Sculpting In Time
They’re not mass man films. They’re looked at as everything from boring to pretentious, to preachy, to simplistic, to an excuse to put something on the screen, a video, something that would be better seen in an art gallery, where you could just look at it for while and move on to the next exhibit.1 So, it’s not for everybody. The form is not logical. It’s not linear. It’s certainly not about entertainment, nor information. It’s not experimental. That’s for science. It’s experiential.
What it is, is a pictoral composition that can be looked at as simplistic if one doesn’t enter into it. For others, it can be something that can bring them to another place. It’s meant not to affect your mind, but your solar plexus.2 It’s to affect you, to inflict you, to cause an impression, to give a watermark. It’s not based in literature. It’s based in text. It’s based in texture, excuse me. An example would be sculpture. Tarkovsky has this great book, Sculpting in Time, how film is a matrix of time. You can look at it as a sculptor with the stone that he or she is going to put a hammer and a chisel to, unless they know that stone. That stone tells them how to cut it.
When you’re doing a pictoral composition, all the effort goes into how it’s photographed, but then it starts to tell you how to cut it. So, all to engage as it were within each of us, these three beautiful aesthetic triplets of sensation, emotion and perception, and they’re all present in us, perhaps dormant in some, perhaps on steroids in others, but present and can be awakened hopefully in an autodidactic form, where you become the story teller, the character and the plot of the film. Everybody sees a different picture.