starting with the last one, there are two from the same era.
one - one man’s hand repeatedly attempts to catch a card size sheet of lead. success is marked on the man’s stained hand and silence.
two - two familiar faces fixed in movement and with rapt attention. they know their purpose, their place in history, even though they are formally locked in this exact moment. they are about faith, love and trust with no heroic hollywood gesture.
then there is one artist and one composer deep in thought, intertwined. a shut-in perhaps, daydreaming of dexterity and the relationship to numbers, the hands, the voice, the bathrobe, the chair. the house standing by some great lake in perpetual winter. fast getting faster because that is the interpretation and the specific conveyance.
she discusses a current allure for trends and those who can see them. meanwhile he is trying to understand diagonals, verticals and horizontals. forgetting about tomorrow.
then she reveals more layers of her aesthetic with two discoveries of gold from time nearest to his heart. they are instant favorites.
she narrows her eyes and intones, “are you guys on fire yet?”
imagine what we leave behind for dead. we get finished with it. “the money’s all gone,” they say, “you’ve got nothing left, so we are shutting it down and it’s done” all that is left is the shell. all that remains, the discarded wrappers of some genius or some dope. some who never get the chance, some who get out while they can and leave it behind for others to find.
she adds a note on the poetic viewed not as pathetic and thank god for that.
jonas mekas just films his memories. and that is where i will end this post. as it happens it is already gone. did we go there knowing that we would remember it or that we would shoot each other like a memory? do you always remember your time at the coast? or is it the edit or when you see it for the first time?
