Date: 1 November 2003 | Season: London Film Festival 2003 | Tags:

Saturday 1 November 2003, at 7pm
London National Film Theatre NFT3

Rebecca Meyers, Glow in the Dark (January-June), USA, 2002, 6 min
A somnambulant chronicle of night-time luminosity, and the sounds that keep us awake in the lonely twilight.

Goh Harada, Lampenschwarz, Japan-Germany, 2001, 12 min
Tactile, imageless film created using clear film and black pigment, which has been manually rubbed into a layer of transparent silicone. In projection, it becomes a rapid and infinitely complex hypnagogic vision.

Fred Worden, If Only, USA, 2003, 7 min
Points of light burst through the darkness in a surge of abstract motion. Luminous stimulation for the subconscious.

Ichiro Sueoka, I am Lost to the World, Japan, 2003, 7 min
Re-appropriation of anonymous footage shot in Kyoto 1934; its fractured images ravaged by chemical and physical decay. ‘Film is not an immortal document; it is a vanishing existence.’

Thomas Draschan, Encounter in Space, Austria-Germany, 2003, 7 min
Science, the space race and more earthy pursuits: formal and narrative strategies applied to found footage to create a supernatural adventure.

James Otis, Common Knowledge, USA, 2002, 2 min
‘Upbeat, fast-paced, crowd-pleasing investigation of marketing and the original sin, based on a South African apple juice commercial. The sound track is an obsessively synchronised, mad marimba version of the old mission hymn, ‘From Greenland’s Icy Mountains’.’

Sandra Gibson, Outline, USA, 2003, 6 min
Direct cinema barrage of light and colour, in cinemascopic glory.

Louise Bourque, Jours en Fleurs, Canada, 2003, 5 min
A symphony of nature told in a shower of golden colours that reveal a microcosm of cellular structures. Film emulsion transfigured by incubation in menstrual blood.

Trish Van Huesen, Resurrection, USA, 2002, 3 min
The emergence of consciousness as beatific reawakening. A whiff of the ‘The Passion of Carl Th. Dreyer’ somehow embodied within a hand processed, scratched, painted and bleached Super-8 blow-up. Music by cyclic Icelandic wonderkind Eyvind Kang.

Lewis Klahr, Daylight Moon, USA, 2002, 14 min
Using collage animation, Klahr conjures up an evocative, hermetic world. The sense of quiet melancholy suggests a loss of innocence, both personal and collective, which is pictorially represented by the 1950s consumer boom.