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28/05/2018

Black Board Drawings by Tacita Dean

#tacita dean #text #chalk #black board drawings

28/04/2018

Images from home movies from 1996, taken just after Munch Bunch (large) gave birth to her three ruffled, fluffy sons (smaller). I was 5 years old, and came down to their cage on the morning of the birth, and watched as the youngest cleaned himself out of the gooey protective sac that he was born in, and took his first steps into the rodent world.

31/03/2018

Hale County This Morning, This Evening (RaMell Ross, 2018)

~~~

“We’re meaning-making machines, and so giving someone—especially as it relates to black culture—a space to make meaning in black culture is to show you the mirror of racism. I very much came to see the film as having a double consciousness in the way that Du Bois talks about that. In one of his books, Darby English said that in order for black work to escape the label of blackness, it needs strategic formalism. It needs something that’s beautiful enough for it not to be reduced. So I’d very much felt that, okay, this [film] has all of the beauty in the world, and all the meaning in the world. There’s no way that this is a black film—this is a film. This is it. This is an experience. And it’s made by this person.”

#film #ramell ross #hale county this morning this evening #text

25/03/2018

Fiorucci Made Me Hardcore (Mark Leckey, 1999)

#mark leckey #fiorucci made me hardcore #film #text

25/03/2018

- Anxiety, Speed and Rave Flyers: Mark Leckey

#mark leckey #text

27/02/2018

Eglantine (Margaret Salmon, 2016)

~~~

The sunrises and sets, the snake contorts, then loosens, subjects exist outside of the work, and reclaim some autonomy (however fleeting). - Margaret Salmon

#eglantine #margaret salmon #film #text

Robot Memoir (Edwin Rostron, 2018)

~~~

We have both spent much of our lives (separately) on the peripheries of English towns or cities, in the so-called ‘Edgelands’; liminal spaces on the margins of the post-industrial landscape (North Tyneside, Leicestershire, and Sheffield). We have both worked in social care positions, in environments where the ‘outside world’ can be easily forgotten. We are familiar with daycare centres, care homes, benefits offices, charity shops. In overlooked, cut-off places where time sometimes seems to stretch, or end, giving way to the imagination or unconscious, to something ...ineffable. This hazy area of the mind could offer a route to spiritual awakening or possibly to mental illness. It is the merging of the inner and outer worlds, and the moments where the unconscious and reality seem to touch each other, that drives our collaborative project. For us this is very tied up with our surroundings, which have happened to be a certain place at a certain time; provincial England in the last part of the 20th Century. We are not trying to represent, replicate or portray these experiences in an anecdotal way, or to make any particular point about them, but rather to channel and abstract their essence into the creation of something new. These ideas and interests leak through.” - Edwin Rostron.

#animation #edwin rostron #text

01/02/18

~~~

“Located three floors high in Rotterdam’s World Trade Centre, the hotel’s massive spherical screen can be seen from street level, a phosphorescent, unidentifiable orb hovering in the street-side window. Its luminous glow is so alluring, I half expect crowds to gather below it, staring up and awaiting further instruction from the unknown higher being that placed it there.

I arrive just after midnight, with a excitement that is both tentative and febrile. Details about what the experience will actually entail have been slim, meaning that to embark on this journey is quite a leap of faith. Interest in the project from those that I’ve spoken to seems to be divided cleanly along two lines, either with a fervent, almost liturgical enthusiasm about the idea or total bemusement over why such a thing might be desirable.

There’s a hotel check-in desk, and a small bar (shut and vacated by 10pm, somewhat invalidating the purpose of a hotel bar), with showers and bathrooms to the left. Everything is branded SLEEPCINEMAHOTEL, all part of the idea of transporting visitors to Apichatpong’s “preferred plane to existence” and making this temporary space feel permanent, and it works. Immediately, it feels disconnected from the building it resides within, away from the city and the festival, something else entirely. Out of the orbit of Planet IFFR, to use the festival’s marketing terminology, onto Planet Apichatpong”

- cut section from an article i’ve written about Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s SLEEPCINEMAHOTEL

~~~

“For me sleeping has always had a link with the cinema. When we dream, we go to the movies in a way. According to scientists, there are four stages of sleep, which form a complete cycle. Each cycle lasts around 90 minutes – in other words the length of a film. So I said to myself that the cinematic form comes from biological needs linked to our sleeping patterns. Cinema is really and truly a derivative of dreaming.” - Apichatpong Weerasethakul

“film is a medium to emulate the dreams of other people” - Apichatpong Weerasethakul

#apichatpong weerasethakul #text #scrap

31/01/18

Emerald (Apichatpong Weerasethakul, 2008)

#emerald #apichatpong weerasethakul #film #text

21/01/18

Things (Ben Rivers, 2014)

#things #ben rivers #film #text

10/01/2018

- from the title essay in Michael Pattison’s criticism collection: ‘No More Sob Stories’

#film criticism #no more sob stories #michael pattison #text

01/01/2018

Twin Peaks S03E01 (David Lynch, 2017)

#twin peaks #david lynch #text

2017: MISC

Above, my submission to BOMB Magazine’s ‘Looking Back on 2017′ feature, asking for responses to the question: “what films, music, books, artworks helped you process 2017?” Because that question is fun, and because I enjoy these exercises, these minor documentations for past and present selves, some more variations on that theme. Things across the year that I have enjoyed engaging with, or that have been helpful in some way, or simply pleasurable, my year-bullets, and then, right at the bottom, three favourites from the year, across all sorts of categories. People talk about these End of Year ramblings as offering closure on the year. If that is so, by now I’ve stretched 2017 out and wrung everything out of it.

Going to exhibitions, looking at things without any expectation and making little demand of them. Walking about, taking it in. Making idiotic observations with friends. Two big shows at The Barbican. The Japanese House, a mix of video, images, drawings and models, all based around Japanese architecture, upstairs, and a life-sized home to walk about in below. More recent, the Jean-Michel Basqiuat show Boom For Real, a hodgepodge of the artist’s work and life that was a bit mis-curated, but interesting regardless. Two of equal scale at the Tate Modern, Soul of a Nation, black art in America from the ‘60s on, and 2017, a really well put together selective retrospective of Wolfgang Tillmans, (yep, him off the Frank Ocean album). Photography, of all styles and techniques, some fantastic, and not all of it entirely successful, but remarkable considering how variable and diverse it was. Alongside a phenomenal career in fashion, some naff political work, thousands of super cool abstracts, photos in the park on a disposable, a big picture of some balls. Do it all! Curation of life and things, maximum productivity, maximum relaxation. ALPHA/ISIS/EDEN, a single room installation at The Showroom, with scribbles, annotations and imagery by Laura Oldfield Ford, and sound design by Jack Latham (Jam City). Small but absorbing to stand within. π, e, ø, a small Ryoji Ikeda show at Almine Reich. Small neat patterns, electronic whirrs and data crashes. A controlled explosion within the an all too perfect white mass.

Going to people’s houses to play on their Playstations. Not having to talk necessarily, but just enjoying sharing a space and going about our separate activities in a way that I have not been able to for a number of years, and that I have greatly missed. Playing What Remains of Edith Finch, an immaculately well put together interactive storytelling experience (packaged by Annapurna Interactive, the same investor behind almost every mid-budget semi-arthouse film out there at the moment, offering an indication of where things are, and where they might be going, games are movies now) in a single sitting. Playing through Night in the Woods in few more. A terrific (non) game about friendship, mental health and returning to a place and finding that it’s changed without you, and one of the smartest, funny and best written games I’ve ever played. Far From Noise, a super chill relaxation experience, of the type I am a sucker for. David O’Reilly’s Everything, a non-game / art-project thing that is so much a non-game that if you put down the controller for a few minutes it proceeds to play itself. Maybe the best of those since Journey, in which you play a little robed character who traverses the desert and sees wonder, travelling alone but interacting non-productively and fleetingly with connected others. In Everything, you can become everything, from the smallest atom to the largest star, dancing ants, hobbling frogs and rolly mammoths, exploring, touching and looking, doing nothing and feeling it all. I’m a pig now. I’m a tree now. I’m sodium now. I’m a pig again.

Reading things, thinking about the words. Jenny Zhang’s Sour Heart, an extraordinary collection of short stories that landed as hard as anything else I’ve read in a while. See also her advice for living and writing, new this year, and her interview/profile of Mitski, and her essay 'How It Feels’, not new but which I returned to multiple times. Durga Chew-Bose’s essay book Too Much And Not The Mood, a stunning collection lead by a belter of an opening essay. Odd things online - Kristen Roupenian’s story in The New Yorker, “Cat Person”, which, regardless of it’s literary merits, cringe-pummelled me to my very core. Dayna Tortorici’s thoughtful, considered and absurdly erudite essay “In The Maze”. Others, which I’ve now lost and forgotten. A book that stunned me, and that I keep buying for other people, Mark Greif’s Against Everything, an essay collection from the editor of the n+1 magazine that should be cynical and tiresome but proves stimulating and rejuvenatory. Sometimes, it is a wonder how well people can write, with such clarity of expression, such exacting choice of words. Lastly, a small mention of the work of someone whose work wasn’t released this year (his final completed book came out at the end of last year, just before his death at the start of this one) but certainly defined it, Mark Fisher, whose two books for Verso, Capitalist Realism and Ghosts Of My Life, were probably the best things I read all year, and probably also texts I will repeatedly return to and draw from.

As I like to do each year, some personal bullets for 2017. Things that happened that were good, bad or neither. On reflection, this year looks pretty good.

Visited Rotterdam, Copenhagen, Birmingham, Stockholm, Sheffield, Madrid, Locarno, Bristol and Amsterdam, visiting film festivals for all but two of those trips. (I’d like to go places without seeing movies in 2018.)

Wrote 35 things: 27 festival reports and features, 5 interviews, 2 reviews and 1 essay for a festival booklet (!), getting my work into 9 new places and strengthening my relationship with my primary outlet. Asked to write a couple of things. Was selected for the Locarno Critics Academy, something I’ve applied to for 3 years and always wanted to be a part of.

Made a film with a friend on Super8, which, completely absurdly, given what it was and why it was made (a bad film planned as a joke, shot in a single take, with a camera we didn’t know was working, let alone how to use) screened in Picturehouse 1. Friends came, had a blast.

Programmed a series of short films for a festival I’m very fond of. Pre-selected for another. Started a #brand to cover programming projects, then struggled to get any further ideas off the ground. (2018 tho...)

Abandoned (paused?) a few #projects, to save space for the primary ones. Posted too many tweets, and not a single tumblr. Made a couple of zines. Made no video diaries, scrapbooked rarely, newslettered less frequently, took almost no photos. All told, there is very little time.

Read 25 books, watched around 375 films of varying lengths (many shorts), listened to music almost every waking hour. (Need a MUJI mist diffuser that plays ambient music for sleeping in 2018.)

Got a bit of my confidence back, which has only taken (5?!) years after a few hits. Calmed down quite a bit, after a bit too strenuous previous year (2016) and a rocky start to this one (2017). Learned the limits a little better. Friends did all of this, not me.

Didn’t do any exercise, eat very well or take all that much care of myself.

Was mostly a good friend, I think. Neglected some long standing relationships, perhaps, but not at all beyond repair. Met quite a few new folk, got on well with people. Said things, made jokes, listened.

Got a new job. So This Is The New Year (2018).

It’s art and it’s life, and it’s life and it’s art, and I don’t know what I’m doing, or if all this is worth doing, or why I’m so obsessed with doing it all to the degree that I keep doing it, but I can’t help myself, and I’m often pulled and compelled, and then I can’t remember where I began and where this new thing ends or this old one begins, and much of it seems often to be a good thing to do, so I’m going to continue. Love animals. Make art if you like, absorb it where you can. Cherish good things. Champion that which isn’t praised enough. Support others and try to avoid competition. Understand the world wasn’t made for you.

GAMES

Night in the Woods (PS4)

Far From Noise (Steam)

What Remains of Edith Finch (PS4)

BOOKS

Durga Chew-Bose: Too Much And Not The Mood (Farrar, Straus & Giroux)

Mark Greif: Against Everything (Verso)

Jenny Zhang: Sour Heart (Bloomsbury Circus)

COMICS

Anna Haifisch: The Artist (Breakdown Press)

Jillian Tamaki: Boundless (Drawn and Quarterly)

Tillie Walden: Spinning (SelfMadeHero)

ART

Laura Oldfield Ford & Jack Latham: ALPHA/ISIS/EDEN (The Showroom)

Richard Mosse: Incoming (Barbican Curve)

Wolfgang Tillmans: 2017 (Tate Modern)

OBJECTS

Sock Dart Triple Black (Nike)

Vinyl Cover Monthly Weekly Diary B6 Dark Grey, Dark Grey (MUJI)

All Butter Croissant + Banana Combo (Sainsburys)

2017: MUSIC

Small notes to contextualise a year’s listening. I sit here and read this Resident Advisor review of the year and learn lots and think about what I’ve been listening to, at or near, and what it means to me, if anything, and why. But mostly, I just list it. To share for anyone interested, but mainly just for me to look back, at where I was at, and where I was posturing or pivoting to be. It’s all personal, yet it’s all performative, too. I wasn’t so focused this year on album length listening experiences, as my writing is soundtracked by ambient conversation and whatever the cafe’s staff choose to play, and during work and on the way to it, i’ve listened almost entirely to radio or odd mixes. I’ve heard lots of great music, but rarely known what it is called. I’ve listened to every mix that appears on Blowing Up The Workshop, a series organised by a chap called Matthew Kent that I genuinely believe is responsible for making me appreciate music in the way I have come to. Particularly great work has been heard in: Maya Kelev’s ambient show Emotional Landscapes, which has opened my eyes and calmed my nerves throughout the year, and Mumdance’s Radio Mumdance series, which over 40 shows this year with every kind of guest under the sun (Prurient, BenUFO, Kuedo, Billy Bunter etc), has repeatedly shot my nerves and rewired my brain. Cool music only.

Unlike last year though, it’s not additionally an issue of access. Ap*le M*sic means I have almost everything I want, with other oddities easily grabbable on Bandcamp for a small sum. With this, favourites this year are those most listened to. Most rotated is the new Mount Eerie album, A Crow Looked At Me, recorded after the death of his wife and as painful to hear as that suggests, yet incredible regardless, simple, direct and often cuttingly crystal clear. Second most spun (clicked?) and overall favourite was Ryuichi Sakamoto’s async, a inventive, considered and profound album from a resolute master that sounds great on first play and grows incrementally with each listen. Arca’s self-titled album warrants mention for doing something I really respect, successfully upending expectation of the music an artist should make, without deviating entirely from what is expected from their sound. It’s hard enough to keep making great music, it’s harder still to take the risk of sacrificing a productive formula in order to create something new. This third album by Arca is the first (I believe) to feature the artist’s own vocals and the act of introducing this (moving away from just producing, and introducing a unpredictable, fallible human element) produces something open hearted and vulnerable, but still fairly wild. Fourth pick is not strictly a new album, Shinichi Atobe’s incredibly titled From the Heart, It’s A Start, a Work of Art, a hashing together of rare or unreleased (?) old tracks with some new ones from this producer whose work is having a resurgence. Butterfly Effect from the album of the same title put out a few years ago might be my favourite song ever made, and Regret off this one produces some of the same sensations. Hazy, ethereal, quiet-soft electronic music, for the bedroom, bath and dancefloor, click snap fuzz fit for all occasions. Visible Cloaks’ Reassemblage is something old and new, too, lifting techniques and freely wearing influences from all of the sorts of older music I’ve been delving into with increasing frequency (Japanese ambient, New Age and all of that fourth world type stuff) and adding something newer and swisher, with little twists. See too, The Fairlights, Mallets and Bamboo mix series.

In terms of release things that weren’t quite album length or didn’t fit into the below somehow or other, this year I enjoyed: Yaeji’s two EPs, Finn’s Sometimes The Going Gets A Little Tough, Dean Blunt & Joanna Robertson’s Walhalla, Carla Del Forno’s The Garden, Benoit Pioulard’s Slow Spark, Soft Spoke, Kara-Lis Coverdale’s Grafts, Tzusing’s In A Moment A Thousand Hits, Machine Woman’s When Lobster Comes Home, Objekt’s Objekt #4, Minor Science’s Whities 012, Lanark Artefax’s Whities 011 and Beatrice Dillon & Call Super’s Inkjet / Fluo. Also, a small fanfare for Metaphors: Selected Soundworks from the Cinema of Apichatpong Weerasethakul, which doesn’t really fit anywhere, but is delicate and pure. In terms of rereleases / compilation type things, I’m without my record player at the moment, so I wasn’t really keeping up, but the Hyperdub Japanese videogame music compilation Diggin’ In The Carts was neat, Pierre Mariétan’s Rose Des Vents. Action Musicale was a source of fascination, and Hiroshi Yoshimura’s Music For Nine Postcards and Midori Takada’s Through the Looking Glass found a lot of plays, particularly out loud to a small audience whilst at work. Ambient 1: Music for Open Plan Offices.

My favourite live show, as mentioned elsewhere I think, was Midori Takada at Cafe OTO. A feverish atmosphere for a truly special event, with absolute silence throughout and valiant, whooping applause at the end. An amazing performance, from a tiny triangle entrance, xylophone dances, strange poetry and a massive multi-drum finale. In the same venue, small sets from Sarah Davachi & John Chantler, Klara Lewis, and Felicia Atkinson at various parts through the year. Davachi’s performance a particular highlight, developing drones and a command of the room. An odd show with Joanne Robertson as the top bill, and Mica Levi crooning ballads with a big, sludgy guitar. Corny as it is, I really love this place, and will be in pieces if it’s ever forced to close. Elsewhere, Grouper at the Kilburn Tabernacle, a strange venue (a church, ship shaped and made of tin) befitting the quiet, careful performance. Much better than the St.John’s show the year before, and another reminder that smaller performances are always better. Much larger, Huerco S. in a support slot for GAS at the Barbican, and so much louder, better and more impressive than that main act. A Joyce Manor show with a room of teenagers at the Scala, the first in a while from American Football (my favourite band/album) at 02 Shepherds Bush, and Cap’n Jazz’s last ever, at Electric Ballroom, the same place I saw Texas is the Reason play their last ever, to a room of crying ageing fathers. Midwest Emo forever.

Shortlist 25

Actress - AZD

Arca - Arca

Bell Witch - Mirror Reaper

Bjork - Utopia

Bill Orcutt - Bill Orcutt

Call Super - Arpo

Chino Amobi - Paradiso

Colleen - A flame my love, a frequency

DJ Python - Dulce Compania

Ellen Arkbro - For Organ and Brass

J Lin - Black Origami

Kelly Lee Owens - Kelly Lee Owens

Laurel Halo - Dust

Midwife - Like Author, Like Daughter

Mount Eerie - A Crow Looked At Me

Mr Mitch - Devout

Nabihal Iqbal - Weighing of the Heart

Pan Daijing - Lack

Prurient - Rainbow Mirror / Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement - Ambient Black Magic

Rafael Anton Insarri - The Shameless Years / Leandro Fresco & Rafael Anton Irisarri – La Equidistancia

Ryuichi Sakamoto - async

Sarah Davachi - All My Circles Run

Shinichi Atobe - From the Heart, It’s a Start, a Work of Art

Visible Cloaks - Reassemblage

Yamaneko - Spa Commissions

Longlist 25

21 Savage, Offset & Metro Boomin’ - Without Warning

Benedict Drew - Crawling Through Tory Slime

Big Thief - Capacity

Caterina Barberieri - Patterns of Consciousness

Cavernlight - As We Cup Our Hands and Drink from the Stream of Our Ache

Charli XCX - Number 1 Angel / Pop 2

Converge - The Dusk in Us

Couch Slut - Contempt

Davy Kehoe - Short Passing Game

Felicia Atkinson - Hand in Hand

Future - HNDRXX / FUTURE

High Aura’d - No River Long Enough Doesn’t Contain A Bend

Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith - The Kid

Karen Gwyer - Rembo

Kassel Jaeger & Jim O’Rourke - Wakes on Cerulean

Kelela - Take Me Apart

Khotin - New Tab

King Krule - The Ooz

Lee Yi - An Instant For a Momentary Desolation

Marcus Fischer - Loss / Taylor Deupree & Marcus Fischer – Lowlands

MIKE - MAY GOD BLESS YOUR HUSTLE

Nídia Minaj - Nídia É Má, Nídia É Fudida

The Caretaker - Everywhere At The End Of Time (Parts 2 & 3)

Tomoko Sauvage - Musique Hydromantique

Tsuzing - 方不敗

2017: FILM

Same as every year, spare me this indulgence (alongside the countless others I am granted.) A rundown of my year in filmgoing (and this year, again spare me please, some of my adventures in film writing too), in unnecessary detail and at gratuitous length. For my records, and for my validation, because sometimes it feels okay to see this pursuit (and increasingly, career) as something more worthwhile, to see all the dark nights and lost hours as valid and fair.

With Beth at a session led by Jemma Desai at the [LSFF] as part of her I Am Dora project, connecting films about London from the 80s and 90s with contemporary immigrant experiences of the city. Interesting films - specifically Mark Leckey’s rave-nostalgia archive ode Fiorucci Made Me Hardcore, which proved kind of revelatory - and even more interesting conversation, with a panel of non-film individuals talking loosely on issues relating to the films played and the evening’s decided themes, and in a personal, spirited introduction from Jemma, addressed to the audience, to herself and to her baby.

Searching for odd documentaries and experimental short films at [IFFR]. Seeing Simon Liu’s Highview - a film I quickly became obsessed with - in the form of an overlapping three projector performance at the end of a special programme of films on film, titled Panta Rhei. Celluloid traces dancing through a hyper coloured fractal splatter garden of memory, place and placelessness, and familial love sent and absorbed. Witnessing a bizarre, spontaneous performance involving distorted sound from scratchings of filmreels ran through multiple projectors across a crowded room. The artist, Lee Hangjun, running madly through the crowds, a noise magician extracting scratch screams from endless trails of film stock. Someone shouting: “isn’t celluloid flammable?! He’s a maniac! A maniac!!” Peter heading off to bed.

Interviewing Salome Lamas after spending too much time with her film Eldorado XXI, when it played at [Frames of Representation], and writing an essay for the festival booklet, which sat adjacent to one written by Andrea Picard. Insane. Susana chatting to her in Portuguese, me saying nothing and looking very English. Deep diving into Jorge Thielen Armand’s La Soledad and the building at the film’s centre (with set photos from the director, cool!). Babette Mangolte at the [Essay Film Festival]. A quite magnificent rarity in The Sky On Location. Her falling dramatically backwards off her chair at the ICA and the auditorium gasping, holding in breath, and then exhaling with relief as she got up and laughed at what had happened. A programme of mid-length artists film titled ‘artists on celluloid’ at [Doc/Fest], which included Luke Fowler’s Electro-Pythagorus, one of the year’s great surprises. Other things, feelings and experiences there, head in a rush. Large crew in tow. [Open City Documentary Festival]. Presenting my first programme as a bringer-together-of-things under a newly inked brand (LOST FUTURES) at the end of a manic week. Short watching, speech writing, zine making, event hosting. Collapse.

Relaxing times at [CPH:DOX]. Properly attending a festival with friends (MIchael, Chloe, Jess) for the first time - rather than as a nervy solo ~delegate~, attempting (and occasionally succeeding) to make new pals and chastising myself when depleted or unable - and having a well time without all that pressure and promise. Visiting during the wrong days, and missing mostly everything, but seeing Chou Zhen’s Life Imitation and a few other delicacies. Milkshakes on Monday. Rain soaked McDonalds on the last day. Hot dogs in a hurry, wine and leisurely beef tartar. Back at it again (with Chloe, Duncan, Ollie, Simran, Catherine etc.) for [IDFA]. Crossing the water to see the Apichatpong Weerasethakul show at Eye. Relaxing to Xiao Xiao’s Turtle Rock, a world away from Amsterdam and any of the other documentaries there. An 11pm show of Caniba. An excited audience, quickly revulsed.

The critics academy at [Locarno]. Seeing Valerie Massadian’s Milla, hyped before but met with a weirdly muted response at the festival. Speaking with her, nervously, in a little courtyard. Seeing her run over to me at the festival’s closing party, a kiss on both cheeks, like a French aunt. A treasure. Prototype world premiere. Good Time on the biggest screen I’ve ever seen, outside in the courtyard, beers down, sleep deprived, heat struck and stir crazy. The sense of fervour after Nelson Carlo de Los Santos Arias’s Cocote, an eventual prize-winner, with folks on the bus heading to the strange golf resort party after, chatting excitedly about it. Dipping ankles in the lake later. A hill climb, church atop a mountain, and a proper swim. IRL Beach Rats. Masterclasses with Wang Bing and Miguel Gomes. Sitting on the floor for a late night show of Good Luck, 6 other people spread in a 800 seat auditorium. Mark Peranson‘s State of the Nation address. Jaime and I, rainsoaked and lovesick, interviewing Golshifteh Farahani in place we looked entirely out of sorts in. Ordet for the first time, alongside Christopher at a tribute screening for Hans Hurch. An incredible film and a consuming, transformative experience. “Dreyer very nearly made me a believer.” 13 days in Switzerland and flicker trickling memory swamps, pools to draw from in times of need. Cinema rejuvenation.

Heading to [Flatpack] in Birmingham, specifically to see Matthew Barney’s Cremaster Cycle in its entirety. Seven hours of what the artist described as a “self-enclosed aesthetic system”. Not really enjoying it, but having a good time writing the about the experience regardless. Polish shorts, then Late Lounge at Bristol’s [Encounters] with Nosa. Stomach churners, eyebrow raisers and blood soakers until the sun goes down. A calming dip into the [London Film Festival], to catch some of the year’s bigger films. Brief pleasant exchanges with an increasingly tired Matt, and an always bouncy Hind. Wowed by Western, Awestruck by Zama, Brought repeatedly to tears by 120 BPM. Toshio Matsumoto’s alt-canon classic Funeral Parade of Roses with an old Japanese man who was a friend of the cast and who’d travelled all the way from Tokyo to London for this new restoration.

Song to Song upstairs at the PCC, with a confused, borderline hostile audience in some midweek death slot. On The Beach Alone At Night from a screener with George, leaked before the film’s Berlinale premiere. Piracy that actually felt weird and wrong. With Simran, Chloe, Edwin and Ben at the Tate’s phenomenal Kevin Jerome Everson weekend, titled So I Can Get Them Told. Countless revelatory works, notably Erie, with the girl with the candlestick, and new ones IFO and Round Seven, but also the one minute wonder Polly One, about a grandmother and the solar eclipse. Humility, insight and dad jokes from Everson. Sunny. Rain. Quality time with the bagmen throughout the BFI’s Women in Japanese Melodrama retrospective. Popping colours on prints of Yasuzo Masumura’s The Blue Sky Maiden and Noboru Nakamura’s The Shape of Night. Losing myself entirely in the pulsating blues of Takashi Makino’s 2012 at the one Edge of Frame event I made it to. Small flickers over an image dense year. Shimmering objects.

Lastly, two screenings of short films, amazing work from towering figures in avant-garde filmmaking, two filmmakers whose films can be very difficult to see. First, two sessions dedicated to Peter Hutton, held one year on from his death at Close-Up Cinema in London, for which someone travelled in. Visiting host and curator, Ed Halter, friend of Mr. Hutton, who flew in from New York and spoke eloquently after two programmes of the filmmaker's stunning landscape films. Unable to speak for Hutton, naturally, he instead speak well around him, offering fascinating insight and a poignant tribute. Second, a screening for which I travelled out. 8 films by Nathaniel Dorsky, played to an audience of 4 (Christoper, me, a Swedish woman and her daughter) in Light Cone's small screening room, a magical venue befitting a majestic series of wondrous films, projected dutifully by a quiet gentleman with a long wispy beard and a gnarly black metal t-shirt. At these screenings, I saw Hutton's In Titan's Goblet and Dorsky's Song and Solitude, new all time favourites, amongst countless other precious gems. This year, I am thankful for the dedicated benefactors who are able to make these things happen, and allow this sort of rare work to be screened in the way its makers intended for it to be seen: in small rooms, to an enraptured audience of rabid nerds, projector whirring audibly, dust dancing in the beam of light splitting the darkness down the middle. Their money has to go somewhere, and, selfish at it may be, I'm happy for it to go into the cinema.

Below, twenty films for twenty seventeen.