experimental film festival

Still from Kelly Rauer's "P.O.V. (reflexive)"/ Courtesy the artist

By Patrick Collier

Every year about this time, our neighbor, Steve, drops us an email to complain about the frogs on our small pond.

“They keep me awake,” he writes, and because we don’t know Steve very well (except to think of him as a pretty pleasant fellow), we take this annual complaint ritual of his as light-hearted criticism, although yes, the frogs are robust vocalizers. If we were to take him seriously, we would have to do the unthinkable: poison or drain the pond.

Instead, I don’t push beyond finding it mildly perplexing that someone would not think the high-pitched mating calls soothing. Indeed, I love to nod off to their songs and prefer to imagine that upon reading this, city dwellers will feel a small pang of jealousy.

I know from experience that there are stimulations some might find pleasant that I do not. For instance, I do not like gallery openings. It is not a wholly unmanageable scene, yet it does require extra effort to navigate around conversations held directly in front of a piece of art I wish to see closely. And heaven forbid that a piece of art involve some discrete audio element, for filtering out casual conversations is not easy. Yet, because I do what I do (write about art), I must sometimes wade into these waters, and this is what I did this last Tuesday as Grand Detour’s Experimental Film Festival opened the Gallery Homeland portion of their city wide programming.

Now, it is not my job to openly promote this festival, but I will mention that as this little essay goes to press, there are still worthy events, including screenings, that you can look into on their website.


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