Era gia l’ora che volge il disio (...)

‘Twas now the hour that turneth back desire
(in those who sail the sea, and melts the heart, (...))’

A book celebrating LA, Venice, Cannes and surroundings. The golden edge of a continent, a singular outpost, light on the horizon. Shrouded in mystery and beauty, they somehow hold a truth. Mythologies.

Not the lauded ‘decisive moment’ but a state rather. ‘Era gia l’ora’. A heightened sense of presence. The hour. The sea. Cinema as a red line.

As with any inspiring state, the strange collusion of concentration and relaxation. The harboring garden, the quest for what lies beyond. Nostalgia and tomorrow’s elusive fruits present all at once.

In making this book, or catalogue, images slowly made their way. A web of connections becoming apparent (or are my tastes just a little too predictable?).

Antononi, Zabriski point, Ferrara, Basani, the Finzi-Continis, the Lido.

The Safdie’s ‘Heaven knows’ cast in Venice, Tilda’s quiff, Ryan’s white tuxedo.

Haneke’s helping hand.

———

It all resonates with my booklet on drawing (https://www.marcsmit.co/buy-a-book/drawn-thoughts-on-a-discipline). An attempt to capture that notion of presence. Discipline. Le songe premier. Excavation of what already is. Complementary publications they are.

A sense that this book somehow closes a chapter. An invitation to a more poetic and abstract follow-up. Laying bare the cracks. Thomas Mann and Cavafy’s closing quote as reminders.