<\/p>\n
PETER TSCHERKASSKY. FROM SUPER-8 TO SCOPE.
\n<\/strong> Sunday 1 June 2003, at 8pm
\nLondon Film School<\/p>\nTABULA RASA
\nPeter Tscherkassky, 1987\/89, 16mm, colour, sound, 17 min
\n<\/strong>A mediated disruption of voyeuristic desire.
\n\u201cThe target of tabula rasa<\/em> is the heart of cinema. Voyeuristic desire as the precondition for all cinema pleasure is at stake here. What Christian Metz (based on the psychoanalytical theory of Jacques Lacan) has established in theory is rendered as film in tabula rasa<\/em>. At the beginning we can recognise only shadows from which the picture of a woman undressing herself hesitantly emerges. But exactly at the point when one believes one can make out what it is, the camera itself is located between our gaze and the object. The body of the woman keeps moving back and forth between revealing (as a picture) and covering, swinging from figurative to the abstract. tabula rasa<\/em> takes distance, the fundamental principle of voyeurism, literally, as it shows us the object of desire but continually removes it from our view.\u201d \u2014Gabriele Jutz<\/p>\nPARALLEL SPACE: INTER-VIEW
\nPeter Tscherkassky, 1992, 16mm, b\/w, sound, 18 min
\n<\/strong>The \u2018physics of seeing\u2019 and the \u2018physics of memory\u2019 in a flickering condensation of space and time.
\n\u201cParallel Space: Inter-View<\/em> is made with a photo camera. A miniature photo 24 x 36mm is exactly the size of two film frames. Originally, I had a strict, formal concept. The visual space of the Renaissance locked in the optics of the film and still camera. In front of our eyes the landscapes of the film spread out and allow themselves be conquered; a constellation which is then subverted by letting the hardware and the software slip minimally. If I take a photograph with a strict central perspective (the vanishing point in the middle), it gets smashed when projected. The spatial lines plunge towards the lower edge of one frame, to be ripped apart at the top of the next. Optically it resembles a flickering double exposure; the former temporal and spatial unity disintegrates into pieces that have a correspondence with each other. Soon these spatial constructions were not enough. I began to interpret the content of both spatial halves \u2013 to lead the spectator\u2019s separation from the surrounding reality into another sequence of binary opposites: listener-speaker; viewer-viewed; public-private; man-woman; sensuality (emotion)-reason; sexuality-taboo, and so on. In addition, I took the psychoanalytic setting and drew a comparison with the cinema setting. In both cases there is a narrator who does not see or know his listener. Filmmakers, in common with the analysists, produce a very intimate flow of pictures which are met with highly concentrated attention but still fall into the anonymity of the audience…\u201d \u2014Peter Tscherkassky<\/p>\nL\u2019ARRIV\u00c9E
\nPeter Tscherkassky, 1998, 35mm CinemaScope, b\/w, sound, 2 min
\n<\/strong>\u201cL\u2019Arriv\u00e9e<\/em> is my second homage to the Lumi\u00e8re Brothers. First you see the arrival of the film itself, which shows the arrival of a train at a station. But that train collides with a second train, causing a violent crash, which leads to an unexpected third arrival: the arrival of a beautiful woman \u2013 the happy ending. Reduced to two minutes L\u2019Arriv\u00e9e<\/em> gives a brief but exact summary of what cinematography (after its arrival with the Lumi\u00e8re train) has made into an enduring presence of our visual environment: violence, emotions. Or, as an anonymous American housewife (cited by T.W. Adorno) used to describe Hollywood\u2019s version of life: \u201cGetting into trouble and out of it again.\u201d \u2014Peter Tscherkassky<\/p>\nOUTER SPACE
\nPeter Tscherkassky, 1999, 35mm CinemaScope, b\/w, sound, 10 min
\n<\/strong>\u201cOuter Space<\/em> begins over the sound of a film projector. The image \u2013 luminously grainy, scratched black and white \u2013 is canted, off-centre, as though projected onto a wall from a worn-out print. A woman approached a house, hesitates, and reaches for the doorknob. As she walks through rooms, the visuals gradually degrade \u2013 the frame films with multiple exposures, and at times the images look as though they\u2019ve been selectively exposed, certain areas of the frame burned with light, others obscured. With an electrical buzzing, the physical space surrounding the woman starts to break up: windows and mirrors shatter, images bleed into each other and disintegrate, until finally all that remains legible are sprocket holes and the optical track: the celluloid itself.\u201d \u2014Alice Lovejoy, 2002<\/p>\nDREAM WORK
\nPeter Tscherkassky, 2001, 35mm CinemaScope, b\/w, sound, 12 min
\n<\/strong>\u201cThe images, the afterimages, the negatives circle each other in a maelstrom in which the classic psychoanalytic view of the conscious mind\u2019s unconscious function is gradually lost in a higher logic of neuronal chaos. And then, guided by Man Ray\u2019s rayograph technique, they reassemble in a para-dream which \u2013 paraphrasing Freud \u2013 could be described as a pictorial mental image. In the same way as in an actual dream, Dream Work <\/em>does not contain individual and unconnected images; although each one is radically arbitrary, the context is so compelling that an alternative is inconceivable \u2013 unless taken from a different universe, of course. But this is the best of all possible worlds, regardless of how terrifying it seems.\u201d \u2014Bert Rebhandl<\/p>\nHAPPY END
\nPeter Tscherkassky, 1996, 35mm, colour, sound, 11 min
\n<\/strong>Reworking home movies from decades passed, revealing a celebration of private ritual, tradition and joy.
\n\u201cHappy-End<\/em> is a found footage film: the re-working of someone else\u2019s home movies from the 60s and 70s. The sequences selected are taken from many hours of the staged private life of \u2018Rudolf\u201d and \u2018Elfriede\u2019, pivoting on demonstrative celebrations, alcohol and cake consumption together. Who watched these two before Peter Tscherkassky\u2019s (and then our) gaze fell on their gaiety? Who stood behind the camera? I think that the theory that they themselves are responsible (in expectancy of their own spectatorship \u2013 look, it was so wonderful there) misses the mark. Neither is it a hidden camera, since Rudolf and Elfriede turn to it laughing, gesticulating and with glass in hand. It must be their child, a child who never enters the picture himself, except in the form of a symbolic doll and recurring mirrors which evidence his doings. I think that Rudolf and Elfriede fell in love in the summer of 1952 as Annie Cordy\u2019s hit could be heard from every speaker \u2013 \u201cBonbons, Caramels, Esquimaux, Chocolats\u201d. In 1958 their son was born, shortly after a first movie camera was bought. At the beginning of the 70s the son took over the direction of the annual celebration films. He also captured on film the sexual joy that hovers lightly between the sparkling wine and the Sachertorte. Twenty years later the child, by now a grown man, sees these rediscovered films again.\u201d \u2014Alexander Horwath<\/p>\nBack to top<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
PETER TSCHERKASSKY. FROM SUPER-8 TO SCOPE. Sunday 1 June 2003, at 8pm London Film School Peter Tscherkassky will introduce a selection of his film work, explaining the methods and theories behind his process driven filmmaking. Peter Tscherkassky, tabula rasa, 1987\/89, 17 min Peter Tscherkassky, Parallel Space: Inter-View, 1992, 18 min Peter Tscherkassky, L\u2019Arriv\u00e9e, 1998, 2 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[121],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3733","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-essential-frame"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/markwebber.org.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3733","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/markwebber.org.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/markwebber.org.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/markwebber.org.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/markwebber.org.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3733"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/markwebber.org.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3733\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/markwebber.org.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3733"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/markwebber.org.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3733"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/markwebber.org.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3733"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}