From the 10th onwards, in Munich there will be a Yugoslav film and documentary retrospective at the UNDERDOX — the 8th Film Festival for Document and Experiment.
FIND OUT MORE about this superincredible happening (in German).
I will try my very best to make it there.
It’s good to be back. And to finally, after having reeled from it all, say sorry y’all for the slightly insensitive Dean Norris comment; seen as how that Peckinpahesque demise to a character so amazing, so [later, at least] surprisingly complex and layered was perversely beautiful [or beautifully perverse, have it your way], a demise with such finality that it was almost painful to watch.
Also, #goodbyebreakingbad and thank you for all the crazy shit over the past five years. Thank you Vince Gilligan. Thank you everyone at AMC for being geniuses. Or is that genii?
Anywhoo, I’m back on this and will be posting photos and short films now that I have moved to Germany for my post-grad. I am starting to use a Yashica 35mm and will be making my foray into film photography. Also, more involvement in the audiovisual, as I’m in the process and will be doing several documentaries (two of my own) across the continent. So woohoo to that.
I haven’t posted in a while, so know that this is serious:
I hope that Dean Norris gets accidentally sent to an internment camp for accidentally leaking the ending to Breaking Bad.
While they might look like long exposure photographs of a firework show, the images above are actually vintage prints from military operations in Vietnam. James Speed Hensinger held on to the photographs for over 30 years until releasing them to public last week.
Observe that man. Sitting there, eating his 2pm popcorn. Smugly contemplating the underpinnings of his metaphysical being and the unconquerable forces of destiny and nature that brought him to the edge of that fountain. The fountain. The metaphoric spring of life. Ouroboric, his life, you could say. The 2pm popcorn eater. Underlining and emphasizing the every duality and irony of modern man. Vehemently rejecting modern economic systems and forms of government for obscurely distorted personal cognitions of socialism, all the while wearing a Zara suit under a pink J.Crew tie. Pink? Perhaps to show fellow popcorn eaters in that park that he is there, he is present, despite the whisperings of his life telling him the opposite ever since he first saw light emerging from his mother. Is he present? Perhaps. But he isn’t alive. None of us are.