Over the last few months I have discovered the lyrical filmmaker Paul Clipson and his visceral improvisatory super 8 collages. I’ve been down a rabbit hole, tracing over his videos that span a sizeable and prolific library. These visual poems, particularly the likes of ‘Black Field’, ‘Phantom Ghost’ and ‘Made of Air’, have been major sources of inspiration for me. This medium expresses something I can’t quite put into words. “Through masterful use of superimposition and visual abstraction to reimagine landscapes” (Mubi) we are taken through a passage of time, that muddles the temporality of lived experience, casting image over image in what starts to feel like a fever dream of memory and colour. Perception is all encompassing, yet we too easily only focus on the tangible, concrete forms that appear to us as known objects. Clipson’s work on the other hand, I find, explores the invisible happenings – patterns of obscurity that surround us in every moment, washing over our subconscious without our knowhow. Thinking back to Jackdaws, I cant help but wonder which colours I imbue them with. As I move through the world, my lifeworld supposedly determines how I receive and interact with the external world. But this is not fixed. Life-worlds are fluid. The way I interact with the world changes based on my perception of it. But my perception of it only changes if there is some internal shift, that is perhaps catalysed by, say, Jackdaws (external). In this case, a mutual transformation is the result of a never-ending conversation between the perceiver and their life-world; a conversation that transforms both parties, one after the other. But in our paradoxical emotional and mental complexities (Jung?), we sometimes stand in the way of this endless dance of ‘becoming’ (Deleuzian?). And this, while not always, can be a product of mass-industrial, consumption based society, that alienates us from the very life-world that allows us to perceive it in the first place. This disconnection could be seen too as a mutual transformation, though one that is more reminiscent of a positive feedback system, as opposed to the features of cylical negative feedback systems with equilibrium as its anchor point, ubiquitous in the natural world.
Clipson’s work reminds me of all those aspects of a lifeworld that people in their day to day might stroll past without a thought to their (tiny) magnificence. And yet, when collated on a reel of film in quick, lyrical succession, these aspects of experience feel so moving and captivating. An ode to the overlooked. It reminds me of Abram’s ‘The Spell of the Sensuous’ in which he unpacks Merleau-ponty’s observations of language:
“It is first the sensuous, perceptual world that is relational and web-like in character, and hence that the organic, interconnected structure of any language is an extension or echo of the deeply interconnected matrix of sensorial reality itself. Ultimately, it is not human language that is primary, but rather the sensuous, perceptual life-world, whose wild, participatory logic ramifies and elaborates itself in language.”(1996)
The phenomenological threshold of clipsons work is palpable and, much like a dream, reignites dormant memories of shape and colour that precede language and interaction, reinforcing the primacy of a sensorial reality. His rapid, double exposed macro slideshows increase the urgency of honouring the invisible components of our biospheric web, within which nothing can be truly understood without relation to everything other.
A few weeks ago I managed to get my hands on a Super 8 Nikon R10 for a ridiculously good deal. Clipson’s work has given me newfound motivation to couple this medium with my eventual soundscape composition, as I have experimented before with video collage using a Hi8 handycam. I’ve been keeping up with trips to Nonsuch Park, though as of late I have been less concerned with field recording and more so with filming, particularly as I am aware of the approaching deadline + turnover time of developing super 8 film. The Nikon R10 allows for analogue editing to take place within the camera itself, through the use of fades, overlaps, double exposures and varying frame rates. By combining these elements + using the R10’s macro mode and zoom ring, I have now used about 30ft of my first 200t film cartridge. I’ve opted for tungsten film as I will be doing most of my shooting during low light (sunset/ dusk), though I have purchased a colour conversion filter lens for instances in daylight. I’ve also bought Ecktachrome film, to play with the idea of saturating perception…? The main idea is to overlay images of jackdaws as the primary object of perception, over abstract, carnal images that shape the way we might interact with them, for better or worse. While I have drawn out some rough narrative to follow – searching/ encounter/ disorientation/ industrial/ encounter – what I have filmed so far is largely improvisatory. Without the ability to see the result of any of my creative decisions until the film is developed, I am left to completely trust my intuition and abstract vision. Im both very nervous, and excited to see how this first roll of film will turn out. I’ve really focused in on exposing over the same reels of film multiple times, to enhance the layers of experience that define any given moment. Images that have appeared so far include the luminaries (sun/ moon), city lights, jackdaws, eyes (not limited to humans), skyscraper windows, light shimmering over water, pedestrians from a distance, spring growth, shadows. A lot of these have been inspired by careful study of Clipson’s videos. I’m sure each of these have some metaphorical relevance, but I’m trying not to think too hard about making everything make sense. As time goes on and the work materialises I have a feeling the purpose of these decisions will become more apparent.
Researching into Clipson last month prompted an awareness of a perceptual liminality, provoked by the reflection of the sun. I wrote a short excerpt back then which feels very relevant now:
“I looked up and saw the sky glimmering in the highrise windows on the other side of the street – the sun illuminated this mirage, hidden itself though, behind concrete bearings and window frames, hidden in form, but present in its luminescence. Through these human structures, I experience first-hand a second-hand sun. It slowly moves across the building, a small cross section of radiance passing slowly across these synthetic surfaces. Second-hand sun spots appear in my vision. The eyes feel tinted, even as the blotches fade – a phenomenon of intersubjectivity, mediated by light and surface, presence and absence, a projected sky that cuts through the veil of habitual perception. All that’s left is the strangeness of experience itself. Windows become membranes, thresholds where perception becomes visible to itself?”