Pablo Marín

A film about friendship. A portrait of Claudio Caldini.

Multi-exposed images of Colorado Springs in which everything put there by nature and men converge unordered and free. Dedicated to Chris, Frank and Jesse.

A silent city symphony, projected from gorgeous black and white 16mm film. Materia vibrante lets the resonating frequencies of the urban environment create the inaudible hum that keeps the engines of society running, absent of the inhabitants running around like little ants toiling away.

Fragments of a journey in which the geographical exploration merges with little emotional bursts, like panels of a map folded into each other and impossible to separate. A concentration: Berlin, Buenos Aires and the chaotic chances of building something close to a cartography of remembrances.

A layered attempt at daily life: home, clouds, and the river in the background.

Sentimentally turbulent images prompted unconsciously by the end of times. A picture of light and water... and there's some blood in it too, given the course of human events. At some point I will have no choice than to call this a political film. "This storm is what we call progress." -Walter Benjamin

Marín parcels a self-portrait in a geometric motif, formed by vertical and horizontal 360-degree pans from a rooftop in Buenos Aires.

Made strictly by opposing AMIA’s “Disaster Recovery for Films in Flooded Areas” this film was kept under water until its emulsion started to melt, then removed, tightened up and finally dried directly by the sun. The result is what you see, a film trailer, reborn from its very same ashes, in which the few small portions of “images” that remain are overcome by the freed, colorful chemicals. Blocking is, thus, an homage to all the footage lost by the unpredictable dangers of nature and, at the same time, a true song to the beauty in destruction.