Below is the script I wrote for an essay-film I created in spring of 2016:
I have an affinity for Chantal Akerman
The late Belgian filmmaker whose stories circle around watching intimate life, including that of her mother’s
I people watch often, I enjoy creating a data bank of interaction in my mind
without having to put the effort in to actually interact
It voyeuristic without the sexual pleasure, instead I derive a joy and sense of belonging from watching others
I am good at interacting with between 3-7 people, 10 on a good day. But with more than ten I am swept into the sport of people watching.
Chantal’s mother is the center of two films, News From Home (1976) and No Home Movie (2015)
In News From Home
The camera follows Chantal around New York City in 1976 her mother, whose letters narrate the film
is living in Belgium
she writes desperately:
[please keep writing] “its all I have left” “please write often”
“I am anxious”
“I am worried”
Like Chantal, I record when I watch, but through personal writing which helps me painstakingly analyze and rationalize
I write about those around me who I know
News From Home is largely filmed on subways
on 1970s New York summer streets
Her subjects are filmed intimately without total consent — unlike me, Chantal captured strangers Men and women walk on the subway platform, unaware of the intrusive length of the filmmakers shot
Over these images of quasi-voyeuristic observation
Chantal’s mother [Mamman, Natalia, Nelly, Ma Cherie]
tells Chantal about her reality in Belgium — the news from home.
In No Home Movie, made in 2015
Chantal’s camera follows her mother around in her home in Belgium
The camera has evolved from an escape from her mother’s suffocating letters
to anxious hovering over the final moments of her mothers life.
Chantal uses a handheld digital camera inside her mothers apartment
the only shots external of this apartment are long, windy shots of a desert the film is focused on Maman’s aging
on Maman’s inability to discuss trauma
and on her dependency on Chantal
she says:
“where is my Chantal”
[to chantal] “come closer”
“when are you coming back to belgium?”
Like Chantal, I have the desire to record experiences and people not with film, but with photos and writing
I was 14 was I got my first camera, I shot relentlessly
The images are frantic, anxious they are marked by fear
The fear of forgetting is called Athazagoraphobia
more specifically, it is “the fear forgetting or being forgotten or ignored”
I developed the fear of forgetting, when after I was diagnosed with a rare form of ovarian cancer at age 15, I realized what I would be missing out on
Instead of sitting in the courtyard at lunch surrounded by friends’ laughter
I was in a small hospital room, surrounded by the hushed guttural beeps of the machines
When I came back to school, the Athazagoraphobia set in
I became aware of what I had missed, and instantly felt the fear of that occurring again I developed Athazagoraphobia
Though I hadn’t yet identified the Athazagoraphobia
I began to record daily life, unconsciously acknowledging the fear of the loss of memories which I couldn’t experience
My Athazagoraphobia exists in tandem with anxiety the temporality of memory is daunting
I moved from photographing in order to remember to writing in order to remember
which happened when I moved to New York
too much was going on in my head to keep straight with a photo, words became my new medium of choice
Sarah Manguso’s Ongoingness.
describes in detail her journey to end her diary
the anxiety that comes with constantly wanting to capture life and the fear of memory, that same Athazagoraphobia
“I couldn’t face the end of a day without a record of everything that had ever happened” “I wrote so I could say I was truly paying attention”
Sarah has “Graphomania, [which is] the obsessive impulse to write”
She wrote down everything, but “wasn’t yet aware of how much [she] was forgetting”
I began by writing down dreams I wrote on November 16th 2015
All I remember is that my nose wouldn’t stop bleeding
On January 19th 2016
The only thing i remember from the dream is that my ears wouldn’t stop bleeding , but it felt like nose bleed. just blood dripping out of my ears
I have a diary that I keep only of trips which I feel are formative of my character the first time I went to Europe
my first trip without my parents
my freshman year at school
“I feel like my brain has opened to choice”
“Space is healthy and sometimes I feel a little constricted” “I feel like I fell into really intense friendship with him”
I began journaling in my NOTES section of my macbook
Originally, it contained much more than it does now
It had rambling about my friends
my own over-analysis of social situations that made me uncomfortable quotes I liked, books to read, music to listen to
but my computer crashed and with it went my NOTES section A forced cleansing of anxiety and memory
This must have functioned the same way as when Chantal’s mother passed away, shortly after the release of No Home Movie.
A forced relinquishment of control over ones works, which was cathartic for me.
For Chantal, it resulted in her suicide
Chantal had based her whole career, her artistic identity, off capturing the secret lives of women, inspired by her mother’s intimate life
so the loss was unbearable, an earthquake shattering her sense of self
When my emotional hard drive was wiped,
i was forced to accept that the memories I had desperately tried to keep were gone, a reminder that writing them down didn’t render them immortal
What remained of my NOTES was a section of small paragraphs and one liners. The sub-title is
“things I want to say”
I would only journal about myself when in crisis,
only while floating in a sea of nerves
Then, like Sarah, I wrote about writing:
I wrote a piece about why I diary in my NOTES section
“My “Notes” section is anally organized, a neat list of “hours for work”, “to do”,
“funnies”, “food”, and “writing”. My “writing” section is a compilation of late night thoughts, mostly born out of sudden waves of anxiety”
“A recent realization I’ve had is that I have a self-destructive aversion to vulnerability. These notes are my coping mechanism, a 21st century millennial’s journal. My notes section is a substitute to a leather bound notebook to record my daily thoughts and anxieties"
I cannot justify the importance of writing down daily activities
But there is an undeniable catharsis in it.
I also think I enjoy the control involved in curating a specific memory because it again calms the anxiety, the Athazagoraphobia
My first memory involves people and light
— i’m sitting on the burnt golden hardwood floor, and a body is standing in front of the sink. The body alternates rhythmically between washing and placing dishes to dry
In front of the body is a blurred white pained window. The light which comes through and bounces off the body is subdued but crisp. It is early morning I think
I get frustrated because I don’t think i remember much
I don’t remember how much I participated in class in high school or in elementary school
I don’t remember daily life
so i capture it with image and word
I’ve been frustrated because I wanted this film to be made on actual film and not on a digital camera
I think I feel this way because of memorial quality of “film”
The Athazagoraphobia is more directly subdued because of the inherent nostalgic quality of the medium
I am attempting to rationalize and conquer the Athazagoraphobia and just write or photograph or film to be
because I fear what happens when you create only out of a anxiety or only around one topic or person
I fear that attaching my existence so severely to writing
so that I don’t forget, or so that I am not forgotten
will lead to a realization that I haven’t been actually experiencing
I want to remedy the morality of the moment, the mortality of memory in order to finally subdue the Athazagoraphobia