I’m an artist, trained in couture, oriental brush painting, sculpture, printmaking and graphic design. I am an artist educator. My current work is all with short film exploring big themes about contemporary life and the throwaway of the everyday. I try to experiment with the dialogue between things.
Today I read this paragraph in a book, the first part of which seems to illustrate the kind of chaos that is often a part of my film making experience – and the latter half what I aspire to:
‘His style is terse and angular, rough and digressive. He throws out a word, opens a secret door, kicks a stone he’s picked up along the way. Spontaneously, and somehow trusting all to hazard. And then, when the hour is up, and you look despairingly at the field of thought that has been devastated, suddenly – I couldn’t tell you how – matters begin to resolve themselves. The disconnected ideas strewn about over three-quarters of an hour return home in the final quarter, clear, quiet necessary, utterly compelling, and completing a cycle of reasoning as though it were a symphonic arrangement.’
from For Two Thousand Years by Mihail Sebastian, 1934, first english translation 2016