Stephanie Barber

“Why is she talking like that?” A child is not Lost Horizon’s most appreciative viewer.

A mini-revolution. Wrong choices. The divorce of ethereal beauty and mystery so common in experimental films. In Stephanie Barber's films. What begins as devastatingly awkward or "tender" unfolds itself to show a deceptive, strangely rigid literary formalism commented upon by the content. The two (form and content) dance around, moving towards and away from each other in the tricky, clear dialogue. Hyper-reflexivity, art and love (and the role faith plays in each of these). The filmmaker writes, "I, myself, feel safest around purposefulness, can read more clearly an artist's work when I trust that choices have been weighed, bear meaning. This film requires a great deal of faith because it is strange and labile. Its device-ness is so apparent as to have left it naked. And then so naked as to be, perhaps, closed again."

A sonnet, the fifties family travel, through, say america, or time, a fascination with the exciting future, the image is purposefully jerky and toy-like with the casio keyboard beats a (faux, dated) take on the serial pieces to come later. The entirely is falling apart, or so close to falling, toy machines. There's not so much really put down, but a lot of pointing and elbowing.

A film by Stephanie Barber.

Conceptually, Stephanie Barber's short film LETTERS, NOTES is simplicity itself: found photographs hold the screen as animated texts transcribe brief notes and letters unmoored from context. And yet the elusive poignancy that emerges of this exquisite corpse structure is richly suggestive of the roots of narrative. If a code is a "reduced version of lang." (as one of the more enigmatic notes reads) then Barber’s film might be said to explore the possibilities of decoding: specifically, how cinema makes it possible to rewrite sounds and images as emotions. LETTERS, NOTES is another remarkable selection from the Cinemad Almanac.

A little kitten is pet by a feather.

The horizon, where the sky and the earth meet, is always elsewhere, a promised place where these two elements come together. a metaphor, an orienting, a promise of transition, change, transcendence. a place where the corporeal and spiritual meet, or are cleaved apart. Also, here, the space between narrative and documentary, fact and fiction, is scratched between two voices. Jayne love reads a text i wrote for her, short sentences on the concept of the horizon and the briefest suggestion of narrative collide with pieces of Richard (Oswan) Williams' beautiful, rum-fueled living room sermons to me.

The video hovers tentatively between therapy, documentary, poetics and mystic traipsery and ends, like all good things, in surrender to song. There is a challenge presented (the challenge to engage earnestly with the piece as it requests) to fall into the breathing and pacing presented, and the challenge to view the video as a discrete piece of art at the same time. The piece relies heavily on the text, the disembodied Virgil through which the words become musical, instructive and (due to the absence of image) visual.

A short trip around, like a poem or a nostalgia for what you never had or knew anything about. We pick up speed around the equator. ANGUS MUSTANG is paralleling different travels, the physicality of travel pointed to, most clearly in the soundtrack and the pacing of the film, with the referees of travel's many orphans springing through the implied history.

A brief, poetic 16mm film on a simple sculptural action. What becomes apparent is the humor possible in material interactions and the tender and sometimes melodramatic symbolism of cut flowers. What begins as a reverence for natural beauty ends up pointing towards the abstract expressionism and color field work of high modernism which, in many cases eschewed the banality of such 'natural' beauty. The collaged soundtrack suggests weightier concerns, gently insistent behind the flatness of the utilitarian sounds of ripping tape.

According to filmmaker Stephanie Barber, "This is probably the most heartbreaking film I have made." The pacing is romantic and simple, haiku-esque pauses and inclusions, with the words contrasting this poetry with their factual, disinterested narration. And that narration is a simple statement of failure; one which lies not in any action but in the pre-thought to that action, the hope or faith one holds in oneself, one's knowledge or abilities.

METRONOME is both the most straightforward (as well as the most difficult) of Stephanie Barber's films. It is very dear to the filmmaker's heart. The soundtrack of a radio play is off-set by the intractable images of "spaces." The former seems to balance precariously between kitsch and true heart-rending emotion and the latter references the asceticism of seventies minimalism (in experimental film) with the impenetrable intellectualism becoming increasingly moving as the film progresses. The marriage of these two elements is an odd tension: the tale of the play, the threat of limb extraction, asks the necessity of "whole and what the elements are which compose complete."

Yon and Payola find themselves in a Victorian conservatory. They are companionable, disoriented and petulant––they whip wildly through these disembodied states. Payola reads an excerpt of their considerable tome on the age of enlightenment to Yon. Payola's research, and presentation of this research, is a purposeful affront to empirical data, the scientific method and other enlightenment ideals, while reveling in the desire for the revolution and intellectual expansion those thinkers championed. The concepts are undermined by the form and register of their delivery OR the concepts are strengthened by the poetry through which they are presented.

Found footage film with a Chinese circus. The audience embraces the spectacular, theatrical elements. The appreciation is clearly mutual. Suggestive editing, inspired by avant-garde master Bruce Conner, makes the spectacle even more focused.

CATALOG is a composition of stillness. An inversion of the spectacle. Actors are posed, recreating various photographs in surroundings unfrozen. The soundtrack is a dense tale of spaces. A photograph more mutable than an image should be.

A portrait of risk and language, the experimental narrative Daredevils, presents a writer as she interviews a well-known artist and feels the reverberations of their discussion throughout her day. Visually spare, still and verbose the video constructs a metaphor of an artist’s life and work as daredevilry. –S.B.

Depicts the daily life of "Layton House," a fictional therapeutic community, where doctors live with their schizophrenic patients. The characters and events of Layton House were drawn from writings of the anti-psychiatry movement , whose most famous proponent was R.D. Laing. In this film we see experimental therapies, power struggles, and the individual arcs of mental illness converge, as a community struggles to understand itself and determine its destiny.

A haiku or love letter to the charm of two-dimensional images. The spectacle awaits our adoration, gives a tender intimation of collusion. (Stephanie Barber)

An expanded text piece which considers human’s press against (alienation from?) the natural world. An installation utilizing words as sculptural elements to contemplate the morphological state of language and nature. the way each need endlessly change and evolve. The way we use each. discard and re-invent each. A philosophical treatise which tries to understand the word nature.

Stephanie Barber 2008 | 00:13:21 | United States | English | Color | Stereo | 4:3 "how looking at what has become the skeletons of photographs is a visual lecture on aesthetic pleasure or emotion. and how being, almost entirely denied of this pleasure, or having the pleasure merely suggested induces a viewer to ruminate on the act of viewing and that of wanting to view. and maybe it is evolution which causes this anxiety and art form." A series of collages recreating the photographs of well known artists (Uta Barth, Kohei Yoshiyuki, Candida Hofer, Deborah Willis) and a very slight suggestion of the actual photographs. The soundtrack is composed of approximately 25 statements on photography. -- Stephanie Barber