RAK

S CRA BC
AG 4

KK
WwW ATTIN
&
{
 Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2023 with funding from
Kahle/Austin Foundation

https://archive.org/details/orakhagescrapboo0000brak
Brakhage Scrapbook
Stan Brakhage
Collected Writings 1964-1980

Edited by Robert A. Haller

Documentext
Copyright © 1982 by Stan Brakhage. Grateful acknowledgement is made to the editors and pub-
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American lishers of the following journals and magazines in which some of
Copyright Conventions. For information, address the pub- the material in this volume previously appeared, occasionally in
lisher, Documentext, P.O. Box 638, New Paltz, NY 12561. slightly different form or under another title: Dartmouth, Jogu-
Preparation and publication of this book have been assisted by lars, Film Comment, The Yale Literary Magazine, Film Culture,
grants from the National Endowment for the Arts, a federal Newsletter of 8mm in Education, Guerrilla, Filmwise, Los Angeles
agency; and the New York State Council on the Arts. Manufac- Free Press, Mile High Underground, Dance Perspectives, NY
tured in the United States of America. First Edition. Film-Makers' Newsletter, Harbinger, lo, Los Angeles Institute of
Contemporary Art (LAICA) Journal, Credences, Cinemanews,
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data Criss-Cross Communications, Cinema Now, Downtown Review.
“Stan and Jane Brakhage (and Hollis Frampton) Talking” first
Brakhage, Stan.
appeared in Artforum, © |972 by Artforum, and is reprinted by
Brakhage scrapbook.
permission of the publisher and Mr. Frampton. A Moving Pic-
Filmography: p. ture Giving and Taking Book was originally published by Frontier
Bibliography: p. Press, copyright © 1971 by Stan Brakhage. The Seen was origi-
Includes index. nally published by Pasteurize Press (Zephyrus Image),
|. Moving-pictures— Philosophy — Collected works. copyright © 1975 by Stan Brakhage. The poem “R” and line
|, Haller, Robert A. Il, Title. excerpts from other poems by Robert Kelly are reprinted by
PN 1995.B715 791.43'01 82-1960 permission of the author. Quotations from “Proprioception”
ISBN 0-914232-46-0 and line excerpts from poems by Charles Olson reprinted by
ISBN 0-91 4232-47-9 (deluxe) permission of the Estate of Charles Olson. Quotations from
ISBN 0-91 4232-45-2 (pbk.) poems by Michael McClure are reprinted by permission of the
author, Line excerpts from “Canto XXV" from The Cantos of
Ezra Pound, copyright 1937 by Ezra Pound, reprinted by per-
mission of New Directions Publishing Corp. Line excerpts
Paperback cover, frontispiece of clothbound edition, and from Hermetic Definition, copyright © 1972 by Norman
photo insert printed by Open Studio Ltd., which also provided Holmes Pearson, reprinted by permission of New Directions
substantial typesetting. Open Studio, in Rhinebeck, NY, is a Publishing Corp. The books paraphrased in “Film:Dance” are
non-profit production facility for writers, artists, and indepen-
Lectures in America, A Geographical History of America, and Four
in America by Gertrude Stein; Studies in Classical American
dent publishers, supported in part by grants from the National
Endowment for the Arts and the New York State Council on Literature by D.H. Lawrence; In the American Grain by William
the Arts. Text printing and paperback binding by Capital City Carlos Williams; Call Me Ishmael by Charles Olson; and Nine
Press, Montpelier, VT. Clothbinding by Riverside Bindery, Chains to the Moon by Buckminster Fuller.
Rochester, NY.
Two hundred copies of Brakhage Scrapbook are bound in
The paperback cover and the frontispiece to the clothbound buckram, numbered, and signed by the author.
editions reproduce all |90 frames of the film Eye Myth.

Photographs and frame enlargements appear courtesy of

Anthology Film Archives and Stan Brakhage. The photograph
opposite the title page is by Robert A. Haller, 1971.
 INTRODUCTION
This book passed through several editorial hands on its way to publication,
but from the first Brakhage Scrapbook was designed to be a collection of
published essays and selected letters by a prolific film-maker who is as
capable as a writer and nearly as influential. P. Adams Sitney, the critic who
edited Brakhage’s first book, Metaphors on Vision (1963), made the first
selection of texts in the mid-sixties until Brakhage concluded that the
material was insufficient. After Frontier Press published A Moving Picture
Giving and Taking Book in 1971, Brakhage urged its publisher, Harvey Brown,
to take up the Scrapbook project. Brown went so far as to set an enlarged
manuscript and to proceed to galley proofs before he was forced by other
circumstances to close his press.
At that time—1972—the collection consisted almost entirely of writ-
ings composed between |964 and 1970. By the late seventies the anthol-
ogy came into my hands; when Documentext agreed to issue it the scope
was expanded to include the writings of the seventies, a section of photo-
graphs, and to make available again the out-of-print Giving and Taking Book.
In the most fundamental ways, however, the nature of this volume has
not changed. It is not an explanation of what Brakhage has sought to
achieve or has accomplished in his films (he does not feel the latter can be
appropriately described in words) but rather a parallel musing (tempting
one to say music) with another instrument about the same themes: the
experience of apprehending, the adventure of seeing, the “wondering”
vision.
A much-discussed and controversial film-maker since the mid-fifties,
Brakhage has been involved and sometimes identified with many of the
most interesting aesthetic developments of avant garde cinema, quite a
few of which are discussed, and disputed, in this book: the growth of 8mm
film-making and the place of “amateur” film-making; the work of such
contemporaries as Bruce Baillie and such predecessors as Willard Maas and
Marie Menken; the role of music in cinema; the politics of film-makers’
associations. Particular formative situations of various of his films, includ-
ing The Text of Light and “The Pittsburgh Trilogy,” are described. The
interview with Hollis Frampton and Jane Brakhage is perhaps the most
memorable Stan Brakhage has ever given.
The letters often contain brief articulations of his creative process. To
Manis Pinkwater he writes that “an artist MUST act on dream instruction.”
To Ed Dorn he says “the urge to write threads thought impulses to the
vi
ees BRAKHAGE
eee

fingers along a line of melody....” Succinctly, and then less so, he has
described the uncalculated, unpremeditated, open-ended character of
both filming and writing. The Dorn letter illustrates this by eccentric use of
parentheses—again and again opening parenthetical statements and
asides, never closing them, piling tangent upon digression, and then ending
with the word, “end-parenchesis.” In addition to these formal methods,
Brakhage’s writing glows in the collisions and couplings and rhymings of his
words. The method is a way ofdealing with experienc e just a manner
— not
of speaking. Capitalization, puns and word play are used fully (his letter to
Yves Kovacs begins with an apology for a double pun) in the same way that
grain and visible splices appear in his films.
For Brakhage, cinema is a process, a continuous personal encounter, a
determination to escape the habitual shuttered sight that limits and con-
ventionalizes the sensations that travel from the eye to the mind. One of
his pivotal films bears the title The Wonder Ring. Given his professed love
for word play it may not be inappropriate to take that image as a kind of
epithet for Brakhage himself—a wondering eye. Just as he embraces and
reduces his filmic images, he presses against the structures of language in
these writings. Writing— especially poetry —was Brakhage’s earliest aspi-
ration. Had he, by his own standards, succeeded as a poet, he might never
have turned to cinema. Many of his earliest and continuing friends have
been poets, and various letters to Robert Kelly, Ed Dorn, Michael McClure
and Guy Davenport are in this collection. Gertrude Stein, Ezra Pound, and
Charles Olson are enduring influences on his work in film and his apprecia-
tion of poetry. He is often associated with film-makers who are also poets
or writers: James Broughton, Sidney Peterson, Gregory Markopoulos,
Maya Deren, Jonas Mekas, Willard Maas. While his films can hardly be
described as literary, he has “worked from” certain texts in making films,
such as Jean-Paul Sartre’s Nausea in the making of Black Vision (1965) and
the poetry of Osip Mandelstam in making Short Films 1975. The brief narra-
tive text to The Stars are Beautiful, published here for the first time, high-
lights one of the tensions between Brakhage’s perceptions of language
versus image —it is, in effect, a species of ethnopoetics, of creation mythol-
ogy, and it reminds us that by far the greater number of his films are silent.
For Brakhage, the physical act of writing is also filmic: since 1955 the
titles of his films have been scratched out across a hundred or so frames,
words jaggedly growing before our eyes. But only in these titles does he
make an equation between word and image, which in the rest of his work
are essential but different mechanisms of insight.
SCRAPBOOK Vii

To watch a Brakhage film is to be forced to watch attentively: images

flash onto the screen and disappear in the duration of a few frames. His
camera will dart across a shallow focus space so swiftly that identification
of the background can be utterly elusive. Context, situation, familiariza-
tion: all these are undermined by the fragmenting close-up, the briefest of
cinematic glances, the differentiation of colors when rigorously presented
in spatial isolation. Brakhage epitomizes this in Metaphors on Vision: “Imag-
ine an eye unruled by man-made laws of perspective, an eye unprejudiced
by compositional logic, an eye which does not respond to the name of
everything but which must know each object encountered in life through
an adventure of perception....”
Brakhage’s cinema is unusual for his extraordinary rendering of vision
and for his very ordinary subject matter: his wife, their children, their
mountaintop home, himself. By shifting his focus in the late-fifties to
domestic landscape, he stepped away from a tradition of alienation and
anguish which marked the psychodramatic forms of his earliest films. There
is no single year or film which signals absolutely this change, and | am not
suggesting that there is no anxiety or pain in subsequent films, but a certain
obsession faded which allowed Brakhage to grow as an artist beginning
with The Wonder Ring in 1955. During these years Brakhage was influenced
particularly by his contacts with Joseph Cornell, Marie Menken, and Jane
Collom. All three broke through different kinds of isolation he faced.
Cornell commissioned The Wonder Ring, which in a sense is about personal
vision accepting and moulding but not rejecting the world. Menken’s
cinema celebrated the minutia of common experience, the implications of
detail—a secret everyday world. Collom married him; at the time they
met, she remembers,
he was fresh out of the hospital... from a bout with double pneumonia mixed
with bronchitas and asthma. A year before, he’d been dying of acute appen-
dicitis. He was frightfully sickly. His eyelids were puffy, making his eyes
burning slits. His skin was a sort of a pale chartreuse...
When we were married three days after Christmas in ’57, | was 21, Stan
was 24. He was walking on a cane at the time because of arthritis in his left
knee. He also had it in his right hand, making it more and more difficult to edit.
He was working on Anticipation of the Night when | met him. He said
later that he’d never have had the nerve to marry ifhe wasn’t positive he was
going to die in a few weeks or so.

Brakhage has written about his personal and often difficult transforma-
tions, and of the importance of his marriage and formation of a family to his
identity. At the age of two weeks he had been adopted in Kansas City, the
son of parents never officially identified. (In 1976 he learned that his
mother’s name was Mirabell Sanders, and his given name, at birth, was
Robert.) Not knowing their identity, and so not his own, was a consciously
disturbing factor. He was told he was an orphan early on, and as a child he
was haunted by the question of his origin, which was aggravated by the
unstable family that adopted him. A prodigy in high school, he joined the
Gadflys, a small circle of fledgling artists and writers united against the
athletics-centered social system of his fellow students. Earlier, he says, he
led a gang of small-time thieves. Later he became associated with the
Experimental Cinema Group in Boulder, Gryphon Films, the Film-Makers
Cooperative, the New American Cinema group, Anthology Film Archives.
It would seem that in all of these associations Brakhage has been motivated
by ambivalent impulses: to make contact with others like himself, and to
sever that contact whenever it seemed to undermine his sense of integ-
rity. For Brakhage would never become just a member: he belonged to the
group, and it too, in a way, would belong to him. The forces he accepted as
self-transforming in his life have reinforced the identity or persona estab-
lished in the films, culminating in what Sitney has called the “lyrical film.”
The lyrical film postulates the film-maker behind the camera as the first-
person protagonist of the film. The images of the film are what he sees, filmed
in such a way that we never forget his presence and we know how he is reacting
to his vision.

In his writings Brakhage does not so much tell what he had learned —
which he shares again and again in the active process of his films—but how
he has come to it. A letter he wrote to Harvey Brown in 1970 sums up the
intention of this collection:
The films exist for themselves and can, like anything else on earth, be either a
pleasure or a bother or neither: the writings exist as the best defense I’ve been
able to truthfully fashion against all that which, in the name of Truth, would
destroy those works and myself as source thereof. | have truthfully told what |
have learned from the works and my working of them: but there is no end to
that telling because it is not an art: thus each statement of mine in itself is a lie.
I’ve lied each time I’ve capitalized Art: and I’ve done so to joust with the greater
lie that Historical Art can be meaningfully more than Antique when considered
in historical context. An art is alive to us now as we are alive, or it is not as we
are not: it is always alive, and simply that, to any ‘I’ that attends it.

Robert A. Haller New York, 1981

SCRAPBOOK

CONTENTS
Make Place for the Artist
The Robert Letter
Quest Shun-Aire
To Yves Kovacs
To Ed Dorn
To Manis Pinkwater
To James Broughton
Before Scenes From Under Childhood
To Andrew Meyers
To Abbott Meader
To Jonas Mekas
To Jerome Hill
To Ned O’Gorman
To Dolores Daniels
To Michael McClure
S.A. #1
8MM Seeing Vision
Film and Music
A Moving Picture Giving and Taking Book
Eight Letters to Guy Davenport
On Marie Menken
Master Willard
Hypnagogically Seeing America
Lecture Intended
On 23rd Psalm Branch
Eight Questions
With Love
To a Canadian Film-Maker
Film:Dance
To Jonas Mekas
To Robert Kelly
Photograph Section
To Ed Dorn
The Stars Are Beautiful
Angels
To Sidney Peterson
To Bruce Baillie
To P. Adams Sitney
To Donald Sutherland
In Defense of Amateur
Stan and Jane Brakhage (and Hollis Frampton) Talking
Interview with Richard Grossinger
x BRAKHAGE

Manifest 201
The Seen 203
To LAICA Journal Pad
Poetry and Film. 218
To Henry Hills 23
An Open Letter Pein)
Appendix
Selected Catalogue Descriptions of the Films 242
Filmography 235
Selected Bibliography ~259
Index 262
SCRAPBOOK eee
ee ee

MAKE PLACE FOR THE ARTIST

This is to introduce myself. I am young and I believe in magic. I am
learning how to cast spells. My profession is transforming. I am what is
known as “an artist.” Three years ago I made a discovery which caused
me dis-ease at the time: neither the society in which I had grown up
nor my society of that moment, my college, knew what to do with me.
They were wary of me.
I, suddenly without inheritance, began a three year adventure to seek
the fortune of myself. This information is for professors wondering over
an age of introspective art. Some say that no one has ever known what
to do with the artist until after he is dead. Then his body is disposed of
and his life works are buried in museums and libraries and, sometimes,
in men’s minds.
As over half of the culture professors of this and every other college
campus earn their living from picking the bones of the dead, it is hoped
they will be interested in the flesh of their future. This is a living artist
speaking. It is a re-quest which brings me back to Dartmouth at this
time. This is a state meant.
I am presenting it in writing for someone else’s future. Someone may
someday realize that the living artist has the eyes of the age he lives in.
They may understand that he makes his magic for the moment. Who
knows? Here’s what to do:
Make place for the artist. Do it now. For you, as well as him, tomor-
row is too late. First must come understanding, not of the work but of
the worker. Give him the right conditions. Here are the conditions.
This breed requires freedom. Cages kill him. Restrictions constrict.
This animal is forever at war with his own limitations by nature. The
rules others try to impose usually only baffle and, finally, either destroy
or else disinherit him.
The artist must be given more than enough rope. He often hangs,
himself for the experience, however this creature has a tough neck, give
him time! He is perhaps more aware of time than any other type of
individual. He is an explorer of his own dualities. He embarks on as
many adventures as there are in a day. These are the components of
his witch brew.
It takes time, also, to stir up a magic potion. Information for oppor-
tunists—the best way to get something from an artist is to leave him
alone. Contradiction is part of the honesty he exercises. It is impossible
for any man to express without contradicting himself every other state-

Dartmouth, March 1955

3 BRAKHAGE

ment and be anything but a liar, unless he is playing a part. The artist
plays his part best apart.
It is because this college has a tradition of individuality that I speak
so frankly. I have, during the last three years, uncovered many radical
art schools with much display of individuality but no foundation for
keeping it alive. Their fires are explosive but they frizzle quickly. I
believe that Dartmouth has coals unturned.
Perhaps I’m no match for it. I am a match that would like to ignite
without being consumed. My words have turned up a circle, and I’m
back to ideas I had when I first arrived in Hanover three and a half
years ago.
It was a liberal education I wanted. I was, and am, alive with more
curiosity than it would be possible for any man to satisfy in a lifetime.
A college was expected to save me time in my investigations, but it was
not dreamed of that time would be saved by pre-digesting those inves-
tigations.
I was barraged with a tangle of facts and given no time to unite them.
The explorer will never be satisfied by the motion pictures of the expe-
dition. I had assumed that a liberal education would be taught liberally
to everyone according to his individual inclination.
I had exepected there would be time for keeping the fires burning
under the magic potion. Instead there was only an endless series of
pot-boilers to be warmed over. ‘The smoke dreams of the artist are
as necessary to his well being as the air he breathes.
Make place for the artist, Dartmouth, for he is the most demanding
but at the same time the most generous of all the individuals your tra-
dition might speak for. He is the fire for a living theater under the
hands of your great drama professors. He is the dream of your inspiring
professors of literature.
He can make use of their inspiration. He can give you a literary
quarterly worth keeping. He is the unheard sound of your musical
department. He can give your instruments new notes to play. He is
what your artists in residence are residing for. He can make your
screens alive with your own cinema images. He must never be used as
material. Those who try to hold fire either burn their hands or put
the fire out.
This is a hair of the dog, given with love and expectation.
Soo lg
THE ROBERT LETTER (TO ROBERT LEE TIPPS)
Near end July, 1964
Dear Bob,
I hasten to answer your letter, your beautiful letter, “The most clear letter,” Jane
Says, “we've ever received from Bob”; BUT I am also somewhat saddened that I
haven’t any capital ““A’”’-Answers to some of your worries, I have no place in mind
where human flowers are permitted to bloom openly . . . God, all my Roberts, my
dear Roberts: Bob Benson, for instance, permitting himself to be destroyed in the
no-man’s land somewhere between the New York Stage and Taggart’s Basement,
that is: The San Francisco Workshop which has degenerated into a sort of Pee-Wee
Golf Course, a narrow way directed the same as Broadway, same ultimate dis-stinct—
to be shunned by all but those who seek destruction the sloooooo000w, rather than
speedy B’, way; but how was I ever to say to Benson that what drama needs more
than anything else is an actor who disciplines himself privately as purely as creative
painter, say, thoughtless of attention, shunning even all but whatever audience
angels bring his way at moment when it is given to him to create, accepting whatever
circumstances so long as they are free of even the anarchic commissioning in
Taggart’s Basement?—how was I to say this to him who cannot stack up his creative
moments in a closet or send them out from himself intact for a usage he’s free-of
once performance is completed? . . . except to demonstrate as much of that process
as was possible in the making of “Blue Moses”? ... AND SUDDENLY I DO SEE
that THAT WAS enough: I suddenly realize in writing this to you that those same
recording means, film and tape, are as available to a performing artist as they are
to so-called creative artist—‘“‘so-called” because all superficial distinctions between
those terms “performing” and “creative” melt, indeed “resolve themselves into a
dew,” i.e., make perfect natural form for whoever has the strength to take means
at his hand as medium in hand—Benson could carry around a tape recorder, a
camera, as easily as I, and carry this equipment, as he does all his training, as
preparation for coming moments of inspiration and in homage to what was given
him, his sensibilities, his gift for acting; and he could also carry all this equipage,
as I must, with due homage and humility with respect to forces beyond his control,
striving always for the perfection of White Magician as defined by Graves in the
sense of He-Who prepares himself all his life so that he-whom the angels intend to
move the mountain may do so without debt, Black Magic, when the moment for
moving the mountain comes to pass, as it may not within any particular man’s
lifetime—but that latter part is an over-emphasized pessimism of Graves, perhaps
himself too concerned with mountains, because, as it has at least been my experience,
the angels, angels being my name for forces moving thru me beyond my knowledge,
my sensing of multiplicity of forces rather than sensing what may be a most singular
force, these angels do seem to find plenty of work for all so disciplined, all White
Magicians, that is: I know no idle good men—tho’ plenty distracted by work-work,
a kind of double positive making negative in this field as any other regarding magic
of grammar . . . and have heard of some who seem to me to have misunderstood
various Eastern teachings, etcetera...

Jogulars 1(2), Winter 1964

4
Well, WOW, what a simple thing for me to have overlooked all these years; and
I can no longer excuse, that is pity, the so-called performing artist in this, God
knows, that is as is singularly known, difficult time for all of us; and I realize that
pity was with regard to myself as performing artist as I once was singer, actor,
rhetorician, etceterician, did even once want, as still somewhere in the pity of me
want, people to look over my shoulder as I was editing, do still pull on Jane for
that double distraction, non-traction in the working process, still want to teach,
lec-tour, even tho’ I know all admiration and/or hatred for me distracts from the
images on the screen as surely as if I took a pointer during any film showing and
created shadow lines and the form of my body to partially block the light, the creative
intention—that’s IT, do then at best refer to intent in a shun of the creative realiza-
tion, do tattoo mySELF all over, in such action, with dislocated pieces of my own—
ah, notice how “own” slips in—images, do indeed then make them my own at the
expense of any freedom, vulgarly, rub them off on myself, a showing off for sure,
an exhibitionism not even courageous to go naked, a flaunt of what can only be
moving designs patterned for dress when thus, by lecture, singled out of creation
and superimposed upon myself as teach-preach-err reaching for an each which would
make a kind of stifled scream of me, to draw attention to the anti-poetic “I,” or to
those who hate me then an Ass, a capital “A,” and to the neutral an “Exhibit A”
at best. And I remember so clearly now Robert Duncan’s warning:

If I’ve tried to get one idea across in the art it is that

the poet must have no deep and complex feelings, no ‘I’
at all, that does not belong to, arise in the orders of, the
poem itself.

and the passages where those concerns take form in his Day Book:

Liberty too is a demand of the anti-poetic. The poet

cannot take liberties in the poem. For just there, where
the arbitrary, self-expressive or self-saving, where the
self-conscious voice comes, the iSiduys, idiot howl or moan
or the urbane sophistication breaks or takes over from
the communal voice. In the communal consciousness,
the idiot isa member. But the difficulty of self-expression
or of accomplished performance (self-possession) in verse
is that this false “I” usurps the place of the ‘I’ that we
all are.

A long time ago, after you had performed the piano background music to James
Broughton’s reading, you confided to me that you and he could share a “‘performer’s
sense” which, as you said, I lacked. The ambition in me which drove me to San
Francisco in search of A Round Table, and that which drove me of late to New York
in search of even a square one, all prompted by fat of my youth which had kept
me from getting under the brother-hood, which I never till lately thought of as my
being too BIG (God, how singularly poet Robert Kelly has redeemed much of my
childhood—as you too, my musical Robert, when the SIZE of you took shape in
SCRARROOK
SS NEM
= OEE
C'S
your play as the beauty of your playing), this statement of yours did make me feel
excluded from a kind of Three Musketeership at the time, did prove troublesome,
as any lack, to “A small boy’s notion of doing good,” as another Robert, Creeley,
puts it in a poem. I NOW, as of the spelling of this lettering, acknowledging faults
as cracks of mis-spells, must run through my ignorance in these several pages, an
acknowledgement to save me from some statute of myself, DO, from break-through
of feeling that I wish it would have been so, RECOGNIZE A WOULD IT WERE
TRUE, a becoming present, AND WILL IT TO BE TRUE that I lack sense of
performance, HEREBY SWEAR AN OATH in homage to the forces beyond my
knowledge, my angels, THAT I WILL TALK NO MORE ABOUT MY FILMS,
NOR WRITE OF THEM EITHER, TILL IT IS GIVEN TO ME, a sense of need
shaped to sign, THAT I MAY SPEAK, OR WRITE, WHITE WORDS ONLY
IN WHITE RELATION, or at least as of the same impulse felt in the act of creating.

As you have met, known or know something of all the other Roberts of this letter,
but Robert Kelly, I will send you a poem just received from him, from his alphabet
book named AT THE FOOT OF THE LETTER; and as you may wonder what
I mean by “a sense of need shaped to sign” I will send you “R” which may be taken
as a sign if there be need enough in you to read carefully:

Robert, Robertus sum. Bright fame. Son or

daughter of all that made me. Don’t you know.
Yes I know. Robert. The name taught me
to steal, & expect to be punished. Anybody
can steal but only robebers are punished.
I am the Queen’s poet & know no names.
The Kings poet. Yes. Once I have made
my music I will not write J again.
Robertus sum.
Not robber. It is easy to be im-
mortal but where is the song? Song/after
death, who needs it? No more questions.
The song. Above all gardens & in dirt.
Whence grows.
In one rush:
matter & song, triumphant, thru the tree’s
body. Robert’s
concerns, cocks, houses, oak for upright,
the house stands strong.
But what what given is a flower or a country,
& he could not live on it. Love
loving anything it can. Maple for shade. O
tall house air lives in, to stand up therein.
Is song. Oneself, River, or shore of a lake,
wind, who, from the south, the drab water
6 BRAKHAGE

Whatever is sung
is for the republic
& that is where
houses live & how.
The water, the words
are never our own,
are not ours
but to make over

& rob the princess from hell. Flecked black

& white with music, he drives to his baptism
in the same cart. No one can see him.
Return
at length
to your land
& raise
the living
from the dead.

Robert is strong enough to bear all burdens

Robert will live forever
Robert can make cities from flowers & love from a house
Robert flows his waters all over you
The apples he steals are his own.

Very personally I could wish nothing more than that you would find that “your
land” was near to us in every respect. You do write out of your nostalgia for things
that are no more: Boulder is no more a place where even beauty of performance
flows, no one of interest to me performs there. I no longer perform there either:
most of your friends are scattered, all those names, Bill and Mary travelers, it may
have been The Meader’s film sign you saw in Maine, as that is where they are,
etcetera, and even Jane and I can no longer be considered of-Boulder: As for
Denver, it fares no better, except that perhaps it might in Jane’s ironic sense that
“Now that Taggart has at last left Denver art may flourish there just to spite him”:
and we have very much changed, even the children you speak of playing with (our
girls who came to call all welcome visitors “Bobs” as if it were natural English usage)
are older and more various in their ways; but we have none of us changed with
respect to what we love, “Bobs” and the particular Bob you are.
 SCRAPBOOK

QUEST: SHUN-AIRE
When I first received your ties in any departure from sense
Quest: shun-aire: I tossed it of light as source of the medium,
out because, because-because—ah move of fire prime movemeant,
well, I thought it unappropriate etc., but growing away from limi-
to dwell on such matters wherein tations thereby, such as Christian
means were what was needed— artist’s limit of only pain’s: tak-
and then did balk at Cat. II: ing-care wherefrom we can now
“GIVE A SKETCH OF YOUR grow into consciousness of joy:
PROFESSIONAL WORK IN taking-care and/or move among
FILM”: to which I could only, all emotions to a care full taking
with specific regard, have replied shape of all, a form ALL without
with a list of some of those jobs as much RE-guard as in BE-fér,
I’ve taken upon myself, the bur- etc.
dens of T.V. commercials, educa- BUT, you see why I balked at
tional films, etc., wherewith I’ve a-gory II: for the real distinction
earned enough to feed my family between Professional & Amateur
and continue my non-professional does bogg down in description
work wherein I find myself ama- wherefrom any lover would flee
teur, lover, enough to permit the unless, and my only hope in spell
passage into being of the medium of above, he used of-script FOR
of film into form which, at most, shun, took intricate tools of above
can only be said to have been per- to spring therefrom; but lovers
mitted, rather than created, by shun “use” first, usually, and thus
my being, and perfect in its being find most individual way to escape
only to the extent I have been any circling, only their robber
care full, i.e.: working out of the nature burdening them with a
full necessity, and necessity only, lute, an instru-ment, a boot, too
of my being: and of the clar- big for the foot if poet, or a
ity Zukofsky spells, in “Bottom camera if film maker and/or
On Shakespeare”: “when reason rolls rollls, and so a being FOR-
judges with eyes, love and mind the: materials replacing matter;
are one.”: and am, thereby care- money, means; etc., engendering
ful to know I “cannot take liber- a lack of fay-the, a lack of daisyc-
ties with the poem,” as Robert all: sense of how the flowers
Duncan puts it, or with the film flower: an Et-Set-Era of “woe,
as I transcribe it across script to woe, etcetera” and/or a
the light of the visual medium “hangup” which does bring us
wherein I find the taking of liber- naturally to considerations of the

Film Comment 2(3), Summer 1964

8
OO BRAKHAGE
————

need for “VARIOUS FOUNDA- all this sub-blossoming, mad-

TION GRANTS TO THE ARTS” dream, world aborted in phone
(my italics). booth leaving me utterly hollowed
in feeling and stumbling down the
One 20-degree-below-zero day streets of Custer. As it happened,
in a phone booth on the streets as it was Saturday, there was a
of Custer, South Dakota, I re- kiddies afternoon movie begin-
turned a long-distance call from ning in the one local theatre
Film-Maker’s Cooperative and there; and I gravitated naturally
was informed that I had won no into that atmosphere, that which
awards at the Brussels’ 1964 Ex- has been to me most church of
hibition. As I had entered none my time, most unchanging cere-
of my films there (they had all mony of my childhood, most rite
been entered for me by friends) to me. I had no sooner taken my
and as I had several days before seat than the lights dimmed and
sent a telegram giving permission the semi-darkness enclosed me in
to withdraw them (in reply to re- this children’s world wherein all
quest from Jonas Mekas making social barriers, age or otherwise,
protest over exclusion of FLAM- vanish at the first illumination of
ING CREATURES, which I had the screen. The service began
not even seen at that time) with a Woody-Woodpecker Car-
and as I thought no expectations toon; and I will describe it to you
of awards from Brussels existed briefly:
within me (particularly since my An artist, complete with beret
experience at Brussels in 1958), and mustache, palette and brush,
I was much surprised to find my- is seen painting. It is soon re-
self doubling-over with nausea in vealed that he is painting a semi-
that phone booth and barely able nude on a necktie. Then we see
to catch enough breath to finish the outside of his house: an ap-
the conversation. My needs were propriate shack. Beside this is
great at the time, food low, Custer a tree: the home of our Woody
job becoming daily more impos- hero. A magazine is thrown upon
sible for me, DOG STAR MAN the porch by postman; and Wood-
expenses impossible, etc.; and pecker runs down his tree to read
some-such desire for Brussels Sal- the news, which does turn out to
vation had assumed subconscious be Art News advertising a paint-
proportions of comparable great- ing competition, award of $5,000
ness to balance needfulness I First Prize to be given to the best
wasn’t permitting myself to con- painting of a desert flower. The
sciously think-of-on-about; and artist emerges from his wooden
SCRAPBOOK

house; and a fight begins over The Artist in his unwatched be-
the magazine, over who is to hind (reminding of Olson’s state-
paint the best flower, over trans- ment on the creative process:
portation means to get to it, etc. “You follow it. With a dog at
Finally, both Woody and the your heels, a crocodile about to
artist, both now in berets, with eat you at the end, and you with
palettes, brushes, etc., converge your pack on your back trying to
across a vast expanse of desert catch a butterfly.”): then, as The
upon a single blooming desert Artist goes on trying to paint the,
flower. From here on, for by now, dishevelled flower, Woody
awhile, the Hollywood animators draws ties on the sand under and,
take their cues from McLaren’s of course, two neat rails on either
NEIGHBORS, as the flower is side of him; and a train (loco-
fought over, ground under, etc.; motive) obligingly rushes over the
but then Woodpecker remembers tracks leaving The Artist all bat-
who he is, returns in stride and tered and entangled in ties and
feathered style to triumph in the twisted rails with a desert flower
following manners: first, he paints drooping over his nose: then a
a mirage of water and oasis scene frame is formed around this, and
upon a rock, jumps into and it is seen to be exhibited, as a
swims about in his painting (re- painting, in an art gallery; and
minding me of the ancient legend the announcement is being made
of the Chinese master who adds that Woody Woodpecker is to
one stroke a day to his master- receive the first prize for his
piece and finally bids the impa- “abstract” painting of a desert
tient emperor goodbye and walks flower, after which, and after The
off into it); but, of course, of a Artist in the painting blinks twice
course so natural as to be antici- (WOW what a world of thoughts
pated by the laughing children about “Abstract” and “Realism”
around me, when The Artist (who fluttered thru my laughing mind)
should have been capped through- the fat, cigar-chewing, master of
out this description to signify his ceremonies hands our feathered
beret, etc.) tries to follow suit he friend a painting of a money bag
smashes against solid rock and with $5,000 lettered upon it, at
the oasis vanishes: then Woody which in answer, and of expectan-
draws a bulldog, the inevitable cy’s course, Woody Woodpecker
Tom-&-Jerry-type bull (but tak- smashes the painting over patron’s
ing on significance of “Beware head and laughs his most individ-
The Dog” which latin poet once ual laugh in midst of laughter all
posted on his house), which bites around.
10 BRAKHAGE

The above came to me, in car- which is not to imply that I re-
toon form, as religious experience ceived it painlessly but that I was
under child-hood. It, naturally, full of care rather than conscious-
suffers in translation; but I hope ness care-lessness. These areas of
hereby to give some sense of the self-discipline are the grants foun-
restorative values of the experi- dations have given me. They have
ence to me.. Some I’ve told the given me also lessons in jealousy
story to have insisted I made the and the eventual joy that contem-
whole thing up, have insisted I poraries of mine, among them
took material of other cartoon many close friends, have so disci-
and created, in mind’s eye, a plined themselves as to receive
miracle cartoon of no Hollywood the means in the form of large
origin—they thereby credit a non- sums of money which, apparently,
god with a sense of timing, forget- do not abstract them: batter them
ting that miracles are ever present into blinking monuments in gal-
and that humans create The Time, leries. I rather fear, to judge from
can therefore create the most con- my sick reaction in Custer, that
tinual clock of miracles they want a money award at that time might
if they but see to it... I, as is have been the worst possible Fate-
my usual, had necessity to help all. Anyway, it seems to be my
me SEE to IT: any appropriately fate to receive the means in small
passing miracle which could take amounts from many individuals
shape therefrom my need, could and of an irregular, but always
have taken shape clear thru to miraculous, timing so that eco-
form of itself had I been PRES- nomics does come to me in daily
ENT, gift of myself, enough in relationship physically specified
the moment to go to work, con- by stomach, abstracted only as
temporary source, rather than regards my children’s stomachs,
source in childhood . . . but I had etc., and with respect to THAT
not been aware enough of “croco- particular roll of out-dated film
dile” at “end,” aware enough of given by that particular person,
my tail, sub-conscious, in disci- etc., which takes the form of mak-
pline of myself those Custer days, ing a living in the creative sense
to make the most of the bite of of permitting it to pass through
experience then. me into a being of its own, having
it only in the sense of gift, an
When the rejection from the exchange possible in the sense of
Ford Foundation arrived, I was myself as present, ete. For in-
not much surprised by either it stance: when we had our first
or myself: my own reactions: child I worried as to whether or
SCRAPBOOK II

not the salary I then had from a into being, feeding back on itself
commercial film company was only in the sense of, or senseless, :
enough to meet family needs—I “What’s the matter?”: senseless
now have no job, am indeed in- unless asked after, after its com-
creasingly incapable of holding ing into being; but miracle can
one at all; and we have five chil- move through all of it: the need
dren. Obviously a miracle has of miracle, if taken as gift of “‘in-
shaped itself in relation to our spiration,” as they used to say; the
family needs; and I must, of 5- means, if miracle, always avail-
times greater necessity than then, able in some form if matter is per-
believe in the form of that mira- mitted to take shape of itself; and,
cle. Also, when I submitted my if so, matter, of course, is a mira-
request to the Ford Foundation, cle, the specific miracle of art if
I wrote what I then thought the in coming into being it passed
truth of the matter, that I couldn’t through the being of an artist,
possibly complete my 414 hour and fine as such as he was sharp,
epic film DOG STAR MAN with- and new as such as he was creative
out a foundation grant—I am now in the sense of his permitting its
nearly finished with it, about 2 taking shape within his individual
weeks editing to go on Part $ (in- being, and perfect as such in the
teresting Freudslip for Part 4, extent he permitted it to come
which I interpret hopefully as through him into its individual
indicating I am about finished being, and traditional as such to
money-worry-work, that that sign the extent of his knowledge of art
is taking shape for new considera- tradition, and so forth . . . Ah,
tions, deeper thought, etc., as in well, Olson was right: there’s no
this statement your questionaire end to a parathesis . . .
has prompted from me in need,
as I now am and am now realizing, Your questionaire has been of
writing this, that the means and help to me, especially in coming
the matter have relationship as to new terms under Dollar Part;
have I, as means, and the matter, and I hope in this exchange (Ah,
as film, coming into being, that there’s a lovely money word:
“the need” is given, as “the work” change) my replying of old con-
is in terms of “necessity” for me cerns will be of some help to
but taking shape through instru- others in like circumstances, in
ment of my total being, need only kind, a’ kin and will be of amuse-
prompting unless feeding back on ment to those who have otherwise
itself, whereas “the matter” is, as come to terms with grants, foun-
the creation, the film, say, coming dations; means, matters.
 12
fF
ec BRAKHA
Nee GE

TO YVES KOVACS
Near mid-Sept. 1964
Dear Yves KOVACS,

I must admit I’m finding it difficult to either fulfill your request

or reject it. You see, I simply do NOT write “On Subject,” as it’s
termed, nor work: film-or-write-wise “Under Commission” ;but then
your letters are either turning my mind to Surrealistic considerations
and/or are arriving at the opportune time when these considerations
are arising within me again in a form where they might loosely be
clustered under the term “Surrealism.” I have, as you know, been
corresponding with poet Kelly about what we term “The Dream
Work.” But then, I feel especially hampered in my writing to/for
you/your magazine in that whatever is to be of use to you must be
translated into French which restricts my sense of pun—as, for
instance, my thoughts turn to the phrase: “Sir Real & The Drag”
... ah, well, if you’ll forgive me that one & two pun, I'll try to be
gracious enough to give you a couple paragraphs of straight thoughts
in the subject specified without becoming too school-boyish about it,
V1Z:
Max Ernst, on the subject WHAT IS SURREALISM (from
Ausstellungskatalog Kunsthaus Zurich, 1934) says: “ “The accidental
encounter of a sewing machine and an umbrella on a dissecting table’
(Lautreamont) is today a universally known, almost classic example
for the phenomenon discovered by the Surrealists that the juxtaposi-
tion of two (or more) apparently alien elements on an alien plane
promotes the most potent poetic combustion.” With this I would
juxtapose some sense of William Carlos Williams’ “No ideas but in
things” (from “A Sort of a Song’’); and I might even underline the
“in” therein. Then I would direct you to the accidental appearance
of whatever page you're reading this off OF, and make “OF” here
signify SOURCE or/and/or/in this encounter. I would deepen this
experience with Robert Duncan’s take-off ON a quote: ‘The physi-
cal world is a light world. The real world, Thomas Vaughan wrote,
is invisible. ‘Thus, in the physical or spiritual or light world all forms
or beings—stones, trees, stars, streams, men, flames and turds—are
really facts of invisible presence. Mineral, wood, fire, water, flesh
are terms of dense soul-full sense.”” And I would re-direct the reader
‘‘Whomsoever” to specifics such as the metal of a sewing machine,

The Yale Literary Magazine 143(4), 1965

BGRARECOK@ME SB
the wood handle of a remembered umbrella, this page as imagined
dissected by flames, the thought-full struggle of imagining a water-
thing (without recourse to word-sense “body of water” and/or imag-
ined container) and the flesh of the eye reading this. Then I’d
take Jack Spicer’s command (from “A Textbook of Poetry”) “See
through into” and dissect that, as he does, with his: “like it is not
possible with flesh only by beginning not to be a human being. Only
by beginning not to be a soul.” (Both Duncan & Spicer quotes are
from Duncan’s “Properties And Our REAL Estate” from “Journal
For The Protection of all Beings—No. 1”.)
Taking the above quotes as axiomatic in inter-action of the trace
from France (1) to Germany (E) to East Coast U.S. (W) and thru
filter of American continent to West Coast (D & S) of consideration’s
change from OF things to ON things to THRU INTO (the eye of
the reader taking place of “things”), that is: taking the above as
international law (of Surreal manifestation) and conditioning sub-
laws pertaining finally to properties of thingness, I find foremost
FORce of Surrealism TO BE a directing OF itself (History) ON
object (“object” replacing “things” in this light) rather than on
position of things (‘‘juxta” or otherwise) for a going THRU INTO
(“IN”: The Present) in celebration of (Future: Imaged) sense of
Being; but, having come full circle (to: “... of... of”) following
a thread of paper thru the things words are to the needle in the eye
of the imagined-future reader, let us (as imagined) celebrate (rather
than consider) the Surrealism created (originated) on the thread
between things; and let us remember (piece together) the ashes of it,
FOR (if we remember correctly) it was a burning thread; and then
let us wonder if we have (with/in all these considerations) but put
out the fire (perhaps to prevent it from consuming the things).
An Alexander (such as Burroughs or Byron Gyson) would at this
point simply cut the things (as Alexander did the Gordian Knot
when it was of prime consideration) ; but I do find that a killing of
the goose that lays the golden egg. We can deepen our considerations
of this matter by a Western faith in the eternity of the thread and/or
an Eastern Zen resignation: sense of the burning of the page this
is printed upon, all print evaporating in a slow smoke; but I will
leave those processes, thankfully, to the whomEVER (theologian
and academician) reader and pass, gratefully, on to my sense of eye
as visible brain matter, as surface sense of brain; and I will continue,
thereby, in consideration, viz:
4. EEE RAREIAGE
A careful re-reading of the first paragraph, taking quotes as Law
and conditioning sub-laws, gives sense that it was the light of the
“combustion” which was most permanent in the course of our fol-
lowing from BETWEEN to THRU INTO things (“BETWEEN”
now standing for OF-((SOURCE))-ON); but “things resist the
light, reflect it, to block our seeing THRU INTO, yielding us only
a surface-tension.” But if we begin ‘“‘not to be a soul,” give up the
drama of perception, and all other adventure-senses easily prefaced
with “self,” do we not ourselves become reflective OF the light? and
can we not think ON the surface as beginning? as a gain; and have
we not thereIN ignited the fire of the thread of imagination? (our
double “of” telling us where we are again: Present to these past
considerations). The things, as these words are things, will now put
forth threads OF illumination entangling viewer, reader, and each-
other. None will seem “alien” to eachother or on an alien plane
either; but neither can they engender an INTERnational Surrealism,
as each word hereIN must transform TO French word-clusters for
the imagined-future reader. At the point where a relationship
between things includes the imagined viewer-reader-etceterer, all
communication becomes imaginary. But all communication IS imag-
inary in any given PRESENT. Even the Kinesics (such as Ray L.
Birdwhistell) are scientifically informing us: “We do not communi-
cate. We participate in communication.” And I would again, under-
line the “in.” Or, as poet Charles Olson says: “Landscape is what
you see from where you are standing.” Or, as Gertrude Stein put it
(in “Four In America’): “Now what we know is formed in our
head by thousands of small occasions in the daily life. By ‘what we
know’ I do not mean, of course, what we learn from books, because
that is of no importance at all. I mean what we really know, like
our assurance about how we know anything, and what we know about
the validity of the sentiments, and things like that. All the thousands
of occasions in the daily life go into our head to form our ideas about
these things.” I would, of course, underline “things.” I include these
last two quotes to make it clear that if I sent you objects, other than
words, or pictures, moving or otherwise, it would in no sense alter
the individuality of the gesture other than as I re-considered the
imaginary viewer (as of “rather than reader’) and made “re” other-
wise referential in my considerations. Thus, Surrealism has become
an individual matter, as it was at beginning, as was all-ways in
consideration.
But then, what do we share (under title of “Surrealism” or other,
BGRAREO
e OK@ S
such as “Nation,” etcetera) in these exchanges? It is, of course, The
Light (which I now capitalize to signify its signification). Surreal-
ism (a capitalization signifying several seemingly related combus-
tions which, occurring at a time, or The Time, made many men aware
of the light, simultaneously aware, did engender a dance thereby,
which has now become The Dance), takes its shape there by: “Who
shall most advance the light—call it what you may,” as William
Carlos Williams wrote (in “Asphodel’’), and as it would, as a Thing,
search THRU INTO does depend upon past tensions such as out-
lined by Olson (in “Pieces of Time’”—“rt. Proprioception’’) :

‘Physiology: The surface (senses—the ‘skin’ of ‘Human

Universe’) the body itself—proper—one’s own
‘corpus’: PROPRIOCEPTION the cavity of
the body, in which the organs are slung: the
viscera, or interoceptive, the old ‘psychology’
of feeling, the heart; of desire, the liver; of
sympathy, the ‘bowels’; of courage—kidney etc.
—gall, (Stasis—or as in Chaucer only, spoofed)”’:

does take its directive ON, as Olson continues:

Today:
movement, at any cost. Kinesthesia: beat (nik)
the sense whose end organs lie in the muscles,
tendons, joints, and are stimulated by bodily
tensions (—or relaxations of same).
Violence: knives/anything, to get the body in”:

THRU INTO you, WHOMever. But, for example, if the word-

thing “Surrealism” sees thru into you as you see thru into it; the
‘Gt being an other word-thing will disperse the vision (except, for
instance, as you “read-into” Surrealism—for in-stance read “it” into
“Surrealism”) unless you participate in SEEING THRU INTO,
in the sense of participating in communication. Such participation
resists a reading-into, or any other form of Projection, resists your
imposing upon a thing, and/or Super-imposition, as the surface of a
thing resists light for reflection. Thus the individual surreal encounter
(uncapitalized surrealism, original of Surrealism) is created as an
imagined you (or as I imagine myself) imagines a thing seeing thru
into you seeing thru into, etcetera. Olson suggests this with:
wo BRAKE
The gain: to have a third term, so that movement or action
is ‘home,’ Neither the Unconscious nor
Projection (here used to remove the false
opposition of ‘Conscious’: ‘consciousness’ is
self) have a home unless the DEPTH implicit
in physical being—built-in space-time specifics,
and moving (by movement of ‘its own’)—is
asserted, or found-out as such. Thus the
advantage of the value ‘proprioception.’ As such.

The dream-work of Surrealism seems to me to formulate itself

(historically) thus: “I see thru into myself seeing thru into you
seeing thru into yourself seeing thru into me seeing me see you seeing
you see me.” Poet Robert Kelly (in “THE DREAM WORK/2,” in
“matter/2”) strings names along a line, thus:

“Europe) Gilgamesh Aristotle Cicero Chaucer Colonna...

Freud Jung”:

and, in earlier writing confined to “dream as psychic event in the

life of the dreamer,” writes: “My premise is that the dreamworld
in us is (like our lives, Q. E. D.) a complex solid of such a nature
that ‘crystalline structure’ is a more useful analogy than ‘line,’ chem-
istry a better ancilla than history.” (“THE DREAM WORK,”
‘“matter.”) This is a strong prime envisionment; but as I imagine
myself crystalline in my seeing thru anything seeing thru into me,
I am blocked from seeing thru into me seeing thru into anything
seeing thru into me seeing thru into... the “I” cut off from secon-
dary exchanges. Thus I am inclined to string “myself” along a line
of terms like “I” and “me’—a dream becomes a thing, again, to be
told-OF or to be visually represented as, say, picture OF crystal OF,
etcetera. In following these considerations I would soon find myself
as dependent ON three-dimensional perspective and sense of immo-
bility as most Surrealistic painting; and words would become as
specifically referential, immobile as symbol, as in most Surrealistic
poetry; and my film work would soon restrict the “motion” of
“motion pictures,” as Surrealistic films have never shown themselves
in complexities of movement, have rather tendered to “slow motion”;
and the sense of seeing would reduce to scenes referential drama, as
Surrealistic dramas, in films or even improvizations, present them-
selves primarily as staged events.
SCRAPBOOK 17

I cannot, at this time, suggest a more useful analogy than ‘crystal-

line structure,’ turn Kelly’s crystal around and around in my head,
letting it dissolve like snow “settling crystals locking and unlocking
with crystals” as he suggests, re-freezing it again and again. It took
the Zen masters time to come from “Dust is misplaced matter” to
“the dust is in the mind.” I feel sure it is The Time in which we are
related THRU reflection, rather than combustion, IN small ‘“‘s”
rather than capped surrealism TO SEEING THRU INTO.
Ae
18.
TO ED DORN
September 30, 1964

Dear Ed,

Some Bach Pedal Harpsichord music playing here beside me; and I’ve
an irresistible urge to write you—yet music pulling me strongly (making
long pauses in the typing here)...and yet the urge to write threads thought
impulses to the fingers along a line of melody (and it is the VERY PULL in
mind of both tendencies which I’m somehow now wanting—wanting,
perhaps, to get deeper into my concept of music as sound equivalent of the
mind’s moving, which is becoming so real to me that I’m coming to believe
the study of the history of music would reveal more of the changing
thought processes of a given culture than perhaps any other means—not
of thought shaped and/or Thoughts but of the Taking shape, psysiology of
thot or sumphin’...I mean, is there anything that will illustrate the feel of
chains of thought gripping and ungripping, rattling slowly around, a
block-concept, an Ideal, as Gregorian Chant, for instance?...and doesn't
The Break occur in Western Musical thought in terms of melody, story,
carrying blocks, making them events, along a line? (Or, as Kelly put it to me
recently: “& event is the greatness of story, i.e., where story & history &
myth & mind & physiology all at once interact” —and is not THAT the
greatness of Bach, the interaction of blocks becoming events as they inter
eachother in the act, in the course, of the line of melody? (I’m reminded
here that Gregorian notes WERE blocks in manuscript, stems attached
later to make flowers of em, and then, still later, strung along lined paper,
etcetera. And sometime later, when the notes are well rounded, flowering
right-and-upside-down, sporting flags, holes, etc., and all planted in the
neat gardens of the page, all in rows, it was possible for Mozart to play
Supreme Gardener: but there lurked Wagner who would, did, make of
each line of melody a block, specifically referential, so that the French
could image melody as a landscape, all thought of reference. But then
Webern made of it a cube, all lines of melody converging on some center to
form a cluster or what composer James Tenney, writing about Varese, does
call “a Klang.” And it does seem to me that with John Cage we are, thru
chance operations, to some approximation of Gregorian Chant again—
not held to links, as of achain-of-thought, but rather to the even more rigid
mathematical bell-shaped curve.
Ah, well, Bach is long since stopped: and even the needle in my mind is
revolving around a too narrow center now; but it was an exciting spin thru
a thousand years of possibilities. (And Olson is right: there is no end-
parenthesis...
SCRAPBOOK 19

TO MANIS PINKWATER

Day before Thanksgiving,’64

An artist MUST act on dream instruction (day AND night dream struc-
tures conditioning all his being) for continuance of his art. Some have
called this “inspiration,” some “the word of God,” some (more modernly)
“sub-conscious feed-back” or what-have-you (without quest shun mark)...
it doesn’t much matter what-you-call-it—there IS a process which governs
the arts, necessities of each medium which discipline the artist’s living
making it impossible for him to exist in an avoidance of the right, the rite:
and it is very encouraging, AND ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY for the
movement of works of art into the world at large (not to mention proper
celebration of birthdays), that there be others who permit instruction,
always dream structured, and act of their given sense of right, thus partici-
pate in the rite, in whatever way their form ofliving enables them. “Art for
art’s sake” is a term imposed on the, otherwise, opening field of the arts BY
a negligent or INdifferent society, a seige, as it were, which does force an,
otherwise ever opening, field into becoming a fortress of “ivory towers,”
etc., and/or (more modernly) a game preserve, wherein the forces of
nature may play withIN strictly defined boundaries imposed by most un-
natural game wardens, a place where natural forces are appreciated (as if
ore could applaud the universe) rather than experienced.
20
20.0 a ee a BRAKHA
eee GE

TO JAMES BROUGHTON
Mid Dec., 1964

Of His Story, then—when I married Jane, when Jane-and-I/I-and-

Jane married?, when (to put it accurately) Jane called her parents, after
my three-hour drunken harangue (like: “You’re just waiting around for
me to cut off my ear and send it to you”—“I’m just your affair with an
artist”—etc.) and told them she was eloping with me, when we got mar-
ried then (because it was easier than trying to lie to them about how
we'd accomplished it, blood-tests, ete., quick enough to be there two days
later for dinner where they first met me, etc.) when we were then married
(these seven years ago this coming Dec. 28th—our ‘contract to marriage’
probably, finally, legal this coming anniversary) I didn’t really expect
to live the year out, couldn’t really imagine sustaining myself thru all
that illness and those financial impossibilities, let alone the two of us.
Then when Myrrena was born, almost a year later, WHEN I was still
capable of holding a full time commercial film job, and when I was
healthily aware I WAS likely to go on living, I couldn’t POSSIBLY
imagine how I was going to support the three of us and go on with not
only my living but what was/IS synonymous, my being the artist I, after
ALL, AM. Then when I could no longer hold full time job and WHEN,
a little more than a year later, Crystal was born, it was REALLY impos-
sible for me to imagine HOW /WHAT I was AT ALL going TO DO!
And, as I can’t make expletives greater on this typewriter, and to make
a long story short, as you know, we now have FIVE children, and it is
IMPOSSIBLE for me to hold any kind of job for practically any length
of time, and (naturally) many more films than ever seem to be pouring
thru me (in these natural, to-an-artist, circumstances of our being).
Sometimes we go hungry for days at a time (a couple times without any
food): but we share that, after all, with ALL humans—every human
hungers almost all the time for SOME-thing or other. I have never had
anything NEAR to the technical means my imagination would term ade-
quate for my film work (just this year, as you know. have been reduced
to 8mm): but the imagination in any growing human is beyond existing
technical means (and I have refused to be “reduced” in any relation with
my work other than in technical terms, such as “millimeter”).Icannot tell
you how we’ve managed to go on (except that we have), nor how we
come to be where we are (except that we are), nor can I imagine (at all)
how we’re going to continue: but don’t I share this with any man who
knows the limits of history, and who knows (as you said I gave you some
SCRAPBOOK _ 21

sense of, viz:) “that It is Now & Here it Is whatever is born of this mo-
ment, as if there will never nor need ever be any other: immediacy, I
mean, and life Now ... ,” and with any man who has given up (as I am
only recently come to) all the black magic which prophecy, in sense of
‘control of future and/or anything not at hand’ IS.

Let me recite what history teaches, History teaches.

—G. Stein

From EX-perience, then, and without re-acting, let me take plants

of previous thoughts thru to whatever fulfillment of the moments of writ-
ing this: and I hope for growth along these lines thru to seeds for further
planting by ALL of us involved in these concerns—the twist of which, if
INvoluted, usually comes out as the distort term: money problem. Robert
Kelly once answered my use of that phrase with something like: there
IS NO “money problem,” per se . . . there are problems such as “how
much do you need,” “where can you get it,” etc. To take it CLEARLY
from there ’'ve found I MUST, at each instant, avoid all temptation of
prophecy, must THUS clear myself of ALL considerations of debt and/or
ANY past considerations which seek to extend themselves thru the present
and into the future, thus must clear myself of any such historical struc-
ture: and I find I must rid myself of any such sense as “further con-
siderations,” thus take The Present as a present, gift, with no attempt to
prophesy therefrom either. If debt exists in the present, the gift of it
cannot be accepted except in terms of “due consideration,” thus ex-
changes prohibit change, thus even cash change becomes checked in a
counter balance, thus residence in the living body of the moment becomes
resi-due: BUT, thus, at least “how much do you need” becomes physi-
ologically CLEAR; and, thus also, “where can you get it” often becomes
immediately “how can you pay the debt,” the resources of which are
often, if not always, to be found in myself’s immediate taking action—
most often immediately effective if with respect to the past . . . and
especially (as the word “immediately” can ONLY imply) withOUT guard
for the future (as the term “regard of” is impossible in this form).
Only a poet can deal with the word “money” as a living term. Only
a poet can make a present of it to the world; but I cannot imagine even
that possible in those terms “of it” and “to the world” except as he
would make it present—no, not that . .. more like: receive the presence
of it to the world of himself—NO, still not it... too many “of’s,” I sense
. something more immediate yet, like: give the word his world present
—and/or, to drop “pre”: give the word sense . . . dropping “his” pos-
session (all possessiveness tide to future, “securities” etc., prophetic in
22 BRAKHAGE

nature) out of it also. Often poets do this with respect to the past: but
a poet’s clearest etymological search does seem to me to be with that
respect withOUT guard and motivated by—no, rather: being a taking
action to pay the debt of the word

The true test of a work of art

Is out of how deep a life does it spring?
—James Joyce

I feel the following, also, to be true: “The true test of an artist’s life
is out of how deep a work does it spring.”
SGRARBOQK@EO
BEFORE SCENES FROM UNDER CHILDHOOD
I am involved in a 16mm color film I believe to be called: Scenes
From Under Childhood, or Scenes From Under Child Hood. The latter
distinction in title depends, I think, upon the extent to which I accomplish
a making of material, of the work, for the prompting of the aesthetic
experience withIN the mind of the viewer upON the recall of the indi-
vidual childhood experiences OF the viewer. As I do not, cannot as an
artist, work with any idea of audience in mind, “viewer” means specifi-
cally “the viewer I am, when not making, of my work.” I believe that when
I am most individualistic as viewer I participate to the greatest extent in
the communion which unites all viewers similarly concerned, each with
his and her individuality, that I share with each other, then, the universal
considerations upon which ritual, and thus art, depends, and that my
response thus, as primary to these considerations, is as like unto any
other’s as is possible: and experience with other individual viewers and
with audiences of large numbers of people have confirmed this belief.
Most of my film work the last several years has created experiences less
to be watched (as something “out there,” which presumes to instruct
by example, as the educational or propaganda film) and less, even, to
be seen into (as something “elsewhere” which pretends to transport the
viewer, succeeds in the illusion by creating imbalances which play upon
his or her sensibilities for balance, as do most entertainment films. Holly-
wood or otherwise) but more to be invisioned (as something “to be taken
in” thru an activated awareness on the viewer’s part of a “Want of
vision, or the power of seeing,” as Webster’s Dictionary defines the term
“Invision”). The simple distinction is this: I am primarily concerned
with making films which can be taken into the viewer, in thru his experi-
ence of himself in the act of seeing, without his being taken in by the
film and/or via his lack of experience. The crucial word in all this, with
regard to my future working processes, is “activated” in relationship to
“‘awareness on the viewer’s part of a ‘Want of vision, or the power of
seeing’ ”! To what extent can the work of art activate my sense of seeing
without educating same or imposing propagandistically upon me? How
much can said work exist within its necessary sets of circumstances
without pulling on my sensibilities thru any lack of vision on my part?
In some recent films of mine, particularly Dog Star Man and The Art of
Vision, some highly structured and integrally necessary levels of vision
are created in such a way that they can only exist in the eye of the viewer.
For instance, a single frame may be painted red, superimposed with a

From a letter to the Avon Foundation, March 18, 1965

Mo eee
gray toned image and preceded and followed by frames of overexposed
imagery in such a way that that frame will be seen as green, if seen at all
(that is, if the viewer is “normal” in his creation of after-image color
retention, if his optic nerves retain green after a red-flash in such circum-
stances—the fact that the viewer may be color-blind or may have blinked
his eyes in that instant can, obviously, be no more a concern of mine
than the possibility he may be blind altogether or may have chosen to
go out for a bag of popcorn, etc.). Now I find, with regard to Scenes
From Under Child Hood, that many of my thoughts these days tend to the
possibilities of creating, and depending upon, a level of that film which
can occur as exclusively in the mind of the viewer as certain levels of
Dog Star Man, etc., can only occur in the eye. I have already taken over
a thousand feet of images of my children playing, etc.: and this unedited
material has inspired the above concept. This concept must not impose
itself upon my working processes but must rather be, if anything, a
source of inspiration during the editing and ordering of visions. I am
thinking of that particular thousand feet of images of my children’s
activities as containing the possibility, among many possibilities, of being
structured in direct relationship to thought processes so that, as material,
they might evoke aesthetically necessary images in me, as viewer, from
the memories of my childhood, and that this could happen as primarily
and universally as to constitute a source of communion and ritual of
response with other viewers. Should these considerations prove impos-
sible, unwise at this time, or simply otherwise in the working process,
I shall probably find myself working on a much longer film called Scenes
From Under Childhood involving photography of “snapshot” material,
variously animated moving pictures of “stills” from my childhood, or
perhaps an even longer film to be called Autobiograph.
SCRAPBOOK 25

TO ANDREW MEYERS

Rollinsville, Colo. anger to the lab, the SAME lab,

April somewhat, 1965 as it happens: Western Cine...
only in those days, the lab was
Dear Andrew, essentially John Newell and Her-
man Urshal and a B. & W. pro-
Knowing the matters of this cessing machine & a printer in a
letter are going to concern Jonas basement. ‘They patiently ex-
and P. Adams, and Bob Brana- plained to me the facts of printing
man, and having little time for which, in B. & W., are compara-
writing letters these days, I’m tively simple: in order to get a
making a couple of carbons as I print anywhere near the balance
go along here. of light of the original, light
At Jonas’ instigation I’ve also changes have to be made in the
supervised the making of a double printing to compensate for in-
8mm master (on 16mm stock) creased contrasts naturally occur-
and, thus, two prints of some ring in any removal, any print
of Bob Branaman’s films along made, from the original; and
with your ANNUNCIATION these light changes must be made
and SHADES & DRUMBEATS. with respect to the specific print
I have compared ALL these stock being used and even the par-
prints, now finished, with the ticular batch of stock IN stock and
masters and the masters with the with respect to the processing (de-
originals (along with prints of velopment) of that stock (which
MOTHLIGHT which I’ve just is why tests of an incredible num-
made) and it is my opinion that ber are made daily in every lab
they are ALL remarkably good right down to and including the
prints: BUT, let me qualify that relative humidity). The first print
statement with respect for your made with these light changes im-
disturbance over the print of posed IN the printing is called an
ANNUNCIATION. answer print: and I have yet to
I remember very well the day find a lab anywhere that will
I first received a one-lite print, as guarantee the answer print to be
it’s called, of my 16mm B. & W. more than an answer as to how to
film, INTERIM, as it was—I was make the second print, with its
horrified at the loss of subtle detail second series of light changes,
in grays, the harshness of line, the more approximate to the original
over-exposure, the under-expo- —tho’, for me, Western Cine’s an-
sure, etcetera: and I rushed in swer prints have always been very

Film Culture 40, Spring 1966

26 BRAKHAGE

close to the best that can be ex- sity’ which seems appropriate to
pected, resulting in much fewer THAT particular part of DSM,
light changes for the second print with all its reference to even the
than is usual in laboratory work Hollywood drama, and the print
. of late, particularly Mike quality serves to set it, thusly,
Phillips, an employee there (and apart from the overall tone of
the one who timed your prints), ALL other parts of that film. Of
has shown remarkable judgment course, special measures have
in timing, as it’s called, for a well- been taken all along the working
balanced answer print. When I process of each part to set its over-
made my first color print, of IN all tone apart from each other:
BETWEEN, thru San Francisco’s but, in the case of Part 1, its major
Palmer Films, I went thru print tone is achieved by the special
torments all over again, even printing qualities of the lab which
WITH an answer print; for the prints it, qualities which are alto-
slightest variation in light values gether too (how shall I say?)—
of course changes ALL color “bluishly” narrow for the major-
values and balances: and I went ity of my work. So you see, An-
thru fresh tortures with each color drew, that I have concerned my-
print (learning, thereby, the ir- self to an unusual extent, since my
regularities color tone in the vary- first betrayed sensitivity in print
ing print stocks) and an especial making, with the particularities
sturm and drang (thereby) when of the subject; and, at the same
I transferred some color work time, I have HAD to come to
from various other labs to West- accept the particularities of prints
ern Cine (the “thereby” referring and the resultant generalities of
to the differing methods of pro- the medium—(I must confess
cessing, etcetera, which would be that, at the present, I am having
involved in changing ANY film a rage against “greenish” procliv-
from one lab to another). For in- ity of the new Eastman print
stance, even tho’ I am obviously stock, a MOST picayune rage for
more pleased by Western Cine’s one of my experience in the me-
work, particularly with reference dium and yet, it is that very expe-
to latitude of color quality, I rience which has increased my
HAVE left DOG STAR MAN: sensitivity to the slightest variance
PART 1 at Palmer Labs because and has, momentarily I hope, nar-
their particular processing, etc., rowed the tolerance my experi-
produces a print which is ence has also provided for me—
(HOW shall I describe something “momentarily I hope” because
so subtle?—), well, “colder,” there is a tremendous danger for
“slicker,” of a “polished den- the artist, and for anyone, in such
SCRAPBOOK 27

a Critic-type use of sensitivity .. . whole of ANNUNCIATION was

we need only, here, take warning too light OR too dark, a compen-
from Charles Ives’ trembling fits sating light change could be made
over the dropped fork at the table in the second print; but the very
or from Edgard Varese’s neces- fact that it is both too light in
sity, for a number of years, to re- some areas and too dark in others
move himself to the relative silence confirms the correct medium
of Death Valley .. . and for the choice taken for the best print of
film-maker, in such a newly bas- most of the film. The second
tard medium of constantly shift- title, for instance, is very light on
ing values, it would be madness at the original, is over-exposed and
the second step . . NO—I must, barely visible on the master, and is
rather, put up with the green (of the course of increasing con-
moth wings and, MORE, come trast with each removal from orig-
to see how perfectly MOTH- inal) completely washed out on
LIGHT sustains its original form the print. Now, you might prefer
in these new color balances, and, to order the whole second set of
more YET, how beautifully it prints a stop darker, which would
grows anew in thi: new Eastman probably get you the barely legi-
spring of itself.) ble imprint of your name on that
Now, in 8mm printing, we have second credit shot; but then, the
an additional problem to all those dark shots you are complaining
mentioned above (and to all those about might go to absolutely black
unmentioned and, even, unmen- leader. There is nothing, with ex-
tionable) and that is that there is isting 8mm equipment at this
no lab (known to me) which can time, which can be done about
make light changes in 8mm; and, this problem—the problem, thus,
therefore, there is ONLY and becomes one of the technical
ALWAYS a one-light print being terms of the medium itself... I
made (unless 8mm is blown up to have come to take it for granted
16mm, corrected, and reduced to in the very shooting of the film;
8mm again—a rather expensive and I’m sure that you will, simi-
process). The only control the larly, benefit from experience
lab can exercise, thus, is in the which, in this instance, and in
choice of the one-light with refer- some sense always, can only seem
ence to the particular stock being an unnecessary frustration.
used. I think Mike Phillips hit it (Ah... “in some sense always”
on the button, so to speak, with —Jane and I have just been talk-
every single master and print we ing about this in relation to our
have just had made. You see, had whole life. Yesterday I stood on
your complaint been that the the porch and raged at the piles
28 BRAKHAGE

of snow around our house, at tion in mechanical pitch which,

the mess it has made of the road when first I heard it, I took to be
in its melting, at the length of inadequacy of turntable, have
this winter which the old-timers now come to know as variation in
around here call “one of the worst” electrical current so that, when
in memory—some 8 months out my neighbor’s refrigerator goes
of this year we’ve had snow here on, my ears are critically tortured
—: and I found myself in the in midst of new-found listening
absurd but animistically real posi- joy—ah, the curse of John Cage
tion of sputtering: “Poor form!”’: extends in his total gesture—
at the pissy sky, extending my fin- which Andy Warhol extends—
gers in exasperation at the, to me which the muddy roads and the
now, dull blacks and whites of the pissy skies extend—which any-
scene in all directions and yelling: thing taken totally, thru to end/
“Tt’s a fucking Andy Warhol beginning, extends—((yes, even
movie, that’s what it is!”: feeling Eastman) ) . . . which even I, at
the full force of Napoleon’s “Fifth first ( (as they tell me) ) torturing
element: mud!” with every glance people’s eyes, can hope to extend
at the almost impassable road— in beginning/end/beginning, et-
part of my boredom is due to the cetera. Ah, but it was really the
extent to which I HAVE im- “etcetera” which touched off con-
mersed myself in this scene, pho- verse between Jane and [I in this:
tographing some of the minutest that we can tend to distract our-
details of winter here, and part is selves from the “going-onness”’ of
due to my LACK of sensitivity to everything AND from the realiza-
it, its sameness, its changes, etcet- tion of the ultimate “un-ness” of
era... ah, well, it is beginning to anything with our rages of un-
snow, AGAIN, right now today acceptance which can ONLY be
as I sit here writing this to you— premised on SOME sense of
those flocks of sheepish flakes!: purpose, touching off all of plot
how do they DARE to show their aesthetically and plan _ realisti-
symmetrical faces to me thru cally control prophetically/blas-
this window; and, yet, if they all phemously/etceterally, the very
started coming down Eastman etcetera of which thwarts purpose
green, what kind of a rage of fear naturally from scratch—and it IS
and anguish would THAT pre- strange, and somehow encourag-
cipitate in me? And then, down- ing to me in this moment, that
stairs, the phonograph is playing; man tends to be about equally
and my increased sensitivity in distressed about birth AND death,
music listening of late has made seeking to sense the former as
me aware of the slightest varia- change ((transformation) ) and
SCRAPBOOK 29

the latter as, at least, X-change And that’s the best I can do
((transfiguration) ), both procliv- for you, Andrew, at this time;
ities cancelling each other into and I hope it’s the most I have
the feelings of the moment, the to do at the moment for 8mm AT
“going-onness” of that, the “go- LARGE, because I have a most
ing-on-unness” of the past, the specific little “song” calling me
“going-un-onness” of the future, into a techne of its own, informed
“going” becoming “being” in all in its coming into being with/
that, and—oh, my, these words and/of Eastman green and no-
becoming more and more black- wise concerned, now, with other/
flake answers of mine across a later-Eastman in-clin-tone-ations
page to the sift of the sky outside and/or with costs and my, no
my window ... and you'll have to doubt, future cussing thereabouts
forgive me for that, Andrew—it —“Song 11”. . . and so the songs
is my way of satisfying the mon- ARE, yes, of a “going-onness” be-
key-chatter instincts in my origins yond my previous imaginings
... What would human beings be which clutched, but didn’t brake,
like if they were descended from at “10.”
cats, I wonder?) Blessings,

TO ABBOTT MEADER
Beginning June, 1965 people (“7 out of 10 marriages
end in divorce,” a lawyer friend
Dear Abbott, tells me), I'd better be more spe-
eine than= levhave; “heretofore;
Apropo yr very fine close-ques- been:
tioning of my statements on “en- Jane and I live in a perpetual
gagement” in the experience of state of divorce-and-marriage;
art, in ““Metaphors on Vision”: that is: we separate (in all senses
I had found myself already say- save that we live in each other’s
ing, on that last speech trek, in sight, sense surroundings, under
answer to such-like questioning: the same roof), make it FINAL
“T don’t think an artist should get (proclaiming the intolerability of
engaged unless he intends to get some characteristic in one or the
married”; but then, as I mean other—usually several-such in the
something much different by divide of both of us); and then
“married” than, apparently, most we come together when each has

Film Culture 40, Spring 1966

30 BRAKHAGE

shaped new sense of self and the He hear her, she hymn, they
other (the tentative lace of come in form, he Ho!, she
words/fingers, etc., in acknowl- Hummmm, he Haw!, she He!,
edgement of the inevitability of He’s-he, She-she, each miss tree
attraction, an “engagement’ pe- in which:
riod in all this, “marriage” that He hear her, etceter (ahhhhh
inevitability.) Most others, it over all of it).
seems to me, lie about their feel- Thus, the “engagement” to me
ings, hedge the “intolerable” IN is simply sensing (hearing/seeing)
(7 out of 10? . .. only?), the self the other (and so for-th): “mar-
trying to take it upon it’s (“take riage” ultimate of good sense (one
it like a man”... like a woman?, that leads to source): permitting
etc.), finally, in self’s “failure” all self’s senses to experience sin-
(strength, actually, to resist self’s gular senses’ attraction; and
suicide) they come to believe too “making it” (opposite of “making
much in externals, providence-as- it up” and other than “‘last,”’ etc.)
self’s-servant (what?all will “drop the actual feed-back, the exercise
from heaven”: other women/ (play) of source IN self (AT
men?, happen/ing/ness?, etc.?) large).
and, that failing, in societal means Only value of this writ-(you-
(go to court as they once a’court- all) is as it stands against The
ing went, cancel preach-err with Right(ch’us) on grounds that
lawyer, etcet-er-errr) and _ start don’t exist around a missed tree.
superfishing again (the man dan- Only those who care to give an
gling his cock in the waters/she UNRE-(hersed)-DANCE in the
drifting him to her/his next nat- sheer aire-(ear)-y of it can live in
ural falls.) this (IN-Stan’t this lettering IS).
Now, as to “making it’—art I no longer care for over-see-errs
ang /Or ee and under-stand-err-errs.
SCRAPBOOK 3!

TO JONAS MEKAS
A snowed mid-Sept., 1965 you'll find first works dependent
totally on the eye... that, THUS,
Dear Jonas, the art of moving pictures is
LEAST subject TO—MOST ob-
The world utterly white out- ject ofn—ALL OTHER ARTS
side now—flares of aspens, even, . . that, THEREFORE, it de-
snowed. This freeze thaws me fines itself most completely in all
inside, somehow . . . some very THE MUSE MEANS / THE
NEW work willing up. I find my- BRAIN’S IN-FORMATION, as
self feeling that it is the total phys- painting does as it ceases to BE
iological impulse of a man must information AS illustration, as
be given form in the making of a music does as it ceases to BE in-
work of, thus, called, art. I think formation as mathematics, as
all subject matter is a peg to prose does as it ceases to “make
hang this impulse on, that outside up stories,” as poetry does as it
source of a work is simply that ceases to “tell” and is as words as
which excites the entire physiol- it ceases to mathematically mea-
ogy of the man, and that he can- sure as it ceases description, “mak-
not commission that from himself ing pictures”... that, ANDSO-
anymore than he can decide to be FORTH, the art of moving pic-
impulsive and have that decision tures is further along the back-
affect more of his physiology bone than all other arts: BUT,
than the “derangement” Rim- most men abort this drive by tak-
baud writes of/out of. A prime ing information OF physiology as
drive of all contemporary arts source of sensibility, take mind’s
seems premised on many individ- impulse as total, thus utter
ual needs to get inside one’s own thought only, bog down in brain
skin—via dreams (Surrealism), matter, etc.. AND/OR commis-
via some duct or other: the find- sion excitement in arrangements
ing muse/source in physiological of color, pattern, shape, into what
sense: as has painting (Abstract) turns out to be for brain’s sake
in closed-eye vision, as has music only (Bach, for instance, got much
(Electronic) in ear’s hearing, as further “for God’s sake”: thought
has poetry (Black Mtn.) in extending, thus, thru faith into
breath’s measure, etc.; and in this the unknown for source of impulse
sense, the art of moving pictures innards—subject matter? . . . the
is the oldest art of living times in variously inner impulses taking
that it was the medium wherein shape in sound, the term “fan-

Film Culture 40, Spring 1966

32 BRAKHAGE

tasy,’ as with the works, thus pulse up) all content (“AS A
called, of Swelinck particularly, WIFE HAS A COW ((IS))* A
Vivaldi also, etc., but especially LOVE STORY’—.G. Stein) all
Bach, helping to defeat domi- referential source (as excitement
nance of brain wave’s math in is a past tension available only
music, giving excuse perhaps for thru brain’s immediacy) will
ear-regularities and/or impulses cease to in - form the work . . . ex -
of an un-brain-known origin.) I ternal means could thus (perhaps
believe in THE NEW PHYSIO- for the first time in a million
LOGICAL MAN Michael Mc- years) be IN - direct/dance-touch
Clure writes of, and that an artist with a man’s IM - pressed/pulse -
can only hope to become some- EXpression.
thing of that man He TOTALLY Well—wow . . how I’ve made
IS and then, in order, to create a bend for your eye-ear this morn-
out of more than he’s a mind to. ing, dear Jonas. I only intended,
I believe each person’s absolute at start, to write thru a flurry of
necessity to inhabit the present snow here and tell you how we all
will make it finally impossible for are. We're happily fine.
an artist to accept even the com-
mission his own memories’ ur- Joy to you,
gency prompts—that, thus, all
subject matter (as impeg hanging *my addition
SCRAPBOOK 33

TO JEROME HILL
Late March, 1966 that the deepest considerations of
Winds everywhichway— the word “style” (historically, for
Jane and I just hung a instance, as it comes out of the
kite in a pine tree... . Latin “stylus,” referring to the in-
strument of writing—which is,
Dear Jerome, after all and finally, the human
being himself—and keeping close
Your film strips are BEAUTI- to its phallic origin clear thru the
FUL! The color quality of them Elizabethan Era, taking on the
is sO very much “yours,” as I re- Teutonic “stellen”—to set or
member from your painting, that place . . . “self-styled” being pos-
I am moved to considerations of sible out of this...) lead one in-
style as soul and of man’s particu- evitable to the sense of it as a most
lar sphere/environment of color personally definitive piece of our
possibilities as soul’s tone—you language—that, for example, a
are, perhaps, familiar with some man’s penmanship is unlike any
of the 19th century drives in this other’s enough so that money can
direction . . . Rudolph Steiner, pass on it, that “style” is precisely
eiceteray a) allot which walas, what cannot be translated from
washed out in world consideration one language to another unless the
because of the fake mysticism of author himself makes that trans-
a few... Madam Blavatsky?, et- lation (then it is exactly STYLE
cetera?! (I use question marks which IS translatable), that a
here because of Robert Duncan’s painter’s color tone (like ghosts,
recent defense of Blavatsky, in visions, etc.) is unphotographable,
issue of Aion Magazine, defense unreproduceable, etcetera... (I
of the beauty of the world of her will use your film strips in refer-
imagination and the perfected ence to the photographs of your
synthesis of earlier image-birth paintings to remind me of the
definitions she’d made—which true-to-your-soul /sense of the
naturally, as Duncan finds it, she color of the originals, however,
was forced to “fake” in the face because color style is—as these
of the so-called “real” world’s prove—translatable if the painter
demands . . . the question mark involves himself creatively in the
ought, really, to occur after the photography/reproduction, etc.—
phrase, “fake mysticism,” a pos- as you have here done. . .) And
sibly unlikely combination of I, all the same, marvel that you
words). Anyway, it is interesting made this magic—the startlingly/

Film Culture 40, Spring 1966

34 BRAKHAGE

uniquely beautiful color in those out some celebration of the mys-

pieces! —by painting on color teries premised on faith.)
negative . . . perhaps the perfect Jane put the films up on the
‘“once-removal” mechanism, or mirror in the dining room, where
“angel-interstice” I call it, needed the light reflects thru them, their
to permit the passage of your bouquet of frames, most marvel-
soul’s tone onto film . . . the “mys- ously.
terium”’ for “‘soul’s passage,” the
ancients would have called it, Joys,
working thru “Blind Faith,” a
middle-ages craftsman would Stan
have called it (the kind of “blind”
Homer was said to have had)— Postscript: Did you know that
(and you surely were, in a sense, the FIRST censored movie (in
painting in a kind of “color blind,” this pre-Civil-War Country) was
when you had the courage/faith the early 19th-century whirligig
to work on the negative, taking all hand toy, the crucial one of whose
your technical knowledge of color movies flickered the dozen-pic-
translation, thus, as only the reli- tures-or-so of The Devil throwing
gious knowledge in your posses- a small boy into the flames of
sion .. . useless for soul-stuff with- Hell?

TO NED O’GORMAN
April Fool’s Day, 1966 tendency of control over The
Future . . . avoids, thus, both Debt
Dear Ned, and Prophecy (Faust’s problems)
.. . lives, therefore, very much in
A Child of the Times, which I his/her skin (kinship centered
take myself to be, lives this (every primarily on sex) .. . and, here-
instant anyday) poised in imme- tofore, heralds what I take (with-
diacy and posed upon The Pres- out predicting) to be The Physio-
ent as gift from an unknown logical Man—as defined most
benefactor—lives op-posed (out clearly/immediately in the writ-
of “seeing is believing”) to The ings of Michael McClure (“Meat
Past as more than memory can Science Essays,” “The Surge,”
make immediate, and_ posited “Poisoned Wheat,” etc.) out of
against any more than a pre- Charles Olson (“Proprioception,”

Film Culture 40, Spring 1966

SCRAPBOOK 35

etc.) and taking whatever of the and is inspired by one or another

19th century is presently useful of the arts according to personal
via the dedication to same of Rob- necessity. Film is, thus, either not
ert Duncan (the “H. D.” book, an art at all or it is the oldest art
cic of our times. In either case, it was
The arts of this Man take Sense the first medium of this century
as Muse so that poetry arises in to shape itself primarily thru the
direct relationship to the word as sense necessities of the individual
a cultural-memory particle (Dun- makers dedicated to it and to
can), the breath of the man writ- begin to define itself, thus, by way
ing (Olson), his changes of throat, of its shared physical relationship
tongue, lip, etc., in rendering it to all other arts and, thus, to seek
into sound (Zukofsky) and the its outgrowth thru inspired intake
tantric reverberations of same in without more regard, or guarding
the various areas of his whole against, historical aesthetics than
body giving utterance (McClure) came in the wake, or death, of
—so that music orients itself to those forms it necessarily fed upon
the emotive ear (all tape music and sustained in itself. As a public
utilizing dramatically evocative medium, it has been the last/first
sounds) and/or intensities and source of ritual in our time: but
rhythms of thought (all “purely” some few children have played
electronic music, most “twelve”— privately enough with it to en-
and more—“‘tonic” music) rather gender what I like to call uni-
than mathematical formulation— personal visions wherein The Per-
so that painting arises out of the sona ceases to be Mask once it is
physical act out of emotion (Ac- known as flesh and The Ivory
tion painting) and/or takes shape Tower of inwardness takes shape
according to those mental pro- again on Public Domain at the
cesses creating “closed-eye vision” outermost limits of physiological
(Op Art), etcetera. awareness.
The Film-Maker of this Time
inherits these, and many other, Blessings,
physiologically premised direc-
tions as possibilities of influence Stan
on an essentially “open” medium
36 BRAKHAGE

TO DOLORES DANIELS
Dolores E. Daniels
Principal
Rollinsville Elementary School
Rollinsville, Colorado

Dear Dolores Daniels,

I can understand something of your position—I can, yes, understand

enough of this incident from your standpoint to sincerely address you as
“Dear,” as above: and if you had simply written us and stated, as some
school rule you’d felt the need to make, a requirement that we, say, bathe
Myrrena once a week, we would certainly have found it easier, I suppose,
to comply than to take issue . . . to be specific about our “individual
philosophy,” as you call it, I think that if you’d required a “once-a-day”
bath, I’d have felt inclined to fuss this matter right into the law courts,
if necessary (you might as well find out right now that I’m a dedicated
man when it comes to my beliefs, that I’m one of those humans concerned
enough with every individual right I am often in conflict with most of
the current trends of this society, that I am thus one of those individuals
it is popularly convenient to dismiss as “trouble-maker” and/or, as of
the last several years, “beatnik” —the latter term expressing more of the
hope, I think, of the satisfied “middle-class” that its dissenting children
are “beaten” at their individuality rather than, as is more true, that they
are “beating out” some paths of more sanity than were left to us by the
previous generation ... )
But your letter is more than a request, states more than a simple
requirement you might have felt your position forced you to impose—
indeed, you do not finally state any requirement at all, will not take that
responsibility (as is so often the way with those who act, in the name of
the social order and in terms of its “unwritten” laws, to infringe on the
rights of individuals) . . . and, instead, you express indignation (“because
of the odor, which is offensive to the point of nausea”—really, Miss
Daniels!) and seek to shame us (“It seems grossly unfair to penalize a
child in this way”) — etcetera. As you seem to me to be primarily a
good person, I suppose you have taken the tactic of this letter because
of your own doubts in this situation—that that made you delay in writing
“because we want to respect your individual philosophy” . . . and yet,
and then, when you felt compelled to write us finally (because of your

Film Culture 40, Spring 1966

MOWARAS OC
position, the complaints of those in your—or rather Myrrena’s environ-
ment) you passed not only the burden of this responsibility onto us (and
that we can justly assume) but also the vestiges of your frustration (which
we Cannot assume ).
Let me be clear, therefore, about our lack of shame: my wife and I
both cherish the human senses, have developed them in ourselves (and
hopefully, in our children) to a high degree. My life’s work, as a film
artist, particularly qualifies me to search out and create thru the finest
qualities of human vision: but we do also cultivate, naturally in our
love of living, all other senses. The sense of smell has been particularly
delightful to us—an area of sensibility rich in surprises to the searching
human precisely because it has suffered such common human neglect,
has been so suppressed in most people’s upbringing. As a result of our
opening our nostrils, so to speak, we have come to be aware of the fact
(now scientifically established by Ray L. Birdwhistell and others in the
field of kinesiology ) that the human being, and indeed every living thing,
participates in the communication with others very largely thru the
emitting of smells specific to individual emotion. My wife and I, for
instance, have learned to consciously differentiate the smell of fear (a
sour-milk-&-burnt-fat efluvium) from, say, hate (somewhat like moist-
ened-charcoal-of-burnt-meat, sometimes coupled with sea-weedly-salt).
These emotional-emits ave repulsive to us, but naturally thus—that is,
because they are biologically intended to repulse . . . they are those
indications of necessary- (if fight is to be avoided) -creature separation.
We respect every human smell particularly, as we take it to be our
responsibility (ability to respond) to participate meaningfully with
others: BUT, we do NOT respect the evasions deodorants are—we do
not know any more how to meaningfully accommodate these than you,
I think, would know how to accommodate a person who intentionally
distorted the exchange of language for the purposes of evasion . . . I hope
to think you would dismiss such a person as a liar and would be distressed
at all such proclivity in current human activity (and I like to imagine,
at this moment, that you are distressed at the hypocrisy in, say, the
average television deodorant ad . . . as well as, say, the more subtle, but
no less lying, journalistic usages of our language, the destruction of
specific meaning thru sloppy usage, on the one hand, and intentional
propaganda, on the other—in fact, I would have the right to expect you
to be concerned with these matters, as you are a teacher and, more, a
principal: one who, I believe, should be primary guardian of the whole
heritage of education AND as against, or at least resisting cautiously, the
38 BRAKHAGE

too-easy proclivity of the present—you see, if you understand me, that

I am actually very conservative in my attitudes... ).
But then you are of necessity, also, a principal in the popular liberal
sense: a representative of the popular trends within the institutional
environment, a mediator in democratic procedure—and, as such, some-
what of a benevolent dictator too (as has always been necessary to the
liberal concept of democratic procedure): and, thus, you find yourself
representative for, from my viewpoint, a soap-and-deordorant-crazy
society and as against, in this instance, this individual drive to retrieve
human animal sensibility. You may find me selfish in this matter, wishing
my way rather than simply condescending to the will of the many, making
my child suffer (as you suggest) because of personal peculiarities: but
I would ask you to consider, please, what is the traditional responsibility
of the artist. It would be easy, selfish, of me to conform: but if all did,
there would be no arts, nor sciences either, nor any of the traditional
historical forms—there would, then, be no formal education either . . .
there would be nothing for you to teach or be principal of. My way is
shaped, as is traditionally so for artists—a condition of their work, you
might say— by an ever-increasing knowledge of historical aesthetics
AND, as is of primary importance, a being true to my senses in all my
experiencing of the present. From that standpoint, and with whatever
authority I deserve for my position, I find the society deranged with
regard to “hygiene” (as you put it) and in danger of psychologically
destroying, for its individual members, one of its most precious senses,
the sense of smell. In search of the possible cause for this, that I take
to be a cultural insanity, ’'ve come across the following passage by a
very great artist of our immediate past (a man much despised in his
lifetime—but one coming now to be respected enough I expect you'll
be teaching him in your school within a decade) .. . D. H.Lawrence—
and I quote:
“Once the heart is broken, people become repulsive to one another
secretly, and they develop social benevolence. They smell in each other’s
nostrils. It has been said often enough of more primitive or old-world
peoples, who live together in a state of blind mistrust but also of close
physical connection with one another, that they have no noses. They
are so Close, the flow from body to body is so powerful, that they hardly
smell one another, and hardly are aware at all of offensive human odors
that madden the new civilizations. As it says in this novel (he’s referring
to the novel, “Bottom Dogs” by Edward Dahlberg): The American
senses other people by their sweat and their kitchens. By which he means,
their repulsive effluvia. And this is basically true. Once the blood-sym-
SCRAPBOOK
2 - ~ 3939

pathy breaks, and only the nerve-sympathy is left, human beings become
secretly intensely repulsive to one another, physically, and sympathetic
only mentally and spiritually. The secret physical repulsion between
people is responsible for the perfection of American ‘plumbing,’ Ameri-
can sanitation, the American kitchen, utterly white-enamelled and anti-
septic. It is revealed in the awful advertisements such as those about
‘halitosis,’ or bad breath. It is responsible for the American nausea at
coughing, spitting, or any of those things. The American townships
don’t mind hideous litter of tin cans and paper and broken rubbish. But
they go crazy at the sight of human excrement.”
Yes, I believe much of the American “heart is broken”: but I also
believe it means to mend itself and, more, to grow utterly new—but very
real—tissue . . . I mean, I believe we are entering an era of physicality,
that we are taking from our whole animal beingness, and that I am
personally responsible to/and/for the sense aesthetics of this: the experi-
encing of the senses fully in whatever present living, and the tradition
of this. How, believing that, can I possibly encourage my daughter in
the ways you indignantly suggest I ought to . . . and still be true to her?
No—if you had succeeded in shaming me, you would have introduced
hypocrisy into this household. I don’t expect hypocrisy from you—I
emphatically do NOT “expect that Myrrena be given individual atten-
tion by the teachers’—I do NOT expect you to “strongly suggest that
the other children work or play with her” . . . both of those ideas, and
all the false social benevolence & hypocritical human behavior implied,
horrify me.
As we did never prevent Myrrena from washing or bathing (as, in fact,
she has the example of myself bathing about 3 times a week with joy—
I enjoy the water and relaxation—) I can only inform her of the exact
situation, as I see it, and encourage her with the joys I find in bathing.
If that does not satisfy you, then please feel free to be direct with me in
this, and all future, matters.

Sincerely,
40 BRAKHAGE

TO MICHAEL MCCLURE
March ’66, quoting
from his poem, “Power”

A few more words about Scenes From Under Childhood — Viz, say, the sense of
some particular power remembered, I’m after the rhythm of blinking of:

“A black rainbow in 3D
curved and solid blinking
black neon
in a chrome box”:

and after the particular colors this black pulse takes upon itself—for the colors are
INdrawn, one color always more than another at each pulse, while all of such a mix
as to engender the sense of black OR white (why you call the box “chrome,” natch) :
and in this working, I have had black & white positive and negative prints made of
much of the color film so that there can mix in exact superimpositions, pulsing
according to need, in the editing.

It is that the work itself, the finished film, should be source only for what occurs
in the mind of the viewer . . . as is always the case, natch, but never before (or
hardly ever) premised so clearly in the making, taken as such exact assumption in
the creative process. But, to be clearer yet, this process is actually opposite of the
PREsumptions of Op Art (where I find the intention is to affect the viewer, his
affectation necessary to pull off, so to speak, the effect the work is—that he must
be optically bugged, as it were, for the work to exist) because I am simply here
involved with a process so naturally always existent its workings have been over-
looked: that the light takes shape in the nerve endings and IS shaped, in some
accordance we call communication, thru physiological relationship.

March ’66

I slept 14 hours last night! awoke this morning full of thoughts of The Feast, have
just re-read the play . . . God, what a masterWHOLE it is, the space it makes in
THE critical religious tension of our TimePIECE. The whole thing flares in my
imagination as in the space of 35mm Cinemascope, PRECISELY BECAUSE THE
WHOLE SPACE WOULD NEED NEVER BE USED, would be a being there as
SPACE for the filling-(with)-IN the imagination of the viewer; so that I envision
the entire work occurring in the mind of the viewer, only your words and visual
illustrations, in the purest sense of the word, coming in from the OUTside of him/
her/whom/ever. Actually I sense the vision of the work occurring, ESSENTIALLY,
in two spaces: (1) above the heads of the viewers, in the movements of the strings
of light from projection booth (and this would be the space I would directly bring
SCRAPB
a OOK, t
into being) and (2) within the forefront of the brain (taking eyes as brain at surface)
to such an extent that the thumbs of the viewers (as thumb area of brain overlaps
eye motor area) would surely join the dance of the work. Your words do already
give specific DIRECTION, sound the ear with air that knows of its taking shape,
thus touches all knowing DIRECTLY. Thus:

“The light of Blessing is meaningless there’s no light

in the closed rose but a tiny black cherub
sleeps there and sings to the creatures |
that walk in the cliffs of the Lillys pollen
moving from shadow to light in the drips
of rain.
The seen is as black as the eye seeing it.
What is carved in air is blank as the finger
touching it.
All is the point touched and
THE RELEASE.
Caress.”

It is the impossibility of making Nolight that permits black rose (as there IS a rose
tinted black-leader) as it is the impossibility of the eye to retain any but complimen-
tary color that permits black-blue to make an other-color of rose (as retained blue
light will make a rose which can only bloom in the EYE of the viewer), etc. (Dog
Star Man ends on the dying shapes in fields of changing tones of variously tinted,
so called: “black”: leaders.)

A move “from shadow to night” in negative means the swallowing up of shape

so that a bringing into shape can ONLY occur in the mind of the imagination
extending itself upon the given possibility. If the change occurs at the instant of
taking shape, and the change be visually from positive to negative, only the sense
of shape will ever occur (and that only in the transformation) ; and thus shape will
only occur in the extending of the imagination of the viewer feeding upon what
was sensed (in transformation).

“What is carved in air is blank as the finger touching it.”” Give me a finger moving
in air; and it will be picture of finger for one frame only (1/40th of a second), will
become a carve of solid shape in air, thus: each frame is exposed full-time length
needed for the movement (say: 20 seconds), and first frame finger is still at starting
point, second frame finger has retained its position and then moved a fraction of an
inch during the exposure, third frame finger returns to starting position and moves
two fractions of an inch during exposure, and so on for 480 frames—finger carves
solid shape OF itself in space of picture area . . . is finger-picture ONLY at time-
source of itself, thus only in the referential mind of the viewer.

THUS: Illustration, MOVING illustration, which, taking language as source

only, cannot possibly interfere with the images language engenders in the mind of
the viewer but only encourage that activity further by being TOUCH-(upon the
optic nerves) -TONE upon the eyes of the viewer.
42 BRAKHAGE

But, I must temper the above with THE FACT that The Feast, thus: as a film:
would AT BEST cost $100,000.00.

GOD DAMN THE MONEY PROBLEM, the hard solid million years old
UTTERLY MISTAKEN at source PICTURES, dirty pictures, of it interfering
with every turn of my imagination these days.

But, then, pictures too, in filming this work, would be of essential source for imagi-
nation. Thus, a Cinemascope space which was never filled but only implied the given
set of The Feast would reply upon Leonardo’s Last Supper in the minds of the
viewer. Perhaps I, in some such living awareness, even at this difficult time, can
draw a blessing from these considerations. The other way would be, of course, to do
away with Leonardo & MONEY altogether, forget Last Supper & Cinemascope
completely, and dig this vision out of trash baskets behind Western Cine Labs. But
I fear, in all my life these days, being driven to a coming to terms with JUNK, being
driven from the clearly beautiful visions my present surroundings engender to a
coming to terms with the constructed ugliness and rotting junk debris of it which is
my sight of the city; for I sense, in that exchange, in my seeing the works of all
artists who thus “make it,” that it is only the struggle to find beauty in ugliness which
is, in itself, beautiful; and I fear some devil-pact is being slipped over & eventually
upon us all, in this exchange, wherein the artist sensibility will, finally, be tricked
and/or driven, as most other human sensibilities in our TIME-piece, to DISTOR-
TION in which ugliness is beauty and, ULTIMATELY (wherein even the beauty
of the struggle would be lost) VICE VERSA.
SCRAPBOOK

S.A. #1
*IT IS MIND MOVEMENT which finally, vitally, concerns me IN
another man’s art

NOT that I am THAT interested in Gloucester BUT that Olson’s

breath breaks temporal constructs in THIS brain

it: ART: (not BRAIN) but THAT interested/constructs THAT

that it is man’s art (not that this brain)

IS mind move me in ANOTHER MAN

that I AM that construction IN this BRAIN

IT: that is man

THAT: brain

TEMPO ION?—the eyes have it... viz:

ability to trace Greek-columnar (I)’s from the first space-place,*
string second, third (I)’s as verticals along-the- (first) -line, etc.
find second (I) roofed (T), fourth two (II) supporting “v” for
(M) etcetera.

tempoR All?—ear-responsibility . . .
that “v” is (not pronouncable)
that “IT IS” are like (Germanized)
tiatmyee nines ac 1 eves (in beng.)

i on?—
(UN mind) 3202.

vis-ability

OF relationship between columns & lop-sided pedastals with

balls a’top (°) of ’om (i)

“which fin... vit” allies ears to eyes

AND bodies
2 back-throat Ichy CAPS, a double
unpro-noun-cable uncap-v’-CAP aye-aye,
and a first person singular “T”’
44 BRAKHAGE

F Acts

Lmake-IFrot ite:

Asel maker
ltvol ita ees

As IF I make It...

As if “as” were “A-Z” ...

Aig ihoa: 1S 2's

S15 aAS ae

and so for THE: Axe:

AXE: :the

S A won, mind moving now axiomatically, viz:

(won) : of script of brain, say: “gray matter.”

(too) : (d) scrip (of Chaucer) mine(d: bray IN as)

print(or: IMitater) a(ver((b)) as handwriting),
say: “Coll or as sociate mat.”

(the re): (see) script (see Shakespeare)my(((e) )nd:

“T,/But now ’tis made an “H’’) refer (((h) )ence:
Anthony and Cleopatra, IV, vii,8) other(((X)) YZ
Zukofsky’s Bottom on Shakespeare, page 33, top),
say: ‘Dis cull or dis A-Z ocean ma(h).”

(F, or): (be) scribe (be((e) ) Milt-) Im eye (be I((n))

Whit-) “cookie-” (be eye A (g)) -on -man)
“pusher (be in((g)) Pound), say: “Disc all
or ‘dis a sew see on ‘em.’ ”

(F I've): (a) seri(m)))):and (a((m))) a (ma((n))) and

(((S))((A “Fire of waters.”

AS Kelly

“The truth of the matter/is this:

that man’s body

lives in a fire of waters

& will live forever in
the first taste.”
SCRAPBOOK 45

AS Collage “The taste”

F AS “The truth”

forth 1 backthroat itch, 2 tongued-to-lips-

out “i” ’s (as here a-pos-trophied distinct
from double & half quoted), and double-double
lop-sided columns after, etcetera.

SEE quence: not to MORE than mention “‘v” to

“Vv”, “M” “M”, “MOVEMENT . . . concerns”
such aaM : M : : 1 : 1 displace-space)-
ment, in telling, which intellect will
seek to balance, in spelling, with “i” to > 6¢ 99

“eye” to “comma” and an eary Ooooo-Ehhhh to

ooh-eeh for a ‘““meIN’’, etc.

resiDUE? INconsideration! (VJZ-a-“V’’) :

*Olson’s breath breaks’

‘in Gloucester”

(and a few other particulars)

F A-Z “of the matter”

IF “is this:
that”

I “man’s body”

F Acts ‘lives in a fire of waters

& will live forever in
the first taste.”

F aXe, thus, makes bode of man’s

makes waters subject to his
(and particularizes Z)
M6 EE Ae
8MM SEEING VISION
Before I actually began working in 8mm, I had talked about it for
several years. Then at one point, when I had come to New York with
my whole family, things were very bad: we [independent film-makers|
were pressured on questions of censorship and couldn’t get a place to
show films anywhere. Some were speaking of going to jail and being
martyrs. I said, why fight for the right to show our films in the audi-
toriums? They never have been of much use to the film artist anyway,
for most works of film art are designed to be seen many times, and your
auditorium experience is never anything more than an introduction.
I have said for years that showing a film that is a work of art once in
an auditorium is like a single flashing of an Ezra Pound poem around
the old New York Times building’s electric news sign. They’ve got to
stop this business of never considering a film something which needs
to be seen several times in order to understand it. Television has made
the one-shot a primary way of encountering visual experience. If you
miss a TV show, it'll probably never be on again, so there’s no possibility
of study. Therefore, there’s no room for a work that exists on multiple
levels.
If this sort of presentation were true of poetry, poetry couldn’t exist.
In the language that poetry requires, study and involvement and an ability
to manipulate language back and forth are necessary. If film got into
the homes it would suddenly open up all those possibilities. A man could
not only have the film and look at it as many times as he wanted to,
which is important, but also—perhaps more important—exactly when he
wanted to. Maybe at home he could even stop the film and look at an
individual frame, or run it at any conceivable speed and move it back-
wards and forwards to study it.
This is something the foundations could help make possible, and they
absolutely refuse to do it. The foundations have the perfect opportunity
to buy a finished work of film art from an artist (instead of commissioning
nonexistent work, as they seem to prefer, and which, not surprisingly,
often turns out badly, or not at all) and put it into 8mm cartridges. Then
they could give it to libraries and institutions where people can simply
pick it up and stick it in a machine, there or at home, and look at it as
often as they want to. And the foundations would, in the process, have
paid for that work to support the artist so that he could go on and do
whatever he’s doing, and give the work to the people in a meaningful way.
Soon after that mess about censorship, we went to live in an 1890's
Newsletter of 8mm in Education, Spring 1966
SGRARBCOKM@EEEO
cabin in a ghost town at about 9,000 ft. on the continental divide. Just
before we left New York, some of my 16mm equipment had been stolen,
so when we got settled, I went into town and found that I could buy—
with money that wouldn’t even begin to buy a 16mm editor—all the used
8mm equipment I needed. For about $25, I could get a camera, editors,
rewinds, lights, and even a roll of film.
My work had passed through the influence of other media: the theatre,
Hollywood movies and educational movies. All those are rooted in
drama. The distinction makes very little difference. The fact that the
camera moves around doesn’t make a film profoundly different from
looking at, say, a Tennessee Williams stage play through a pair of zoom-
lens binoculars controlled by Elia Kazan [its director]. He would zoom
in on the actress’s face at one point and swish over to the actor’s and
so on back and forth. He would control the exact area, in size and shape,
of what you were seeing, but otherwise you would be watching a stage
play—and that’s basically what’s still going on in the film medium.
As the influence of drama passed out of my work, then came painting,
poetry, and music. The poetic idea that meant something to me was the
word “song.” It really rang to me and made association. But it bothered
me that the art of film was always leaning to some extent on these previous
arts; so I needed a base, a source of inspiration, a form that had run
clear through film from its very beginning, that was more clean of these
other older arts. That’s where the home movie is an inspiring thing,
because a man—for all his embarrassment—when he’s working with his
8mm home movie camera is usually trying to make a record of what he
cares about. He has to get over his embarrassment and stop trying to
imitate Hollywood or TV, and simply use the camera with the sense of
what is in his hands. It’s good if he wants to put something in it of
how he feels about the things he photographs—how much he’s enjoying
the trip he’s taking, how much it’s bugging him, too; and how much he
loves his wife and his children, or how much or to what degree he hates
one or the other of them at that moment. If he could let all that come
into it, then what he made could be expressive.
So these things, home movies and song, involve me very much with
8mm, and I knew that through them J could restore the film form to
what it was at source. So I began to try it, and Song I is “Portrait of
Jane,” my wife, just as she sits around the house and reads. As I see her
sitting and reading. I knew I had to get something of the sense of what
her world was like to her, so I kept track of the footage numbers as I
ran the film through the camera for the first time; then I went back
48 BRAKHAGE

and laid in two levels of superimposition. I tried to do it very subtly,

to give some sense of the passage of the world through her mind’s eye,
as it was imagined in my mind’s eye, of what she was thinking and doing.
It was always a mystery to me what this woman that I loved was doing
when she was so much in her own world—reading, sitting by herself.
Not to presume more in what she was actually thinking about, but only
to put myself in it enough to say, well, here are the rocks that pass
through her mind and that I know she loves so much, and here is her
parents’ shadow moving, and so on.
Even the limitations of 8mm are interesting: that you can’t do A and
B roll printing, that there wasn’t much that could be done in the labs.
You work with “8” as does a still photographer, who never depends on
the labs in that sense. When I came to the editing—and I edited quite
a lot—I could splice: I could change and shift around.
I get very excited, too, about the colors and textures of 8mm: 8mm
is very grainy and “grainy” means that you can blow up the small image
so large that you are, in fact, seeing the grain field of it, the crystals of
its silver haloids. This is important to me because I feel that graininess
is part of vision—especially closed-eye vision, in which you see the dot
field and grains and shapes moving around. So there is a correspondence
in 8mm to closed-eye vision; this grain field in 8mm is like seeing yourself
seeing.
I have always thought of 8mm as something that had particular forms
unto itself which, if they were fully gone into, would make it an expressive
medium utterly distinct from “16” or “35.” We can always take those
16’s or 35’s and reduce them so that they could be distributed in “8,”
but that never has interested me as much as the film that was made for
8mm from the beginning.
SCRAPBOOK 49

FILM AND MUSIC

Dear Ronna Page, with the conventional usages of music
for “mood” and so-called “realistic
Jonas Mekas will have whatever ma- sounds” as mere referendum to image
terial has been salvaged on and/or by in movies, and Jean Cocteau’s poetic
me—old clips, “stills,” etcetera—as I film plays, for all their dramatic limita-
make a practice of sending them all to tions, had demonstrated beautifully to
him for Film-Makers’ Cooperative files. me that only non-descriptive language
As to quotes out of my past, I imag- could co-exist with moving image (in
ine you have ample material in any but a poor operatic sense), that
FILM CULTURE issues and my book words, whether spoken or printed could
METAPHORS ON VISION. I am only finally relate to visuals in motion
presently working on a long film thru a necessity of means and/or an
(16mm) to be called: SCENES integrity as severely visual as that dem-
FROM UNDER CHILDHOOD. It onstrated by the masterpieces of collage.
would probably be of particular interest The more informed I became with
to your Parisian readers to know that aesthetics of sound, the less I began to
this work-in-progress is to some extent feel any need for an audio accompani-
inspired by the music of Olivier Mes- ment of the visuals I was making. I
siaen and, to some lesser extent, Jean think it was seven/eight years ago I
Barraque, Pierre Boulez, Henri Pous- began making intentionally silent films.
seur, and Karlheinz Stockhausen (all, Although I have always kept myself
I believe, former pupils of Messiaen). open to the possibilities of sound while
Fifteen years ago I began working creating any film, and in fact made a
with the film medium as primarily number of sound films these last several
shaped by the influence of stage drama. years, I now see/feel no more absolute
Since that time, both poetry and paint- necessity for a sound track than a
ing have alternately proved more painter feels the need to exhibit a paint-
growth-engendering sources of inspira- ing with a recorded musical back-
tion than either the trappings of the ground. Ironically, the more silently-
stage or the specific continuity limita- oriented my creative philosophies have
tion of any “making up a story,” novel- become, the more _ inspired-by-music
istic tendencies, etcetera: and the first have my photographic aesthetics and
departures in my working-orders from my actual editing orders become, both
“fiction” sources gave rise to an integral engendering a coming-into-being of the
involvement with musical notation as physiological relationship between see-
a key to film editing aesthetics. Some ing and hearing in the making of a
ten years ago I studied informally with work of art in film.
both John Cage and Edgard Varese, at I find, with Cassius Keyser, that “the
first with the idea of searching out a structure of mathematics is similar to
new relationship between image and that of the human nervous system” and
sound and, thus, creating a new dimen- have for years been studying the rela-
sion for the sound track, as Jean Isidore tionship between physiology and mathe-
Isow’s VENOM AND ETERNITY had matics via such books as Sir D’Arcy
created in me a complete dissatisfaction Thompson’s ON GROWTH AND

e Film: A Reader of
Written in April 1966; published in Guerrila, June 1967, and in The Avant-Gard
Theory and Criticism edited by P. Adams Sitney, 1978
50 BRAKHAGE

FORM: and following those “leads” OUTside the musical frame of refer-
along a line of music, I’ve come to the ence. But then Webern made of it a
following thoughts (which I'll quote cube, all lines of melody converging on
from an article of mine which ap- some center to form a cluster or what
peared in the magazine WILD DOG) : composer James Tenney, writing about
“I’m somehow now wanting to get Varese, does call “a Klang.” And it
deeper into my concept of music as does seem to me that with John Cage
sound equivalent of the mind’s moving, we are, thru chance operations, to some
which is becoming so real to me that approximation of Gregorian Chant
I’m coming to believe the study of the
again— not held to links, as of a chain-
of-thought, but rather to the even more
history of music would reveal more of
rigid mathematical bell-shaped curve.”
the changing thought processes of a
given culture than perhaps any other
J. S. Bach has been called “the great-
means—not of thought shaped and/or
est composer of the 20th century”: his
Thoughts but of the Taking shape,
current popularity is probably due to
physiology of thought or some such... the facts that (1) he was the greatest
I mean, is there anything that will illus- composer of his own time and (2) most
trate the feel of chains of thought grip- of the western world has, in the mean-
ping and ungripping, rattling slowly time, come to think easily in a baroque
around, a block-concept, an Ideal, as fashion—come to think naturally ba-
Gregorian Chant, for instance? ... and roquely, one might say were it not that
doesn’t The Break occur in Western this process of thought is the result of
musical thought in terms of melody, these several centuries of cultural train-
story, carrying blocks, making them ing. The most modern baroqueists in
events, along a line? (Or, as poet Rob- music were, of course, the twelve-ton-
ert Kelly put it to me recently: “& ists: and my ANTICIPATION OF
event is the greatness of story, i.e., THE NIGHT was specifically inspired
where story and history & myth & mind by the relationships I heard between the
& physiology all at once interact”—and music of J. S. Bach and Anton Webern.
events as they enter each other in the The crisis of Western Man’s historical
act, in the course, of the line of melody? thought processes struggling with the
(I’m reminded here that Gregorian needs of contemporary living (techno-
notes WERE blocks in manuscript, logical as against mechanistic) has
stems attached later to make flowers of never been more clearly expressed than
‘em, and then, still later, strung along in Webern’s adaptation of Bach’s MU-
lined paper, etcetera. And sometime SICAL OFFERING (which piece has
later, when the notes were well rounded, inspired several films of mine, most
flowering right-and-upside-down, sport- dramatically the sound film BLUE
ing flags, holes, etc., and all planted in MOSES): but the most essentially op-
the neat gardens of the page, all in rows, timistic (if I may use so psychological
it was possible for Mozart to play Su- a word) force of musical thought has
preme Gardener; but there lurked come from Debussy, Faure, Ravel,
Wagner who would, did, make of each Roussel, Satie, and even Lili Boulanger,
line of melody a block, specifically ref- etcetera—all moving along a line of
erential, so that the French could im- hearing into the inner ear (the sphere
age melody as a landscape, all thought of “music of the spheres” being now
referential to picture, i.e. to something consciously the human head) . . . just
SCRAPBOOK ty

as all visual masters of this century cal chord possibilities is to the, any,
who’ve promised more than a past-ten- dominant fifth . . . for instance, any
sion of The Illustrative have centered tone of the inner-ear seems to be hear-
the occasions of their inspiration in the able as a pulse, or wave of that tone, or
mind’s eye (so-called “Abstract Paint- irregular rhythm and tempo, “waver-
ing” having a very concrete physiologi- ingness” one might say: and yet these
cal basis in “closed eye vision’). hearable pulse-patterns repeat, at inter-
I seek to hear color just as Messiaen vals, and reverse, and etcetera, in a way
seeks to see sounds. As he writes (in analogous to the “themes and varia-
notes for the record of CHRONO- tion” patterns of some western musical
CHROMIE). forms. External sounds heard seem to
affect these inner-ear pulses more by
Colour: the sounds colour the way of the emotions engendered than
durations because they are, for me, by specific tonal and/or rhythmic cor-
bound to colour by unseen ties. respondences: whereas the external
pulse perceived by the eye does seem to
I find these “ties” to be sense impulses more directly affect the ear’s in-pulse.
of the nervous system and find them to But then that’s a much more compli-
have exact physiological limiations but cated matter, too, because the eye has
unlimited psychological growth poten- its own in-pulse—the color red, for in-
tial thru the act of seeing and hearing, stance, will be held, with the eye closed,
and/or otherwise sensing, them. Mes- as a retention-color with a much differ-
slaen goes on: ent vibrancy, or pulse, than red seems
with eyes open, and so on—and the
When I listen to music, and even rhythm-pattern-flashes of the eye’s-
when I read it, I have an inward nerve-ends, making up the grainy shapes
vision of marvellous colours—colours of closed-eye vision, are quite distinct
which blend like combinations of from inner-ear’s “theme and variations”
notes, and which shift and revolve ... So much so that no familiar counter-
with the sounds. point is recognizable. Well, just SO—
for these fields of the mind feeling out
I recall first hearing shifting chords its own physiology via eyes and ears
of sound that corresponded in meaning- turned inward, so to speak, are prime
ful interplay with what I was seeing centers of inspiration for both musical
when I was a child in a Kansas corn- and visual composers of this century
field at mid-night. That was the first who take Sense as Muse (as do all who
time I was in an environment silent recognize the move from Technological
enough to permit me to hear “the music to Electrical Era of 20th century living)
of the spheres,” as it’s called, and visu- . and there is very little historical
ally specific enough for me to be aware precedence in the working orders, or
of the eye’s pulse of receiving image. the achievements, of these artists.
John Cage once, in a soundproof cham- Well, all of the above essaying (which
ber, picked out a dominant fifth and was grew way beyond any intended length)
told later that he was hearing his nerv- should at least serve to distinguish my
ous system and blood circulation: but intentions and processes, and whatever
the matter is a great deal more compli- films of mine arise there-thru, from
cated than that— at least as much more most of the rest of the so-called Under-
complicated as the whole range of musi- ground Film Movement: and (as you
52 BRAKHAGE

asked specifically about this in your To be clear about it (and to answer an-
letter) I’ll take the opportunity to em- other of your questions about my atti-
phasize that I feel at polar odds and tude toward increasing censorship) :
ends therefrom whatever usually arises I’ve many times risked jail sentences
from that “movement” into public for showing films of mine which were,
print, especially when journalists and at the time, subject to sexual censorship
critics are presuming to write about laws, and will do so again if the occa-
myself and my work. I’m certainly sion arises: but I have never, and will
nothing BUT uneasy about the any/ never, force said works upon an unpre-
everybody’s too facile sense of mixed- pared or antagonistic audience, have
media, which seems by report to be never made them party-to/subject-of
dominating the New York Scene, at the (and/or) /illustration-for “The Cause
present. Whether the “mix” is per of Sexual Freedom” or some-such. I
chance (operations) or per romance made those films, as all my films, out of
(opera) or per some scientific stance personal necessity taking shape thru
(Op) or just plain folksy, Grand OP means available to me of historical
Opry, dance (Pop), I’ve very little aesthetics. I risked imprisonment show-
actual interest in it, nor in The Old ing them in order to meet the, as re-
Doc-(umentary) school, with its “spoon quested, needs of others. To have
full of sugar help the medicine go forced these works upon others, because
down” either—all these socio-oriented of my presumption of the good-for-
effect-films being related to “The them in such occasion, would have been
Cause” rather than Aesthetics . . . and to blaspheme against the process out of
some of them, naturally, working beau- which the works arise and to have even-
tifully in that context; but most of tually destroyed myself as instrument of
them, these days causing sensibility- that process . . . freedom, of expression-
crippling confusions in the long run, or-other, can only exist meaningfully
because all are sailing into import under out of full respect to the means of its
the flag of “Art,” leaving that term becoming: and a work of art does
bereft of meaning and those films which never impress, in the usual sense of the
are simply “beautiful works” (which word, but rather is free-express always
will “do no work” but will “live for- —and it does, therefore, require some
ever,’ as Ezra Pound says of his songs) free space, some fragile atmosphere of
lacking the distinction that there IS attenuated sensibility, in which to be
that possibility for cinema, as estab- received . . . the social strength of the
lished in all other arts, or works that arts is rooted in human need to freely
can and must be seen many times, will attend, which demonstrates itself over
last, have qualities of integrality to be and over again in that people finally
shored against the dis-continuities of DO create such an UNlikely (free of
fashionable time. I do not ever like to all likenesses) space wherein aesthetic
see a “Cause” made of, or around, a (shaped with respect to his/somebody-
work of art; and I strive to make films else’s and history’s means) can be re-
integrally cohesive enough to be im- ceived. Let society’s sex-pendulum
pregnable to the rape of facile usage swing “anti” again, if it will (tho’ I
(shudder at the thought of Hitler hope it won’t), the works of art of sex
shoveling eight million Jews into the impulse will continue to be made as
furnace off the pages of “Thus Spake surely as babies and to have an eventual
Zarathustra,’ etcetera, for instance). public life as surely as babies grow up.
SCRAPBOOK 53

A MOVING PICTURE
GIVING AND TAKING BOOK

Film Culture 41, 1966

Ee
54
PART ONE:

This is a moving picture giving and taking book. It will begin

with those areas of moving pictures where the gift of the maker is
most easily accomplished, and move toward those areas where taking
is predominant—but always with the view in my mind of encouraging
giving ... my sense of accomplishment being determined by the ex-
tent to which the moving picture maker can continue to give when
increased technical knowledge permits him to take more and more
from and of moving pictures, bless him.

I begin with very few assumptions about you, reader, but I must
presume some interest on your part in becoming a moving picture
maker; and I’ll refer to you as maker, for short, and for the long view
of your historical origin (as instrument of giving of yourself) in the
poet. Ill thank you not to presume on this title—I invoke it to help
inspire the writing of this book ... I leave it to the powers of your
being to determine whether or not you have and/or will have earned
it. Thank you.

I assume that you have no tools for moving picture making, and I
must begin, now, to ask of you. Provide yourself with a strip of mov-
ing picture film. It may be called 8 millimeter (mm, for short), 16
mm, 35mm, or any other mm}, so long as it has the kind of holes in
it which make it possible to move it and thus make moving pictures
of it. The film may be:

(1) Black Leader— note whatever other color the

(Unexposed and developed film black is tinged with: brown, usu-
—opacity: the result of retained ally, or if color-film-black-leader:
emulsion.) blue, green, etc.
(Sometimes referred to as Opaque
Leader) note it is not opaque, how
much light passes thru it, how it
can be seen thru.

(2) Clear Leader— note whatever color its clarity is

(Exposed and developed film— tinged with: blue, purple, yellow,
clarity: the result of the removal etc.
of emulsion.) (Sometimes referred to as Blank
Leader) note it is not blank, how
SCRAPBOOK ee
eee ee 55
t—‘(ti‘Ctss~sSCSSSS

many dust motes, scratches, imper-

fections dot its surface and inter-
fere with the transmission of light.

(3) White Leader— note whatever other color the

(Unexposed and undeveloped white is tinged with: yellow, usu-
film—it has been fixed: lly, etc.
hypoed. ) (Sometimes referred to simply as
Leader) this is the material most
often used at the beginning of a
film to be projected.

(4) Gray Leader— note whatever other color its gray-

(Unexposed and undeveloped ness is tinged with: usually deep
and unhypoed film.) purple, etc.
note also its possible color changes
as it sits exposed to the light day
after day.

(5) Moving pics— which, I assume, you didn’t take

but an interest in, perhaps only to
the extent that they were given you
free of even the small cost of the
above-mentioned leaders.

Your strip of film will, in all cases, have a dull side and a shiny side
(tho’ you will find it difficult to tell the difference if using clear
leader). The shiny side will be referred to as the base side, and the
dull side will be referred to as the emulsion side (which accounts for
your difficulty with clear leader from which almost all emulsion has
been removed—tho’ the emulsion side still remains stickier when
moistened than the base side). I will now ask you to make some
marks upon the emulsion side of the strip: (if you have either black
leader or gray leader, I suggest you scratch the emulsion side of the
film with some sharp instrument of your own choice)—(if you have
clear leader I suggest you use india ink applied with some point suit-
able for making both small dots and fairly even lines)—(if you have
any of the other types of strips of film listed above, I encourage either
scratching or inking and/or both if you choose) . . . please do not be
inhibited by my suggestions as they are are only offered with specific
reference to forthcoming text—that is, if you are excited enough, at
SoC BRAKHAGE
this time, lay aside this book and go to work. And good luck to you
if this is our parting point.
Your strip of film will have a series of evenly spaced rectangular
holes punched along either one or both sides of it: these will be re-
ferred to as sprocket holes. Film with sprocket holes on both sides
will be referred to as double-sprocketed—film sprocketed on only one
side: single-sprocketed. Hold the strip so that it dangles, vertically,
down. With double-sprocketed film, the space between each set of
double sprockets (or, in single-sprocketed film, that space you can
define if you imagine an identical set of sprocket holes on the side
opposite of those you have) is the picture area—that is, each set of
sprocket holes defines the area of an individual, unmoving, trans-
parent picture ... and when you hold the strip vertically, with its
emulsion side facing you, it is in position for the correct projection of
a series of individual, unmoving, images of exactly what you see on
the film when looking thru each window defined by sprocket holes
(except that, in order to project the image you see, to enlarge it
brightly and sharply on some distant plane, you would have to con-
centrate bright light thru it and focus it sharply thru some lens which
would, given an average lens, reverse left to right and vice versa, but
not, ordinarily, top to bottom). If you focus your own eyes sharply
upon it, you will notice irregularities in whatever kind of film strip
you hold, in even the most so-called opaque or blank; and these nicks
or scratches in black, dust motes and hairs in clear, etc., are, given
controlled light and a lens, eminently projectionable (tho’ usually
considered objectionable) pictures. Similarly, any mark you make,
whether scratched, inked, or both, can be projected (and objective—
dependent on your thoughtfulness, the precision of your mark, and
your precise knowledge of the picture area which will be projected—
so to be both more precise and, of necessity, general about it: the top
and bottom lines of your frame, as picture area is also called, can be
imagined as equally dividing the sprocket holes on either side, the
right and left framing as continuing the inside vertical line estab-
lished by the sprocket holes . . . tho’ generally, this picture area is
dependent upon the projector, etc., so that all edges of your frame are
somewhat indeterminate). Now you, the maker, are qualified to make
still images for projection; and all those interested in making black
and white, hand-drawn, slide films can discontinue reading this book.
And now it is time for a story. I do not know whether it is a true
story, in the sense of fact; but it is certainly true in a mythic sense...
and it is wonderful that so young a medium as motion picture making
SCRAPB
ee ae OOK
a eee ee ee 57
ti‘“‘C‘CSCSC—‘~SSYT

already has its myths. It is said that Pathé, great roth century in-
ventor and photographer, invited his friend Méliés, a famous stage
magician, over to his house to show him a new gadget he’d created.
He projected onto the wall a picture of a beach scene with incoming
waves. Meliés must have fidgeted, as image-projection, or transpar-
encies, were nothing new to him (did, in fact, date back centuries to
the undetermined origin of shadow-plays) ;but suddenly the waves
in that image began to move, were actually seen coming in to splash
dramatically on the beach (and these moving projections were not
mere shadow silhouettes in movement but composed of photographic
detail). Méliés must immediately have taken the phenomenon as
Magic, and then as “magic” in his business sense of the word; for, so
the story goes, he at once tried to buy whatever gadget produced this
effect, and then he asked how it worked, etc. But Pathé would neither
sell his marvelous gadget nor would he reveal the secret of its work-
ings; for he said that, to his way of thinking, moving pictures were
not for entertainment but for serious scientific purposes and to be used
only as a recording device, etc. So, Méliés went home and, simply out
of his knowledge of transparencies, and his realization that they were
capable of moving picture transformations, created a motion picture
projector of his own. As I find the origin, or at least the mythological
origin, of all moving picture making, other than as defined by Pathe’s
way of thinking, in this stage magician Meélieés, I will refer to him
often—of which this is an introduction ... to be engendering a: how
did he dor
As I am assuming that you have no moving picture camera, I sug-
gest you draw, by ink or by scratch, some representation of Pathe’s
beach scene as you imagine it; and as you are probably finding the
finger-nail size picture area somewhat restrictive, I further suggest
that you draw, however sketchily, a single in-coming wave. Move
down the strip of film one frame and re-draw your wave as exactly
like the one in the frame above as you are able, only make it a little,
very little, more in-coming—very slightly closer to whichever edge of
the frame its crest is pointing. Move down to the third frame and re-
peat this process, drawing-in your wave a little further. Etcetera. If
you choose to become elaborate, you might attempt to draw, in each
succeeding frame, some simulation of the increasing collapse of your
wave upon some beach or other of your imagination; but this would
probably require a more careful study of ocean waves, if you have an
ocean available, than you have ever before imagined. In any case, you
have now begun the creation of a potentially movable picture uni-
Nai
fT
verse of your giving. It isa simpler matter for you to set your universe
in motion than it was for either God or Méliés, for there are a number
of machines ready-made to engage with your basic material, the strip
of film, and to automatically project the gift of your incoming wave
to a distant enlargement, and to project the whole series of waves in
such a way as to give them the appearance of being a single wave in
movement. These machines can be divided into two types: moving
picture projectors and moving picture viewers. But before I intro-
duce you to these two types, and the various kinds of machine within
each category, I would like to make you familiar with the essential
process which is common to all so that no matter which kind or type
of machine you encounter you will always be able to engage it with
whatever film strip you have for the most successful marriage of the
two in operation and the simplest possible birth of moving pictures.
If you were drawing on paper, as indeed Méliés must first have
done, rather than a strip of moving picture film, as instructed, I would
have asked you to make each drawing of your wave on a different
sheet of paper and then to have flipped rapidly through the whole
sequence to produce a moving picture. This is indeed, an adequate
method with which to practice sequential drawing and serves to illus-
trate three aspects of the moving picture process:
(1) What you can most readily notice from thumbing thru flip-
pics is that the success of the illusion of movement depends
most critically upon the flips: those split-second interruptions
between pictures, when one picture has vanished in the blur
of the page turning and the next picture has not yet become
fully visible—were it not for those interruptions between pic-
tures the pics themselves would blur into an unintelligible
mass of lines.
(2) You can also note that the timing of the flipping, or flip-
rhythm, is crucial—when flipped too slowly, the series reveals
itself to be exactly what it is: a series of still pictures... when
flipped too rapidly, the potential movement blur one into
another):
(3) You can further note that the tempo, rate of flip, is depen-
dent upon the number of pictures involved in the production
of each movement—too few pictures (with too great a jump
between each extension of the lines of movement pic. to pic.),
require a slow flip page to page... and too many pictures (with
too little extension of lines of movement) require fast flipping
for a move to be mentionable at all.
SCRAPBOOK ees
a ti—‘“‘COCOCsCOCSCSCSCSSV:
59

If you prefer this thumb-in-hand method of motion picture mak-

ing, take your pick, your paper-pics, and be off; but as the movable
picturing obtained by this method is not easily projectionable, I’m
returning my considerations to the strip of celluloid and moving
picture machinery.

(1)
The flippist part, of the above mentioned process (in the moving
picture projector, and in some viewers) is called: the shutter. It is (in
most projectors) a thin piece of metal cut approximately to a half-
circle (cut so it looks like a metal pie almost half-eaten). It is located
in the machine somewhere between the light source (the place where
the light from the bulb is most concentrated by a condenser lens) and
the place where the film strip passes, called the gate. The shutter
whirls around a number of times a second, allowing light to pass thru
a single frame of the strip of film in place at a rectangular window
in the gate called the shutter opening (when the cut-out, or eaten part
of the pie, is passing) and then blocking all light (when the metal,
uneaten piece, is having its revolution past the shutter opening). The
actual picture-mover is of course not a thumb but a relatedly named
instrument called: the claw. This is a movable metal part which,
when the machine is in operation, jerks out beside the top of the
shutter opening, and disappears at the bottom only to appear again
at the top to repeat the process a number of times a second. When
a film strip is loaded in the gate (that is, between the two plates of
smooth metal designed for film passage) the claw will engage with
each sprocket hole on the outside edge of the film, pull the strip down
a frame ata time, and repeat this process with regularity for the length
of the film. It essentially controls the stop-and-start movements of the
strip of film, but its actions are dependent upon two wheels, one on
each side of the gate, whose outer edges are spoked by a number of
little claws which, during revolution of the wheels, convert the con-
tinuous unrolling and rolling-up movement of the film into a stop-
start movement for precise control by the claw in the gate. These
wheels, so crucial to moving pictures, have remained essentially un-
named, but I call them: sprocket-wheels, bless them. Where you have
a continuous movement converted into a dis-continuous, stop-and-
start, movement and back again, you need two areas of slack in a strip
of film. When threading a strip of film into a projector, leave a loop
on either side of the gate, between the gate and the sprocket-wheels,
for this purpose.
60 BRAKHAGE

(2)
The timing of the flipping, flip-rhythm, is dependent upon inter-
action between the shutter, the claw, and the sprocket-wheels. The
shutter and the claw are synchronized so that the shutter is only open
when the claw is disengaged from the sprocket hole and the frame is
held perfectly still in the gate, so that the light passing thru the shutter
opening and the film frame projects only one picture, held absolutely
still, at a time, and not the movement of the strip of film. When the
shutter closes, cutting off all light, the claw engages the next sprocket-
hole and moves the film strip down one frame and disengages again
before the next revolution of the shutter allows light to pass. The
sprocket wheels, on either side of this process, keep unraveling and
rolling up the film in time to the shuffle of the claw and the whirl of
the shutter, insuring space enough of top and bottom loop for the stop-
start dance of the film thru the gate.

(3)
Flip-tempo, the speed with which a film strip passes thru the gate,
is determined by the speed of the motor controlling all synchronous
movements; and (in most projectors but only a very few kinds of
viewers) this speed can be set at either 16 frames per second, called:
stlent speed: or 24 frames per second, called: sound speed. (Some
silent projectors run only at 16 frames per second; and a few silent
projectors run at a variety of speeds which are essentially undeter-
minable—the latter being also true of most viewers, which have no
motor and are dependent upon the speed with which the film is pulled
thru by hand; but a few, very expensive, viewers are motor driven
and are both variable as to speed and also able to run at silent and
sound speeds.) The determination of proper speed is dependent upon
the film strip. For instance, if there is a great leap between each move-
ment of your in-coming wave, you will find the illusion of continuous
movement, and speed of movement, more believable if the film strip
is projected at 16 (or even less) frames per second. If you have taken
a long time, and many frames, to draw your wave in, then 24 (or even
more) frames per second may be required to speed your movement
up to believability. Naturally, this is also a question of taste, a deter-
mination of style, and ultimately an altogether individual matter
which [ leave up to you.
[(Viewers are also called editors; and, as that name implies, they
are principally used while editing film strips into a larger continuity.
As they do not project the image across much space (and are essen-
SCRAPBOOK——“(‘ewCts—“‘C‘CS

tially for identification purposes rather than show) they approximate

the motion picture effect much more simply, and less effectively, than
the projector. The film is threaded between two metal plates, the
viewer gate, but usually engages only with one sprocketed wheel, on
either side of the gate, which completely replaces the claw of the
projector. No loop is needed because the claw wheel, as I call this
viewer wheel, turns a cylinder (under a window in the viewer gate)
which contains a prism that scans the frame of the film strip (as it
continuously moves) in a way which gives each frame the appearance
of remaining still (while light is passing thru) and reflects these seem-
ing-still pictures thru a series of internal mirrors and onto a frosted
glass called: the viewing plate. Thus the film strip passes, from left
to right or vice versa, emulsion side down or up, depending on the
kind of viewer, in as straight a line as possible thru a gate and over,
or under, a clawed wheel. Motor controlled viewers, usually called:
Movieolas: thread much the same as a projector.)|
If you are more inclined to take machines for granted, and have
thus given very little attention to the foregoing, admittedly difficult,
description—I offer the following simple, push-button, instructions
to permit you to thread your film by rote, by hook or by crook, or
whatever:

(1) Place the emulsion side down, usually.

(2) Engage outer sprocket holes with the spokes of the upper
sprocket wheel.
(3) Make a small loop above the polished metal plates.
(4) Slip the film, emulsion side out, usually, between the two
polished metal plates, or into what is called the gate.
(s) Make sure your film is in position where the little claw be-
side the window on the inner gate plate will be able to engage
with your sprocket holes.
(6) Find the lever which presses the outer gate firmly against
the inner gate.
(7) Make a small loop under the gate.
(8) Thread your film around the sprocket wheel under the gate.
(9) Find the shortest route around whatever wheels are left to
get the head end of your film onto the reel for winding it up.
62 BRAKHAGE

PART TWO: ON SPLICING

Dear Gregory:
Your letter affords me the opportunity to go into some details of
film technique which might be of use to many film-makers; so I’m
making a carbon of this letter to send to The Co-Op—heaven knows I
dislike writing about technique (I mean, it is so much more exciting
to allow the lettering mind to explore imagi-nation, aesthetically
adventure, etcetera); but as many a mountain climber has perished
for lack of skill with a pick-axe, tangled himself in his own rope, and
so un-forth, many creations are still-born out of technical inadequacy.
I am not, heaven also knows, referring to any of your work; for you
have always mastered whatever techniques were needed to fulfill your
creative needs—it is because you will make good use of whatever in-
formation I send you that I am thus herein moved to detailing tech-
niques which might be of more generai use also. I have long felt there
ought to be at least a section of Film Culture devoted to exchange of
technical information between film-makers. While this might prove
dull reading for the purely audience readers of that magazine, it
oughtn’t: for I have discovered it impossible to communicate certain
aesthetic information to technically ignorant audiences, have found
it like trying to explain a pun to a child who doesn’t even know the
same sound can have several meanings, have felt audience frustration
similar to the frustration I had when forced to attend a foot-ball game
at Dartmouth and expected to cheer or groan at certain intricacies
of the game which remain obscure to me to this day because I never
learned the rules: for there is a vast area of any art where the grammar
of that art and its technique are inter-related and even synonymous
(in the sense of: to be taken for granted) ; and one of the definitions
of any medium could, and perhaps best ought, to be in terms of the
technical limitations of that medium—a great deal of wishing-washi-
ness would be drained from aesthetic criticism were such an actual
taking-measure of the medium prerequisit to any pie-eye-in-the-sky-
isms. ... I mean, at least a critic ought to carry the standards he refers
to for every put-down of a creator as heavily as if he were bearing a
very real flag in a windstorm.
I encounter very few problems inter-cutting color and black &
white. I always shoot, and (as I too edit original film) use in editing,
reversal film—unless I want a negative image as the final screen image
... and/or unless I might happen to be shooting color negative to be
making positive prints therefrom. I assume what’s worrying you is
Sos- 6
whether or not color & black & white film bases will splice together ;
and I would like to pass along certain splicing tips I learned the hard-
way (and hope you'll reciprocate). To begin with I always use
double-perf film, if possible, in photographing. This always permits
a four-fold use of any strip in relation to any other strip in editing for
greater flexible handling of any (particularly abstract) image in
movement, albeit the two uses of that strip of film (that is: when
turned over or base-up, as its called) will soften the image slightly in
printing (as the focusing devise in the printer is set on assumption
that the emulsion side of the film is consistent throughout). Many
times, in editing, then I’m forced to make a base-to-base splice—this
is actually, if well made, a stronger splice than the regular emulsion-
to-base splice. Now, as you know, in the usual splice the emulsion is
scraped off one of the over-lapping bits of film to be spliced because
the cement will not weld any but base material; so, theoretically, one
wouldn’t have to scrape in a base-to-base splice at all; but I find it
advisable always to “rough-up” the base side to be spliced, even in
regular splicing. In emulsion-to-base splicing I put a small dab of
cement on the base piece and immediately wipe it off, then lay down
cement on the scraped emulsion side and weld the two. In a base-to-
base splice I scrape one of the bases just the same, with perhaps less
scraping, as if it were emulsion—then proceed as usual with the other
base side. I arrived at this procedure out of the necessity of splicing
many different kinds of film—for instance, certain different kinds of
black & white film go together very difficultly and there is a bluish
base B&W film which won’t splice well at a// unless its base is ‘“‘rough-
ened-up” with either cement or scraping. For these reasons I am also
drawn to use scrapers which roughen film unevenly while scraping—
find a fine grain strip of emery-paper (not board or cloth) best in this
respect. Base-to-base splices also leave an often noticeable bar of dark
across one of the images (of double emulsion, so I often turn the film
over after splicing and meticulously scrape off the emulsion of the
intruding picture. This brings up the problem of the noticeability
of the splice in 16 (&8) mm. The commercially professional way to
make the splice invisible is the one I’d guess you usually use, that is:
“A & Bing” as it’s called where two synchronous rolls of film are
created with black leader always on one roll & picture on the other,
splice always tucked under black leader, pictures over-lapping only
where a dissolve from one to another is wanted or where the two are
to be superimposed .. . but I have found this method altogether too
distracting while creatively editing original and, of late, I usually
Ae
“0
have multiple superimpositions going on AB, ABC, and even (in
Part 4: Dog Star Man) ABCD rolls with no room left on the syn-
chronizer for splice-hiding rolls even if I wanted it. During Part I
of Dog Star Man I became particularly concerned that the splice
SHOULD show (as a kind of aesthetic counterpoint to the plastic
splicing and the fade-out-fade-in, etc... . The Splice, that black bar
breaking two kinds of white, operating aesthetically as a kind of kick-
back, or kick spectator out of escapist wrap-up, or reminder ((as are
flares, scratches, etc. in my films)) of the artifice, the art, et set-TO)
and I became very invloved in the splice-bars as operative visual
cramps upon, for instance, the baby’s face in Part 2 of Dog Star Man
...and you can imagine (apropo my comments on page one of this
letter) my difficulty in explaining how splice-bars compress that face
and then break-up into the hand-drawn lines struggling for verticals
to an audience which, for the most part, doesn’t SEE splices, even in
a white field, or have the vaguest notion how individual moving pic-
tures are put together. Of course, aesthetic involvement WITH the
splice does increase the need to be able to hide the splice when it isn’t
wanted (as it mostly isn’t in Part 4); and the best technique, aside
from A&B rolling, for that is the use of splicing tape, so that the cut
can be hid exactly between frames; BUT, to the sensitive eye, the
splicing tape lays down a wavery pattern particularly noticeable on
white fields where there is usually the most concern for hiding the
splice. Kenneth Anger told me he used this transparent tape exclu-
sively on Scorpio Rising and that, by pre-arrangement with the labo-
ratory, he only had to use it on the emulsion side, thus decreasing tape-
glue image by half. Next best for hidding splices is The Negative
Splicer (so named because it’s used almost exclusively when splicing
negative film because all splices thereon will turn out very noticeable
white bars when positive print is made) and this makes a very much
narrower splice but one which also requires much more care & ability
for it to hold in printing. Every time I go to make a splice regularly I
decide which of the two joining frames will carry the splice bar. If I
want to semi-hide it, I'l] usually choose the darkest and/or most com-
plex image; but very often a lighter but more rapidly moving image
will hide the bar better and/or an image mainly composed of horizon-
tals, etc., etc., etc. Sometimes, for instance, I choose to leave the double-
emulsion bar in a base-to-base splice because it cuts off part of the
preceeding image and makes a plastic flow into the following image,
etc., etc., etc. Sometimes in cutting B&W to color the partial super-
imposition of over-lapping emulsions creates a one-frame transition
 ss—“‘COCS
BGRAEDOOK@ eee

of aesthetic smoothness, etcetera . . . and, in other words, all these

etceteras stand for one whale of an aesthetic involvement in The
Splice. Even splicing cement doesn’t just mean to me “that which
holds two pieces of film together”—I know it’s a dissolvent which
welds film and this knowledge has led to its use in chemical treatment
of film—that is, I’ve dissolved images, “painted” with it, mixed it
with paints and clorox and salt and lacquers, etceteras. I found, for
instance, that the glue of splicing tape crystalizes into certain recur-
ring patterns when heated (with an iron) to certain temperatures
(which I can only specify to the extent of “low” “medium” and “hot”
on the average iron as corresponding respectively to “large, overlap-
ping 16mm frame in most cases, unwieldy aggragates with large
center & fine snow-crystal points,” “clusters attached to eachother,”
and ‘“‘even textured small crystals in a field.” Mothlight was made
without recourse to heating; but Dog Star Man Part 2 involves the
packing of material (even mica, which raised temperatures and scat-
tered crystals like explosive material from it) & punched-out pieces
of film packed between a very thin clear leader & splicing tape, all
packed also with chemicals, Elmer’s Glue, Nu-Skin, etc., depending
on the piece, and (in most cases) heated with an iron welding all into
a pre-determined crystalline pattern. (It should be mentioned, for the
record here, that I had no less trouble getting Part 2 printed than I
did with Mothlight. Mothlight original, packed between splicing
tape, was too flexible for the printer. Part 2, using thinnest leader
available & tape, was too INflexible ... part of this problem being
mica shavings & the stiffness created by crystallized glues. There is
also one hell of a problem getting splicing tape to lay down evenly
onto clear leader, a less-flexible material, for any length—I’m next
going to try exclusively filmy glues (like Nu-Skin) and cut up the
splicing tape every foot or so, that the sprocket holes can be realigned
at center of every second-and-a-half of film. Well, I see I’ve diverged
a bit from The Splice; but I sense it’s a divergence which may save
you some time and repeated effort—as P. Adams told me you might
be using film collage techniques in your J/liac Passion .. . and
PLEASE send me any information you gain from working with
these techniques—names of glues, for instance, would probably be
worth thousands of words of aesthetics to me.
Now I sense the desire to close off this letter and hedge on the major
question of yours because I cannot offer much encouragement regard-
ing your current felt-needs of two-size screen simultaneity in pro-
jecting The Illiac Passion; AND YET I DON’T WANT TO DIS-
6 ESRAKIAGE
COURAGE YOU FROM ATTEMPTING ANYTHING, no
matter how impossible-seeming, WHICH MIGHT PERMIT
YOUR MUSES TO SHOW US ALL SOMETHING NEM, even
if utterly other than what you think you want to be showing. So then,
the following is simply to give you an idea what you’re up against.
For the rest: FOLLOW YOUR A MUSE MEANTS... okay? As
you already know, unless you can get your entire vision onto one strip
of film (no matter how many separate and separately framed images
thereon) you run into almost impossible problems of distribution, ete.
I think you’re right to feel that THIS shouldn't stop you if your
feeling of necessity urges you into a technically difficult area, par-
ticularly if the technical difficulties are only reflections of fulfillable
lacks in distribution (after all, you and I made films for years when
there wasn’t really anyone to distribute or much of any audience to
distribute TO)—-BUT there are limits to this consideration .. . If I
make a collage film which can’t be printed or projected at all, then
it is, after all, more of a necklace or wall decoration than a film.
Kenneth Anger’s Inauguration Of The Pleasure Dome was finally
edited into a Tryptich version (one large center screen, two small
screens winging either side) requiring 3 synchronized projectors (and
3 screens) for screening. I worked constantly with Kenneth for a
couple days in Brussels in 1958 attempting to bring this Tryptich
screening off. All projectors came out of sync during all rehearsals
& the public screening. Finally 3, out of the 7 judges, agreed to give
up their lunch hour one day for a final try—which succeeded. There
were about 15 people who saw this performance. These are the only
fifteen, to my knowledge, who have ever seen the completed version
of Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome. The experience was so in-
credibly beautiful that I would never for a moment consider the single
track as more than a teaser of the total experience—-NO MATTER
WHAT THE PROJECTION PROBLEMS OF THE LATTER
all of which I’m very, painfully, aware of from the experience. . .
Okayr At Brussels, 1958, there was also a 7-synchronized- projection
(involving 7 differently shaped screens) as a semi-constant attraction
in The Polish (I believe?) Pavilion. The film they showed was a
so-so travelogue; but the technique was fascinating—for instance, a
dancer would leap from one screen, cross another, and land on a third
while four others were flashing scenes of audience, other danetes
Se aa etna there being a real attempt to keep sense of integrality.
enneth and I were particularly intrigued to find out how it all
worked ; and we were not too surprised to find an electronic computer
SCRAPBOOK 67

was operating all 7 projectors on a stop-start basis, a vast room of

equipment constantly supervised by several german-types rushing
from one computer component to another and cursing constantly,
apologizing for everything being “out-of-sync.” My point is that
synchronism (which is here synonymous with aesthetic perfection)
is dependent upon getting the experience onto one track, one strip of
film, WHICH COULD ACTUALLY HAVE BEEN DONE, by
either Kenneth or The Polish Govt., BY PHOTOGRAPHING
ALL IMAGES THRU MASKS IN THE APERATURE and/
or, if money enough, BY HAVING FILM MASKED IN THE
PRINTING STAGES, using the usual superimposition techniques,
but so masked that no image ever superimposes on another. But, dear
Gregory, it doesn’t sound to me as if you could afford to so treat the
material you’ve already shot and/or re-shoot material using said
masks. I don’t know just where, from your letter, you want to put
your larger picture in relation to your smaller; but when we saw
Harry Smith’s MARVELOUS film at the Co-Op, Allen Ginsberg
told us that he, when showing the film, would project slide images
around his frame—and I remember thinking how expensive it would
be just to get this simple device transferred onto single strip of film:
it would involve shooting the slide image (masked accurate in center)
into 35 mm film, then A&Bing the two together & making a final
composit print, the expenses being in accurate masking of the external
to internal image, even tho’, in his case, it wouldn’t have to be too
accurate as all his images occur in a black field, so that the shape
of the image makes its own variable screen . . . something I’ve been
working on in Part 4: Dog Star Man by laboriously painting out, a
frame at a time, all but the image desired—and the painting can never
be perfect enough to avoid a wavering edge which, thus, I extend
into expression, viz: my masking becomes black sky breaking into
stars, multicolored patterns (closed-eye visions) and scratched out
shapes and objects (re-call visions). There is a masking tape you
could block out some areas of your frames with; but you could never
lay it down carefully enough to avoid a wavering line which would
also be constantly fluttering with the irregularities of spilled under
glue—a dynamic visual which would constantly pull the eye away
from the photographic images to its vibrant edge. No, effective mask-
ing really has to be done in the shooting stage unless you’re after effects
similar to hand-painting or unless you can afford the expenses of labo-
ratory optical effects which can only be achieved by step-printing
(frame-at-a-time printing) ... which would be the staggering ex-
68 BRAKHAGE

pense of Harry Smith’s film—because, you see, he would have to have

his central images (the only ones I saw) reduced in size to leave room
for the surrounding images on the frame, or else get some laboratory
to re-tool for one-to-one printing of 16mm image in center of 35mm
frame, then superimpose this onto 35mm shots of his slide images...
then, as you know, reduce the whole thing to 16mm for distribution.
Well, I hope all of this has been of some help to you; and I very
selfishly hope you'll reciprocate with technical information of your
own, particularly if you get involved in masking during the shooting
stages... I am very definitely being drawn into the area of multiple
imagery and image shapes within the field of the frame (have, for
instance, punched and/or cut holes in black leader and dropped
images into isolated black spaces in Part 2—a MORE laborious
activity than hand painting) and am much inspired by Harry Smith’s
work, which I hope you’ll get a chance to look at.
SCRAPBOOK 69

PART THREE: MAKING LIGHT OF NATURE OF LIGHT

“Any fool can see for himself—,” like they say... .

It is the light we share.
I had meant, since beginning “The Moving Picture Giving and
Taking Book,” to write about the taking of light, the use of it: taking
a light reading, so to speak—with a light meter, as it’s called... for
the figuring out, like they say, the where-abouts, on the movable ring
of the lens marked with “f,” the numbers of it should be placed so
that a picture may be taken. As I came to worry the subject in my
mind’s eye, came to see where I’d left off writing this book altogether
and to foresee how impossible it was becoming to write what was left
of it, I finally arrived at the thought that the book had perhaps better
be called: “The Moving Picture Giving Book:” and that I had
better let it go at that. In that light then, if you’ll pardon the pun/fun
of it, I’ve come to the beginning of wanting to make light of all of
taking—of /ight, of pictures, of others, of myself in this “take”, as an
“exposure before development” is called, this taken then of my mind’s
eye moving thru thought to language in this writing.
My first instruction, then: if you happen to have a light meter—
give it away... otherwise: give over reading this further and get on
with the game of numbers you’re playing and its absolute sets of what
is scene: for I am going on, from here, with seeing—any/everyone’s
ultimate gift to the motion picture medium.
Beg, borrow, or buy (I do not believe in stealing) a moving picture
camera with at least one lens on it (a “used” 8mm camera is perhaps
most in need of your blessings and will, thus, very likely come to you
easily in the family attic or for ten to fifteen dollars at most from a
store—but please don’t accept a magazine camera, even as more than
temporary gift, as it will cost you more money for film in the long
run... and please NO “automatic exposure” photo-machine, either
—that “seeing eye” dog of a camera). Get a roll of film, any film
that is the same millimeter as your camera. Somewhere on the box
of it, or on a paper on the inside of it, or from the store proprietor,
you will find a number coming after the letters A.S.A.: and if your
film is a “color” one you will find the information as to whether it’s
a “Daylight” or a “Tungsten.” Keep all this information in mind.
Let us suppose to start with a “black & white” film, as that is usually
less expensive. Let us even suppose, to start to begin, that you have
not yet given yourself a camera. Collect yourself a handful of tiny
objects, such as would sit neatly on a fingernail, and also an empty
ro RAR
spool and film can the size and millimeter of the full one you have in
hand, and a small or “pencil” flashlight. Find the darkest room avail-
able to you; and sit in it for awhile, some ten to fifteen minutes say,
looking all around for the light. You will find yourself, thus, fulfill-
ing the initiation rites of many religious cults: but you need not let
that worry you. Look for any light coming in under doors, thru cur-
tains, or wheresomever; and cut it off with old rag stuffing, thick coats
over windows, etc... and you need not worry about that, either, for,
as you cut off the light you’re used to, you will come to be given to see
many kinds of light you may not have known existed before.
If you begin to feel foolish in this darkened room doing these
things, please continue; but if you’ve only come to find the me-in-
your-mind as foolish for the above writing, then please stop reading
and try, rather, something on your own until you’ve managed to make
a fool of yourself—for the writing, from here on out, is specifically
for the “fool” who can “see for himself”... no other than that in mind.
When the room is dark of all light you’re used to, and before you
begin to look for more light than may come to you, open the box
and/or can of film and place it on the one side of you, with the empty
reel and its can on the other side of you. Unwind some film (a good
five feet or so). Attach the end of it to, and wind it up on, the empty
reel (a piece of tape will help). Then place both reels in their cans,
bending the film carefully over the edge of each can, so that the lids
may be put on without more than gently folding the film, without
more than a soft diagonal crease in the film, without tearing, etc.
There should be, then, several feet of film between closed cans. Place
this firmly on a flat surface (tape, again, will help) so that the sticky
side (when moistened to test it between fingers) is up. Place your tiny
objects along the length of the film. You may, of course, do this as
carefully or as haphazardly as you choose. If you choose to give your
care you will remember that each space between sprocket holes
(which you can feel with your fingernails in the dark) is an individual
picture which will when projected flash in some other darkness at a
fraction of a second—the area between and to the direct side of any
two sprocket holes in 8mm and “‘single-sprocket” 16mm, the area
within the rectangle of any four sprocket holes in ‘“double-sprocket”
16mm, the area to the side of any four sprocket holes of “single-
sprocket” 35mm or between the four on one side and four on the other
of “double-sprocket” 35mm, etc. The more you think of these things
while placing your objects on the film, even in the dark of your first
endeavor, the more you give of form, of yourself thus to form, of the
SCRAPBOOK
eee ee ee ti—(‘(‘“C;iOs*CSCS*C*C*C*C*SCSC=C=stsS
7!

medium in the eventual projection of images, as always, about to be

made.
Think of your flashlight, then, as a wand, for it is something more
magic than a flash that we want of it, something more than any simple
light, as we’re used to, use of it. We want to make a ray—a Man Ray
we'll call it, in honor of the man, so named, who first made it—di-
rected by all of the thoughts, as above, and conditioned by two pieces
of information kept in mind: the “A.S.A.” number and, if color, the
indication of “Daylight” or “Tungsten” .. . but, assuming again
“black & white” film, let us assume a number after A.S.A. A small
one, say between one and ten, will tell us that the film will take a lot
of the light we give it to make an “exposure.” A large number after
A.S.A., say any number above fifty, will tell us that the film is very
sensitive, so to speak, to light and will over-expose, as they call it, with
the slightest bit of our illumination. Let us assume, to start then, an
A. S. A. 5—the American Standard Association’s average exposure
rating for most motion picture “‘sound stock” film... this low rating
will permit us a great deal more play of/and/with light in our giving
exposure to the film. We can possibly even use the pencil flashlight
to write directly upon the strip of film, if we write quickly and if the
point of light of it is sharp enough, focused enough. As we move our
wand away from the film, its beam spreads till, finally, evenly over
the whole length of the strip, its exposure interfered with only by the
objects we’ve placed on it and their shadows. As we think of its beam
as a ray, we may come to direct it elsewhere and only indirectly light
the film; and as we come to think of the ray as a Man Ray each one
can then, honoring tradition, become aware of what’s undone and,
being that self each is, direct the particular ray in hand, wave that
wand wheresomever, as is most wanted, around whatever particular
room in relation to the strip of film, writing directly upon it in one
place and never permitting the light to shine other than indirectly
upon it in another, creating a dance‘of the shadows of the objects
placed upon it, throwing shadows of objects in the room across it,
etcetera... . BUT, whatever each chooses to do with this instant, we
ALL share in this: the light can only illuminate that room for a very
few seconds for the film’s exposure, film’s take, as it were. Even with
an A.S.A. of 5, I would guess that more than two or three seconds of
direct light, from however small and dim a flash wand, would expose
the film to the extent that, when developed, it would be clear leader
(if reversal film) or black leader (if negative film) as defined at the
beginning of this book: and we would thus—for we all do share the
AAG
nm
light, share thus the conditions of time of light in relation to film—
be back where we started from, with no trace upon the film, no sign
or record even, of the magic each was making in the room of his or
her most individual dark. The higher the A.S.A. number of the film,
the further must the wand be kept from the strip and/or the quicker
the speed of illumination. But if all has gone well, each will have
(when the film is developed) what is called “A Rayogram” for mov-
ing picture projection. But before developing, I would suggest that
the process, as described above, be repeated for the entire length of
the roll of film, each exposed strip being taken up into the can on the
one side as the unexposed strips are unraveled from the other. As
should be obvious, the whole length of film need not, indeed should
not, be done all at once. Other than tiny objects may be placed upon
the film, as say cloth for texture shadows, glass for refraction pat-
terns, etc. And, assuming your film is color, various colored glasses or
filters may be placed upon the strip, the point of the wand, or around
the room, even, for a play of hues. If the film is a “Daylight” one, all
whatever-colors will transform on film to completely other-colors,
because the film was exposed to flash wand rather than the sun wand
intended—generally speaking, there will be more yellow in every-
thing (unless it overexposes) because the flashlight will not be passing
thru the blue of the sky as the sun’s light does before exposing film
...and you can, thus, put a “sky” in front of your wand in the form
of a bluish filter taped onto your flashlight to render more approxi-
mate colors with “Daylight” film. If your film is marked “Tungsten,”
you'll know that word refers to the filiments of your flashbulb or
electric-light-other and that the “sky” or blue of it has been put al-
ready into the film itself by the manufacturer, so that without your
adding a filter the colors will be rendered more approximately—tho’,
in truth, they will still be transformed utterly into colors other than
those of the objects placed upon the film, or between the light and the
film, etc.: and I would hope you have the good sense to be aware of
these differences when the film is developed, bless you.
Now if all the above does seem an end in itself, have patience for
I, too, am tired of these mechanical limitations, would have us share
more mysteriously in the light, am about to fool with the camera
(rather than professionally fool it) and, for the sake of illumination,
become the fool of the camera and all its means (being amateur—
lover...at heart). But if the above be beginning for you, quit read-
ing and get on with it... joy to you!
Now, a camera can be thought of as a small closet (box) into which
SCRAPB
ie ees OOK Se ee ee 73
t—‘“COSOOC—sSB

the film may be put (with pegs to hang the full and empty spools
upon and a gate, much like the projector’s described earlier, to thread
the film thru) which has a wand-like light focuser (lens) screwed
into it so that whatever external illumination which is “gathered,” as
it’s called, by the wand can be focused into an image on the surface
of the film, can be, thus, recorded by the light-sensitive grains of the
emulsion of the film so as to be developed, later, into a picture which
is projectionable. The motor of the camera simply conditions the
movement of the film in relation to the shutter (the same as in the
projector except that, in camera case, the film is always stilled for the
ingathering of light, at shutter’s opening, rather than for the projec-
tion thereof thru the film). When we hold the camera, therefore, we
have the whole closet as well as wand in hand, stand IN the light and
condition whatever of it and of images of objects reflecting that light
we wish to affect the surface of the film. The motors of most cameras
will permit us to flash light onto the strip of film at a variety of speeds
by pre-setting a dial on the outside of the box which conditions and
indicates how fast the film is moving thru the gate (usually marked:
“8-12-16-24-32-48-64,” etc—meaning: “8 frames per second-12
frames per second,” etc. because the speed with which the shutter
opens and closes is conditioned by the number of times the film is
stopped-and-started-etc. each second. We can also control the dim-
ness and brightness of these flashes of light by setting the ring marked
‘“f stops” around the lens itself (typically marked: “f 1.5-2-2.8-4-
5.6-8-11-16-22”’—meaning, for all intents and purposes, that when the
lens is set at its lowest number, say “‘f 1.5,” its iris, as it’s called is wide
open, like an eye in the dark, that at “f 2” it is a little bit closed, per-
mitting less light, that at “f 11” it’s about half closed and that at “‘f
22” it’s almost closed, like the iris of an eye looking straight into the
sun or at sun’s direct reflection on a beach or bright snow scene) be-
cause, for our intents and purposes the “‘f stops” are like distances we
keep between the flash light and the film according to the A.S.A. of
it. If the A.S.A. is a low number, such as A.S.A. 5, then we can set
our lens at a low “f,” say “f 1.5,” on a bright day even and still get an
image upon it. If it is a high number A.S.A., such as “A.S.A. 120),
closing our lens to “f 22” may not suffice under the same circumstances
to make other than white or black leader: but then these ‘“‘circum-
stances” also depend, for picture, upon the speed of the film and, thus,
shutter, and of course upon whether one is under the sun of this bright
day or in the shade of it, in a house, etc. These many circumstances
cause most photographers to use a light meter to determine their ex-
ne
4
posure, the setting of the “f stop” ring, etc.: but I suggest you play
the fool, along with me, fool around in the light with your camera,
be the fool of both (fool neither) and come along on an adventure, the
nature of which is the nature of light itself.
First we must deal with the light of Nature, then with Nature of
Light. And set your science aside, please, as we’ve no more use for
it than what is of it as embodied in the camera in hand—an ordinarily
closed system (as any machine) for taking pictures ... which I am
about to cause to flower (as my usual) wide openly in a gift of in-and-
out-sight to the means of it. The camera will try to give back simply
taken pictures (as that’s what it’s made for) but in the exchanges
between us (myself and machine) there'll be, if I’m lucky as usual
(and for you too if you’re able as anyone) a made thing (an un-pic’ed
image) which gives as much as it takes, an i/lumination (made as
much of as with light) which should be a joy to see. I might, as I
often have before, make a discovery (called “‘creation” most usually) :
and you, too, might, if you can but give your eyes to the medium (as
any maker finally must) as a gift beyond any desire, to see or other,
any re-quest, etc. ‘‘We shall see” refers to conditions, such as tech-
nical limitations, which we share, as we share the light. “I see” is an
unconditional surrender to the light for a fool’s vision. When giving
sight to the medium, “with, not through, the eye” (William Blake*),
with, rather than thru, machine, with any means at your bestowal
(rather than disposal), with the light, and naturally then OF all these
things also as in any gift, the term “moving picture giving” takes on
a blessed (and necessary to me) dimension, viz.:
If you will, but listen (give your attention) to the camera motor
(as you press its button—never, please, at speeds higher than 32
frames per second when there’s no film in it, as that will often snap
its spring) and you will hear some semblance of the speeds of film’s
run thru it... if you will, then, think of yourself as collector of light,
thru wand of lens, for gift to film, you can then come to know your-

*For when William Blake writes:

“We are led to believe a lie

When we see with not through the eye,”
he proclaims his possibilities as a great “still” photographer and, as
such, of extreme opposite inclination from a moving picture maker.
SCRAPBOOKS
self as conditioner of the light entering the magic box you hold in
your hand—that you can slow or speed up the flashes of it, on the film’s
surface, by changing motor speed—that you can collect the most of
the light you stand in by turning the “f” ring to its lowest number,
opening the iris of the lens widest, and/or can limit the power of the
sun itself with each ‘stop down,” as it’s called, to the highest number.
And if you can, then, but give yourself to the light around you (keep-
ing sense of the above conditions on circumstances) till you are at-
tracted to one area or another of the direct or reflected light (taking
a stance in relation to your surroundings), you will be able, by a point-
ing of lens and a turning of its rings, to give some of your inner illu-
mination to the surface of that film (give the song of your sensing,
what you’ve seen AND thought of it, to the film’s heard movement
in the camera), viz-a-viz:
If you want the light you’re sensing to take shape upon the surface
of the film, to etch itself there in sharp lines of the edges of its reflect-
ing forms, you will guess at the distance from the film’s surface to
the most of the objects within the rectangular space of your looking
(thru the “viewfinder”) and will set the numbers of the “foot” ring
of your lens (usually numbered from “‘r ft.” to ‘‘~,” a symbol stand-
ing presumptuously for “infinity” ) accordingly; whereas, if you want
the light to affect the film’s face more.impressionistically, you can
“soften the focus,” like they say; and, therefore, if you want light’s
tones unenclosed in shapes, you can set close object’s image in “‘in-
finity” or obliterate landshapes and distant forms with a “1 ft.” setting.
Wherever you would interfere with the light, take account of shadows
as exactly as if they were objects placed upon the film emulsion in a
darkened room, as if a setting of the lens to the exact distance of the
shadow were a placing of the object flat upon film surface, etc. A
breath upon the lens will often add the Western eyes’ed sense of halo,
or the mystic’s aura, or a whole fog even. A drop of water, or some
similar refractor placed before the lens, will split the beams of any
direct light into the very lines tunneling out of it which must, once,
have given Western man the idea that the sun was in harness, or
reigned, and then caused him to later create a way of seeing called
‘Rennaissance perspective” we take too much for granted; and a soft
focussing of these lines will spread these lines to rays, as clouds or dust
storms often scatter sun. And many things may be put before the lens
to simulate something of mind’s eye, thought’s light, on film—if you
use a “Tungsten” film in the daylight, for instance, an orangish filter
will render the colors what we call “truer,” just as a blue filter is used
toEEE RBRAKBAGE
with “Daylight” film to put some sky into electrical illumination, etc.
... but all of these conditionings I’ve written above are a hatch of
hindsight, a taking of light for some use or other—not much more of
a gift to the medium than the taking of a picture. Not being a poet,
I cannot write much other than ‘“‘about,” write out of some past en-
deavor, whereas a gift is always a present, so to speak . . . it will take
some very creative you in the gift of reading this to make this writing
more than a take. Permit me to illustrate, become the reader myself
of the below, now, blank of page in seeing search of nature of light,
viz-ability:
“blank” (as all words) interfering with my read of the texture of
the paper, the shadow blackened creases and spots impressed on the
white field of it— “white” coming to mind to block any seeing of the
yellow of the lamplight upon it, reflecting from off it, and as if lying
heavily across the whole surface of it—“yellow” blanketing the
mind’s eye as if to cover up the sense of the blue, as it’s collected in
each shadow, like pools with deep purple centers, or flaring palely
blue over the whole surface and almost flickering at page top nearest
my window in instreaming daylight—‘blue” (as “purple” and
“black” and all earlier color words) finally giving way to eye’s sight
of an other-than electric yellow whirling within blue on page and sky
out my window in some as-if struggle with blue, an eddying all thru
the air of these environs, which I follow up the margin of the page
I’m reading till blue takes shapes surrounded by yellows of skylight,
but shapes that are almost invisible under apparently shifting folds of
“Tungsten” yellow, each blue whirl taking general shape of ball with
curved comet-like tail, all shapes blackened in focus of concentration
on the page, tho’ easily seen bluishly out my window, all tailed-spheres
spiraling as if in the heat of liquid gold (these being Reich’s “Or-
gones” in, say, C. S. Lewis’s “yellow space?”)—‘Orgones” taking
away all sight-sense of the vision, “Reich’s” taking the experiencing
away from me, and “C. S. Lewis” as literary reference intellectual-
izing my seeing beyond any sense of it... thus, all within that last
parent-thesis disperses the vision, making sense of what was a sensing
(do not, please, permit me to do that to you, dear reader)—my sense
of “reader,” “dear” or otherwise, interfering utterly with my reading
of this page, blocking me in a lock of attention to the inks of its letters
... but then... but then, the type marks—they wink at me—not as
letters but, rather, as surfaces rainbowed over: and as my eyes open
to them, relax into softened focus, the prisming lines bubble open into
streams of colors infinitely varied—“infinitely” (that presumptuous
SGRARBOOK
word again) tips me off and into a searching concentration wherein
the black-born colors tend to arrange themselves as follows: oranges,
blues, greens: and, thus: oranges in curved lines or circles, with
yellow at inner or center and red at outer or perimeter; and blues in
lines graded to purple one side or the other; and greens as a weave
throughout—“throughout” checking my concentration, causing a
spread of vision across the whole page until I see similar-to black-
born prisming colors moving, according to the first tendencies ob-
served, among the comet-blue shapes and molten folds-over-folds of
electric-yellow and in shadow pools, concentrations of prism-blues
tending to impress upon me large (several inch once) always elon-
gated shapes, ingatherings of prism-oranges always forming circu-
larly, and green weaves shaping fields of their predominance always
as irregularly curled as vines —three underlined ‘“‘always”es demon-
strate to me that I’m about to make a science and/or a religion of this
endeavor, damnit, about to really try to convince someone else (some
“dear reader” of the imagination) of my own eye’s sightings, make
sights of them in sets of laws and dogmas to convict all other (in a
“damn your eyes,” as the saying goes)—forgive me... I tire, viz:
... goodbye again, dear reader—I’m off to work: to try to gather
light this particularly, even if (as in the past) I can finally only paint
some approximation of these miniscule occurances upon the film’s
developed surface . . . for film is never hypoed by the lab, “fixed” as
it’s called, beyond a maker’s giving—his adding to it, thru paints and
chemicals and superimpositions in editing, his senses of the light as
seen—until that maker himself becomes too long exposed to the light
of any particular piece of film and, thus, ceases to see it any longer
... then, and then only, might a work be called “finished.” As I’ve
ceased to read myself herein, then, and have other livelier things to
do, permit me to make (not “the” but)
an end.
78 BRAKHAGE

EIGHT LETTERS TO GUY DAVENPORT

Early April, 1966 and Diversions’’) rather than that
there was any attempt to evoke
To Guy Davenport,
image thru sound. His impulse
The winds feint with bitty puffs inspired music cross-pollenates
of snow against my window, as if perfectly with the master twelve-
the sky were half-heartedly throw- tonists—Berg / Schoenberg / We-
ing confetti. “Cheep Donkey”’ is bern—along with elements of re-
singing wildly in the kitchen— call/collage techniques (which
he’s as inspired as I am these days must surely come out of Ives) in
by a whole new (to us) order to the sensibilities of this great man
great musical experience come Messiaen and flowers, thru him,
our way*—the music of Messiaen into a whole new (yet firmly tradi-
and his disciples (or former stu- tionally rooted) order of music:
dents): Boulez, Barraque, Pous- and this music, directly inspired
seur, Stockhausen . . . actually, by vision—and most specifically
Boulez and Stockhausen were by the movements in and of vision
quite well known to me; but (imagistic movement AND im-
somehow even their music has ages moving the mind)—does na-
come into new earshape since I’ve turally come closest to my work-
discovered the grand old master ing orders these days. . . for years
and source of this impulse: Mes- I’ve been increasingly inspired by
siaen, surely one of the VERY music in my, particularly, editing
greatest living composers. The processes: now I’ve worked thru
music of Debussy, Ravel, Satie, to proximity of music and vision
etc., was reaching toward image, at brain-wave source (know
the evocation of visuals thru “sphere” and “music of the
sound—I should say SOME of spheres” to to be skull) and am
their music was, for this was only now close to knowing the exact
a small area of concern albeit one difference of the music of each. It
which could be written about and,
thus, receive much critical atten- *That bird teaches me more
tion . . . anyway, Satie came the about music than any person (in-
closest in this direction because cluding, as you know, Varese/
he always kept his eye on the pic- Cage / Subotnick / Tenney / etc.)
ture and his ear planted firmly in I've ever known—you should
the orders of music: thus the HEAR him accommodate, for in-
hearable impulse engendered by stance, an electronic piece by
image shaped the music (I’m Stockhausen or one of Ives’, etc.,
thinking particularly of “Sports in his musical orders.
SCRAPBOOK 79

is a very exciting time—for in- intimations of same from friends

stance: the other night I was work- all over the country these days are
ing away at Scenes From Under tending to confirm my belief that
Childhood in the late & early people of like nature in a given
hours and forced to listen to the culture are on SOME kind of
dogs barking continually, and telepathic line . . . it is the war
with particularly regular insist- that finally gets us down, each
ence, as they chased what we’re via his and her personal daily
pretty sure was a mountain lon demons: but it is the war, all the
(as he had been seen earlier in the same, all the same as it’s always
evening not more than 50 feet been in a culture fighting a war
from our house) all over the when/wheresoever—all of senti-
neighborhood: and the rhythm of ent living gets crimped in the
that bark came to seem directly backwash, all of sensibility tor-
appropriate to my working orders tured ... it is as if some spirit force
of that moment and definitely we do not consciously recognize,
evocative of something in art but do very much depend upon,
which I desperately needed sense began to flicker, rather than burn
of to arrive at some exact clear steadily, in the wind of war’s
comprehension: and then, sud- thought, to smoke-over the mind
denly, I had my key—it was a par- of even the most innocent—and
ticular section of Kurt Schwitters’ are any of us really innocent?—in
sound poem which goes some- a war breathing culture . . . I re-
thing like this: “Fums Be-ve . member this sense of it well from
Fums Be-ve-te ... Fums ... Fums Korean War days when, like now,
Be-ve-te-ta-oo . .. Fums Be-ve-te- creativity came in desperate bursts
ta-oo Pa-giff!’’, etc.: which source of such consciousness needed for
unlocked a whole recall area in making rather than in waves of
me so that I could relate the some total-continuity-feeling as
rhythm to the crying patterns of a all-of-a-piece as breathing, as the
week-to-six-week old baby: and, as name “inspiration” implies, and
such, it poured as an impulse into as is usual to me and my friends
Scenes From Under Childhood in in all our creating when there is
some perfectly beautiful way. no war storm to disconnect our
sense of the sea-surge, our source
Late May, 1966 of being, in living.
I try, these days, to maintain
Dear Guy, stabile—look at rocks... and take
You DO connect here—the FULL advantage of each burst of
“pain, distractions” you write of force that can father-in vision. I
take some shape here too: and am husbandman of all I love in
80 BRAKHAGE

some more careful sense, these Come see us then, when you
days, than ever before: and I can—come soon as possible.
steer into the wind—having com- Blessings,
pleted the first section of Scenes
From Under Childhood, having
come to some clear place of dis-
continuance there, I set it aside Mid-Sept. °66
for the time being and turn to
Dear Guy,
23rd Psalm Branch, all the foot-
age in 8mm shot in Europe: and I’ve just survived the two most
I just bought a set of 8mm news- depressing / dulled / deadly pessi-
reels from 1938 to 1945 to go into mistic / “wound bore” (as Mi-
this work out of all my senses of chael McClure calls em) days in
war as a child, all memories which years—I feel, today, a very cen-
were prompted by that trip to tered quietude .. . I look back on
Europe: and I’ve just finished these 2 days with fearsome awe,
reading War & Peace, Toland’s as if looking down the receding
The Last 100 Days (of the Third mouth of a tiger shark I’d some-
Reich) and The Rise and Fall of how managed to crawl out of.
The 3rd Reich .. . and thus I eee ce

begin to weave the eye’s sword I feel in that hot-wire state

among all the discontinuities that rather regularly—it is when the
threaten my soul. wires begin to melt, when you can
And the goat grows fat and no longer be “a solid moving thru
pearl white on horse-chow and an inferno” (as McClure once de-
powdered milk: and Rosco the scribed it) that better describes
donkey trims his form to some colt being back-of-the-tiger’s-teeth, to
likeness in the spring frisk: and put it another way, or the most
Durin the dog smiles and smiles “frightening” and, thank gods!
these days as he grows sure of “rare”: BUT, I do go very much
summering: and the children in- in the sensory feed-back at nerve
herit the outsides fully and the these days. I’m so much involved
bright sun right up to bedtime; in the sensory feed-back at nerve
and they fill the air even to the ends that I do hear, in my inner
horizons with their shouts: and ear, the little bastards twanging
Jane, being with me, is all in a (or more like “tinkling”) away;
brave struggle these days to keep and I do attend their “harmoniz-
us from getting hung up on any- ing” (shifts in “tone” which must
thing less than the stars: and the be at the rate of hundreds a
stars grow brighter every day we second, if one could hear one’s
polish them with our looking. own physiological song that com-
SCRAPBOOK 8!

pletely) ; and sometimes I am Oct. Ist, 1966

hard put to turn this off (this,
which those who only heard it Dear Guy,
rarely on some few attentive occa- It is a bright, absolute blue,
sions—such as Jung, of late— hard sun, shiny day: and the last
called “‘the music of the spheres,” fragment of the children’s snow
I’m sure): But I take care to man is all that’s visibly left of yes-
control myself, my “input” in this terday’s winter at this height—
area because the inability to shut tho’ the high mountains have
this inner sound off is what finally taken on more white than will
broke down Ives and sent Varése melt easily—: but we’re probably
to “Death Valley” for 10 years to in for a month or two of Indian-
recover from breakdown—Ives ing summer.
never did recover, poor man— IlIness plagues me still these
and is probably what broke down days—a ‘cold’ turns into asthma
Schumann as well, etc. . . . and and then asthma into ‘cold’ again
I’m trying, primarily, to deal with ... each diseaseful thought infect-
the eye’s sight of it—the rapidly ing the lungs and, thus, puffing
shifting rhythms of optic nerve- itself beyond mentality’s measure
end output, the colors thereof it, and assuming a physiological pro-
their shape-making, and so forth: portion as absurd as a nightmare
and all this is integral to the form would be if it knocked upon our
23rd Psalm Branch is taking. Last daylight door . . . I think the devil
night, at bottom of funk, I tried you write of in your last letter is
to convince myself (via declama- trying the trick of rolling a veri-
tion to Jane) that I was “aban- table avalanche of translucent-
doning the damn ‘war film’ ”’; but seeming grains of sand thru each
this morning I know I’m more day’s hours to conceal from me
than ever dedicated to it, what- the one Blake writes of which
ever the mental cost, and because Satan cannot find: for all does
it is somehow absolutely necessary seem of such a beauty here, and
for soul’s sake! of such joy, that I cannot imagine
* * * why I wheeze with such neurosis
I’m listening much to Debussy in the midst of this—except that
these days, re-reading all the it be all attributable to the 23rd
Freud I know—Jane reading Psalm Branch in its making as
Henry James... and Neowyn (2 surely as were the similar sick-
years ahead of herself’s place) nesses I suffered while making
reading Crystal’s and Myrrena’s The Dead (“sim ... sic .. . esses
school books. . . suf” as sure as alliteration of
Joy to you, my asthmatic estate as I could
82 BRAKHAGE

express in language—for it has with what grace we are afforded

taken the form of a cough more amidst war’s turbulence. Jane’s
often than not, these days, as strength and wisdom, is, as always,
distinct from the long hiss and the major sustainence of the
whistle of my steamed up insides household: and the children
while making that previous medi- grow in their various ways, look-
tation on death: and I cannot ing at us often with wide marvel-
help but chuckle at the appropri- ling eyes and then again, at times,
ateness of my affliction’s express- thru slant askance.
noise, that I do ‘explode’ and spit, Blessings,
now, in accompaniment of war’s
thought, rattle-in-the-throat this
daily “song” exteriorizing mind’s
rat-tat-tat-tat-tat of martialing
Early Nov. ’66
armies’ shapes’ cluster/ thus/
rhythmically and criss-cross of I mean: Why must The Devil
each other’s continuities on the and his Watch Fiends have all
strip of film I am now editing, as that optic luck on their side?
I give meaningful form to the (Why are there “sides” in the Ist
newsreel pictures of 1938-39, place?)—Why isn’t it just the
treating the ‘movements’ and other way around? .. . I mean,
‘massings’ of those times as ex- I’m pretty good at finding that
actly as a scientist would edit the one moment (as I think you'll
microscopic images of germs to agree) and even filming there-
show-forth their germination and, thru it; but I’m getting tired of
thus, the history of a particular the whole stupid game and am
disease; but, then, too, I am edit- coming to think The West has
ing in the rhythms of remember- made some Golum of itself just
ence thereof, the most personal thru treasuring its found and/or
(which I believe, as always, to be made moments . . . its “SPRE-
the most uwuni-versal) meaning CIOUS” . . . “precious”—mo-
which thought-in-time can give ments!
to these, otherwise, ‘Opake’/
‘dirty’ pictures (believing that the
very rhythm with which they Mid-Nov. ’66
burn in the mind’s eye, being
Dear Guy,
‘fuel’ of the optic nerves’ ‘firing’
in the act of remembering, will Well—the more I work along
reveal their true substance clearly a line of film called 23rd Psalm
if attended carefully). Branch—the more studying I do
And, thus, . . . we go on, here, of the 2nd World War . . . dozens
SCRAPBOOK 83

of books now—the more con- well) —and the trick in terms of

vinced I become that we/(U.S.) choice-of-words is simply to lace
live now in a closed dictatorship all speech language heavily with
in all respects— in/and/to-depth those syllables which depend pri-
similar to Hitler’s Germany and marily upon the roof of the mouth
all previous and subsequent fo- for pronunciation, excluding all
cuses of power to some centrality the outgoing sounds possible: and
. . even tho’ we do obviously in- the trick phraseologically is to
habit a culture that is superfi- rely on the cliché as much as pos-
cially/ (surface-wise) completely sible because it sounds natural
different from any such. It is when mumbled inwardly (as if
visually apparent in that the to be taken-for-granted—which
crowds shape up to that similar- is, of course, also its psychological
ity (whether in opposition-to or advantage) and also, simply, need
agreement-with the government) : not be pronounced outwardly as
and it is audially apparent in that it is so well known that its mean-
the tone of speeches does suck-in ing will be heard even when very
the eyes and ears of the world by inarticulately pronounced
phonetic implication—for instance, anyway, these are some of the
both Hitler’s and Mussolini’s means whereby politicians cre-
rhetorical success was largely due ate speeches that primarily suck
to the fact that their speech pat- up sensibility (“‘Romans-country-
terns revolved in the back of the men, lend me your ears” is an ex-
throat (Mussolini had a language cellent example—‘Romans” is a
edge, in that Italian lends itself very outgoing word, and very
to this proclivity via the peculiar deceptive, thus, in the context,
nature of its roll of 7’s... a phon/ because it is obliterated by its
phenomena that takes its similar immediately following synonym
course thru o’s in German, tho’ to “countrymen,” all syllables of
a lesser extent: but Hitler more which are thrown against the roof
than made up for this by a gutter- of the mouth . . . “Romans” is
alness which was so pronounced thus the tossing out of the net and
one would have called it a “countrymen,” with its syllabic
speech defect in any but rhetori- edge, is the drawing in of that net
cal circumstances—Johnson’s ac- of national identification . . . and
complishment of this in Ameri- the, of course, “lend me your
canese is no small feat: and his ears’ is a masterpiece of a lapping
sacrifice is visibly apparent in the back and forth of syllables in the
whole decayed aspect of the lower mouth—“me” being the only
half of his face . . . and perhaps word which isn’t pronounced with
in his recent throat sickness as the tongue as an absolute guard
84 BRAKHAGE

against the escape of anything snaps of him published in the

from roof and tongue tops). August ’66 (#33) issue of Der
Hitler’s (and Mussolini’s) ges- Spiegel.
tures were, as Bertold Brecht dem- Ah well—I could go on and on
onstrated beautifully for me in the (write a book even) in this vein
East German (his direction) pro- (or in this “vanity,” I might say—
duction of “The Resistable Rise of vanity of disclosure of the top
Arturo Ui,” straight out of 19th secret of the age... “secret” only
century melodramatic stage-style in the sense that no one writes or
—the Nazi salute a direct exten- speaks of the American dictator-
sion of standard “discovery” ges- ship, not even in the “whispers”
ture (all salutes, interestingly we can credit most Germans with
enough, partake of this idea—the . . not “secret” in the sense that
flat-hand-to-forehead being only people don’t know what’s going
a tilt from the shade-of-eye ges- on—why one need only point out
ture for looking into distances, that the acknowledged restriction
such as Keaton played upon nat- on our “freedom of press” does
urally with his dead-pan additive absolutely mark our government
to the gesture in, say, The Gen- “despotic” ((and I quote)) in
eral): and Mussolini was, of the exact terminology our “Bill
course, shadow-boxing with his of Rights” uses to recognize such
closed-fist gestures with a perfec- suppression and presumably for-
tion of acting that would have bid it ((or am I quoting the hon-
immediately marked him as the orable Gov. of Virginia, or was it
hero of even an American silent- Mason’s wording—TI must re-read
era serial . . . tho’ he lacked the “The Bill of Rights” now that it
“humility” of the American arche- has become a purely aesthetic
type hero—a quality Hitler ac- document and see how it stands—
complished beautifully during his in that light, that is: see whether
“peace” speeches and that John- it might ever be of inspiration
son is an absolute thespic master and/or whether it was “loaded
at, so consistently so that his eye- for bear” from the first) ) ).
lids have become as if perma- Well, I am bitter-sounding, am
nently weighted and his eyeballs I not? ... but then, I was never
sunken thereto some now physio- raised to live thru a reign of
logical downcast attitude .. . and Caesars; and I must learn how to
it 7s a real terror when the mask survive in this time from scratch
of a man has closed over his eyes —and I am not able (like most of
—the only pictures of Hitler I’ve my fellow Americans) to scratch
ever seen to have “eye-holes” are my eyes’ sense out of my consid-
some recently discovered 1925 erations to accomplish my sur-
SCRAPBOOK 85

vival in some play of innocence or of deepest aesthetics will stand

some-such: I must, apparently, against the wreckage inflicted by
look upon the horror and then the West’s death-throes . . . and
devise some dance with it, like that only by withholding energies
“the side-step”—must, in all prob- therefrom that lemming-rush to
ability, learn to keep my mouth the cliff’s edge.
shut (Mark Lane convinces me
Blessings,
it’s come to that as he tabulates
the number of Dallas murders
surrounding the Kennedy assassi-
nation and then, when people call 20 Nov. 66
into the T.V. program asking
Dear Guy,
what they can do, advises “write
your congressman,” convincing I am so alone at these heights
me that he’s either a Judas sheep of my findings that I am afraid of
of this whole investigation or the distorted vision in this area—that,
biggest fool of all and/or both: perhaps, the very fact of my work-
and Hitler did, you know, employ ing on 23rd Psalm Branch does
many men to stir up trouble cause me to see as if I were living
against him whose express purpose in the Nazi Germany of the 30s,
was, of course, to collect names whose news-reel images right now
for the concentration camps to figure so largely in my editing
come). procedures: and yet, if it were
Well, I had meant to write you not for some exact correspon-
a letter more directly answering dences, I don’t believe I'd have
the last two beautiful correspon- ever been inspired (that is—found
dences of yours: but all of the it necessary) to do this film in
above did seem to just pour out the first place. As to exactitude
of me this morning (I can only of correspondence—per example:
hope some similar doesn’t pour Johnson speaks of each subject
out of me from some public lec- monotonously (as bespeaks of and
ture-platform or other in the fu- to an “all but created equal” sen-
ture: and, in that sense, the 23rd sibility) and he speaks softly (out
Psalm Branch does inform me of a tradition of “speak softly and
that any public gesture in this carry a big stick”) and he approx-
time will inevitably contribute imates facially the “strong and
one’s energies to the despotism of silent ‘American archetype’ ” (in
The Times (whether one carries the poker-player attitude and/or
a “Peace” sign or marches in a the tradition of “the Fireside
militant parade)—only acts of Chat”): these are the basic
most personal privacy and works forms of the new rhetoric and
86 BRAKHAGE

create the subtleties of tone most image sideways—that is, by tilt-

effective for the radio and T.V. ing your head sideways) . . it is
medium—T.V., really! ... (Hit- a ‘cool’ medium for looking at
ler had, after all, to make the old movies because they—and
voice stand for gesture to make most T.V. dramas which so far
the fullest use of radio: Johnson only imitate them—rely basically
only has to slightly raise his eye- on gesture, and the imbalances of
brows to powerfully alter the composition-as-gesture, to draw
entire visual field.) the audience IN for “escape,”
Yes, “the tone,” as you suggest, etc.: but the politicians—espe-
is “the message” (as McLuhan cially Johnson—have intuitively
would call it): but the visual realized the real nature of the
equivalents of “tone” (barring beast that carries their impulse;
color) are texture—meaning: and they may also—by this time
any grain-shift over the whole —be using sub-liminal flashes of
image-scan ...a shift of a thou- messages, etc. (that proven psy-
sand dots along the brow of the chological hypnotizer which be-
speaker in close-up is more mean- came a controversial issue with
ingful than the shape-shift of his the F.C.C., etc., shortly after its
whole head! The new oratory is discovery and has, since then,
primarily a matter of shifts of been suppressed as even a topic
whites into dot-pits and dot- of public conversation).
creases along a facial scape which Okay! ... well—I have to, and
does thereby powerfully invite the do easily, have some faith in the
only real participation by audi- subconscious’ ability to cope with
ences in this (as McLuhan rightly subliminal advertising: it is the
calls it) primarily “cool” medium more conventionally deceptive
—(except he, as his usual, calls taking on the forms of the new
it that and that only ... not sol, media, which troubles me more:
I say: rather, T.V. is a medium because, for instance, Johnson’s
that pulls on the spectator pri- or any other leader’s stance as
marily thru its emphasis on “great daddy” does undermine
closed-eye-vision’s grain field and each human subconscience at its
does create its imbalances ((for root under childhood: and the
spectator to shove in his psyche only possible remedy for the man-
to fill)) thru slight darkenings, ifest ills of this proclivity does
or grain-holes in the basically seem to be in the shake-up of the
grayed-over pattern AND thru, whole human social condition.
thus, rifts in the basic horizontal We're all struggling along here
make-up of this pattern . . . try, —tho’ this is by no means a happy
for instance, looking at a T.V. HMC wae
SCRAPBOOK 87

Late Dec. ’66 and UN—both ‘coming on’ in

Dear Guy, terms of alternatives . . . religion,
of the three, only occasionally
The question doesn’t seem to penetrating into itself complexly
me to be whether or not we’re enough to touch its crystal-nature
living in Germany’s 30s (as we and thus root itself in a growth
certainly are not) but whether or process—tho’, still, one of secon-
not there’s enough basic differ- dary necessity to human being, as
ence between this and that time we do not, cannot, recognize our
to trouble noticing . . . I tend to chemical existence nearly so much
think/feel that politically there is as our organic make-up) ... thus,
not—that there never has been all these ‘forms’ (which should
that much (worthy of notice) dif- really be called ‘shape-makers’ )
ference in politicing in the whole damn themselves: and, I’m
recorded history (nor that much afraid, aesthetics (at least as it is
difference in recording history— preserved —chemically fixed —)
excluding Spengler, for the nonce is part-and-parcel of this damna-
... therein him: first truly ego tion . . P’d certainly rather talk
centered ‘historian’ I’ve come thru my ass, my Bottom nature,
across) ... that politics is a static than thru the political, historical
form (both senses of the pun ‘forms’ of aesthetics: and yet I
good: that is: it is an inorganic find tears forming in my eyes as
medium composed primarily of I write this; for I have been one
chaotics/noise—Pound was being of the foremost of my generation
idealistic when he proposed so to defend and refine(d) the con-
natural an outlet as an ass-hole cept of art... I can no longer
for a politician’s language . do so—23rd Psalm Branch has
would that the form were capable shaken all my metaphors thru to
of so human a proclivity as anal- their non-roots. It is a terrible
oral transference!) —and_ that time for me, as I now go on with
history is, similarly, cookie-shaped “Part 2”—“to source”: and I
in its development as a ‘form’... come to such simple crystal clari-
neither takes root in the human ties as that the only way to end a
physiology—but, rather, each IS war is UNconditional surrender
the product of cerebral impress —some passing completely thru
and does behave in the ‘world at even ‘UN’ as is, after all, only
large’ as such . . . neither, nor re- the ‘other,’ the ‘unholy,’ the ‘un-
ligion either, grows out of creative whole,’ the UN— UN—
UN —
need—but both, rather, express ETC., alternative ... and I am
prime human rock consciousness very much afraid, these days,
as wall (between consciousness save that my body begins to de-
88 BRAKHAGE

light in the trembling such fear where, thus, I might ‘save you
engenders: and I am asking Jane time,’ is that you don’t seem to
to teach me to dance. take the newsreel images at ‘face
value,’ so to speak—I mean, [
take war, herein, as natural disas-
ter (hence my shots of floods,
Mid-Jan. °67 etc.) and the images of Hitler as
very close to those of Benes, the
Dear Guy,
kings and queens, the crowds (the
It’s alright—you’re closer to people masses actually prepare
seeing the film than you think, the way for the appearances and
viz: “I found myself watching gestures of their heroes, as well as
23rd Psalm Branch with an ut- being prepared by them) . . all
terly different feeling”... I mean, these images being retroactive
that’s it!—that those shots, “cused upon each other, etc. I don’t see
as troop training films,” as you “Then war as a superstructure
say, and on T.V.,, etc. are, in this above the people’; and I don’t
Song 23 transformed. The mili- think you can find visual source
tary wants to sicken you, vacuum- for that idea in the film... itisa
ate you, with those images—the superimposition you bring to the
government, too, to get you impli- work and must work-thru in order
cated in the guilt, etc... . where- to see 23rd Psalm Branch (and I
as the 23rd Psalm Branch is cre- don’t think ‘“‘a work of art ought
ated out of my need to restore to be effective in spite of one’s
those images, through an act of opacities —a work of art requires
memory as intensive as prayer, to a very fragile landscape in which
individual sight. You write: “I to exist . . . its strength is that
suppose I’m just not FEELING people feel the need of it strongly
enough”: but, that’s a natural enough to provide that landscape
enough reaction—for of all my —it does then illuminate what
films, this one can least afford the was only dimly known: but it can
risk of superficial feeling, or sur- no more penetrate opacities than
face emotions . . . your feeling for light can).
it will, I’m sure, come thru seeing But you know all this better
it in-depth, after many viewings, than I and did, I’m sure, but
after living with it awhile—and write these doubts because the
“I’m sure” of this because you do film engendered them in you as it
seem very much on the right track did in me and has in most people
of it except that you quest-shun first time viewing, 2nd, still, for
your own response. some and 3rd and 4th for me, for
Where you seem amiss—and instance—the fragility of the
SCRAPBOOK 89

landscape of the imagination it write you of all that’s been hap-

requires is primarily composed of pening here these last several
tume. Oh, and another thing it is weeks? I would call and talk with
a most “particular statement”— you but that I must, for money’s
in no sense to be taken as anymore sake, refrain from my telephone
“general” than 15 Song Traits as surely as an alcoholic from ‘the
... again the lifetime’s viewing of bottle’—yet how shall I justify that
newsreels, etc. pulls on you too “for money’s sake’? when Blake
much: but give 23rd Psalm says that any consideration of
Branch only a little time (3 or 4 money whatsoever destroys Art
hours as against years and years and engenders War . . . I ought
of your exposure to those same surely to make the telephone ring
shots in their guilt-engendering from one end of this country to
form) and I think Song 23 will the other: for I have such hopeful
whistle more ghosts to their proper news these days as all the Nat'l
grave than all the rest of my films Networks horse-operas and all the
together. At least, that’s how it’s Nation's newsmen cannot put to-
now inspiring me: and I was, a gether now or ever: I, Stan Brak-
year or even 2 months ago, about hage, declare that the war is over!:
to be done-in by Hamlet’s father, and with the last splices of 23rd
etcetera. Psalm Branch: Part 2 the year-
Pep and-a-half long quarrel between
I don’t know what you mean Jane and I abated, fluttered out in
by “little T.V. fellow’ unless it’s some final spits (one of which sent
these two arf y-F*3500 B.C. me toa motel in Boulder for a few
Upper Egypt figures representing days) and ended altogether dur-
a war in two movements .. . earli- ing the making of the “Coda” of
est example of double image I that work .. . let this house never-
could find—thus first “movie” more be temple of Mars on
was a war ‘film,’ a racial struggle any pretext whatsoever—at least
in which the white guy wins. Also nevermore than enough to salt the
—when I write “I can’t go on,” occasional blandness we may fall
I then do... still anm—now 30 into: but let the sweet peace reign
min. into ‘“‘Part 2—to source.”
like cat and dog cookies and
elaborate French pastries upon us
. at least as just deserts to any
mealiness we may in our sadnesses
March 31, 1967 engender.
I have held up sending you the
Dear Guy, sections of “Part 2” until it shall
Ah, what shall / how shall I be complete and with “Coda’’—
90 BRAKHAGE

now all at the labs being printed ing of it. Kelly writes: “History
... and now that the work is done (at least the range of subjects,
(and I’ve even gone on to Song 24 theses & opinions that word means
and Song 25), what do I think of at a university) is the enemy of
all this Quixote windmill I’ve cosmology, & only strife-loving
been whirled around on and warriors (Archilochos, or that
reeled up into? ... I don’t know nameless angel who shook his
more than that I can no longer at- spear & ranted thru the lips of
tend what used to be my favorite fiery Plantagenets & David's un-
kind of Hollywood movie— (the forgiving god) make song-sense of
war / paranoia / spy / para-cum- war. All art is image-fixing, & cel-
laude-hero plotter)—without be- ebrates what it ‘portrays’ whether
coming physically ill (asthma its maker wd have it so or no.”
and/or stomach cramps) and, usu- And Kenneth Anger tells me that
ally, being thus forced to leave: we should have had a shrine dedi-
and this inclination holds true for cated to Peace in our house all
noose-reels, ‘I'.V. or otheruswise, this year to balance the temple of
also: and it therefore seems to me war we had made it, for he says
that 23rd Psalm Branch has freed that artists take entirely unto
me from all the propagoosing- themselves what they are creating
and-gandering this society has out of, etcetera. For myself, I am
stuck me with since I was a child confused about all such issues ex-
and thus taken to be voodoo doll ceptas I note the very real changes
of its Nat’ stance and war-shaping in our life now that we are out of
messages. Otherwise, I don’t know it, as well as those which its mak-
of what use the work is but that ing and viewing have engendered.
it, in its final form, will free others
viewing it as it has me in the mak- Joy to you,
SCRAPBOOK 91

ON MARIE MENKEN
Marie Menken opened for me On Film or some such title). This
(1) a sculptured and very heavy was, in one sense, a very simple
filmic door (in VISUAL VARI- contribution by Marie; but in an-
ATIONS ON NOGUCHI) by other sense it led me to begin ques-
“swinging” it, (2) a garden gate tioning the entire “reality” of the
(in GLIMPSE OF A GARDEN) motion picture image as related to
by “swinging” on it, and (3) my a way, or ways, of seeing, so that
microcosmic or “inner” eye (in by the time I saw her GLIMPSE
HURRY! HURRY!) with a kind OF A GARDEN I was prepared
of lid-swinging technique. The to accept the far greater reality,
heavy door, which was at the time to the film artist, of the strip of
(about 1956) weighing very heav- film as opposed to the images it
ily on this young film-maker, was makes (under certain conditions
the influence of Hollywood in of extreme mechanization) on the
dealing with its ponderous techni- screen, So you see, in a great way
cal equipment which almost auto- Marie’s influence on my work has
matically (a well-chosen word) been more social (or even moral)
forced the most individual film- than aesthetic—that being one
makers to try to make “smooth” reason why I classify her influence
pans, dollies, etc. even tho’ they with that of Gertrude Stein (who
were economically forced to ac- continually draws me toward the
complish _ this with hand-held material of my daily living rather
equipment. We were trained, so than “‘literature’”’) and my wife.
to speak, from childhood film I say “moral” because her path
viewing that the “heavy door” to the garden led me, as distinct
with the eye in it MUST move from the experience provided by
slowly and smoothly. Marie Men- an aesthetic viewing of her work,
ken’s “Open Sesame” to me was away from being screen-centered
that VISUAL VARIATIONS ON (surrounded, in considerations,
NOGUCHI was the first film I had by auditorium audience, public-
ever seen which completely not event, publicity, fame, etc.) to
only admitted but capitalized on being film-strip-centered (or cen-
the fact that the camera was hand- tered in the “reality” of the work-
held. She was, at that time, the ing process, in isolation, even to
purest disciple of Jean Cocteau’s the extent of being just as con-
advice to young film-makers to cerned that the strips of film co-
take advantage of the freedom of here as strips, and as variably
the hand-held camera (Cocteau: moving images thru an editor, and

From a letter to Gerard Malanga; Filmwise 5-6, 1967

ve! BRAKHAGE

as even individual frames, and as clearly by realizing that I felt a

material for possibly projecting necessity to “blind” my dramatic
backwards or reversed, as I was protagonists in order to allow my
with the projector-cast image at camera eye to range expressively
24 frames per second. As to into new areas of vision... and
HURRY! HURRY!, you cannot even these were so Surrealist-bal-
imagine how difficult it was, for lasted as to be limited in scope. I
instance, for a film-maker of that remember, for a fact, that it
time to even consider images was the influence of Jean Isa-
which he couldn’t somehow jus- dore Ison (VENOM AND ETER-
tify as related to ordinary visual NITY) and Marie Menken’s NO-
perception—being, as we all, even GUCHI which gave me the cour-
unconsciously, were influenced by age to actually scratch the eyes
the first aid kit of Old Documen- off the film-base in REFLEC-
tarianism. It was, of course, not TIONS ON BLACK, an act per-
just that Marie used microscopic formed the same month I first met
footage, or even that she super- Willard and Marie and saw their
imposed it with flames, but that work. McLaren, for instance,
she employed these images in could never have so encouraged
such a strictly personalized man- me because the line, with him,
ner, charging them with her whether scratched or drawn on
own most individual psycho- film or otherwise, is a means to an
drama, that HURRY! HURRY! end, an ego-centered finality which
occurs on the screen with the his work calls forth from the
authenticity of documentation of audience. Marie’s line, whether
her inner spirit in a way far painted, scratched, animated or
more successfully than the psy- not, is as unpresumptuous as that
cho-dramas which I attempted to of a stalk growing, and fascinates
similarly document by using ac- for the same reason, because of
tual people reenacting their ex- its unpredictable formality. (It
periences expressively. I had pre- is no wonder McLaren admires
viously used many photographic her work because a McLaren feeds
devices in my work to heighten off growing processes being in-
the expression of the “reality” capable of them himself). In
around me (tho’ they were usually other words, Marie is a “natural,”
couched in dream sequences—the her world the world of openings.
influence of Surrealism—or crises (While I, too, admire her work,
such as blindness, an old favorite am grateful for the opportunity
of my dramatical films). In fact, to stroll thru her stone foundries,
you can see my dilemma most gardens, and microcosmos, I do
SCRAPBOOK 93

not [like a McLaren] shut the which have influenced my work.

door, gate, or eye-lid after me, am She made me aware that I was
not aesthetically influenced). It freer than I knew, that those
is the ideology, if you can call it chains were daisy-chains, those
that, of Marie’s working processes locks free flowing hair, ete.

MASTER WILLARD
once gave me the following recipe (I paraphrase) :

“An old beat-up magazine-load camera

With one lens
Plus scotch tape and
Magnifying glasses (bought in a dime-store),
War-surplus film (50’ spools),
Marie,
Her body,
My body,
The various parts of bodies of assorted friends,
George Barker’s body,
His poetry
And voice reading it,
Plus some Balinese music,
One hell of a lot of patience...
And love...

The result was, of course, GEOGRAPHY OF THE BODY. By now

most film cooks in the country have tried to stir up such a brew. They’ve
substituted finer technical equipment (pressure-cooker sex-pots, etcetera),
but mostly to indulge their own impatience. Most of them lacking either
a real woman, or even lively-looking friends, as well as lacking The Poet
in any sense whatsoever, have tried to substitute one hell of a lot of
selfness, mostly indulgence (the smut-pot in the closet-drama, etcetera).
Most, of course, lack love or they’d be making their own films rather
than quest shunning Will, mimicking the Maaster piece. Even those few
(and I count myself among them) who’ve been more inspired than simply
influenced by GEOGRAPHY OF THE BODY have lacked proper balance
between the last two listed, and essential, ingredients. It is love of the
Filmwise 5-6, 1967
94 BRAKHAGE

work itself which Willard implies in his “patience,” making of GEOGRA-

PHY OF THE BODY the finest cinematic approximation to living flesh
in a work of love. That sense of time, when on the make, which extends
the flesh adventure into the area of love, without which (and only at
best), comes rape of a kind, of a kindlessness, lacking even satisfactory
release. It is the brilliance of this work that it releases the spectator into
the areas of his own sensation, permitting him even to reject the film
itself altogether (something neither the Hollywood film nor the Don Juan
in any form can afford to permit), the film remaining prophetically,
crystal-clearly, within itself—a ball to dance with rather than make
something of. The sound track treks across forbidden territory, yet giving
continually that balance of assurance of the circus barker advertising
freaks—that the ears hearing, and (as implied) the eyes seeing, are
distinct from the experience of the traveloguing. The audience is taken
in, alright, but never allowed to identify. They’re also never allowed to
identify with object matter, the source material—“eye of newt, toe of
frog,” etcetera. Or, as Ben Moore once loudly put it, in the darkened
Cinema 16 Needles Trade Auditorium, during a public screening of the
film: “Don’t worry, Willllll. Nobody will recognize your balllllls.” All
material is subject, as photographed, and has been transformed by an
act of love. Cognizance is within the viewer by way of the film images
before his, or her, eyes. Even “his” and “her” towels are thrown out,
along with the babies and the bathwater. The film is certainly not sexless,
but hermaphroditic in the deepest aesthetic sense of the word.

Once, early in the month of December, Willard Maas remembered a

thing past, a German Christmas cookie not tasted since childhood; and
in a most un-Proustian way he set out to re-discover this experience by
actually baking the cookie of his mind from scratch. Batch after batch
of mixtures were tested by fire and found wanting. Odor of cookie
drifted out of the penthouse apartment and down the elevator shaft; and
anyone arriving was immediately sent to the delicatessen for additional
ingredients, while the master himself rushed from mixing bowl to oven
with each subtle variant on a cookie theme. Between bakings, Willard
was either tasting, testing each result with a mysterious enclosed sense
to all his being, an inward budding, or else talking frantically on the
phone to grocers near and far demanding exotic and, sometimes appar-
ently, non-existent spices, etcetera. Soon there was no place left to sit
down in the pent-up cookie house; and warlock Willard’s atmosphere
was all of the next-to-the-last scene of Hansel & Gretel. This drama
SCRAPBOOK,
continued into the night, and day and night (with little sleep) for three
days. Finally Willard, exhausted beyond endurance, surrendered to the
Proust-process, rolling all ideal cookie back into his mind, boxed all the
“edible” produce of his labor, labeling “with love,” and sent them as
Christmas presents to his friends. This is how Willard Maas subverted
all of what Ezra Pound calls “the cookie pusher” in art, which Willard
found within himself, to rid himself of it in his work. He exhausted it
in every conceivable debauchery of daily living so that only “wine, virtue
... (AND) ... poetry” were left to make drunk the world of his
expression ... or at least, this was his driving intent, as I saw it. Naturally,
he met, and continues to meet, with failure; and I now fear that he has
reeled up the ideal film into similar reveries and canned the “visible”
works of his labors, as always “with love” and as always “for friends”
wherever they are, and let it go at that. It has been a long time since
he has completed a film. It is a particularly German neurosis, this sense
of “perfectionism,” the I-within image which can deal death-blows to all
external realization. Does he understand that it is really the struggle, his
struggle, which inspires, spiraling often to heights of vision previously
unknown, in his work? Could he comprehend Gertrude Stein’s: “Every
masterpiece came into the world with a measure of ugliness in it. That
ugliness is the sign of the creator’s struggle to say a new thing in a new
way...” ... ? Did he even believe me when I told him, that long ago
December, that those cookies, which he was rejecting to the right and
the left of his German self-centeredness, were the best that I had ever
tasted?

Willard used, often, to say (and I paraphrase) :

“If they would round up all the Germans in the world
and herd them into a gas chamber,
I'd be glad to be the last one in—
just to be rid of the whole race once and for all... .”
b)

But in my mind’s eye, I always saw Willard standing outside that slammed
door with a mischievous child’s smile on his face.

Every year or so, Willard would give an award, verbally only, called
“The Maas Award For Neurosis Above and Beyond The Call of Duty,”
or something of that sort. I remember 4 of them, which particularly
seemed to satisfy his qualifications, as he delighted in giving these awards
over and over again:
To a Mother and her son (the boy had actually
cre
6
once been in one of Willard’s classes) who had de-
vised an extraordinary way to avoid the draft. The
mother kept her son hidden away in a covered grease
pit in her garage, in so small a space that he was not
permitted to either stand or even stretch at length.
She lowered food to him and removed his excrement
daily for a period of several years which extended
beyond the time of all danger of draft.

To a negro who had been undergoing psychoanalysis

for 3 years and who, one day, shot and killed his
psychoanalyst. When questioned by the police as to
why he had committed such a crime, he replied: “It
would take me 3 years to explain it to you.”

To a young man who put a bomb in his mother’s

suitcase, took out insurance on her in the airport,
and not only succeeded in killing her but also every-
one else on the same flight.

To the Mad Bomber of New York, who began his

notorious activities in revenge against the Con
Edison Co., and subsequently extended his anger, and
his bombs, to the city at large.

Willard always had a way of growling:

“GawwwwWwWwWwwwwwww Wwwwwwwww'd !”

which extended his rancor from the person being addressed in the given
moment of frustration to, as the tone both deepened and became more
resonant, The Creator Himself—that is, also, Willard himself, as he
found the “awe” there being created, having spat “ga” out at the source
of his annoyance . . . but then, also, always addressing the “god” in
anyone else and addressing his self-ends with an abrupt “d” turned to
a “t” almost “tut.” I have heard sounds like it in the bass parts of
Bach fugues.

“Gawwwwwwwwwwww wwwwwd” and “love” came into direct con-

tradiction in Willard’s life when men became the objects of his desire.
His “patience” was taxed to the extreme of IMAGE IN THE SNOW,
perhaps the only really traditional morality drama of the experimental
SCRAPBOOK — —“(‘ il

film movement to date. In this work, sound track contradicts pictured

image, and vice versa; the accumulation of images contradicts the image
seen, continual see-saw of visualization; and stage drama intrudes its
forms in contradiction to the image-making eye of the film artist, the
“T” of Willard struggling with his self-idealization. This is its beauty—
ugliness of that struggle . . . unresolved. Only guilt over homosexual
desire leads the protagonist to “love” of ‘“‘God’”—and only in the sense
that he can die of it... “The End” of the film. But Willard, himself,
went on living, carrying the strands of that romantically severed Gordian
knot like a net about him. I have never known him to sit thru a complete
screening of the film. He always excused himself and could be found
pacing frantically back and forth beyond the exit door waiting for the
last sounds of Ben Weber’s musical score to free him. The film itself
certainly could not. Long before he had finished filming, he knew that
it would not. Yet for five years he had spread the nets of his criss-cross
desires and followed every thread thru to inconclusion. I quote (as nearly
as memory serves me) some of his statements on the cast his characters
had taken:

THE PROTAGONIST:

““Ah, he went off and got married (the poor bastard)

in the middle of the production. A couple years
later, I had to drive him back from some New Jersey
housing development to finish the film. He was bald
in front. His face was puffy. He had a paunch.
I couldn’t really take anything but a long shot.
Gawwwwwwwwwww wwd—he had been so beautiful .. .

THE MOTHER:

“Can you imagine—Marie playing The Mother? I

couldn’t help it . . . she was so perfect in the part.
I love the way she peers out of the window, after he’s
run away, with tears streaming down her cheeks. We
rubbed onion in her eyes; and then, imagine, she
couldn’t stop crying.”

THE FAIRY GODMOTHER:

“Ahhhh—Hawwwwww ... We kept covering her with

98 BRAKHAGE

veils of white. Nothing would help. If only I'd

had the sense to cover her face. She seemed so
beautiful until it all ended up on film.”

THE BLACK DANCER:

“That dinge!”

THE DOVE:

“It flew away too quick. Couldn’t get a good shot at

it to save our lives.”

THE SNAKE:

“Couldn’t get anyone to touch the thing. I wanted to

get a close-up of it in his hand.”

THE VOICE OF THE POET:

“T love the way Ben read it. But Ill never forgive
him for one thing. You know it was his idea to say
the little prayer which he wrote for the scene at the
crypt. Something bothered me about it. Then one day
while I was teaching in my classroom, I took up Joyce’s
Portrait of the Artist As a Young Man and suddenly
realized where he’d stolen the whole idea and half
the words (you know: ‘Ding dong! The castle bell!/
Farewell, my mother,’ etcetera). Gawwwwwwwwwwd,
was IT mad, and did / let him have it!”

Thus, Ben Moore entered the scene; and Willard was almost always
mad with it and letting him have it, whatever he had of love and hate
to be giving him. And Willard worked continually at making A Portrait
of Ben as the Artist as a Young Man. And this all went on, and off and
on, longer than IMAGE IN THE SNOW. And somewhere in the midst
of all this, I met first Ben and then Willard; and each in turn, and con-
tinually, on and off, attempted to make me the object of desire which
would free each from the other. Had either one really meant such a
separation, each would have chosen someone of homosexual inclina-
tion, and certainly someone unknown to the other. Instead, I became just
SCRAPBOOKS
another one of their mutual frustrations. And this became, for awhile,
the center of Gryphon Film Productions, Headquarters in an old lower
east side loft above a dressmaking shop. The loft itself was dominated
by the most enormous bed I’ve ever seen, surrounded on three sides by
film-making equipment, the most expensive being locked in a chicken-
wire enclosure to prevent its theft by questionable pickups who might
gain entrance to the rest of the room. Most of THE MECHANICS OF
LOVE was shot within the confines of this makeshift studio. It was
Ben Moore’s and Willard Maas’ first complete “collaboration.” I quote
“collaboration,” because to me the film has always seemed more Ben’s
utilization of Willard’s idealistic conception than anything else. Maas,
the perfectionist, was certainly more intent upon making Moore, and
perfecting love, rather than upon making film at this time. When a
perfectionist gives up, he tends to give up altogether. This suspicion
was later confirmed for me when Willard related his original idea for
the film. I quote from memory:

“It was supposed to be a color film. A boy and

girl are seen making love in a forest beside a
pond. Raindrops fall in the water. Trees are seen
falling to earth... lightning .. . planes crashing
even (I wanted to use lots of newsreel footage).
Balls, on wrecking cranes, demolish whole buildings.
Birds and animals are seen fucking—elephants even.
A train enters a tunnel. There is an explosion. A
cloud uncovers a kite flying. Plants are opening
(single-frame animation). A bee is entering a flower.
All the world is fucking!”

Ben always wanted everything, that he wanted, to have been; so he was

always in a hurry. (In this sense, his and Willard’s relationship was
a remarkably perfect example of the attraction of opposites.) He wanted
it to be a studio production, photographed in a remarkably short period
of time, with the black and white film which was immediately available.
All symbols of mechanization utilized were those within easy access in
the confines of the city, most of them small household objects shot in
close-up. Ben Moore wrote the narrative sound-track. Later, when THE
MECHANICS OF LOVE was entered in a contest for educational film,
Willard added a footnote on the entry-blank:

“Especially recommended for children under six.”

—(iCSC~C“‘“‘SNCCNCCCBRAKHAGE
oo
Finally Willard gave up all thought of Ben as an artist and conceived
the idea of making The Portrait of Ben Moore As a Young Man, or:
NARCISSUS. Tho’ this was still not (to my mind) a collaboration, it
did give them a better working relationship, with The Maaster at the
helm again and Moore’s ego calmed for the act of being reflected upon.
All the same, there were continual outbursts, projection equipment once
thrown from the 3rd story window of the studio, Willard more than once
kicked down the stairs, etceteras, followed by long periods of separation.
Almost everyone known to Willard in New York was, at one time or
another, called upon to witness and help immortalize this titanic drama.
I clearly remember my contribution to the scene in which Narcissus is
beaten to death by Echo’s boys. Willard had photographed it in medium-
shots; and the effect was utterly unconvincing, despite some very real
bruises Ben had acquired from the beating. I suggested taking some
extreme close-ups, photographed at 8 frames a second to be inter-cut with
the already existing footage. I agreed to photograph these. Willard was
to supply the close-up fists pummelling various parts of Ben’s body. They
were both quite drunk at the time; and they insisted upon shooting all
this at the open edge of the penthouse roof (an 11 story building) so
that, ostensibly, only slate-gray sky would show beyond the action. Not
only did Willard strike Ben with a force too swift and strong for the
8-frames-per-second running camera, but Ben lashed back with com-
pletely un-scripted blows of his own to liven the occasion. NARCISSUS
was over four years in the making; and then Ben Moore and Willard
Maas separated for, presumably, the final time. The film had not only
completely exhausted their emotions toward each other but had also
exhausted all the techniques of the experimental psycho-dramatical film
movement. It is, at least in that sense, the masterpiece of the entire genre.
But, there is not one asthetically revitalizing element within it. It is
Willard Maas’, and Ben Moore’s, last film to date.

I had intended, as I put it, “to set the record straight” as to Marie
Menken’s contribution to all the above mentioned films: that is, that
(to my mind) Willard’s only integral and continuing collaboration was
always, and only, with Marie. But a listing of her specific contributions
(from carving soap bars into Roman Emperors; thru all her assistance
with photography and editing; to her being the body, personification and
soul of some of Willard’s imaginings) would in no sénse portray the
real nature of the collaboration. Willard and Marie’s whole relationship
is of such personal and enigmatic love that I am immediately cautioned
from continued attempt at description by a feeling akin to Robert Creeley
SCRAPBOOK 101

“I would not credit comment upon gracefully.” As to setting the record

straight, Jane, my wife, reminds me of something Creeley recently said
to her: “Only the dead are interested in credits.” “Besides,” says Jane
with a smile, “isn’t this FILMWISE issue dedicated to Willard AND
Marie?”
As I re-read all I’ve written, I see that there’s so much left out: Willard
The Poet of the ’30’s whose poetry I hardly cared enough about to under-
stand in the least, let alone the man of that time who wrote it; the Will
of social-consciousness who automatically defended almost any underdog
and just as automatically berated any personage invested with a sense of
power—the Will who arrived drunk at the C16-Stanley-Kramer evening
and, during the question-and-answer period grabbed the microphone
away from a horrified Amos Vogel to berate the pomposity of Kramer’s
speech. yelling so loudly into the microphone that his statement was
drowned in ear-splitting loudspeaker feed-back:

“KRAMER (EEEEEEEEEOWOWOWOWOW) —ucking

phoney (EEEEEEEEEEEEE), WHY (OWWWWWWWOH)
—on’t you do SOMETHING DE— (EEEEEEE) —cent (OHE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEOW) a change, (OWWW
WWWWWWWWW WWWWWWW) ... give some monEY
(EEEEEEE)
—help young FILM-makers (oooc000000
0WOW OWOW
OWOW0 WEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEKEOH )”

the socialite Willard Maas who gave the most indescribable parties in
his penthouse (a kind of ship-like structure atop a Brooklyn apartment
bldg. overlooking the river, the ocean, The Bridge, Statue-of-Liberty,
and the distant harbor of Manhattan, aerially approached, as always, by
Willard—all acquired in The Depression and tenaciously held-to), the
Willard who was host, in the most sacred sense of the word, to all guests
from richest to poorest, ranging sometimes into the hundreds and over-
flowing down the stairs and out onto the rooftops and, God-knows,
perhaps some of them over the sides, the Will, who always celebrated the
human being and who loved the human being in all celebrities, who
could crack jokes with Charles Addams, drink champagne from Marilyn
Monroe’s slipper, and hold his own with Reinhold Niebuhr, all in the
space of the same evening, the secretive “W” who would hock his
“Picasso” to buy suckling pig for a Christmas party and then, as easily,
102 eS BRAKHAGE
ee
020

help clean up the vomit of his starving N. Y. artist friends overflowing

with this sudden richness, the man who once said:

“I thank Gawd for one thing—that Marie and I have

always been surrounded by beautiful people”;

the consciousness of the Maas who was always tutoring tarnished-angel-

hoodlums to rise to his original assumptions, his regard for youth
unending—his one most often repeated statement being:

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhbh . . . — The Young !” —

who could assume, in an instant, the entire guilt of what he considered

his “generation” to the point of weeping as if the burden of the whole
world’s woe were upon him individually—as for instance once when
confronted by a young man with “The 2nd World War” and “The
Atomic Bomb” as excuse for youthful immorality (meaning to Willard:
betrayal of a cause, the brotherhood, of friendship, or of love) to which
he replied:

“ATM Right! WE fucked it up. You fix it.” —;

the symbolist Willard Maas who insisted upon living his life as if it were
a work of art, surrounding himself and Marie with objects which exactly
reflected both all their accords and dischords till the harmony of all pent-
house atmosphere was aesthetically faithful—from the sand-painting of
Adam And Eve (by Marie) over their bed (with rattlesnake-skin
implanted) which dripped continually “with tears,” (due to some
chemical reaction between sand and snake-skin) to the black-panther-
like Labrador retrievers snarling and growling continually and slinking
about in the jungle of Victorian filigreed table and chair bottoms, to each
furnishing and decoration included in the space of living, extending to
the entire effect which was as of some Flying Dutchman, seen both sunken
in the ghostly peace of browns and marine-greens on the inside and yet
still aerially approaching N. Y. harbor on the outside but never ever
bobbing about chaotically on any superficial surface; and then (most
impossible to include in any statement) the Dear Will whom I love...
For I see that almost all this biographical sketch is in past tense. How
sad that I have seen so little of you, and Marie, these past several years.
How equally sad (to me) that I’ve seen no films from you. But I know
just what you'd say to that, my friend, as you said so often before:
SGHAE
Qu BOO K een 108
“Gawwwwwwwwwwd! BRAKHAGE, you’re always yacket-
ty-yacking about FILMS. Why don’t you go sit
on a beach for a while, fuck all the girls, or
boys, or both. Lie in the sun. LIVE a little.
Think about things. Read poetry—the classics.
You’re making too MANY films. Go have yourself a
Balllllll. LIFE is SHORT. THERE’S OTHER THINGS
TO DO, you know, BESIDES MAKING FILMS ! ”

Ah well, Willard, perhaps you’re right—for yourself, that is. And as I

re-read this much worked-over article, I see that what you AND your films
really always meant to me is utterly missing, neither left-out nor at all
right. You were, and always will be, the closest I ever came to A Master
from whom I wanted to learn the craft of my art. You taught me much
of living, instead, and became one of my dearest friends. Your films,
particularly GEOGRAPHY OF THE BODY, and your ideas for the
unrealized MECHANICS OF LOVE were direct inspirations upon my
work clear up thru my FLESH OF MORNING and LOVING. By the
time I saw the completed NARCISSUS, I was already abandoning The
Psycho-drama; but even that film may yet surprise me. I was most
shocked to realize that a film as recently completed as THE DEAD owes
some homage to the graveyard scene of IMAGE IN THE SNOW. But
then, all our relationships to others in this most difficult (so-called: US)
culture are so complicated (“‘fucked-up,” you would say) that it is prac-
tically impossible to describe the effect that anyone really has upon
another. I’ve, herein, approached your memory with paraphrases,
quotes, film and personal criticisms, histories, anecdotal moralities, jokes,
descriptions, scenarios, credits, characteristic studies, and now open let-
tering . . . So let’s leave it an open end—perhaps the next time I get to
New York, I will get that long proposed film portrait of you and Marie
completed at last.

Until then
With Love,
104 BRAKHAGE

HYPNAGOGICALLY SEEING AMERICA

SPELL “Vietnam” backwards and you and, thus, make-up the picture being
do get “ManT (ei) V’—and it does re-membered as if it were a slide cast
seem like that: that “the medium IS” from the brain against closed eye-lids,
McLuhan’s apologetic “message” . . . particles which seem to explode into
that the optic war-of-nerves occurs in brilliant coloration and, often, geo-/
anybody’s very real living room as a sym-metrical patterns when the closed-
feed-back to/fro the fat Spartans that eyes are rubbed and/or the head struck
American-‘middles’ must take them- (or—so they tell me—the brains are
selves to be. The U.S. airplanes trail treated to that internal crisis L.S.D. is
cocoons of defoliation and hatch white . mind banged inside-out, etc.).
owls offering suck to mouths which Andrew Lang (19th Century fairy-tale
“feel so clean.” Stamens of flame leap up author) called it “hypnagogic’—this
in the jungle offering a light to “Amer- seeing of your own sight’s apparatus in-
ica’s favorite cigarette,’ bombs blossom the-works: and the 19th century began
smoke—belch which dissolves in fla- the process of fixing pics. for newsprint
vored seltzer, et cetera: but this is all via some approximation of it (as the
Dada’s doing, hangover of Surrealism— ‘impressionists, culminating in the
bad European nightmares dazedreamed ‘pointilism’s of Seurat, inspired them’)
by ‘aunty’ movements which began in and thus extended one of the most in-
Continental newspapers and ended in ternal senses of man.
American museums .. . the collage of it
spilled out of colleges and into Mad. THE ‘movies—working along a line
Ave’s ‘tea-party’ (U.S.-style . . . Boston- of reflective experience—resisted the
ians playing ‘Indian’) and created a ‘graininess’ of film with all the labora-
conned-tent for television . . . okay, so tory techniques at its disposal . . . as did
far so bad: but the actual technical the great “still” photographers dedi-
means each man woman and child is at cated to the perfection of the ‘original
the mercy of in T.V.-land IS the crystal print’: but ARTISTS of the film me-
—square prophecy inherent in the me- dium began, long before T.V. was wide-
dium itself—that your life is all before spread, to utilize whatever techniques
you .. . BOTH senses of ‘before’ rob- would augment the emulsion-grain and
bing any-every one of presence and/or even painted on film, sprayed it with
the pre-sent as a gift. The T.V. viewer chemicals, etc., to approximate this ‘in-
becomes center-of-the-universe Ist time terior’ vision—“Closed-eye Vision” I
thru medium because the image-carry- called it, mid-50’s, trying to explain my
ing-light comes directly at him (or, as use of paint on film, etc., and television,
McLuhan puts it: “The viewer is the of course, exteriorized this sense-ability
screen’) and comes en-meshed, or made- as a moving phenomenon and made it
up-of, the television-scanning ‘dots’ as hypno-(gogically) -teaching a form as
which closely approximate his most possible . . . (is it only a technical fault,
private vision—his sense of his own as a result of being Ist with T.V., that
optic nerve-end activity, seen as a makes U.S. television show its “scan’ far
grainy field of ‘light’-particles when his more than European television which,
eyes are closed, particles which seem to being developed later, uses systems of
cluster into shapes in the act of memory broadcast which deliver a MUCH more

Los Angeles Free Press, February 3, 1967

SCRAPBOOK 105

solid’ un-dotted picture?) ... viz: the proximates with minute facial changes
T.V. screen scans linearly, thus ‘com- (as befits the medium) Hitler’s most
ing-on’ with all the authority of a book- exact gestural—(movie) stances (how
page, wrapping up every reader’s habit the rhythm of Johnson’s slight head
in its ‘take’ on Lit. and _taking-up, tilts and the shifts of his facial muscles
where 19th century landscape painting marshal a specific television attention
left off, on the whole Western eye(z) ed . . . how the scanning-dots cluster and
sub-conscienceviewing process . . . the scatter with each shift of light and
T.V. ‘dots, backed by the light-source shadow across his T.V. ‘hyp’ face with
and the pale blue-ish tone of it (prime all the force of ordered crowds of people
color of closed-eye vision in deep mem- toned to his ‘benevolent’ expression
ory process, blue tinting the whole breaking into rioting mobs—particu-
grainy field when the eyes have been larly at his each questioning look—and
closed in a dark room for a long time), then lining-up militarily on cue of
do pre-tend the brain of the viewer is frown, etc. ... an attention that an un-
IN THE “SET,” a tendency that soon grainy medium, like ‘the movies,’ could
makes him feel as if what he’s watching only command thru violent ‘stage’ ges-
had always been stored in his own tures backed by actual crowds of people
memory banks, as if he ought to act on behaving on cue, as in 30’s Germany).
instructions from T.V. as surely as he
would on his own experiences as re- I ALSO suggest tilting your head while
membered. Thus, thru mimicry of watching T.V.—an act which turns
memory process and thru prophetic ‘linear’ to some verticality and, for some
hypnosis, the viewer’s life is all before mysterious reason, makes the dots much
him. less visible. But, these are finally only
‘tricks’ played on the machine itself and,
HOW to defeat this phony deja-vu?... as such, a too-simple patch-work against
sharpen the eyes! I’ve been primarily ultimate disaster. One must become
making silent films for years now—since aware of one’s own inner-eye workings
I discovered that the eye’s sight of any- and thus, come to know television for
thing was automatically dulled when what IT is, defeat ITS hyp-goggles at
any sound was attended to . . . espe- source in self.
cially since the discovery that the inner- ONE of the most useful meditations, in
eye (hypnagogic vision and all con- this respect, is the conscious act of re-
sciousness of visual-memory’s superim- membering a T.V.-image—a careful
position on any external scene being and deliberate attention to the process
looked-at) was impossible to attend to, of memory itself in calling fortha tele-
WITH THE EYES OPEN, when and vision scene . . . a seeing of it taking
ONLY when a sound was being heard shape on the grainy-field of your own
consciously. So, turn the sound down closed eyes, the pulse with which it
on the T.V. set-to and put your inner- comes back at you, the coloring it takes
eye back in your own head immediately onto itself, et cetera . . . this, at least,
—see, then, how the television, and restores the T.V. ‘original’ to your own
movie, directors cover up a poverty of physiological consciousness. I discov-
visual imagination by lulling the eye to ered the effectiveness of this process
sleep with sounds continuum . . see, while making “23rd Psalm Branch,” a
for instance, how President Johnson ap- feature-length war film; and I found it
106 BRAKHAGE

to be the only way I could experience surely as rhythmically-structured ‘tones’

the newsreels of my childhood AND of music express a composer’s feelings) .
that ‘staged’ slaughter in Vietnam TELEVISION dumped the implica-
which T.V. brings daily into my home, tion of monstrous war guilt into my
in a creative way—that is as an existent living room; and every conceivable
reality. Otherwise, it’s just the old pea- hypnotic means of that medium seemed
and-the-nut trick: I somehow KNEW to imply its filthy (striptease/top-seek)
the pea was up the politician’s sleeve; pictures originated in ME and that its,
but I didn’t know how it got there: thus, prophetic imperialism was/will-be
and the politician’s hand is faster than an absolute necessity of my continued
the preconditioned eye, but NOT faster living. I was, thus, ‘bugged’ in the
than the inner eye’s ability, thru mem- fullest sense of the word and had to go
ory, to play the whole trick back in back, memory-wise to the source of that
extreme slow motion, with personally trick in my life: the somewhat similar
creative interpretation ( in the mind’s noose-reels of my World War II years
edit of the parts of the image re-mem- under child’s hood—1938 thru 1945
bered, the order of objects called-forth : and the “23rd Psalm Branch,” the
having a meaningful continuity, or per- film I created OUT of these struggles,
sonal message, akin to any wordless does illuminate the whole process of
comic strip or silent movie sequence) pictured war sufficiently to enable me
and ‘colored’ to suit, or express, your to say, with Michael McClure (from
own deepest emotional response (the “Poisoned Wheat’) “I AM NOT
closed eyes flashing banks of color GUILTY. I AM A MEAT CREA-
rhythmically in the act of memory thus, TURE”: and to watch my T.V. set
express the feelings of the person as from where I AM.
SCRAPBOOK 107

LECTURE INTENDED
... for Denver Friends of New Cinema of-a-conductor The Denver Symphony
showing on April 2, 1967... has stuck with for years out of this area
... or at least, finally, trying to dislodge
I have been asked to say a few words from seats of absolute power men like
to begin this program—this which is, Otto Bach—who still wields squatters
so far as I know the second public (that rights over the by-now-oiled-over eyes
is: non-club) showing of any of my of the majority of the populace . . . tried
films in my hometown of Denver . at last in sheer desperation to persuade
the first Denver public showing of any some of the ex-sports writers of the local
of my work was at the Vogue Theatre papers who, as the last stop before the
last night—April Fool’s Day, appropri- broom closet, became the art colum-
ately enough. nists of the community—tried to per-
All right then—Hello! Denver!, after suade them that a painting was not to
all these years . . . I’m now living in a be judged necessarily on the basis of
ghost town a good hour’s drive from whether it was a ‘knockout’ or not, that
these streets and have been residing they did not have to play ‘umpire’ to
peacefully here several light years away the local plays in their reviewing of
from the bitter memories of my early them, that an orchestra was not a cheer-
struggles as dog/artist in this city: and leading section to be judged on the
I have given up most of those hopes basis of its noise . . . etcetera/etcetera)
I'd had of any kind of cultured com- . . until I finally got tired, clear
munity in these environs, those hopes through to the social marrow of my
I'd wasted many of my young energies communal bones. Charles Olson once
upon (their final ‘dash’ came when a said to me that a town, however large
mailing to 4,000 Denverites advertising it becomes, always remains what it was
the U.S. premiere of Erik Satie’s at scratch: and I’ve come to believe
“Sports and Diversions,” played by Bob that true... come to see that New York
Tipps, with slides of the original paint- is as ‘provincial’ in its huge tastes as it
ings he’d composed them to and dra- was when it was truly ‘a province’—
matic presentation of the text, at the that San Francisco is, as it was when it
North Denver “Theatre Innovations,” was established, an international city—
netted an audience of one person—and and that Denver is, well, Denver.
on a warm spring night, at that: but I was, about three months ago, about
that was only the last straw in a series to be convinced that all that was chang-
of such chaffings . . . I’d started with ing. Many energetic young people were
enough enthusiasm to stage Chekhov, beginning to be doing extraordinary
Maetterlinck, Strindberg, Wedekind things in and around the ‘here’ I once
and othersuch, in an army surplus tent knew as home. My antenna at 9,000
in Central City when I was fresh out of feet had begun to pick up the folk-
South High School, had lost what little music scene coming through on the
money I had over and over again trying radio even. There was suddenly an
to import a Museum of Modern Art ‘underground’ newspaper—well I hate
Film Series into this area . . . had lost that word, being a living room man
what little temper I had trying to get myself: but the truth is that the news
men like that tone-deaf metronome- comes through the underground news-

Mile High Underground 1(2), April 1967

108 BRAKHAGE

papers as straight as you'll get it in a the editor of the ‘“Mile-High Under-

prison pipeline system, I mean tapped ground” is up before the Denver courts
out of the sheer frustration which the on a charge of “pornography” and
authorized prison newspapers will never “possession of illegal implements” (a
reveal—. And there were light shows syringe, etc., he’d had hanging on his
and poets coming through, and painters wall). My favorite radio announcer is
putting together a little gallery here and ‘on the lam,’ so they tell me. Etcetera.
there, etcetera. The Vogue Theatre A week or so ago, I spent the whole
discovered Andy Warhol and pulled a day in The Boulder Police Bldg. asking,
few works of film art into midnight simply: “Why are you harrassing the
shows on Andy’s coat tails. Some old cultural community of this town?” and
enemies called up and congratulated reading “The Little Flowers of Saint
me on this and that. Francis” between interviews to help me
Ah, well, but it was nice to be smiled hold my temper. I was told what I
at on the streets for a change: though already knew: that ‘narcotics’ was the
my wife, Jane, warned: “We don’t ‘illegality’ they were honing-in on: but
know who our friends are anymore—it I was essentially there to try to convince
used to take courage to be friends of any attendant ear (and there were a
ours.” All the same, I had a soft spot couple) that art, dope, long-hair/san-
in my head for all the goings-on, was dals, etc., light-shows, riots-in-the-
growing tender hopefuls down by back- streets, etcetera, were not necessarily
bone and out to my finger tips and toes, synonymous. I am here to try to tell
imagining very real hand shakes and you essentially the same thing: for the
dances in the air—until “The Bust’ ‘bust’ has revealed to me that it is a
began and all the pieces fell into arch- ‘peanuts Berkeley’ many of the people
typical placement. First the S. F. Mime want here rather than a ‘Denver Art
Troup was pulled in for a use of lan- Community’: it is kicks they’re after
guage that is becoming common in even and the police are, of course, the au-
Hollywood movies, in a time when the thorized kickers, the communally ac-
so-called “sexual revolution” is a topic cepted representatives of Cain: and
of panel discussion once a week on Edu- The Able are Abel, as always: and the
cational TV even. Then Clancy’s Book- pieces of this ‘bust’ fall into the oldest
store—the only place in the state I know standard arch-type of this Judeo-Chris-
of where you can buy the works of the tian civilization. The able young lie to
younger poets with any regularity—was themselves when they scream they’re
raided for selling buttons! and his win- “lambs led to the slaughter” as surely
dows have since been busted twice by as the police do when they use “sex”
unknown members of the Boulder com- or “narcotics” as their excuse for the
munity. The Boulder Bardo-Matrix Shem/Shaun game they play with all
light shows were twice raided for “dis- those who wear “kick me” expressions
turbance of the peace,’ a complaint on the public streets. The Boulder Irish
that must have amazed the residents cop who troubled himself to admit to
who live near the fraternities of that me that Christ probably would have
town. Local detectives attended the been a draft card burner, has come a
Experimental Cinema Group showings lot farther along a road of some
on CU campus and confiscated what thoughtfulness than most of my hippie
they referred to as “pornography”? off friends have on the quest-shuns of the
the desk of a CU art instructor. Now moment . . . I wonder, for instance, if
SCRAPBOOK 109

my editor friend knows he was nailing several of them successful in that at-
himself to The Judeo-Christian wall tempt, though I won’t tell you which
when he hung up that syringe as surely ones because I know that judgment
as if he’d knocked himself to a cross for blinds (that is why Justice is always
the occasion? Maya Deren once said represented thus) and I would like to
to me that in a society (such as ours), take this as one of those few occasions
lacking art, thus contemporary myth, in Denver when the eyes have it! ...
the young seek to define themselves by know, anyway, that art is finally a very
breaking the laws, simply because ‘law- personal matter. . .and I would not,
breaker’ becomes the only specific defi- therefore, intrude upon anyone’s private
nition left to them. vision. Art is public in this sense: that
I don’t know how many tonight are its availability to anyone is a necessarily
here for ‘kicks,’ for the ‘experiment’ shared responsibility of everyone—like
these films are supposed, as advertised, life itself. A work of art requires a very
to be . . how many are ‘slumming’ to- fragile landscape in which to exist . . .
night, as the word ‘underground’ would a cough, let alone a riot, can disturb
seem to suggest as an eventuality of the its continuities . . . a suppressed cough,
evening? . . . how many want to see or rioting imagination, even more so—
some SIN, some ‘over-exposure,’ so to for the subtlest feelings become attenu-
speak? .. . how many are secretly hop- ated while experiencing aesthetics: and
ing the place will be raided?—I don’t I have known the impatience of a very
know . . . maybe none . . . maybe I few people (who had not the sense to
wrong you all: but it has been a rough leave an auditorium where they were
couple of weeks for me: I would like unhappy) to spread like a plague
to suggest in the midst of this current throughout an entire audience simply
cultural bursting and busting enthusi- because it was more attention-getting,
asm—TI would like to suggest some sim- as being easier to attend to, than the
plicities of experience: that, say, the complexities of an aesthetic experience.
local burlesque is a greater ‘camp’ than But the strength of art is that it is some-
anything you’re likely to see here to- how so much needed by people that
night, despite the advertising—that the often and again they will provide the
local streets are, for that matter, more fragile landscape it requires for its ex-
campy .. . that the local cathouses are istence and will even, tho’ very rarely,
greater for kicks than the cops are, etc. attend that growth to shape the com-
Let my speech be titillation enough munity at large, I have no such large-
for the evening’s scandal-dogs—and if scale hopes for Denver environs tonight,
it hasn’t been enough, I’ll meet with but I will wish for the magic of that
anyone afterward and run through all special occasion this might be: that it
the dirty words I know, okay? I take might be the eye of the social hurricane
each of these films to be at least an I’ve experienced lately and, as such, be
attempt at a work of art: and I judge focused upon something beyond all that.
110 BRAKHAGE

ON 23RD PSALM BRANCH

This is part of a lecture given at the we were directly responsible for dealing
film-makers’ Cinematheque on April 22, with it. I knew that the composition
1967 at the premiere of the “23 Psalm on the screen made quite clear the fact
Branch, Parts I @ II & Coda,” and that it was 19th century drama or
“Songs 24 @ 25.” staged war, photographed flatly and
BRAKHAGE: I think that this projected through this incredibly hyp-
(23rd Psalm”) is a peculiar film, a notic device. In effect it was hooking
kind of home movie war film. It really us to that proclivity. I don’t know how
is an attempt to deal with war in the this came about, except that it devel-
way that it was forwarded into the en- oped so much paranoia and disturbance
vironment of our home. in the house that my wife and I began
Jane and I and the children live to have a kind of quarrel such as the
in a log cabin in the mountains. We previous nine years of marriage hadn’t
don’t get newspapers. We’d occasion- produced. It was a long, lingering,
ally listen to the news on the radio. building-up quarrel, that required laws
Nonetheless, about two years ago, we and counter laws to balance it and
took into the house a television set. Pri- check it. Meanwhile, I had taken a lec-
marily it was used as a form of ‘going ture tour to West Germany and had
out.’ The expenses and travel necessary spent several hours in East Berlin and
to get to a movie of any kind were pro- some time in Vienna, and I came back
hibitive. Because of these factors, we very disturbed about seeing the actual
would almost dress up and ‘go out’ to plight of things that up until then I had
the TV. We’d turn it on and view a only experienced through Hollywood
particular program, then turn it off and movies. I found that I couldn’t deal at
go back downstairs. And in that form, all with Vietnam. I had never been
I think we accomplished the most there. As yet, I haven’t seen any imag-
blessed use of television. Nevertheless, ery that presents it in any way that’s
despite all those precautions, it (the even close to what Vietnam might be.
television) finally began to affect our Nevertheless, when you have a machine
lives. I have been working all these that comes on in the form that televi-
years on a series of 8mm film “Songs,” sion does, where the images are carried
as much as possible out of the inspira- by the light directly to the eyes (that is,
tion of “amateur,” in the true sense of not reflected), and where the images
the word. It came to a point where it are composed of moving dots and par-
seemed that I could make a film about ticles (as emphasized by American
anything in the house, except I couldn’t TV), the effect psychologically was the
deal with the television set. It wasn’t same as in so-called memory recalls.
just the object itself, but rather that it That is, when an image is remembered
was our only specific connection with from a person’s own experience it comes
society, with a capital “‘S.” It was some- as if carried by the light, and is made
thing which we were expected to be re- up of moving dots, some of them being
sponsible for. Watching the news pro- very similar to the scan on television.
grams, commercials, or dramas, I saw I began to feel that what was causing
their whole assumption was that war the hypnosis of the set, itself, was simply
was being actually presented to us, and that it presented an image in a way so

NY Film-Makers’ Newsletter 1(2), [A transcript of the complete remarks are

December 1967 published in Film Culture 67-69, 1979]
SCRAPBOOK Hil

similar to the act of memory that the one, and then other colors that don’t
effect was as if my brain was in the tele- even have names. All of which come
vision set. While I was viewing TV’s primarly through the mind’s eye, each
experience of data, I would automat- with different rhythms. We also say
ically feel like acting on it as I would “Green with jealousy,” or “sickly green”
on my Own experience. And as my ex- or “green as a go signal.” And these all
periences aren’t primarily 19th century turned out to be true of certain aspects
drama, this created a crisis in myself of green. Then we say “yellow” for
that I couldn’t deal with directly. I felt cowardice, and “blue” for certain forms
the only chance I had, was to go to the of sadness, particularly in relation to
crux of my memory of the Second nostalgia. I began intensively remem-
World War through the movies and the bering this war of my childhood and
newsreels as a child, and then acting on then making the film out of only those
that material to shoot it out with the images that I could remember having
rest of the kids in the neighborhood. I seen as a child. I was directly inspired
began wondering what to do in the face by the order in which I remembered
of having been hooked into that pro- them, and the rhythms in which they
clivity at so young an age. I believed were flashed forth. This whole work-in-
that the war transmitted to me, was a itself was very inspired by the films of
real one—as a child does believe what’s Peter Kubelka, and particularly by his
given him. Under such circumstances, firm “Arnulf Rainier” which made me
how could I possibly make it my own realize something of my own physiology.
war, then, or now? And it seemed to This is*Part I: Then in Part I], I
me that the hope lay in remembering, couldn’t end it, yet. Even more than
accurately enough, the order of those any film I’ve ever made, I wanted to
images as they arose in the mind’s eye make this one an “incompleted work,”
in the act of intensive memory, and the and at one point stated: “I can’t go
patterns and shapes that arose with on,” (in the film), and really meant
them. that. Then I found that just as in the
For some years, I have been painting world at large, when man as a society
in my films, For this film, I tried to screams: “We can’t go on. We must
remember the order of the color flashes. have peace,” that’s when the war is
In the act of intensive memory, I saw really beginning to take hold. And that
that every image that arose arrived in was true here too. I had to go beyond
banks or flashes of certain tones of that point, there was no getting out of
colors that became very complex and so it. And then finally I got to the point
forth. I began working with a set of where it wasn’t enough to have made
simple colors that I could create with. that clear to myself in a positive man-
We have this idea in the language, that ner, but I had to go on to a Part II to
most people aren’t aware of it con- search out the sources of why I might
sciously, that in memory (or just in possibly have to make this film. I think
looking) the eyes are putting-out (emit- “Part II” is even more complex than
ting) a color. We do say that a man the first—as seeking out the source of
sees “red” when he’s angry. And I anything is more complex. “Part II”
found that a true term, a very blunt and seems to me to fall into a series of short
general one, that in anger there are films that go together and are rather
various shades of red ‘seen’ by the angry like sonnets, for a lack of a better term.
112 BRAKHAGE

You'll see that there are Peter Kubelka’s this film has the most structured
Vienna, My Vienna, Nietzsche’s Lamb, thought behind it of any film that I’ve
and also a Tribute to Freud. Well made.
finally the work was finished. My hope simply is that it relates to
Throughout the editing of the film the physiology of everyone. Anyone
Jane and I had an almost continuous that leads off with drama, even in the
number of quarrels. They reached such most avant-garde expectancy, and opens
a pitch that I moved out of the house up to his nerve-endings singing, and the
for three days into a motel and ran up ringing of ears, and the possible flashing
a $30 phone bill screaming at my wife of the eyes and the idea of death, is
over the telephone. We had gotten to within his own memory of that war and
the point that we were solacing our- his own experiences thereof this film’s
selves by looking around and seeing how subject matter. For me, the film has
many divorces there were occurring in been very helpful, and my hope is that
this year of war, and searching out all in this time, whatever anyone may feel
the statistics of divorce. We also took about the war, this film can inform any-
notes of how many forms of disease were one of how their very bones and marrow
spreading in this society. and their physiology act in the face of
During this period, I made very care- controlled media that try to destroy
ful and involved studies of the Second all possible individual thought. Well,
World War. As a result, the editing of thank you...
SCRAPBOOK 113

EIGHT QUESTIONS
Question: How do you finance films if spools. And we had to sit in the dark
not by a foundation? with pencils and unreel it onto spools
Brakhage: The first intimation I had and make a splice in the dark so we
that I was going to make a film some could get hundred foot rolls. And we
fifteen years ago was when some friends then borrowed several cameras; also,
and I were talking about how sad it we rented a camera for a couple of
was that an artist couldn’t work with weekends. By the time, two years later,
the film medium; that it was so prohibi- we got a sound track on it, I suppose
tively expensive that no artist could Interim had cost something like five
work with it. I remembered that when hundred dollars. This is how I made
I was a child I was put in a boy’s home that first film; it seemed to me too ex-
called Harmony Hall—which was any- pensive.
thing but that—and forced to hold my The second film was sponsored:
hands above my head for two hours be- Unglassed Windows Cast a Terrible
cause I had said to some other kid that Reflection. It turned out to be some-
anything was possible, and he reported thing like a sponsored film. After that
that I had said that you could cut off I began making my own films.
somebody’s head and that it would When I began my third film I had
sprout wings and fly away. And when no money at all. I still wasn’t convinced
that was thrown at me, when they said: that I was a filmmaker. Like Jean Coc-
“Ts that possible too?” I said: “Yes, teau, I was a poet who also made films.
it’s possible.” So I was punished for That was how I thought of myself: I
having said this. And as I stood there, was Denver’s Jean Cocteau. And this
every time my hands touched the wall third film had been promised to the
they would hit them with a ruler. So public: we had been trying to import
I came at that time to believe very Museum of Modern Art film classics
strongly that anything was possible; I into Denver, and we had promised the
was either going to be broken at that public three films, and couldn’t afford
moment or believe what I had said. So to rent the third one. Someone had
when my friend said that it was pro- some outdated black and white footage
hibitive for an artist to use the medium, and since it was cheaper to pay just the
I didn’t believe him. With that clarity processing I shot the film to fulfill that
that is real presumption in the young, third slot. It was a biting satire on
I said: ‘Well, I’m an artist and I’m what we used jokingly to call “desisten-
going to make a film.” But that sounds tialism.” Long before the Beats, this
too noble, because I was terribly shy, film (Desistfilm) prophesied the whole
and there was this girl that I wanted concept of the Beat generation. I used
to go with, and I was too shy to ask her jokingly to say ““We’ve got beyond the
straight out. So I cast her in the lead stage of existentialism, we’ve got to the
in this film. Essentially, I began to stage of desistentialism.” So I made
make film in order to disprove this state- this satire on that form of life which is
ment and to make out with this girl. destructive to the self. It had a sound
And here’s the financial side of it: track and cost something like a hundred
we got some war-surplus out-dated and twenty dollars to an answer print.
Dupont gun-camera film in fifty foot So you see, each film comes in a dif-

April 1967 remarks after a screening at University of Cincinnati; Cinema Now, 1968
 114 BRAKHAGE

ferent way. Dog Star Man (of which works out of love and the work is out
you'll see the Prelude tonight) was there; and then he takes this work into
made while I had a job at a lab that society, and that’s always very difficult.
agreed to process my film at cost while I mean no one truly understands it,
I was on the job. They never realized just as no one’s parents truly under-
that I was to put through six thousand stand one’s true love. Yet a work of art
feet in two months’ time. Also at this must have a life in society; once the
studio we had high speed cameras. So artist has finished making it, it belongs
we had super equipment, and all that to others. But he never made it with
footage at a very minimal cost. And so the idea of taking it into society. Any
it goes. man that sets out to find a girl to intro-
When I need to do something I some- duce to his parents is never likely to fall
how find the means to do it. And in love. Any man that sets out to make
somehow, like magic, incredible coinci- a work for audiences is never going to
dences occur that make it possible. make a work of art. A work of art is
Then all kinds of possibilities open. For made for the most personal reasons—
instance, when some sixteen mm equip- as an expression of love.
ment was stolen, I had only enough
money to buy eight mm equipment to Question: Could you tell us what you
replace it. So for three years now I’ve feel about eight mm?
been making eight mm films I probably Brakhage: First of all, it’s cheaper than
never would have made had it not been sixteen mm. Next— just picking up
for this thief. For this I’m grateful: one of those little cameras relates me to
it’s opened up a whole new area in my the whole sense of amateur. It’s an
work, amateur medium. I have a growing
conviction that something crucial to the
Question: Is your intent in making a development of the art of the film will
film to communicate? come from amateur home-movie mak-
Brakhage: I get this question every- ing, as well as from study of the classics:
where; and the big hangup is the word Eisenstein, Griffith, Melies, and so forth.
“communication.” It’s like this: let me It’s so small and lightweight—I stick
explain by way of a story, a true story. it in my pocket, carry it everywhere—
A man falls in love. The girl doesn’t and so cheap: used eight mm cameras
love him. She hurts him; she wants usually go for about fifteen dollars.
somebody to hurt and he wants some- Some, when they’re used, are broken
body to hurt him, but he doesn’t know down and do extraordinary things, like
that yet. He’s downcast. Then he meets failing to catch the film just right so it
another girl and he loves her and she makes a particular pattern and flutter.
loves him. He no longer needs to try One I had broke down utterly when I
to communicate with her: they just was doing an ocean film. Its spring
take walks together, and make love, broke permitting me to grind it at dif-
and talk. Then he has it: some ex- ferent speeds; so I would let the wave
pression of his love is out there in the rush up very fast by grinding slowly,
world. and then I’d suddenly zoom up so that
Then he takes her to introduce her the wave reached its peak in slow mo-
to his parents, and he is involved in tion, and then I’d slow my hand down
communicating again, and this is very so that the wave would break up in an
difficult. Well, this is like when a man incredible order.
SCRAPBOOK 115

Then eight mm film is given such a and I had no equipment to do this, so

blow-up on the screen that you can see there I was trying to iron the film, and
the grain of the film stock much more it went “wreak-wrock,” like this, and
clearly than in sixteen mm high speed then trying to drop these accurately into
film. The crystals that make blue look the picture area where the lips (mimes
quite different from those making red lip action) (Laughter). Well, three
and green. For years I’ve baked film, hours of this and I’m out of my mind.
used high speed film and sprayed Before I had a chance to cool off, the
Clorox on it so as to bring out grain telephone rang. It was long distance
clusters. You might say it’s inspired by and a voice on the other end said:
impressionism, but it’s a great deal more “How would you like a million dollars
contemporary than that. I have been worth of motion picture equipment to
trying for years to bring out that quality work with?” I should have hung up
of sight, of closed-eye vision. I see pic- immediately or crossed myself or put
tures in memory by the dots and moving some garlic on the phone (laughter)
patterns of closed-eye vision—those ex- but like a fool I said, “Who is this?”
plosions you can see by rubbing your As it turned out it was some guy who
eyes, and even without rubbing; there’s wanted something on his own who was
a whole world of moving patterns. It’s pretending he could connect me with
a manifestation of the optic nerve, and a college that actually had a million
God knows what else. dollars worth of equipment and he
There are endless advantages to claimed he could get me a job there.
working with eight. Creative advan- And we suffered for two months as a
tages. It’s an entirely different medium result of this phone call. Since then I’ve
from sixteen. It imposes a different been very careful—you know, it’s like
kind of discipline because there isn’t a the monkey’s paw or Alladin’s lamp:
way of easily working with A and B you get three wishes, yet no matter what
rolls and changing lights in the lab— you wish, it’s stacked against you.
some labs do it but it’s pretty expensive. If I absolutely had to work in 35
Editing, when there is editing, is on the mm, I would simply find a way to do
order of the splice. Eight mm _ has it. For instance, right now I need 35
freed me to work freely, much as an mm in my work in hand painting the
artist is freed in sketching. image. I get 35 mm film stock from
the back of lab editing baskets, stock
Question: If an angel were to give you that would otherwise be thrown out.
money to work with 35 mm, would you I’ve been working two years now and
want to? have three seconds done.
Brakhage: It doesn’t work that way
with me. To answer your question Question: As I understand it, you feel
about an angel who would give me that money and affluence are not a good
35 mm: usually it’s the other fellow climate for artistic endeavors?
who gives us things like that. If you Brakhage: Its a personal matter.
were to say: “We must have 35 mm!” Imagine Wallace Stevens as anything
—poof, the telephone would ring and but a banker, the banker he was, mov-
there he’d be, right out of Faust. For ing in that world of dark shadows and
me, once, it did just that: I had been thick rugs and mahogany staircases and
working on a lip-sync film. There I was rubber plants and semi-stained glass
with the dialogue on magnetic tape, windows, moving down to the bank and
116 BRAKHAGE

its vaults and resounding echoes. All and feeling his heart beat. And always
that’s part of his milieu and he’s incom- it begins with and comes to this: a man
prehensible without it. Some artists feel attending his physiology and making an
they need to move through this shadow expression out of it. I think the first
world of the rich. It’s very hard to talk expression was some creature beating
about affluence and art because it’s so his chest to give out with the heart beat,
much an individual matter. There’s a and then the feet danced, so the feet
kind of artist who will flourish and were expressing the heart beat, and
flower under a great cultural explosion, then the heart beat was heard more
and Andy Warhol is an excellent ex- complexly, and that made possible a
ample; and there are other artists who greater variety of rhythms. Anyone
make a work that will not flower under who attends his own heart beat can find
that climate. Their art must be infi- the source of all rhythmic structures.
nitely attended. The trouble with the And then there were pictures in the
cultural explosion is that it tends to eyes. There was experience and there
engender a kind of interest in an art were memories and the memories came
that can be viewed quickly, or a piece up and made a picture and there were
that can be viewed once, or a play that things crucial to the picture, and they
can be seen and comprehend once over made of it a hieroglyph, and writing
television, or on the stage, or a paper- started there. And I think, at heart,
back that you read once and then throw that all art is today as it was then: man
away or give to a friend. This may be is supposed to be a billion years old.
exciting, but it is anti-art, as I under-
stand it. I think one finally comes back Question: And the great artist is more
to those things that are meaningful in aware of this, of these life cycles?
one’s life. Films are just beginning to Brakhage: I don’t know. The great
provide this possibility where one can artist may be less aware of it. “Great”
have them in their homes, in libraries and “aware” are two words.
where they can be come back to again
and again in meaningful film viewings. Question: This would relate to the
I look forward to this very much, be- statement you made in a letter to Jonas
cause it takes film off the stage, off the Mekas: “Plant this seed deep in the
public occasion scene and out of the underground. Let it draw nourishment
competitive arena. Such library facili- from uprising of spirits channeled by
ties will provide for the necessity a gods.”
viewer may feel to see a particular film. Brakhage: You know what this is like?
It’s necessity that causes a work of art It’s like . . . this is strange because I
to come into being, and it is necessity kind of remember those words. Scien-
that makes a viewer commit a work of tists tell me that short of the molecular
visual art to memory. Such preserva- structure in my brain there’s not an
tion constitutes the true continuity of atom left in me that wrote that, or very
culture. few. This is as if I presented you with
I look at a work over and over, and a statement that you wrote eight, nine
then thoughts come. I think art is the years ago. I don’t know; I would say
expression of the internal physiology something different now. That sounds
of the artist. It’s that at scratch: the to me a little too rhetorical.
individual expression that can be at-
tended by a person hearing himself sing Question: I’m intrigued though at the
SCRAPBOOK 117

mention of the word “god” in connec- powers that be.” And I said: “Take
tion with the earth. Was it chthonic that to the nth power, and that’s a
deities you had in mind at that time? power concept,” but not my concept of
Brakhage: God knows, as they say, god. My god is existence. My god is
what I had in mind at that time. This manifest in everything; not through
afternoon we were talking, and the power but through being, through an
phrase came up, “the powers that be,” unfolding of being, through a willing-
how timorous people were about “the ness to dance with life and existence.
powers that be,’ powers which are, All religions, however different, grant
really—non-existent; powers which have preeminently to man the power of the
so dominated the American business will. So that is my idea of “the powers
world: powers which can be very that be’—the will of the dancer, open
beautifully defined as “the non-existent and willing, the will of the dancer.
ug ERA
WITH LOVE
There is no contemporary place for woman in art, if art be considered
a form in history the shape of which is determined by inventions which
have shaped it and each invention of which answers the previous inven-
tions which are crucial to it (as is clear in the medium of mathematics,
etc.), because the form is male (as most historical forms are) and even
overtly exclusive of woman (as even the subject matter of most, say,
poems in the English language are premised thus—thus as content thus—
thus as “form is never more than an extension of content” thus,— etc.)
while yet each source of inspiration, creatrix of impulse throughout, is
woman—the muse is female . . . the beginning of any form is woman
(as, say, contemporary medicine finds its roots in the natural activities
of witches), as the first rite is rooted rightly in the imagination in a
matriarchy. Each bull dike and each effeminate man extend bridges to
and from, respectively, the world of the arts—these hang in space now,
whatever the greatness of technicality which keeps them, those bridges,
afloat (and you know what I mean when you temper this with the
knowledge of, say, Gertrude Stein’s importance) make side pockets on
the trousers of historical art, that hierarchitectitiptiteploftical of men’s
doing, the UNdoing of which is always at the fly-open (“side pockets”
makes me think of the story of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, more famous
for her verse than her husband all the while she was living, breaking
the rule they'd agreed upon: that they would not show each other’s
work to each other, working in separate rooms, hers the study directly
above his, etc.: and coming down one day, coming up behind him as
he was looking out the window, holding his head so he would not turn
around, and slipping “Sonnets From The Portuguese” into his coat
pocket, saying something like: “Read these later—if they do not please
you, please destroy them,” etc.) ... her coming to that most clear gesture
as she became his wife, he her husband, came to understand the form
of poetry thereby, and how the inability to see she might have created
a new form, a woman’s form, from scratch, so to speak, thus the loss
of the old form, the knowledge of what she never had had, came possibly
to kill her, caused the tragedy of her death in work at least despite
both her fame and Robert’s rightful awareness of the greater [than his]
potential of her work, his continuous praise, etc. of the misleading terms
of his praise, her room above [more removed from the earth] his, etc.).
Ah, well . . . anyway, I see the possibilities of a woman’s form or forms
growing to a maturity, being a dress, bell open at bottom to all earth
Harbinger I(1), July 1967
SCRAPBOOK 119

impulse, which answers at first to the needs of that sex woman is, and
internally her organs, and becoming in time a form independent of male
shape enough to permit each woman’s invention to answer woman’s
invents in history until such time as male and female art may answer
each other, via sex at first, I imagine, and furtively as in a lift of the
skirt and some unzipping, but wherein the bridge is as extension of penis,
as inspired at source, the opening of the form of woman as structured
as her body, as sourced as her needs, and then, in time, as in love, the
side-pockets will fall away, the hands of the masterbating man-shape of
his medium be freed for embrace, their clothes in historical tatters from
the workings of lust, be simply taken off and some art be reared in
marriage, after all these poor bastards set adrift in the spaces of the
imagination, some thus housed and finally homed, in love, growth of the
union of these old arts inform them both thru its coming into maturity
of their pasts, as do children always, for a being present of each in all.
Okay, this is perhaps too metaphorical in my present writings here: but I
sense this idea as center of beautiful possibilities, tho’ it be only see/meta-
phor in the moment... “see” for “seed” there encouraging me it is more
real a sight in my imagination than I had imagined—must now hope to
some time Freudslip “real” to “‘re all” and thus inform myself it is rooting
solidly viz: spect to past.
120 BRAKHAGE

TO A CANADIAN FILM-MAKER

From a letter to Sam Perry about his description of and exercises for experiencing
closed-eye vision.

Now I'd like to get on with some really important matters—those NOT promised
on any specious “what’s the”... 1would very much like to see the Tantras of yours
in a finished (in the sense of: as you would like printed form) tho’ I take them to be
of such a nature that they will NEVER, hopefully, be finished in the sense of
complete. Apropos that: what you call “the dot plane” seems to me to be MUCH
more of a complex field than your language would suggest, tho’ I DO find the
term “The Dot Plane” to be a clear english demarcation of first approach to that
“grainy field,” as I call it, that area most take to be “background” of closed eyes
vision when they impose death upon it, attempt to distinguish it from the free-
floating irregularly shaped forms which appear, thru imposition of Rennaissance
perspective upon the whole field, as forward of grain and as, indeed, moving
nearer and farther, or vice versa, upon or in a space imagined existing between
grain and nothing, so to speak. At first, for instance, I thought that the individual
grains were fairly fixed, and of a like nature, and moved only slowly, in a “crawl-
ing” fashion,* likened them thus ALL to some capillary action, thought of them as
being, in some sense, a “seeing” of selfs optic nerve-endings, possibly as being
erythrocytes—I was aware of the spot phenomenon scientists sometimes attribute
to a seeing of laucocytes, usually perceived in chains of same, etc. I sprayed paint,
off a tooth brush, onto film to approximate this field, but of course received
flickering patterns only occasionally, as only luck would have it at first,
approximating anything like a “crawl” in the representation. Despite my despair,
at the time (time of editing Prelude and Thigh Line Lyre Triangular), my study of
these flickering paint patterns MADE ME AWARE of a similarly flickering level of
“the dot plane,” as you call it... made me aware, in time, of several differing flicker
dots—made me then aware of the, at first infinitesimally, differing SHAPES of
these differently MOVING dots or grains: and I came to see varieties of shapes
SOME of which were related (finally seen to be exactly related) SOME of which
were NOT: and of the former of the last two areas I came to call ONE type “Reich’s
grains” and/or, when I saw them MAGNIFIED thru a glass placed before
CLOSED eyes, came to honor Reich’s vision by accepting his term for the
phenomenon: “Orgone”: and to accept, temporarily at least, his term for the path
of movement: “Orgonic energy pattern”: as I found his description of the move-
ment fairly accurate —tho’ I find these moving shapes coming onto my closed eye
vision in blue, gold, and even red, and very occasionally green, rather than only in
the “blue” Reich designated to them. My continued study of the WHOLE field
inclines me to believe that there are NO exactly round grains thereIN it, that we
tend to call “round” that which has not been seen inTO distinctly enough, that,
thus “The Dot Plane” is ONLY an introductory term, so to speak, and COULD
thus constitute a verbal (to the expense of the visual) hang-up if hung onto.

“This approximated most exactly in film by the use of “grainy” film, by emulsion
grain.
SCRAPBOOK 121

FILM:DANCE
Film is the oldest art of our time The art of this is, simply, the
(in the sense Gertrude Stein finds making of these means full.
America the oldest contemporary The art of this, complexly, is as
country). and according to the needs of the
Film as film is essentially undis- man making.
covered (in the sense D. H. Law- The art of this, historically, is
rence defines America undiscov- the individual’s impress-extense of
ered), and traditional aesthetics himself to the historical forms of
interfere with this discovery (es- art.
sentially as Lawrence finds “de- That is a chance.
mocracy” impeding the discovery It, as all chance, is physiologi-
of America as America). cally centered.
Film aesthetics take shape his- It is, as un-rehearsed dance,
torically (as William Carlos Wil- determined by the immediately-
liams finds American history tak- present sense-ability of the indi-
ing some European shape aesthet- vidual dancer.
ically). Film, as this dance, is particu-
Whereas: larly American:
Films shape themselves with Its central fact is space (as
reference to very much less sense Charles Olson finds: “Space to
of history and very much more be the central fact to man born
reverence for history than any in America’) ;
other possible art. Its permital abstract is pure
Films take shape most truly energy (as Buckminster Fuller de-
there from some immediate sense fines ‘efficiency,’ American-wise,
of presence. as: “ephemeralizing toward pure
Film as film shapes itself most energy’).
usually in The Present as Gift. Its internal limitation is indi-
Film is, thus, premised on phys- vidual physiology—lack of touch,
iological sense—takes Sense as sense-thereof/with geography ...
Muse . . . is oldest art to center lack of ground—for energy, lack
itself on that source of inspiration. of direction, sense-ability-there-
The technological means of of,/for geometry . . . lack of atti-
moving pictures come into being tude—in space, (or as Gertrude
to satisfy the need of (particularly Stein refines American defini-
Western) Man for an immedi- tions: “when they make the
ately (moving) permanent (pic- boundary of a State they have to
ture) impress-extensability of (vi- make it with a straight line,” con-
sual) sense. trary to European boundaries,
Dance Perspectives 30, Summer 1967
122 BRAKHAGE

and: ‘‘A sky is a thing seen when has come along a line of internal
you look up, when you look up in physiological self-awareness only
America you see up. That is to sense of gesture.
all.”’) The cine-dance, thus, is at
When, as mythed, Mélies made worst an attempt of one medium
the first film splice, he created the to put itself into another medium
possibility of a mind’s eye art— which will not meaningfully be
its momentum subject to the put upon. At best, it is a gesture
dance of the intellect—its outer art lacking grammar.
limitation the optic nerve endings (An almost exception: Maya
of any individual. Deren, in Choreography for Cam-
As the splice became generally era, kicks casual-effectuals out in
accepted, the motion picture me- the edit of backgrounds, making
dium ceased to be a flattened box them cinematic in-scapes, time-
stage of light into which some- and-otherwise, but left the dance
thing could be put—it became in-classic-tact. )
sight’s gesture . . . the eyes had it. (An almost traditional sort of
American necessity, culminat- outgrowth: others, most notably
ing in the genius of D. W. Griffith, Shirley Clarke and Ed Emshwil-
gave it time/shape for memory’s ler, have followed Deren’s suit
articulation—an optic nerve-end and followed it up to various re-
feed-back formality .. . the mind’s actions of dancers to cinematic
eye’s Sway over any input. shift-of-scene, superimpositions,
As the Griffith grammar be- etc.: but these are of technical
came generally accepted, the mo- necessity, re-acts, even re-en-act-
tion picture ceased to need to ments, of no more immediate ne-
continue itself by classic cause- cessity than any seen-scene’s ac-
and-effect laws—it became sight’s commodation of a dancer—no
self searcher physio-logical. more than through-trueto cinema’s
Human animal necessity now dance . . . no more necessarily,
moves most individually new centered on film-maker’s sense of
world over to fulfill these means seeing shaped by memory’s eye.)
forth with more than gesture and But the Dance is as one, any-
never (the) less than search. one, exercises one’s body, any part
This is a dance. thereof, at large (Robert Duncan
As a dance, it is: as the body says he writes poetry: “To exer-
moves, the eye moves with it... cise my faculties at large’’).
as the eye moves, the body is in And the Art of Dance is as
movement. someone is able to, and does, ex-
But the dance, at worst, is tend himself, thus, through all his
premised pre-Mélies and, at best, means to the World of Dancing.
SORE
ee
SCRAPBOOK

Cine-dance, truly, would seem Dance, its premise in physiology

to me to occur only as those most historically (of all arts)
“means” might, of necessity, in- granted, has taken itself too fore-
clude a camera in dancer’s hand granted.
—(and it should be noted that Dance sits with all other “three-
both Deren and Clarke were dimensional arts’—Drama/
dancers before coming to film Sculpture/Architecture — having
. and that Emshwiller, like one hell of a time getting off the
Sidney Peterson, another signifi- stage .. . it, like Drama, has for-
cant dance-film-maker, is mar- gotten its “continuity self’ or else
ried to a dancer—approaches the the “dis” any contemporary sense
form, thus, through personal ne- of “Space/Time” kicks “Cause/
cessity). Effect” with.
But cinematic dancing might (An almost exception: “Events
be said to occur as any film-maker /Happenings”—but they, like
is moved to include his whole “Op/Pop” depend/locate on au-
physiological awareness in any dience, ergo re-act, and make ges-
film movement—the movement ture out, ergo premise themselves
of any part of his body in the film outside individual physiology . . .
making . . . the movement of his take an imagined sense as Muse,
eyes. tend to woo it through to audi-
I practice every conceivable ence.)
body movement with camera-in- I do not believe the “3-D”’ arts
hand almost every day. I do not have taken all the possible con-
do this in order to formalize the temporary means and/or found
motions of moving picture taking them in any individual hand.
but rather to explore the possibili- I do not think there is, as of
ties of exercise, to awaken my now, any cine-dance worth men-
senses, and to prepare my muscles tioning as such.
and joints with the weight of the I do imagine that there might
camera and the necessary pos- some day, through some dancer’s
tures of holding it so that I can necessity, be something of some-
carry that weight in the balance such: and I imagine the means
of these postures through my phys- of cinematography will be as
iological reaction during picture simply taken as music now is
taking and to some meaningful and that the work of the dancer
act of edit. I would like to think will, therefore, simply be called:
I share something of some-such Dance.
with dancers: and I do, of course,
simply . . . but rather more com-
plexly, I find that this Art of
m4 BRAKHAGE
TO JONAS MEKAS
Late Sept., 1967

Dear Jonas,
Now that I have had some time since making my statement of dis-
sociation from Film-Makers’ Cooperative and Cinematheque, and
now that my films have actually begun to arrive back from The Coop,
I think I am in the position wherein (hopefully herein this letter) to
examine my motives in detail and to extend to you (for whatever use
you can make of them) the warnings of a, by now, ‘outside’ person
who is, all the same (and now primarily )moved by friendship’s con-
cern for you and others still associated with the above mentioned
organizations.

I have, as you know, spent almost two years studying the phenome-
non of War—with primary emphasis upon that vast mass of written
and photographed material the Nazis left us, out of that German
proclivity to save every scrap of paper, piece of bone, etcetera—and
have made “23rd Psalm Branch” out of the necessity to comprehend
that studied material, particularly those images, which has been
shoved at me in every conceivable distortion of ‘mass media’ since I
was a child. The film “23rd Psalm Branch” does speak for itself (and
much of whatever wisdom of this letter comes from my viewing it
again and again since its making): but there is a particular area of
researched material which did not take shape in that work (because
the film centered itself upon those pictures and ideology I had been
subject to since I began attending newsreels regularly in 1938, when
I was five years old) ; and that area is usually neglected in all studies
of War, histories of same, etcetera, precisely because it is of a quality
of feeling pre-War, previous to historical data, and is thus as difficult
to expose or posit as the intuitive faculty that prompts any action or
to deal with as, say, the emotional source of any human expression.
Nevertheless, I shall attempt, in this letter, to write about what I
think did really begin my necessity to make “23rd Psalm Branch” as
well as my need to dissociate myself and my work from Film-Makers’
Cooperative/Cinematheque policies: the similarities between the
popular social movements late ’20s, pre-Nazi, Germany and the
United States today.

NY Film-Makers’ Newsletter 1(2), December 1967

SCRAPBOOK,
Twenties Germany found itself in midst of a youth-originated
Wanderlust Movement similar in some respects to several that had
occurred previously in that country’s history (and similar in some
ways, one might say, to every person in his teens beginning to have
some sense of his or her “generation” as “New,” etcetera) but specif-
ically emphatic with respect to the following ‘catchwords’, and the
ideologies clustered loosely around them, as being “Good”: (1)
“Free Love”/“Sexual Freedom”; (2) “Brotherhood” (‘between
ALL men’) / “Brother-Sisterhood” (‘between men and women’...
happily there is no martialed “Sisterhood” that women have ever
really fallen for outside that specific one which exists within the
family); (3) “Nature Worship”; (4) ‘“Anti-(‘Academic’)-Art” (I
am referring specifically to the neo-‘‘Dada” movement of that time
. . we might call it the ‘“‘2nd Dada” movement, France’s being the
“First” and our current “Fluxus”-etc. being the “Third”); (5)
“Drugs” (the taking of same as ‘Religion’... I make that specific
qualification because, after all, humans have always been drugging:
and those who primarily do so have always been telling the others
that it “felt GOOD,” etc.: but there are particular times in history
when the use of drugs has sought to sanctify itself thru its human
‘pushers’ by taking on ‘airs’ of “Religion’”—such as the period of the
introduction of Alcohol to Europe, at which time the advertisements
claimed “Visions of God,” and the like .. . that’s, for instance, how
Christian monasteries got into the liquor business, and so forth) ; (6)
andi Peace!

I think the similarities between that time-and-place and this, be-

tween the ‘“‘Wanderlust” and the “Hippie” movements, are apparent
on the page: thus I won’t belabor the comparison of these “Liberali-
ties’ more than as is necessary to point out how the Nazis used these
proclivities of “German YOUTH” (as it soon came to be capped)
and to suggest how I intend to try to prevent (in whatever American
version of fascism) some similar usage of myself, the films that have
come into being thru me, and the ideas engendered by those films in
me: (and I particularize “myself,” with respect to these matters, be-
cause my first avoidance, with regard to fascistic dangers, would be
to negate that usage that can be made of any man, and any man’s ideas
or works, pretending to ‘speak’ for others or to ‘represent’ in-and-thru
himself a group or mass of peoples).
126 BRAKHAGE

(1) “Free Love’/“Sexual Freedom”

I do think you know that there are very few people who have been
as outspokenly against sex censorship, in any form, as I have been—
and that very few have taken as many risks showing forth photo-
graphed nudity and sexual acts, showing films I had made and show-
ing those of others, in times when it was very contrary to ‘public
opinion’ and (in some cases) then existant sex laws, as I have over
the last 17 years... : (anyway—I remind you of these activities in
my personal history, at this time, because since I have withdrawn my
films from The Coop, and have stated some moral reasons ( (among
others) ) for doing so, it has been convenient for many members of
that organization to misinterpret my statements and to charge me as
“Censor!” and as being ‘‘a moral bigot,” etcetera... ; and I wish to
make absolutely clear, therefore, that I do “censor” only myself—
and therefrom those institutions Film-Makers’ Cooperative/Cine-
matheque have come primarily to be and the policies they've come to
represent: and I emphatically do not seek to impose censorship in any
way upon any other... have not, for instance, sought to boycott those
institutions in any way other than by my own withdrawal) ... : and
yet I have not ever sought to impose “Sexual Freedom” either upon
anybody and have never really known what “Free Love” (love free
from what? )was supposed to mean—except as I experienced it from
the mouths of those who shunned their ability-to-respond to loving
(thus their ‘responsibilities’) and therefore sought to sanctify this
loss of personal freedom by martialing others under some banner,
like “Sexual Freedom”, and in the manner/militancy of every hooked
‘pusher’. I express out of individual need and strive to shape film
expressions aesthetically out of the desire to make a work of art: and
I extend those expressions, when requested, to hopefully meet the
needs of others, and extend those film expressions to persons or gather-
ings of persons hopefully centered upon the variously shared/social
concept of “Art.” Art becomes arguable, socially, to the extent any
concept of it is cut-off from historical perspective / sense of it as a
medium moving and growing formally thru history—; but it is one
of the blessings of it, as concept, that it encourages a wide latitude of
individual interpretation . . . will sustain a good deal of ‘anybody’s
opinion’ without that destroying the basic idea of art and/or inter-
fering much with anybody’s experience of a work of art. What aes-
thetics cannot easily tolerate, without distortion of all its values, is
propagandistic use of works of art for, say, “proofs” of something,
SODANS
T GST |
Y,
say, “political”, etc., for or against which the work is supposed to
stand. Works of art tend to be most particularly about themselves,
each about ztself, and each about the ‘themselves’ that constitutes the
‘world of the arts’ that any particular work is in relationship to, has
grown formally ‘organically’ out of, and (as Malraux puts it) con-
verses with. Therefore, any usage of a work of art to prove anything
outside Aesthetics, or even much outside each its particular aesthetic,
is as disastrous as, say, using Mathmatic’s “2 + 2— 4” to prove that
every family must have two children. Film-Makers’ Cooperative
and Cinematheque have used the term “Art” and what I believe to
be works of art in film to promote social movements irrespective of
aesthetics. Their ‘sexploitation’ advertisement has, obviously, out-
done Hollywood’s. The court defense of ‘Flaming Creatures” as ‘a
work of art’ was both cowardly and ridiculous: (and I’m not, herein,
questioning whether it is or isn’t—if it, by any chance, IS an aesthetic
masterpiece, then the court defense is even more disgraceful .. . for
that is most certainly NOT a question that can be entertained in court:
and any mix-up of such consideration with the sexual rights of an
individual is bound to distort the values of all involved with it no
matter what the decision). But I, too, have too much championed
that usage of art (which assumes for works-of-such an inherent ob-
jectivity) to remain guiltless of the above disgrace. I had meant some-
thing quite different than the dominance of the considerations of one
field (aesthetics) upon another (legality): I had meant (and still
believe) that a work of art could inspire (rather than influence) an
individual to his own (most UNinfluenced) considerations of any
experience. I have always thought that one of the main reasons the
American public has always rejected living artists and their works
(and continues to do so in any but the most superficial, actually anti-
art, sense of, say, the ‘‘Pop” movement) is because the whole idea
of aesthetics becomes naturally loathsome to most persons forced to
it in the public schools, actually forced to memorize long rhymned
couplets (called “poems”) most of which would hardly pass under
the loose term “verse,” actually forced to hum and drum their way
thru what is mostly the worst trash music a rythmically crippled and,
thus, harmonically constipated civilization has produced or, worse
yet, to learn the great music of it according to those musical laws that
have sprung up in the wake of insensitivity, forced to paint, to puke
colors in lines according to Renn. perspectacles, etcetera: and, there-
fore, I thought it was wrong when you, Jonas, forced European
museums (as a condition for getting all the other films being dis-
mp. RARE
tributed in Europe) to show “Flaming Creatures”: and all of your
“forces,” by ploys and pulls, as well as outright coercion, seem to me
part and parcel with the public school system and all institutions
which (as all institutions do) operate under any belief of knowing
what is better for others. I do not know what is better for others:
but I do wish, for my own love’s sake, that art were not taught in
public schools—tho’ I would never move to prevent such teaching,
to thus become an institution myself... All the above considerations
apply equally to sex instruction as to art instruction. Anybody who
gives un-asked-for sexual advice to anyone else is ‘on the make’ in a
most unloving and utterly hypocritical manner possible. The Hippies
sought to avoid the neuroses of the ‘previous generations’ by a studied
indifference to heterosex and a championing of homosexuality as ‘a
cause celebre’: these negatives and positives struck off previous atti-
tudes are, obviously, as neurotic as those of their parents—plus this:
like all radical social changes, they carry the weight of conviction
in young mass psychology that they are “Right!”: and this sense of
Righteousness moves as a force of ideology that shapes all senses-of-
self to mass consideration in a way far more effectively repressive
than sex laws or ancient moralistic codes could ever accomplish. “In-
difference to heterosex” is, perhaps, not any more the correct descrip-
tive phrase than “Freedom of Sex”’ (perhaps the latter is, in its pun
subtlety, the aptest after all): young people appear to play at sex
more openly, fuck more easily—perhaps one should say: “more
readily”—but each to maintain his and her “cool,” as its called, so
that sex does never appear to arise as a problem. This “cool” is a
‘dodge’, a ‘tough-guy’ stance, an ‘in-the-know’ girl stance—as anyone
who has known a number of younger, particularly “Hippie,” people
will be aware: and it doesn’t take more than a quick review of Freud’s
ML Giant (or any psychiatrist’s writings—including Wilhelm
Reich’s) to make one aware of the latent dangers of such a dodge.
The faults, lacks, of sex-problem admit-ability have hatched, natch,
a strong propagandistic cover-up. The primary office of film propa-
ganda has become The Film-Makers’ Cooperative—the main show-
case: Film-Makers’ Cinematheque. On the one hand: “Freedom
from—” ‘problems,’ responsibilities,” etcetera . . . on the other:
“Homosexuality” ... ‘as a CAUSE’. The Nazis created secret in-
ternal cadres of the latter—dependably bound by “The Cause... the
CAUSE” —and created boy and girl youth camps side by side to
attract the latter kids who, at first, probably only wanted to fuck, and
then channeled sexual energies into gymnastics, work projects, mili-
tary training, all in a clever distracting play upon:
SCRAPB
eee OOK ee
ene ee ti‘COC‘sNSV’
129

(2) “Brotherhood” (‘between ALL men’) / “Brother-Sister-

hood” (etc.)

Every “Brotherhood” banner I’ve ever seen waved had to have its
scapegoat—in the case of Germany, it was ‘The Jews”. . . there’s
always got to be ‘somebody out there’ in order for any group to cohere.
With you, Jonas, it has always been “The Establishment”: and this
particular ‘scapegoat’ has always made you a little subconsciously
suspicious of “Aesthetics”—it being so obviously an established term,
a historical form, an antiquity ... and a term much dependent upon
what has been established of it. I have finally managed to reconcile
some of your inconsistancies by comprehending this particular ‘scape-
goat’ of yours—for instance, I understand now how you tolerate
Fluxus, a belligerently anti-art element, when you are so very much
against criticism as you truly are: Art is, after all, somewhat closely
associated in your mind with The Establishment: and The Establish-
ment is something you, yourself, feel free to criticise without restraint
or the inhibition of your own feelings against criticism: you do, thus
also, criticise critics freely—if they are anyway Established. It is the
inconsistancies that make a man seem most human (lovable, in that
sense) : and it is the inconsistancies of politics that seem most political,
nations seem most national, masses massey, etcetera. Truly, of course,
a man is always alone: every one and every thing else IS ‘outside’;
and his inner consistancy is self evident—tho’ terrifying because he
may be prey to anything and will forever know nothing about it: but
it is the particular forte of The Herd that it sustains an imaginary
defense against lonely self-consistancy and the very idea of the preda-
tor (as being more than The Enemy.) Thus any grouping develops
thru individual inconsistancies and must have its knowledgable
‘scapegoat’. Your idea that Film-Makers’ Cooperative/Cinema-
theque escapes “Censorship” by “accepting everything” is false: for
finally I must “censor myself” therefrom it; and while I may be the
first to actually withdraw, I am by no means the first to have been
“censored” by that institution: it has operated for years to the expense
of many things I do most believe in (and even “Art” did always seem
to me to be the first thing overboard in any New American Cinema
crisis—tho’ the term of it was always much mouthed for sanctity sym-
bolism). The Hippie cracker-barrel philosophies, such as “Every-
thing is Good” do only operate as Charles Olson warned they would,
viz: “I Chingness. Chance Operations. All IS interesting / Nothing
is”... that is, they wash out to a residue of easy nihilism (masked as
New Hope), evasions of responsibility (masked as Freedom for All,
130 BRAKHAGE

or some such) and the pretense of friendship or love for All

(“Brotherhood”) EXCEPT The Enemy (‘‘The Establishment”).
Everyone in a group or ‘movement’ is supposed to assume he and
everyone else absolutely agree as to who The Enemy IS: but the truth
of such a situation, by its very nature, is that everybody is more and
more (as the assumption becomes less and less explicit among the
inconsistancies of group-and-, thus, mass psychology) vulnerable to
being told by any particular person WHO The Enemy is and believ-
ing it, whomever it may at any moment turn out to be. One of the
particularly difficult inconsistencies that has moved thru you and
thru the “Hippie” movement in general and thus much dominated
Film Makers’ Cooperative is, in addition to the assumption that
everybody knows who the Enemy is, the added panacea: “There is
no Enemy.” The Nazis made horrible use of this similar inconsis-
tancy in the Youthood movement of their times: The Jews became
such assumed enemies, when there were ‘“‘NO enemies,” that nobody
even felt bothered to find out what was happening to them. They
were essentially treated as UN-natural—a ghost ‘scapegoat’ ...a
much more group-psychologically satisfactory Enemy than any tan-
gible predator. I think they were essentially exterminated as a direct
result of:

(3) “Nature Worship”

The whole idea of ‘‘Nature Worship” is strictly a City-Dweller’s

concept. I don’t know anyone who really LIVES in the country who
would ever dream of using the phrase. “Nature” is, as a term, mostly
a City-Dweller’s depository for all that idealism which he can’t pos-
sibly make functional in his primary environment. It is, thus, a
‘dodge’ at scratch. When it gets attached to it the word “Worship,”
the very hills do begin to “skip” and “tremble”: and when the two
terms take on a social, then national, cluster of ideologies, it usually
leads to a slaughter of the animals and, eventually, of whole peoples
as well. The very premise of “Nature” as a distinction—thus to be
‘“Worshiped”—is that the very human beings who believe in it think
themselves to be Un-natural, feel they must be made more NATU-
RAL, etcetera, and must thus define something else as hopelessly un-
natural for ultimate scape-goat. “Survival of the fittest” is the easiest
catch-phrase along which this line of thought travels: and thus we
soon have men stomping every non-belligerent creature in his path
into the ground and worshiping the prowess of himself, the techno-
BG RAUB OOlga ee BT
logical materials of his culture, and the “Nature Worship” ideology
of his group which makes this possible. The American “Nature Wor-
ship” movement centers itself about “Health Food Stores,” ““Macro-
biotic Diets,” and the like, large scale city-park picnics and weekend
trips to the country: and the filmic expressions of these, so far, have
been of the order of goofing off in the woods, fucking among the
flowers, and the like—all quite harmless seeming and sometimes
rather charming. But it is a short step from this bucolicness to
Wagnerian heroics such as manifested in Leni Reifenstahl’s pre-Nazi
movies (particularly those she ‘starred’ in). The “Nature Worship”
proclivity coupled with ‘Hippies’ “anything goes,” “all is interest-
ing,” etc., makes for a dangerous social force because of the in-group’s
pretense there won’t ever be needed any scape-goat to sustain it—and
because it is a form of worship created by a group of people claiming
to be interested in something (rural countryside) they are not really
(in terms of living in it and off of it) interested in at all... just as
those who espouse:

(4) ‘“Anti-(Academic)-Art”

Each step removed from the original Dada Movement, each neo-
Dadaism, has had less and less to do with aesthetics: what started as
a protest by artists against Academic Artists has, thus, become the
protest of those disinterested in aesthetics against artists—it is a
typical pattern in the world of human affairs... it feeds on jealousy.
However, the roots of the proclivity are solidly located in the “First
Dada” which did, finally, hatch nothing more permanent than food
for teen-age polemics, etc. One must remember that the phrase of the
Nazi Art Minister: ‘Everytime I hear the word ‘Art’ I want to reach
for my revolver!”: could just as well have sprung from the lips of
Tristan Tzara or Andre Breton. Many such polemical jokes took on
nightmarish proportions in 30s Germany. All “Cultural Explosions”
have had their political equivilants and, thus, ultimate realization
in bombs: for the very idea of changing even a historical medium by
force is a barbarian concept seeking its sack. It begins with suck. all
those who would ask endless questions of artists, investigate their
home life, etc., looking for some short-cut to culture—rather than
attending the works of artists with any diligence required for com-
prehension. Masses of people whisking past paintings in museums,
listening to their Hi-Fi’s while talking on the telephone, and thumbing
thru poetry books produce a semblence of culture while effecting its
12EE RAKIAGE
destruction in themselves and as a concept, even, in the nation: they
will all, finally, prefer to be told what art is: and an anti-art move-
ment is the best clearing-grounds (“Explosion”) a future dictator has
for defining “Art” as anything BUT what it is. The New American
Cinema movement has, finally, backed the theatrical (one-time show-
ing) experience of films above (and to the expense of) any considera-
tion that would make it possible to view a film as a work of art. This
has played into the hands of ALL those who can best deaden the
sensibilities of people, thus use them, by defining art as “Escape” and
aesthetics as another form of:

(5) “Drugs”

The Nazis supplied drugs ‘openly’ to their secret cadres and ‘se-
cretely’ to the kiddies in the camps, etc. (later the soldiers, etc.)—for
it was found that a small amount of most of the ‘ine-ending’ drugs
running in the bloodstream makes it easy to channel energies mili-
tarily. It is evident that the extent to which anyone is ‘hooked’ by
anything is the extent to which he is vulnerable to amy kind of ‘hooker’.
It is my experience that the finest sensibilities kill themselves under
drugs: and the least sensitive humans desire to kill others. When any
society really manages to couple “Art” with drugging and drugs with
Religion”, the result is, inevitably a ‘Holy/WHOLLY WAR of
one kind or another. And no one has ever made a bomb, in actuality
(or of human sensibility), that they did not intend at some time or
other to explode (or exploit, thus). And those who plan these things
do usually do so in the name of:

(6) “PEACE”
Most people tend to forget, these days, that Hitler spoke pri-
marily for “PEACE” right up thru 1938—when that tack became too
ridiculous to continue ... tho’ he still tried it sporadically with the
U.S. into the early 4os. I have always, intuitively, been against The
Peace Movement as such—have always found it as martialed as any
military parade: and I am as opposed to those films that propagandize
for Peace as I am against ALL forms of propaganda. I’m no ivory
towerer; and I had hoped to have made clear, thru speech and “23rd
Psalm Branch” itself ONE idea, at least :that war is a natural disaster
and that the most promising hope of alleviating the misery thereof it
is by taking the most practical measures with regard to it—and that
SCRAPBOOK 133

these be in the area of those measures taken with regard to other natu-
ral disasters . . . the evacuation of civilians from the path thereof it,
the provision of economic means to rebuild the areas of destruction
its havoc has wrecked, etcetera. I see prayer as practical only insofar
as it engenders humans to be instruments of the kind of miracles which
can pass thru their benevolence: but I envision no more practicality
in shaking fists at blank or thundering skies—or presidents of govern-
ments—than in the indifference of ‘‘God-save-me”’/ or-‘“The-King”’
supplications which are not attended by inspiration-to-action ... thru,
say, lending one’s benevolence to the means at hand. Thus, I’m as
indifferent to peace marches (as is Pres. Johnson, obviously) as I am
to all religious ceremonies that end in themselves and/or the smug
or raging contentment of the congregation. Finally, it is only art that
seems to inspire individuals to actuality and, thus, acts of meaning:
and that is altogether an individual matter.
134 BRAKHAGE

TO ROBERT KELLY
Late Oct., 1967 talgic sadness, and yellow as basic but
also reflective of its psychological cow-
Dear Robert, ardly connotation, increasing with fear,
““: ... a close detailed study of psycho- by being even in its basicness a reflective
physiological response to all available of passivity): and the memory pictures
frequencies of light emission; . . .”— do seem to most to be “coming from
YES! ...: and your whole letter to elsewhere,” etcetera.
Barbara Rubin FULL of specifications
of specific need (that that’s so personal I found, while editing “23rd Psalm
it is uni-versal) . . . bump-pa-ty-bump Branch,” that if I pictured myself in a
(why do I always sound such German- scene I remembered, a scene in which I:
ness early in the morning —doth coffee was but had not actually seen myself
and the sun combat it, as the day draws mirrored when there, that that image of
on ?—on light?)—Oh my!, I’m shy with myself was always ‘remembered’ in a
you, dear Robert... even ina letter... pulse relative to my overall heart-beat
of the moment of remembering—usually
I’ll just write you about what I’m the ‘figure-of-myself’ flashed on and
doing and leave it to the Irish in you to faded out at about equally spaced inter-
draw charmed conclusions: vals (usually a little shy of a second
apart) ; and on questioning others (pre-
I think the mind’s eye’s electrical out- vious to stating my own experience), I
put to the backsides of its optic nerves found this rhythm of picturing-oneself-
does express itself in rhythm shifts, many in-a-remembered-scene to be basically the
clusters of same per the second, much as same for all persons so-questioned.
the ears hearing-of-innards is, if attended Then, a few nights ago, while editing
carefully enough and in relative ‘silence’« “Scenes From Under Childhood,” I
outside, audible as clusters of tiny beeps found this ‘law’ of rhythmic picturing
that are at first heard as smears of har- of self to be no more applicable when
monies that, if not heard well at all, I pictured myself as a child, nor applica-
sum-up in the listener’s in-attention as ble to memories more than a decade
tones (the dominant fifth Cage heard in past; but I also found that in picturing
the sound-proof chamber: but when I many friends of childhood (whom I had
asked him about this recently in Cincin- seen in the scene remembered) the pulse-
nati, he changed the wording from ‘law’ applied to my re-membering of
“tones” to “noise,” himself now hearing them—astonishing, yes? ... (is it that
much more than ‘scales even): the com- the act of memory creates ‘identification’
parable light-beeps of eye’s out-put do with others to such an extent that the
tend, thru colors (order of colors, in self becomes a stranger ?—wow!)
rapid flashes), to make the shapes of
closed-eye-vision which resolve into the I think there is some ‘short-circuit’ of
specific details of memory’s pictures; but, the light pouring into any eye, as it
at first, these multiple colored flashes dol ‘meets’ that person’s out-put/memory’s-
smear (for the inattentive) into over- discharge, and that we SEE in midst of
whelming color tones, (viz: red for a smoldering fire of cross-currents.
anger, green for jealousy, blue for nos-
Thigh Line Lyre Triangular
Clockwise:
circa 1967, photo Arnold Gassan;
1971, photo David Aschkenas;
1980, photographer unknown.
seein, Yipee
rere
rer yeah
Joann Tenney in Daybreak & Whiteye

Robert Benson in Blue Moses

23rd Psalm Branch
Prelude: Dog Star Man
Prelude: Dog Star Man
Short Films 1975 Fire of Water
SCRAPBOOK 135

TO ED DORN
Mid. Oct. 1967 politics plus heroics, etcetera ... and all
so much a part of American history/
I go out of this house sometimes with heritage (one can easily imagine identi-
an awful desperation-un-(to me)-nam- fying with him played by John Wayne).
able—and I drive as much, sometimes, as —The pool hall episode has not played
20 miles to find a bar where I can sit itself out, yet: and one difference in it
really alone in midst of strangers who'll IS that I, this time, went up to the man
leave me alone there in their midst (I I knew was about to speak to me andi
keep exhausting bars in this respect—in spoke to him first; bought him and his
hopes of gaining this respect) ; and I sit wife a drink, etc. (was I just buying
there, then (in this unfamiliar bar) and Time: I remember that when I was a
order always very much the same thing: kid, the little fat boy with glasses whom
a cheese burger with french fries and a everybody else was beating up on—and'
brandy alexander, or B & B, or just whose ugliness did deserve that—, I
plain brandy: (that attracts too much finally learned to steal in order to buy
notice already at scratch) ; and in midst candies and what-not for the bullies in
of often juke-box AND T.V. both blar- order to hire them, thereby, to protect
ing I eat and drink while reading some- me from others . . . soon, thus, became
thing like (as now) “The Education of the leader of an organized gang in
Henry Adams’: and I swear I don’t North Denver—actually cased joints/
know why: but after an hour or so of dime-stores, etc.—taught other kids how
this, I’m steady enough, nerves and mus- to shop-lift—took my cut—and the
cles all one solid/plastic piece, to go home whole bit .. . till suddenly I dropped it,
again... and, Ed, I never went to bars all of it, in one instant of accumulated
before in my entire life—I mean... not boredom, and began putting on plays in
ever as a continuum, like that. Finally, backyards and making comic books to
inevitably, I get intruded upon in each! sell, newspapers, etcetera): but the
bar (and I think always, for me, that’s other night, in the pool hall, any ball I’d
the moment secretly hoped for): but it sink was roundly treated as the miracle
does always turn out to be by way of it WAS: and yet I could see that three
some curious bastard who’s going to weeks’ diligence at the game would put
pump up his own ego at my expense, me par with those guys (tho’ not the
however devious the trail he takes to wife who deliberately loses, is obviously
that accomplishment: (however far encouraged to lose by her husband, who
afield in conversation, or actuality—as I even cheats, even obviously, to make his
went with one and his wife and friend point somehow: and I remembered
to the local pool hall for some games the when, as a kid, I learned the marble
other night—, he does always seem to game in order to win friends—soon won
have in mind the arrival at some suitably all the marbles—I’ve never been some-
lonely place for secret murder . . all how able to deliberately lose and have
justified, in his mind, I see, because I not, either, the natural ability of a loser
affronted him with “Brandy Alexander” —and lost all friends thereby...) ..
or book-reading, or my shyness, or some- you'll forgive the confusion of punctua-
such): John Houston’s a really BIG tion in all this, please—but then that’s
Time Killer, is he not —I mean... symptomatic of my actual state of con-
actual shoot-’em-up death figure plus fusion in this out-pouring ...: that I
136 BRAKHAGE

don’t somehow know how to make my phone away from me—I WAS magnifi-
point socially whatsoever—and can’t cent— ...and every time I began to lose!
seem anywhichway to give up trying: in the trade I’d switch the whole trans-
I’m due to go back to the pool hall with action to include swap of projector for
Jane, one of these nights: maybe she'll gun...: and finally, Ed, I walked out
manage to make the scene tangible, or of there with a brand new projector and
blow it sky-high if not.—I’d been think- a brand new camera ($1400.00 worth of
ing a lot about a gun, lately—wanting equipment, retail, for which I’d swapped!
one, like a’45... I mean, a very power- the two broken equipments and $400.00
ful pistol, Luger or somesuch—(with a —the last of all we had in the bank—)
lot of excuses, such as, well I remember . it was FANTASTIC: (and I
you pointing at that ex-army truck across know they only let me get away with it
the street and telling me about the Poca- because I was fucking up their whole
tello Minute Men: “If that son-of-a- “Hunting Season Sale” and had finally
bitch has access to armaments you better tied up and exhausted salesmen and
... etc.: and Colo. is, you know, a customers alike, including The Boss
gathering place for those troops: the ((whom I had to respect as the only
Minute Men have an actual machine other living man I there encountered:
gun factory—where they make them— I mean I saw him alive like a snake,
not 20 miles from our cabin up Coal absolutely dedicated to what he was
Creek Canyon, etc.: and then it is the doing/business but with all the coils in
hunting season here (and our dog is coils of him LIVING in the crazy life
missing two weeks—tho’ in the pool hall of that endeavor))): (and I came away
they told me many local dogs had been with the sense I could have done that
got by the increased predator population, too: been a business-man/gangster, etc.;
coyotes, wolverines, bob-cat, even bear, I mean, I re-experienced in myself how-
and that the hunters-human were all that it-is-done/piling-up-millions, etc.; ((and
would “‘save us” from “‘a very dangerous I know they still probably made a hun-
winter,” etc. . . . all that confusion— dred bucks’ profit out of me, etc.))).
what to fell paranois about—etc.): and
The Times, The Times (sad as always I have no real sense of Nat’l:
when capped, sadder yet when FULLY I meet nation as an -ality working its
capped as THE TIMES) ... The other way thru the killers of the local bars or
day I took my six-months old camera stores, or those more subtle killers of the
which was already breaking down and public schools that keep operating on my
my utterly un-running Victor projector kids—cutting them up anaesthetically.
into a sporting goods store where I’d But in our house, here, we raise a 6-foot
bought the former; and I was utterly tomato plant, with real reddening toma-
determined to get my rights in trade-in toes on it, a 4-foot peach tree at the head
and come home with two workable pieces of Jane’s split-logtable, a lemon tree that
of machinery or to walk out of there smells more essence of lemon than all
with a gun; and I argued for FOUR those I’ve bought in stores in my whole
HOURS, collected an enormous crowd life, an apple tree, coleus, parsley, mint,
of curious customers, forced my way up- and a terrarium with tiny mountain
stairs to the almost impregnable office orchids: and the kids do dance and sing
of The Boss, stormed back downstairs, (when they’ve un-bent from school) and
called the camera company in New Jer- roll naked on the floor and play with
sey while they kept trying to take the their shit and pots and pans (and toys,
SCRAPBOOK 137

all the same) and talk a blue streak of tapestries and table and stain-glass win-
lightning imagination: and I do photo- dow and recorder playing and loving
graph all of it I can and pour the strips altogether make it all, herein, somehow
of it into “Scenes From Under Child- possible,
hood”: and Jane’s thumb-greenness and Blessings,
eRe
138
THE STARS ARE BEAUTIFUL
1) There’sa wall there, a great dark wall with holes in it; and behind the
wall is an enormous fire of white flame.

2) Thestarsare entirely in the eyes of those who look at the sky. If no one
is looking at the sky, it is utterly dark. But the stars in the eyes are very
much the same in all eyes; and those looking at the sky at the same time are
all participating in the kinds of communication that have to do with stars.

3) It’sa great roof studded with sequins. The movement of the stars 1s in
relationship to the movement of the sun, giving the impression that the
stars are moving across the sky.

4) The stars are optical nerve endings of the eye which the universe 1s.

5) Sparks from a train of God’s thought.

(I have one big toe in bronze and the other in eternity.)

6) There is such an intense brightness that we can’t really see it. The sky
is really burning white and the stars are black. The daytime is less bright
and therefore the yellow, that is really there in daytime, we see as blue. The
sun we see as yellow: ’'ts really blue-black. That that we see as blue sky is
burning away the black spot of the sun; and the sky at night is burning
away at the black stars.
(Novalis has seen the sun as black, and so has everyone who has closed
his or her eyes on it. Retention colors are the only true colors.)

7) The stars are sparks from lightning.

8) The stars are the loopholes into 256 dimensions.

9) The fact is, the earth is falling into a well. The sun is the top of the
well, the blue sky the walls. The stars are reflections of the real stars
behind the sun.

10) Itisa furry animal. The stars are silver hairs.

11) The sky isa cylinder to the moon.

12) The sky is all together, not composed in such great distances as we
SCRAPB
3 OOK. 9
suppose. In truth, it is an old fire. The stars are small sparks, the sun a
burning coal. The black of the sky at night is ashes, the moon a bubbling
drop of water. This is the same with us, i.e.: as the universe burns, so do
we. Our heads contain water very much like the sky holds moons. The
burning in us keeps the water in our heads boiling and sputtering.

13) The sky is the dead decaying body of God; the stars are glittering
maggots.

14) It is the back of a blue dragon; and we are the eye of the dragon,
watching him die. The sun is the blood-hole.

15) The sky is a cup of tea which the earth drinks every day, then at
night inverts the cup to read the leaves.

16) The sky isa lens of air magnifying a single atom of itself.

17) [There was one of these stories that I liked but didn’t believe; so
neither Jane nor I could remember it. |

18) [This one’s fairly traditional]: The sun is the ejaculation of the penis
in the vagina of the universe. The stars are the sperm searching for the
eggs of moons.

19) The universe is part of a vast brain, the stars the firing of brain cells
— each a visualization of the bark of a dog, i.e.: when a dog barks, the
response in the ear ofthe sky is a star; when a dog howls, the response is the
moon. The sun is where everything else goes to a further place or places;
and we really don’t know what happens there.

20) The stars are trembling silver strings to everyone’s brains. The sun
and moon are the eyes of the great puppeteer...Once a month he smiles
and winks: He has control of our fates.

21) The day-sky is a pool of all our tears: the world is getting smaller
and smaller. The night-sky is a blotter to all our black thoughts: there 1s
very little space left.

22) The sky is the low-water beach on which are left phosphorescent
plankton which will grow to be enormous beasts.

23) Light is everywhere; and the sky draws everything to it that we

140
40 SS OE BRAKHAGE
ee

make. For instance, it draws our air and condenses it, ’till it becomes black
with our breathing; and it draws water in gigantic drops, which we see as
stars. It draws the earth in streams till it blazes golden; and finally it draws
all our fire into the ash of the moon.

24) The earth isa pool of brown watery waves in a forest of trees we see
as stars near a golden bird flying after its white mate.

25) The stars are clear sounds; the sun a magnificent silence; the moon!
. whispers that are almost sounds in the undulating wave of noise the
universe 1s.

26) The sky is the solid state of time; the sun? . . . its emergence; the
moon, the tube it all falls into. The stars are the fragments that never move
on.

27) God, taking pity on those who stop smoking, made the stars to look
like so many cigarettes burning, the clouds to look like smoke, the sun to
remind them of the striking of a match, and the moon in the shape of a
filter tip.

28) The night sky isa fold-over-pattern of the sun. The moon isa visual
echo.

29) The stars area flock of hummingbirds. If you look closely, you can
see their wings flickering. The sun and moon are their flowers.

30) Thesun, moon, and stars are the footprints of God (we are his head)
as he walks currently ina circle.

31) Everything’s happening at once; but the sky is a clock and makes it
look like things are happening one at a time.

32) The stars and the moonare reflections of the sun which can’t be seen.

33) Once upon a time, long long ago there was in the sky at night only
the moon —as even now in the day there is only the sun. Then some wise
men projected into the night sky hieroglyphs of their thoughts so that
everyone who looked, after that, would know those thoughts and be wise
also.

34) The stars are the places where snowflakes are made; each star has a
SCRAPBOOK 14]

different shape and makes a different shaped snowflake. When the

snowflakes fall from the stars, they shrink and become changed in shape;
and thus every snowflake also is a different shape.

35) The stars are the broken fragments of the mirror that reflects
reality.

36) Big dust motes.

37) The nets are boiling.

Narrative script circa 1967 (as transcribed by Jane Brakhage, night after
night of their telling).
—C—SSCSC‘“‘(CCBRAKHAGE
wz
ANGELS
... move thru the qualities of shadow in a diffraction of the light—
the doors of illumination / home of angelical forces (as George
MacDonald would have it: “... home... is the only place where
you can go out and in.”)...
... and the shadows of shadows are the shadows of angels...
. and the fixed instants of constantly changing shapes are the pic-
tures they take of themselves:
a smoke pattern in the hearth’s wall,
a cloud held in the mind’s eye,
a facein tree leavesees,
. all that we call psychological projections are the movies of the
angels—
the home movies of angels are qualities of light held as if in mid
air—
any gathering of dust motes in the light records the passage of
angels:
for they do itch in the lungs when the
soul is troubled;
and they scour the hideout of the soul’s
enclosure;
and they seize the brain in the body’s
fitfullness:
and we do sneeze them out—
cough up whole angels—
sweat ephemeral motes—
bite off tongues for blood speech—
roll upon the ground and die for them,
make mirrors,
fresh motes,
maps of passage...
.. and the angels, thus, feed upon decay and are the leeches of all
thatiweecalleevil! em
...and they occur to the mind as a rising in the bake of any thought
cake—
physical fevers do levitate them surely—
thoughts of/in repetition attempt to trap them,
for we would feed upon angel food
cake
lo 5, 1968
SCRAPBOOK
Se
e e 143
tt—‘(‘C‘tSA;:

(the barococo of sweet Bach’s awful

hunger) /
(gentle Gertrude Stein having her cake
and eating it too—
the residue:
SL Nerests=no
repetitions.)
. . In which—the angels move .. . up and down the ladders of lan-
guage ... without moving—
out of whtch—comes the nervous endings... this: is it Asmodei,
as H. D. would have it? :
‘‘the second of the genies zodiacaux,
to whom one may cry,
exhaussez mon incantation, ma priére...
raise up, lift up, receive my recognition,
and this at last, with no reservation,” :
(and is this that Asmodeus I came to know?...
angel of asthma ?—
and is that why I cried reading “Hermetic Definitions”?/
could not, in my whole life, go beyond:
‘what has the word done?
you include but in small grandeur,
inérwhole circle of thesunt” ). <%
... within which: the beg in beginnings / the thrown up pun—
all of undigestible language the angels feed upon: these distinctions
of vision:
that / thus:
the dimension of angels is a tensor—
the reality of angels is a surety—
the grasping of angels is as a disjointed leg and a blessing for,
poor Jacob—
the handling of angels is as the hand feels itself,
in transformation,
surely moving,
tOnitsscndsaane
. and the angels of fingers can be seen in the bend of light when
the tips almost touch and wherein (aura?) they seem to be touch-
In open
. and the angel of auras (the guardian angel’) can be seen after
staring at a yellow sheet of paper and then looking to the naked body
of another .
144 BRAKHAGE

... and the guardian angel of self (angels of eyes? / angle of ego? /
anguish of soul?) can be the actor of seeing itself,
as I impersonates each eye
(to see the moving yellow
of all angels of the sky as
some stilled blue),
as I’ll an isle become
(to bend the rays of sun’s
set into renaissance perspective
for ego’s grasp of the angel
of the dying of the light),
annihilation...
...and the angel at the gate of Eden is viz-ability itself...
... and its sword is the word of God—is the word of sword—
is the knowledge of shape that makes a circle of the sun...
...and the flames thereof it are that stolen light whereby the mind’s
eye projects its pictures—its flickerings those rhythms of thought
itself—its fuel the decay of vision into the smoke of memory...
and:
angels move thru the qualities of smoke in a diffraction of the
shadow of light—
the doors of darkness / home of angelical forces (as my wife
Jane has shown me, in my mind’s eye, the strands of light that stream
from the shadow cast by her head) ...
... and the halos of halos are the halos of angels...
SCRAPBOOK 145

TO SIDNEY PETERSON
Feb. 15, 1968 heat waves) does condition the editing
Dear Sidney Peterson, in such a way as to throw all film aes-
thetics back on painting, aesthetics of
I’m writing very much out-of-the- painting . . . something like: slightly
blue/grey here—it’s been 6 or 7 years moving pictures emerging from and dis-
since we’ve had a good talk—and very solving into “blanks’’ of colored ‘leader.’
much INto remembrance: I did always Then there are, in concentrated mem-
very much depend upon the past-wise of ory act, interruptive flashes of various
those few meetings we had... your colors that seem to come in rhythmic
critical faculty (certainly in viewing my ‘blocks’ which seem to denote specific
work) unsurpassed!—some few com- emotion responses. To be general about
ments of yore(s) serving for years. it—red/anger, blue/sadness (blue-grey/
nostalgic-sadness), green/jealousy, yel-
I’m living now in an 1890 cabin in a low/cowardice, etc. . . . the degrees of
‘ghost’ town on the slopes of The Con- color, color mixture etc., shifting these
tinental Divide—an almost embarass- emotions into their subtleties while the
ingly symbolic place to be in times like rhythms of their flashings seem to qual-
these—: but the advantages of this ify their means (meanings) in relation
placement far outweigh the dis-ads (tho’ to each other and to the image being in-
the weight of such is mostly upon my voked (envisioned) : all of which throws
back, viz: I am forced to deal with all film aesthetics back on music, aesthetics
old socs., the race war, the raze, the war, of music. As I begin to into-it, there’s
etceterrrrrr, as is- YOUS?, i.e.—in terms a felt-trap, for film, in all such deep-
of the proclivities raised in me, since endency upon t’other arts: but I can’t
child hood . . . that is, I have no con- seem to intellect it nor quite (physiologi-
venient scape-goat to kick OUT at, no cally speaking) put my finger upon it!
sets of externalizations peopling my The question IS: what are the gen-
streets, nothing more tangibly outside eralized dangers of one art’s as lapped
me than natural catastrophy: broken on another’s? To be specific: where do
trees, avalanches, snow-drifts, thunder/ you find the ice thin on Pound’s pro-ing:
lightning and the like. “Music rots when it gets too far from
the dance. Poetry atrophies when it gets
I am working on a long color and too far from music.”? I realize I’m ask-
sound film called SCENES FROM ing you to shoot in the dark; and, to alle-
UNDER CHILDHOOD: and your viate that a little, I’ll include a strip from
exposition on “Blanks” in my work an earlier 8mm film (‘“The Kids” section
(black/white leader in “Dog Star Man,” of 15 SONG TRAITS) trusting you
etc.) and your statement that “there are can read a strip of film still as well as
essentially two kinds of sound, mood- any musician a sheet of music. Therein
music and lip-sync” are still sharp cut- (that strip) you have interruptive flashes
ting tools in the endeavor . . . problem of shaking-static images: make a theme
IS: the actual statics of childhood mem- and variations of it in your good mind’s
ory (the essential ‘stillness’ of childhood eye and, also, imagine long spanches of
scenes remembered—all movement, true these colors fading in and out. What’s
to the act of memory,—very limited, as the catch could lock film in?: spring
if a set of scrapbook pics. were seen thru this -thetic if you can! _ Blessings,
146 BRAKHAGE

TO BRUCE BAILLIE
lst week Jan., 1969

Dear Bruce,

For years I have been planning to use the footage of yr. newsreel film of
“Brakhage leaving S.F.” in my autobiographical work “The Book of The
Film.” Yesterday morning, while searching out material for the “lst chapter’
(“Scenes From Under Childhood”) of that work, I came across yr. film—
looked at it carefully...; later I said to Jane: “You know, I think I'll leave
Baillie’s film intact in ‘The Book’. . . even when Baillie fails to—well, achieve
clear balance (what you might call ‘Art’), he DOES manage such a forcefully
clear statement...statement of visual-fact language, say...that it seems
impossible, to me, to break it up—even verbally, let alone to re-
order/translate his images: I’ll just have to find my most meaningful setting for
his whole piece within ‘The Book’, and let it go at that.”
Well, it’ll probably be years before I get to the chapter of “The Book of The
Film” where this decision will apply, if it does; but by that evening, yesterday
evening, I was up against another visual fact-state of yours, that film gift you
sent in a can marked “Show Leader” (also marked “Poison,” with a scattering
of other markings, numbers, etc.) and shaken to the very roots of my being by
the overwhelming power of this filmice (yes, the pun is right—cold crystalline
surety that prompted my unconscious to add an “e” to filmic... and the other
pun, too, “mice,” hones in as express of those scurrying greys within which yr.
frost-scapes — Apollo, the mouse-god, dominates my mind’s reception of this
theme in yr. work). I had not been in any hurry to look at it, as the marking on
the can made me think it was the “Show Leader” of yrself bathing happily
naked in a stream, turning to the camera and saying “Hi,” “Hello!”, whatever
as you wave to the lens, the picture-take; and thus, thinking I had seen the film
many times, I was simply waiting for a good opportunity to show it to Jane. Can
you imagine my surprise when the film you did send unrolled before my eyes? I
almost passed out. Well, this film piece of yrs. —one of the most powerful
visual statements I’ve ever seen—prompts this letter from me... moves me to
give you back literally, in my most UNhesitant language, some express of all
those feelings I’ve been having, in my worrying, abt. you, yr. illness, yr. total
living situation (since I visited you a couple months ago)—and to risk this
outpouring of language even tho’ I may be utterly mistaken: (I have been
mistaken abt. you, yr. work, before, you know: and I have refused to ever
judge a film contest again principally beCAUSE I mis-judged yr. “To Parsifal”
in that L.A. film fest. years ago...wrote you a letter at the time, if you
remember, torturing the question of its aesthetics —that beautiful film which
SCROBECOK@MNE LT
means more and more to me, now, every viewing: timidity because of this gross
error years ago has caused me to bite-my-tongue, and typewriter keys, in
addressing you these many months now): but now I must write you what I
feel/think .. . only hoping to be helpful to you—and trusting your strength to
resist whatever, of this, may be stupidity on my part:
At beginning of this film-piece—which, I assume, is from “Feet Fear,” as
the total image-feeling is kin to those previous sections I saw in Kalamazoo—
... at beginning, then, you assume the mask of that lordly drunk, weather and
alcohol seam/sear-scarred face, near end of “Quixote”... you stare into the
lens, which becomes your mirror, in a series of gestures and movements which
almost exactly parody those of, say, a young woman preening before her glass
to assure self of the appropriateness of a new hat, mask, dress, whatever —it is
a terrifying series of metaphorical movements: the glass (the camera’s wide
angle image) is snuffed out (and I immediately recalled how you would, did
constantly, avert your eyes from mine in our last meeting); but the continuity
metaphor is that the glass breaks up into a series of sea-waves, dissolve then of
foam into what is surely your totem animal (all thru yr. work): the sea-gull. . .
flights of sea-gulls, then singular gull, then falling star (spot of street light,
actually) which evokes the quarter moon in its passage —the clouds tearing at
even this rind of some full circular moon: and the following series of shots
carries this metaphor thru in terms of shadow block between/twixt the camera
lens and its imaging the sea... shadows of houses (or house-like structures)
and then finally the sharply clear, indifferent-(seeming) profile of a man/
(woman?)—no, most surely a man (is this Paul Tully?) eating, drinking then—
the spot of light on his glasses fixing the (previously felled) star at moon’s
(previous) place... his total profile blocking view’s passage to the sea: (is it
that Tully, or someONE, then, both blocks your sea-life, your gull-flight,
while yet serving to stop your Fall at moon’s phase?: _:and, if so, consider—
does he save you from death (or that loneliness/death’s-life-symptom your
singular gull evokes)?...or does he keep you from going THRU some death-
consciousness (acceptance of loneliness) to/re(newed) LIFE, your resurrec-
tion (as is the blessing of Totem Worship, when followed THRU)?
My first terror at your situation came from a comment on the tape (sent to
Kalamazoo) suggesting your desire—and I quote—‘“‘to go beyond Art”...:
this, for an artist, is tantamount to saying: “I want to die!” Religion (ANY
Religion in this century’s time) does act on Western sensibility ALWAYS in
terms of “Beyond”: (and, as such, is as clear a blasphemy of the tradition of
god worship as is, for instance, ““Xmas” —spelled every year more & more that
way —a black mass of the celebration of Christ’s birth): AND, as such, “Reli-
gion” has proved THE most destructive force against artist sensibility —has,
in all my experience, tended to tear The Artist schizophrenically apart
as EEE RAKE
(schizo-phrenic: :broken hearted)...Maya Deren, her Voodoon ‘beyond-
ness’... Vanderbeek, his god of technolog y ‘beyondness’ the term “com-
—the
munication’ can ONLY mean to an artist sensibility—: perhaps the clearest
track of this destruct-impulse in contemporary western art sensibility is
mapped in Parker Tyler’s magnificent biography of the painter Tchelitchew:
“The Divine Comedy of Pavel Tchelitchew”; Tchelitchew up against Heaven
‘beyond’ geometry, beyond the spaces between geometrical creativity, beyond
creative evocation. .. and THAT after having slogged his way masterfully thru
Hell AND Purgatory—most only manage Hell, even as ‘beyondness’ (say,
Artaud) in our time.
And I am, in all honesty, fiercely ANGRY at the wastage these Romanti-
cisms (this 19th century “neuresthenic dark of the Circe-world and its Hell-
like cul-de-sac,” as Davenport puts it)—the wastage these devil’s tricks of the
romance of madness, illness, drugs... the wastages this trap effects in 20th
century sense-ability/response-ability to Life—: and I am angry too at the
particulars of the form of it you, Bruce, seem to me to be inflicting upon
yourself—the Tibetanzen-Orient-a-shun drift be-yon-(east)-der TACK yr.
tape comments seem to suggest you are taking...: and I am angry at the
UNreality-(Be-seeming to me) of your Ducks, the neurosis of your Dogs—the
fact that I can’t even remember whether you have a cat or not (and Cat is my
Totem animal, you know)... and that your horses (which DO seem to me, from
that visit, to have real touch with you, your ground, etc.) move in the mind as,
and ONLY as, in a Dream Of, etc. —: and I am even annoyed at yours/Tullys
weighted/(EMphasized) Southwestern drawl (and I have an ear for that lingo at
source) ...: am angry because I could NOT seem to get in even brief eye touch
with any tangibility of you on your farm during that visit —all as if in a shift of
eyes, scenes, animal stances, verbal postures (and I do, you know, live on
something like a farm myself, surrounded by winds-of-the-sea, sea sounding
right now, animals, spaces fixing some distances, etc. and whatever verbal
provincialism blows my way...am not, thus, at odds with the air of country
retreat, etc.) —: and I am mostly angry that I cannot even determine whether or
not illness weakens the believability of your being, whether your sickness is
the major mover of your scenic environs, or whether it is the other way
round... whether, perhaps, the Set-to of your circumstances does force (con-
tinuing) illness upon you—does force you to assume the mask of (thus prop-
agating the very real) illness.
The triumph of your ART, as/ see it, does convince me of the latter of the
two above possibilities: and, thus, the film piece you sent convinces me to risk
the terrible presumptuousness of this letter in spilling out all my worst fears
since our last meeting —the WORST fear being... : fear of that most danger-
ous self-indulgence which love-of-death IS: I fear it in myself and thus abhor it
SCRAPBOOKS
in others: (I, too, did toy with the suicide of myself in the make of “Anticipation
of the Night’— and insistence on the actual Dream thereof, that self-
indulgence of Posture, making presently a Past Statuesque of oneself, did mar
the ending of that film...as you should know; and I did again perform such
colossal selfishness during one whole summer in midst of editing “The
Dead” —tho’, thankfully, didn’t edit until I was fully well again and could,
therefore, salvage out-going/growing sensibility from the experience):...
well—try to cut thru all this verbiage, the garbled struggles against my timidity
(my other fear of misunderstand/interfering with your life, your work), to the
simplest meaning of this letter: it is a GET WELL card... albeit fraught with
the perils of advice —advice which is fashioned out of my own limited experi-
ences (inadequate, thus, to even meet the contingencies of my coming life, let
alone yours, dear friend —ah, how I wish you were more my friend, that I knew
you better, that I did not have to so-much guess at your being in this attempt to
help you—I do not know if you even need, let alone want, my advice... : yet,
surely, you DO want at least my views —what more direct appeal could there
BE, to me, than that of the incredible film-piece you sent?—: and, asfilm-
maker then (where I’m surely on firmer ground for response), I can state that
film-piece — magnificent as it is in its terrifying power—does absolutely need a
counter-balance measure...of some equal power prompted by life-giving
forces... to qualify its part, of whatever whole, as being something more than
Posure — that particularity of Drama which, say, Selfish-Play/Masterbation is:
(Orpheus must not believe in the Games of Hell. . . let him, rather like Gluck’s
Orfeo turn to Amor to restore his wife/life — or at least let him seek Persephone
rather than Circe in those dark regions): let the ‘verse’ of my GET WELL card
be Wittgenstein’s:
“In brief, the world must thereby become quite another. It must so to speak
wax or wane as a whole.
“The world of the happy is quite another than that of the unhappy.
“As in death, too, the world does not change, but ceases.
“Death is not an event of life. Death is not lived through.
“If by eternity is understood not endless temporal duration but timeless-
ness, then he lives eternally who lives in the present.
“Our life is endless in the way that our visual field is without limit.”
(from “Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus”)

Even in writing ‘as film-maker,’ I can be quite wrong (as I once was, as judge,
of your “To Parsifal”)—my danger is, perhaps, some tendency to make a
god...a ‘beyond’... of Art...: if I have misunderstood — please forgive me
these, then, presumptions; and correct me apropos the following:
the simplest part of your message seems to be that this “Anthology Cinema”
no EEA AGE
is too much for you to take on at this time —that you have accepted that position
only out of your willingness, as always, to do everything you can to be of help to
others... your counter-balancing selflessness that, often with you, over-
extends yourself to meet the needs of whomever: I think you have your hands
and your FEET-FEAR FULL, at the moment; and I am going to move to ‘let you
off the hook’ of this coming N.Y. stress-session (as I would have at Kalamazoo,
too, if ’'d known how difficult that trip was for you to consider). As I suggested
you, in the first place (thus got you into this additional strain on your capac-
ities), I'll take the responsibility of insisting that Broughton be the “west coast
representative” until such time as you ASK to be consulted and included in
these matters; and I’ll risk this (perhaps further presumption) because I’m
afraid your reluctance to disappoint anyone’s request —that beautiful graci-
ousness of yours—is among your worst enemies at the moment... in that
thoughtfulness of the needs of others may act to distract you from some much-
needed kindness-to-self (quite an opposite from self-indulgence). Anyway,
you can let me know if I err here by simply insisting on being included in that
Feb. gathering: thus I, who did the first insisting that you BE the “west coast
representative” now veto that recommendation and, thereby, leave the matter
more surely in your hands, in the future.

Jan. 15, 1969

Dear Bruce,

What a relief / yr. letter of assurances: I feel ‘in touch’ with you again; and,
more importantly, I feel yr. clear sensitivity to yrSELF: in midst reading the
letter, Jane said: “Oh!...1 like him!”; and, as we talked about it later, she
specified her admiration thus: “..that Bruce does get to ‘the heart of the
matter’ immediately —and that he takes what he can USE of your letter and,
then, leaves you free of any responsibility for the rest of it.”
Okay —so...: I’m honored to be yr. “theatre”: and it is of great help to me,
too. ’'m right now in midst one heaven-of-a period of transition—MUST
articulate!...thus cut all possible ‘cackle’ out of the work process: sharing
with you something of your developing vision (which is SURPRISINGLY yet
naturally/of-course along the same lines) suddenly like having TWO eyes for
scanning the landshape instead of one: and I'll keep coming back at you as
flat/blunt as I’m able —so that we don’t run any danger, in this exchange, of a
depth-cage, INflu, and/or the complexities of perspectacles (i.e.: so that you
don’t come to think of me as your glasses into The Renaissance, western
cultch-klatch or somesuch...I mean, I do wax a little wan/aesthetical
sometimes — but By Zantium!, I’ll try to keep the talk flat as a movie screen and
straight as a beam of light, spreading OUT/TO focus!)
SCRAPBOOK 15!

Okay, THEN/now: your latest section appears transitional — beautifully

thus... as in daily living (you know: _ :like eating, walking: but, more specifi
cally, the hesitancies of the finger, the hand poised as thought’s tool over
something other than the food, or as stomach’s extension then to crack a nut,
the foot pause, etc.); but it also unreels like a drum roll—at first a muffled
beat, drawn from these hesitant movements, and then with the solidity of the
walking: this underscores the whole with an ominous feeling. . . at first eerie,
in contradiction to the catch of colored light on food, the quietude of the table
top, and then later fortified by the grays and blacks and molten shapes of rock
and the more absolute rythmn of walking and working thru to a martialed,
almost rat-tat-tat-tat (as the rythmns at frames’ edge begin to show, as they DO
when the central image looses clutter of rock, and its heaviness of beat, in the
overall texture of sand), as you walk onto the beach): (I wonder why I add “‘n” to
oe. 99

semblance of a quality of the pulse you've got into this section —some dragging
hummmmm, maybe? —ah, yes!, something like the quality of smoothness of,
say, the photographed walking: how DID you achieve that technical vir-
tuosity?...: it is, yes, walking; but it is as if a thousand pounds of, yes,
organism were ambulating across the surface of the moon). Dramatically, this
(Sec. #43) creates that kind of tension which often haunts human living —all is
well, bathed in a good light (sun, in this case, but sometimes of a quality of
cozy electric or contained fire light). . . the happenstance and occurences calm
and common to daily experience—yet over all a quality of foreboding dread
begins to build inexorably (and inexplicably in these circumstances) thru each
moment of living, making seconds merge into some momentum as small waves
do into the whole pull of the river approaching Falls: the most frightening (and
lastingly memorable) haunts, of this type, in my living are those which pass
away as mysteriously as they came (thus giving no climax/sense, thereby, of
what was fore-boded): I await eagerly your next reel—in a way like I used to
await next Saturday’s chapter of the movie serial...only MORE thus
beCAUSE the adventure of your film is of the world as I daily experience it—
rather than that world of the imagination as I fancy it.
Pll return your two rolls today (with some reluctance selfishly, I might add —
it’s so good to have something specific of you in this house. . . and I'll repeat my
request we swap some film prints for keeps—tho’ maybe this film-in-progress
is, by the so-far looks of it, the one I ought to wait-for). I wish I could send you
some of my work-in-progress, of the moment; but it is all tangled up in ABC
rolls: once each string of it weaves its way into the total basket, even/ can’t see
it until it is printed. Wait!... maybe I can send you the completed section of
“Scenes From Under Childhood” (it is Section #2 I’m now working on)—T'll
let you know in a couple days. Anyway, it is close to your work (& now, & from
now on, as ‘in touch’ as I am): and one of the most exciting approximations in
a EEEEEESERARBAGE
this involvement with the-scene-as-photographed, relatively free of Edit’s
Intellect and/or the SUPERimposition of the process of memory upon each
instant of living: you, as I, seem to be taking strong advantage of film’s most
unique possibi lity of the track of light in the field of vision (thus
—preservation
the each move ofthe visionary) at the/each instant of photographing: I now find
myself solidly see-er of my photography, rather than Editor thereOF it: but this
inspiration—in the work process —exists in the incredible tension of my feel-
ing an equal need to let Memory COLOR each unedited light track. . . via “B”
and “C” rolls generally... and SHAPE both objects and spaces. . . by way of
compounding pics. /spaces, rather than superimposing upon them —again BC
stuffing mostly: sometimes I even compress, by additives; and I do, then,
tremble on the edge of superimposition: and, let’s face it, sometimes I still
just-plain-superimpose, as always, also: but the general DRIVE is one in
honor of the moment of photography, so that there’s very little shifting of the
orders of shots within a sequence, and very little cutting of lengths of shot
either. Actually, I’ve worked (more subconsciously) in this area of direction
many times before (“‘Desistfilm” —THAT far back —““Daybreak & Whiteye,”
“Films by S. B.,” the “T. V. Concretes,” many “Songs” and many sequences of
‘Scenes From Under Childhood,” Sec. #1): and it’s coming to seem to me that
“Scenes From Under Childhood” on its primary visual level IS a track of the
evolution of SIGHT: thus its images flash out of blanks of color, thru fantastic
distorts/twists of forms and orders (those fantasies wherein one imagines
oneself: even suggesting those “pre-natal fantasies” wherein Freud, to his
dispair, finally found that unanalysable nest hatching all basic neurosis),
space/shape absolutely dominated by the rhythms of inner physiology, then
shaking like jellied masses at first encounters with outers, the beginning of
The Dance, shattering OUT of even memory’s grip thru TO some exactitude of
sight/light... FROM, as Pound puts it: “Eyeless that was, a shade, that is in
hell”: thru: “Light lights in the air”: TO, at least: “‘as the sculptor sees the
form in the air... /‘as glass seen under water’”:

and saw the waves taking form as crystal,

notes as facets of air,
and the mind there, before them, moving,
so that notes needed not move.
(from The Cantos)

...and evoking Pound minds me of “The Anthology Cinema,” which does

very directly tie-in with all these my currents of creation. . . (I mean aside from
your being in N.Y. in Feb.—since Broughton forwarded your note, I’ve
decided to take your original word for it, viz: that you want to come: and that I
may or may not see you there in Feb... okay?): that this “tension” is part and
SEeoCO
EE O@MM
SSE
parboil of the whole Western soup—that “realism” (rounding of shapes in
space) which Giotto gets blue ribbon for and/or versus that flat-hatch of
history/memory-’s compounds the Sienese (Sassetta at best, first, for me) carry
on out of the so-called “Dark” (pre-natal) “Ages,” etc. : those who seem (within
this tradition) to solve and resolve it within themselves/their work, like Fra
Filippo Lippi, DON’T seem to get noticed for that accomplishment (the world
wouldn’t probably remember him if he hadn’t been such a naughty monk and
got writ-up by Browning): it’s as if The West, insistent upon some joust or
continual box match, hadn’t time for The Dance: and the U. S., all See-uneasy
bent, at the moment (right-wingers abt. to fling Wyeth at Warhol, or West
Coast at East ONLY via “The Figure,” etc.), overlooks the whole Dance of
American Art, betting on Ryder out of all proportion, on the one hand, and
Currier and Ives on the other: (this drive in U. S. —to have art as a sport in the
European sense —once drove Washington Allston into Frenhofer’s comer... :
he worked 35 years on one painting unfinished at death which, when unveiled,
was proclaimed a mass of nothing... drove Morse—who had a BEAUTIFUL
resolve in his painting —OUT of art and into invention of the telegraph. . . and
drove the whole Hudson River School into that same obscurity of social regard
P. Adams would like to dump D. W. Griffith into—and for the same rea-
sons: :the feeling of “cornballness” American viewers associate when con-
fronted with their own grandeur—each ring of provincialism terrifying U.S.ns
we've strayed too far from Mamma, Europa, DaDa, etc...: thus lower east
N.Y. provincialism passes this prejudice as smartly as any import will—it
having been brought over almost piecemeal from DaDa’s turn-of-the-cent
dinner table): well, (aside from this Atlantic spat... and no wonder the west
coast wants to drift off and join The Orient), we’ve got the “agenbite of inwit”
schemmmmin’ & schaunnnnnen’ within U. S., too: and the line grows thick”
(degenerate, as Pound sees it) out of the 13th century push of, say, Winslow
Homer, beyond all proportion, until you get to the fragments of the line —what
the line is, finally, made-up-OF/pointillism-crystalline-space-tracks, the
interior world where lines are —as IS their only existence — imagined: but what
holds true (to physiology) there to, say, Jackson Pollock does ALSO hold true
for any several-inch section of Andrew Wyeth...: HooRAH], as I see it,
we’ve, U.S.ns, taken on the whole thick line at source—and naturally, thru
the whole history. . . (heaven, hell too, help me SEE that whole Main —betwixt
the X-streams—Street; and help me be Seer of it as tracked naturally with
camera so that it can be/MOVE across my work table thoughtfully): and may
we at least Purgate our way thru SOME sense of film’s history of it and,
thereby, better shape The Anthology Cinema.
With that prayer I’ll end this (perhaps too much historial/terical) fuss...
and extend —
Blessings
AKG
14
Feb. 2, 1969

Dear Bruce,

Well!. .. the 25 ft. of yr. roll 46 and the full 47 contain as perfect a weave of
metaphorical harmony and supportive color tonality ’'ve ever seen in film—
and they have to, in order to carry the dramatic weight of yr. Uncle-Sam-like
mask against the textures of the beach: you’d never ‘get away with’ that
Bandmaster, this side of Surrealism, unless he operated in as tight a knit as
you’ve composed for him. . . : but he(you?) is not Surreal —that’s the miracle—
nor the metaphors dramatically obvious, either.
First, you’ve an over-exposed — yet carrying yellow —beach piece upper left
frame, answered/echoed by the dark blue rock-patch lower right...and in
between?: a black chasm which seems to be seen thru white mist—the ‘bleed’
of beachlight, yet also evokes, or visses, green in some eye-expectancy tension
between the yellow & blue. A man shadow begins its move across the beach
piece: and into this prepared space you thrust the ghost white mask of Unc Sam
in red band-master costume complete with gold braids, etc: (so prepared IS
this space that I took the ‘entrance’ as a dissolve first several times viewing):
the ephemeral white-over-black has reached, thus, and solidified over blue-
black rock: the red coat answers green-under-black of chasm in a harmonic
clash comparable to over-yellow & under-blue: and the gold braids & buttons
shift us to the glints of textured sand just as the whiteface leads to the following
foam-wash in a by-play still of the opening theme... over-yellow & under-
blue —now played out as sand whitened over with sea foam AND dark-blue of
water emerging in each backwash of foam: and the footprints are, of course, the
beach at its most yellowish, echoing both the pizzicato of buttons AND some
drift of the original diagonal chasm: and all finally moves, then, into a shimmer
of grains, as in ‘closed-eye-vision’ and cuts with a chunk of over-yellow and,
then yes, under-blue rock-drop. But Sam still ‘sticks OUT,’ does he not? —tho
the mind has to rack back over the events to catch him...
... you resolve that, next roll, beautifully, starting with an electrick sunset
(a bulb so photographed —in reflection?)—as to stand for electric-light/sunset
synonymously...then a pan up the features of the mask transformed by the
yellow bulb light and close-up textures as to echo the sand shots —but more, at
least at first, to be-seem a landscape painting (for such a sun to set in), past lips
(which settle it as mask but also, wonderfully, echo-in-shape the sun-bulb-set
AND give us the red of some-such, as wld the sun—were it such), then settle
on mask’s eye (in a shot exactly evoking Mt. Rushmore’s Lincoln): then you
shift along a line of yet deeper-red lines. . . still sinking yr. sun, as I take it...
until block-white, echoing Sam’s hat, fills frame except for the tiny grey idol,
all backed by white sky, of a lovely girl—the full haunt of remembrance-photo
SCRAPBOOK 155

grips all thought here... would pitch over into sentimentality except that you
move, then, along a line of silver verticals (utensils) intersperced with, yes,
red verticals and an echo-of-pix white-block (measuring cup): this shift to
verticals roots the gray upstanding figure of the girl almost subliminally in
mind: yellow-brown and wood-waved wall backs this continuing pan of kitchen
utensils, carrying on the sand-and-water theme as surely as the white
window-block you come to carries on pic./cup theme. . . (other colors coming
in, now: but even outsides green, thru window, ONLY after introduced by a
flower pot, etc: finally you stop this pan when you get a resolve of horizontal and
vertical reds in an egg shaped fuzzy mass of red yarn backed by the dried
rain-drops of the window—shift diagonally over yellow and then down wood’s
wavy grain to (what looks like) the remains of the supper you'd been having
earlier (Ist roll you sent me), picking up silver verticals, now, wherever you
can, all the way... even leaving in a light-struck frame —as it fell, magically
for you, in vert-streaks over first picture of yourself in mirror, wherein yr.
ruddish face becomes the sunset (in a near perfect balance of red & yellow)
struggling against the encroaching dark of yr. own movements.
156 BRAKHAGE

TO P. ADAMS SITNEY
mid Jan., 1969 surely as Olson, his generation—find
myself with something as ridiculous as
Dear P. Adams, Hamlet’s problems, lacking Hamlet’s
I simply don’t know what to make of youthful/ignorant surety wherewith to
the world this morning—woke up in the dagger them down: imagine a Hamlet
middle of last night with tears streaming who doesn’t die young but rather ends
down my face . . . hiccoughed myself to up surrounded by ALL those ghosts in-
sleep, then, finally: one can’t seem to be CLUDING his Father’s still twitter-
anything but ridiculous as a middle-aged ing/bitching, say, abt. the sloppiness
man in this culture—I think YOUTH- wherewith Hamlet had effected Justice,
Propaganda is undermining me .. . and etc.
I’m not old enough yet to ignore it: I Take the matter of Baillie, for in-
feel myself behaving in a most confused stance: in the same day, yesterday, I get
manner (all of a piece with, say, the con- a letter from Vigil stating he’d seen
fusions of my withdrawal from Film- Baillie recently, that he was worried
Makers’ Co-Op and the two years’ quar- about him, that he seemed definitely to
relsome thrashingabout with Jane dur- be ‘‘on some death kick”; and then I also
ing making of 23rd Psalm Branch)—and get the enclosed from Baillie himself:
yet I KNOW I know more than when and I don’t know what to make out of
I was younger and that I act with more either—every clear-seeming wash of in-
thoughtfulness and clarity upon any spiration I have (as that which prompted
given matter: but nothing seems to work my last letter to Baillie) seems to leave
ordinant with that ‘sense of magic’ I me stranded in some backwash Gordian
once, sometimes, had. I cannot help but weed, some “Backlash” as Nelson meta-
think The Times will not permit any phors it.
coming to Claritas—that if “the line I, who’ve turned down good money
grows thick,” as Pound puts it, NO man offered me to judge competitions because
shall be enabled to thin it of himself: I was so absolutely clear abt. the evils of
for, if he does work with needle-fine judging Art, find myself now part of the
mind-point, he shall find himself mid-age greatest film judge-klatch of all time—
making a million needle-fine parallels find that all the limitations of competi-
altogether into thick-approximate . . tion-judging are as surely manifesting
trapped beyond individual deliniation by tendencies as in any film festival.
the magnetics of his social Time (as I, who JUST had a clear inspiration
Pound escaping Circe’s hell does make abt. the limitations of Editing, find
a hell for others in the grotesqueries of myself entangled in A B & C rolls—in a
his prejudice . . . a hell which does, then, tapes-Tree weave that often makes Dog
snap back over himself in old age— Star Man seem like a Ute basket in
leaving a trail of thick black industrial comparison ...: the only residue of that
smoke between him and any vision of splicer-crisis I recently had does seem to
Persephone which he, younger, willed to be the inclination to honor the orders
lead The Cantos/himself OUT of hell/ and specifics of the photographic inspira-
Idaho, etc. I, who ‘took arms’ against tion on the A Roll—on the other rolls
The Tree, as surely as any man in these only in the sense they ‘take their cues’
Times find myself mid-point my life from that A Roll.
thrashing “In cold Hell/In Thicket” as And I’m DAMN tired of having to
SCRAPBOOK 157

take on the defense of D. W. Griffith: Storm”: ’22—“One Exciting Night”:

oy

BUT—here’s my home-work on the sub- in 1923 he went to Germany and made

ject... (and I feel absolutely certain we a seldom seen film made with the assis-
HAVE to deal with at least the follow- tant direction of Eric Von Stroheim, re-
ing films of his, consideration of him, leased in 1924; “Isn’t Life Wonderful”
ESPECIALLY if—as it looks to be (an ironic title, natch) : somewhere mid-
turning out—he’s excluded entirely from 20s he made “America”: in 1929 he
the Anthology Cinema): made a film starring W. C. Fields—
In 1907 it is certain he STARRED “Sally of The Sawdust”: in 1930 he
in “Rescued From The Eagle’s Nest”; made a film starring Walter Houston;
but it is by no means certain he directed “Abraham Lincoln”: in 1931 a ‘10-
that film: in 1908 he made 49 films of nights-in-barroom’ piece called “The
abt. 700’ apiece (FOR which, inciden- Struggle” (which was SO unpopular in
tally, he was paid 14¢ a foot) ; and “The prohibitionist America it ended his career
Adventures of Dolly’ does seem to be once and for all). Most of this info. is
the film most remarked-upon (I hesitate dug up by Ed Diamond (THE film en-
to say “remarkable’”’): in 1909 he made thusiast of Denver): and he and I have
146 similarly short films; and his “Edgar come up with this list after dozens of
Allen Poe” and “The Renunciation” phone conversations. And as Griffith is,
seem to be those most necessary for us at least, MY ‘Hamlet’s Father,’ all these
to look at: in 1910 he made 102 short films gotta be viewed one time or t’other.
films; and “Ramona” gets critical men- Forrest Williams and I are also working
tion, along with “Corner In Wheat” over the old Doc. school-of-thought
(which is, I think, of this year) : 1911— (Oh, the IRONY that I should feel ob-
93 films; and “Enoch Arden’”—Parts ligated to help this old hoss of the M. Of
1 & 2—is among his outstandingly no- M. Ahrt, this Fuseli nightmare that did
ticed early longer films: in 1912 he trample me again & again in my green
makes 52 films, as he’s making longer years!)—and thus ...: ‘‘Pluie” (I don’t
films now; and “Musketeers of Pig know WHO made this: but Forrest’s
Alley” is a 4 reeler must-see of this year: enthusiasm prompts me to include it),
in 1913—47 films; the 4 reelers ‘““I'wo Ruttmann’s “‘Berlin,”’ Ivens’ “Borinage,”
Men of The Desert” and “Judith of (and a film highly recommended by Ku-
Bethulia” stand out .. .: no—in 1914 belka when he was here—an anthropol-
he went over to Reliance Majestic Co., ogy film, called): “Dead Birds.” Also,
THEN made “Judith” ; and, also of this then, Abel Gance’s “La Roue,” to put
year, his “Battle of The Sexes” (4 reels), his best film-foot forward (tho’ “Napo-
“Escape” (7 reels), “Home Sweet leon” also should, probably, be seen) and,
Home” (6 reels), “Avenging Con- of Epstein “Coeur (something/some-
science” (6 reels) and, of course “Birth thing)” and “Les Tempestaire,” of
of A Nation”: 1915 then gets us ‘‘Intol- course.
erance” (his AND yours, apparently): SH IA*+HS lll&l*$H#4+"@, ete.:
1918—“Hearts of The World” and and I KNOW jour groaning, P.
“The Greatest Thing In Life” (which Adams: but god-dammit!, yr rejection
Lillian Gish said was his greatest work, of Griffith (or mine of ol’ Doc.) IS,
whatever that’s worth) and “Broken really, like say Pound’s of “Paradise
Blossoms” (somewhere in there): 1919 Lost,” “. . . Regained,” etc.—is a youth-
— ‘True Heart Suzy”: 1920—“Way ful folly, at best . . IS compounded out
Down East”: 1921—“Orphans of The of intolerance of the whole world of
158 BRAKHAGE

Milton or whatsoever: and it all falls Cinema—I’m too old and not old/
into such a recognizable historical pat- (wise) enough for it! I’m too ‘middle
tern: THAT, say, we can pass easily on aged’ to just “Have FUN” /have at it
Meéliés (and, incidentally, while passing (as I insisted was necessity of blessing
‘easily’ on it we’d better see ALL of it— OF it, in earlier letters) ... : every
i.e. you better just take Kubelka’s cata- single original demand I made upon it
logue on Méliés as a ‘List’ ... and let’s (like ‘unanimous decision” and “west
have it) because he’s past THRU yr./ coast representative”) does seem to hatch
my generations Culture-Dropout period, evil tendencies and utter confusion—
whereas Griffith is right smack in the (even my decision to “vote as if buying
middle of that period-of-rejection which films for my home” has shaped itself into
does, say in painting, have it that Gus- some damn-blasted Ideological straight-
tave Moreau is just beginning to be jacket of “The Cabinet of Dr. Cali-
visible again, Franz Liszt just barely gari’)-...: and I was only tempted to
listenable-to again, George Cabot Lodge go on with this letter to try to avoid its
still out-of-print, etcetera. secret title being: “I simply ... Dr.
I dunno ...: I’m tending to feel like Caligari.”
I oughta resign from The Anthology
SCRAPBOOK 159

TO DONALD SUTHERLAND
January 16, 1969 sion by the fakery of such as are locally
Dear Donald, sponsored by the most UNregional rich)
—or backs up into the hills, as I have,
I am quite fussed by your article on Angelo has. While it is true I’m “better
local culture: (I don’t know what the known” in “Brussels than at home in
mag. “Cultural Affairs” really tries to Denver,” it is perhaps more to the point
be: but, as they begin by quoting Kay that I’m better known in Salt Lake City
Boyle’s wish to say too little rather than (or in, say, Oslo) than anywhere in the
too much, J’/] wish them/it the ultimate whole state of Colorado—and rather
luck that they say nothing at all). simply because my films are more often
shown in Utah (and even in some “Iron
The first page of your article (the Curtain” countries) than here ...: and
Kootchie-Koo section) is very funny, in that has nothing what-so-ever to do with
your best ‘letter’ style: and I found your the peculiarities of geography here shap-
thread of perception apropos the discon- ing special sense-abilities: it is the result
tinuities of regional culture very excit- of an active force against any continuity
ingly clear: but your defense of this art of good sense, even, which might unsettle
apathy, even tho’ couched on tongue-in- the exploitation possibilities of these en-
cheek, is galling to me—it does seem to virons—(this is, in the minds of those
be at the expense of (what J take to be) who rule it, a cow pasture for Texas
your own magnificence . . . all wise- rangers . . . a shale-oil pot—or, on the
cracks backlash on you, me, Thomas other hand, a Marie Antoinette farm for
Hornsby Ferril, even, and (thereby) the tired eastern business men).
whole possibility (—no! . .. I should
say, absolute NECESSITY) of aesthetic I think the whole “‘regional’’ question,
continuity in this region. I’m not “‘flip’’- as you've handled it in that article, is
ing when I say “There is no audience in rathed “dated” anyhow. Ed Dorn re-
Denver”: I’m taking a STANCE cently said: “I can’t accept any sense of
against the audioly deaf who supported ‘region’ smaller than The Earth”: and
a puppet—absolutely attached to a met- I agree with that. I saw the dress re-
ronome—as conductor of The Denver hearsal for your ‘““Requiem For A Rich
Symphony for years, who set up “the Young Man”: and J remember it as
blind leading the blind” with Otto Bach regional TO G. Stein’s Spain rather
as head of The Denver Art Museum, than to any local Mexicanism. Your
etcetera—or those in Aspen who import Greek translations, as they exist so
N. Y.’s import of old Dada (and never MUCH in tthe present, inhabit the
once did ask Henry James Jr., who lived whole space/time of The West, in the
there, to exhibit, never once asked Mina full sense of that term: I can’t accept
Loy to read) . . . those who set up Art anything less than that consideration of
as a Church of Lip Service and thereby you, your work; but I do understand
blight the natural growth of sensibility that the local clutch of culture does tend
in the whole area: the VERY real to prejudice ALL of us against such con-
“audience” hereabouts is always OF sideration—that we do tend, thru neglect,
Denver, etc.—runs to either coast... . to wither into some local-yokelism our-
or each person backs up into his/her selves... wax fatuous and wan folksy—:
living room (run OUT of public occa- and THAT’S why I just can’t let this
160 BRAKHAGE

article pass without blasting the whole experience, and aftermath, of traveling
premise of it: I don’t take that premise “Soul Saver” tent-meeting conversions to
to be naturally yours, but rather take it Christianity: the local church, no matter
to be some corner which you are at least how unspectacular and/or even utterly
determined to inhabit wittily: I (fortu- stupid, remained the only really possible
nately, I think) lack all sense of humor touch with religion in the collective ex-
in this respect. perience of the community): thus, even
I go to “the movies,” fall back on that
I think a good deal of whatever ran- norm of public event, rather than search
cour* in my reaction to your article is out those few “Specials” that occur here-
due to the coincidence that, shortly after abouts—there is a dependability-of-expe-
reading it, Forrest Williams—with some rience in, even, undiscriminate movie at-
Univ. of Colo. funds to spend on films— tendance which has not been achieved in
called and actually consulted me seri- any other series (indeed there are NO
ously as to whether he should purchase other continuities really) offered in this
“Frankenstein,” ““The Bride of Franken- state: and this state of affairs DAMN
stein” or ‘Frankenstein Meets The blasts us ALL aesthetically, except as
Wolf Man,” etc. ...: and that I was, each and any one of us creates those con-
that morning, so regionally SUNK as to tinuities of art he’s able to maintain in
discuss this matter as-if-rationally with his home: if there IS anything you might
him, is unbearable—IS, worse, frighten- call ‘an art audience’ in Denver—then
ing—means (to me) I’ve been under- that’s no cause for rejoicing either: it
mined, somehow, in the relationship with would be better if there were nothing of
him who has been, obviously, under- the sort (just as it would be better for
mined by the bureaucratic drift .. . if me if they closed down all Hollywood
not utter stagnation... of C. U. I see movie theatres in the state) ... until
I’ve got to become either some absolute such time as some continually open and
hermit crab, here, or else some tough and utterly alive art center were created to
raging old bastard (rather than some sustain aesthetic sensibility as simply and
Colo. ‘‘grand old man’’) if my very san- naturally as the movie theatres sustain
ity is to survive ‘madhouse’ encounters the Holy Drift Wood of penny-dread-
such as I’m having these days; or I could fulism.
take the wit tack, call Forrest back, and
dicuss ‘seriously’ with him the philosophy My “STANCE” is against a false
of Will Rogers. church; and it should be equally against
the poisonous escapism of pop culture
Continuity is exactly what The Arts (which does, I see/hear ((Forrest Wil-
need in order to weave way into com- liams) ) insinuate itself into the colleges
munity experience: men will, wisely, for serious consideration—the religious
attend that which is available as a con- fanaticism of comic strip worshippers is
tinuity ... (I say “wisely” because “The just the other side of the coin of orthorox
Special Event” will always—no matter pomposity ...: and I’m newly fortified,
what it innately IS—affect living expe- since reading your article, in my deter-
riences out-of-proportion, thus, finally, mination to rid myself of the influ of
superficially . . . much as the ‘religious’ BOTH these X-streams of culture.

* (the “u” is there maybe to express the

actual agitation of my heart)
SCRAPBOOK 16!

; late June, 1969 Gilpin . (nor am I likely to ever

Dear Donald, manage some salon in Europe wherewith
to by-pass either of these two usual fates
It’s okay—: I was not seeking to for American artists).
change your attitude . . . but, rather, to I think the center of my fuss in rela-
given VENT to mine—which does, tion to any localism is best exemplified
otherwise, smolder and fume too much by the quality of feeling of the occasion
around me in this lonely place. Actually, of your introducing me to some(any) one
I didn’t know that you can “take... or in your bar. You usually say something
leave” civilization—had/have that indif- like: “This is Stan Brakhage, our great-
ference to it, as a concept—: a perfect est film-maker”... or “one of America’s
demonstration of the unimportance of greatest” ...etc.: this factual introduc-
“concepts,” anyway, is existent in com- tion does, always, pass in feeling tone for
parison of your letter with mine: your some kind of ‘put-on’ or joke in the local
prose shows forth more civility than circumstances: ‘This is Stan Brakhage”’
mine which, while championing at the bit would suffice in New York whether I
of “civilization,” does growl (if not bite) was, thereby, known for anything more
rather primitively. Nazism, of course, than my strange name or not: I think
grew in just such grounds of broken- that in either locality I would rather
heartedness (schizophrenia): and, while pass as ‘the mysterious stranger’ (‘mys-
we're not yet gassing anybody in Gilpin, terious’ to give me a little elbow room
you are right to warn me of such facism for drama) rather than as anything that
as any simplistic world view (mine, has to be explained. My difficulty socio-
Dorn’s, or Margaret Mead’s, say) does locally is that I seem to be always some
engender—tho’ I’d add that “regional- subject to be tossed into the cultural gap
ism” amounts to the same thing (viz., —and that I cannot manage to fill such
Olson’s Gloucester, etcetera) . . . cer- a chasm in the lute nor even to tempo-
tainly Pound has taken his toll—right rarily bridge it . . . nor do I even have
off the Ida-(westward)-HO!-(Ameri- any real (personal) desire to do so
can)-heart; yet as he grows old, and (wouldn’t really dream of making Aspen
speechless, in Italy now his life-shape “my business,” “properly” or otherwise) :
takes on the proportions of a great sadness my constant Colo. nightmare might be
(if not tragedy) not primarily his per- parodied, thus: .
sonal fault—U.S.ence has been cracking ... I’ve tried to slip sideways into this
pots in infancy of each out-reaching 19th century cowboy drawing room, to
member since the Declaration of Inde- get warm and snitch a bit of food and
pendence started off that whole terror of take in the sights, etc.: they've caught
separation from Mama Europe: and me at the door and have even, inexplica-
then along came Dada, the happy alco- bly, found my name on the list of invited
holic, at the turn of the century adding guests; but they won’t let me pass on
fuel to the fear all over again. Ah, well into the anonymity of the drawing room
.. . I don’t want to end up speechless: until they’ve found the proper announce-
(and isn’t it strange that all three of ment card and proclaimed my presence
those New Jersey, a-Philly-ated budding with the usual pomp and ceremony: I
poet buddies—H. D., Pound, & Wil- stand with increasing embarrassment and
liams—did come, at the last, to some frustration, shivering in the doorway
complete inability to speak): mor do I and/or raging to keep warm, while they
want to end up the raging ghost of endlessly shuffle the cards,
12 EEESBERAREIAGE
IN DEFENSE OF AMATEUR
I have been making films for over 15 years now. I have contributed
to many commercial films as “director,” “photographer,” “editor,”
“writer,” “actor” even, “grip,” etcetera, and sometimes in combina-
tions of all of these. But mostly I have worked without title, in no
collaberation with others—I have worked alone and at home, on films
of seemingly no commercial value... ‘at home’ with a medium I love,
making films I care for as surely as I have as a father cared for my
children. As these home movies have come to be valued, have grown
into a public life, I, as the maker of them, have come to be called a
“professional,” an “artist,” and an “amateur.” Of those three terms,
the last one—‘‘amateur’’—is the one I am truly most honored by...
even tho’ it is most often used in criticism of the work I have done by
those who don’t understand it.
The ‘professional’ is always much admired in the public life of any
time. He is the Don Juan whose techniques (of sex or whatever),
whose conquests in terms of number, speed, duration or mathematical-
whatever, whose stance for perfection (whatever can be intellectu-
ally measured to determine a competitional ‘winner’) does dazzle
any man at any time he relates to the mass of people, does count him-
self as of a number, and does thus have a public life: but when that
man is alone, or with those few, or that one other, he loves, his admira-
tion of Don Juan, and of all such technicians as “professors’’/“‘pro-
fessionals” are, disappears from any consciousness he may have—
except, alas, his consciousness of himself... and if he is then tempted
to ‘lord’ it with those he loves, if his ‘‘home is his castle’ and he ‘“The
King” thereof it, he will soon cease to have any private life whatso-
ever; and he may even come to be the Don Juan himself, forever in
‘the hell’ of the admiration of other people’s public life. He will, as
such, tend to always think of himself as ‘on display’: and if he makes
movies, even if only in his home, he will be known for making a great
‘show’ of it and will imitate the trappings of the commercial cinema
(usually with no success whatsoever, as he will attempt the grandiose
of visual and audio with penny-whistle means); and he will buy
equipment beyond any need or real joy in it (usually penny-dreadful
junk-stage-props for the ‘production’ of his imaginary profession . . .
rather than for any loving re-production of the movements of his
living): and his wife and/or impatient friends will be expected to
take his egocentric directions, to labor under his delusions, to come

Written circa 1967; Filmmakers Newsletter 4 (9-10), Summer 1971

SGRAREOOK@EE gg
to “grips” for him (as laziness is usually a sign of professional ego-
centricity which would have some servant to follow its every aspira-
tion with a director’s chair to sit in) ; and his children or whomever
will be expected to ‘grin and bear’ his every pompous set-up and
staged dramatics (to the expense, as usual, of any real play) ... ah,
well—we all do really know him, this would-be professional, who
does in his imitation of ‘productions’ give us a very real symbol of
the limitations of commercial cinema without any of the accomplish-
ments thereof that endeavor: the best we can hope for such a man is
that either he goes on into commercial film-making and takes all such
professionalism out of his home (where he might become amateur
again) or else that he makes an obvious fool of himself (whereupon
he becomes lovable again to those who love him).
Now, as to the term: “artist”: I’ve come to the conclusion, after
years of struggling to determine the meaning of this word, that any-
one becomes an artist the instant he fee/s he is—perhaps even the
instant he thinks he is—and that, therefore, almost everyone, some
time or other in his living, is an artist. A public Artist, with capitol
“A,” is as much admired by many, and of as little value to an indi-
vidual life, as any professional. It is a word, in our current usage,
very like the word “love.”” When Love is capped, it applies to Mother,
Father, Sister, Brother, Wife, Children, Lover and—as also capped
and usually prefaced by a “‘possessive’”’ word—‘“‘your” country, “my”
dog (even “yours,” “love me, love my dog,” etc.), “his” favorite food,
“our” friendship, club, etc.—and, thus, the word comes to have very
little public meaning ... just as the word “Art” applied to craftsman-
ship, cleverness, or facility of any competitive kind ceases to have any
special meaning what-so-ever: but both words continue to move with
the deepest meaning that individual intonation can give them in the
privacy of every single living utterance of each of them with personal
meaning... that is the beauty of both these words—and that is why
I do no more care to be called an artist, except by my friends and
those who love me than I would care to be called a lover, publically.
“Amateur” is a word which, in the Latin, meant “lover”: but today
it has become a term like “Yankee” (‘‘Amateur—Go Home’’),
hatched in criticism, by professionals who so little understand the
value of the word or its meaning that they do honor it, and those of
us who identify with it, most where they think to shame and disgrace
in their usage of it.
An amateur works according to his own necessity (a Yankee-
RAIA
14
enough proclivity) and is, in that sense, ‘at home’ anywhere he works:
and if he takes pictures, he photographs what he loves or needs in
some-such sense—surely a more real, and thus honorable, activity
than work which is performed for some gain or other than what the
work itself gives ... surely more personally meaningful than work
only accomplished for money, or fame, power, etc... . and most as-
suredly more individually meaningful than commercial employment
—for the true amateur, even when in consort with other amateurs, is
always working alone, gauging his success according to his care for
the work rather than according to the accomplishments or recogni-
tions of others.
Why then have critics, teachers, and other guardians of the public
life come to use the term derogatorily? Why have they come to make
“amateur” mean: “inexperienced,” “clumsy,” “dull,” or even “dan-
gerous’’? It is because an amateur is one who really lives his life—
not one who simply “performs his duty”—and as such he experiences
his work while he’s working—rather than going to school to learn
his work so he can spend the rest of his life just doing it dutifully—;
and the amateur, thus, is forever learning and growing thru his work
into all his living in a “clumsiness” of continual discovery that is as
beautiful to see, if you have lived it and can see it, as to watch young
lovers in the “clumsiness” of their lack of knowing and the joy of
their continual discovery of eachother, if you have ever loved and
can appreciate young lovers without jealousy. Amateurs and lovers
are those who look on beauty and liken themselves to it, thus say they
“like it”: but professionals, and especially critics, are those who feel
called-upon and duty-bound to profess, prove, improve, etc., and are
therefor estranged from any simplicity of reception, acception, or
open-ness at all unless they are over-whelmed by something. Beauty
overwhelms only in the form of drama; and love overwhelms only
when it has become possessive. It is The Critic in each man that does
give credence to The Professional Critic’s stance against The Ama-
teur, for when any man feels ashamed of the lack of drama in his
‘home-movies’, he does put something of his shame into his making
(or his talking about the pictures he’s taken) and does, thus, achieve
the drama of embarrassment. And when an amateur film-maker does
feel vulnerable because of the open-ness of the love-expression he has
made in photographing his wife and children he tends to shame him-
self for the simplicity of his vision of beauty and to begin to hide that
simple sight thru a complexity of photographic tricks and staged
cutenesses, to give his ‘home movies’ a veneer, a slick and impene-
SCRAPBOOKS
trable ‘hide’ and/or to devise filmic jokes at the expense of himself
and his loved ones—as if to protect himself and his images from
criticism by making them obviously foolish . . . as if to say: “Look,
I know I’m a fool—I intend to make you laugh at me and my pic-
tures!” Actually, this latter proclivity at its ultimate is one of the
most endearing qualities of amateurism, but also, like any self-protec-
tiveness, it prevents a deeper experiencing and knowledge of the
person and his films and, indeed, of the whole amateur film-making
medium. It makes ‘home-movies’ endearing like fat, jolly people
who obscure their features in flesh and their feelings in jokes and
laughter at their expense—thus protecting themselves from the in-
depth involvement with others: and, then too, the amateur film does
often beg for attention in ways that impose upon any viewer, force
him to a hypocritical ‘kindness’, and preclude any real attention...
like the stutterer who can hold a roomful of people to a constrained
silence as he struggles to come to speech. Yet the stutterer is very
often worth waiting for and attending carefully precisely because
his speech-difficulty can tend to make him think twice before strug-
gling with utterance and can condition him to speak only when he
has something absolutely necessary to say .. . he will obviously never
‘profess’ and is, thus, automatically a lover of spoken language.
I suggest the conscious cultivation of an honest pride in all ‘neu-
rotics’ (rather than any therapy which would imply the ideal of some
‘normalcy’ or other) and in the ‘neurotic’ medium of ‘home-movie’
making (rather than any professorial tutoring which might set a goal
of some ‘norm’ of film-making). I would like to see ‘fat’ films carry
their own weight of meaning and stuttery montages reflect the mean-
ingfullness of repetition, the acts of mis-take as integral steps in mo-
tion picture taking. Mistakes in filming, like Freudian ‘slips’ in lan-
guage, ‘puns’ and the like, very often contain the meaning that was
covered-up thru error as well as the reason for erring. When mother-
in-law is ‘accidently’ superimposed over images of the family dog,
a pride in one’s own wit (rather than self-conscious embarrassment)
can free both film-maker and his medium thru recognition of delight-
ful confession and inform him and his mother-in-law of a relation-
ship that could, as always, change for the better if both are capable
of facing the truth .. . besides, when such a super-imposition as that
is treated as a meaningless joke or embarrassing mistake, the deroga-
tory suggestion is the on/y one noticed (“Well .. . is that what you
think of me—ha! ha! ha!,” mother-in-law will say) and never the
positive aspects (such as the amateur’s affection for his dog, for in-
EE
166 RAKE
stance.) As we are all much conditioned by language, many technical
errors refer to the name of the technique via visual/language ‘puns’
(as, for instance, a man may take a picture of his wife ‘over-exposed’
when she was wearing a dress with a neck-line he considered too low)
and even pictures that depend primarily upon referential words for
their full meaning (as, I’m convinced, most amateurs tend to photo-
graph a tree on the far left of the film frame with an even arrange-
ment of rocks and bushes extending horizontally from left to right
to approximate the look of the word “Tree’’). I find these references
to language constrictive film-making (as most movie pans are left-
to-right because of the habit pattern of reading) as finally rather
obscure from a visual standpoint: but one must be aware of them in
order to break the habit of them: and awareness actually begins in
some taking pride in the accomplishments of these linguistic visions.
And some film-makers will enjoy these word-oriented pictures (that
I find “constricting”) and make them consciously: but either way,
shame will never end a habit or make it a conscious virtue; but it will,
rather, obscure the process and pot-bind its roots beyond any possi-
bilities of growth.
The artificial ‘tricks’ with which amateurs tend to hide their real
feelings do, like ‘mis-takes’, tend to contain-thru-method the very
truth they were effected to conceal; and they are, in fact, consciously
contrived ‘puns’ or ‘metaphors.’ I, personally, do very much care
for the whole area of technical innovation in film-making: and I am
very often accused of being too “tricky” in my motion picture making.
It is certainly a proclivity I am conscious of: and I only run the per-
sonal risk of taking too great a pride in technical trickery. To counter-
act this danger to my own growth, I make it a point never to contrive
a ‘trick’, an effect, or a technical virtuosity, but only permit myself
to arrive at a filmic innovation when it arises from the felt needs of
the film itself in the making and as an absolute necessity of realizing
my emotions in the act of motion picture making. I try very hard to
be honest with myself about this; and I can usually discipline myself
most clearly by making all technical explorations the direct expres-
sion of acts of seeing (rather than making an image to-be-seen). For
instance, when I photographed the births of my children I saw that
with their first in-takes of breath their whole bodies were suffused
with rainbowing colors from head to toe: but the film stock always
recorded only the spread of reddish blotches across the surface of
the skin: and so, by the time I had photographed the birth of my third
child and in each occasion seen this incredible phenomenon, I felt
SCRAPBOOK
SAS
a 167
|-Y

compelled to paint some approximation of it directly on the surface

of the 16 mm film and superimposed, as it were, over the photo-
graphed images of birth. As I had no way to prove whether this
vision of skin rainbows at birth was a hallucination of mine or an ex-
tent reality too subtle for photographic recording, I felt free while
editing this third birth film to also paint, on each 16 mm frame at
a time, all the visions of my mind’s eye and to inter-cut with the birth
pictures some images I had remembered while watching the birth—
some pictures of a Greek temple, polar bears, and flamingos (from a
previous film of mine) ... images which had, of course, no real ex-
istence at the time of the birth except in my ‘imagination’ (a word
from the Greek meaning: ‘image birth’) but were, all the same, seen
by me as surely as was the birth of the baby (were, in fact, given-
birth-to- by me in an interior act of mimetic magic as old as the
recorded history of Man.)
All of which brings us to the question of symbolism and subject
matter in ‘home-movie’ making. When an amateur photographs
scenes of a trip he’s taking, a party or other special occasion, and
especially when he’s photographing his children, he’s primarily
seeking a hold on time and, as such, is ultimately attempting to defeat
death. The entire act of motion picture making, thus, can be con-
sidered as an exteriorization of the process of memory. ‘Hollywood’,
sometimes known as ‘the dream-factory’, makes ritualistic-dramas in
celebration of mass memory—very like the rituals of tribal people—
and wishful-thinking movies which seek to control the national des-
tiny ... as sure as primitive tribes throw water on the ground to bring
rain...and they make ‘social’ or ‘serious’ dramas, at great commercial
risk to the industry, as a corporate act of ‘sacrifice’-—not unlike the
practices of self-torture priests undergo in order to ‘appease the gods’:
and the whole commercial industry has created a pseudo church
whose ‘god’ is ‘mass psychology’ and whose anthropomorphism con-
sists of praying to (“Buy this—NOW!”), and preying upon (polling,
etc.) ‘the-greatest-number-of-people’ as if, thereby, the human destiny
were predictable and/or could be controlled thru mimecry. But the
amateur photographs the persons, places, and objects of his love and
the events of his happiness and personal importance in a gesture that
can act directly and solely according to the needs of memory. He
does not have to invent a god of memory, as does the professional :nor
does the amateur have to appease any personification of God in his
making. He is free, if he but accept the responsibility of his freedom,
to work as the spirit of his god, or his memory, or his particular needs,
ee
[{:
move him. It is for this reason that I believe any art of the cinema
must inevitably arise from the amateur, ‘home-movie’ making me-
dium. And I believe that the so-called ‘commercial’, or ritual, cinema
must inevitably take its cues from the films of amateurs rather than,
as is too often the case these days, the other way round.
I now work equally in 8 and 16 millimeter making mostly silent
films (and am even making a 35 mm film at home); I am guided
primarily in all creative dimensions by the spirit of the home in which
I’m living, by my own very living room. I have bought some 8 and
16 mm films which sit alongside books and LP records on my library
shelf and I have sold many of my 8 mm films to both private homes
and public libraries—thus by-passing the theatrical limitations of
film viewing entirely .. . thus creating a circumstance wherein films
may be lived-with and studied in depth—returned-to again and again
like poetry and recorded music.
I am currently working on a long ‘home-movie’ war film in 8 mm:
I discovered that the television set was as crucial a part of my living-,
therefor working-room as the walls of it and its various other furnish-
ings, and that T.V. could present me with as necessary an involve-
ment as the activities of my children: ergo, I finally had to deal with
its primary impulse at present—The War—as surely, as an amateur,
as I would with any and every important occasion of our living. I
carry a camera (usually 8 mm) with me on almost every trip away
from the house (even to the grocery store) and thus become camera-
laden ‘tourist’ of my own immediate environment as well as in those
distant places I travel to—(many 8 mm cameras fit easily into a coat
pocket or purse and are, thus, no more of a burden than a transistor-
ized radio) ... and I call these home and travel movies “SONGS,” as
they are to me the recorded visual music of my inner and exterior
life—the ‘fixed’ melodies of, the filmic memory of, my living.
SCRAPBOOK
SALE
e AOS ee S 169

STAN AND JANE BRAKHAGE

(AND HOLLIS FRAMPTON) TALKING
TAPE ONE

Frampton: Last night you said you would like to make something beautiful. . .
and get away with it.
Brakhage: What does one mean by “get away with it?”
Frampton: Things that are beautiful are seductive, are they not?
Brakhage: Ah, yes, you’ve worried me for some time by saying that The Riddle
of Lumen was the least seductive film I'd ever made. . . until I realized that you
meant I'd gotten away with it. Seduction is what the people who steal beauty
use it for. What I mean in getting away with it is that I want to be able to get all
the excitement, the absolute ecstacy at times...and I feel confronted by
anything that ve photographed or even been moved to begin to think of
photgraphing... get all that excitement and intensity all the way over into
whatever I make. That’s what I meant by getting away with it.
Maybe that’s too simple. Let’s think of it a minute in terms of something
somebody else got away with. Sergei Eisenstein got away with the short cut. He
used every trick in the bag to get away with it. For instance, the machine-
gunner. There was a reason for the short-cut: it was approximating the
machine-gun. Bullshit. That was the excuse whereby he could get away witha
quality of vision that was closer to the ecstacy of what his own eyesight must
normally have been. Similarly, in that same shot, not only did he have the
machine-gun as a context to lean on, but he was intercutting two or three
distinct scenes. He kept repeating—I can’t even remember exactly —do they
repeat exactly: 1, 2, 3; 1, 2, 3 or do they go 1, 3, 2; 1, 3, 2?
Frampton: No, there’s a transposition.
Brakhage: If there is, then he’s really getting away with something. Because
there is no reason there should be. So he was confuting reason. What he was
relying on was that the normal sequence of pictures is 1, 2, 3—a scene
following a scene and so on. He was relying on repetition, and relying on that to
make motion, the trickery of motion. We have a repetition of cuts, every single
16th of a second; and every shot encounters something almost like itself. All
he did was to space two or three scenes apart from each other. So he got away
with expressing something that was normal to his vision. And how do we know
it was normal to his vision? Because of the persistence with which he expressed
this thing, and because of the lengths he went to to make it acceptable. Even
socially acceptable: look at all the words he wrote about it.
With every artist it’s a case of trying to get something of what’s really

Artforum, January 1973

119 RAR
intrinsic to his being, and separable from all social senses of what other human
beings are, out into the general air. I can’t beat, as a basic maxim, Robert
Duncan’s statement: I exercise my faculties at large. In the same way other
men make war, some make love; I make poetry —to exercise my faculties at
large. It’s like hoity-toity the way it’s put. Really what it means is that young
men and women are faced with an impossible contradiction between their own
intrinsic loneliness, and their own absolute dependence upon others. To make
themselves imaginable within the general airs of all the other imaginations that
others have accepted of themselves—they’re forced to accept an equivalent.
It’s either that, or madness, or death, or total withdrawal, or a bitter eccentric-
ity... and all the various other alternatives every artist toys with.
When I was a certain age, and when the glasses and the fat of me were a solid
manifestation of my own removal from everything around me that I was so
dependent on, I lost weight and threw away the glasses. When I threw away the
glasses I literally could not see to cross the street safely. That meant I had
accepted other persons’ sense of sight —it didn’t mean I couldn’t see. I mean
the ways in which I was seeing weren’t acceptable, and therefore they weren’t
acceptable to me. I had no other equivalent for any of them in any of the books
or pictures. Everyone else had an easy referential relationship with Renais-
sance perspective.
Frampton: You're saying that the spectacles designed to give you corrected
perspective were, as we say, rose-colored glasses?
Brakhage: If they had worked, they would have been. But they didn’t work.
The assumption that anything mechanical like that will work, is based on the
idea that seeing is mechanical and other people are trying to see according to
those glasses. Why I couldn’t cross the street safely, was that no on had given
me the idea that there were ways in which I could make myself safe in crossing
the street, just as surely as that shared, ‘acceptable’ form of making yourself
safe.
Frampton: That you could see with the eyes you had?
Brakhage: Yes, perfectly well. The one place where I did see in relationship to
all other people’s seeing was the movie house, from the beginning, glasses or
no.
Frampton: Did you take off your glasses when you went to the movies?
Brakhage: Yes, but when I first took them off, the screen was just muggy
shapes and blurs. I was struggling to re-see. But people in the movie house,
with or without glasses, are on a much closer plane than in the general
phenomenal world, because there is a system for sight that even with glasses,
apparently, I could accept. In fact, it’s a system that’s more suited to someone
with glasses than not because it’s a system that passes through lenses.
Frampton: Now, you're at this end of 20 years of work which pretty well does
SCRAPBOOKS
establish the primacy of a vision of your own. You have survived the necessity
to get something out...
Jane: There’s the need to make more, each year...
Brakhage: Well, people have also made a large case for beauty as terror.
Assuredly the dragon must look beautiful to St. George when he finds it,
because he’s there to do it in. And he dances with it in so doing. But he can
only dance with it if he kills it... and that sense of beauty hangs like a very
dark shadow over at least the first half of the 20th century. And I think my
growing disinterest in that sense of beauty has a lot to do with why I’m
embracing so many aspects of the 19th century, over the last several years. In
the 19th century there was a much more direct relationship with beauty, and it
became fearful. One wonders why. Certainly we understand why, socially. It’s
just as simple as this: no honest, decent, socially involved man is going to sit
around painting roses while an obvious misery is destroying the world in front
of his eyes. It’s impossible. He either puts on blinders, or removes himself to a
garden; or he becomes essentially a social artist. And to the extent that he’s
unable, because of his obsession and his own primary needs, to become a
social artist, he immediately opts for discovering the beauty of the monster that
confronts him. Not an unworthy task, in fact one of the more favored in
Western history, is the confrontation with the dragon—to be slain. But what
interests me now is that I envision a way in which that dragon can be con-
fronted, and danced with, without killing it. Everybody deeply involved in the
social scene jumps all over me (and everybody else that says any such thing)
because they think that we mean to get along with the Devil, or to help the
dragon slay people, and that’s not what I mean at all.
Jane: What’s the dragon?
Brakhage: Well, the dragon is the ashcan of the Ashcan School of painting.
The dragon is the tortured and screaming faces of Germans in German Expres-
sionist painting. The dragon is the waste of city landscape.
Jane: So you’re not doing in the dragon?
Brakhage: Well, I think in a way I am. I think going to Pittsburgh was
confronting the dragon in his den. I didn’t go to Pittsburgh to photograph the
city as the Emerald City of Oz, or to make a cathedral of it like Feininger. I
walked straight into a police car, and then a hospital, and then a morgue. And
this had to do with the city as an image of death, or as a vast graveyard of
sensibility.
Frampton: The dragon has often been emblematic of what is unwarranted and
surprising, and thus undesirable, in perception and in imagination.
Brakhage: Every artist, in some way, is trying to get around this dilemma,
which really is a 19th century dilemma. What did Eisenstein have to start
with, to celebrate? Heroics! He was confronted by a mass of people, which for
inEEE SSSBRAKEIAGE
most of the history of the world is a pretty ugly apparition in any form in which
it occurs. He made this the hero. He strung people out in the most incredible
patterns, across vast landscapes and around city streets, in order to create an
image of the heroic mass. There’s a contradiction!
Another question the artist runs up against —the prime one —is to find a way
to make manifest to the general air his own socially unacceptable par-
ticularities. Then the artist starts confronting ways in which his culture is
unacceptable. By ‘his’ culture, I mean, say, the culture of Lump Gulch, which
I have so far found no way to transport to New York or San Francisco. And by
this I’m not just meaning to be able to give that vision to others, or not even
primarily that. I’ve found no way yet to reconcile my living here, in relationship
to my dreams of the city; not those dreams in relationship to the cities as they
are, those specific cities I’ve known in New York, San Francisco, and, of late,
Pittsburgh.
So there’s Eisenstein (who presumably, if you look at those young pictures of
him, had a normal bourgeois upbringing) confronted with the ordinary 19th-
century leanings toward the dramatic-heroic, forced to use as his material, first
of all by his own decision and then later by the decision of the Politburo, the
ordinary mass. That’s something he had to reconcile. He had irreconcilable
elements enough to tear a man apart, if he can’t forget them. His only means of
having both these elements in the same air with himself and his proclivities
was to make an image. That was probably, on his part, very much a conscious
collective image. So there actually is the artist working for the state. But
obviously he couldn’t do it if he wasn’t on the goddamn spot himself.
Frampton: The spot being the problem of reconciling his own particularities
with what had been presented to him as how one was supposed to be?
Brakhage: It’stwo how you are supposed to be’s. One, the primary one, is from
his childhood. Then there’s his own personal revolt, which puts him in the way
of being representative of the other.
I think anytime any artist is working, he’s working with material that’s so
disturbing to him, it’s just like a scientist picking up pieces one of which might
be distilled radium. Haven’t you had that sense when you’re putting two pieces
of film together, that it might burn you to a crisp?
Frampton: Absolutely.
Brakhage: That sounds too much, though, like the condition is heroic.
I'm always in terror that I'll never be permitted to make another film. You
know, the real danger is that I'll start believing the role I’ve created for myself,
or that others have created for me, and that this will become such a viable and
totally acceptable role in the world that I'll start living it, and then there’ll be
no need to create anymore. Why should there? I mean then Ill have a place in
the world, like everybody else. The trouble is that if that had happened to me
BGRAEBOOK@ENE a
just naturally between the ages of one and six, or even by the time I was 18, I
probably wouldn’t be an artist. I'd be going around in the world fulfilling my
role. But it didn’t. The film is a by-product... and a very useful by-product.
Hopefully, if it is an art, then it’s a useful by-product in the sense that I can use
it again and again to re-experience.
Frampton: As a magical amulet to hang around your neck, to ward off evil?
Brakhage: | don’t know. Maybe people who make objects feel that way about
it. But how can you feel that way about film, which is a continuity art? In film,
the closest metaphor is the thought process, so “remind myself” would be the
most correct way to put it, because film has the ability to be closest to thought
process in its continuities.
Frampton: Just by virtue of its being continuous?
Brakhage: Yes. I do think that the way people name it has a lot to do with it. I
think that kino has a lot to do with Russian cinema.
Frampton: The name means move, it means movies.
Brakhage: Cinema means something a little different, it has that tendency, in
the world-language, to be going on to imply cinematographer which means
writer of movement. And I think that kind of distinction, while it’s small, grows
from its small acorn across the span of 50 years and takes a very strong effect.
Film is our word. That’s how independent makers distinguish themselves
from the pros, who make movies. So it’s ghosts we’re after, as a group, although
every single one of us is changing that continually, and at some point it will be
so thoroughly changed that the word ‘film’ won’t be used anymore, or it will be
changed after 25 years or we'll drop that word.
Again, it’s a question of “making place.” And then there’s this aspect of it
that I begin to be aware of. I become aware, at a very early age that I’m not
sharing the world of vision that I’m supposed to in order to exist in the general
air with all the people around me. What a terrifying situation! What to do?
O.K. then 20 years later I begin to be perfectly aware that the place I’d made
for myself, and the altering of sight that occurs absolutely contingent with that,
is similarly embarrassing young kids all over the world and just those I would
most sympathize with.
Well, I’ve brooded on this on dark nights. I can never quite bring myself to
say, “Ah, fuck it, that’s their problem”... which is the extent to which I am
‘social’... and it worries me.
Frampton: That’s because it has been your problem.
Brakhage: So an awful lot of this talk we do, and a lot of the writing and the
teaching, and an awful lot of study, has been trying to find some way to slip this
goddamn knot altogether. There is the kind of man that goes out to level all the
buildings that interfere with the new landscape, that he and some few others
envision. Eisenstein had a lot of that fire in him too. I feel him trembling at
times, always on the edge of wanting to cut the Gordian knot. He was stubborn.
174
4 eee eeeE
BRAKHAG

He was a good stubborn man. It all holds together once you begin to see him as
human. He’s also very toughened by the time the Politburo is telling him how
to live. He’s used to evading that since he was six or so. . . people were telling
him how to live or fuck or whatever so he’s toughened. And that’s another thing
all artists seem to share—something has toughened them. Usually it’s that
they don’t accept it, so they’re in a tough spot. Right from scratch. Then,
something that they’ve embraced in their not fitting not only doesn’t fit with the
society around them but is obviously enough to get their heads cut off. If
everyone realized what is perfectly true, that they don’t fit... if each person
realized how distinct and unique he or she is, well, then, art would become
normal everyday expression. And people would swap their artifacts or works of
art or their words as naturally as they now swap slogans that are handed to them
by the State. Art is personal in the making and it is personal in the apprecia-
tion. All that I try to do in my lectures, and when I teach in Chicago, is
demonstrate my personal appreciation. The outside social hope is that it will
inspire others to demonstrate theirs, or at least to have theirs. That if I can do
it, then anyone else can make up his own Eisenstein. I made up my Eisenstein,
or at least the Eisenstein that was real to me at the time of writing that essay on
Eisenstein. [Sergei Eisenstein,” The Brakhage Lectures, Chicago, 1972.]
Having done that, anyone else can. Mine is certainly unique and personal...
which is why it gets attacked. Consider the level of the argument against it—
that J am in it, that I am visible in it. Ken Kelman said, about the essays in
general, that I had done a good job of fitting into the shoes of other film makers,
but that always a big Brakhage toe sticks out!
Frampton: Let’s extend this a bit. If everyone is free to make up his own
Eisenstein, then everyone’s likewise free to make up his own Stan Brakhage.
Brakhage: Right. Absolutely right.
Frampton: In this case we have a little help from Stan Brakhage?
Brakhage: Now there’s the trouble with artists being living. That’s why people
so much prefer for artists to be dead, because anybody free to make up his own
Stan Brakhage can give me the feeling that I have not found any kind of place
in the world. Having done that I will naturally explode or fight back or argue or
scream or cry or do something embarrassing.
Frampton: You're saying that there are thousands of Stan Brakhages, but
they’re all in other people’s heads... which leaves you in an embarrassing
position.
Brakhage: | may be so, that’s preferable to everybody agreeing on who Stan
Brakhage is, and then beating Stan Brakhage over the heads of the coming
generation, which is the thing normally that’s done. I had my own head beaten
bloody by Sergei Eisenstein, whose work I loved, and whose tradition I was
working, absolutely lineally, to spring my own traps. And the horror that that is
SGRARDGOK@MEN tS
happening now, with my work, to another generation of people, really sits
heavily on my sore head.
Frampton: It has also been used, for as long as I’ve known your work to beat
you yourself over the head. After Anticipation of the Night you were beaten
over the head with the psychodramas.
Brakhage: Well, that’s always very confusing too. Here again we have Eisens-
tein and the Politburo. I guess he never lived down Battleship Potemkin. What
to do about that? It happens because people have such a narrow view of person,
because most people are trapped in a narrow view of themselves, which they’ve
been forced into by social expediency. Not by social necessity. I do not
subscribe to the despair of the old Sigmund Freud, in Civilization and its
Discontents, for instance. But it is expedient to regard anything narrowly.
To put it simply: in the name of “progress,” an extensive view of human
personality has been almost destroyed as a possibility of consideration for most
people, There’s really no problem in seeing that the same man who made
Anticipation of the Night then made Dog Star Man, then made Scenes From
Under Childhood, and is now doing the films I’m doing. There’s really no
problem with that at all, because you have one absolute surety to go on, and
that’s style. I had thought to emphasize that by signing those works. It takes me
hours to scratch on film: By Brakhage. Certainly since Desistfilm that’s been
there as a possibility for most of my films. If I can sign checks while leaning on
a steering wheel, while sitting at my desk, while I’m raging, while I’m sad,
while I’m happy, while I’m writing quickly, while I’m working slow. . . and all
these checks obviously bear the signature of Stan Brakhage, which is
absolutely defensible in a court of law by a handwriting analyst, and is imme-
diately obvious to most people on sight, then why is it that most people have so
much difficulty recognizing style in art?
Frampton: | think it has to do with a constricted definition of style that has
arisen particularly with regard to plastic arts, in the last 20 years or so: that it is
not something that can be as various as the signature of one person, but that it
is as fixed as the same signature repeated exactly by a forger.
Brakhage: What you’re saying is that there’s such a degree of forgery in the
world that it has made style suspect.
Frampton: I wrote recently that style is the adoption of a fixed perceptual
distance from the object. That was in connection with 19th-century photo-
graphy, and I used Julia Margaret Cameron as an example but I had very much
in mind any number of painters of my own generation, who are very careful to
demonstrate constantly a step-by-step continuity in their development, from
one work to the next.
Brakhage: That’s interesting to me because I used to know my continuities like
the alphabet. I knew not only the orders of the films made, but I knew almost to
176SEB RAKE
the month and certainly the year when each film was completed, when the
shooting was done, or editing or whatever. Since we’ve moved here, to this
location in the mountains, that’s ceased to be so. I can tell you when the first
two or three films were made when we came here; and I can tell you the order
and the months of the last six months. But I cannot really differentiate any of
the rest. That’s interesting. So I’m thinking that for a while there was that
determination to hold each step in mind and build a progression, as if I were
making a ladder.
Frampton: Is it something that happened in your work because you came here?
Or was it simply because of the time in your life?
Brakhage: I think both. For many years I was thinking I was getting out of
something. There were steps in the direction of finding my place in the world.
This place, after all, carries the exactitude that we have lived here eight years
now. That length of time I never lived anywhere else on earth or anywhere near
it. So that ’'ve found my place in the literal physical sense.
And I’ve become aware that I’ll never find my place in the world. . . and that
all that I can do is keep making elbow room in the general air. I can toss out
some metaphor for this aspect of myself and some metaphor for that, but it’s
unending.
But that hasn’t anything to do with the creative act. What I mean is, that I
feel as if the creative powers use my social embarrassment, and whatever else
is useful, to permit the making of the work; and I feel that in an equal degree
while ’m working on something, making place for the particularities of my
vision, and my thought processes, my own physiology, in the world. So that’s
an absolutely poised shared experience: a dance, you could say, between my
sense of myself and something that I don’t know anything about... or a mys-
tery.
Frampton: That verb make comes up again and again—make place, make
sense, make a work of art, make love —with two implications I think. First, as
taking an active posture toward something. And second, with an implication
that things that must be made have a kind of half-life, that unless they’re
continuously restored and regenerated, we run out. Why do we say make love
for instance? Suggesting that it has to be remade...
Jane: Maybe it does.
Brakhage: I completely believe that.
Frampton: Like a radioactive substance that gives out energy and is
diminished and needs to be augmented.
Jane: Making your image!
Brakhage: Yes, which is always very important to me; after all that’s how I got
into this in the first place. That’s how they, if there is any they, dragged me into
this.
BORABBOOK@mee oT
Well, there is a “they.” I just don’t know if this unnameable likes to be
referred to as a “they.” I am very clear that I receive instructions from the
outside. I have had no question about this since I was editing Cat’s Cradle; and
certainly since Sirus Remembered I have had no questions about it. At times I
have questioned it—but I have had no questions about it. It’s made me think
about younger artists a lot; and I think the young depend very much, not only
on a lot of instructions, but depend on drama. As I get older, I don’t depend on
drama.
In fact, I begin to have a sense that I understand something of what it is to be
an old artist. And it’s something so simply wonderful as being granted a
responsibility for what’s been given you to do. . . as distinct from being charged
continually with forces you have absolutely no control over. I’ve seen many
artists begin to make this transition. I’m watching Paul Sharits begin to make
it, for instance. Actually in S:TREAM:SS:ECTION:-S:ECTION:S:SEC-
TIONED, Sharits presented us with the voices of the Muses, literally on the
sound track. Having done that, he had certainly a more comfortable relation-
ship with them. The relationship, in getting older, is a less dramatic relation-
ship with what some men call the Muses, and much more...
Frampton: What we used to call intercourse, in politer days?
Brakhage: Yes, I think so. A shared responsibility, maybe. Do you know the
story about Paul, and how he came to that sound track on
S:TREAM:SS:ECTION:S:ECTION:S:SECTIONED? That was the sound he
heard while working on some film—not, I believe, this one—when he was
sitting late at night in his little room in Baltimore. And he couldn’t stop the
sound, it kept coming back. There are infuriating aspects to the voices of the
Muses which were captured beautifully for us by Rameau in that piece called
The Conversation of the Muses. In fact, people should really listen both to the
sound track on S:STREAM:SS:ECTION:S:ECTION:S:SECTIONED and that
piece by Rameau. There can be no question, while we may not know what it is
we’re talking about—‘Muse’ may be only a very inferior term—that there is
something that artists share. Some refer to them as whisperings, some as
outright visions, some as sounds, or ways in which sounds in the surrounding
atmosphere gang up and produce effects on their nervous systems. It’s a pity no
one ever thought, to ask, say, Eisenstein about it.
Frampton: He would have felt constrained not to answer.
Brakhage: Yes, he probably would have. But, it’s surprising. You'd think that
certain men would never give any answer in relationship to anything that is the
contemporary experience of something. And then they surprise you. For
instance, I can believe that Eisenstein might somewhere have left some such
statement, because I have seen D. W. Griffith’s statement (and I am paraphras-
ing it, but I am very close): all that I really want to do is to make you see. Now,
me BRAKE
that’s about the last statement in the world that I ever would have expected to
share with Griffith. And the only change I would make in it is the obvious one: I
would change the word make. But he was, after all, very involved with social
drama... he wanted to make people see. And, look, in the very beginning we
have the implication of Muses in film—in Méliés’ work, in no uncertain terms,
however humorous the context.
But of course people really haven’t accepted film as an art form yet. And
until that becomes a general assumption, we’re certainly asking too much to
expect people to consider how the Muses operate in relationship to the creative
act in film. But actually, in the 20th century, it’s embarrassing to mention
these things, because everybody’s so concerned with the social usability of art;
there’s nothing very usable about what most people would regard as madness.
Thinking over how I work today, and how I used to work, and what slight
difference there is... it goes along with the whole change in my life. When I
was younger, I really couldn’t find much significance except in a dramatic
confrontation. It isn’t an older person’s sense of living to be dependent on
drama. As you get older you see the damage that it does, for one thing, and you
feel it more. Then, the minute you begin giving up pieces of that form of
knowledge, then you discover so many others. I shouldn’t say you, that means
Pm not quite sure what I’m trying to say. I discover many other ways to be
informed, and many other ways to elbow myself, my physiology, a little place
in the world, than through dramatic confrontation. And as I do so my whole life
changes incredibly. The work process doesn’t depend on dramatic confronta-
tion. This is why it isn’t important to me anymore to know which film came
when.
Again, some men were not permitted that. We were talking about style
earlier, and you said there have been so many forgeries in the world that people
are no longer cashing esthetic checks on the basis of style. Consider this
though. Who are the forgers of Méliés? What are their names? When you say
Melies you get, right away, a sense of style. Now tell me, who’s forged that
style? We’re not talking about the grammar he’s left, or the things he’s given
socially; we’re talking about style. Come on, give up! No one has!
Frampton: | do. You're right.
Brakhage: The closest you come. .. and you have to leap all the way. . . is Jean
Cocteau. And I certainly wouldn’t call him a forger of Méliés. He’s just the
only one who picked up on Méliés’ style sufficiently to let it quiver in his work
every now and again.
Frampton: I heard a demurrer from you, Jane.
Jane: | don’t think he forged Méliés at all.
Brakhage: No, I didn’t mean that he did. I only meant that he was sufficiently
aware of Méliés’ style.
Seu
sEeCGK@eeeeee
SCRAPBOOK

Jane: You shouldn’t have said that he did.

Brakhage: All right, let’s take another one. Let’s take the big chief in the
line-up, Sergei Eisenstein. Who forged his stuff? Same thing: no one. Now
let’s cap it. Who’s forged Stan Brakhage’s style? O.K., a lot of names come
suddenly to mind as possibilities. But I’m sure they did with each of these
men, in their time, because at the time something is being made, the style is
not seen or perceived clearly enough to distinguish the forgeries.
In fact, we know that there were many forgers of Méliés. And there were
forgeries upon forgeries, and the forgers became much more successful than
Meéliés, and that’s how he was beat out. We know that... but where are they?
Nobody could ever bear to look at them 20 years later, or we’d have a few of
them around.
Frampton: What a paradox this is: the Master ends up in the candy store and
the forgers go into oblivion!
Brakhage: And we know people’s sensibilities change incredibly. For
instance, Edison lined up a string quartet on the Carnegie Hall stage, in front
of a supposedly experienced audience, and had fake strings on all their
instruments, and fooled the audience with a cylinder recording of a quartet
played while they went through the motions. No one could pull that stuff today.
Frampton: But then it also seems unthinkable that people in France and the
Soviet Union ran around behind the screen to look for the actors in the Lumiere
films. They were black and white, for God’s sake.
Brakhage: And people recognized themselves in Meélies’ Dreyfus Trial — peo-
ple who’d been to the trial took it as a newsreel footage and recognized
themselves among what was actually a crew of actors. That’s the whole basic
trick... which brings us to another interesting point. We ave in a continuum.
Now that we see that forgery only operates within a time-bound context, and
therefore can’t be anything more than a brief distraction from what an art is—
or from what the style of the man who made it is—then we come to the question:
what about a lineal tradition?
My big problem has been, all these years, that no one has recognized that I
(and all my contemporaries) are working in a lineal tradition of Melies, Grif-
fith, Dreyer, Eisenstein, and all the other classically accepted film makers.
Why not? Why are they unable to recognize that? I took my first cues for fast
cuts from Eisenstein, and I took my first senses of parallel cutting from
Griffith, and I took my first senses of the individual frame life of a film from
Méliés, and so on. Why has it taken so long for anyone to recognize this as a
lineal tradition? Why did we all have to go through that terrible embarrassment
of the late 60s when we were presented to the world as though we sprang
full-blown, completely new, from an LSD dream? Why is it that those men who
studied grammar, even of Griffith and Eisenstein, were so slow in recognizing
 180 0
180 eee BRAKHAG
ee ee E

that? In fact, most of them still don’t and would rather curl up like the Wicked
Witch of the... North?
Jane: West!
Brakhage: . . . ina pool of black smoke, than acknowledge that lineal tradition.
Frampton: We live in a‘heroic’ culture. We live in the midst of ‘masterpieces.’
Brakhage: Do we?
Frampton: Well, we certainly don’t.
Brakhage: { think maybe there’s a simpler explanation: that they never were
really looking at the person or the personal style of Eisenstein.
Frampton: Which is to say, they never looked at the films.
Brakhage: Exactly. They never looked at the art of the films.
Jane: What were they looking at?
Brakhage: The trickery. And the “social significance,” as it’s called. Well, to
be graceful about it, maybe this is the only use most people have for art. In
fact, one could let them have it that way, if they weren’t so mean about it. I
don’t particularly care, for instance, if people really don’t want to interest
themselves in obsession or vision.
used to care a lot. But I guess I was beaten in my arguments with P. Adams
Sitney, years ago. He just simply did not want to close his eyes and see
hypnagogically, so that he would have some sense why I was hand-painting
film a frame at atime. Finally, I’ve made peace with that. Why should he, if he
doesn’t want to? But on the other hand, as long as he and many others busy
themselves with pronouncing to the world what we are, what the artist is, then
there’s bound to be a continual fuss in the relationship between us.

TAPE Two

Brakhage: It’s my problem, at the moment, that I am once again, or let’s say
especially for the first time, trying to make a portrait of Jane. This is after years
and years of Jane’s image being central to film after film after film. And this is
weighted with the problem that every now and again Jane will say, well, you’ve
never gotten an image of me. So here I go for the first time —again.
Frampton: Why is it that he can’t make a portrait of you Jane?
Jane: He just uses me.
Brakhage: Oh, boy, now I’m in trouble! The whole women’s lib movement at
this instant descends on me like a puddle of Harpies!
Jane: lve just been doing something like having a baby, or minding the kids,
or standing around or something. And he just photgraphs a woman having a
SCRAPBOOK,
baby, sweeping the floor, or making a bed. It’s the making of the bed or
whatever Jane does with it.
Frampton: Jane, you have to realize that, from the outside, you are presumably
the most profoundly differentiated and individuated woman in the history of
film—and, probably, one of the most completely differentiated persons in the
history of art.
Jane: Hmm. You really think so?
F Ronee You can look it up in the goddamned library, Jane. Of course you
are!
Jane: Where? Who said that?
Frampton: I said it. Then you cut your long hair off and fucked it up.
Jane: There, that’s just what I mean...
Brakhage: I think that’s probably why she cut off her hair.
Jane: That’s right!
Frampton: You felt, then, that you had no life outside your cinematic myth,
that you were becoming a movie star, in fact, that kind of object.
Jane: Yes, an appendage.
Brakhage: !'m sure Saskia must have felt similarly, Saskia who was asked to
dress in all those fancy costumes so that Rembrandt could paint her as this,
that and the other. He used himself in the same sense.
Jane: | didn’t resent it. I just feel that that’s the case, that’s how it is.
Brakhage: Yl be the first to say bullshit.
Jane: That was years ago that I did care, and now I| don’t, and now you can
make the goddamn film because I don’t give a shit.
Frampton: Id like to remind both of you that I am the interviewer here.
Jane: What kind of rights do you have here?
Brakhage: Why don’t you whip your camera out and make another film, Bride
of Critical Mass? No, let me finish what I was going to say. I think actually what
it is—I think everybody will recognize this as a truth—is that you just want
more. And that’s perfectly reasonable, and I am willing to comply...
Jane: | don’t want anymore.
Brakhage: ... because I have that necessity. I have never been able to make
anything for you or for anyone else, actually. I’ve tried to make children’s films
for the children. At times I’ve really felt I would swap everything else [ve
accomplished to be the Hans Christian Anderson of film. But I cannot commis-
sion a children’s film from myself. I’ve tried to make films for Jane, and they
always fail very quickly and I throw them away. In fact, they've never been
seen. But she, rightfully, always wants more and more. This really is her
inspiring function in the creative process.
Frampton: Do you feel this way about his portraits of other people, Jane?
Jane: Scenes From Under Childhood is maybe really a thorough thing. But
182
e
182 0 ea e BRAKHAGE

that’s the only thorough thing I can think of, unless the Pittsburgh films, which
are documentary, and therefore more objective, so the cops can be seen as “out
there.” Most of his stuff is inward.
Frampton: You have always the feeling he’s making a portrait of himself?
Jane: Yes.
Brakhage: | agree.
Frampton: That’s why you say you're simply part of a pretext for that self-
portrait. Has the case ever been otherwise for an artist?
Jane: Yes, that’s a good question.
Brakhage: I can state it better than that. Has the case ever been otherwise for
any human being, ever?
Jane: So I quit complaining, because I felt that that was not something that he
could do.
Brakhage: You see, to accomplish that feeling that you designate as “out
there,” with relationship to the images of the police in eyes, the clearest way to
accomplish that is in drama. And drama is where the art completely and totally
lies in order to state a truth. If we’d been making drama films all these years,
and you were an actress, then there would be many images of you that would
seem “out there” in the sense that the police do in that film.
Frampton: You do have a film between you which very precisely mimes the
Aeschylean drama, and that’s Wedlock House: an Intercourse, in which the
camera is tossed back and forth like the stichomathy in Greek argument, and
the camera is the impersonal messenger that brings everybody bad news.
Jane: We did that in Scenes From Under Childhood too, in one of the last parts.
Brakhage: We were “acting,” as all people do when they quarrel. To the extent
to which we act, we give the appearance of being “out there.” The Pittsburgh
police were, surely, continually acting. In fact an enormous part of their job is
to act; so it is with doctors, with all public servants.
Frampton: So it is with teachers. We know as teachers the classroom is a great
theater.
Brakhage: Certainly. So to the extent that we have ever been acting, there’s a
sense of a presence “out there.” But that to me is the same as what got me, and
every other artist, into this in the first place. The act, the general shared public
act, is, for some reason, not possible, to a man or a woman. And if that man or
woman still chooses to attempt to relate to all these others in their social acts,
he or she is then forced to make his or her own act, an act that will accom-
modate the necessities of the person. And there is a beginning of an art.
There are two interests in art. Robert Duncan is curiously always very
dedicated to the theatrical act. This is why he was so fascinated with Ingmar
Bergman, for instance. He was interested in that sense of making, that you
“make it up,” with all kinds of conscious trickery, into a vast lie which is then
SCRAPBOOK
so removed from ordinary living experience that it serves as a truth, a truth
which carries the feeling that it is “out there.” I’m not against this way of
creating. In fact I guess this is where I started—I started with drama. For
instance Janis Hubka probably recognizes herself very much better in the first
film I made, Interim, than you [Jane] ever have. . . because we’ve been so little
involved in drama since we’ve known each other. There’s no real sense of there
being an “out there.”
Jane: lm no kind of an actress.
Frampton: Hear, hear, bravo, encore!
Jane: Gee, is it that bad?
Brakhage: | have tremendous necessity to keep re-seeing Jane, and all my
many ways of seeing are engaged with her continually. And of course some of
them have never been used. And some of them are very habit-bound. And I
shudder at the thought of those artists who continue to paint and repaint their
loved ones in the same fashion, in the same situation.
Frampton: As if, by some kind of magic, to freeze them in a snapshot.
Brakhage: To hold to the original vision. Yes, that’s a good term for it—the
snapshot approach to it. For one thing I’m fascinated right now to make a film
bouncing the light off Jane, which is something I have never really done, and to
make it a film that’s totally about her, in the sense that all its considerations
center on her. And that I’ve never done.
Frampton: Do you like to have light bouncing off you, Jane?
Jane: I'm trying, I’m trying.
Brakhage: Well, I said it wrongly. I don’t bounce the light. I turn on a bulb,
and don’t have megalomaniac senses that I bounce the light in so doing—or I
set up an elaborate lighting apparatus and aim it this way and that way. But I
really catch the light. That’s what it’s all about.
Frampton: You catch what’s leftover—after Jane is through with the light.
Brakhage: O.K.., let’s get it straight, after Jane is through with the light I catch
it. That’s the normal condition of my life anyway, so that should work for
something magnificent.
Jane: What is your interest in light?
Brakhage: | see so many qualities of light, so many things that seem to be light
but aren’t anywhere categorized as such or spoken of as such or referred to by
other people as such. I always have, and as I get older I see more and more. I
see so many qualities of light continually, every day constantly new ones and
new aspects of old ones, that it’s become a normal condition. At this time in my
life it is the variety of the quality of light that I see, and live with daily, that
removes me most from feeling I share sight with other people.
Frampton: And that leads you to the necessity of making something that will
share that sight with other people?
RAR
if
Brakhage: Yes.
Frampton: You've spent a lot of time attempting a very exact registration of the
seeing process. But the prime condition of seeing, at all, is light, the carrier
wave which makes everything visible, which visible things modulate, change
and so forth. And that seems to be a very recent shift of focus in your interests.
Brakhage: It’s not recent, because it was a long time ago that I was startled by
Scotus Erigena’s, ‘All things that are, are light.’ Along with all the many gifts
of Ezra Pound, this was certainly one of the most startling and immediately
meaningful to me. Because even if it were, as it first sounded to me, an absurd
statement in the face of my scientific prejudices, it still expressed beautifully
the natural condition of the film maker at the moment of making. And of late
that phrase has come back to me again in many forms—one of the most
beautiful of which is Hugh Kenner’s exposition of it (and all other aspects of
light in Ezra Pound’s work) in his book The Pound Era. It comes back to me at
a time when I really need it because slowly and gradually over the years my
attention to the world in relationship to light has increased my seeing of all
kinds of things that other people either don’t see, or don’t admit they see. . . or
don’t have any way to admit they see. So now I take that statement very much
more literally. One can make scientific arguments about it. So much of every-
thing we know—and it’s hard to think of anything for which this is not so—is,
in its state, because of light. Let alone whether we see it or not. Year after year
more and more things began to seem to me to glow. Having been raised by
Germans in Kansas, and being fussy, I troubled myself to try to figure out if I
was superimposing this glow upon things, in my mind’s eye, or if things were
coming from some outside and pressing on my brain at the point where it
surfaces as an eye. And finally, even through some experiments, I came to
convince myself at least some of these extraordinary things were certainly
coming from the outside and pressing in on me.
So far I’m just talking about an intrinsic light that seems to be emanating
from all things. I wrote, when younger, about certain experiments that Jane
and I made with qualities of light, like ‘elfskin,’ for instance, which term we
got out of old Saxon by way of Michael McClure. That is, the quality of light
that emanates from all beings. But that was too general a sight. Finally I found
a way to make some equivalent of it by combining high contrast positive and
negative film, slightly off register. That gave an approximate of that thing we
were seeing, that we and Michael were calling ‘elfskin,’ and were presuming
that maybe the Saxons did.
But now there are so many qualities, that that seems just one among hun-
dreds. Other qualities of glow from. . . not only beings, but all objects.
Now let’s take another sense of light. That light that we more normally refer
to, light that comes from the sun and bounces around here on earth, by which
SGRAECOGK@MENEEEOEM SS
we see. I suppose for a long time I had a normal relationship with that light, or
thought I did. But one day I knew rain was coming. I asked myself how I knew.
We get many scuttling clouds that go over and deposit nothing... but I knew
rain was coming! And then Isaw it. I saw streaks of whitish lines, almost as if
drawn, or as if comic-strip drawn, very quickly coming down on a slant into the
ground. There was a feeling that this was being sucked into the ground, that
these were actually being pulled, as if by gravity. These lines were, in fact, a
metaphor for rain. Very shortly thereafter rain began to fall. Because of my
scientific upbringing I tested myself. Again and again, as I sat on the porch, I
would ask myself, as one cloud or another looking promising passed over, is it
going to rain or not? And I finally was producing a 100% record. Because
before every actual rain there came this light manifestation. It looked like
streaks of light, metaphors of the coming rain.
By now, I’ve seen so many other similar qualities of light that precede a
material manifestation, that the question came to my mind: maybe everything
that’s taken shape on earth, had its shape defined for it by light, by some
quality of light, before it came into existence. I even thought maybe that’s what
ghosts or spirits are, maybe that shape humans have taken was preceded by
that which we call angels, or demons, or ghosts. I see them; and what am I to do
with having seen them? The best that you can do, is to try to determine if you’re
making it up.
For instance, I have seen angels. That is, in the 20th century, a rather
embarrassing sort of thing to admit. I have seen figures, usually with wings or
something like wings, that are in a tradition of what we call ‘angels’ when
referring to painting or sculpture in Western art. After I’m through the experi-
ence of seeing them, then I rummage my mind, and this whole bag of books
over here, to see if I can find an angel that’s like the one I saw, or a composite of
angels that would have made up mine. To try to figure out if my mind has taken
many parts of angels out of the history of painting and projected one in front of
me. I’ve never found anything at all like what I saw. Angels are quite a
tradition, you know. It doesn’t begin with Christianity. Just one sculpture that
shows that angels aren’t Christian is the Victory of Samothrace. East and West
there is a tradition of angels, which have been expressed in various forms of
art.
These visions occur, these days, normally, and just as something passing.
They don’t occur in any way that would be particularly dramatic, helpful, or
useful. And so with the qualities of light. I see light that appears to pool. It
appears to be a glow that’s as if it had weight and liquid substance. It doesn’t
pool in holes in the ground, necessarily, or any depression. But it pools as if
there were some hole there. And it is of a glow that’s all of what we call light, as
we extend that term to phosphorescence. It happens quite normally. And
196 EEEEEBRAKBAGE
there’s also a quality of light that streams over the ground; and I’ve seen it
running absolutely counter to the blow of the wind. Just streaming, in all
senses as if it were a charged or phosphorescent mass of floating liquid. In fact,
it looks very much like a mountain stream, only it’s a slight differentiation of
qualities of light coming from the sun, and bouncing in the ordinary ways that
we recognize and refer to.
Now if there’s no other value in all this, there is at least this specifically for
me at this time —that I can’t photograph it. The materials of film are too clearly
attuned to some other quality of light, or too gross or too inferior or whatever to
be receptive to these qualities of light. I find myself in the position of having to
search out an equivalent. So I am back in the same spot I was when I realized
that I couldn’t photograph closed-eye vision. I could not get a camera inside
my head so I painted on film to get as near an equivalent I could of things. I
was, yes, seeing, but had no way to photograph. Here again I cannot photo-
graph so I have to search for equivalents that will give something of the quality
of what I’m seeing. Well, that takes me back to the absolute beginning—
because, all along, all I or anybody else have been able to do, is create by
whatever means — film or any other art —an equivalent of what we were seeing.
Frampton: That’s a classic defintition of the artist’s problem.
Jane: It’s a weird thing to do in the first place.
Brakhage: Yes, it is, isn’t it? But if you think about it, it’s so beautiful,
because only by doing such a weird thing could you actually get involved in
trying to create an equivalent for something that most people weren’t already
seeing. | mean you begin trying to get an equivalent that’s rather close cousin
to whatever anybody else is seeing.
And this is the value of the classics and of the other artists that the young
man adores and worships. His life depends on them, because they have,
through their personal needs, taken a thing so far and then here comes...
myself as a young man, and I know that my eyes are doing this and that and the
other and suddenly Eisenstein is giving me a beginning of an equivalent to do
something that /’m doing. And this isn’t really taking something further; the
process here is the adjusting of my equivalents to his.
Frampton: So you find you are not, after all, so very particular, that there are
needs you share with others?
Brakhage: It’s more that, if nothing else that the works that I make can be close
to his. If I can’t live reasonably in a world of standard cliché visions, at least
my films can live in a world of developing visions along with his. I don’t really
feel that I could actually get along with Sergei Eisenstein any easier than I
might with my mother. But I can sense that the works can share a world.
Presumably, then, later, other people will share something, such as is useful
to them. I’m trying to find a way not to put down the normal decision of most
SUR
RECOOKMMENEN
people to accept a limited vision in order to communicate with each other.
That’s their business, if they want to do that. I would probably do it too, if it
were possible.
Jane: Why do we have to communicate with each other?
Frampton: I don’t really think there’s any question about having to; we simple
do it. That’s Ray Birdwhistell’s paean to inevitability.
Brakhage: Let’s be careful of the word communication though, to absolutely
distinguish it from, say, Stan Vanderbeek’s sense of the word communication.
I think that’s a very dangerous word. I don’t really mean that I want to
communicate with other people in that sense of getting my message all the way
over, or I'd have maybe tried to become a polititian. That’s what makes
certainly a dictator—that absolute insistence on total communication. In my
case it had to do with the eyes. I wanted to share a sight. That’s not the same as
telling “them” about that sight. I wanted to feel like I lived in the same world
with other people. That’s not the same as communicating. My primary neces-
sity was not that they understand me, or obviously ’'d never have become an
artist. My primary need was that, at some point, I share a sight with them. Is
that fair and clear? Does that make sense? I want to say it right?
Jane: It’s you you’re talking about.
Brakhage: If 1 had needed to show them “sights,” then presumably I'd have
gone to Hollywood.
Jane: You can see how that doesn’t necessarily have to be a very widespread
need.
Brakhage: To tell you the truth I don’t even think it’s very important. I don’t
think it has much to do with the creative act. We’re back again to talking about
what creative forces use, in people, to prompt a man or a woman to lend
themselves to creativity. You know one of the nicest simple social definitions
of an art that I have ever heard came from the brother of Robert Oppenheimer,
Frank Oppenheimer. He is a very nervous scientist, who’s suffered particu-
larly because of the things that happened to his brother, and a very attentuated
man. And one day he simply said, “I always think that an art just says: now see
this, now hear this.”
Frampton: But you imply an extended and intensified sense of ‘see’ and ‘hear,’
do you not? You have talked about seeing as a registration of the whole
electromagnetic spectrum. When you speak about seeing as a metaphoric
precedent for coming rain, you extend the sense of seeing to include anything
that is light.
Brakhage: But would people say that you could call this light? What about
what it is that I see as a pool? What about the streams I see move along the
ground, contrary to the wind? What about those things that Wilhelm Reich
suggested...that I have seen? He sees a certain quality of movement of a
we BRAKHAGE
glowing particle in the air, billions of glowing particles, that make a little
half-spiral. And he called this orgone energy, and he tried to use it to cure
cancer. .. or at least he tried to see whatever curative effect there might be in
it. He’s the only person who referred in writing to something that I was seeing.
Among these particles there’s another quality that looks like light, like a
light particle that has a particular movement. I can see it with my eyes open,
and with my eyes closed. I see it very intensely in the blue sky when I relax my
eyes. It fills that blue with golden movement, and I see the sky as gold. I have
performed one of his experiments, that proved to me satisfactorily that it was
“out there,” because it would magnify through closed eyes. Now, he refers to it
as blue, I do yellow. That’s no problem, blue and yellow being so inter-
changeable on the optic nerve level. I’m sure, by a simple shift of attention, I
could see the blue. I prefer to see them yellow. And at that point people can
rush in and say, well, so you prefer to see them yellow, you prefer to see them.
You create them, you invent them. But I was seeing them for a long time before
I ever read anything by Wilhelm Reich, so here was another voice that sus-
tained me. Someone else was seeing something of some such thing, to put it in
a nice Gertrude Stein phrase.
What I ponder on, and what I suppose I’m going to think more about as I get
older and older is, can’t I just make films and stop talking about it? I would be
horrified by people who would insist on this system of qualities of light, and
derive it from me, and apply it to my films. . . |would be as horrified by that as I
was by P. Adams Sitney’s absolute refusal to close his eyes and see if he
couldn’t see something that was related to the painting on my film. He made a
very strong refusal. It was Jane who put me at peace with that. She said, leave
him alone, why does he have to do that? And in the long run that’s safer...
because the other way leads to a religion. They'll make a religion out of it.
Frampton: If your own eye insists upon your absolute right to feel different,
then it must also confirm the absolute right of others to feel different.
Brakhage: That’s right. Then, the minute P. Adams refused to search for his
own hypnagogic vision, we had our next quarrel, which sprang up when I said I
am the most thorough documentary film maker in the world because I docu-
ment the act of seeing as well as everything that the light brings me. And he
said nonsense, of course, because he had no fix on the extent to which I was
documenting. He and many others are still trying to view me as an imaginative
film maker, as an inventor of fantasies or metaphors.
Frampton: You are saying, along with Confucius: “I have added nothing.”
Brakhage: Yes, I have added nothing. I’ve just been trying to see and make a
place for my seeing in the world at large, that’s all. And I’ve been permitting
myselfto be used by some forces that are totally mysterious to me, to accom-
plish something that satisfies me more than what I thought I was setting out to
do.
SCRAPBOOK 189

Art is the reaching out to this phenomenon or light or moving creatures

around us—I don’t even know what the hell to call it. I have no name for it.
And the extent to which different societies at different times have decided that
everyone shares this or that relationship with the world is all some social usage
of art, long after the fact of its creating and usually after the fact of the artist’s
living. People finally decided, all of them, to see sunsets. Well, what have we
left out?
Jane: All the rest.
Brakhage: There’s not too much about specific films. I don’t know that it’s even
appropriate to talk about them.
Jane: The list is too long.
Brakhage: I don’t feel that way about them anymore. It doesn’t seem to make
much sense.
190 BRAKHAGE

INTERVIEW WITH RICHARD GROSSINGER

Grossinger: Let me begin by asking you about the new films you’re doing,
especially the set of three made in Pittsburgh.
Brakhage: I mean it’s such a damn long story. Actually, those Pittsburgh
films... they really began. . . it’s funny because I just wrote Creeley this morn-
ing after noticing something in his letter about document. . . he had reminded
me in that letter that the Pittsburgh films actually began when I made a
statement to the audience of the Carnegie Museum at my lecture-showing there
that the real reason why NASA was cut back in all its expenditures is that they
didn’t get any image from the moon, that actually, it turned out, they were
dependent on selling that as some kind of an interesting event, and they spent
maybe a billion dollars on PR over the years selling that as an interesting
event: that man takes his first step on the moon, which phrase itself is a piece of
their propaganda; I mean they did a terrific job of selling people on that idea;
but then when it came right down to it they showed them images that were...
that did not in any sense permit people, even in the Hollywood sense, to
participate in that event, have a real experience with it like you can with a work
of art. And so I was commenting to the audience in rather a flip manner
actually, I said the last person on earth NASA would ever think of sending to
the moon would be myself, for instance, or any artist; and yet that that so
clearly demonstrated the poverty of our culture, so clearly demonstrated how
unable we are as a people to make use of the artist... because it was quite
normal, I mean, for those exploratory ships out of Spain and so on, that they
would include at least a very fine draughtsman, a man who had dedicated his
life to drawing, whereas in this case they had the assumption that if they
handed a camera to any of these astronauts that they would be able to bring
back images; they would set up at.v. on the moon, and people would see it. Of
course, all that they set up, all that they got was something that looked like a
second-rate very boring science fiction movie made maybe in the ’20’s. And the
reason they got that is because you can’t. . . most people can only get an image
of something that they’ve already seen; and so they had seen science fiction
movies, and they set up their cameras, and they framed their compositions,
and they approached the whole thing, I mean, from that standpoint; and they
weren't very good even at that, so they got just the most boring pictures on
earth. In fact, these men were probably the kinds of men that, if they go on a
trip with their wives to Wyoming, she takes all the pictures. So that was the
actual beginning. I made that statement, and then I went on to explain to
people that there, at that time if you remember, which was a year ago last
September, was a lot of horrible antagonism that had built up toward the
police. It had sort of reached a peak of the Pig period at that point. And I said to
lo 14, 1973
SCRAPBOOK
a ee 191
A 8

this group of people, I said, for example we have no real image of the police; we
have none. And I for several years have been trying to get permission to ride in
a patrol car to make a film about police, for God knows whatever reasons of my
own, that when I was a child I toyed with the idea of being a policeman, so it
haunts me and I’ve also suffered very much at the hands of police for having
done no wrong whatsoever. I shouldn’t say “very much”; I’ve never been
actually arrested, but I have been beaten. So I had the policeman both as a
childhood attraction and as a bogeyman, and I said, here I am with the abilities
to see and arrive at some clear sight, and I want to make a film on police, and
the nation desperately needs an image of police, the police need an image to be
made of them, and I can’t get permission, because what am I? I am the absolute
bottom of the pile, I am an independent film-maker, I mean that’s totally
suspicious, I’m not even using that most terrifying of all terms; that is, to say
you were an artist; in America that’s still not something we can write comforta-
bly on the motel register as an occupation, and so therefore it’s not accepted,
and therefore there’s no such possibility. Well, what happened, happily, was
that Mike Chikiris, a newspaper-reporter-photographer, was in the audience,
and was that kind of person who took it tremendously seriously, and within two
days, using his... well, not so much his prestige as his actual charm, his
wonderful ability to charm people and persuade them of the necessity of
something, he managed to get me into a patrol car. Now this was one of the
times, not the first, but one of those times in my film-making experience when I
had nothing to go on, experientially, actually, in terms of what was happening.
I hadn’t been in a patrol car before, and I’ve néver known a policeman; and so
suddenly the considerations of film-making, without my thinking about it at
all, became concerned with something that I’m now puzzling in my mind about
that I call document. And this is something quite distinct and different from
documentary, and something quite distinct and different from home movies; I
was not there to get a movie of my experience of being in a patrol car; I was
there to get the most naked fix I could manage on what was transpiring. And the
previous times that have come to mind when I was also thrown on this level of
film-making in my life was when the first baby was being born and I was filming
Window Water Baby Moving, and, for another example, when I was making
three of those episodes that ended up as the film Lovemaking. So that birthed
as a reversion to earlier concerns; I picked up some threads that I’ve stumbled
into before, possibilities of seeing, and began operating. Then the thing that
happened also that was very important, a crucial moment occurred. . . . First of
all, the patrolmen drove us around for a couple of hours, and nothing hap-
pened, and they talked with us, and we talked back, and at the end of these two
hours we were getting a fairly reasonably human conversation going with them.
And then suddenly one of them looked at the other, and the other one winked,
S1927
fh ee BRAKHAGE
eS

and then the first one turned to the back seat where Mike and I were both
sitting, and said to us, “You guys seem to me to be pretty much alright”; and he
said, “We’ve actually been told just to drive you around, and take no calls,
until you get bored, and then drop you off.” He said, “But you’ve convinced us
that it’s interesting, what you want to do, so we’re going to call in and tell them
that we’ve dropped you off, at which point we'll start getting calls, if it’s alright
with you.” I said, “Sure. That was the whole idea. That’s what we’re here for.”
He said, “Well, then, you know, we have to warn you that you're... that you
have no legal right to be in this car, for instance, and if something happens that
we have to drop you off somewhere, that'll be that, you know; we’ll drop you off
wherever we are, in the middle of a riot, or whatever; you'll have to take that
chance.” I said, “Sure”; and he made that call. And the first thing that
happened: almost immediately they got a call of a dead body in the street; a
man who, in fact, as it turned out... he’d been a child molester, and the police
had just questioned him, and he had walked out of one of the precincts and had
crossed several streets, and then had laid down with his head under a truck
wheel that was stopped at a street light. The truck started up; it ran over his
head, and killed him; and I had really never in my life seen anything like that
before; and it was so dramatic and terrifying that the instant the car drove up
and there lay this man with his crushed head in the street I began filming in a
very direct way, which is, say, opposite of directed. So that was an important
moment. And then another thing happened that was very important. I had
brought along with me...I had just bought a fifteen-inch lens, and I had
brought it along with me; I don’t even know why I brought all this equipment
with me to Pittsburgh, but I had this fifteen-inch lens with me in the car and I
had never used it, and in fact the instructions on it said: you do not use this lens
without a tripod. Because a fifteen-inch lens is such a telephoto that if you
stand stockstill, just your heart beating will create an earthquake in the image;
it will look like the whole scene is shaking; and so I got out and started
photographing this body in the street, and then the homicide department
arrived and one of the homicide officers pointed at me and said, “No, no; you
don’t take pictures of the body.” And this terrified me of course because we
weren't even officially supposed to be in this car at this point, and so I went
back into the back seat of the patrol car, but I had such a desperate need to
confront this scene in the streets that I screwed on that fifteen-inch lens, which
would give me enough telephoto to shoot from the car, and I didn’t have any
tripod equipment, and I didn’t care, but I did have this behind me, that I had
spent years, in fact all my film-making life, practicing hand-holding camera,
and made many films with hand-held camera, so I knew a great deal about it,
just even instinctively; and I knew that if this image was going to shake
continually, from my heartbeat even if I was standing still, then I must make
counteractive movements to that heartbeat, and dance with my own heart
SEQUEL
beating and with my own breathing patterns, with this huge lens, and I did
that, and most people are astonished, even professionals who use this equip-
ment all the time are astonished that a fifteen-inch lens could be hand-held
and create such an articulation of movement. In fact, there are many discover-
ies of sight that fell out of this; I really feel now that the reason that the whole
world doesn’t shake in our vision as we walk along is because the muscles of
the eye make counteractive movements which smooth out the passage of
movement. Because, really, what we’re doing, we’re walking along, and this
eye is a jelly, and it’s quivering continually, with our heartbeat, with our
walking, with our breathing, with anything that happens, any movement we
make. And what I did was to make an articulate dance with that possibility,
with this lens; so that was a great discovery, that it could be done. So, then I
went on and filmed with them two days, two and a half days, and came back
and finished the film called eyes. I remember that that whole last day I had
running thru my mind: Polis is eyes, and if so, these are the public eyes, in that
same sense that we speak of the detective as the private eye, and that was
crucial to that film.
So at this point they asked me what Id like to film next in Pittsburgh, and up
to then I didn’t really realize what I was into here, and I thought that I was
really trying to get a fix on the city, and do it by strata as Ed Dorn said, and as
he also said about this form of shooting, he said, yes, shoot first, ask questions
later: what seemed to be the premise of what I was currently doing, and to get a
fix on the city, but it didn’t really turn out to be that I was trying to get a fix on
the city. I mean, I said, “Oh well, I'd like to do a hospital, ['d like to do
lawyers, politicians, gangsters even if possible,” a kind of simple-minded
notion, but I did emphasize hospitals because that was something I had had a
lot of experience with, and I wanted to see what this form of shooting that was
evolving in me would do in a confrontation with a place that I had spent a lot of
time in; I’ve been sick a lot in hospitals, almost died several times in hospitals.
This turned out to be very very difficult to arrange. Hospitals are very uptight
about having anybody photograph anything in them, but finally, after months
of negotiation through the Carnegie Museum and through Mike Chikiris’
efforts through the newspaper and so on, they managed to arrange that I could
film in West Penn. Hospital. So I flew back there at that time and I made that
film; that took about ten days, and it went right through many different rooms
and aspects of the hospital, including open heart surgery, and very often in this
I used the fifteen-inch lens, though not always, but the biggest, the greatest
moments occurred again... and thus a further miracle occurred, what seems
miraculous to me... when I was filming the open heart surgery for instance, |
was using the fifteen-inch lens, but I was backed up and I was standing on a
ladder to get back as far from the actual surgery as possible, so I could get
focused, because you can’t focus. . . particularly with the thing shut down you
Im BRAKHAGE
need, oh, twenty, thirty feet to focus a fifteen-inch lens; it doesn’t come into
focus unless you're that far back; so I couldn’t get back quite far enough to use
the lens, and I wanted that kind of articulation, of the hand-held telephoto
lens, in that open heart surgery; and so I found myself unscrewing the lens,
and when you unscrew the lens, with each fraction of an inch you get more and
more focal length, or it gets closer and closer to you; so finally the lens was off
of the camera. I was not only hand-holding the camera with a fifteen-inch lens;
I was hand-holding the lens by itself, anywhere from a quarter inch to an
inch-and-a-half away from the gate, depending on that part of the surgery I was
shooting, with that much space between the lens and the camera, the camera
in one hand, the lens in the other. Fortunately I was in a dark corner; otherwise
light would have poured in from the side; and so that gave me another mobility;
to focus it by moving my hand ever so slightly forward and back and around I
had a tremendous control of focus. But I was using almost the strength of what
they say a madman has; I was so disturbed by the heart surgery that I had a
strength I couldn’t repeat for you now unless I had some similar urgency; but it
was possible to do it, and the best footage came from that, really, what anyone
would say is a totally impossible photographic situation. And once again I
learned very much about the eyes from this footage, how they move muscu-
larly, what permits our sight muscularly; and that film was called Deus Ex,
most especially because I knew. .. again I quoted Charles Olson in my state-
ments on the film because one thing that went thru my mind very often while
shooting Deus Ex was Charles’ poem on meeting death; you know that poem,
how he confronts the figure of death; a man came around a bush on an island,
and for some reason this was a total image of meeting death, casually; neither
man mentions it: that sense was what pervaded the hospital.
Then they asked what I'd like to do next, and I said... newspapers... or
football; and somehow I couldn’t develop any interest in myself about either of
those subjects. I was still operating under that stupid idea that I was doing the
city by strata. So they were trying to arrange with the newspapers, and the
newspapers were on strike. . . there’s really only one newspaper in Pittsburgh;
there are two, but they are really controlled by the same interests, and they
were both on strike. Then Sally Dixon, who really did most of the arranging for
all this (she’s the head of the film department at Carnegie Museum); she and
Mike together really made all of this possible. Well, they kept trying to arrange
and wondering whether the newspaper would go off strike, and thinking of
football, and so on, and then it turned out that other film-makers were coming
to Pittsburgh after me, and Sally had then begun to offer this same possibility
to other film-makers, and Hollis Frampton came, and shot some footage in
steel mills, and then he told Sally he wanted to do autopsy because he needed
images of autopsy for his long work in progress The Clouds of Magellan; and
when Sally mentioned it here in this kitchen last summer, I said, “Oh gee;
SCRAPBOOKS
yeah, that’s something I really have to do,” but I said, “I’m more interested in
doing, like, the funeral parlor.” As it fell out, what was arranged was the
coroner’s office. And I mean it’s so mysterious how these things fall into place;
I cannot explain it; but obviously now all three of these films go together; they
are a trilogy that go in a direct line toward the last film, and so much so that I
have no idea if there’s anything else I intend to shoot in Pittsburgh, or in cities,
or even in this form. So because of these strange circumstances, it evolved
because the newspapers were on strike still when I arrived in Pittsburgh, but
the coroner’s office had been willing that I could photograph there. And I took
on the coroner’s office. In fact, it bothered me so much that that’s what I wanted
to photograph that I sort of lied about it; I kind of kept saying, well, I’m really
doing this because actually Hollis was supposed to have arrived somewhere in
here, and for reasons of his own, or troubles of his own, he was delayed; so I
said, I’m sort of filling in for Hollis, because he had arranged with the coroner’s
office, and so I would go down and fulfill that arrangement; I mean I invented
outrageous lies to pretend that I was forced into filming at the... well, they
weren't lies, in the sense that whatever internal thing was driving me certainly
made the rest of me feel quite forced into a situation that I would never choose
to enter without a camera. And so, there I was, in the coroner’s office. I began
filming what’s called an external autopsy, that is, where they don’t cut anybody
open. And so that day that’s all I did, and that was hard enough for me to take;
I'd never been that close to a dead human being before. Then the next morning
turned out to be Saturday morning, I mean Sunday morning, and they had told
me, you should come down Sunday morning because there’s so many people
that die on Saturday night. So I was more or less obligated; that’s the way I felt
about it; actually I was driven, for my own desperate reasons, to go down that
Sunday morning, early, and suddenly walk into a room where there are several
murder victims, some suicides, people who died by violent accident; I walked
into this room where the day before I had only photographed a... and every-
where I turned. .. suddenly I was surrounded by... slaughter! And so I just
began photographing desperately. I really overshot because I was so desperate
to keep always the camera going; every moment I stopped photographing I
really felt like I might faint, or burst into tears, or come apart, or something
like that.
Grossinger: Was it like filming Window Water Baby Moving?
Brakhage: Well, withWindow Water Baby Moving also, well, in the first place
I was by strange circumstances forced into it; Jane wanted me to be in attend-
ance to photograph the birth; well, she wanted me to be in attendance first of
all, and that, in those days, was very hard to arrange anywhere. They did not
want husbands watching the birth, for the reason that many husbands faint at
that moment, or they interfere, and they come apart, and they faint and fall
down and crack their head and then sue the hospital; very often, if there’s a bad
EES BRAKHAGE
6
relationship between the man and woman, the woman will, in the midst of
childbirth, curse the husband in a way that she never would otherwise. So, for
these simple reasons, plus the hospital policies throughout the land at that
time, they did not permit husbands to watch births. So Jane’s tack for getting
this permission was suggesting that I photograph it. Well, she went to the
doctor with the idea of photographing it, and again a strange coincidence,
when the doctor learned that I was a photographer, before Jane had even said
anything, he said, “Say, I’ve always wanted a film made of a birth. Do you
think he would be interested in photographing it?” Then we tried to work it out
with the hospital; they wouldn’t permit it, so finally this doctor was intent
enough on having a film made that he agreed to deliver the baby at home.
Well, it sort of looks like. . . in these cases it looks like fate had arranged, or
circumstances external to myself had arranged, but in fact, as one now knows
from my almost desperate attention to birth, and the many birth films ve
made, that I’m obsessed with childbirth. . . perhaps for reasons of something of
my own birth; I don’t know. I’m an adopted child; there might have been some
tragedy, death of the mother, or who knows what; Ill never know what my birth
was like, and that in itself may be the center of the obsession. Anyway, it’s like
the other circumstances in that way. Also, I remember that when they told me
about the police car, that I could go into the police car, I was suddenly
terrified. I didn’t want to. I felt that by opening my big mouth and asking to be
sent to the moon, I was getting my comeuppance. And here I was being forced
into a patrol car, which was scary enough for me. Also, with the hospital. I
remember day after day, as Mike would take me down to that hospital, I would
say things like, “Oh God, let’s go back; I’m going to pack and go home.” I
didn’t want to face that hospital anymore. Again, feeling forced into something
by external machinery that you yourself have set in motion. But, of course, in
all cases the films themselves say that it was desperately necessary, and in the
case of Window Water Baby Moving, then once I started photographing, I knew
for that first birth I could never have stood it in that room, without passing out
or something, if I hadn’t had a camera. I’m not so constituted to be able to take
an experience like that, at least the first time, without camera in hand, which is
the major reason why I have a camera in hand, what my life’s work is. In fact,
there’s very little that’s understandable to me about life, or even bearable,
except the seeing of it. Ihave managed my whole sight by making films.

Grossinger: Let me just cut in to ask how you would relate the possible film of
the moon to the films made in Pittsburgh? Is that part of an imaginable
sequence?
Brakhage: Actually, Jane and I were talking about it this morning because of
Creeley’s letter. He had mentioned this business that here we had set men on
the moon, and the real image we have of the moon in the movies is Melies’.
SCRAPBOOKS
Melies will dominate everyone’s thought of the moon until what the hell...
until we actually send an artist there. Because his desperation to go to the
moon was real enough that he built the moon to go to, and the machinery to
photograph going to it, and the invented rocket ship that goes there, and the
imaginary creatures that are there, and everything. I mean he had that
urgency, and that is, in fact, what art is. And then all the science fiction
movies watered down Melies’ vision of the moon, until finally Neil Armstrong,
as a kid, saw it somewhere in some serial or Saturday afternoon theatre, and
then he got out his camera and made yet another watered-down version when
he was there. So we got that watered-down version, and everyone sat and
watched on the television. I mean Jane was saying, “my mother said of course,
with tears in her eyes, how great it was that man was walking on the moon.” I
said, “yes, yes,” but the truth is that everyone said that, but obviously they
didn’t mean it. . . because NASA didn’t get the money. The whole thing fell flat
as a pancake, whicheven Norman Mailer knows... and so everyone knows it in
fact. Her sense of it was: well, yes, but think of all the problems of sending an
artist to the moon. So we argued about that a little bit; and I mean Jane knows
about the problems of living with an artist, so she knows very well what she’s
talking about when you say, like, you’re going to bottle up an artist with an
astronaut in a capsule and they’re going to move two-and-a-half days away
from the earth and...
Grossinger: In that kind of police car!
Brakhage: Yes. Well, you know, it’s a dangerous situation; I mean of course.
But the point is, I mean, if he has the urgency to get to the moon, I mean he will
certainly behave himself, and I’m the living proof of it, you know. She said:
Well, you might have asthma you know. What if you had asthma? There’s
moondust to affect your sinuses. Or you'll get up there and you won’t want to
come back. All these things are true, but they’re true because the artist,
particularly when he’s working, is really the prime example of human concen-
tration. He would be real there. And, of course, anything that’s real is consid-
ered a problem by NASA, or the United States government, or any govern-
ment, or all these powers that be. But, sure, just as well as any dog or creature
in the forest confronted with a necessity... any creature will hold itself in
check to accomplish that necessity, and so an artist can go to the moon, could
be put in, and would try very hard to do everything he could to accomplish
getting there and getting images of it, and getting back. Otherwise the animal
gets cheated. And they are animals. That’s all they are. I don’t mean that
there’s something else that is getting its. The minute the animal human is
cheated, that’s it. We are animals. And the artist can only work on this level.
This is what the work comes out of. If I was forced into it, if they took me up on
it, it would be the same as going to the hospital, I’d be scared to death, but I'd
do it. It would be a chance to actually give people an image, a new image, and I
ig EEESEBRAKBAGE
don’t mean because of the subject matter, but because, I mean, a man would
be going there, behaving personally, and therefore we would get an image. The
trouble is: artists are the only ones that are forced, while working, to behave
personally. And that’s apropos how I named the third film. I named it The Act
of Seeing with One’s Own Eyes; and the reasons for that name are: that I looked
up “autopsy” and discovered much to my amazement and delight that it comes
from the Greek word “autopsis,” which translates out most specifically as: “the
act of seeing with one’s own eyes.” And that was exactly the reason that I went
through that experience. I had to go through, mind you, the act of seeing,
something different than just seeing, in fact something, I wouldn’t say oppo-
site, but quite other than The Art of Vision. I very consciously took that very
dictionary term because I knew that it would stand as a... again, not a polar
opposite, but an extreme other than The Art of Vision. Gee, it’s hard to say. The
word “act”.... Again, I’m reverting with my slow mind to when I was a little
quicker this morning writing to Creeley. After that conversation on the moon
with Jane I went to the phonograph and I put on Schubert’s 6th Quartet. And it
begins with a beautiful base: mmmmmmmm. It isn’t the deepest base note he
could give us; it isn’t even the fullest; it isn’t a Russian basso’s base, but a base
note beginning that’s for maximum vibrancy. You can tell that he went for
maximum vibrancy. Well, that’s an act. In fact, he gives us that base note, and
then everything that comes after seems like it comes out of that base note; that
base vibrancy seems to have enough vibrancy that it would hatch any other
note. That’s an act. The music there is acting... as if the beginning of itself
were outside you, or outside itself. It was the base, right?...and then that
everything that follows can then fall within. You have already heard something
of it so it can be within you. And this to me is very much the sense of why that
word “act” is important in there. Because actually the beginning is never the
first; it’s impossible, as Creeley had written me, for people to recognize some-
thing that they haven’t already seen. So they have to have seen it, and then
comes that appropriating it which we call recognition. And when any piece of
art pretends, like this is the beginning, and it’s prerecognition, it is of course
an act. And so, therefore, all three of those films are premised on acts.
Whereas The Art of Vision is continually beginning anew, so that it’s very much
more jazzy and very much more acceptable artwise in this century. You can
accept it as a work of art much easier than you can something that’s premised
on document. It was easy for people to pick up on interstices in music, or
mathematic progressions, or melody, like Beethoven, like Mozart, but it was
more difficult to pick up on a man who was basically premised on timbre.

Grossinger: In what way did you come to the perception of the birth-sex-death
relationship in your work, which seems a very accurate take on yourself?
Brakhage: Well, that was just on the phone to you yesterday. I was kind of
SCRAPBOOK,
being flippant, but, like all flippancy, there was a revelation in it. You
remember I wrote years ago, in Metaphors on Vision, my subject matter is
essentially birth, sex, and death, and the search for God. Of course, I’ve been
involved in all three all along. While I was making Window Water Baby
Moving, I was photographing Sirius Remembered, and I was very shortly
thereafter editing The Dead. But these had to do with the ideas of death. That’s
just like The Art of Vision has to do with an idea, much more than these new
films, and that’s why critics can write about the Dog Star Man or The Art of
Vision, because it’s premised on ideas, which are different than acts. Whereas
Songs have received very little critical attention because they are, from Song
I, as Kelly nailed it, an event, and from Songs I become very concerned with
event as something totally distinct from drama. And then when you get to the
word act, which has been so fucked up in our time, particularly in the movies, I
mean that no one can hardly understand what you mean; if you say that they
think you mean you've got...actors?, or you treated these policemen as
though they were actors? Well, in a way, that was true. In fact, when you see
eyes, you will see that the scenes are so photographed that you almost can’t
believe that these aren’t actors. And of course that’s exactly right, because
they’re all actors, like we all are. And they are acting their particular role,
which is a rather formidable role, and they are acting it... out, to the full. And
that’s what interests me. Again, Kelly. I get my cues from Kelly here. He said:
it’s not wrong to act if you really act it out to the full. We’ve been so disturbed
by the word “act,” and acting, particularly in art and film, or on stage for that
matter, that there’s an absolute avoidance of it; and suddenly I embrace the
monster. Yes, these are acts. These people are all acting. In fact, the dead on
the table are frozen in postures of act, action; that’s a nice pun, considering
that they’re dead. But their last postures are there as solid as a photograph;
they’re there so solid in fact that... as part of the autopsy they cut the back of
the head, and they lift the scalp completely over the face, and bend the face
almost in half, in order to cut open the skull, and get the brain out, and in fact
what they’re, interestingly enough, most after is the pineal gland, that gland
that the mystics all say is the door that you push out to get the third eye and so
on; that’s the gland that contains the most information of any part of the body on
most people’s deaths, as to the exact cause of it. The dead are so frozen in that
last posture that they’ve done all this, then they pull...they reach over and
they pull the scalp back into place, unbend the face, and the face flips
absolutely back into that posture it had before they did all this. So that I had
the immediate perception that the first masks made in the world must have
been the actual faces of the dead, by perhaps the victors, or maybe even the
relatives, because this face is so rigid and so rubbery that you can lift it off and
clearly wear it. And what’s that but the supreme and final act; and it’s so
whether the people died in their sleep or died violently, or whatever. A man
no ERBRAKHAGE
shot in the chest with a shotgun blast carried the whole impact of the horror of
that on his face, and it remained there after they had bent the face in half and
then put it back, the beautiful young girl who died in her sleep: they both had
expressions; their eyes are partly open; the face is lifted almost off the eyes as
it’s bent over, and yet when it snaps back into place, the pools, the little jellies
of the eyes fall into the proper holes...in the case of that girl that almost
reduced me to...I mean I almost fainted when I first saw them cutting her
open, and she died from having three drinks, came home, was restless, took a
few pills, and died in her sleep. Well, that’s some of what I have to say about
“act.” Of course, also, one thing I didn’t photograph in the morgue, because it
would have actually distracted from what else I was really concentrating on,
was that the coroner, and the men who helped him perform, and the med
students who perform these autopsies: they act continually. ..humorous
roles... one of them said he always wanted to be Fred Astaire, and he liked to
tap-dance around the corpses, and that would, in fact, be another film, or an
extension of this one. But of course that’s hard to get at too because while they
do that they make these outrageous and very bad jokes. Also, they treat the
bodies with great tenderness, and, in fact, I had the feeling again and again
that many of these poor people probably were more tenderly treated lying on
the table being cut apart than in their lives. They refer to the people by name,
by first name, very familiarly...oh, well, that’s impossible to describe, it’s
site hvanece
Grossinger: You referred earlier to the fact that many of your past supporters,
even those as central as P. Adams and Jonas, have objected to the recent films,
from the police film onwards. Is it, in some ways, as simple as the fact that you
made a film about police that didn’t criticize them in some obvious way?
Brakhage: That may be part of it. They had already decided what type of films
Brakhage made, and they didn’t want to be contradicted by anyone like the
film-maker himself. I mean, they wanted Son of Dog Star Man, Dog Star Man
Returns, Dog Star Man Meets the Wolf Man, and I simply wasn’t doing that
anymore.
Grossinger: Okay, well that’s good. I think that’s enough.
SCRAPBOOK.
MANIFEST
16 August 1974

Let me warn once more and then be silent, dark time coming.
(The so-called “dark ages” simply thus/that folk forgot how to dye and
thereby came clothed dulled shades gray shags of animal black etcetera,
even kings lacking purple —longlivetheking! —till the secret thought was
won again and juice of rock wrung and again the fabric of daily life was as
flowers.)
Let me then warn that those who would/could restrict our perimeters
have drawn lines; and they are these:
that all which is personally perceptible be suspect
(as is immeasurable Color accorded “secondary citizenship” within
the hierarchy Science)
that that which is person-privately shareable, trala!, be cir-
cumscribed -sized -shaped and weighted by/as commune a//, Tra-
dit!
(as it is with Sex past tense now taught future participle)
that The Personae, that greek form whereby innerdividual might
surface in The Pub. true semblence-of-self, be thought as false as
“mask” meaning “screen” to hide or lie behind.
(as The Truth comes to be made to mean the agreed-upon-fact)
that a person, I, be finally unthinkable
(as Art is).
I take it that The Arts afford the last ungoverned public surfacing of
Person and constitute thus the greatest threat to those who feel they could/
should enslave sensibility,
just as I know Sex to be that first/last move person-to-person beyond
governmentality —
truths always, yet!, personally colored beyond measurability. ..
those who rule hate these truths;
this my warning:

Criss-Cross Communications 2, April 1975

CSC‘ BRAKHAGE
oz
that we not be lulled, as was Garcia Lorca whose last words to his
cell-mate were, “Don’t worry —they don’t shoot poets.”
that we not be fooled by governmental Sup. for Artists
(it’s U.S.ence simply this/that:
(1) having made patronage tax deductable, all act of Personal Gen. was
subvert to greed.
(2) having made tax deduct. more and more than difficult Xcept
as inst. to inst. shuffles money—see so-called Tax Reform
Bill ‘69 — Person was jettisoned in the transact altogether...
artists effectively herded into UNIverse Cities or ‘left’
(UNsupported)out,
(3) it managed that ONLY bureaucratic Wash. could pick up the
ww

rest/“right” cards upon the tabled Arts

so that

(4 these sacred first/last acts of inner-dependence

Ne”
would be
played as if ‘twere hobby or per-choice escapist occupation—
useful to keep the increasingly leisured discontents from
making bombs. . . (the funds most natch going thus to educa-
tion, workshops, art fairs, sports-sort competitions and the
like).
Anybody for free-verse circumspect finger-only painting homey-
movie build-it-yrself archycraft sing-along play act?
Artists!, like they say: let’s have at it!—all pretense (pre the tendency)
we can teach ‘em how-to-do-it half-aesthetically...The Muses be made
Amuse(govern)ment! “It’s a living,” say the walking dead. “If you can’t
beat ‘em?””. . Fuck ‘em.
Most hopeful sign: the rea/ young (trapped as I too much am in these
schools for actual Youth) those few of them who rea//y call my attention
(most usually first by the shyness of ‘em) do very deliberately shunt
publight and all complicity as could be tabbed “a movement” (thus
demeaned); and after a good look to and at me, and my contemporaries in
The Arts, they sympathetically declare they'll keep it/art absolutely
private and/or share theirs only as one would love among one’s friends.
Thus I’m coming to believe that as it is in the hopechests and closets of
Russ. & China so it will be here for similarity’s sake—world’s social
norm this 20th Cent.
SCRAUDOGIGREE 2B
THE SEEN
Remarks following a screening of The Text of Light at the San Francisco
Art Institute November 18, 1974.
For Robert Duncan and Jess.

I have believed for many years and come to believe more and more the
older I get that the art is given as a gift through persons’ urgency. And that
the responsibility of the artist is to be personal enough. That this gift, this
that he or she could not arrive at along a train of logical thought can just
come to exist along a line of .. . shaping itself according to the extent ofthe
maker’s experience and no more. That is, that it not pitch over into ego or
that a maker begins to shape him or herself according to cleverness or
whatever. Certainly there is no work that more confirms me in that sense
than The Text of Light. For me it is most clearly of all things a gift given to
me to make. I really have found only two things to say about it that
illuminate what I was involved in; one is almost as a prayer bead or a
constant reassurance I returned to Johannes Scotus Erigena’s “All that is is
light.” Secondly, William Blake’s “To find a world in a grain of sand.”
These two things were very helpful in actually a very practical sense to
help me hold to the promises of this film and fulfill them at least to the best
of the ability that I have. So beyond that I really haven’t anything, any
clarities, and will look forward to some of your questions expanding my
thought about this work. I don’t in any sense think of it as my own and to
an extraordinary sense I never was able to kid myself that it was my own.
Question: How did you make it?
Brakhage: | was trying very hard to make a portrait. lam getting involved
in portraits. I have known a man since high school and he subsequently
became a multimillionaire. So for years we were separated in that way that
millionaires and artists are separated. Finally we overcame that separa-
tion, and as this is an art school I think this is a valuable piece of informa-
tion how we did it. I declared to him that I would never under any
circumstances accept any money from him; and in sucha firm and full way
that he knew I meant it. Then we could be friends. To a man with a great
deal of money, a poor man is a bottomless pit. So from that point on it
became very interesting, the relationship, because his world was totally
distinct fom mine and was quite a mystery. In fact the American business-
man isa real bogyman. So along the line of doing the Pittsburgh trilogy
on police, hospitals, and at the morgue, I was determined to get a portrait
of an American businessman if possible, and that it would be a rare

First issued as a small book by Zephyrus Image, 1976

we ESSBRAKHAGE
opportunity, and that here was someone I had known since high school
and there wasa chance. So I was trying to photograph him in his office and
he, terribly embarrassed, was blowing great clouds of Cuban cigar smoke
and obscuring everything and I was failing. And it was interesting
because I had a macro lens on, which I was using as a kind ofdistance lens.
It has a bellows. And I was failing and the camera slumped forward and
the lens bent sort of with the bellows and it seemed hopeless. But I have the
habit to always look into the lens before moving the camera. So I looked
and saw what seemed to me at first a forest. And I thought, my god, where
is this coming from? And looked more close. And I called my friend
around and he looked and was astonished and then I looked again and it
had changed and a stream was running through it. Then I saw that the lens
was pointed at his ash tray. So I began taking single frames of his ash tray.
And he is so lovely a man he accommodated this. In fact he’s so witty a man
that he invited people to go on with conference meetings on business &
what not & I went right on photographing this ash tray. His office also is
such a location & construction that it has sun all day long. He has windows
all round, from dawn to sunset there is wonderful sun pouring into this
office. So I just began moving from window to window ofthis office, and
Helen, his secretary, got very excited and brought other pieces of glass;
which at first, only not to hurt her feelings, I set kind of around the ash
tray. Then I noticed that if Itouched the very outer-most piece of glass out
here, it very often changed what was in the ash tray. Then someone
brought in the grand...so proudly, brought in a crystal ball. And this I
put in the center of the ash tray. And there was finally a collection of very
fine crystal all around the ash tray, and sometimes a little bit in the ash
tray, and this way and that way and the crystal ball, and all this was in the
sun of course, just shined beautifully and I went on clicking away, most of
the film a frame at a time throughout that summer.
Once I remember somebody came to a business conference and they
walked through the room and he said to Gordon, kind of very, ““What’s he
doing?” And Gordon without a break in stride just said, “He’s photo-
graphing our ash trays.” This began to help him in business because
people became so confused and disturbed at what was this mystery that he
had the business edge on them. So it worked out fine for everybody.
Except I made one error which I must point out. I became so obsessed
with this ash tray that I bent over all summer and ruptured one, possibly
two disks. So that’s why I have this cane. And anyway it was worth it.

Question: 1 saw you one of the last times you were here and you were
showing The Act of Seeing with One’s Own Eyes. And before showing it you
said it was nothing to be afraid of, it was only about light hitting objects
SGeRCCOKM 805
and bouncing back and seeing it with your eyes. And I was interested in
why after using light in such a very exquisite, definitive way you wanted to
use it in a way that was so unarticulated, that was so abstract.
Brakhage: Well, she is telling me in the form of a question that she thinks
my film is unarticulated with respect to light. And I must disagree, that
this film is called The Text of Light because in that ash tray I found a way to
create an equivalent of many behaviors of light that I have observed, that
are not recognized by science, and in fact I suppose would be considered
mad by some of the less generous scientists of our time. But I will name a
few that therefore, that because they are not recognized by science we are
not trained to observe; and not very many people have seen these, though
some have.
I have seen that before a rainstorm there are light-like streaks that come
down through the air that are metaphors of rain though they are not wet.
In fact have held my hand and some of them come through that hand with
no sense of moisture and of course the fact that the streak goes right
through the hand is itself clear that it’s not raining. And then rain will
follow. And because I live in a place where many clouds pass over and
most do not rain, I had a way to check myself. Could I tell within 30
seconds to a minute if it was going to rain or not and invariably I could
because always, if that cloud was going to rain, it was preceded by these
light-like... they would be streaks as if you would see a tiny streak of light
or spark in a dark room only they would be bluish. Though they could be
yellowish also. Those are interchangeable colors anyway, optically. They
could be yellowish.
Then I have seen light-like phosphorescence move horizontally along
the ground, as a wind. And I have seen it pool, as if a pool of phosphores-
cent image. Then I have seen sometimes that streaks shoot up from these
pools or from the very ground. Again light-like and ephemeral like a
phosphorescence in daylight which makes shapes, shapes of plants. And I
have seen this quite a bit in the spring on just dirt and I have seen a
similarity of plant grow up in this place. I have seen—as Kirlian photo-
graphy almost touches on now, and maybe does—I have seen leaves spark
or emit a spark-like emanation at their edges that are offshoots directly of
the veins within that leaf, and therefore as that leaf then grows, do create a
metaphor previous to the actual extension of these veins. These things I
have seen, one, because I have been involved with seeing all my life and
I’m really open to seeing all there is when I’m well. Two, because some-
where along the line I realized something that was constricting my sight in
this pursuit: which was my training in this society in renaissance perspec-
tive —in that form ofseeing we could call ““westward-hoing man’s,” which
is to try to clutch a landscape or the heavens or whatever. That is a form of
EE
206 RAKEIAGE
sight which is aggressive & which seeks to make of any landscape a piece
of real estate. In fact the irony that we have so named property our Real
Estate demonstrates the western limitation. I would like to see science
make a check of the eyes, of the musculature of eastern peoples, let’s say as
distinct from ours. I believe it would be quite distinct. This search for this
form of grasping sight has created a powerful musculature to permit that.
And too as is necessary to permit us to drive on these throughways and to
move with this mobility among these constructions supportive of that
renaissance perspective.
Well, that pursuit is wonderful in itself, and it is of course my native
pursuit, but on the other hand it has the problem that it is exclusive of all
other kinds of seeing. So what I’m trying to get at, in order to see these
things I have to be in an extraordinary relaxed state of seeing. Then all
other kinds of seeing become immediately possible and of great involve-
ment with the light of course. And I believe, not only do I believe with
Johannes Scotus Erigena that “All that is is light,” but I even think that a
wonderful thing has happened in our time and passed almost unnoticed.
That a dialog beginning with him and reaching a public prominence in
the 13th century in the writings of Grosseteste.... Dig that name. The
first man whom they tried to put down with the name Bighead. So he
picked it right up and made them understand that it was so. And then later
Duns Scotus and then of course Francis Bacon who is better known...
who came and tidied up a whole lot of things and therefore is better
known. But this brilliance of these Light Philosophies, English philoso-
phers, who because of their feelings stated in words that: thought was
illumination. 1 mean the last run down of what they did is in the comic
strips when somebody’s supposed to have an idea: they make a lightbulb.
But they felt their thinking was electrical or light-like. Now hundreds of
years have passed and finally an enormous construct of science which
would seem to be antagonistic to such thinking has permitted Niels Bohr
and Riemann and of course Albert Einstein to prove, within that struc-
ture, that matter is still light. Light held in a bind. So what this ash tray
permitted me to do was to photograph equivalence of things seen and
processes of evolution, of ephemerality of light taking shape and finally
taking a very solid seeming shape. Along a line of exactitude. When the
film is seen on this level, it’s even pedantic.

Question: I was wondering if you actually saw the spectrum through the
viewfinder, through the lens?
Brakhage: Yes, | saw very much what you saw on the screen, only it was
better of course. Because in the meantime it has passed through. . . only
what Eastman Kodak film would accept has been taken down, only what
SGRARBOGK@ee ei el

the lab didn’t botch has been left on the strip. Then it similarly has had to
pass through an interneg, and finally come to a print. So if you enjoyed
this, then go look in an ash tray, or something. Because it’s much better.
How it’s been able to pass through me so that it can be called a ‘text’ is that I
have been true to my appreciation & understanding oflight operating in
every day life in these fashions, i.e. preceding matter. I even believe it
precedes animal motion. I have not seen that enough to be sure ofit. But I
believe that there is a form or at least certain kinds of gestures are preceded
by a flash of light-like emanation. I mean this is very exciting to me, in fact
it’s... you see I’ve been reading Johannes Scotus Erigena and his later
‘echo’, Duns Scotus, since Ezra Pound gave them to me at 18 or some-
thing. But it seems we are so trained in this society to read something and
keep that quite separate from the living experience. So I thought it was
wonderful but I didn’t believe it. And then finally I came to see. And now
I have had, through this ash tray, the opportunity to present an equivalent
of it. And if you think about it, this is the most normal film in the world.
Because here I am witha macro lens, which isa piece ofglass here, and one
stuck way out here, or several. And they are never more than an inch or
two away from a crystal ash tray which is surrounded by other glass, so
where does the lens end? That a// could be considered a lens which is
photographing the sun; and that’s all that makes these shapes on the screen.
And that’s very exciting.

Question: My question has to do with what you said earlier. You said it had
to do witha relaxed way of seeing and I was trying to get back to what you
are now saying about seeing the ash tray. In my mind it seems the relaxed
way of seeing comes about through the high excitement way of seeing.
Brakhage: Well I would agree with you because I don’t, by “relaxed,”
mean flaccid. And I avoid the word “meditation” because it has certain
Eastern connotations which in this society are usually misunderstood. So
we need another word. What I’m doing in photographing this ash tray for
instance, I’m sitting for hours to get 30 seconds of film. I’m sitting
watching what’s happening and clicking a frame, and sitting and watch-
ing, and further than that, I had shot several hundred feet and they seemed
dead. They didn’t reflect at all my excitement and emotion and feeling.
They had no anima in them. Except for two or three shots where the lens
which was on a tripod, pressed against the desk, had jerked. Those were
just random, but that gave me the clue. What I began doing was always
holding the camera in hand. For hours. Clicking. Waiting. Seeing what
the sun did to the scene. As I saw what was happening in the frame to these
little particles of light, changing, I would shift the camera very slightly.
If you want to know how slightly you have to realize I was never photo-
208
a
2068 aa BRAKHAGE
eee

graphing in an area bigger than this 4th fingernail. You couldn’t tap the
camera. It had to be moved by a quivering attention of the hand. That took
maybe 13 or 14 moves over a period of ten minutes. Then to get that in
mind: what it was doing and changing and how I was dancing with it had
to be extended in memory; one, how that would come out at 24 frames a
second and two, as to, was the dance real?
And all the time I was doing this I had to have a friendly argument in
my mind with Jordan Belson who I knew would hate just exactly this. He
would say, Oh wonderful what it is, but why is it jerky? Or why not
centered? Or, you know...and to hold myself together I would say, No,
Jordon, it has to be this way. So I, I owe him very much. He sustained me
in that way a beautiful argument can, because it was very much in his
territory. I mean this film is very much on his side of the street.
Though there is another man. I want to mention that the film is dedi-
cated to Jim Davis. I suddenly one night had this overwhelming feel-
ing... I got mad because someone had written an article on many people
working with the so-called abstract film, which term I don’t believe in
anyway. But they had not mentioned Jim Davis, and he has always resisted
being mentioned. It is true, he’s a very shy man. He had lived all his life,
the last 20 years at 44 Wiggins St., in Princeton, N.J., very ill with
diabetes and with a lot of back trouble and in bed the last decade. With his
great construct before him, so that from his bed he could photograph
whenever his constructs created a light pattern that seemed real to him,
refracted light. He was literally the first man who had shown me refracted
light on film. So I called him up and asked him if I could dedicate the film
to him. And I was surprised that he didn’t say no; but I’m so glad I did
because he was dead a week later. Almost totally ignored. So he is someone
to be looked at now that he’s dead.

Question: I just want to follow that up...I think that most people are
part-time film makers. And it’s the moment of high excitement in which
you realize you’ve got something there. As I watched this film for exam-
ple, I have very severe night blindness, as I watched this film I began to
realize how important this night blindness is to me.
Brakhage: Oh yes, wonderful.
Question: I was able to see a lot of things I never associated with that. It’s
the high excitement of the moment of capturing something which is so
critically important to pass on to people. It’s not to analyse in a philosophi-
cal way.
Brakhage: Yes, | appreciate that: only it depends on how you use informa-
tion. I mean, most people misuse philosophy worse than any other disci-
pline in this time. And yet, I am very deficient in reading philosophy.
i“
SCRAPBOOK ssi

Part ofthat, I was pre-prejudiced that this was the dullest area on earth by
a series of very dull teachers. And only a very dear friend, Forrest
Williams, who happens to be here tonight, has maybe saved me; and I
would like to pass on to you, in philosophy you can find the most practical
information in the world. You see, this line, “All that is is light” as
translated by Pound & threads its way through the Cantos — many
thoughts have moved along this line as if it’s a very solid string. So it led
me to the possibilities of this film. Now you say other people in the room
want to make films and what will lead them? I don’t know because that is
truly a personal matter. And that’s what excites me. Because it took me all
these years to realize I could never be anything but personal. So then I had
to ask myself, What did I think I was being those other times? Well... 1
thought I was being a good boy, and behaving myself, as I had been
trained to do, and was continually encouraged for it, in fact threatened by
every institute I’ve passed through. Be it school or job or whatever. And
of course constantly by the overwhelming power of the government that
is... 1] mean...the only contender left in the newspapers for equal space
with the government, however stupid it becomes, is the sports field. And
both of them move inexorably like a Chinese water torture against any
concept of person. Sports move against it by putting the whole emphasis
on teamwork to destroy the concept of play. That is the most vicious of all.
Because little kids get that first. Play is extensive & absolutely individual
until it becomes part of a game and then the game is created to pitch two
masses of people against each other in competition. Then the government
—I mean I don’t need to speak about the government in this year, my god,
bute.

Someone asked me recently, Why have you struggled so hard to see and
ended up so different from your neighbors. ..or something... who do
you think you are? I said quite truly, To save my life! I knew they were
trying to kill me and so when I first knew this I developed asthma at one
year old. Which gave my mother a lot of other things to do. She was trying
to use me because she had adopted me to save the marriage; and I'd failed.
So she had for her efforts a child constantly wheezing. Then I moved to
protect my skin surface—I was very fat, so I was again buffered against all
this use as much as possible. Then I developed sinus trouble which shut
off the nose. Earaches, glasses. Get the picture? By the time I was six... I
escaped sports because I developed a hernia. The problem was that life
wasn’t worth living with all these tactics. So the next thing to do was get it
all together and stop all this disease. In this society I think, for many,
illness has been the only way to get through. And it may be one reason |
have this back problem at this moment. Because the pressure is very heavy
go SBRAKAGE
on me at this time. This may be. And if so, that’s great because then Pll
come to terms with it and find some other way and get rid of that too.
It has been — what I’m trying to say is that is has been a desperate
struggle to keep alive. And to keep alive to me meant that I had to be
personal, which is all that I could be. But then, having said all that, I want
to say also, persons also wish to be social. So then the social inclinations
come out. Like, I can understand that persons want to drive on the right
side of the road or the left side so they don’t run into each other. And I
understand also of course, finally came with great difficulty to beginning
to understand the miracle of loving, another. And that was very hard with
this route that I took. That may have a lot to do with why I am an artist.
And by “artist” I mean someone who makes things under/in trance.
Things which can be looked at over and over again, or experienced again
& again. Will last. Otherwise you can throw out the term ‘art’ and I don’t
care. And I think I came to be able to make that because I had, was so
locked in, that I was exploding with things. With feelings and thoughts
that I wanted to get out. Then the way to get them out was the same as, I
mean... Morton Subotnick visited recently and told me that he thought
the birth of music was the scream. Two things: the scream goes to the
greatest pitch that it can, but one cannot sustain that scream. So then the
tone would drop way down low to provide a bass which can be held
forever. Then a scale is established in between. My sense of it was that it
began with the heartbeat which was overwhelming. That some man,
woman, creature had to beat upon the chest to get it out, and stamp on the
ground and then found a hollow log and then stretched skin over it. And
you could send it for miles. Let’s make love or war or whatever. So it’s
always that real — the need to get something internal exteriorized; and
whatever the exterior is can only be an equivalent. No drum in the world,
not even a stethoscope, will actually make the sound of the heart that you
hear yourself in your own ears...and when it’s pounding. .. it’s pound-
ing and it may fly out of your chest and everyone else is going around and
they don’t Aear it—you see. But if someone screams, people pay attention.
And ifthey give it a form, they’ll pay attention again and again. Then the
miracle is, it’s wonderful, this which otherwise just would be an ego-
centric trick... then people start listening to their own screams and heart-
beats. Then to me, that’s the point.
I fear people getting hung up over art. That is, getting excited about art
and just looking at art. To me, always an expression made out of such
desperation and taking such a form, and leaping beyond what that person
himself could arrive at; that is Wane informed by what you can call the
muses, or god, or the angels or the subconscious, whatever you like. But
sedan in the work process comes through, that I am not capable of
SGRABEGOKMONEESE
thinking along the line of thought. It seems as if it comes from elsewhere;
it does not seem as if it comes from me. But it only comes, strangely and
ironically, when I am being the most personal that I can be. Where I tell a
story that’s more unique to me, a unique story like something happening
to me that nobody ever heard of happening to anybody else. Then I know
more that I am a person. And that’s a very strong string for the uncon-
scious, the angels or muses to play upon.
It’s caused me an awful lot of trouble, and made me very lonely that I
see light behaving in ways that not very many other people see. And the
ash tray, and this force that moves through such an experience gave me a
way to exteriorize that. So I am very grateful.

Question: What about these flashes of light; do you ever see gestures,
flashes oflight, is that in the film itself?
Brakhage: No, it’s not photographable.
Question: Is this in mind?
Brakhage: No, but that is an interesting question. What part of these
visions are feedback fantasy, which is always just a mix, or an Irish stew of
memories actually? So the mind can project out of the memory pot all
kinds of mixes that do not directly reflect a creature you'll see on earth,
istit oy
Question: What I’m talking about, is if you were in this last state you are
talking about, would you be able to see what kind of mood I was in?
Brakhage: Well, if |were relaxed and in my home, and able to relax to that
extent and see, maybe. I do see auras, is that what you mean?
Question: All the time?
Brakhage: Well, no. I have to drive on the freeways and make a living and
so on. And I’m subject also to these ordinary pressures... the world as it
is. Which socially is, in my opinion, awful. I really feel that the human
animal is up against the most intensive drive ever, to stamp out any
sensibility of animal life. And, ah, people being persons. And I do feel it’s
so serious that I think the last public surfacing of persons is through the
arts. And of course now, having been unable to starve out the artists, now
the government is moving to create, ah, institutes to quote help the arts
end quote, and which will, to some extent, do that; but I am very fearful of
what the intent is in the long run. In fact I’m not fearful at all, I know
exactly what the intent is in the long run of this process. So the hope is they
will be stupid—like all other forms of government—and will fail. But the
intent is really. .. there isa greater fear, among those who rule, of the arts,
than there is of any political opposition. Because the opposition can be,
even in a revolution, can be honored. They will behave in all respects like
those in power. If they get in power and succeed, they will certainly
22200
EE _BRARTIAGE

behave like those in power. And history has shown this again and again, &
how anyone can have any hope in a revolution after reading any history at
all, I don’t know. Hope springs eternal, but, I mean, really... . On the
other hand, the extent to which people within a culture primarily recog-
nize themselves as persons, is not controllable. That cannot be massed,
except under real emergency. That is, except when there really is an attack
on that culture which requires everyone to be massed.
Unfortunately, it is not that there are twelve dirty old men in Washing-
ton trying to destroy us all; it is that there is in most people, through a
cultural inheritance, an automatic wish to be governed and to govern
others. And the government. ..and so that’s the problem. That this is a
long-going thing that people tend to seem to feel that they need. The
government is just the most...they’re the last ones to know anything
about anything anyway. But they are the symbol. They are the anchor
down ofthis proclivity. And the arts, artists in this century seem to make
the only stance against this. They do this not because they are wiser or
braver or anything, but simply because no one has ever figured out how to
make a thing that will last without being desperately personal during the
making & throughout. So you just couldn’t... it’s inconceivable to me
that it could be done any other way—though governments will try to have
things done that they will try to sell as art. . which are done in exactly the
opposite way. So that’s the struggle. And you could either regard it as very
sad that you live in this time or as very interesting. I do one or the other
depending on whether I think I’m going to make it or not....

Question: About personal desperation... you were saying you have to get it
out. In your earliest stuff it seems like that was reflective of your repres-
sion, the things that were supressed in you. .. why you had those different
illnesses or whatever. Now I was wondering. . . it doesn’t seem like you’re
trying to say personally through yourself, maybe... or mass repressive-
Mess ae:
Brakhage: No, I’m not. I don’t understand mass actually, finally. I think
that is just a meaningless word...though I’m confronted by it, mean-
ingless or not. Most of the words we read in the newspapers are mean-
ingless in that context and we are confronted by them, and they can
actually cause things which will kill you. So whether they have any
meaning any more or not, or especially that they don’t, one still has to deal
with them.

Question: No, what I mean is, you said, right, you thought your parents
were going to kill you—or now you’re concerned that the government or
the mass will kill you.
SCRAREOOK@ ee —“‘“‘“‘“ ‘CCC

Brakhage: No, Pm not concerned with the government killing me. I’m
concerned with me killing myself. Because of this proclivity to govern.
And therefore being tricked out, or responsive to, anyone else’s desire to
govern, of which the primary symbol might be a Texas cop some dark
night. Or some name in the newspapers. I mean I don’t sit and worry
about... 1 don’t have nightmares of Gerald Ford trying to kill me...
Really, I mean it’s wonderful to live. And what worries me the most is
that so much of the time I don’t want to live, and so then I try to figure out
why. Why not? Or for instance one of the prominent forms is that I go to
the movies about twice a week. Now why? That’s just an escape. And what
could be more ridiculous when life is so short anyway to spend a lot of time
and money and effort escaping. Then of course I get clues, like when I’m
ona lecture tour and have to go to the faculty cocktail and it goes on and on
and on. Then I stumble back to my motel in Poughkeepsie late at night
and I’m desperate for the Tonite Show.
Then I know why I go to the escape movies also. Or why. . . see I set out
on almost every trip with about three books. One is usually a poetry book;
the second will be history or maybe some book in that area, an instructive
book; and the third, a detective novel. Two days into the trip I. . Imean,
after Pve got through being X-rayed and all the cattle herding of the
airplane port, I’m already through with the poetry and I’m into the
history. And by the time I’ve had a day on the road, I’m down to the
detective novel. But I don’t accept that.

Question:Is there any personal reason why you're not signing your films
now?
Brakhage: You see when I first signed films it was because I was making
the personal statement really, that is, my signature. That was so long ago,
you have to understand, and to scratch a signature on film had some very
powerful meaning at that time that really distinguished it from the Hol-
lywood film or any other kind of film. So I’ve done that for years, but now
as of the last couple of years, and certainly this year, I had arrived ata place
where I felt that that had become ego-centric. For one thing my name
unfortunately is not as much, is not... I don’t... I’m not enabled to have
as personal a sense of my name as I did, because I’ve seen it too often in
print. And people have used it as a symbol in a way that has nothing to do
with person too much. And that’s robbed me of that signature to some
extent. Two, which is perhaps more important, should be in the first
place, I came to sense that, as of the last several years, Pve become more &
more convinced that I don’t make them. So it began to seem ego-centric to
sign them. I felt I had the right to copyright them. It’s interesting that this
came up at the same point that I decided to copyright. I won’t do that for
214 BRAKHAGE

very many years, but I wanted to leave something to the children. And
that’s the only way I could do it. Everything else is in public domain. And
I don’t want to leave them a fortune, but a little edge. So for a few years I
will copyright films. Now the interesting thing is it doesn’t bother me at
all, which surprised me, that it says copyright 1974 by Stan Brakhage.
Oddly I seem to have that right now because I’m not so stupid as to think I
have the right to sign them.
Now that’s all quite special, but there’s a lot of thought and tortured
feeling and feeling all the line of it for me. That’s how I’ve arrived at that.
I’ve bracketed the film in copyright, which I don’t actually have to do, but
I did it because I really want to put titles at the end of the film, which is
another insistence which finally broke old habits. That I feel the words
come gentler & interfere with vision less, if they occur at the end of the
film, even though the people maybe know the title of the film they’re going
to see. So then I thought—that made me unhappy because then I thought
oh shit, once again there’s nothing for the projectionist to focus on. So
therefore I just left the copyright at the beginning of it as a bracket and the
real stuff occurs in the middle.

Question: It seems that your films might be short flashes oflight, flashes of
mind, inspiration, almost a separate personal eye seeing all these things on
the ground, and then how do you structure something like that that seems
to almost inherently tend toa short film, how do you structure a long film?
Brakhage: Well, l exhausted everything I know. That’s again as to why it’s
called The Text of Light. There are certain number of extensions of light
taking place that I have seen. So I exhaust all those I have seen, within a
construction that gives mea sense of the whole world. And in fact to me on
one level the film really can be seen very much as if exploring an alien
planet which is very similar to the one we live on in many respects. Once I
had exhausted . . . the ash tray had metaphored for me and I had exhausted
all that I had seen elsewhere, then I stopped shooting. And ordered that
like a text, you could almost say an alphabet from the simple to the more
complex, from the horizontal to the vertical, from meshes of light just
come clumping, making triangles of mountain-like shapes through to
finally what appears to me as a whole forest of trees. And that’s one level of
the film. Again, it was to structure it in a whole world sense and so there’s
also, there’s a four season structure to it which cycles again and again.
There’s day and night. There’s all that I know and all that’s most familiar
to me. Then too, that I was very moved by the symphonic form. I’ve
always believed film is most close to music of all the other arts. It came
quite naturally into four movements.
SCRAPBOOKS
Question: You answered it in a sense in what you just mentioned about the
symphonic form and I was wondering whether at the start or somewhere
involved in the middle of the film you have any connections to music or
sounds per se because you bring up the scream, etc... & whether the
editing or the pace at which the chops either increase in rapidity or
decrease, give you any kind of musical sense of sound forms.
Brakhage: In terms of the second part of your question, they don’t increase
or decrease just like that. There are increases or decreases but I can’t say
that’s true as an overall form. But yes I’m very much involved in music, I
listen to music and I mean not just as a background, but I sit or lie down
and listen to it when I’m home, two-three hours a day. It may be sheerly
coincidental because I don’t see any direct ties, but I was very involved in
Shubert’s Ninth Symphony while working on this film.

Question: Have you ever associated sounds with color per se?
Brakhage: Yes, there is a melodic line constantly going through all the
work as ofthe last decade. And I do think of shifting changes and tones, in
most films a very cordial melodic development; and I’m very concerned
with that. That’s how I feel film & music are the closest —they share tone.
And they’re also that close in that they’re primarily dependent upon
rhythm and tempo. And they’re continuity arts and so on. But tone I take
as seriously in film reaching toward music as Messiaen does in music
reaching toward color.

Question: Why didn’t you use music to add to the contemplation in this
film?
Brakhage: Well because it would distract and be redundant and cut back
seeing. All sound that does occur in sync, or intentional relationship with
music, does diminish sight. So I’ve always thought ofit—that you have to
pay a price when you use a sound. And there are very few people that
estimate that rightly. One of the greatest, the greatest in my opinion, 1s
Peter Kubelka, who really knows how difficult it is to make a sound film.
You cannot take for granted that you just have a picture and a sound to
go with it. Not at all. And I never felt a need for sound. Though I’m not
against sound, as my praise of Kubelka and James (Broughton) ought to
make clear. And Kenneth Anger, all three of whom work with sound in
absolutely magical and incredible ways. But for myself I have moved
along the line ofthe silent film which has a very special discipline; and I do
that because of my own necessities to see certain particularities that tend to
get blurred if accompanied by sound. Or, I have found no way to keep
from damaging by any relationship to sound. On the other hand, I have
216 BRAKHAGE

just finished a 20 minute sound/sync film, the first sync film I ever made.
And I’m very excited about it.

Question: | know that your 8mm works, your Songs, were edited in the
camera, and later you were very concerned with the energy you received
frome
Brakhage: Well, no, some were, most weren’t. It’s always an ideal to edit
in the camera, for obvious reasons...I think. The more obvious reasons
are to me that there is an energy in the moment of shooting which editing
again can leak out for you. What’s interesting to me is the energy of
immediacy. That comes out of my involvement with Charles Olson. The
actual breath and physiology ofthe living person being present at its most,
uninterrupted by afterthought. Editing is always afterthought. Though
the way to beat that is to get shat excited at the editing table. And that’s very
hard.
But in the case of this film it is very highly edited. And I prefer the
word “arranged.” And again I think we need a better word. “Arranged” is
gentler & reminds me of the composer. “Compose” would be another
word. We're talking about a composition in time. To make a construct
that will fill completely the length oftime it runs. I trust more myself what
happens in the immediacy of shooting rather than in this afterthought
process.
SCRAPBOOK OO ——“(—isss—“‘“‘;é_ ON

TO LAICA JOURNAL
26 January 1977
Dear David,

Thanks for thinking of me. Truth is, ’'d very much like to contribute,
but Pve just no time whatsoever with which to do it—other than this note,
which you’re welcome to pass on as you like.
People are just too damn tired (not from work, but from meaningless
work) to tolerate more from film than the easy assurances of escapist
traditions. These require a seasoning (each season) of novelty (as do
novels)—much as badly prepared and undernourishing food requires a
variety of spices. There is a clear relation between violence in movies and
sugar: the cookie witch still thrives despite Hansel and Gretel —tho’
they've now become teenagers and disrobe occasionally: the scene,(and
what is seen) remains the same. I suppose the witch climbed out of the
oven while H. and G. were playing with each other, having found this
nude game happily distracting. Excessive joy to ‘em, I say; and I too like
to watch ‘em shove the witch in the oven again and again, and watch ‘em
stroke each other (while she climbs out).
My early work was sufficiently infected by this syndrome that advertis-
ing agencies, and the Hollywood movie-makers, were enabled to powder
their product with shards of my discoveries—the interruptive flash-
frame, of previous or forthcoming scenes, is an obvious example among
many. Of late, however, my work (and that of most of my contempo-
raries) has evolved to something more like an integral (or thoroughly
balanced) “meal”; therefore, all but visual “health nuts” tend to pass us
by. We offer slim pickings for sugar addicts. We offer too MUCH to
intrigue the Peeping Toms.
I personally am pleased that the DIFFERENCE between a potential
work-of-art in film and an escapist move is now perfectly clear —at least
clear to ME: separation of Church and Art, at last!

LAICA Journal 14, April-May 1977

Ale
26
POETRY AND FILM
Brakhage: The arts, always, when I went through school—and I only went as
far as one incompleted semester at college —the arts were always considered
secondary. And the arts are an older discipline than any of these upstarts like
science, and cooking; yet cooking is an art in terms of its condition as being an
old discipline. So today we are gathered about poetry and film. And I want to
say some simple things which are always hard to teach because I have to dig
thru a lot of pitchblend to get to the radium.
I think that one of the greatest lessons I ever had in poetry was one night I
was invited over to Kenneth Rexroth’s house in the early 1950s in San Fran-
cisco. Rexroth was one of the two centers of poetic activity in San Francisco at
that time. He would send out calls to those who came to his house, and those
who would be interested gathered informally in his living room. On this
particular night a man from India began to read Tagore in Bengali. Now I have
read a lot of translated Tagore, and I never liked it very much; but now out
came these extraordinarily beautiful sounds. First of all I was learning that
poetry was not translatable. Second, because this was such a great experience
beyond anything I had ever had before, or usually sense in poetry, I realized
how important it was to approach poetry first thru its sounds. And then I
learned, later, that was a way for some people to approach film first, just
through its vision. People who had found difficulties with films of mine and
other contemporaries because of their subject matter, like they say, or the lack
of it, as some thought, or their dislocation of things in subject matter, could
suddenly recognize a beauty, just in the tailoring of the light. They saw that
this was more than decoration —or something like a light show — but that it was
a very articulate rhythm, that is, it carried the motion. One could feel some-
thing about just the qualities of the lights. So the trick for seeing that was to
throw the film absolutely out of focus. This film I am going to show you most of
you have not seen in any other form. Then you will have a chance to test the
theory. After you have seen it out of focus, I will show it to you in focus.
(Shows film)
Once I threw a film by Sergei Eisenstein, /van the Terrible, completely out of
focus, and didn’t tell people what it was, but I asked them to state their
emotional feelings about certain passages. I did passage by passage. There
was quite an accuracy: 80-90% agreed what was a sad passage or an excited
one, and even thematic senses of battle between good and evil, black and
white. Certainly very simple things, to be sure, but they at least were in
agreement that this film out of focus and with no subtitles to read and no sound

Recorded at the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, March 22, 1977. Credences 5-6, 1978
SCR ARBO OK
SCRAPBOOK

track to hear caused accurate, what would have been regarded as accurate
emotional responses.
So I know there are people, for instance, that if you think of all the trouble
people have with the meaning they take Ezra Pound—for example or Allen
Ginsberg —to have, then they are just put off from hearing the music; whereas
what they hear in a foreign language doesn’t prejudice them against the song.
They may indeed later decide that the things that have shaped the poet’s life
bother them in one way or another, but they aren’t predisposed against the
song. As I understand it that’s terribly important, because what we have in the
arts is that you may listen to your worst enemy’s song.
Now I’m trying to talk about things that are all the same between poetry and
film. That it, it is a meeting ground, as I see it. How many of you have seen
Leni Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will? Well, she in my view is a great film
artist who, to be sure, made films that Hitler admired, about Hitler that he
admired very much, notably Triumph of the Will. Jewish organizations, with
all their justification, gather and picket the showing of her works. I think that’s
a mistake, actually; I think it would be far smarter if the Jewish organizations
arranged wide distribution of those films for the following reason: because she
was an artist, she left us a portrait of that whole time. I wish that the terrifying
images which Leni Riefenstahl managed in Triumph of the Will of Hitler—
which is really about the Nurenberg rally—I wish that that was available for
people to see because, as an art, it is not persuasive. The interesting thing
about Triumph of the Will is that Hitler thought it was marvelous as a portrait of
him, and, at the same time, the British Propaganda Ministry used that film to
scare Britain into arming. That was the last straw: they didn’t change one word,
they didn’t misrepresent one thing, they took the whole thing just as Hitler
liked it and Leni Riefenstahl made it and scared the western world half to
death with it. Because it was an art, it changed the capacity for people to see
something. And I have no doubt that most of the people most of the time will
decide against that, so the wide distribution of Leni Riefenstahl’s work would
be a benefit in the world; whereas when people don’t decide, everything that
Hitler was gets distorted by public education. Gradually the menace he
represents—and to me a terrible menace —falls into a kind of hero worship,
the kind that Napolean would get, who was the same kind of bastard.
So there are grounds that film and poetry and other arts in various ways
share. But film and poetry relate rather closely for this reason: poetry is
dependent upon a language that is in the air. All poets inherit at scratch a
language —I mean they inherit it the first time they start scratching their ears
with sound and start to make sense out of it, that is, as babies. And they inherit
not only their language, but the possibility of language, which is a concept
2200. RA
which is really incredible. It enables them, for one thing, to go on to learn other
languages. There’s something very solidly there that’s not there as an art
tradition, but’s there as an everyday tradition. Then poets are forever sur-
rounded by other people using this language and using it all the time in a great
variety of ways, which shapes each poet’s sense of that language. And then—
and here’s the miracle—they override that constant mundane chit-chat of
people that’s not actually much different than monkeys. Just chit-chatting and
passing clichés, comfort and admonition, back and forth. The five messages of
people which aren’t much different from what Hollis Frampton defined as the
five bird songs. Birds, he says, have about five things to say. As Hollis has it
with the birds they say “good morning,” “I found a worm,” “fuck me,” “get
out,” “good night.” Now a great deal could be done with that, which is the
ordinary business of the world and a great variety of song can be made of that
for those that really listen to the little varieties of generalized bird songs; and
therein to the little varieties, if you really get ears that keen, to listen to
particular birds of the species. In their own language all those varieties which I
love too, all those words, aside from those Ijust spoke, that fill up the Oxford
English Dictionary, plus all the words that have been hatched since then. So
look at the OED and think about what actually has to be said, and see the
wonderful variety of possibilities within, particularly, our language, for shades
of meaning, or for music. To me, all the rest is noise. That gets quite personal.
What’s regarded by others as noise your own true love makes as music. Then
there is music that overrides just that personal, which is to say, that a noise
that some poet makes becomes music to several who care so much about it they
will risk their lives to save it for anybody who wants it.
For example, the great moment of this to me in history is when some monks
unwrapping paupers’ coffins found shards of Greek poetry. For pauper graves
they didn’t use wood, they took old manuscripts, old books and pulped them,
and made little paper coffins for the poor. Some of those were unearthed, and
among the papers were found shards of Greek poetry and it was determined
from some of the saved poems that these were shards of Sappho, and others.
These monks with great excitement sent this news to the Pope. Meanwhile they
were slowly pulling apart these coffins to get more and more little shards of
poetry. It took a long time, thank God, for news to get around in those days, so
by the time the Pope got the message and had determined on it and sent back
his determination, these monks were very involved in this poetry and were
loving it, loving it enough to keep at this tedious task of slowly unravelling it
from a mass of decay. The Pope announced that this was pagan poetry and was
to be destroyed. We have to assume for most of the monks that that was the
word of God. But they so loved the poetry by that time that they disregarded it,
which meant not only that they were willing to die for it, but risk their immortal
SOR AUBOOK@MEMEEE 0
souls to save the poetry. That’s how we have the better part of Sappho that we
still have. It doesn’t take very many people to save something, but it takes an
incredible passion.
Well, I think it starts with a rhythm, it starts with a recognizable rhythm, a
rhythm that moves past all the clichés of language. Someone learns to so order
these mundane words of chit-chat that they make a rhythm of them which is
compelling. One good way to get a sense of what poetry is at its greatest is to get
some records of poetry in other languages that you do not understand and listen
to the music of them. I don’t mean to stop there, I don’t mean that poetry is
without meaning. That would be sound and fury signifying nothing. But I
mean, put the horse before the cart, start with the compelling rhythm that
someone lifts from all the chit-chat which is a buzz, a noise or an annoyance to
most of us, unless we get our message for the day —do this do that —or hello or
I love you, or pass the cereal. Get past that and see that someone was com-
pelled to lift those chunks into a meaningful rhythm. That’s what I hope to
achieve by showing the film totally out of focus. Now I would like to show you
the film in focus and then maybe we can talk about means and meaning.
(Shows film Two:Creeley/McClure)
gp EEBRAKHAGE
Brakhage: Let me ask if any of you have questions.
Question: Do you have any idea of poetry when you work on films?
Brakhage: Yes, though differently in all cases. I had definitely in mind to get a
portrait of Robert Creeley when we visited him in Placitas, N.M., in 1962.
With Michael we were leaving San Francisco and I had never taken any images
of him. I had, oh, maybe 50 feet in the camera. And I said let me get some
pictures of you, and instantly I took the first little bit ]suddenly knew that I
wanted more than just some pictures of him. That whole section on Michael
McClure has no editing—I knew suddenly I had to do something and it took all
morning. He very graciously sat down and I got out the image of him with the
lion make-up on Ghost Tantras—with the hair all over his face—and
interspersed images of that with images of him sitting there in the chair, and he
meantime was doing certain things as he sat and I was waiting and we were also
talking, about Milton, as I recall. Even though that started just to get some
pictures of him, very instantly as I started photographing it turned into a
portrait. In the case of the film Hymn to Her I was just shooting some film, in
that case of Jane, as I do around the house, and it fell later into this portraiture.
Question: Do you concentrate in the camera or on the printing?
Brakhage: Both, whatever is necessary. Preferably in the camera because it’s
cheaper. It also has a higher energy level usually. It’s less interferred with—it
just has the vibrancy of immediacy that’s hard, very much harder to get later,
editing or printing.
Question: Was that film Two:Creeley/McClure .. .
Brakhage: That was definitely solarized, that is, by having a negative made,
and then an A and B roll, and solarizing.
Question: How did you get the shimmering effect on the tree in the film The
Wold Shadow you showed last night?
Brakhage: Single framing.
Question: It looked like colors running up the tree at one point.
Brakhage: Well, that’s painting on glass. The pane of glass sits on an easel
between me and the scene. I take a frame and alter what I’m seeing by painting
on that glass and taking another frame, etc.
But these things don’t happen that way. I don’t say, oh, today I'll go and take
a piece of glass into the woods and see what hanky-panky I can produce. But
quite the reverse. I had an experience at that spot in the woods which did never
recur, though I waited for months. A large anthropomorphic shadow appeared
over me in the trees; and if I’d been a sensible, so-called primitive person I
would have fallen to my knees or run like hell. First, when I saw it, I said,
that’s interesting how that shadow is made by the light. It gradually dawned on
me as I tried to figure out what was throwing that shadow that there wasn’t
anything, that the light was not so positioned in any way that I could account
SCRAPBOOK 223

for that shadow, which then seemed very awesome and frightening. I just stood
with my mouth open in amazement. Then the shadow faded back into the trees.
I presumed that I had seen the god of the forest, or of that place. I went back
every day to worship, but that god wasn’t up for religion, because he never
came again. I did the next best thing to either falling on my knees or running
like hell. I went back to that place with the idea in mind to paint the shadow as
[had seen it, but better—as I started making the film—I let that go and made
an homage to that place, an homage to that god or goddess, not just out of some
kindliness of my heart but so I could sleep easily at night that I had done my bit
in the great dance with mystery. And fortunately instead of doing that stupid
thing I thought I was going to do, paint the god that no longer reappeared, |
made a full exposition of everything of that place that I felt, and I reflected as I
sat there painting all those things that Eastman Kodak’s film does not usually
accommodate. I can’t put a camera inside my head to photograph my own optic
system as it is seeing, so I have to paint. As I went on painting all day —the day
passed slowly —to take a frame and then paint and then take another frame 24
times to make a second of film is a full day’s hard labor to get 100 feet thru the
camera. And then as I went on painting, all such places came rich in my mind,
all such places as the history of painting has brought them to us. The word
“wold” is there because if you look in the OED, it is a wood. Originally it was a
wood and then it came to mean a flat place, and then again a wood. Along
hundreds of years of the English language, and directly because of the acts of
the poets, the word got shifted to mean these alternative things. We now have
“wold” as the source of the word wood. But so all these dreams tumbled thru
my head, of language and painting and feeling about that place. The fact is that
on one level the film is a whole history of landscape painting right up to an
homage to someone like Clyfford Still, who is really a landscape painter. And
that’s how I make films; and that’s a very normal process, as far as the arts are
concerned.
Question: Your comments on why you use the painting in that film relate to the
comments you made last night, and that made me wonder if you ever inves-
tigated Kirlian photography.
Brakhage: Yes, Kirlian photography has been very helpful to me because I
have seen many of those things, just with my eyes, for years, and when I spoke
of them was called quite mad. Many of the reasons I paint on film is to get an
approximation of some of the things that are now photographable thru the
Kirlian process. So Kirlian photography came along and established that my
seeing was not mad. But note the despair of the times in which we live.
Because a machine can see it, it’s now considered sane. Now I can speak of it
as halos that surround plants and fingers and heads, and if people look skepti-
cal I can say I’m into Kirlian photography.
m4 BRAIKHAGE
I’m also very grateful for reading some other human’s equivalent to some-
thing I’m seeing. Much that Wilhelm Reich has seen I had seen before I read
him. And in ways sufficiently the same and also different; his writing was a
comfort at one point, because it was the only feedback I had. It was a comfort
that another human being had also seen some of the things. This is entirely
aside from what the orgone box might be. I don’t know anything about that. I
tend not to be interested in it. But what he wrote about having seen, much of it I
have seen in various ways.
We’re now talking about means, but not about meaning. Let me tell you this
story. When I was going through school I was always carrying a poetry book —I
was very interested in poetry and still am—and so I got a bad reputation as a
kid carrying books when he didn’t have to. When I had my sixteenth birthday
party, a bunch of my friends as a joke got together—well first of all they were
going to buy me a birthday present—and what else but a book. While they
were downtown looking for a present, they found something that would be a
hilarious joke. They found a book that was so absurd and ridiculous and
impossible that even I would be defeated at trying to read it. They were
doubling over with laughter at the thought of giving me this book that would
truly defeat me. And sure enough came this book all wrapped in tissue paper,
and I was delighted because I loved books and they were sensible enough to
give me a book; and I opened the paper and there was a very strange book
indeed. First of all it seemed to be in English, but at least a third of it was in
other languages; and it made references to the gods. Just to get thru some of the
courses at school I can remember writing on my arm in indelible ink, Mercury,
Zeus, Jupiter and having little definitions of what all these were. It annoyed me
to have references to a whole pack of gods from elsewhere; the final incredible
thing was that this gift book was filled with Chinese. This of course was Ezra
Pound’s Cantos, which is, if Imust choose one book, the single most important
book in my life. Indeed I couldn’t read it and they had their good laugh. I could
only put together three words in a row and then stumble over a lot I couldn’t
understand and then three more words that I could understand. But right off
the bat, because I was too desperate not to be defeated in the teeth of my
friends who were getting too much of a laugh out of this, I started the book and
it starts “And then went down to the ship.” Right there (writes on board) I
noticed something: “And.” To start off a book like this with “and!” I am very
concemed with the beginning and endings of books —“and” —that was thril-
ling. And immediately it moved all the emotions this way (writes on
board—)—so powerful. I remember it brought tears to my eyes, which no
doubt increased the laughter of my friends. And the next word which hit me
was “down,” “and then went down.” “Set forth” was there too. And within
those lines you also get “up.” In those first two lines the mind splits, the mind
SCHAEBO
O OK N
moving, going in two directions and very powerfully and very reinforced. That
kind of thing is where the relationship between my sense of poetry and what
film can do begins, and that is like the first level set of meaning: direction! The
poem has the capacity beyond just its rhythm to make reference to the process
of thinking itself. If you set that in a model —that’s forward and back. Poetry is
having to do with the actual process of thought, as absolutely distinct from
what I don’t regard as poetry at all, the writer telling you his mind, or some-
thing of that sort. It certainly seems like Ezra Pound is primarily involved with
telling his mind; you know, he’s telling what he thinks is good and what he
thinks is bad, but I hear his song, and I heard it even when I was utterly baffled
by a book that obviously had been given to me as a joke. It wasn’t just my
stubbornness, and I had certainly encountered other books that were tough
and tougher to read than that; but after comprehending something of them I
threw them out. Here was one that the more I understood the more yield came
to me. So here became the great book for going over and over and over. Now I
would say that I can read six to ten, in some places twenty words in a row,
which isn’t very much still, but it’s good progress in a life time’s worth of
reading. [’m working on it. P've got some of the major slogans that were to
sustain me all of my life, prayers, like “All that is is light.” That is enough to
return me to that kind of person Pound is who would know how important it is to
say and give Erigena a translation—“All that is is light.” It’s so powerful in
that context. That’s something of what I mean by meaning. And [M TOUGH
ABOUT IT.
I'd like to talk about direction as circle, as in

That’s the way Gertrude Stein originally wrote in a child’s book called The
World Is Round. It’s first written this way because Rose, the little heroine,
carves it ina tree. I think it arose that simply in Gertrude’s life, because very
shortly she was using it on her stationery. But suddently Gertrude had the
sense that she had been given a great gift. First of all it’s a wonderful center-
piece of arguments for her great teacher, William James, about the nature of
being and nothingness before it got obfuscated into that, in my opinion, by the
existentialists. It looks like a silly thing—ok, we got it—a rose is a rose is a
rose. It means it is only and ever a rose. That’s something to brood on, and we
could say that’s kind of a silly poem. After it sprang from her subconscious
mind into this child’s book, she must have come to realize the incredible puns
RAR
26 ae
that move through it. There is a reference that she was aware of those, though
she wouldn’t be as academic as I am to lay it all out here. Someone was once
attacking the poem in Chicago, and she said ‘all I have to say is that the rose
has not bloomed so sweetly in English poetry in 200 years.’ Which meant that
she had come to recognize what that whole tradition of English poetry is; so
poetry always has a tradition, a whole lattice of meaning. So the rose, if having
looked at the whole history of English poetry as a history, is used in three basic
symbol places: birth, sex, death. (AROSE) Here we have a nice pun for birth,
for something coming up; here we have his Eros, sex; and with a slight slur, we
can get sorrows; with another slight slur we can get the connective, the thing
that relates symbolically, arrows. What springs magically if you start feeling it
with the tongue, as distinct from just taking it along with the clichés of
everyday language, birth, sex, death is represented back thru the Greek, and
perhaps earlier, by the three sisters. The three sisters are in there. She
glorified that sense of the forest by laying it out in a line, not always putting it in
a circle. So it’s a meditation piece as a poem which has to do certainly with the
whole history of English toying with these particular words, and these qualities
of meaning. There are other kinds of spring-off from it, like for an English
garden, that is planted in rows. But some of this begins to stretch; but those
stretches are important too. To read a poem to its outer limits, or a single line,
to take the stretches and know they are stretches of meaning but let the
stretches go until they snap at you.
Speaking of the sense of meaning that is sometimes in the air around, in the
film that you’ve seen, Two: Creeley/McClure, the rhythmic song of being out of
focus, as if it were in another language, and then seen again straight thru, and
having talked a great deal about the means of how such things are made, Id
like to emphasize that just like Gertrude stumbled into means so I stumbled
into those means or am forced to them. I didn’t certainly go out of my way to do
A and B rolls, because it’s just hell. So, I’m driven to it.
Well, then you say this film is a portrait; what does it have to do with Robert
Creeley or Michael McClure? Michael McClure when he reads his poetry, he
often reads especially softly the capitalized letters. Now he may have changed
his act these days, but in the past that was a shock to people because Michael
uses a lot of capitalized whole lines. Everyone expects when you see
capitalized, that means headlines, that means WAR IS DECLARED! No—he
reads them softer than the rest. He reads slowly, and he moves slowly. But his
section in the film is the flashy one with a lot of single framing and quick
movements, and there is quite a variety of rhythms in there. Unless you're
really up to looking at rhythms fast right off, it just looks like all flickering and
burning, whereas Michael tends to move very stately. But I saw him as a man
containing an electricity that is just terrifying. It can be deceptive. Everyone
SGRACECOK@MEEIEEEE
207 S
says he is so in control, but really he has to be, because he is so nervous. He is
such a bag of nerves that if he lets himself go he might just go up in smoke. And
this manifests itself to the careful looker thru the slightest of ticks or ripples
along his skin or in his voice. To the slightest shift of means and meaning. And
it is all there in his poetry.
Also you come to who’s doing the viewing. Marvell’s view of a coy mistress is
not going to satisfy a women’s libber of then or now. So when someone writes a
poem about someone, the primary thing one is learning about is the poet and
what he or she thinks, and the rhythm of the self it carries. And the other thing
becomes the lumen. Well, people call me subjective because | insist that I am
I. There is this argument against my work which says that the film is all me, it’s
enclosed but it doesn’t communicate, doesn’t have anything to do with social
values, other people can’t understand it, and so on. And I make my case as the
following. If they are right, if a documentary indeed has to be made as if I have
in mind an audience of six-year-old adults being spoonfed the right idea—if
that’s documentary, or represents the truth, or any kind of a full circle, well
then the newspapers do best represent truth, because that’s their bright idea.
How many of you have had any kind of newspaper write about you? Did you
think the article represented truth? It’s the most available source of such
undercurrent parlance that we have. A color-blind reporter at an art show
would obviously do better than an editor writing the story in the office, particu-
larly if he knew his credentials. He could say, this is what I saw. This is the
first level of truth; but the other is, if it goes into the lattice which the arts
represent, if it’s in relationship to a history or a tradition, then we have the
possibility that the tradition can be learned sufficiently to read that thing, be it
in paint or along the line of notes in the air or poetry or film—to have a world
that passed thru one another human-being that’s up there spinning, so to
speak. That’s obviously a world as when Michelangelo saw people beginning to
worship the Pieta, what did he do? —a beautiful artist’s thing kicking in the
teeth of the whole Renaissance as he did so—he carved across the breast band
of the Virgin: “made by Michelangelo.” It was more outrageous than a factory
worker writing “made in Tokyo” across his work.
The anecdote comes from Charles Olson—‘“There is no such many as
mass.” Which is an incontrovertable truth, or a simpler way to get it is to go out
on the street and ask people “are you the average man or woman,” and some
will say yes, because they’ve been taught to do so, and then ask them how
they’ve come to think they are. Poets know this, film makers know this, and it
isn’t a case of my using the “I” egocentrically, as so much as Robert Duncan,
another poet, puts it: “I” must never arise in the poem except as the communal
“I,” That’s where we come to means and meaning. I know Two: Creeley/
McClure is a film and I wish to make a world which is built out of what has
CCCCCOSBRAKHAGE
me
passed thru my experience of those two fine men. And to approach each of
them with all that I have of my experience of each of them. In both cases it
happened to involve much more time spent reading their poetry than sitting
around talking with them. I know it’s me reading poetry —it isn’t a great books
compendium survey of how people read Michael McClure or Robert Creeley,
it’s my reading of them that’s informed my life. Who else can I speak for. And
that shapes the rhythm of which these films are compounded; along with, and
in a dance with each of them, which in many ways is contradictory, the poetry
rhythms actually on the page, unless you look closer. In Michael’s case it
would appear to be very stately and very composed. But right under the skin
surface ripple constantly impulses that are visible if you choose to look for
them, however hard he builds his muscles at Vic Tanney’s gym and holds
himself in, firm. All the firmness, as of my being a film maker as distinct from a
poet, has to do with centered weakness. He must be strong, he must be
composed, he must be almost statuesque at times to contain this fire that moves
thru him. He expressed it in one statement he gave me in the 60’s —as we used
to call to each other in desparation across the yawning void—“Be a solid
moving thru an Inferno.” That has to do with the flickering side of him. In
relationship to Creeley—those who know Creeley—well, he’s a man who
didn’t come to full sentences until he was 11 or 12 years old, and he stumbles
into speech with great hesitancy and enormous power and fantastic delicacy.
He’s New Englandish; shy, he’s incredibly shy. Bob seems like one of those
people born old—an old soul you could say. And I saw him that way. Also he
commands a kind of attention where the eyes can become saturated, so
engaged and reaching out to help him to come to speech that you get a reverse
action. I’m sure all of you are aware if you watch a light bulb that actually at
some point, if you’re relaxed, that light bulb can be impressing the optic nerve
so much that it turns black. Closing the eyes will leave a blue light bulb,
usually, drifting off into the void, which is a reversal color of yellow. In the will
to give out, it has to be relaxed, at least in my experience; a person can shift
from positive to negative. That is, the values can reverse, the eyes are
saturated and go to the opposite. So I’m always in that sense after equivalents
of things I’ve seen. My experience isn’t exactly like it appears on film, but it’s
an equivalent. And this reversal of light-value vision happens very often to me
when I’m with Robert Creeley. So it seems necessary in the film to seem true to
my experience of him.

Question: What you've said about the film has already helped my appreciation
of it. Have you ever done program notes, or does that go against your purpose?
Brakhage: | think there are ways to talk about all the arts. I’m here talking but,
finally, the world is really attacking its contemporary arts with language,
SCRAPBOOK i“ ——“‘“‘CO™CSC‘étO!

largely. I think one of the signs of the greatness of Dante’s Divine Comedy is
that it has survived hundreds and hundreds of years of footnotes. All that
attack against the essential ingredient, which is a celebration of mystery! That
doesn’t mean a lack of mystery. Celebration of mystery allows the maker to
acknowledge, by the way he or she has done something, that he or she knows
something. But this knowledge also acknowledges mysteries. And the work
reverberates. And the mysteries open up further knowing. Now, Robert Frost
is a perfect example of someone who just writes a mystery. He writes poems
which do celebrate mystery and in the second stage, when you see that he
understands something of the mystery, it still can reverberate a little further.
But for me it didn’t reverberate any further than that. So he is a kind of a
nostalgia. I deeply appreciate what he gave me. He’s a simple-minded poet,
which is OK. It isn’t that he lacks intellect. A real simple-minded poet is
Christopher Smart, but “My Cat Jeffrey” keeps yielding more and more as I
read it across the years as distinct from “The Road Not Taken.” At some point
the road not taken is completely taken. There are nursery rhymes that have
lasted better. That’s what I’ve called a weak impulse, but there are people one
outgrows, or moves away from. It would be nice to think there will be a senile
old age when Robert Frost will be just the thing. That is not a put-down. It will
be an enormous relief to think that when I get older and get simple-minded I
and Frost and nursery rhymes can survive all the same. But in the meantime
Ezra Pound is the sustaining one, the one I still can’t understand. But at every
stage of gained knowledge The Cantos reveal more and more to me. They may
be rummaged for further understanding he is opening up to me: the Chinese
dictionary, which I have now been studying for several years, The Egyptian
Book of the Dead. Pound probably wouldn’t have approved of the Egyptian
Book of the Dead, but that Dover edition with the way to study the ideograms
came along, and I’ve been studying it. Pound goads me on because at each turn
in the reading of him I come to new mysteries which he has set significantly
within learned reach.

Question: Again, your appreciation of Pound has come from reading the poems
again and again, as well as the materials around the poems. For us to
appreciate films more, have you ever thought of writing program notes?
Brakhage: I’ve written several books. Metaphors on Vision which is considered
the most difficult book on film to read. I also consider it as such. I think it’s
worthily difficult, but I wish it could have been simpler, like The Brakhage
Lectures. One of the nicest books I wrote is The Moving Picture Giving and
Taking Book, or Seen. l've written a lot and I make a living talking about films,
and I’m also aware and would warn you, that the only value in this lecturing to
make a living decently, is that we see how works withstand this honest verbal
230 BRAKHAGE

outpouring. We see that despite all this talk they still stand there, withstand
the investigation. I don’t really trust doctors, certainly not surgeons. | think
the great thing about going to the hospital and having surgery is to survive it.
To survive this probing, the operation called education, is really my sense of
it. Then I see the colleges as a vast salmon run with most students flopping on
the rocks at the side and some few despite the downpour making it up stream to
spawn. I think it is a more severe survival testing grounds than the US
Marines.
What would be the point to all these lectures. Finally I hope to take a silly
little poem like “A Rose is a rose is a rose” and ask that question in Grand
Forks, North Dakota and in New York City, where almost anyone’s heard it,
and chuckled over it and then dismissed it. But at least for whatever it’s worth,
it’s one poem that’s in the language and known by more people probably than
any other poem in the world. And there is a lesson in that. If you start breaking
it down, you see that that little tiny bit contains, from my view point, an infinite
amount of meditative possibilities. It keeps being alive and rolling around and
round in my head and yielding more and more. All of which is to say that film
does not have a chance equal to a poem in our time, because there is no way I
can pass out to those of you who are interested Two: Creeley/McClure to take it
home and run it to death or into a lifetime’s viewing. I’ve written a lot, I’ve
spoken a lot, I’ve tried to make talk into as much integrity as possible.
SCRAPBOOK 23!

TO HENRY HILLS
13 January 1978 away in the vault until one of us was
Dear Henry Hills, dead...(preferably, had that been the
case, him). The work could never have
I want to thank you for one of the best been made if he hadn’t accepted these
reviews I’ve yet read. You presented terms; and happily he does very much
your opinions just exactly as that— like it. Another point of fact: it was
opinions— leaving the reader free to find absolutely NOT made with T.V. in
out for him or her self; and yet you did mind; and there are not, nor ever have
give enough personal orientation (re: been, any hopes of it being shown on
jazz, Coltrane, Mark Twain, earlier television. Its length, and those ‘blanks’
films of mine, “THE TRANCE you think were designed for “commer-
FILM,” etc.) that we know where cials,” is/are integral parts of the form.
you're coming from, have lines of per- It is important to me that those mis-
spective on yourself. It is clearly a apprehensions of yours be corrected
human being writing (a rare clarity); because I think they may have biased
and you do treat me most humanly. I, of your viewing, will certainly bias the
course, don’t always agree with you, but viewing of some people, and DO
I ALWAYS respect your opinion and suggest that I work under commis-
even wonder if perhaps you might be sion...something I’ve been at great
(might prove in the long run to be) cor- pains to discourage other artists from
rect. Which of any of us KNOWS the doing. ..and something I’ve suffered a
signification of new creative work?: only great deal to avoid doing myself: (for
a fool would claim absolute surety... instance, during the making of “The
certainly not the maker. I think and very Gov.,” at a time I very much needed
much feel that ‘The Governor” IS one of money, I turned down a commission to
the greatest works ever given to me to make a film on the President of
do; and it more than fulfills (so far) Mexico). All this is NOT to suggest
every expectation I had of it while work- your opinion of “The Governor” is
ing on it: but only Time will tell, like wrong. It is the most generally dis-liked
they say. ... One clarity from me which film I’ve made since “Anticipation ofthe
you do deserve: “The Gov.” was NOT Night”; and that also is NOT to suggest
commissioned. In fact, it was emphat- your opinion is wrong. We'll both have
ically stated to Governor Lamm that to wait and see...if we live so long.
there could be NO interference with my Another fact Id like to correct: I do con-
making. The deal, as is my usual in cases tinue photographing Jane. Much ofthis
of portraiture or similarity of Doc., footage will, if as usual, come to some-
WAS that I would pay for the film thing in the future—most not (tho’ I
myself (so there be no strings attached) shouldn’t really try to out-guess that, as
and that I would complete it the same as I’ve been unable in the past to ever know
any other film of my making AND that what will finally turn up in a completed
then he would be allowed to decide film): BUT it should at least be noted
whether or not it could be released. No that the face ofthe sleeping woman in the
changes were permitted him, nor were first of “Short Films: 1976” is that of
requested. If he hadn’t accepted ALL of Jane, AND it is her childhood photos
the film as is, then I would have stuck it which start “Short Films: 1975,” her

Cinemanews 77 (7)
232 BRAKHAGE

vagina which touches off the ‘trip’ in the review...this letter in homage of the
second film of that series...other parts worthiness of your review rather than
of her anatomy weaving throughout that any criticism of it.
series, AND her face and figure which I don’t know if you are one of the
dominate much ofthe super 8mm films. editors of Cinemanews, but I did want to
I hasten to correct this assumption of comment that I found this issue of it
yours that “since ‘Hymn to Her’ unusually interesting: the interview
Brakhage has apparently ceased to with/of Hollis Frampton was excel-
exploit her image” because it seems simi- lent... Hollis is at his best, which is (in
lar to that assumption YOU so carefully my opinion) the VERY best.
contradicted in your review—1.e. that
I’m “over the hill” or somesuch... put P.S. Jane says I’m too “picky” about
in perspective by your witty “he didn’t “a fuck scene” and Jimmy’s daughter
die as expected.” Every couple years AND that you deserve MORE praise—
some reviewer suggests that I don’t it being the very BEST review we’ve
photograph Jane enough; and about once seen in some time. And I think she’s
a year a number of our friends call to right, as usual. A film must survive its
make sure we haven’t separated or suggestions—i.e. if the suggestion is
divorced, prompted by some recurring fucking, then the film’s particularities
rumor. I can only guess at what prompts OUGHT counter-balance that for some
these rumors, this particularity of gos- full measure of meaning which contains
sip; but I am naturally quick to correct place for tangential interpretation or
it. I commiserate with Jane’s fans wish- counteracts them altogether; and I don’t
ing more image of her, and I bow to think that film successfully does that...
their (and her) criticism of her image in and the little girl DOES pun on woman
the films; but it is precisely bbCAUSE I (a shade of that scene I’d not thought of
do NOT “exploit her image” that The before). Okay, so, and PRAISE
Muse (or the subconscious, if you like) PRAISE PRAISE!
has the last vis-a-vis. in the matter. A
couple other points, just ‘for the record’:
it is not “a fuck scene,” nor ever visibly
such, which puzzled you (perhaps thus?) 1 February 1978
in “Short Films: 1975,” but rather
Dear Henry Hills,
something more resistant to naming...
but which, had it been named, might I looked at “Porter Springs: 2” last
have been called “Dalliance” —tho’ I night (I was unable to view “3” because
hadn’t wished to be so Elizabethan as it started slipping in the gate— probably
that either; AND it is “Doc Holliday’s/ not broken-in sufficiently yet for the
Jimmy Ryan Morris’s daughter who careful tolerances of my RCA... very
appears in that scene with him... Pagan easy on film but commensurately
Morris her name. Had you seen her as a finicky; and I didn’t want to risk damag-
little girl it might have made the scene ing it, so am returning it unseen), and I
less (or possibly more) “‘incomprehensi- keep thinking of conversations recently
ble” for you: and I DO realize how dif- with Donald Sutherland (the REAL
ficult it IS to comprehend all these par- D.S., not the actor) wherein he
ticularities of detail in one, or even sev- suggested that The Arts are still too
eral, viewings of these films—and do much enthralled by “the small true
thank and praise you for the extent to
which you HAVE been accurate in your Cinemanews 78 (2)
SCRAPBOOK 233

fact.” Donald says the earliest example made. It pains me to turn you down
he can find of that interest, stated as because it is such a reasonable request
such, is in Stendahl (sp?), and at that you've made. I don’t know the solution
time it was thought of as something to be except perhaps that semeone apply for a
occasionally introduced into literature grant to buy prints of my work so that
‘to anchor’ the ordinary cosmic consider- they'd be available for people to study in
ations of The Arts. Thence we come the way you propose—i.e. non-
finally to William Carlos Williams’ “red theatrical private screenings... very
wheel barrow” upon which “it” (the personal screenings (which certainly
poem?) “depends.” Donald’s point is mean the most to me: Ijust can’t afford
WHAT depends upon the wheel barrow? to support it). We make very little profit
His rhetorical question haunts me. off ALL the rentals of all these films. If
EVERYTHING depends on it, that’s Jane and I were to be paid the minimum
Williams’ echoing answer in my head; wage for checking all these prints, mail-
BUT...everything CAN be very close ing ‘em, etc. plus their cost, our whole
to NOTHING. I keep thinking that “distribution business” would probably
perhaps it is a specifically modern drive be “in the red.” Thus, each showing of
to find that ONE stable spot in the uni- each print MUST contribute financially
verse that is SOLID wherefrom (with to maintaining the very availability of
lever, or even fulcrum of language, those films. Another possible way out of
music, paint, carved stone, photo or this sadness: why not get your local
film), and thus whereWITH we might libraries, or S.F. library, to purchase
MOVE that “universe.” I don’t think the films you and your friends want to
“Porter Springs 2” is that spot. Its study? Enough concentrated demand
facts/phots seem too much a collection should accomplish that. Most libraries
simply along a line of ‘liking’— buy film trash—book trash too—by the
likenesses, then...along a line of your cartload. Who, of late, has tried to shift
pleasure; and tho I very much like the that stupidity?
cut from house to cow, and even the cut There was a time when I had a stand-
from feet to barn, and sense clear end as ing offer to look at ANYone’s film sent
cow ambles down the hill, I do NOT me and to write whatever I honestly
know why much of the rest of the film could in return to them. It was my desire
need be between these cuts at all... to help all unknown film-makers in
except, again, as it is your pleasure—a whatever way I could—to give them at
pleasure in the small true facts of your least a few words they might use to get
experience of this place? There is, yes, a their works up into the light of public
quality of terror that moves thru this projector or somesuch. I was finally
work; and that interested me the most deluged with films and found myself
(tho’ it didn’t seem dependent upon the unable even to check my own prints
length, or dotage upon certain images, because ofthe mass ofother’s works to be
you’ve given it—a half dozen shots of looked upon, let alone proceed with
those kids, ditto house, ditto barns with making new films myself. Thus, I took
those intervening cuts mentioned and back the offer. Now, it is okay that you
the end SHOULD, or could, have done sent these films without asking me BUT
it... 1 think; but then I’m often wrong.) I am in some terror (considering your
So many people ask to see the films, in position) that your mailing may be fol-
the sense you have, that if we obliged lowed by those of your friends or others
there’d soon be no prints left to rent and in general. So, for that reason ONLY
no money wherewith more could be (and my inability to any longer cope
234 BRAKHAGE

with that) I ask you to make CLEAR I correct those few mis-impressions I felt
DO NOT accept films mailed to me you had: subsequent to writing you I
without my specifically asking for ‘em realized that the longest portrait of Jane
anymore. I usually just have them occurs midst those Super 8mm films:
turned back at the post office so I don’t Rembrandt, Etc., And, Jane.) 1am now
have to pay return postage (for that had also trying to stop public speaking.
become a very heavy expense every week That’ll be very difficult, as it is the only
also). I am severely overloaded with means I have for making anything like a
work that must be done before I can even steady living; but it is exhausting my
begin to think of CREATIVE work. I health and creative potential. I feel that
am still the only patron of my creative it was essential I speak OUT an alterna-
activity, the only patron also of the pres- tive aesthetic and absolutely BATTER
ervation of my films. I must wear all away at it until ’'d stamped upon the
these silly money-making hats in order public scene SOME space for a more
to continue making films at all...in traditionally normal acceptance of film
order, also, to preserve what has been as an art...more “normal” than those
made (an increasingly nightmarish cost attitudes toward film I’d confronted
as the years roll on, roll heavily over the younger—such as Film-as-a-trick-of-
delicacy of films). And I did NOT, by Dada, Film-as-an-( Underground)-tan-
the way, take “lightly” your “lack of gent-of-revolutionary-unrest, Film-as-
interest in the early work”... but, Vox-Populi, Film-as-Psychoanalytical-
rather, did appreciate the interest you substitute, Film-as-everybody’s- play-
were enabled to take. I presume anyway pen, Film- as- illustration- to- Rock,
that part ofthat “problem” (as I see it) IS etc...including (of late) Film-as-
the lack of availability of film for study: (Structural)-Teaching-aid, or Film-as-
which puts this dragon’s tail in the stepping-stone-to-Video, or even Film-
mouth ofthe last paragraph. as-propaganda-tool-for-Woman’s Lib.
In Metaphors on Vision I wrote: “I’m I feel that there are now enough tapes,
thru writing thru writing.” That finally and transcripts of tapes AND written
begins to be true. Except for letters, I books, for me to “rest my case” and get
just don’t write anymore (haven’t for back more steadily and continually to my
about 6 years), thus don’t have anything work... at least I hope this is so, and that
to contribute to “Cinemanews” other I can find some other way to support
than these letters which you are very myself.
welcome to publish. (I especially wish
you would publish at least the previous Good luck to you; and thanks again,
letter, or those parts of it sufficient to for your interest.
DE K
SCRAPBOORA Ee
ED OOK@ e 235
88S

AN OPEN LETTER
10 July 1980
Pve said often to Diana Barrie, Gary Doberman, Jim Otis, Willie Varela,
and others whose work I’ve loved of late, that I will most probably do
more social harm by championing their films than I would by writing or
speaking against them. Every younger filmmaker I’ve publicly praised as
“discovery” in the last decade I’ve heard characterized as “disciple of
mine” or “imitator” or somesuch (except those whose reputation was well
established before I came to their work: Ernie Gehr, Andrew Noren, for
example). My opinion has been regarded as self-serving egotism. Some
have, more gently, suggested that I’m “blind” to those who are perceived
as “following in my path.” How it is possible for a living American
independent filmmaker NOT to share kinship with me? By DELIBER-
ATELY not! And this would be the council of the arbitrary arbiters of
taste of our Time. Film Academism splits two ways (BOTH ignorant of
the mid-ground where most work oflasting value is being accomplished):
(1) structural aesthetics nuf said) and (2) the thoughts of those who credit
ONLY the-techne-new...and then too those who seek the NEWS-new
whereby we get American Academized Dada.
I’ve long maintained that current public critical standards are creating
an American Samizdat. The most creative younger artists ve known, in
ALL the arts, are tending to such privacy as will void publication or
public presentation altogether. As Gary Doberman put it to me once:
“The public scene is so disgusting I don’t want to be associated with it at
all.”” When I asked Diana Barrie if I couldn’t write something on her
films The Annunciation and Sarah’s Room for distribution or program
notes, she said (speaking of her sense of her contemporaries): “No, we've
taken a good look at you and your generation—and the public hassle you’re
having—and want to find some way to keep out of that altogether.” (Edith
Kramer finally asked me for statements on her work, which is how I came
to write what I did.) Day before yesterday I found myself (almost surrep-
titiously) slipping Jim Otis a note in homage of his accomplishments, but
warning him he’d already have trouble with my “shadow” just because
he’s from Boulder, Colorado. He acknowledged his awareness of “the
problem.” Barrie Archer, from Leavenworth, Kansas, doesn’t have such
a problem because he doesn’t even make prints (gives his originals away —
the one I have can only be seen at my house) and thus escapes this
syndrome. I’ve felt more able to praise his work without political
worry...or to praise Dean Stockwell’s films because he, with his OWN

Downtown Review, Winter 1980

236 RA
reputation as a movie star overshadowing his films, has never felt free to
make any public presentation of them.
What IS this? WHAT circumstance has so stifled the natural human
relationship of known artists to sponsor the work of younger or unknown
artists, the traditional means of recognition, etc. It is, if I hear these
recalcitrant friends correctly, fear of art politics and/or their fear of
specious and ABSTRACT usage. One would shun being aesthetically
associated with me beCAUSE that could only, ever, be some partial
recognition—if true at all. Yet the LIBRARIAN tendency these days IS to
catalogue art works by these partial recognitions—i.e. , along a line of past
tendencies— thereby obfuscating the glorious uniqueness of any given
work, the absolute difference each maker makes. Then there’s structural
aesthetics, where the JOB of investigating film-as-film molds itself after
scientific enquiry, social studies, etc., regardless of individuality...
(nuff).
I think that in this century the three greatest traditional possibilities for
the English language, from James Joyce, Gertrude Stein and Ezra
Pound, have been stifled by just such superficial attitudes as those which
crimp film appreciation these days. Writers attempting to work the large
“fields” of consideration created by their main mentors were immediately
characterized as Joycian, Steinian, Poundian and summarily dismissed.
In the meantime, those still working over the largely dead linguistics of
the 19th century novel were praised to the skies for every simplistic trick
whereby they could keep “this old hoss” kicking a while longer; and
further, the study of dead linguistics itself, the structure of dead language,
has elicited snobbish critical and institutional approval to the expense of
ANY, even, personae of person. Do we have here a mini-example of
feudal court- and church-fostered continuance of dead Latin across cen-
turies during which the populace (not understanding the language at all)
didn’t have to think about what it was hearing in the slightest?. . what a
heaven for the sophisticated, and what a haven-hole for those who wish to
BE enslaved by overlordliness— well, things aren’t that bad, YET. All
the same, we must recognize that the language discoveries of the early part
of this century seem, now, islands— proudly defended, from any possibly
influential “poaching,” by exactly the same kind of aesthetician who
rejected Joyce, Stein, Pound in the first place. Even as obviously unique a
poet as Charles Olson is continuously tabbed “Poundian.” Only Robert
Creeley and Robert Duncan have dared mine Stein with regularity
(though Duncan felt the need to characterize his first investigations as
“Stein-like imitations”). Is there any living writer other than Marguerite
Young who seeks to “extend the realm” of the Joyce novel? Beckett?...
ANYthing (even nothing) but.
SGRARBOOK@ENN
Just as it 1scompetitive writers who mostly point the accusative finger
and shout “imitator” at their literary fellows, so too is it usually filmmak-
ers who gossip-forth judgement at each other... filmmakers and, occa-
sionally, media center programmers (and the like) on the lookout for the
obviously new or the OBVIOUSLY old. Professional film critics have
almost ceased to exist, except as reporters of event. Like their literary
counterpart, they will do their “librarian” damage classifying-by-
“school” or announcing “movements” but rarely take time to note any
extensive similarities-in-depth and/or the passage of a tradition from one
filmmaker to another. (I wish to distinguish Ken Kelman’s article “Por-
trait of the Young Man as Artist: From the Notebook of Robert Beavers,”
Film Culture, 1979, asa remarkable exception to the above.)
When I was young, the then director of the MOMA film department,
Richard Griffith, said my films were “imitative of Maya Deren.” I had, at
the time, only seen Meshes of the Afternoon ...once; but he was picking up
on the tilt-wall sequence (a conscious “steal”) and dismissing not only Jn
Between BUT Desistfilm (made before any knowledge of Deren), The Way
to Shadow Garden, and even Interim ...and me... because that slight use
of Deren’s effect gave him the excuse to do so. At the same time Ian Hugo,
closer to the mark, saw The Way to Shadow Garden as “in the tradition of
Jean Cocteau,” and prized the continuance of that tradition. He, how-
ever, put too much emphasis upon the use of motion picture negative and
thus overlooked the more direct influence of Kenneth Anger’s Fireworks
on Desistfilm. My first film, /nterim, was most directly inspired by Coc-
teau, specifically his Orpheus . . . (usually only Rossellini’s influence on it is
detected).
To my surprise, NObody ever questioned my most conscious and
continuous “theft” — the use of sun’s rays, or other back-light beams,
directed into camera lens, such illumination shattering rhythmically and
reflecting psychological mood, refraction creating symbolic shape...
source?: Kurosawa’s Rashomon. (The two, very opposite, film masters
most carefully furthering the “psych-symbol” aspect of this tradition are
John Luther and Francis Ford Copolla: it is no accident that in the wake of
Apocalypse Now Coppola seeks to help the old Kurosawa to make another
film... it isan unusual blessing of recognition.)
My most brazen whole “takes” of others’ films passed without notice:
Sidney Peterson’s Mr. Frenhofer and the Minotaur/Reflections on Black
(this oversight despite the fact that I’ve credited him as my “teacher”
clearly; and it is interesting to note that I didn’t use the anamorphic lens
he’d passed on to me until making Dog Star Man, far removed from his
aesthetics albeit benefitting much from his wisdom); Ian Hugo’s Jazz of
Lights/ Anticipation of the Night (also many more generalized influences
CCC
3g BRAKHAGE
and a number of specific tricks of multiple superimposition “filched”
from his Melodic Inversion for Dog Star Man, Scenes From Under Child-
hood, and even Duplicity in-the-making; the whole developing world view
of Jim Davis/The Text of Light (this influence ignored even though the
work was dedicated to Jim, in memoriam). And so it has been that while
people have latches, meanly or favorably, upon effects as memorable
characteristics in my films they have often missed the traditional basis I
was actually building upon. (I think Annette Michelson was the first,
20-some years later, to fully recognize my debt to Serge Eisenstein, for
example.) What is all this “likeness” fuss anyway, some aesthetician
equivalent to Simon-says?
Yesterday I took another look at the three film prints I own by Gary
Doberman, Fisheries, The Rhyme and The Moieties, and satisfied myself
that, yes, the last several years his work has been THE most persistent
influence on my films—almost all of the Super-8mm-to-16mm “blow-
up” films: Thot Fal’n, Burial Path, Purity and After (especially After and
@ most particularly)...though not so much influence, interestingly
enough, on either film in which Gary partially appears: Centre and the
16mm Nightmare Series (which, coupled with my delay in using Peter-
son’s trick lens, suggests a need of the maker to “cover tracks” of source, a
psychological hesitancy no doubt caused by the public attitudes I’m ques-
tioning in this essay... for, surely, shyness always operates as hindrance
in the creative process, calls down the deadly lance of The Muse upon the
maker, as Cocteau has vividly pictured in The Testament of Orpheus).
Gary Doberman and I, from the first, shared some obvious aesthetic
affinities; and as I WAS first, he could be said to be “inheritor” of some of
the “grounds” of these affinities filmwise; but wouldn’t that be placing
undue emphasis upon what he and I share “‘in the dark” of the movies to
the expense ofour light-lives in general? Perhaps not—I’m remembering
Jean Cocteau’s description of his first visit to The Theatre and how his
creative life began then, as he found usual: art answering art, not life. And
yet “Ars longa, vita breva:” the sources of aesthetic affinity stretch back
centuries and mostly infuse us by the oblique means of everyday living.
Dante gathers what he needs for The Divine Comedy from his poet friends
(some of whom he places in hell, for thanks) and takes as his guide the
Latin poet Virgil (perhaps less influential upon his language than others
not mentioned). . . (what influences am I, right now, concealing?— Greg-
ory Markopoulos, whose work I attacked for years!...or possibly
Michael Snow?)
What CAN be said is that Gary and I have inspired each other. What
MUST be said (as how else would this society know it?—his films being
unavailable) is that his work has directly influenced not only the “shaky”
SCRAPBOOK
(camera hand-held) “grounds” of rhythmic vision in those films of mine
already mentioned, but also Creation and my work-in-progress, Made
Manifest. Fisheries and The Rhyme have affected my whole “slippery”
relationship with The Sea. I’ve cared for (and always been very scared by)
Ocean-as-subject. My vision of it in (1) Song 8, (2) eyes, and (3)
Rembrandt, Etc., And, Jane, for instance, has (1) twisted and turned to
seek its subjectivity UNDER Hokusai wave, and (2) taken it as extreme
metaphorical object, and (3) cut it to “ribbons”/rhythms of visual music
so beautiful as to remove that (note, unNAMED) section from the rest of
the film’s context.
Doberman’s Fisheries and The Rhyme, albeit taking some few tricks
from me, HAVE managed Sea-sight in the service of his beloved Ellen
(always center of his work) but of such a balance as to avoid any subser-
vient Ocean, as metaphor or other. The Ocean becomes OCCASION
(especially in The Rhyme where it is, after all, only the visual “echo” ofthe
rhythm structure at the beginning... which itself is, anyway, an oblique
metaphor of seascape)— occasion, then, as are the fishermen, the boat, OF
Ellen’s being there. . . the whole film, after all, a rhyme of Fisheries. Ellen
is only slightly pictured in these films, but each film turns within the
fulcrum of colors, shapes, and rhythms ofthose pictured moments. (Some
of his films, such as The Moieties, seem to picture Ellen constantly; but a
length-count of imagery will show her picture to be more pervasive — by
such tactics of color/shape/rhythm carry-over — than constant.) Gary
Doberman has made it possible for me to subjectify The Sea (in Creation
and, now, Made Manifest) without subverting surface, symbolizing
depth, or diminishing it as object moving. I am eternally grateful —Sea
being my first intended instrument-of-suicide when I was 17... that tem-
poral diminishment and psychological haunt finally put to rest. . . infinite
possibilities opening up.
I recently had the chance to re-see Gustave Machaty’s 1933 film Ecstasy
which created an international scandal and some enduring popularity
because of some brief nude scenes of the beautiful Hedy Kieslerova (later
Hedy Lamarr). I have, since my first view of the film in my teens,
thought it very much more interesting AS A FILM than its antique
sexploited reputation would lead one to believe, and I have wondered why
Machaty wasn’t better known (I haven’t been able to see ANother film by
him or heard him discussed in over 20 years). The film opens on one ofthe
favorite themes of bawdy balladry: an aged man carries his young bride
over the theshold of their rooms, she glowing white with bridal veils, he
darkened by his formality and tottering under her light weight. The first
15 minutes of the film their relationship is explored thru vignettes of
lights and darks — her silhouette profile emerging into hard bars of
BRAK
mo AGE
backlighting, his polished shoes gleaming fitfully in a corner ofthe frame,
etc. These often almost abstract scenes wherein the viewer’s eye is entirely
dependent upon slight rhythmic shifts, subtle framings, and shaped sym-
bols of narrative emotion, are predecessors in the development of some of
my work and, even more clearly, of that whole “field” of Gary Dober-
man’s envisionment of male/female tension wherein he presents similar
scenes in the service of his love— almost as if to transform the neurotic
opposite of Machaty. Gary has never mentioned Ecstasy. He might well
have seen it during his school days at Berkeley or even as part of his L.A.
youth; but does it really matter? An impulse of sexual nuance arises thru
human shadow play variously: what is exciting, at least to me, are the
light-sparks trembling music-like themes of related longing midst and
against black.
I’ve written this essay because I cannot live ALONE with the irony that
the few times Gary Doberman can be persuaded to show Fisheries, The
Rhyme, or The Moieties, he’s likely to have them related to Creation, Made
Manifest or my Super-8 ““blow-ups” as imitations of Brakhage. Even were
his work well known and often shown, he’d still suffer the same fate:
(who, for instance, has tabbed me for the interruptive black leader effects
of 23rd Psalm Branch filched from Bruce Conner’s A Movie and Cosmic
Ray?: Ken Kelman, in the article mentioned above, is clear about what
passed on “from Brakhage to Conner no matter how disparate their mate-
rials and themes may be,” but he’s not been clear about what passed BACK
midst closeness of materials and themes: and “ex-pupil Bruce Conner”
very wrongly characterizes our relationship).
The Greeks didn’t see these “flatteries” between artist friends as a
problem—but, rather, saw Mercury as patron god of both artists and
thieves.
Ah well, let the “carping mentality” in current aesthetics HAVE at ME
then, too, as imitator: they'll find me finally “disciple” of so many pre-
decessors and contemporaries as’ll keep them busy cataloging for years. As
for the rest? Come! Let’s join together in appreciating each other as well as
what we happily share AND, as Pound says, “gather a live tradition from
the air.”
SCRAPBOOK
e e 24!
ti—AT

APPENDIX

SELECTED CATALOGUE DESCRIPTIONS OF THE FILMS

FILMOGRAPHY

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

INDEX
242 BRAKHAGE

SELECTED CATALOGUE DESCRIPTIONS

OF THE FILMS

For distribution catalogues Stan Brakhage has commented on a number of his

films; the following isa selection to outline the range of his conscious concerns.
A complete filmography follows on page 255. —R.A.H.

Aftermath (1981) complexity of branches in which the

shadow man hangs himself.
The raw meat of the mind’s imagina-
tion, the pounding blood of it, attempt- Aquarien (1974)
ing to erase (rather than assimilate) a
televised movie of ferocious popular “EN”? —as the dictionary has it: “made
appeal...a life versus death struggle of, of or belonging to” (as I have it)
played out in the purely visual (anti- Aquarious/an(d) so forth: Latin water
numerical) area of thought. carrier in the sky, etc. This is my first
fully conscious “tone poem” film.
@ (1979)
Arabic One (1981)
The first film of mine which is so very
much there where it’s at THAT it The beginning of a new series. In the
deserves visual symbol as title and no tradition of the Roman Numerals, yet
further explanation from me at/et? all. entirely unique, this shift-of-vision
takes its cues from consideration of the
Angels’ (1971) mind itselfas jewel.

This then the property of many angels. Arabic Two (1981)

Echoing an earlier mode offilm (Roman
Anticipation of the Night (1958)
Numeral IX) this could be seen as an
The daylight shadow of a man in its equivalent of vis.a.vis./transference—
movement evokes lights in the night. A this film as “key” to the difference
rose bowl held in hand reflects both sun between the two series...a metamor-
and moon like illumination. The open- phosis “at the border” ofdiffering levels
ing of a doorway onto trees anticipates of thought.
the twilight into the night. A child is
born on the lawn, born of water with its Arabic Three (1981)
promissory rainbow, and the wild rose.
It begins to be clear that the Arabic
It becomes the moon and the source ofall
Numeral Series is (as thought process)
light. Lights of the night become young
more purely envisioned music than any
children playing a circular game. The
moon moves over a pillared temple to previous film-making given to me to do.
which all lights return. There is seen the
sleep of innocents in their animal The Art of Vision (1961-1965)
dreams, becoming the amusement, their Includes the complete Dog Star Man and
circular game, becoming the morning. is a full extension of the singular visible
The trees change color and lose their themes of it. Inspired by that period of
leaves for the morn, they become the music in which the word symphonia was
SCRAPBOOK 243

created and by the thought that the term, have a center, so to speak, slightly off
as then, was created to name the overlap centre.
and enmeshing of suites, this film pre-
sents the visual symphony that Dog Star Clancy (1974)
Man can be seen as and also all the suites
of which it is composed. But as it is This is a portrait of the man I choose to
a film, not work of music, the above
call “the greatest ’'ve known”: Clancy,
suggests only one of the possible whom the fates surnamed Sheehy,
approaches to it. For instance as
personifies for me that which is simply
“cinematographer,” at source, means
human beyond condition and all condi-
tioning.
“writer of movement,” certain poetic
analogies might serve as well. The form
The Dead (1960)
is conditioned by the works ofarts which
have inspired Dog Star Man, its growth Europe weighted down so much with
of form by the physiology and experi- that past, was The Dead. I was always
ences (including experiences of art) of Tourist there; I couldn’t live in it. The
the man who made it. Finally it must be graveyard could stand for all my view of
seen for what it is. Europe, for all the concerns with past
art, for involvement with symbol. The
Bird (1978) Dead became my first work in which
This the first clear vision I’ve had of the
things that might very easily be taken as
hot-blooded dinosaurs still living symbols were so photographed as to
among us.
destroy all their symbolic potential. The
action of making The Dead kept me
Black Vision (1965) alive.

...1S inspired by the only passage in Deus

Ex (1971)
Jean Paul Sartre’s writings which has
ever specifically concerned me —the pas- I have been many times very ill in hospi-
sage from Nausea wherein the pro- tals; and I drew on all that experience
tagonist sits in a park and imagines his while making Deus Ex in West Penn.
Hospital of Pittsburgh: but I was espe-
suicide.
cially inspired by the memory of one
Burial Path (1978) incident in an Emergency Room of
S.F.’s Mission District: while waiting
The film begins with the image of a dead for medical help, I had held myself
bird. together by reading an April-May,
The mind moves to forget, as well as 1965 issue of Poetry Magazine; and the
to remember: this film, in the tradition following lines from Charles Olson’s
of Thot-Fal’n, graphs the process of “Cole’s Island” had especially centered
forgetfulness against all oddities of the experience, “touchstone” of Deus
remembered bird-shape. The film Ex, for me: Charles begins the poem
might best be seen along with Sirius with the statement, “I met Death—” and
Remembered and The Dead as the third then: “He didn’t bother me, or say any-
part of atrilogy. In Memoriam: Donald thing. Which is/ not surprising, a per-
Sutherland. son might not, in the circumstances;/ or
at most a nod or something. Or they
Centre (1978) would. But they wouldn’t,/ or you
A series of narrative events, stories if wouldn’t think to either, if itwas Death.
you like, but so clustered visually as to And/ He certainly was, the moment I
244 BRAKHAGE

saw him.” The film begins with this the mind ‘dupes’ remembered experi-
sense of such an experience and goes on ence into some semblance of, say, com-
to envision the whole battle of hospital posed surety rather than imbalanced
on these grounds, thru the heart surgery accuracy—as thought may even warp
seen as equivalent to Aztec ritual sacri- ‘scene’ into symmetry, or ‘face’ into mul-
fice...the lengths men go to avoid so titudinous mask. What will have been
simple and straight a relationship with becomes what will de deing. [ve tried to
Death as Charles Olson managed on/in ‘give the lie’ to this genesis of all white-
“Cole’s Island.” lying.

Door (1971) Duplicity IIT (1980)

This is the only all-inclusive autobiog- The final Duplicity in this series does
raphy I’ve yet managed; and as I’m still seem a resolve with the term. All previ-
alive, it is to be understood as a ous visual manifestations have been
metaphor which defines the limits of extended (thru 4-roll superimpositions)
expectation. to their limit. Obvious costumes and
masks, Drama as an ultimate play-
Duplicity (1978) for-truth, and totemic recognition of
human animal life-on-earth dominate all
A friend of many year’s acquaintance
the evasions duplicity otherwise affords.
showed me the duplicity of myself. And,
midst guilt and anxiety, I came to see
that duplicity often shows itself forth in
Eye Myth (1972, 1981)
semblance of sincerity. Then a dream 190 frames, begun in 1968 as sketch for
informed me that Sincerity IV, which I The Horseman, The Woman, and The
had just completed, was such a Moth.
semblance. The dream ended with the
word “Duplicity” scratched white across eyes (1971)
the closed eyelid (as the title The Weir-
After wishing for years to be given-
Falcon Saga had been given to me). I saw
the-opportunity of filming some of the
that the film in question demonstrated a
more “mystical” occupations of our
duplicity of relationship between the
Times—some of the more obscure Pub-
Brakhages and animals (Totemism) and
lic Figures which the average imagina-
environs (especially trees), visiting
tion turns into “bogeymen”...viz.:
friends (Robert Creeley, Ed Dorn,
Policemen, Doctors, Soldiers, Politi-
Donald Sutherland, Angelo
cians, etc.:—I was at last permitted to
DiBenedetto and Jerome Hill among
ride in a Pittsburgh Policecar, camera in
them) and people-at-large. I saw that the
hand, the final several days of Sept.
film shifted its compositions equally
1970—this opportunity largely due to
along a line of dark shapes as well as
the efforts of a Pittsburgh newspaper
light, and that it did not progress (as did
earlier Sincerities) but was rather a cor-
photographer, Mike Chikiris...who
relative of Sincerity III. Accordingly I was sympathetic to my film show at The
changed the title to Duplicity. Carnegie Institute and responded to my
wish as stated on that occasion —there-
Duplicity II (1978)
fore pleaded my “cause” eloquently with
Police Inspectors of his acquaintance:
This, the second film of the continuing my thanks to him, to Sally Dixon of The
autobiographical Duplicity series, is Carnegie Institute and to the Policemen
composed of superimpositions much as who created the situation that made this
SCRAPBOOK 245

film possible. Films By Stan Brakhage (1961)

As to the film itself: “Polis is eyes,”
said Charles Olson, having found the I had a camera with which I could make
archeological root of the word-end (thus multiple superimpositions spontane-
beginning) of, say, “metropolis,” etc. ously. It had been lent to me for a week.
‘Police is a clear etymological derivative I was also given a couple of rolls of color
of ‘polis’.” film which had been through an inten-
The more currently popular fix on sive fire. The chance that the film would
these terms comes from, say, Dashiel not record any image at all left me free to
Hammet’s “private eye,” & the sense of experiment and to try to create the sense
response-ability which Raymond Chan- of the daily world in which we live, and
dler and even Ross MacDonald give to what it meant to me. I wanted to record
their detective heros under that term. our home, and yet deal with it as being
that area from which the films by Stan
The Police, then, are the public eyes;
Brakhage arise, and to try to make one
and they are, thus, expected to be Spe-
arise at the same time....
cialists of that ability-to respond which
most of the rest of the society has lost all
Fire of Waters (1965)
Metro sense-of.
The experience of making this film Inspired by a statement in a letter from
prompted that clarity of terms: “Polis is poet Robert Kelly: “The truth of the
eyes” was my constant prayer, to make matter is this that: man lives in a fire of
that experience clear, the last entire day waters and will live eternally in the first
of photographing. taste’ —this film is a play of light and
The film mostly assembled, rather sounds upon that theme.
than edited, is thus the surest track I
could make of what it was given to me to Flight (1974)
see.
Pun on “light” intended—that short
It is “framed” by clouds and the ocean
preceeding expellation of breath perhaps
for the simplest reasons of “perspec-
the “subject matter” of this film which
livers
centers in consideration of death. It is
the third tone poem film and did much
Fifteen Song Traits (1965, 1980)
surprise me by thus completing a trilogy
A series of individual portraits of ofthe “4 classical Elements.”
friends and family, all inter-related in
what might be called a branch growng Foxfire Childwatch (1971)
directly from the trunk of Songs 1 thru Ken, Flo, and Nisi Jacobs in the Syra-
14. In order of appearance: Robert cuse Airport: this is what you might call
Kelly, Jane and our dog Durin, our boys baby-sitting in the swamp.
Bearthm and Rarc, daughter Crystal
and the canary Cheep Donkey, Robert The Governor (1971)
Creeley and Michael McClure, the rest
of our girls Myrrena and Neowyn, On July 4th, 1976, I and my camera
Angelo DiBenedetto, Ed Dorn and his toured the state of Colorado with Gov-
family, and Jonas Mekas (to whom the ernor Richard D. Lamm, as he traveled
whole of the Fifteen Song Traits is dedi- in parades with his children, appeared at
cated), as well as some few strangers, dinners, lectured, etc. On July 20th, I
were the source of these Traits coming spent the morning in his office in the
into being —my thanks to all...and to state capitol and the afternoon with him-
all who see them clearly. self and his wife in a television studio,
246 BRAKHAGE

then with Mrs. Lamm greeting guests light, and as he/me feels the self that
to the governor’s mansion and finally way, it sings of and to itself.
with Governor Lamm in his office
again. These two days of photography Oh Life—A Woe Story—The A Test
took me exactly one year to edit into a News (1963)
film which wove itself thru multiple Three TV “concretes.”
superimpositions into a study of light
and power.
Lovemaking (1966)
“he was born, he suffered, he died” An American Kama Sutra—Love’s
(1974) answer to filmic pornography. .. four
visions ofsexual loving which exist in an
The quote is Joseph Conrad answering a
aesthetic balance of feeling the very
critic who found his books too long.
opposite of the strip-tease as usually
Conrad replied that he could write a
encountered in both Hollywood movies
novel on the inside of a matchbook-
and the foreign, so-called “Art Film”: a
cover, thus (as above), but that he “pre-
totally new experience.
ferred to elaborate.” The “Life” of the
film is scratched on black leader. The
Made Manifest (1980)
“elaboration” of color tonalities is as the
mind’s eye responds to hieroglyph. “Every man’s work shall be made man-
ifest, for the day shall declare it, because
The Horseman, The Woman, it shall be revealed by fire and the fire
and The Moth (1968) shall try every man’s work of what sort it
A long myth drawn directly onto the is.” —1 Corinthians 111-113
film’s surface, which is painted, dyed,
treated so that it will grow controlled Mothlight (1963)
crystals and mold—as textures of the What a moth might see from birth to
figures and forms of the drama—, some death if black were white and white were
images stamped thru melted wax crayon black.
techniques, some images actual objects
(such as moth wings) collaged directly Murder Psalm (1981)
on the celluloid...so that the pro-
tagonists of this myth (as listed in the “’.. unparalleled debauchery, when
title) weave thru crystalline structures man turns into a filthy, cowardly, cruel,
and organic jungles of the colorful vicious reptile. That’s what we need!
world of hypnogogic vision—edited And what’s more, a little ‘fresh blood’
into “themes and variations” that tell “a that we may grow accustomed to it...”
thousand and one” stories while, at the (Dostoyevsky, The Devils, Part II,
same time, evoking Baroque music... Chapter VIII). “In my novel The Devils
the primary musical inspiration being I attempted to depict the complex and
the harpsichord sonatas of Domenico heterogeneous motives which may
Scarlatti. prompt even the purest of heart and the
most naive people to take part in an
Hymn To Her (1974) absolutely monstrous crime” (Dos-
toyevsky, The Diary of a Writer).
“Her” to me is always Jane, in the first
place, but also Hera: “goddess of
women and = marriage,” naturally Nightmare Series (1978)
enough. Then too, as it is a hymn of Four films so related to each other as to
 SCRAPBOOK 247

be an equivalent of that frightful dream- The Process (1972)

ing which makes Wake of the following
day, so that it be spent mourning the LIGHT was primary in my consider-
events of the night. A decade and a half ation. All senses of “process” are (to me)
ago, poet Robert Kelly told me that the based primarily on “thought-process”;
“crucial work” of our Time might be and “thought-process” is based prima-
what he calls “the dream work”: I hope, rily on “memory re-call”; and that, as
with this Series, to have entertained his any memory process (all process finally)
challenge more thoughtfully than with is electrical (firing of nerve connection)
any previous “dream” filmmaking. In and expresses itself most clearly as a
homage to Sigmund Freud and Sur- “back-firing” of nerve endings in the eye
which DO become visible to us (usually
realism, this film proposes clear visible
eyes closed) as “brain movies” —as
alternatives to the consideration of both
Michael McClure calls them. When we
“The Interpretation of...” and all pre-
are not re-constructing “a scene” (re-
vious representation of ...dreaming.
calling something once seen), then we
are watching (on the “screen” of closed
Other (1980) eye-lids) the very PROCESS itself...
A film photographed in Amsterdam but
dedicated to capturing a quality of mind Purity And After (1978)
engendered there —not, certainly, alie-
Two short films, the first NOT about
nation (as often in travel) but rather
purity itself, whatever that might be,
some heightened sense of being other.
but rather an equivalent ofthe process of
Dedicated to Virgil Grillo.
searching for purity in the mind...the
second film, then, thought’s rebound
Pasht (1965) from that.
In honor of the cat, so named, and the
goddess of all cats which she was named The Riddle Of Lumen (1972)
after (that taking shape in the Egyptian
The classical riddle was meant to be
mind of the spirit of cats), and of birth
heard, of course. Its answers are con-
(as she was then giving kittens when the
tained within its questions; and on the
pictures were taken), of sex as source,
smallest piece of itself this possibility
and finally of death (as this making was
depends: upon SOUND — “utterly,”
the salvage therefrom and_ in
like they say... the pun its pivot. There-
memoriam).
fore, my Riddle Of Lumen depends upon
qualities of LIGHT. All films do, of
The Peaceable Kingdom (1971) course. But with The Riddle Of Lumen,
This film, one of the most perfect it has “the hero” ofthe film is light/itself. It is
ever been given to me to make, was a film I’d long wanted to make—
inspired by the series of paintings of the inspired by the sense, and specific for-
same title by Edward Hicks. mal possibilities, of the classical Eng.-
lang. riddle...only one appropriate to
The Presence (1972) film and, thus, as distinct from language
as I could make it.
The Presence reflects some sight of Insect
as Being. The imagined aura and envi- Roman Numeral Series
ronment of a beetle creates a “world”
wherein this solitary insect may simply The Roman Numeral Series is dedicated
_ be seen. to Don Yannacito.
248 BRAKHAGE

EOFS) IV (1980)
This begins a new series of films which The term “deja vu” comes to mind each
would ordinarily be called “abstract,” time I view this film—this, then, some-
“non-objective,” “non-representation- how the “echoing” of the birth of imag-
al,” etc. I cannot tolerate any of those ery.
terms and, in fact, had to struggle It was while studying this film that I
against all such historical concepts to decided to group these “romans” under
proceed with my work. Midst creative the title Roman Numeral Series and to
process, the sound “imagnostic” kept give up the term “imagnostic”
ringing in my ears. It seems to be an altogether... also to dedicate the series
enjambment of Latin and Greek; but to Don Yannacito who had seen some-
Charlton T. Lewis’ “Elementary Latin thing “concrete” and even narratively
Dictionary” gives me (via Guy Daven- dramatic in this work.
port) “image”...Sanscrit = AIC =
“like,” GNOSIS “knowledge,” GNOS- V (1980)
TIC AGNOSCO = “to recognize”/“to
An imagery sharpas stars and hard as the
know” and the happier IMAGINOSUS
thought-universe (turning back upon
“full of fancies”/“fantasies,” illustrated
itself) absorbed in gentle patterns of con-
by Catullus’ singular use (perhaps crea-
templation.
tion of the term?) in the line “His mind
solidly filled with fancies of a girl.”
Even though exhausted by _ this
VI (1980)
etymological pursuit, and despite my What shall one say?
prejudice against taking on “foreign
airs” of tongue, “Imagnostic,” keeps VII (1980)
singing in my head and escaping my lips
What CAN one say?—that won’t limit,
in conversation. I’m not sure if this
by language, the complexity of moving
work is titled “I” for “Imagnostic,” or
visual thinking?...the skein of pattern
“T” as designating first person singular,
that seeks to make its own language.
or “T” Roman Numeral One.
VIII (1980)
TIATI79))
This the most formal of all these works.
Now that /7 has been completed, one
would suppose that the above film J is IX (1980)
“One”... unless, of course, this film’s
This the most absolute.
spoken title is “aye-aye” or even,
perhaps, slyly referring to the two
“eyes” which made it, as distinct from Salome (1980)
the singularity of vision which flattens
space in the making of its predecessor. Portrait of the great chess master, aes-
thetician, human being Eugene Salome.

III (1980) Scenes From Under Childhood: Sections

1-4 (1967-1970)
The third in this series of Imagnostic
Films seems particularly magic to me A visualization of the inner world of
inasmuch as I cannot even remember the foetal beginnings, the infant, the baby,
photographic source of these images or, the child —a shattering of the “myths of
thus, of having taken them. childhood” through revelation of the
SCRAPBOOK 249

extremes of violent terror and over- Sexual Meditation: Open Field (1973)
whelming joy of that world darkened to
most adults by their sentimental remem- This film takes all the masturbatory
bering of it...a “tone poem” for the themes of previous Sexual Mediations
eye—very inspired by the music of back to source in pre-adolescent dreams.
Olivier Messiaen. Open Fie/d is in the mind, ofcourse, and
exists as a weave of trees, grasses, waters

Sexual Meditation No. 1: Motel

and bodies poised and fleeting at chil-
(1970,1980)
dhood’s end. The scene is lit as by sun
and moon alike and haunted by the pur-
This film was originally photographed suant adult.
in 1970 in regular 8mm. It has now (a
decade later) been blown-up to 16mm so The Shores of Phos: A Fable (1972)
that it can join the rest of the Sexual
Meditation Series. Phos = Light, but then I did also want
that word within the title which would
designate place, as within the nation-
Sexual Meditation: Reom with View
alities of “the fabulous”’—a_ specific
(1971)
country of the imagination with tangible
Directly in the tradition of Sexual shores, etc. The film adheres strictly to
Meditiation No. 1: Motel (first available the ordinary Form of the classical fable.
only in 8mm), this “sequel” does explore
further the possibilities of nudes in a Short Films 1975: 1-10
room; and as it was made in 16mm, it is
This is a series of ten deliberately unti-
available in both 16 and 8mm.
tled films, each separated on the reel by
several feet of black leader.
Sexual Meditation: Faun’s Room, Yale
(1972)
Short Films: 1976
This, the third, of the Sexual Medita-
Four films verging on portraiture, con-
tion Series might also be seen as a trian-
verging to make a drama for all seasons,
gular portrait of Juliaand P. Adams Sit-
starring: Jane Brakhage as The
ney and Jane Brakhage.
Dreamer; Bob Benson as the Magnifi-
cent Stranger; Omar Beagle as The
Sexual Meditation: Office Suite (1972) Snow Plow Man; Jimmy Ryan Morris
This film evolves from several years’ as The Poet, and as Doc Holliday.
observation of the sexual energy which
charges the world of business and the Sincerity (1973)
qualities of palatial environ which this This, the first completed reel of work-
energy often creates. It is one of the most in-progress, draws on autobiographical
perfect films it has been given to me to energies and images which reflect the
make. first 20 years of my living. I have three
definitions of the word “sincerity” to sus-
Sexual Meditation: Hotel (1972) tain my working along these lines of
This film takes its cues from that thought with this autobiographical
ultimate situation of Sex Med./ material: (1) Ezra Pound’s marvelous
masturbation —the loft-and-lonely hotel mistranslation of aChinese ideogram—
room. It is thus easily twice the length “Sincerity..the sun’s lance coming to
and complexity of any previous film in rest on the precise spot verbally”. . . (of
this series. which I would change, for my purposes,
250 BRAKHAGE

the last word to “visually”), (2) Robert which prompted Remembrance of Things
Creeley’s trace-of-the-word for me on Past). Michael McClure’s Fleas and
the back of aBuffalo restaurant menu— Andrew Noren’s The Exquisite Corpse
“Sym-keros...same-growth (Ceres) III were additional sources of inspira-
create...of the same growth,” and (3) tion for the making of this work.
Hollis Frampton’s track-of-it to “the
greek,” viz—‘a glazed pot (i.e. one SincerityIV (1980)
which will hold water).” This film This, the 6th film of the Sincerity/
might best be seen, then, as a graph of Duplicity series, seems rooted in the ear-
light equivalent to autobiographical liest tradition of my work, Psycho-
thought process. Drama, as well as in the most recent,
Imagnostic, directions taken. It 1s
Sincerity II (1975) remembrance as thought fashions it in
This continuation of my autobiography lonely hotel rooms, sincere return of the
is composed of film photographed by mind to that which is loved, ephemeral
many people: Bruce Baillie, Jane faces of children growing older, famil-
Brakhage, Larry Jordan and Stan Phil- iar objects interwoven with easy alien
lips, among others. Most of the footage familiarity, the images of strangers in
is drawn from 20,000 feet of “home UNeasy identification, sexual posture
movies,” “out-takes” and the like, I’ve and the lure of The Beloved as irreduci-
salvaged of my photography over the ble image.
years.
It is of the Brakhage family’s coming Sincerity V (1980)
into being. This, then, finishes eleven years of edit-
It is composed in the light of those ing drawing on 3(0-some years of photo-
electrical traces we call “memory”; and graphy. I will surely work autobiog-
it is as true to that “thought process” as I raphically again, but the modes of“Sin-
was enabled to make it. This project was cerity and Duplicity” seem completed
supported by a grant from the National with this film which, on the one hand, is
Endowment for the Arts. as simple in its integrity-of-light as those
follow-the-ball “sing along” early silent
Sincerity III (1978) movies and as complicated as teen-age
metamorphosis. Childhood dissolves in
In the autobiographical tradition of ear-
flame, struck from the hearth.
lier Sincerities, this film takes up the
light-threads of our living 14 years ago
Sirius Remembered (1959)
when the Brakhage family found Home
and “settled,” like they say, into some I was coming to terms with decay of a
sense of permanence. This quality ofliv- dead thing and the decay of the
ing in one place tends to destroy most memories of a loved being that had died
senses of chronology: thus, along lines- and it was undermining all abstract con-
of-thought of growing and shifting cepts of death. The form was being cast
physicality, events can seem to be occur- out of probably the same physical need
ing simultaneously (a thot-process ’kin that makes dogs dance and howl in
to that of The Domain of the Moment), rhythm around a corpse. I was taking
and the memory of such a time IS song as my source of inspiration for the
prompted and sustained by details ofliv- rhythm structure, just as dogs dancing,
ing usually overlooked or taken- prancing around a corpse, and howling
for-granted (such as Proust’s cookie in rhythm-structures or rhythm-
SCRAPBOOK
PER AROOK
intervals might be considered like the Songs 1-7 (1964,1980)
birth of some kind of song.
Songs 8-14 (1965,1980)
Skein (1974) After much technical difficulty and
“A loosely coiled length of yarn elaborate color RE-creation, and thanks
(story)... wound ona reel” —my paren- to economic assistance from Anthology
thesis! This is a painted film (inspired by Film Archives, I’ve managed to enlarge
Nolde’s “unpainted pictures”): “skins” the REGULAR 8mm Songs 1-14 into
of paint hung in a weave of light. 16mm films, which saves them from
extinction (due to rough-&-tumble of
Reg. 8mm lab. work these days) AND
Sluice (1978) permits them a larger public life. My
It is a wooden silver-retrieving sluice, thanks to all those who helped make this
thus light-catch, awash with something possible, especially Jonas Mekas and
like “cheek and jowl clippings of Argen- Mike Phillips.
tine bulls” (as Hollis Frampton reminds
us) and many chemical residues of earth. Song 1
My mind has grown TREE out of the
Portrait of a lady.
forest of all of it.
Songs2 &F 3
Sol (1974)
Fire and a mind’s movement in remem-
“1: SUN 2 not cap: GOLD—used in bering.
alchemy 3: the sun-god of the ancient
Romans”; but then also, as I understand Song 4
it, a french word for “earth,” where-
from we get our “soil”; and then (puns Three girls playing with a ball. Hand
always intended, as I hear them): painted.
soul. . .this also, then, a tone poem film.
Song 5

Soldiers and Other Cosmic Objects (1977) A childbirth song.

This begins the 4th chapter of “The
Songs 6 &F 7
Book of The Film” and entertains
directly the considerations of Chapter 2 6—The painted veil via moth-death;
(The Weir Falcon Saga, The Machine of 7 —San Francisco.
Eden, and The Animals of Eden and
After). Person begins to be defined by Song 8
what it is mot. It might be said that Chap-
ter 1 (Scenes From Under Childhood) set Sea creatures.
forth birth and being, Chapter 2 —con-
sciousness, Chapter 3 (Sincerity)— Songs 9 &F 10
self-consciousness; thus Soldiers and 9—Wedding source and _ substance;
Other Cosmic Objects begins that strictly 10 —Sitting around.
philosophical task of distinguishment
(from, in this case, the rituals and trials Song 11
of public school). I like to think of it as a
work that Ludwig Wittgenstein might Fires, windows, an insect, a lyre of rain
have found more than enjoyable. scratches.
252 BRAKHAGE

Song 12 Super 8mm Films in 16mm (1976, 1978)

Verticals and shadows caught in glass (Airs; Window; Trio; Desert; Absence;
traps. The Dream, N.Y.C., The Return, The
Flower; Gadflies; Sketches; Rembrandt,
Song 13 Etc. and Jane; Highs)
A travel song of scenes and horizontals. The Super 8mm films listed above have
been optically enlarged to 16mm. Some
Song 14
have “translated” better than others (The
Molds, paints and crystals. Dream, N.Y.C., The Return, The
Flower, for instance, seems to me much
Star Garden (1974) greater in its 16mm composition than in
the original Super 8mm), but all of
The “STAR,” as it is singular, is the
them have benefited color-wise from this
sun; and it is metaphored, at the begin-
process due to the careful supervision of
ning ofthis film, by the projector anyone
the transfer; and it was my enthusiasm
uses to show it forth. Then the imagi-
about the possibilities of color-control
nary sun begins its course throughout
during optical “blow-up” which
whatever darkened room this film is seen
inspired the series of films shot in Super
within. At “high noon” (of the narra-
8mm ONLY to be shown in 16mm (all
tive) it can be imagined as if in back of
those 16mms listed to be shown “at 18
the screen. Then it can be seen to shift its
f.p.s.”): thus the entire procedure of
thought-light gradually back thru after-
making these enlargements has pro-
tones and imaginings of the “stars” of
vided a crucial turning-point in my
the film till it achieves a one-to-one rela-
work. The films listed above should,
tionship with moon again. This “sun” of
perhaps, be regarded as translations
the mind’s eye of every viewer does only
from Super 8mm work; and it would be
occasionally correspond with the off-
interesting, in that context, to show
screen “pictured sun” of the film; and
Super 8mm and 16mm versions of the
anyone who cares to play this game of
same films in conjunction. Then, also,
multiple illumination will surely see the
this procedure has made it possible to
film in its most completely conscious
show this very important series of films
light. Otherwise it simply depicts (as
in auditoriums which cannot accom-
Brancusi put it): “One of those days I
modate 8mm.
would not trade for anything under
heaven.”
The Text of Light (1974)
The Stars Are Beautiful (1975) “All that is is light” — Duns Scotus
Erigena. “To see a world in a grain of
This is the first sound film I’ve com-
sand” —William Blake. These the pri-
pleted since 1962 —the first sync sound
mary impulses while working on this
ever. It is a philosophical film...
film. It is dedicated to Jim Davis who
extending the realm of B/ue Moses. Its
finest viewer, so far, has written:
showed me the “first spark” of refracted
film light.
“The sun,—moon—and stars, really
are the footprints of God. —and the bro-
Thigh Line Lyre Triangular (1961)
ken fragments ofthe mirror that reflects
reality. —and they are quite beautiful. I Only at a crisis do I see both the scene
had not seen them before.” (John as I’ve been trained to see it (that is,
Newell) with Renaissance perspective, three-
SCRAPBOOK 253

dimensional logic —colors as we’ve been crying did prompt the greeks to choose
trained to call a color a color, and so this term for their drama. In any case,
forth) and patterns that move straight the film Tragoedia is also ironic (thus,
out from the inside of the mind through perhaps, the Latin of its title) as, often,
the optic nerves... spots before my eyes, is goat “lamentation”; and finally I
so to speak... and it’s a very intensive, should quote this from the O.E.D.: “As
disturbing, but joyful experience. I’ve to the reason of the name many theories
seen that every time a child was born.... have been offered, some even disputing
Now none of that was in Window Water the connexion with ‘goat’.79
Baby Moving; and I wanted a childbirth
film which expressed all of my seeing at The Trip To Door (1971)
such a time.
Directly in the tradition of Scenes From
Under Childhood, this film may indeed
Thot-Fal’n (1978)
constitute a third chapter to “The Book
This film describes a psychological state of The Film.”
*kin to “moon-struck,” its images
emblems (not quite symbols) of 23rd Psalm Branch: Part 1 (1966, 1978)
suspension-of-self within consciousness
This work, created in Reg. 8mm a
and then that feeling of “falling away”
decade ago, optically enlarged to 16mm,
from conscious thought. The film can
was in great danger (as all the Songs) of
only be said to “describe” or be
being lost forever due to deterioration of
emblematic of this state because I cannot
the Original and all Lab Masters.
imagine symbolizing or otherwise rep-
Despite great expense, ve managed to
resenting an equivalent of thoughtless-
enlarge the Original (step-printed) into
ness itself. Thus the “actors” in the film,
a 16mm Master. I chose this film (above
Jane Brakhage, Tom and Gloria Bartek,
all other Songs) FIRST because the mul-
William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg,
tiple splices and hand-painted sections of
Peter Orlovsky and Phillip Whalen are
it endangered it the most AND because I
figments of this Thought-Fallen PRO-
fear the war-inclination ofthis society at
CESS, as are their images in the film to
this time once again. P. Adams Sitney
themselves being photographed.
writes (in Visionary Film): “The furthest
that Brakhage came in extending the lan-
Three Films (1965)
guage of 8mm cinema was his editing of
Includes three short films: Blue White, the 23rd Psalm Branch.... The pheno-
“an intonation of child birth”; Bloods menal and painstaking craftsmanship of
Tone, “a golden nursing film”; Vein, “a this film reflects the intensity of the
film of baby Buddha masturbation.” obsession with which its theme grasped
his mind. In 1966, out of confusion
Tragoedia (1976) about the Vietnam war and the American
reaction to it, Brakhage began to
This film was conceived about 10 years meditate on the nature of war.... The
ago when I heard Norman O. Brown fruit of his studies and thoughts was the
define “Tragedy” as “goat-song” (or as longest and most important of the
Webster’s has it: “Greek tragoidia fr. Songs .. .it is an apocalypse of the imagi-
tragos goat + aiedein to sing; prob. fr. nation.”
the satyrs represented by the original
chorus”). I disagree with the last part of Two: Creeley/McClure (1965)
the Webster explanation and tend to
think that the quality of sound of goats Two portraits in relation to each other,
254 BRAKHAGE

the first of Robert Creeley, the second of I might add that, The Machine (of Eden)
Michael McClure. (These companion operates via “spots’—from sun’s disks
films were reduced to 8mm for necessary (of the camera lens) thru emulsion
inclusion in Fifteen Song Traits —see grains (within which, each, a universe
Songs —but may also be rented in their might be found) and snow’s flakes (echo-
original form.) ing technical aberrations on film’s sur-
face) blots (upon the lens itself) and the
The Weir-Falcon Saga circles of sun and moon, etcetera; these
“mis-takes” give birth to “shape”
The Weir-Falcon Saga (1970) (which, in this work, is “matter,” sub-
The Machine of Eden (1970) ject and otherwise) amidst a weave of
The Animals of Eden and After (1970) thought: (I add these technicalities,
here, to help viewers defeat the habits of
The term The Weir-Falcon Saga
classical symbolism so that this work
appeared to me, night after night, at the
may be immediately seen, in its own
end of each of a series of dreams: I was
light): the “dream” of Eden will speak
“true” to the feeling, tho’ not the
for itself.
images, of those dreams in the editing of
this and the following two films. The
Western History (1971)
three films “go” very directly together,
in the (above) order of their making: yet This is a comedy, tho’ few will know the
each seems to be a clear film in itself. At subject well enough to laugh; for it
this time, I tend to think they constitute meticulously represents the whole per-
Chapter No. 2 of “The Book of The sonal story of Westward Ho and Hoeing
Film” [ve had in mind these last five Man as He might attempt to remember
years (considering Scenes From Under it while watching a Pittsburgh basket-
Childhood as Chapter No. 1): and yet ball game.
these “Weir-Falcon” films occur to me
as distinct from any film-making I have The Wold Shadow (1972)
done before. They engender, in me,
“Wold” because the word refers to ‘for-
entirely “new” considerations. I cannot
ests’ which poets later made “plains,”
describe them: but there is an excerpt
and because the word also contains the
from “The Spoils,” by Basil Bunting,
rustic sense “to kill’?—this then my
which raises hair on the back of my neck
similarly: laboriously painted vision of the god of
the forest.
Have you seen a falcon stoop/
accurate, unforseen/ and absolute, The Women (1973)
between/ wind-ripples over har-
A psychodrama. A_ being-without-
vest? Dead/ of what’s to be, is and
clothes (as inspired by the painter
has been—/ were we not better
Paul Delvaux). A film which searches
dead?/ His wings churn air/ to
flight./ Feathers alight/ with sun, thru two women its definitive “The.”
he rises where/ dazzle rebuts our
stare,/ wonder our fright.
SCRAPBOOK 255

FILMOGRAPHY
All films are silent unless otherwise noted. This filmography uses one assembled by Joyce Rheuban in
1973 for Artforum as its basis and includes corrections to that listing as well as post- 1973 films.
The listings for “blow-ups” and “reductions” are more than technical notations. Brakhage has
noted that their “transference was creative (often taking more energy than to make a new film),
i.e., where the new millimeter (film) is atleast a translation of an earlier work.”

1952 1959
Interim (16mm) 25 min B/W; music by James Wedlock House: An Intercourse (16mm) || min
Tenney B/W
Window Water Baby Moving (16mm) 12 min
1953 color
Unglassed Windows Cast A Terrible Reflection Cat’s Cradle (16mm) 5 min color
(16mm) 35 min B/W Sirius Remembered (16mm) 12 min color
The Boy and the Sea (16mm) 2 min B/W (lost)
1960
1954 The Dead (16mm) || min color
Desistfilm (16mm) 7 min B/W; sound by
Brakhage 1961
The Extraordinary Child (16mm) 10 min B/W Thigh Line Lyre Triangular (16mm) 5 min color
The Way To Shadow Garden (16mm) 10 min B/ Films By Stan Brakhage (16mm) 5 min color
W; sound by Brakhage
1962
1955 Blue Moses (16mm) | 1 min B/W; sound
Untitled color film of Geoffrey Holder’s wed- Silent Sound Sense Stars Subotnick and Sender
ding (16mm), made with Larry (16mm) 2 min B/W (lost)
Jordan in response to an invitation by
Maya Deren 1963
In Between (16mm) 10 min color; music by John Oh Life —A Woe Story —The A Test News
Cage (16mm) 5 min B/W
Reflections on Black (16mm) 12 min B/W; sound Footage for the film Meat Jewel (16mm) color,
by Brakhage which was incorporated into Dog Star Man:
The Wonder Ring (16mm) 4 min color Part Il
(suggested by Joseph Cornell, who used Mothlight (16mm) 4 min color
the footage to make his own Gnir Rednow)
Footage for an incomplete film, Tower House, 1961-1964
that Joseph Cornell (who suggested that Dog Star Man
Brakhage shoot the film) made into his own 1961
Centuries ofJune Prelude: Dog Star Man (16mm) 25 min color
1962
1956 Dog Star Man: Part! (16mm) 35 min color
Zone Moment (16mm) 3 min color (lost) 1963
Flesh of Morning (16mm) 25 min B/W; sound Dog Star Man: Part Il (16mm) 7 min color
Nightcats (16mm) 8 min color 1964
Dog Star Man: Part Ill (16mm) |! min color
1957 1964
Daybreak and Whiteye (16 mm) 8 min B/W; Dog Star Man: Part lV (16mm) 5 min color
sound
Loving (16 mm) 6 min color 1961-1965
1958 The Art of Vision (16mm) 270 min color (derived
Anticipation of the Night (16mm) 42 min color from the film Dog Star Man)
256 BRAKHAGE

1965 Window Suite of Children’s Songs (8mm) 24 min

Three Films [consists of Blue White, Blood’s color (films made by the five Brakhage
Tone, and Vein] (16mm) 10 min color children; Brakhage arranged them in this
Fire of Waters (16mm) 10 min B/W; sound form but did not edit them)
Pasht (16mm) 5 min color
Two: Creeley/McClure (16mm) 5 min color 1969
Black Vision (16mm) 3 min B/W Nuptiae (16mm) 14 min color; photographed
by Brakhage for James Broughton; music by
1967 Lou Harrison
Eye Myth (35mm) 9 seconds color (not shown
in 35mm until 1981, at the Telluride Film 1967-1970
Festival; released in 1972 in 16mm) Scenes From Under Childhood
1967
1968 Scenes From Under Childhood: Section No. |
The Horseman, The Woman and The Moth (16mm) 30 min color; until the late 1970s a
(16mm) 19 min color sound version of this section ofthe film
Lovemaking (16mm) 36 min color (film consists was in distribution—now only a silent ver-
of Parts I-IV) sion is available
1969
1964-1969 Scenes From Under Childhood: Section No. 2
Songs (16mm) 40 min color
1964 Scenes From Under Childhood: Section No. 3
Song | (8mm) 4 min color (16mm) 274 min color
Songs 2 and 3 (8mm) 7 min color 1970
Song 4 (8mm) 5 min color Scenes From Under Childhood: Section No. 4
Song 5 (8mm) 6 min color (16mm) 46 min color
Songs 6 and 7 (8mm) 6 min color
Song 8 (8mm) 5 min color 1970
1965 The Weir-Falcon Saga (16mm) 29 min color
Songs 9 and 10 (8mm) 9 min color The Machine of Eden (16mm) | 1 min color
Song || (8mm) 5 min color The Animals of Eden and After (16mm) 35 min
Song 12 (8mm) 5 min B/W color
Song 13 (8mm) 5 min color
Song 14 (8mm) 5 min color 1970-1972
15 Song Traits (8mm) 47 min color Sexual Meditations
Song 16 (8mm) 7 min color 1970
Songs 17 and |8 (8mm) 8 min color Sexual Meditation No. |: Motel (8mm) 6 min
Songs 19 and 20 (8mm) 14 min color color
Songs 2] and 22 (8mm) 10 min color 1971
1966-1967 Sexual Meditation: Room With View (16mm) 3
23rd Psalm Branch (8mm) 100 min color; Part | min color
is dated 1966; Part Il and the Coda are 1972
dated 1967 Sexual Meditation: Faun’s Room Yale (16mm) 2
1967 min color
Songs 24 and 25 (8mm) 10 min color Sexual Meditation: Office Suite (16mm)
1968 3 min color
Song 26 (8mm) 8 min color Sexual Meditation: Open Field (16mm)
My Mountain Song 27 (8mm) 26 min color 8 min color
1969 Sexual Meditation: Hotel (16mm)
Song 27 (Part Il) Rivers (8mm) 36 min color 5 min color
Song 28 (8mm) 4 min color
Song 29 (8mm) 4 min color 197|
American 30’s Song (8mm) 30 min color “The Pittsburgh Documents”
SCRAPBOOK 257

eyes (16mm) 354 min color Trio (S8mm) 8 min color

Deus Ex (16mm) 334 min color Desert (S8mm) 124 min color
The Act of Seeing with one’s own eyes (16mm) Rembrandt, Etc. and Jane (S8mm) 16 min color
32 min color Highs (S8mm) 7 min color
Absence (S8mm) 8 min color
197| The Dream, NYC, The Return, The Flower
Foxfire Childwatch (16mm) 3 min color (S8mm) 21 min color
Angels’ (16mm) 2 min color
Door (16mm) 134 min color 1977
Western History (16mm) 8% min color Soldiers and Other Cosmic Objects (16mm) 22
The Trip to Door (16mm) 12% min color min color
The Peaceable Kingdom (16mm) 734 min color The Governor (16mm) 58 min color
The Domain of the Moment (16mm) |4 min color
1972
Eye Myth (16mm) 190 frames color 1978
The Process (16mm) 8 min color Sincerity Ill (16mm) 38 min color
The Riddle of Lumen (16mm) 134 min color Duplicity (16mm) 23 min color
The Shores ofPhos: a fable (16mm) 10 min color Duplicity Il (16mm) 15 min color
The Presence (16mm) 24 min color Nightmare Series (16mm) 21 min color
The Wold Shadow (16mm) 24 min color Airs (16mm) 21 min color (first issued in 1976
in S8mm)
1973 Window (16mm) 10 min color (first issued in
Sincerity (16mm) 25 min color 1976 in S8mm)
Gift (S8mm) 62 min color Trio (16mm) 8 min color (first issued in 1976 in
The Women (16mm) 3 min color S8mm)
Desert (16mm) 12!4 min color (first issued in
1974 1976 in S8mm)
Skein (16mm) 5 min color Rembrandt, Etc. and Jane (16mm) 16 min color
Aquarien (16mm) 3 min color (first issued in 1976 in S8mm)
Sol (16mm) 5 min color Highs (16mm) 7 min color (first issued in 1976
Flight (16mm) 54 min color in S8mm)
Dominion (16mm) 5 min color Absence (16mm) 8 min color (first issued in
Hymn to Her (16mm) 2/4 min color 1976 in S8mm)
Clancy (16mm) 44 min color The Dream, NYC, The Return, The Flower (16mm)
Star Garden (16mm) 22 min color 21 min color (first issued in 1976 in S8mm)
The Stars Are Beautiful (16mm) 19 min color; Purity and After (16mm) 54 min color
sound by Brakhage Centre (16mm) 9 min color
The Text ofLight (16mm) 71 min color Bird (16mm) 4 min color
he was bom, he suffered, he died (16mm) 74 min Thot Fal’n (16mm) 114 min color
color Burial Path (16mm) 9 min color
Sluice (16mm) 4 min color
1975
Sincerity Il (16mm) 40 min color 1979
Short Films: 1975 (16mm) 44 min color (divided @ (16mm) 6 min color
into Parts I-X) Creation (16mm) 17/4 min color
23rd Psalm Branch: Part! (16mm) 30 min color
1976 (first issued in 1966 in 8mm)
Short Films: 1976 (16mm) 20 min color
Tragoedia (16mm) 35 min color 1980
Gadflies (S8mm) 134 min color 23rd Psalm Branch: Part Il (16mm) 70 min color
Sketches (S8mm) 10 min color (first issued in 1967 in 8mm)
Airs (S8mm) 21 min color Sincerity IV (16mm) 37 min color
Window (S8mm) |0 min color Sincerity V (16mm) 40 min color
258 BRAKHAGE

Duplicity Ill (16mm) 23 min color Brakhage films are available from:
Salome (16mm) 3 min color Filmmakers’ Cooperative
Other (16mm) 4 min color 175 Lexington Ave.
Made Manifest (16mm) 12 min color
New York, NY 10016
Aftermath (16mm) 10 min color
Murder Psalm (16mm) 18 min color Canyon Cinema Cooperative
Sexual Meditation No. |: Motel (16mm) 2325 Third St., Suite 338
6 min color (first issued in 1970 in 8mm) San Francisco, CA 94107
Songs I-7 (16mm) 28 min color (first issued in
London Film-makers’ Cooperative
1964 in 8mm)
42, Gloucester Ave.
Songs 8-14 (16mm) 34 min color (first issued in
London NW |, England
1964-1965 in 8mm)
Some films are also available from:
1979-1981
Roman Numeral Series Freunde der Deutschen Kinemathek eV
1979 | Berlin 30
1 (16mm) 6 min color Welserstrasse 25
Il (16mm) 74 min color West Germany
1980
Ill (16mm) 3 min color Cine Pro
IV (16mm) 444 min color Obere Waldstrasse 13
V (16mm) 44 min color D 4500 Osnabruck
VI (16mm) 12 min color West Germany
Vil (16mm) 44 min color Cooperative Des Cineastes
1981 Independants
Vill (16mm) 44 min color 3684 Boulevard St. Laurent
IX (16mm) 3 min color Montreal, Que H2X 2V4
Canada
198]
Nodes (16mm) 4 min color MacMillan Films, Inc.
15 Song Traits (16mm) 47 min color (first issued 34 MacQuesten Pkwy., S
in 1965 in 8mm) Mount Vernon, NY 10550
RR (16mm) 15 min color
The Garden of Earthly Delights (35mm and A three-program retrospective is available from:
16mm) 24 min color The American Federation of Arts
41 E. 65th St.
1980-1982 New York, NY 10021
Arabics
1980
! (16mm) 4 min color
2 (16mm) 4 min color
3 (16mm) 9 min color
198]
4 (16mm) 7 min color
5 (16mm) 7 min color
6 (16mm) I! min color
7 (16mm) I! min color
8 (16mm) 7 min color
9 (16mm)
0 + 10 (16mm)
{40 FT3Ges | Say See
[2 4a) Camano
SGRARB
ee OOK@NS
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
Arthur, Paul S. “Stan Brakhage: Four Films,” Artforum, | / (5), Jan. 1973, pp. 41-45 [on The Wonder Ring, Sirius
Remembered, Song |3, and Fire of Waters].

Barr, William R. “Brakhage: Artistic Development in Two Childbirth Films,” Film Quarterly, 29(3), Spring 1976, pp.
30-34 [on Window Water Baby Moving and Thigh Line Lyre Triangular].

Bershen, Wanda. “Autobiography in Stan Brakhage’s 23rd Psalm Branch,” Field of Vision, 2, 1977, pp. 1-5.

Blank, Ed. “On Shelf 22 Years, Pittsburgh Premieres: Festival Screens $150,000 Curiosity,” Pittsburgh Press, June 10,
1979, E-| [about the 1957 city-symphony Brakhage worked on and then was removed from].

Boultenhouse, Charles. “Pioneer of the Abstract Expressionist Film,” Filmwise, |, 1961, pp. 26-27 [on the new
style of the “flying camera’”’].

Brakhage, Jane. “The Birth Film,” Film Culture, 31, Winter 1963-64, pp. 35-36 [on Window Water Baby Moving; also
in Film Culture Reader, 1970].

Callenbach, Ernest. “Films of Stan Brakhage,” Film Quarterly, |4(3), Spring 1961, pp. 47-48 [on Anticipation of the
Night, Sirius Remembered, Wedlock House: An Intercourse, Cat’s Cradle, and Window Water Baby Moving].

Camhi, Gail. “Notes on Brakhage’s 23rd Psalm Branch,” Film Culture, 67-68-69, 1979, pp. 97-108.

Camper, Fred. “The Art of

Vision: A Film by Stan Brakhage,” Film Culture, 46, Autumn 1967, pp. 40-44.

|
“23rd Psalm Branch (Song XXill) A Film by Stan Brakhage,” Film Culture, 46, Autumn 1967, pp. 15-18.
“My Mtn. Song 27,” Film Culture, 47, Summer 1969, pp. 23-26.
“Sexual Meditation #1: Motel, A Film by Stan Brakhage,” Film Culture, 53-55, Spring 1972, pp. 101-104.
“Wester History and The Riddle of Lumen,” Artforum, | | (5), Jan. 1973, pp. 66-71 [also on Anticipation of the
= ba)&
“The Super-8 Stan Brakhage,” Soho Weekly News, Dec. 23, 1976 (p. 32) and Dec. 30 (p. 28) [on Gadflies,
Sketches, Airs, Window, Trio, Rembrandt, Etc. and Jane, Desert, Highs, Absence, and The Dream —N.Y.C. —The Return —
The Flower].
Stan Brakhage: A Retrospective. Filmex 76. Los Angeles, 1976 [23 page catalog].
By Brakhage: Three Decades of Personal Cinema. New York: American Federation of Arts, 1981 [8 page
catalog].

Carroll, Noel. “The Other Cinema,” Soho Weekly News, Feb. 22, 1979, pp. 50, 54 [on Sincerity !-3, Duplicity, Sluice,
Thot-Fal’n, and Burial Path}.

Clark, Dan. Brakhage. New York: Film-Makers Cinematheque, |966, 82 pages.

Cohen, Phoebe. “Scenes From Under Childhood,” Artforum, | | (5), Jan. 1973, pp. 51-55.
“Brakhage’s Sincerity Ill,” Millennium Film Journal, 4-5, 1979, pp. 153-156.
“Brakhage’s |, Il, Ill,” Millennium Film Journal, 7-8-9, 1980-81, pp. 234-237.

Creeley, Robert. “Mehr Licht...” Film Culture, 47, Summer 1969, pp. 22-23 [on Anticipation of the Night and light].

Curtis, David. Section of book Experimental Cinema. New York: Universe, 1971, pp. 130-33.

Davenport, Guy. “Two Essays on Brakhage and His Songs,” Film Culture, 40, Spring 1966, pp. 9-12 [on Songs |-22].

Delancey, Clinton. “A Varied Burst of Brakhage,” Village Voice, June 21, 1973, p. 88 [on Eye Myth, The Process,
Riddle of Lumen, The Shores of Phos: A Fable, The Act of Seeing With One’s Own Eyes, The Wold Shadow, The Presence,
Room With a View, Faun’s Room: Yale, Office Suite, Hotel, Open Field, Sincerity].

Dunbar, Jennifer. “Stan Brakhage: Life behind the camera,” Boulder Monthly, Sept. 1979, pp. 24-29, 74-75.

Dwoskin, Stephen. Film Is: The International Free Cinema. Woodstock: Overlook, 1975, pp. 145-52 [brief survey in
this book].

Field, Simon. “Stan Brakhage: An Introduction,” pp. 4-27 in the catalog Stan Brakhage published by the Arts
Council of Great Britain in 1980 or 1981.
2000 SBRAKEIAGE
“Fourth Independent Film Award,” Film Culture, 24, Spring 1962, p. 5 [awarded for The Dead and Prelude].

Gallo, William. “Filmmaker Stan Brakhage: ‘Movies Weaken Your Mind’,” Denver, Jan. 1976, pp. 48-51, 70-74.

Gordon, Eric Arthur. “Stan Brakhage’s Critics,” Filmwise, 1, 1961, pp. 16-18 [notes on opinions of Mekas, Parker
Tyler, Raymond Borde, Arthur Knight, Ernest Callenbach].

Grossman, Manuel L. “Surrealism in Dog Star Man,” Dada/Surrealism, 1972, pp. 71-77.

Haller, Robert A. “Stan Brakhage in Pittsburgh,” Field of

Vision, 9-10, 1980, pp. 8-11.
“Stan Brakhage: Recent Directions,” Downtown Review, 2(2), Spring 1980, pp. 18-19 [on Creation, and
“abstract” cinema].
Hill, Jerome. “Brakhage and Rilke,” Film Culture, 37, Summer 1965, pp. 13-14 [on first ten Songs].
“Two Essays on Brakhage and His Songs,” Film Culture, 40, Spring 1966, pp. 8-12 [on Songs | 1-22].
. “23rd Psalm Branch (Song XXIll) A Film By Stan Brakhage,” Film Culture, 46, Autumn 1967, pp. 14-15.
“Brakhage’s eyes,” Film Culture, 52, Spring 1971, pp. 43-47.

Hills, Henry. “Hyperkinetic Stan/dards,” Cinemanews, 77(6), Nov.-Dec. 1977, pp. 4-5 [on Sincerity 2, Short Films
1975, Tragoedia, and The Governor].

Hoberman,J.“Duplicitously Ours: Brakhage in New York,” Village Voice, April 8, 1981, pp. 45-46.
“Formal Documents of Power,” Village Voice, Nov. 21, 1977, p. 43 [on The Governor].

Jenkins, Bruce and Carroll, Noel. “Text of Light,” Film Culture, 67-68-69, 1979, pp. 135-138.

Johnson, Paul. “Brakhage: A Learned Language,” Village Voice, Jan. 20, 1972.

Kelly, Robert. “Robert Kelly on The Art ofVision,” Film Culture, 37, Summer 1965, pp. 14-15 [framed by letter to
Jonas Mekas from Brakhage].

Kelman, Ken. “Perspective Reperceived: Brakhage’s Anticipation of The Night” in P. Adams Sitney, ed., The Essential
Cinema, Essays on the Films in the Collection of Anthology Film Archives, Vol. |. N.Y.U. Press, 1975. pp. 234-239.
——_—. “Animal Cinema: Four Frames,” Film Culture, 63-64, 1977, pp. 25-27 [on Mothlight].

Kroll,J.“Up From the Underground,” Newsweek, Feb. 13, 1967, pp. 117-119 [capsule summary of career].

Lamberton, Bob. “23rd Psalm Branch (Song XXiIll) A Film by Stan Brakhage,” Film Culture, 46, Autumn 1967, p. 15.

Landow, George. “Flesh of Morning,” Filmwise, |, 1961, pp. 20-21.

Lee, Douglas. “Discovering Stan Brakhage,” Film Library Quarterly, 4(3), Summer 1971, pp. 23-32 [review of MoMA
1952-1970 Retrospective].

Levine, Charles. “Comments on Stan Brakhage and His Work,” Filmwise, |, 1961, pp. 3-4 [on Anticipation of the
Night and Window Water Baby Moving].

Levoff, Daniel H. “Brakhage’s The Act of Seeing With One’s Own Eyes,” Film Culture, 56-57, Spring 1973, pp. 73-81.

Maas, Willard. “A Love Affair: | talk to Myself about Stan Brakhage,” Filmwise, |, 1961, pp. 32-36.

Mapp, Thomas. “Comment,” Filmwise, |, 1961, pp. 22-23 [very brief survey of career to date].

Markopoulos, Gregory J. “Stille Nacht,” Filmwise, 1, 1961, pp. 4-5 [two paragraph tribute].

McClure, Michael. “Dog Star Man,” Film Culture, 29, Summer 1963, pp. 12-13.
Mekas, Jonas. Movie Journal, The Rise of aNew American Cinema, 1959-1971. New York: Collier, 1972 [Extensive
mention throughout this selection of commentary].
“Movie Journal,” Village Voice, March 30, 1972, p. 65 [on the “Pittsburgh documents”’].
“Movie Journal,” Village Voice, Nov. 14, 1974, p. 96 [on The Text of Light].
“Notes on Films of Joseph Cornell,” Castelli Gallery Catalog, 1976 [Background on films Brakhage shot
for Cornell].
“Brakhage and the Structuralists,” Soho Weekly News, Nov. 24, 1977, pp. 25, 38 [see also Brakhage’s reply
to Mekas in the letters column of the Soho News of Dec. 8, 1977].
SCRAPBOOK 26l

Michelson, Annette. “Camera Lucida/Camera Obscura,” Artforum, 11(5), Jan. 1973, pp. 30-37 [the Brakhage
section, “Camera Obscura,” is reprinted in New Forms in Film (Montreaux, |974)].

Nesthus, Marie. “The Influence of Olivier Messiaen on the Visual Art of Stan Brakhage in Scenes From Under
Childhood, Part One,” Film Culture, 63-64, 1977, pp. 39-51, 179-181.
Stan Brakhage. Minneapolis/St. Paul: Film in the Cities and the Walker Art Center, 1979 [23 page
monograph].

Pike, Robert. “A Letter From the West Coast,” Film Culture, 14, Nov. 1957, pp. 9-10 [has fragment from
Brakhage letter explaining his new direction in the late 1950s).

Pruitt, John. “Stan Brakhage’s Sincerity, Reels One, Two, and Three,” Downtown Review, | (2), April 1979, pp. 9-11.

Renan, Sheldon. An Introduction to the American Underground Film. New York: Dutton, 1967 [biographical entry, pp.
118-127].

Richie, Donald. Stan Brakhage: A Retrospective, !952-1970. Program notes the author once intended to reprint as
a book. Assembled for the Museum of Modern Art, 36 pages.

Sainer, Arthur. “Stan Brakhage, ‘the courage of perception’,” Vogue, Sept. |, 1970 [on Horseman, Woman and the
Moth and Sirius Remembered].

Schultz, Victoria. “Independent Film,” Changes, May |, 1972 [on The Act of Seeing with one’s own eyes].
“Stan Brakhage: Reflections on a Patriarchal Eye,” Changes, July 1972 [survey offilms and aspirations].

Sharrett, Christopher. “Brakhage’s Dreamscape,” Millennium Film Journal, 6, Spring 1980, pp. 43-49 [on the
Nightmare Series].

Simon, Bill. “New Forms in Film,” Artforum, Oct. 1972, pp. 78-84 [on Pittsburgh trilogy].

Sitney, P. Adams. “Introductions to Stan Brakhage,” Filmwise, |, 1961, pp. 28-31 [on Anticipation of the Night, Flesh
of Moming, Daybreak, and The Dead].
“Anticipation of the Night and Prelude,” Film Culture, 26, Winter 1962, pp. 54-57.
“Imagism in Four Avant-Garde Films,” Film Culture, 31, Winter 1963-64, pp. 15-21 [on Dog Star Man, Part
|; reprinted in Film Culture Reader, 1970].
“Avant Garde Film,” Afterimage, 2, Autumn 1970, pp. 8-13 [on Lovemaking, Scenes from Under Childhood,
23rd Psalm Branch].
. “The Idea of Morphology,” Film Culture, 53-55, Spring 1972, pp. 1-24 [on Reflections on Black, Thigh Line
Lyre Triangular, Way to Shadow Garden, Dog Star Man, My Mountain, Song 27, Anticipation of the Night].
Visionary Film: The American Avant-Garde | 943-1978, New York: Oxford, 1979, chapters 6, 7, and 12.

Smith, Katherine. “Stan Brakhage: Transforming Personal Vision into a Rhythmic Structure,” Film Library Quar-
terly, 4(3), Summer 1971, pp. 43-47 [survey of 20 years of work].

Stoller, James. “Cinema 16: A Criticism and a Challenge,” New York Film Bulletin, | (20), Oct. 1960, pp. |, 4-5
[request that Cinema |6 show Brakhage program, not haphazardly show single films].

Sutherland, Donald. “A Note on Stan Brakhage,” Film Culture, 24, Spring 1962, pp. 84-85 [on The Dead and
Prelude].

Talley, Dan. “Aspects of Defamiliarization in the Films of Stan Brakhage,” Substitute, May 1975, pp. 14-16 [on Cat’s
Cradle and Sirius Remembered].

Taubin, Amy. “Packaging Brakhage,” Soho Weekly News, April 15, 1981, page unknown [mostly on Murder Psalm
and philosophical assumptions].

Tyler, Parker. “Stan Brakhage,” Film Culture, 18, April 1958, pp. 23-25 [on all films through Loving].
“New Images: Loving,” Film Quarterly, Spring 1959, pp. 50-53.
“An Open Letter to Stan Brakhage from Parker Tyler,” Filmwise, |, 1961, pp. 18-19 [expression of
disenchantment over new direction of Brakhage’s film-making].

Varela, Willie. “Fire of Vision,” Southwest Media Review, Spring 1981, pp. 35-37.

Youngblood, Gene. Expanded Cinema. New York: Dutton, 1970, pp. 87-91 [on Dog Star Man].
262

INDEX
The Act of Seeing with one’s own eyes 195, 198 Lawrence, D.H. 38, 121
Archer, Barrie 235 Maas, Willard 93-103
Bach, J.S. 50 MacDonald, George 142
Baillie, Bruce 146, 156 Machaty, Gustave 239
Barrie, Diana 235 Markopoulos, Gregory 238
Belson, Jordan 208 McClure, Michael 32, 34, 80, 106, 222, 226
Benson, Robert 3 McLaren, Norman 9, 92
Birdwhistell, Ray L. 37 Mekas, Jonas 8, 49, 124-33
Blake, William 74 Meélies, Georges 57, 122, 179
Branaman, Robert 25 Menken, Marie 91-93
Browning, Elizabeth Barrett 118 Messiaen, Olivier 49,51, 78,215
Cage, John 49, 5| Moore, Ben 98-100
Chikiris, Mike 19] Mothlight 65
Clarke, Shirley 122-23 Newell, John 25
Cocteau, Jean 113, 237 Phillips, Mike 26-27
Conner, Bruce 240 Olson, Charles 14-16, 18, 34, 107, 121, 227,
Creeley, Robert 5, 100-01, 228 236
Davis, Jim 208, 238 Otis, Jim 235
The Dead 149 Pathe, Charles 57
Deren, Maya 109, 122, 148, 237 Peterson, Sidney 237
Desistfilm 113 Pound, Ezra 52, 152, 156, 209, 225, 229, 240
Deus Ex 193-94 Reich, Wilhelm 120, 187-88
Dixon, Sally 194 Riefenstahl, Leni 131,219
Doberman, Gary 235, 238-40 Rossellini, Roberto 237
Dog Star Man 26, 64, 65, 67, 114 Scenes From Under Childhood 23, 40, 49, 79,
Dorn,Ed 193 134, 145, 152
Duncan, Robert 4, 7, 12, 33,35, 122 Sharits, Paul 177
Eisenstein,S.M. 169, 171-72, 174, 238 Sitney, P. Adams 156-58, 180, 188
Emshwiller, Ed 122-23 Smith, Harry 67-68
Erigena,Scotus 184, 206-07 Spicer, Jack 13
Ernst,Max 12 Stein, Gertrude 14, 21,32, 121, 143,225
eyes 191-93 Stockwell, Dean 235-36
Frampton, Hollis 169ff, 194, 220 Tenney, James 50
The Governor 231 The Text of Light 203-16
Graves, Robert 3 23rd Psalm Branch 80-83, 85, 87-90, | 10-12,
Griffith,D.W. 122, 153, 157, 177-78 124
Hugo, lan 237-38 Urshal, Herman 25
Interim 113 Vanderbeek, Stan 148
Jane [Collom Brakhage] 20, 47, 180, 222, Varela, Willie 235
231-32, 234 Varese, Edgard 49
Johnson, Lyndon 86 Warhol, Andy 28, 108, 116
Joyce,James 22 Williams, William Carlos 12, 15, 121
Kelly, Robert 5, 16, 18, 21, 50, 90, 199 Window Water Baby Moving 195-96
Kelman, Ken 237, 240 Wittgenstein, Ludwig 149
Keyser, Cassius 49 Young, Marguerite 236
Kubelka, Peter 215 Zukofsky, Louis 7
Kurosawa, Akira 237
Film Studies $9.95 ISBN 0-914232-45-2

BRAKTIAGE
SCRAPBOOK
COLLECTED WRITINGS
In the course of making almost two hundred films over the past thirty
years, Stan Brakhage has become synonymous with independent American
film-making. This major collection of writings examines film-making in
relation to social and political contexts, the nature of influence and collab-
oration, the aesthetics of personal experience, and the conditions under
which films were made. Brakhage discusses his predecessors and contem-
poraries, relates film to dance and poetry, and in “A Moving Picture Giving
and Taking Book” provides a manual for the novice. Lectures, interviews,
essays, and many previously unpublished letters document Brakhage’s per-
sonal vision and public persona. Edited by Robert A. Haller, executive
director of Anthology Film Archives, Brékhage Scrapbook includes a com-
plete filmography, an eight-page photo section, selected catalogue
descriptions of films, and a selected bibliography.

A “richly stimulating assemblage” — Publishers Weekly

“An invaluable addition to the resources on the contemporary culture in

America: its heart, its mind, its passion” —Jonas Mekas

Other books by Stan Brakhage: Metaphors on Vision (Film Culture, 1963), Film Biographies (Turtle
Island, 1977).

Cover: Eye Myth © by Stan Brakhage. Design by Bruce R. McPherson. Printed in U.S.A.

DOCUMENTEXT
3S LIRR NRE CRNA AREER SEI:

P.O.BOX 638 NEW PALTZ, NEW YORK 12561