Grand Entrance to the World of the Dead

Locked away but not away; somewhere nearby but unreachable, a periphery so notfaroff it's always in sight.

(Some of us) Still run down the same [mental&emotional] streets we revered/reproached/replaced as children.

Hiding inside&out, writhing about, taken out&in.

Return to 'burn' only to find out you're already in that urn.

On the Clickity-clack Express it's clear I'm always under duress, unless I forget.

Rather pointless, rather stilted, fetid; not what we want us going after.

Shadows frighten what one oughtn't be gripping (that thing before/hind you).

Onward, upward, greener [redder] grasstures.

Two men. Friends? Enemies? Lovers? Brothers? One is nothing, success or failure depends on two.

From a small cabin in the mountains of New York, Nina Breeder and Massimilian Breeder begin a journey across the United States. California is just the initial destination, but just as the edge of the surrounding landscape expands, so does their ultimate destination. A contemplation of nature and time along a raw journey in the American landscape.

A psychedelic montage of home movie footage gives way to a silent western story.

As a family struggles to survive in rural isolation during the Great Depression, their daughter's secret affair begins a journey into the unknown.

1 minute experimental film.

Shot in the abandoned buildings of Gary, Indiana and the cornfields of Western Illinois, The Twenty-One Lives of Billy the Kid presents a fractured historical narrative without any real protagonist, one in which the titular character goes mostly unseen - Billy the Kid as the always-off-screen assailant, as a ghost’s laugh, as a shadow on the road.

Beyond all human restraint lies one's lugubrious layers of paint.

A 'reversal' of Jean-Léon Gérôme's 1872 painting Pollice Verso.

I really hope this is well-received. I really hope there's some sort of reprieve.

Calangros: Um faroeste sobre o terceiro mundo

Christened for the Greek mythological personification of human memory, MNEMOSYNE, MOTHER OF MUSES is Larry Gottheim's facsimile edition of how one reflects on life and experiences (namely, in flashes and excerpts of sound and imagery). Typically known for his avant-garde, single-shot meditations on nature, Gottheim here provides a palindromic quotation of his own memories, including street corners, movie quotes, family members and Johnny Hartman tunes.

"My last image of Jonas."—Ken Jacobs