The odyssey of a film-maker (1960)

Record Details:

Something wrong or inaccurate about this page? Let us Know!

Thanks for helping us continually improve the quality of the Lantern search engine for all of our users! We have millions of scanned pages, so user reports are incredibly helpful for us to identify places where we can improve and update the metadata.

Please describe the issue below, and click "Submit" to send your comments to our team! If you'd prefer, you can also send us an email to mhdl@commarts.wisc.edu with your comments.




We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.

Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.

these most lovely people. For the first time I saw them. I saw them as I had never seen them before. And not only that: I saw every least thing as though I had never seen it before. It was as though I had come to some sort of threshold, and stepping over had come into a new world and found myself a new person. This experience I have come to think of as my initiation into the motion picture medium. For Iris Barry, who founded the Film Library of the Museum of Modern Art, says of the motion picture : "Its particular property is a sense of discovery, like that of an astigmatic person who sees a new and richer world when he first puts on his spectacles— a sensation of delight in seeing something with new depth and penetration, as if for the first time." And Pudovkin says much the same thing: "The basic aim of cinema is to teach people to see all things new, to abandon the commonplace world in which they live blindly, and to discover at last the meaning and the beauty of the universe.' ' Both Iris Barry and Pudovkin use the word "discover." To them the motion picture medium is discovery, and by that token it is poetry. "Poetry," says Sir Herbert Read, "being exploratory . . .' To the Eskimo artist his art, too, is exploratory. One who knows him well describes the Eskimo artist at work : As the carver holds the unworked ivory lightly in his hand, turning it this way and that, he whispers "Who are you? Who hides there?" And then: "Ah, seal!" He rarely sets out, at least consciously, to carve, say, a seal, but picks up the ivory, examines it to find its hidden form and, if that's not immediately apparent, carves aimlessly until he sees it, humming or chanting as he works. Then he brings it out : Seal, hidden, emerges. It was always there : he didn't create it; he released it; he helped it step forth.5 I had the opportunity recently of seeing four films of Robert Bresson, and my eyes were opened to the great similarity, and the 5. Carpenter, Edmund, et ah Eskimo. Toronto, University of Toronto, 1959, p. [33]. 41