Wheresoe’er I turn my view, All is strange, yet nothing new; Endless labour all along, Endless labour to be wrong; Phrase that Time has flung away, Uncouth words in disarray: Trickt in antique ruff and bonnet, Ode and elegy and sonnet.
“All along, all I or anybody else have been able to do, is create by whatever means — film or any other art — an equivalent of what we were seeing.”
Stan Brakhage
INSTAGRAM
BANDCAMP
YOUTUBE