brouillard - passage #14, 10 min, 2013
A path that extends from my family’s backyard into Lac-Saint-Charles (Québec City), condensed in multiple layers.
39 walking trajectories from the filmmaker’s parents’ house into a lake nearby are superimposed onto a 1000-foot strip of 35 mm color reversal film. With the aperture just slightly opened, only the brightest spots of each walk leave a trace on the strip which is put under strain by having to go through the camera again and again. On the screen we see a landscape of pulsating light that is both concrete and abstract at the same time, drawing attention to the material and chemical processes of the medium as well as the visceral qualities these can produce. A phantom ride where the phantom seems to be both the camera that registers as well as the world it records. – Alejandro Bachmann
While Larose has developed an overall program that emphasizes technological inquiry that clearly distinguishes human from machined vision and sight from construct, his brouillard series does evince a romantic sensibility underlying these gestures. The series has its nearest relative in the final iterations of French Impressionist plein-air painter Claude Monet’s The Water Lilies (1899-1926). On the surface, both brouillard and the Water Lilies are pitched between the consolation of naturalism and the agitation of a romantic, abstracting formalism. But the similarity between the two projects also lies with each artist’s relation to time and vision. Monet’s series was developed over time from his estate in Giverny, and in his final decade the paintings became increasingly disconnected from their subject. They began to reflect the artist’s failing eyesight, and he even began to repaint earlier stations of the series with his newly ruptured vision; colour and form changed by his cataracts. Like Monet, whose Water Lilies had been painted within the same environment and over a long course of time, Alexandre Larose has forged these walks in all of their repetitions and variations into a holy and singular act—a grand rumination on the rule of time which rustles leaves and melts grass and blurs the memory of our steps. – Stephen Broomer
Read the full article in Backflash here.
Screening co-presented with the Canadian Filmmaker’s Distribution Centre.