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A gentle and confused home movie in search of a lost space - my grandmother's garden, where I spent my childhood. There is nothing to testify to that place and my time there. There are memories pollinated by the pollen of garden poppies the warmth of my hands, toiling in the sunshine and the stories of adults about the big world. Summer, reveries, childhood, prejudices, the realities of the noughties, a small town - shimmering images that can never manifest, but endlessly manifest themselves. The intimate experience is torn by externalised reality: the formerly Latin poppy becomes a threat to gardeners and gardeners, bugs represent terror and flowers represent death. |
To R
Spring
To Each, Her Own
Anne of Green Gables: The Sequel
End of the Line
Tomie: Rebirth
Inside Asda: Bigger, Better, Cheaper?
Nails
They
Bodies Under Construction
The Chosen Ones
Bo Burnham: Words, Words, Words
Royal Tramp 2
[REC]²
Homecoming
Orpheus' Song
Beyoncé: I Am... World Tour
Rogue River
Ong Bak 3
The Three Friends
Martin und Hans
A Brief History of Circles
no one knows who created skull trumpet (until now)
How to Explain Your Mental Illness to Stanley Kubrick
Ten Lives of a Cat: A Film about Chris Marker
Last Year in Dachau
After James Benning's YouTube
There We Are John...
Rope’s End
Referred Pains: the Necessity of the (Minor) Malignant Violation in Slapstick Comedy
Rebuild of Evangelion Series Analysis
The Stendhal Syndrome or My Dinner with Turhan Bey
CARA-B
Functions of Film Sound
Love in the Time of Corona
Daedalus
Swimming, Dancing
Saintmaking
Wild Plants of Palestine
Letter to My Tribe
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