See You Never

An homage and reimagining of Norman McLaren’s 1971 film.

Using hand-manipulated images, ECHO ANTHEM attempts to uncover the underbelly of jingoism in 1991 America, and show its destructive conclusion. In a perverse twist, the film invites the viewer to be at once soothed and repulsed by the seething display of the flag and what it leads to. The film establishes a tension between visual beauty and narrative and thematic concerns. ECHO ANTHEM is made up of three sections, each suggesting the same sequence of events. The viewer is challenged to fluctuate between states - from being engulfed by the visuals to being concerned about the narrative particulars and thematic possibilities.

Through interviews and observational footage Work Songs explores how various workers find meaning in their jobs. The gig economy, automatisation and the decreasing power of unions are explored in planned and spontaneous interviews, leavened by finely observed evocations of work places.

A smattering of repeated performances culled from old porno films and hand painted. A man bends over a body, but what we really notice is the texture of the wall behind him. A woman stares back at the viewer with annoyance. On the soundtrack Anais Nin declares: “but while I’m doing this I feel I’m not living.”

A wabi sabi summer in Japan: Observing that which is imperfect, impermanent and incomplete produces a series of visual haiku in teeming street life; Bodies in emotion, and leafprints in the mud.

A walk through Berlin; eyes open, camera ready. Countless vignettes unfold around me, and I imagine storylines for each set piece.

Images shot on walks in the forest with an old, twisted 35mm camera. The film trudged through the camera, on a last mission. I buried the film in the front yard. Let the dirt on the film kiss the dirt in the ground. Maryland humidity wore it down to its wisps. Much later, sound recorded in Brooklyn. Teenage skateboarders smoking cigarettes and jumping off the steps at my local subway entrance. A Russian festival in the park, much singing and speechmaking, all incomprehensible to me. The schism between the country and city, so clear at last.

Fragments and minor moments coalesce and argue in this paean to overlooked and forgotten sketches. Recorded over five years in New York City, Berlin, Barcelona, Athens, New Orleans, Rome, Paris, Havana, Madrid, Budapest and Marseille. A shadow dances, a kite dives into the ground, a smoker exhales in a public market: this is a song about looking when you're not at all sure what you’re looking for. And a testament to the ethos of always carrying a camera even when you don’t know why.

A skewed take on film detritus: 35mm movie trailers rescued from the trash and affected by hand and digitally, holding up a funhouse mirror to the industry of expectations.

Shot at night in Paris through various magnifiers, this most iconic city becomes unfamiliar, and then somewhat familiar again.

Mark Street’s portrait of the late-night bustle of the historic Fulton Fish Market, filmed two years before its closing in 2005, shows a world not usually considered when people speak of “New York nightlife.” The textures of the gutted fish and trays of ice under the fluorescent light are complemented by Street’s hand-painted celluloid abstractions throughout the film. (Screened 2/17/22 at MoMA as part of Millennium Film Workshop: “Nighttime” NYC event).

A day like any other: Brooklyn beckons so they dart out into it. Daughter and father traipse from playground to subway and back home again. The 18-month-old cackles and the 32-year-old tries his best to keep up. They stumble upon a fruit vendor, a street preacher and a wall of city sound. Negative and positive hand-manipulated images collide and shimmer as they walk and talk their way through spring in the city. Maya babbles but her father is mostly silent: he can’t believe that he’ll never meander quite this way again.

A walk after 9/11 allows the filmmaker's children to reflect on what just happened.

The X Y Chromosome Project is the creation of artists Lynne Sachs and Mark Street. In addition to our two daughters, we make films and performances that use the split screen to cleave the primordial and the mediated. After returning from an inspiring week long artist retreat at the Experimental Television Center, Lynne asked Mark to collaborate with her on the creation of a piece in which they would each ruminate on the other's visual, reacting in a visceral way to what the other had hurled on the screen. Lynne would edit; Mark would edit. Back and forth and always forward. No regrets or over-thinking. In this way, the diptych structure is sometime's a boxing match and other times a pas de deux. Newsreel footage of Ronald Reagan's assassination attempt is brushed up against hand painted film, domestic spaces, and Christmas movie trailers. Together, we move from surface to depth and back again without even feeling the bends.

Images culled from a lot of glass slides bought at a roadside antique shop, animated using an antiquated magnifier/projector and a laser flashlight.

An investigation of issues surrounding Scottish independence, nationalism and Brexit. Voices float in and out, agreeing and disagreeing as images shot on the street in Glasgow, Aberdeen and Inverness create the visual world of the film.