Vanishing Point

With Vanishing Point, I wanted to tell a personal story, untrammeled by digital effects; a story that would immerse the viewer in another kind of world, a strange world that was actually made up of very normal things. My iPhone gave me the technical ability to respond to the immediacy of experience; to watch and record life unfolding. I wanted to search beyond the primacy of the ordinary, much as a painter or a poet searches for that unique revelation within a single moment in time, an apple or a pear on a plate, a smile or a gesture.

The only formal parameters that I applied, which slowly developed over the eight-year shoot, lay in the duration of each shot and the fixed use of the camera, no panning or zooming. Every shot eventually became no longer than thirty seconds in duration, giving the subject in front of the camera its own natural space and a fixed time in which to unfold. Unconscious themes began to appear and re-appear, strange unseen connections produced unexpected meaning. Time itself became the story, as the characters (including myself) grew older.  A Vanishing Point is that point where time and space together recede into the distance forming at once an end as well as a new beginning.

Cinema has the power to heal. For me, that process of healing begins with the viewer. The experience points towards a renewal of vision, feeling and comprehending. This film presents a form of meditation or mindfulness, a cleaning out of old and unwanted fears and preconceptions. The initial process is even uncomfortable as our normal reactions and ways of responding are questioned, the way our minds wander, the way our attention is constantly distracted. Vanishing Point demands an unfamiliar openness from the spectator; it demands a slowing down. It may not be for all, but will reward those who take up the challenge and let their unconscious flow freely into a new and unfamiliar experience.  Vanishing Point is a journey of self-discovery.