This is so obvious, I wonder why no one has
done it before. 'Brakhage', one of my
favourite songs from Stereolab, combined with
footage from the Man himself, filmmaker
extraordinaire: Stan Brakhage
http://www.stereolab.co.uk/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stan_Brakhage Tags :StereolabStanBrakhageDotsandLoopsexperimantalfilms
Since Stereolab and Stan Brakhage go so well
together, I decided to do another one. The
obvious choice was to use 'Space Moth' as the
Soundtrack for 'Mothlight', a Brakhage
classic from 1963.
http://imdb.com/title/tt0057324/
http://www.stereolab.co.uk/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stan_Brakhage Tags :StereolabStanBrakhageSoundDustSpaceMothLightexperimentalfilmpsychodelic
Foreword
I came to write the following poem as the
result of viewing some of the
films of Stan Brakhage. I had my own career
as a producer of
experimental films beginning during my days
at the School of the Art
Institute of Chicago (1962) and in one form
or another continuing until
the present day. The main influence Brakhage
had on my own work was in
his experiments of direct work on film
(painting, scratching and
pasting directly onto the surface of the film
itself.) Frankly I am
happy the influence was not long lasting as
Brakhage probably
contracted bladder cancer as a result of his
exposure to the aniline
dyes he used to color his films.
Stan Brakhage (January 14, 1933 March 9,
2003) was an American
filmmaker. He is regarded as one of the most
important experimental
filmmakers of the 20th century.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stan_Brakhage
Homage to Stan - The Lament Of An Ancient
Experimental Filmmaker While
Watching Stan Brakhages Film, Dog Star Man
I walk past the junkyard wherein
My old projectors lie -
Not one filament still intact.
Is it true that nothing is ever lost -
That a beam of light once released
Will quicksilver out
To the farthest reaches of the universe?
And what of all those scratches on film?
The crude five-frame cuts of
The snow-littered woods in February
The stock footage of sunspots
And hacked arms of Vietnamese children
My girlfriends pussy
And my own pubis
Shot as if from a lunar lander.
All these images have evaporated like
Time-lapse clouds across the sky
Long since assigned to dumpster
And to flame.
My frames are as lost
As the projectors
That once passed the light
Through my obscure schemes
Where the only thought was to shroud
With even more incoherent language
The interpretation of dreams.
We struggled to be scorned by the squares
As if a universal language was some sort of
curse.
Now that our images have been transmogrified
By the priests of MTV, and Levi Strauss
How will we ever be understood
Even by ourselves?
Bob Boldt Tags :Experimentalfilm