Temporality: Essay by Georgs Avetisjans, 2016
Descrição do Produto
University of Brighton
Temporality How can we think the difference between the way in which the still and the moving image represent ideas about time? Does it still make sense to distinguish between the two? Georgs Avetisjans
MA Photography 2016
Georgs Avetisjans (2016), University of Brighton
Temporality
Photography and cinematography are technologies that seem to tell us something important about time. Not just simply representations of time, but also various ways of producing ideas about it: the folding of time, concepts of memory and history that these images represent. How do we, as human beings, actually experience and understand this notion? What are the similarities and what are the differences between the still and moving image? How do other theorists, photographers and filmmakers support the idea of time, flow of time, memory and its representation in these two mediums? This essay aims to explore these questions. Firstly, it looks at photography and its relation to time. Secondly, it considers similarities and differences between the still and moving image and the way in which they represent ideas about time. Thirdly, it explores this question from various key theorists, photographers and filmmakers. And finally, this essay looks at work what represents these ideas. To begin with, the still image is indirectly connected to the temporal flow of the moving image, in other words, as Green (2006) suggests, photography and film have always been seen as closely intertwined and this intertwining has also proved to be the spur to differentiate between them (Green, 2006, 5). The historical relationship of these two media is always concerned and we must realize that things progressed very quickly after photography was invented in 1826, and cinema in 1895 (David, 1989, 144). Rim (1930) mentioned the day photography was born humanity won a precious victory over time, its most redoubtable enemy (Rim, 1930, 40). The nature of the relationship between the still and the moving image has been described in very different ways. In the 1920s, which are the high point of the relations between photography and cinema, David (1989) has pointed out how photographic artists produce films and vice versa, and how they have common stakes: “photography and cinema are assimilated on the level of ambitions, namely the desire to make art for the masses, which is directly accessible, and to have an artform which maintains a privileged relationship to the real (David, 1989, 145). Whereas, Newhall (1937) represents the opposite idea in which aesthetically, the moving picture and the still photograph are so independent that they cannot be compared. A fascinating and powerful ideology underlies the moving picture; this ideology is based on the fact that the moving picture has precisely that dimension which the still cannot have – time. The moving picture creates its own time; the still photograph stops time and holds it for us (Newhall, 1937, 105). Both, photography and cinematography are very important discoveries in our history not only regarding of time, flow of time or ability to capture the flow of life, but also because they satisfy, once and for all and in its very essence, our obsession with realism and freed the plastic arts from their obsession with likeness (Bazin, 1960, 7). To understand their relationship, differentiation and their development throughout the last century I looked at various ideas from different authors. Besides André Bazin, as one of the key writers about temporality, I will also consider the work of Roland Barthes who introduced and expanded his approach from his own experience into philosophical and ontological perspective. Both of these writers begin their analysis of the image with a consideration of ideas about death. When Barthes, after his mother’s death, was searching for her truth, but not only her identity, he finally found the Winter
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Garden Photograph, revealed in his book ‘Camera Lucida’ (Barthes, 1981, 71). He discovered this photograph by moving back through Time. The Greeks entered into Death backward: what they had before them was their past. In the same way Barthes worked back through a life, not his own, but the life of someone he loved. He started from her latest image, taken the summer before her death, he arrived, traversing three-‐ quarters of a century, at the image of a child (Barthes, 1981, 71). In this regard we have to look even more into the history of mankind where Bazin (1960) in his work ‘The Ontology of the Photographic Image’ suggests that the practice of embalming the dead might turn out to be a fundamental factor in their creation. The process might reveal that at the origin of painting and sculpture there lies a mummy complex. The religion of ancient Egypt, aimed against death, saw survival as depending on the continued existence of the corporeal body. Thus, by providing a defense against the passage of time it satisfied a basic psychological need in man, for death is but the victory of time. To preserve, artificially, his bodily appearance is to snatch it from the flow of time (Bazin, 1960, 4). Barthes (1981) continues to expand his view, which is partly as a response to idea of Bazins’, that if we look at photography and its interaction with idea of time, where the presence of the thing (at certain past moment) is never metaphoric (Barthes, 1981, 78). By shifting this reality to the past (“this-‐has-‐been”), the photograph suggests that it is already dead (Barthes, 1981, 79). On the other hand, Bazin complements this idea that no one believes any longer in the ontological identity of model and image, but all are agreed that the image helps us to remember the subject and to preserve him from a second spiritual death. Today the making of images no longer shares an anthropocentric, utilitarian purpose. It is no longer a question of survival after death, but of a larger concept, the creation of an ideal world in the likeness of the real, with its own temporal destiny (Bazin, 1960, 6). In ‘Camera Lucida’ Barthes (1981) provides a point of departure in comparing the still and moving image where he establishes key attributes of the still photograph’s relation to time. Mulvey (2003) says that most particularly what Barthes suggests is that as the photographic image embalms a moment of time, it also embalms an image of life halted, which eventually, with the actual passing time, will become an image of life after death. Furthermore, Mulvey (2003) reminds us that he associates the photographic image with death and denies that this presence can appear in cinema. Not only does the cinema have no punctum, but it both loses and disguises its relation to the temporality characteristic of the still photograph because of its movement (Mulvey, 2003, 135). Acording to Barthes (1981, p. 78): In the photograph, something has posed in front of the tiny hole and has remained there forever; but in cinema, something has posed in front of this same tiny hole where the pose is swept away and denied by the continuous series of images: it is a different phenomenology, and therefore a different art which begins here, though derived from the first one. Meanwhile, Bellour (1984) paraphrases Barthes’ distinction between the photograph and the cinema: “on one side, there is movement, the present, presence; on the other, immobility, the past, a certain absence. On one side, the consent of illusion; on the other, a quest for hallucination. Here, a fleeting image, one that seizes us in its flight; there, a
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completely still image that cannot be fully grasped. On this side, time doubles life; on that, time returns to us brushed by death” (Bellour, 1984, 119). Seizing on Barthes’ notion, Green (2006) argues, that the photograph can never testify to the presence of the object but only to the fact of its once having been present (Green, 2006, 11). Both, Barthes (1981) and Bazin (1960) connect the still image to death, memory and melancholia and the moving image towards experience of being present. Afterwards, Green (2006) reveals and talks about Christian Metz’s (1974) idea, fundamentally greatest in terms of differentiation, where he advances the argument that film overcomes this limitation and presents us with an impression of reality which is so much more ‘vivid’: ‘The movie spectator is absorbed, not by a “has been there”, but by a sense of “there it is” (Green, 2006, 11). The findings from this study make several new contributions to the current literature. First, after we looked at Barthes’ (1981) and Bazins’ (1960) visions, I would like to continue and suggest two other authors. One previously, mentioned by Green (2006), the French film theorist Christian Metz and the second, the English film theorist and writer Peter Wollen. Both are discussing and rethinking great ideas of relationship between still and moving image with respect to flow of time and also the perception of time in terms of spectatorship. Metz’s (1985) essay ‘Photography and Fetish’, greatly supports Barthes’s (1981) introduction to this subject: “A film is only a series of photographs. This property is very often exploited by the narrative, the initially indexical power of the cinema turning frequently into a realist guarantee for the unreal. Photography, on the other hand, remains closer to the pure index, stubbornly pointing to the print of what was, but no longer is” (Metz, 1985, 82-‐83). Metz (1985) refers to Pierce’s example of lighting in the storm being the index and confirms that film and photography are close to each other -‐ both are prints of real objects, prints left on a special surface by a combination of light and chemical action (Metz, 1985, 82). To develop this idea and differentiation Metz (1974) argues that in all photographs, we have this same act of cutting off a piece of space and time, of keeping it unchanged while the world around continues to change, of making a compromise between conservation and death (Metz, 1985, 85). He already has supported and established his main idea in his earlier work where the photograph can only offer a trace of what has been, whereas the film can only be ‘the trace of a past motion’, nonetheless ‘the spectator always sees movement as being present’ (Metz, 1974, 8). The latter is one of his key concepts of differentiation between two mediums. On the other hand, Mulvey (2003) pointed out another supportive thought from Metz similar to Barthes where he mentioned immobility and silence of the still photograph, with its connotation of death where it disappears in the moving image. To repeat: narrative asserts its own temporality (Mulvey, 2003, 137). Singer (1988) in his analyses of Christian Metz (1985) ‘Film, Photography, and Fetish’ dragged our attention to the crux of these passages where the photograph distances spectators, whereas the cinema engages them in an illusion. The photograph, in this formulation, does not induce a belief-‐in-‐presence of the sort evoked by film. Photography refuses to let us “deny the signifier” and “enter into the picture” (Singer, 1988, 17). Whilst for Metz – as for Kracauer and Bazin – Green (2006) adds that cinema is technologically and aesthetically dependent upon photography, ultimately it is seen as ontologically quite distinct. The differences between the two mediums appear as
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stark and absolute: on the one hand we have movement that not only is present but also lends to the images a ‘presence’ that is associated with life, and, on the other hand, we have a moment frozen in time and an immobility that is lodged within an ever-‐receding past that can only testify to an absence that carries with it the spectre of death (Green, 2006, 11). To support his argument and understand more in depth, Metz (1985) developed another explanation where he draws the reader’s attention to the photograph being emerged and having a third character in common with death: the snapshot, like death, is an instantaneous abduction of the object out of the world into another world, into another kind of time – unlike cinema which replaces the object, after the act of appropriation, in an unfolding time similar to that of life. The photographic take is immediate and definitive, like death -‐ fixed by a glance in childhood, unchanged and always active later. Photography is a cut inside the referent: it cuts off a piece of it, a fragment, a part object, for a long immobile travel of no return. Metz (1985) also referred to Dubois (1983), who remarked that with each photograph, a tiny piece of time brutally and forever escapes its ordinary fate, and thus is protected against its own loss (Metz, 1985, 84). To support Metz’s (1985) approach in this fundamental field it is important to conclude his arguments with the film and its ability to call up our belief for long and complex dispositions of actions and characters (in narrative cinema) or of images and sounds (in experimental cinema), to disseminate belief; whereas photography is able to fix it, to concentrate it, to spend it all at the same time on a single object (Metz, 1985, 88). In other words, Singer (1988) adds, Metz (1985) is right in arguing that cinematic pleasure draws on a tension or interplay between “the force of presence” and the actual absence of real objects (Singer, 1988, 10). My previous arguments have considered the central theme of the essay question posed at the beginning and now it is more possible to explore the key argument, proposed in the work ‘Fire and Ice’ by Wollen (1984) where he proposes: “Photographs appeared as devices for stopping time and preserving fragments of the past, like flies in amber. Nowhere, of course, is this trend more evident than when still photography is compared with film.” Taking the argument a stage further, Wollen (1984) begins from the main differentiation between both mediums: “The natural, familiar metaphor is that photography is like a point, film like a line. Zeno’s paradox: the illusion of movement” (Wollen, 1984, 108). He continues to extend and build his exploration into the further vision: “The fact that images may themselves appear as punctual, virtually without duration, does not mean that the situations that they represent lack any quality of duration or other qualities related to time” (Wollen, 1984, 109). From this argument it is possible to confirm that the still photograph relates to time in variety of different ways by expressing different types of narrative tenses. Also it depends on a viewer who observes the actual image, whereas the moving image has fixed duration and aims to present action as being present. One of the more significant findings to emerge from this study is that vision of Wollens’ (1984) that appeared while he was thinking about photography and film, prior to writing his essay, where he began to play with the idea that film is like fire, photography is like ice. Film is all light and shadow, incessant motion, transience, flickered. Photography is motionless and frozen and it has the cryogenic power to preserve objects through time without decay (Wollen, 1984, 110).
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In his personal perception and understanding of visual languages and temporality, Wollen (1984) shares his own fascination with pictorial narrative and reveals that is not a recalcitrant fascination, like that of Barthes. Unlike him, he is not always longing for a way of bringing the flow to a stop. It is more a fascination with the way in which the spectator is thrown in and out of the narrative, fixed and unfixed. Traditionally, this is explained in terms of identification, distanciation, and other dramatic devices. Perhaps it is also connected with aspect, a dimension of the semantics of time common to both the still and the moving picture and used in both to place the spectator within or without a narrative (Wollen, 1984, 113). According to Wollen (1984, p. 108): The moment captured in the image is of near-‐zero duration and located in an ever-‐ receding ‘then’. At the same time, the spectator’s ‘now’, the moment of looking at the image, has no fixed duration. It can be extended as long as fascination lasts and endlessly reiterated as long as curiosity returns. This contrasts sharply with film, where the sequence of images is presented to the spectator with a predetermined duration and, in general, is only available at a fixed programme time. The current findings add substantially to our understanding of still and moving image and their relationship and differences to time, but I do want to add one and last suggestion from Wollen (1984), before I continue to look at one of the most inspirational German film directors – Wim Wenders and his portrayal of the flow of life and time itself. Wollen (1984) emphasized that the relationship of photography to time is more complex than is usually allowed. Especially, it is impossible to extract our concept of time completely from the grasp of narrative. This is all the more true when we discuss photography as a form of art rather than as a scientific or instructional instrument (Wollen, 1984, 109). In this essay I have discussed contributions to existing knowledge of previously presented theorists and researchers and further I would like to focus on filmmaker and photographer Wim Wenders ideas. Thanks to his films, photographs and especially thoughts from an interview at the Kunstforeningen Gammel Strand (2014) that made me interested in the question of this essay and drove my attention towards the exploration of time, flow and even the importance of sequencing movie frames into the chronological order, and most importantly – the notion of valuing the flow of time. I also enjoyed Wenders’ way of looking at the seriousness of time in photography and its relation to it in comparison to cinematic image. Before I begin my discussion of one of his narrative films, I propose to present his ideas first, in terms of his own perception of the earlier discussed themes. First of all, he always thinks of each photograph as sort of a time capsule that is traveling in time and does not stay there. In a video interview with Wagner (2014) he reveals one of the most important key concepts: “Picture that was taken ten years ago and when I look at it ten years later it also tells me about ten years that happened since” (Wenders, 2014, 26:18 min.). Here we are reminded of Metz (1985) argument earlier, where he explained about photography’s immediate and definitive shape: “unchanged and always active later” (Metz, 1985, 84). Next, Wenders (2014) develops his statement: ”Photographs are very complex. Their relation to time is complex, their relation to mortality and changes are complex and their relation to the eye that saw them is extremely complex. They
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invite you to see more than any film could ever show” (Wenders, 2014, 26:18 min.). Similarly, as Wollen (1984) implies, photography’s relationship to time is a far more complex affair than is often granted (Green, 2006, 13). Wenders (2014) shared knowledge that photographs seem to be frozen in time, but they have incredible relation to their own past and their future. They tell you about time although they are just the slices of time. (Wenders, 2014, 25:35 min.) In the beginning of his career he started as a painter and later he initially regarded film and photography as a simple way of recording surroundings and the camera as an extension of his painting tools. What he discovered, however, was that the camera could depict something that paintings could not -‐ time. In the interview he talks about films and explains that every shot and every frame is like a painting or a brick in the building that on the end you had something that was sort of architecture in time (Wenders, 2014, 10:34 min.). David (1989) suggests that Wenders makes very photographic cinema. Even when he has a scenario, he greatly favours the accidental, that which is likely to happen in front of the camera, and he has a very contemplative relationship. He expects things to happen a bit like a photographer who waits to trap a privileged moment (David, 1989, 145). For example, in a video interview at the Museum of Modern Art (2015) Wenders (2015) revealed photographer Walker Evans as an inspiration for his first film in America. Called “Alice in the Cities” (1974) and shot by Robby Müller as a 1st part from the road movie trilogy what included “The Wrong Move” (1975) and “Kings of the Road” (1976). Later he mentioned that his inspiration wasn’t any other black and white films, but strictly photography. Framing wise and also aesthetically (Wenders, 2015, 04:14 min.). To continue to support David idea in terms of accidental in the movies same like in photography, Wenders (1971) himself supported some of his ideas in his essay that right at the beginning he thought making films meant setting the camera up somewhere, pointing it at some object, and then just letting it run (Wenders, 1971, 88). Even nowadays Wenders (2014) complements his argument: “I very much like the documentary approach to filmmaking that something, that you put up the camera and you started, and whatever happens on the front of it, happens once and it is almost miraculous that you can catch it and that you can view it again: the dog crosses the street, the clouds that move, and it is unique event, sort of in the strange way, almost holy, that you can do that and you shouldn’t interfere with it. For years I didn’t know how to say ‘cut’, because I felt it is not allowed to cut flow of time” (Wenders, 2014, 15:00 min.). Looking back, Wenders (1984) explores different possibilities and visions in the interview with Katherine Dieckmann for the “Film Quarterly” (1984-‐1985) and points out that he had always thought that films have been invented in the first place to witness the twentieth century. He has always been very attracted to documentaries, but has always thought that feature films are in a way the true documents of our time. Especially when they’re outrageous fantasies, like, let’s say, Hitchcock’s (1958) Vertigo. If somebody 500 years from now happened to find Vertigo, they’d have a pretty clear notion of what America looked like in 1958. This is a very important component of film-‐ making: even if a film is sheer fantasy – film is unique because no other form can do that – it’s also a document of the time it was made (Wenders, 1984-‐85, 6).
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Another argument to emphasize is his importance for films to be sequential. Anything that disturbs or breaks up these sequences annoys him. Films have got to respect theses sequences of action. The continuity of movement and action must be true, there must not be any jolt in the time being portrayed. He argues: ”you see a lot of cuts, especially in TV films, where they cut back and forth and you can just tell from his face that time has elapsed, time that you haven’t been shown.” Wenders disappointingly continue to develop his argument: “I hate that, and it makes me angry whenever I see it happening. It should keep faith with the passage of time. Films are congruent time -‐ sequences, not congruent ideas” (Wenders, 1971, 89-‐90). Even nowadays he still likes to shoot in chronological order although sometimes it is not possible: “I still like as much as possible to do it, because it respects time, as something needs to be respected. I think it is disrespectful to cut too fast or cut too often, because it is violating time” (Wenders, 2014, 16:56 min.). This overview has explained the central importance of Wenders idea of time being sequential in his films, complexity of photography’s relation to time -‐ how photography responds to our memory and how it tells about the time period what happened since. Similarly as Wollen (1984) had explained earlier that the moment captured in the image is of near-‐zero duration and located in an ever-‐receding ‘then’. At the same time, the spectator’s ‘now’, the moment of looking at the image, has no fixed duration. It can be extended as long as fascination lasts and endlessly reiterated as long as curiosity returns (Wollen, 1984, 108). Henceforth, I propose to begin the discussion of one of his films. In this regard, I suggest to look at his very first full-‐length feature film “Summer in the City” (1970) made together with Robby Müller. The movie was produced as his graduation project at the Academy of Film and Television in Munich. According to Wenders (1992), the title of the film relates to the song from the band The Lovin' Spoonful, which was also included in the film (Wenders, 1992, 123). Further, Wenders explains about the movie: ”It’s shot in 16 mm black and white in six days. It had a screenplay, more or less, so that when we see the film now we are pretty sure what parts of it we were responsible for, mostly the framing and the dialogue, and what was left to chance. The way the film turned out, there’s something almost private about it, the people who appeared in it were friends, it was all shot straight off, we only went for a second take when something went totally wrong (Wenders, 1971, 88). Consequently, the storyline is the journey of protagonist Hans Zischler (starring) after he is released from prison. For a viewer there is an intimate emotional experience. It creates the feeling of the flow of life and a sense of sequential chronology. Somehow, the film has its own quality where the time flows on its own pace with very few dialogues and erases the boundaries between photography and cinematography. This work uses photography qualities, mostly static exposures. It includes actual linear time (present) and allows viewers to experience his (Hans) ‘past’ time through his memory. It excludes still images as memory and rather uses the exposure of stories through various dialogues with friends and acquaintances and thus explores his character. It seems also that the film is directed towards the genre of road movie and shows his signature of further feature films (Summer in the City, 1970. [Film] Directed by Wim Wenders. Germany: Atlas Film).
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The story itself from Hans recent past develops very slowly at ease and forces spectators to use their own imagination, as they would when reading the book. The movie focuses on the present tense and makes us live through his journey as he is searching, remembering and wandering throughout West Germany. Apart from that, I sensed another connotation closely related to passage of time and its influence to his own memory while he was absent from the real world. For example, in Germany it kept changing whilst his closed environment in prison remained the same. In such a way he had to force himself to absorb information in a short time (Exposure 2) (see figure 1 for the different exposures). Despite the fact that things changed he was still longing of his own past and absorbed in memories. It appeared in the scenario where he is going together with his friend to see the movie “Alphaville” by Jean-‐Luc Godard (1965) (see figure 1, exposure 3). Hans asked him before the cinema that he would like to see an old black and white film and that he does not want to see a new film now (Summer in the City, 1970, 00:17:32). His statement greatly revealed the passage of time what he missed and his unwillingness to accept that. In figure 1, exposure 4 there is another dialogue as a representation of present tense “there it is” and the past tense of his memory “that has been” where Hans engaged with the taxi driver shortly after he got into the car: “I’ll give you 20 Marks if you drive me around…” Then he continued in his third voice addressed to viewer: ”I asked him if this is not the spot where the Auguster Cinema once stood.” Driver answered: “they just recently made a supermarket out of it. Even the Crystal and the Film Burg have closed down. The Film Burg is now a flea market.” The dialogue represented an actual time in story, programme time as a slice in viewer’s time and time elapsed in life of Hans. Whereas, figure 1, exposure 5 and 6 are visualizations of the flow of time what Wenders with Müller uses very often throughout the entire movie by using static exposures as photographs and letting time to flow in front of the camera. Later, figure 1, exposure 7 remotely represents his absence from the real world and time passage from “then” to “now” where he tells, while he is looking at vinyl plates: “I wouldn’t know any of these new records.” Further, he also started a long monologue about places in Germany that have disappeared (see figure 1, exposure 8). Movie aims to reveal this accidental flow of life, photographic qualities, memory, longing and focuses to underline the presence itself throughout entire work (see figure 1, exposure 9 – 14) In other words, Metz has demonstrated to me that in the cinema the impression of reality is also the reality of impression, the real presence of motion (Metz, 1974, 9). Figure 1 - exposures for Summer in the City (1970, 01:54 min.)
Exposure 1 (00:00:06) / Exposure 2 (00:14:44)
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Exposure 3 (00:17:45) / Exposure 4 (00:20:55)
Exposure 5 (00:29:18) / Exposure 6 (00:29:59)
Exposure 7 (00:36:04) / Exposure 8 (00:40:19)
Exposure 9 (01:48:02) / Exposure 10 (01:48:24)
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This essay has explained the central importance of temporality in the still and moving image and their relation to time and memory. To conclude this assignment and summarize all the answers to the essay question I connected some of the key ideas further. For example, photographer Gregory Crewdson (2006) in interview with Holtzman (2006) simply explains: “I have many friends who are film directors, and I think differently than they do. They really think in terms of plot and story and linear time, and montage and sound. And I don’t think that way. I just think in terms of single images” (Crewdson, 2006, 171). This argument led me to understand the most obvious difference between the way in which the still and the moving image represent ideas about time. Photography appears to be like flies in amber: embalmed forever or like a point, punctual, death or ice, whereas film is like a line, linear, present or fire. In other words, film is all light and shadow: incessant motion, transience, flickered. Whereas, photography is motionless and frozen, it has the cryogenic power to preserve objects through time without decay. The movie spectator is always absorbed, not by a “has been there”, but by a sense of “there it is”. Photography snatches the piece from the flow of life and has its own duration later, depending from the viewer, whereas cinema records the flow and has its own fixed duration later in another time and space or, as Wollen marked, duration at the fixed programme time. To sum up previously discussed arguments, I came to the conclusion that authors, mostly, supported each other ideas. Wenders thoughts were similar to Wollens and Barthes that photographs seem to be frozen in time, like ice or death. At the same time, he confirmed Metz proposal that photography is unchanged and always active later with example where Wenders explained picture being taken ten years ago tells about ten years that happened since. Also Wollen supported this idea that image is near ‘zero’ duration and always located in an ever-‐receding ‘then’ where the spectator’s ‘now’, the moment of looking at the image, has no fixed duration. He confirmed that it could be extended as long as fascination lasts. Finally, Metz and Wollen haven’t discussed importance of films being sequential or accidental although Wenders underlined those as very important aspects and confirmed that films are congruent time sequences, not congruent ideas. Each accident in flow of time is unique event, almost holy and we shouldn’t interfere with it. He felt it is not allowed to cut flow of time or cut too fast or cut too often, because it is violating time. References
Louisiana Channel, Louisiana Museum of Modern Art (2014) Wim Wenders: Painter, Filmmaker, Photographer. [Online], Available: https://vimeo.com/111736148 [accessed 15th October 2015]. Museum of Modern Art (2015) Wim Wenders: Interview with MoMA Film. [Online], Available: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6F5mhFyemg [accessed 31st December 2015]. Kolditz, Stefan (1992) Summer in the City. In: Wender, W. Frieda Grafe et al (123). Munich/Vienna: Hanser. Oksiloff, Assenka (1996) Eden is Burning: Wim Wenders’s Techniques of Synaesthesia. The German Quarterly, 69 (1): 32 – 47. Dieckmann, Katherine & Wenders, Wim (1984-‐1985) Wim Wenders: An Interview. Film Quarterly, 38 (2): 2 – 7. Katz, Marc (1998) Wim Wenders on the Verbal and Visual. Pacific Coast Philology 33 (2): 109 – 111. Barthes, Roland (1981) Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. New York: Hill and Wang. Barthes, Roland (1977) Image-‐Music-‐Text. London: Fontana Press.
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