Once it became clear to me that the filmmaking life would not be the path of glory that I had initially imagined it to be, what remained? The work, which is inestimable. And the community, which is arguably even more inestimable.
When I was younger, inspired by biographies of the French Surrealists, I imagined that the filmmaking life would be one of endless comraderie, punctuated by frequent group travel. But in reality, the filmmaking life is a generally lonely one, and the comraderie anything but endless. And the travelling is almost always done alone.
Right now, I am in Ithaca, New York, presenting my film at Cornell Cinema. I am staying in a guest room at the University, which has previously been occupied by many of the luminaries of the independent and experimental film world. Many of these people I have met before, and a few are actually friends. But the main experience is of a virtual community rather than an actual one.
And yet, it somehow warms the heart and makes me feel less lonely to know that others have been here before me and that others will be here after I'm gone. Because if it is connection that we seek (and it is certainly connection that I seek), then this is the heart of our connection: these others who have left their mark on film culture, whose works have inspired me, and whose ghosts inhabit the room in which I am about to spend the night. Some of their names are:
Martin Arnold, Craig Baldwin, James Benning, Sadie Benning, Alan Berliner, Abigail Child, Jem Cohen, Kirby Dick, Su Friedrich, Sam Green, Lewis Klahr, Ross McElwee, Bill Morrison, DA Pennebaker, Jay Rosenblatt, Carolee Schneemann, and Thelma Schoonmaker.
We are all travelling a path devoid of glory. But the path is inhabited by the ghost of a community, and it is in this invisible community in which we all share that the only glory that there is will finally be found.
posted by Caveh Zahedi at
7:58 PM
