16mm, rewatched. One of Brakhage's highest peaks. Paraphrasing Iris Murdoch, "the sea the sea," and also the flowers and the trees, and how the camera filming them directly makes them paraphrases of a text about light and endowed it with multiple variations of light, a text of light - the title of a previous film, and which, in the end, is the motto of much of his films, if not of the whole of his work.
Were I programming a double bill I would put this together with Louis Le Prince's Roundhay Garden Scene. Or do similar things not peer here, in this patio of patios, in this bushwall where the roses are so red they seem to bleed from the celluloid. Don't other ghosts leave footnotes here, descendants of descendants of those eerie, strange 2 seconds from the start of History in film? And then other surfaces [cont.]