I retreated to a cabin perched above an untouched valley and made some moving pictures. I approached each frame as a painter might, attempting to create images that hadn’t existed in my mind before, that didn’t serve as a stand-in for another reality (i.e. a shot of a tree is not a real tree), but had a reality of their own. This 23-minute silent film explores the space between the anticipation of what comes next and what has come before, weaving together the textures found in that liminal place: longing, grappling, flickers of tension, colors fading and returning–and finally, silence.

It’s a challenging time to release films. There’s no marketplace for slow, contemplative work, at least not while the algorithms are in charge. Maybe there’s no audience for this type of work either, at least not until our collective amnesia lifts and the hunger for the real thing re-emerges. For now, the internet is seemingly where films like this go to disappear. So, I’ll hold this one close and share it the way one might share his deepest secrets: in person, in small spaces, with an audience willing to listen–and who has all the time in the world.

Stay tuned for news about a screening near you.