For some time now I have been obsessed with the idea of ‘the great work.’ A necessarily all-consuming title or phrase, it implies quite a lot, but, if understood on its own terms, in fact clarifies a lot for us as we move through this thing called life.
Ignoring for now the alchemical implications, which should be more than obvious, I’d like to approach it backwardly through cinema, as one would punch a hole in the side of a building and call it a door. By now I have worked in various crafts, schemes, and vocations, and have first hand exposure to quite a lot. I have released music albums, a perfume, short stories, dozens of essays, a novel, and have done other visual work such as advertisements; beyond this I have had a litany of jobs, both white collar and blue collar, and because of this have met many kinds of people. Put altogether, I have by now a rather clear idea of what I like or don’t like; that is, until recently, when I realized that I had an almost impossible aversion to cinema, which has been overcome.
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