I like to make movies and pictures. I used to make objects, but now I live in a dreamworld. Resignation is a powerful thing. (I hope to get back to the object someday.)
Sound, then vision.
I remember your casual moves and how we all were once delirious.
Everything emerges from desire, magnetism, longing, and obsession. I used to believe in spirit, but now it’s a dirty, low-down visceral voyeurism that propels. I have high-resolution appetites but low-brow motives.
The sound of a slamming chair has a momentary effect, yet it never fails to please. Likewise, a photograph is as real as anything else. The last and greatest power is that of touch.
I feel pie-eyed,
capable of anything,
good for nothing,
brutal and awkward.
Everything in the world is material, suffocating and bewildering. Yet, even the closest thing is still a million miles away. The small screen is bigger than the big screen. The device is enchanting. It is the rhythm of love (desperation, fetishism, tenderness and surrender) that rules all.
Blake Cook