Super 8 transferred to HD · 11′ · 2018

Reunion of selfs
gathering of tiny frames of time
sliding
willing to be observed

Reverence-Pedro-Maia

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Reverence is a film by Pedro Maia in collaboration with Visionist, and with words by Alejandra Smits. Commissioned by PS/Y and based on the live AV show that Maia and Visionist toured during 2018 and 2019 > www.pedromaia.net/visionist


film by PEDRO MAIA with LOUIS CARNELL poem ALEJANDRA SMITS image PEDRO MAIA sound VISIONIST voice ALEJANDRA SMITS extra footage TERRI VARHOL – shot in Super 8 Kodak TRI-X and VISION3 film lab ANDEC FILMTECHNIK film scanning KORN MANUFAKTUR commissioned by PS/Y

https://agencia.curtas.pt/films/show/462

 

Festival Selection

2020 MUTEK San Francisco (Beyond The Now)
2019 Vladivostok International Film Festival, Vladivostok (Moving Forward)
2019 25th L’Etrange Festival, Paris (Competition)
2019 Seattle International Film Festival (Official Selection)
2019 Loading Festival Porto, Portugal
2019 Córtex Festival de Curtas Metragens, Sintra (Competition)


Was I making a reverence when I bent my body and stared at my feet?
And, if so, who was I making that reverence to?
Strings like fingers
stretching from my core
to this vast
and unforgiving void

A single voice was gathering the letters
stacking one stone
on top of another

Geography can easily indicate where the
river was born and where the river will end T
ectonic plates dance hidden behind
layers of wood, clay, and water.
Like the dark side of the moon,
shields, and locks
the shapes
the patterns
of this existent being

Was I looking for a reason to bow?

My back hurts.
My hands hurt.
The mountain holding me hurts.
Feels more like an island losing its own power
surrounded by constellations instead of water

I stare towards myself
a thin possibility opens
a forgotten hemisphere is found
where fear and curiosity meet
strength arises

volcano
crust
piece of dust

Fire builds up
fast
like a pack of wolves
Reclaiming their territory
flames take
their own path
Zigzag
they cut off my way
a big fence standing in front of me
as if it could be part of my own sanity
Reaching out
The flames feel like my own hands
making a strange but elegant
dance.

My muscles hurt.
My eyes hurt.
The idea of them hurts the most.

I was even considering moving away
from this mass of noise
But this tiny possibility of lack
keeps me here
Grounds me
reminding me my feet belong to the mountain
Barefoot
I must regain
space I once doubted could be mine
This everlasting game between bliss and obscurity

Water coming down my window
drawing rivers and
Rivers drawing lanes and
lanes drawing veins
Parties where they all meet
right in the center

Reunion of selfs
gathering of tiny frames of time
sliding
willing to be observed

So I bow
And I observe

– Alejandra Smits, 2018