國立清華大學藝術中心主辦的「手繪16mm工作坊」，目的是希望清大的學生能夠有認識電影膠片與藝術創作的機會，增進多元發展管道。對我來說，能在清大舉辦16mm手繪工作坊別具意義，除了是有幸回到母校回饋學弟妹之外，也算是終於能夠把我在舊金山藝術學院（San Francisco Art Institute）四年的實驗電影重鎮學習與訓練，將各項技術跟創作思維分享給學弟妹。
原文發佈時間：June 12, 2015
The Unseen Seen: When film reels aren’t preserved perfectly, it makes them all the more interesting to photograph
When photographer Reiner Riedler began shooting film reels and negatives, he veered away from capturing the content of movies, focusing his lens instead on the stories the reels themselves told. His creative playground, Berlin’s Deutsche Kinemathek film archive, housed hundreds of thousands of films spanning decades. When travel and archiving failed to preserve the reels perfectly, it was good news for Riedler. Rips, scratches and imperfections made the reels all the more interesting to photograph. His travelling exhibition, The Unseen Seen, opens at the TIFF Bell Lightbox this week as part of the 2015 Scotiabank CONTACT Photography Festival. The Post’s Teddy Wilson spoke with Riedler from Vienna about his magnum opus exhibition.
當攝影師 Reiner Riedler 開始拍攝電影膠卷與電影底片時，他的焦點不在電影內容上而是轉移到電影膠卷本身的故事。數十年累積下來擁有上千萬部電影的德國柏林電影資料館（Deutsche Kinemathek）是他的創意園區。那些到各處去放片或因保存不當而劣化的電影片，對Riedler來說都是最好的材料。撕裂，刮傷或者各種讓電影底片不盡完美的狀況都可以在攝影作品之下變得更有趣。他今年的巡迴展覽「看見看不見的」（The Unseen Seen），首展於本週加拿大多倫多國際影展，Scotiabank CONTACT Photography Festival的其中一個節目。本篇作者Teddy Wilson在維也納與Riedler訪談關於他的代表作品。(此篇僅作為參考翻譯，若翻譯有誤煩請提醒。譯/岑竹)
Q How did the idea come about for The Unseen Seen, to photograph film reels?
A The idea originally came from a friend who works in the archive at the Deutsche Kinemathek. We went to the same university, and he always told be about his archives. One day I was curious, maybe it is interesting to have a look at the boxes of film reels. They have many stories to tell because they have a long history, they travel a lot. You can see from the outside how long their journey was.
Q How did you start photographing them?
A I went to a film museum in Vienna, and rented one movie that had a nick and I brought it to my studio. I was just curious, I had never touched a movie reel. I opened it and took it against a light. There was this special moment when I saw that it was transparent. You have the size of an LP, and you turn it around and then there are these patterns and I was really surprised. In this moment I knew there was something to do. I contacted my friend in Berlin from the Deutsche Kinemathek and asked if we could start something together. I got permission to make a film list and to go to the archives and have a look at all the movies. They have hundreds of thousands. I started with very simple movies that I saw in my childhood, like Bambi and King Kong. It was a very exciting journey, and it’s not finished.
我從維也納的一間電影資料館租了一部電影片帶回我的工作室， 但是這部片有一個裂痕。我從來沒有碰過電影膠卷，我是因為好奇租的。我打開它朝向亮光看著，當我看到它的透明度時候，一瞬間有很奇妙的感覺。它的大小跟黑膠唱片差不多，但是你側面看時它所擁有的這些圖案讓我好驚訝。那個時候，我就知道可以做什麼事情了。我與那位在Deutsche Kinemathek工作的朋友聯繫，我問我們可否一起進行這個計畫。我因此得到資料館的許可，進到裡面看所有的電影片然後列出我要的清單。他們有上千萬部的電影片。我從我小時候看的一些電影片開始，比如《小鹿斑比》和《金剛》。那是個讓人興奮的探訪，至今都還沒有結束。
Courtesy of Reiner Riedler 35 mm Positive
Print of "Der Blaue Engel" (The Blue Angel), 1930, Dir. Josef von Sternberg, act 5 of 5
A We just know movies by their projected image, we never see the material. I wanted to have a look at the material that transports the image. I wanted to confront the photographs of [the reels], which are titled the title of the movie, and to confront that with the images in our head and in our memory [of the film]. I wanted to see what happens to an audience if you go to a space and you see pictures, titles, and bring your own memory. This was the experiment.
Q How did you then develop a technique to photograph them?
A At the very beginning I had to do some experiments. I had to backlight the movies. Now I use a ring-flash, and it is always wide light, so I don’t need to change the colour of the light. I tried to keep the same methods for all the movies, to [better] see the difference [between films] at the end. Also important, I always use the first act. Many of the movies have three, four five, up to 13 rolls, and I just decided to do the first acts. Sometimes I shoot all the acts, like The Three Colors trilogy. [For] Three Colors: Blue, I took all of them because it was amazing, the only [film reel] that was blue. It is the analogies between the colours, the patterns, and the titles that were interesting for me as a photographer.
Q How did you approach photographing film reels versus photographing portraits or landscapes?
A I did documentary photography before. I think I just needed to change because I was really bored with documentary photography. I had been doing it for 20 years, and I had the feeling that there is nothing more to discover. What is always connected with my work is a journey. I always do journeys into worlds which are for me, undiscovered. The journey into the archives for me was a big adventure, how to look at these film reels. And I found out I was the first who did that. Every film reel is a discovery, it is a nostalgic travel to my past, to my first cinema experience, and of course I learned a lot about filmmaking.
Courtesy of Reiner RiedlerCitizen Cane
Kitchen Sink Cinema: Artist-Run Film LaboratoriesBy Genevieve Yue on March 30, 2015
The decline in commercial film production, however, has been countered by a rebirth in the phenomenon of artist-run film laboratories. What in the early Nineties was limited to a handful of cooperatively owned, independent labs, mostly in France, has grown into an international network of over 30, many of them formed within the last several years. The decline of film processing created a surplus of cheap, unwanted equipment that, in the right hands, could be repurposed for the smaller-scale operation of an artist-run lab. Saved from the scrap heap, many discarded contact printers and lomo processing tanks have begun a second life as artists’ tools.
For many, this historical juncture between film and digital media has been cause for lament. But among those in the growing artist-run film lab community, the view is considerably more sanguine. Many are younger filmmakers drawn to the creative possibilities of hand-processing in workshops at places like Mono No Aware, in Brooklyn, or Big Mama’s Cinematheque in Philadelphia. For these artists, film offers a range of textures and expressive possibilities not available in digital formats. Others are drawn to the “home-brew” DIY spirit that celebrates the autonomy of artist-run labs. Josh Lewis, who in 2012 founded the Negativland lab in Ridgewood, Queens, describes it as “a more involved way of being a filmmaker. You can’t rely on an industry that serves Hollywood. You need to be a technician and a filmmaker.”
For filmmakers like Lewis, the current moment offers the opportunity to sever cinema from its industrial tether. In many ways, this is the culmination of the avant-garde dream to become fully independent. Experimental film, at least at the level of materials, has been invariably tied to the commercial conditions of the film industry at large, though its output may have more in common, aesthetically and culturally, with the types of objects that circulate in the art world. Now, in response to a collapsing apparatus for the production of film, avant-garde filmmakers are developing the means and momentum to adapt and design their own methods of making films.
Among the many facilities that MTK helped to build was L’Abominable, which has become the largest collective artist-run film lab today. L’Abominable, founded by 10 filmmakers in 1996, set up residence in a basement on the outskirts of Paris. It initially operated with no funding, scavenging equipment wherever it could, and later acquired support from the CNC (the National Center for Cinema and the Moving Image), a branch of the French Ministry of Culture. Hundreds of filmmakers came to use its facilities over the course of its first decade. In 2011, L’Abominable moved into the kitchen of a former school in La Courneuve, a municipality that provides additional financial support to the lab. Even with their expanded facilities, which includes, rare among artist film labs, a continuous processing machine, L’Abominable has not been able to keep up with the demand, admitting a maximum of 40 new members per year. But like MTK, it has done much to assist others in forming their own labs. From 1995 to 1999, it published the newsletter L’ébouillanté, which organized a European network of labs that could share resources and information. Since 2005, following an international meeting of artist-run labs in Grenoble, the website filmlabs.org, along with two listservs, has provided crucial support for maintaining this network and expanding it to North America and Asia.
The most distinctive quality about the current artist-run lab movement is the international circuit that sustains it. In its current manifestation, the artist-run film lab can be both an autonomous unit in Toronto (Niagara Custom Lab), Seoul (Space Cell), Bogota (Kinolab), or other locales, and a satellite attached to an international network. The idea of a collective, which stems in part from the cooperative organizations of the Sixties, persists in terms of the labs’ mostly open-door policies as well as this broader global unit. These collective dimensions are both political and practical. On the political side of things, some labs are more explicitly anti-commercial than others: Anne Fave and Emmanuel Carquille, in their statement “We Remember (1995–2002)” on the L’Abominable website, pointedly describe “the necessity to establish our own means of production” apart from the industrial system, and many labs operate as non-profit organizations, securing grants to not only provide workshops to their communities, but to stage screenings as well. But not every facility operates according to these ideals. Some labs more strictly restrict membership, functioning as barely more than a shared artist studio. And some like no.w.here in London, the Super8 Reversal Lab in the Hague, Niagara Custom Lab, and Nanolab in Australia even offer processing services for a fee, particularly in those areas where commercial facilities have shut down.
In many instances, the idea of the collective, and the sharing of resources, has been more important than the establishment of a physical space. In 2011, L’Abominable was evicted from its cellar headquarters before moving to La Courneuve. Fave and Carquille maintain that it was “a collective, well before it was a space.” Process Reversal, a new organization located in Colorado, has yet to build a workspace, though its members have in the meantime acquired enough equipment to build several labs, and they devote their efforts to touring workshops and assisting the formation of other labs. Rice explains: “We don’t see ourselves as a site-specific organization. Our original intention was to set up some public workspace that all of us could access. Now it’s more of a supportive role, going to communities and helping them to set up their own labs.”
Tuohy and Barrie, in addition to maintaining Nanolab in Daylesford, a rural community outside of Melbourne, are just as busy visiting and setting up labs elsewhere. The pair has visited roughly two-thirds of all the artist-run labs in the filmlabs.org network, and as their activities show, creating a lab also means instructing others in lab work. What was once a set of carefully guarded industry secrets has become a matter of open access, with expertise and salvaged equipment shared among a loose federation of film artists. A typical lab origin story goes like this: two years ago, at the Rotterdam Film Festival, Tuohy, who was there showing his own work, met a group of filmmakers from Indonesia who were interested in setting up their own lab. They had been offered a space in a vacant government building that had, in fact, formerly housed a film laboratory. Tuohy and Barrie visited the facility, helping the filmmakers restore equipment and build a new printer out of various parts to get the lab functional. Its name, Lab Laba-laba, translates to Spider Lab, which is as good as any metaphor for the international web of artist-run labs.
The practicalities of survival are also a part of an enduring DIY ethos. In his workshops at Mono No Aware, which he runs in conjunction with Negativland, Lewis advocates the simplicity of the “bathtub model,” where film can be hand-processed at home. “There’s no secret knowledge,” he says. “You can make any kind of chemistry you need.” Hand-processing has the advantage of being cheaper and having a faster turnaround than commercial facilities, which often require shipment to an offsite processing center. Some artists, like Joel Schlemowitz (Incantation of the Spirit of the Silver Halide, 97) and Tony Conrad (in his cooked and electrocuted films from the Seventies), have made hand-processing part of their performances by shooting, developing, and projecting filmstrips in front of an audience. Among the resources available on filmlabs.org is Helen Hill’s Recipes for Disaster: A Handcrafted Film Cookbooklet, a handmade, liberally illustrated and collaged 2005 collection of tips and procedures for making and processing films on one’s own. It includes a page on Hill’s 2001 film Madame Winger Makes a Film (A Survival Guide for the 21st Century), which also serves as a primer for DIY filmmaking. In it, the animated Madame Winger, a gravel-voiced Southern dame, asks: “When your film lab is reduced to rubble, how are you going to keep making films?” Much as the threat of “nuclear war or gigantic terrorist attacks” serves as the impetus for creating a “film lab bomb shelter” in Madame Winger, Recipes for Disaster was shaped by catastrophic events. The text exists only in photocopied form; the original was destroyed along with many of Hill’s films during Hurricane Katrina.
The decline of commercial film laboratories in the last 15 years was a result not of violent natural or man-made disasters as Hill mordantly predicted, but gradual technological and industrial change. Artist-run labs have sprung up to fill some of these gaps, though these are unevenly dispersed. The majority of independent labs are in France and other parts of Europe; the fewest are in the United States. Paradoxically, the persistence of a few major American commercial labs like Deluxe or Fotokem has undermined the establishment of artist-run labs domestically. Abroad, where commercial facilities closed far earlier, the necessity for independent labs has been around longer. Film manufacturing, which is more or less limited now to Kodak, along with places that process film, have historically had their base in the American film industry. It might seem then that where commercial facilities exist, there can be few or no artist-run labs. Yet, as many see it, the commercial base is necessary for the existence of even autonomous labs, if only for the continued manufacture of 8mm and 16mm film. (Though there are recent efforts to create homemade film emulsions, including the work of Esther Urlus of Filmwerkplaats in Rotterdam and Alex MacKenzie in Vancouver, as well as various emulsion workshops in the U.S. run by Lewis and Process Reversal, these are not enough to sustain the level of production among the artist-run lab circuit.) However atrophied these commercial facilities have become, they function as the de facto base for which any filmmaking can occur. The continued industrial operations in the United States, then, enables the formation of artist-run labs elsewhere. Tuohy observes: “Kodak will last as long as Fotokem lasts. The artist-run film lab needs you to have commercial facilities in the U.S.”
The artist-run lab, however, is not only about reproducing the technical mechanisms of filmmaking. There is an aesthetic range between those that seek to approximate professional standards in processing and those who wish to use the laboratory as the site of experimentation. Moreover, many independent labs have engineered new equipment and techniques. In part, this is a pragmatic innovation: machinery acquired from defunct commercial labs or university classrooms usually has to be modified to fit the scale of the artist-run lab. But it also offers a new set of creative possibilities. Instead of the fetishism or the resuscitation of a “dead” medium (though that element certainly persists, perhaps most commonly in the art world), filmmaking finds new life in the autonomy afforded by the artist-run lab, fulfilling a longstanding avant-garde conception of the medium defined as an artistic one, well before its technological determination. Like more traditional artistic forms like painting and sculpture, it might be defined as a method of making whose tools can be changed and renewed, but whose governing impulse remains the same. Pip Chodorov of L’Abominable writes in “The Artist-Run Film Labs” in last fall’s issue of Millennium Film Journal: “There are no format wars, no compressing or codecs, no backing up or transcoding, no upgrades or obsolescence problems, no corporations to force us to buy new equipment. We are not in an economy but an ecology…” Film need not compete with digital media—and filmlabs.org serves as a crucial communicative infrastructure to the artist-run lab movement—but might coexist as a related form alongside it.
814/1014攝影機手把移除 ( 814/1014 handgrip-removal)
814攝影機目視鏡更換 （ 814 eye piece replace）
814/1014 攝影機拆解 （814/1014-body-disassembly）
Canon 鏡頭更換或修理（ Canon lens-repair-or-replace）
進階攝影機修理（Advanced camera repair）
國家的藝術工作者，成員們以8mm， 16mm 或35mm為主要創作的媒材，也多是以DIY的獨立製片 方式包辦所有的製作過程，舉凡拍攝，沖洗，印製，剪接， 聲音錄製 …… 等等。每個成員都有他們熱愛膠卷的不同的理由，也有他們 個人獨特的藝術語言與想法，也都以不同的方式反映在他們 的作品中。
《Reflect》 許岑竹 | 16mm | 彩色｜ 無聲 ｜ 3.5分鐘 ｜ 2010
《Balga》曾莉珺 | 16mm | 黑白 ｜ 無聲 ｜ 4 分鐘 ｜ 2012
以高反差的黑白膠卷紀錄澳洲原生植物──the grass tree的特質，借由膠卷獨特的語言與光影的呼應，呈現
|《Ai Mi》Klara Rava提供|
《Ai Mi》Klara Ravat ｜16mm ｜彩色 ｜ 無聲 ｜2分鐘 ｜ 2012
Ai Mi 是以一個當代女性的符號來對應中古世紀著名的人物，主教
《Abandoned Interiors》 Esther Urlus ｜16mm ｜彩色 ｜有聲｜ 8 分鐘 ｜ 2004
|《Utrecht 3&4》Daan de Bakker提供 |
《Utrecht 3&4》 Daan de Bakker |16mm |彩色 |無聲 | 6分鐘 | 2010
|《Sciopticon》Hanne van Asten提供|
《Sciopticon》 | 16mm |彩色 | 有聲 | 6分鐘 | 2004
|《Wijk》Daan de Bakker提供|
《Wijk》Daan de Bakker | 16mm | 彩色 |無聲 | 9分鐘 | 2008
|《Interlude》Joost van Veen提供|
《Interlude》Joost van Veen |16mm| 黑白 | 有聲 | 3分鐘 | 2005
《Flow》曾莉珺| 16mm| 黑白 | 有聲 | 17分鐘 | 2013
|《Deep Red》 Esther Urlus提供|
《Deep Red》 Esther Urlus | 16mm |彩色 |無聲 |7分鐘 | 2012
|《Color Writing Me Out》Christelle Gualdi提供|
《Color Writing Me Out》Christelle Gualdi ｜16mm ｜ 彩色 ｜ 有聲｜ 6 分鐘｜ 2006