Reflections of the Afternoon Baby Moving

In his book A Moving Picture Giving and Taking Book, Brakhage outlines the deep intricacies of the film production and exhibition processes. While I found myself becoming lost in the tangle of his descriptions of sprockets and claws, I couldn't help but appreciate Brakhage's attention to minute detail when explaining each aspect of experimental film-making. The vastness of all the subtleties involved in the production and exhibition of a reel of film is comparable to an action as simple as standing up, and walking around the room: we are never, and probably will never be, fully aware of how many tiny muscles must contract and in how precise of an order than when we attempt to write out a comprehensive instruction manual on how to perform such a basic task. Moving picture projectors call to mind the voluntary organ systems of the human body, while the sensitivity of film stock operates on an exactness similar to the DNA replication process: the levels of intensity of the light to which the fledgling stock is exposed are the thin dividing lines between an individual with normal blood cells, and one with sickle cell anemia. I am both intimidated and humbled by the amount of information presented by Brakhage, it reminds me to not take advantage of the modern film-making technologies so readily available to me. The great ferocity with which one must approach film-making, as well as the extensive level of involvement the film-maker must have with the medium, strengthens the bond between the film-maker and their art. This bond-- the cement between layers of spliced film stock, the meticulous scraping of emulsion-- this knowledge of the interplay of light and shadow is impressed upon the film stock itself until it becomes an extension of the film-maker's body and soul. The multiple processes of decision making outlined by Brakhage-- whether to use Tungsten or Daylight film stock, the particular type of leader to manipulate, shutter speed, exposure, etc.-- are what draw the (experimental) film-maker away from the business of film. As Deren argues in her article Amateur Versus Professional, it is the lack of resources, of a budget, of strict studio regulations, that allow the film-maker artistic freedom to reflect upon an array of concepts without the limitation of a capitalistic cinema. By simply making film for the love of film and not to appease a deadline, the film-maker can immerse themselves into their art entirely. The film-maker is thus liberated from the policies of a profit-driven operation, and left to their own devices, left to create beauty from necessity in order to communicate, on a much more immediate and intimate level, with their audience through both the production and exhibition of their film.