Joel Schlemowitz

A documentary team gets a grant to do a film on a rare fatal disease that is attacking homeless people. However, they quickly find the film too depressing. Ducking into a nightclub, they discover a young Manhattan comedienne and decide instead to follow her as she makes the circuit of auditions in L.A. as she tries to get a TV pilot. Unfortunately, she has failed to tell her boyfriend of this move. He decides he will trail her out west. There, the boyfriend runs into an old friend who has already made a break on a TV pilot. Seizing the opportunity, the actress turns her attentions to the established actor. However, the actress goes nowhere in auditions, but her ex-boyfriend is suddenly noticed and becomes the next hot prospect.

While working on a documentary on his old neighborhood, a young film school graduate shifts the focus of his production onto the disappearance of a local resident and the strange characters who are conducting the search to find him.

Filmmaker Alyssa Bolsey stumbles on a treasure trove of vintage cameras, old film reels, fading photos, technical drawings and boxes of documents that belonged to her great-grandfather Jacques Bolsey. Among the many boxes, she spots an old movie camera with the word "Bolex" embossed on its side and a dangling tag with the date, "1927." Entranced, she embarks on a journey to reveal how Jacques aimed to disrupt the early film industry with a motion picture camera for the masses.

After a twenty year period of multiple illnesses and injuries, the filmmaker turns the camera on herself as a way to analyze her chances for a happier, healthier life. In the process, she captures the frustration, tedium and petty annoyances of a revolving-door relationship with the medical establishment, while portraying the complicated web of emotions that accompany any medical problem. With humor and honesty, The Odds of Recovery uses the filmmaker's medical history as a means to address a perennial human problem: the desire to avoid conflict and deny the need for radical change.

A young man sets out on a journey to the Ogre's lair, in search of a feather with the power to save a dying king.

A filmic analogy for the elusiveness of the past. The operations of unconventional printing techniques representing the processes of memory. The film begins with 8mm home movies laid in a jumble over 16mm stock and exposed with a flashlight, and ends with the home movies run through a 16mm contact printer.

A film by Joel Schlemowitz

A hand-cranked film of a wind-up record player, hand-colored to simulate the unheard music.

Corpuscles dash about. Nerves twitch. Neurons fire. Anatomical illustrations, overlaid with the body's activities scratched and handpainted directly onto the film.

"After Henri Duparc's setting of the poem by Baudelaire, which is heard in faint echo on the soundtrack. Rococo adhesive transparencies over hand-colored film alternate with Jenn Reeves seen in black and white negative."

Jonas Mekas's loft. Two rolls of 16mm film shot one week after his passing. In memoriam.

Five variations on an unfriendly-looking object.

A three minute roll of film shot by Joel Schlemowitz of Brooklyn, NY and mailed to Nicole Koschmann in Nederland, just outside Boulder, CO. The two collaborators shot images on the same undeveloped film, fusing together images from New York and Colorado.

A camera roll. Forty years celebrated in four-thousand frames.

A film of "morning poem #43," by Wanda Phipps. The color was created through hand-printing black and white film with a flashlight and colored filters onto unexposed color film in the dark.

A miniature city symphony wrought in the sounds of the street and rain-smeared black-and-white. - Max Goldberg

A short film of Emily Dickinson’s poem number 1734, which begins with: “Oh, honey of an hour”. The words of the poem appear hand painted onto the film frames.

Multiple camera passes of baroque statuary with a soundtrack of dripping water and a Louis Couperin prelude highly distorted. The centerpiece of the film is Kerry Laitala's Chattertonesque photographic self-portrait.

A tableaux vivant. The sound of the victrola employed "live" for screenings, utilizing the Vitaphone sound system. Created as part of Residency Unlimited: Special Features.

This film is a collaboration with filmmaker Joel Schlemowitz, on ALL SAINTS DAY 2001 we each shot 100 ft of film, at the same time of the day, 3000 miles apart, and we did not tell each other what we shot. The film was hand processed and cut up into 2ft length’s and then cut back together alternating from Joel’s footage to Jon’s until all the film was gone. This film is the follow up to ALL SAINTS DAY which was done using the same techniques the year prior soundtrack for this film was done the same way.