Landscape in the Mist

Over the next few weeks I'll be spending some time refining the style and intent of this blog.

What I'm hoping is that I'll begin to be able to capture some of the spirit of one of my favorite filmmaker's (Robert Bresson) book, "Notes on the Cinematographer". Its basically thoughts not fully fleshed out, but more laid bare in a fragmented extemporaneous manner. What I love most about this approach is that it gives an honest view inside the mind of the artist and how he observes and processes the world around him.

For me, most of my thoughts here will remain connected to the themes of faith, film, and folly - though not exclusively. I often find that anything from the most mundane, such as a bowl of granola in the morning to the latest headlines regarding world politics will feed into the way I may view a film, or feel about my faith, or even give cause for me break away in a sort of protest by engaging with utter ridiculousness and folly. I will simply try to keep my eyes open to the world. And I'll retain the right to get tangential when I need be tangential. There's so much going on out there in the great here and now. So much work to do. Its a wonder a boy can ever find time for sleep.

So for now, here are a couple random musings brought on by Theo Angelopoulos' film "Landscape in the Mist"

Now we see through a glass darkly. Then we shall see face to face. But we cannot see now. And we cannot hear. Father, where are you? Father, draw near. Oh, father it has been such a long, long time. Father, is that you? Can you hear your children? Can you hear our cry? I think I hear you whispering. I think I hear you beside the dying horse, crying.