A woman lies on a bed and masturbates for several minutes, then a male partner enters the room and the two begin to engage in various sexual activities. This ten-minute extravaganza, is considered by most film historians to be the oldest surviving "stag film" known to be in existence.

“Metamorphism” is a creative reflection on resource extraction and its effects on the environment. It focuses on mining slag waste from the Blinman Copper Mine in the Northern Flinders Ranges of South Australia, as a way of imaging the incredible forces human society and technology exert upon the earth. This project continues a long-standing collaboration between media artist Grayson Cooke and sound artist Dugal McKinnon, investigating the relationship between geological “deep time” and the technologically amplified time of the human.

“Deforest” is an art/science project that combines environmental critique with material enquiry. In this project, sulphuric acid – a highly corrosive acid that burns to the touch – is used to dissolve photographs of old-growth forest from subtropical Queensland.

The “after | image” project is about personal and material memory, and about archival preservation and dissolution; it features time-lapse macro-photography of photographic negatives being chemically and physically destroyed.

'Frack' explores "virtual fracking" - it uses chemicals used in hydraulic fracturing to dissolve photographs of sedimentary rock.

"I did the takes for this film in the fall of 1966 and in the summer of 1967. I came to know and love the 'old woman' who gave her 'face' in one of the city-run dining halls in Zurich to the first part of the film. I was looking for poets for the film 'Robert Walser' and was hoping to find one in one of the places Robert Walser used to go to decades before, but it proved to be a complete failure. The woman who gave her 'face' attracted my attention because she bad something radiant about her and, despite her advanced age, still had a roguish way of looking at the world. She must have seen me several times before during test takes, because she told me later that she had seen me getting thrown out ('Filming not permitted') and that this had happened at another city-run dining hall. Because the woman appealed to me so much, I asked her on the spur of the moment if she would be willing to let herself be filmed, even though I did not actually know what I wanted to film." (HHK)

The film was realized according to the formulaic concept “TAM 4/71.”

“In Germany, I bought an old 35mm Debrie camera. I spent several weeks working with this camera and found that its mechanics were marvelously thought out and that the way the camera was made was proof of the skilled craftsmanship back then. I developed a procedure which also allowed me to use the camera as a printing machine. The printing process is not so different from the filming process, as far as the transport of the film goes. ... It was a lot of fun to try to exhaust the possibilities of the Debrie. It was not only the mechanics that were exciting, like the works of a wonderful old clock, but the numerous possibilities for the realization of the second part of the film, too. This consists mainly of what has already been shot, but offers at least 50% more experimental manipulations in the printed part.” (HHKS)

The whole country - people of different ages, incomes and professions - watch television. All television programmes - news, talk shows, even soap operas - are devoted to the same thing: bathing in a winter ice-hole. The president catches a talking pike in the ice-hole, a fugitive oligarch hides his millions there, an aqualungist artist organises a performance, and a freelancer becomes Orpheus and Sadko at the same time.

Three actors, a text adapted from Tennessee Williams, a dry studio, with no set design, nothing.

In the Stone House records and recollects a period of life of four years in rural New Jersey. In the latter 1960s, two young guys with monastic leanings leave the clatter of Manhattan’s art and film scene to catch the wave of higher consciousness that was about to change the world forever to find themselves washed ashore in a place only slightly updated from Way Down East. The monastic retreat quickly turned into the weekend getaway for a host of extravagant Manhattanites seeking films and fun. We learned from hitch-hiking guests that the police referred to our haven as “the stone house.” —Jerome Hiler

In the form of folds: separate areas of a piece of fabric come together, touching in new ways, at new angles. Individual sections come forward while others remain hidden. In motion, the surface of a cloth gleams like the delicate impression of light in film. The French experience includes forms from nature that are discovered, singled out or artificially employed. And parallel to this is the search for the natural in art. Leaves and flowers appear as if drawn. One’s own hand becomes an object, a figure. How are the leaves arranged on a tree? It is a culture of the aesthetic, in the original sense of that which refers to perception.

A film-détournement biography of Mao Tse-tung in which the life of the recently deceased Great Helmsman is told in his own words, using quotes culled from various Red Guard publications. The rise to power of the film’s namesake appears as the inevitable outcome of a dialectical logical. Or so the voice-over might lead one to believe. If the usual practice of détourned films is for the soundtrack to undermine the image, here the reverse occasionally takes place.

It was a picnic.

Ulaanbaatar was established as Urgoo in 1639. Founding father of the capital was Zanabazar, Buddhist Leader of Mongolia at the time. Until 1924, the Capital city had been home to the religious leaders of Mongolia. Under Soviet influence however, Ulaanbaatar underwent a dramatic change to become a modernized city.

Smith reflects on life, career, mortality, and legacy through minimalist text, images, and voice, contemplating his generic name's significance.

Using footage from socialist era Mongolia, Nomadtitude deals with the transition of the traditionally nomadic people to a lifestyle of urbanization. A changing of roads throughout the years and the movement of people from all across the country to the cities. A timeline of changing physical and spiritual paths. Primary instincts of the nomads, such as having a deep respect for natural surroundings, were forcefully replaced by socialist dogma and, later, capitalist machinations. This work presents the roads taken and not taken by the Mongolian nomads up until now.

Cleopatra situates itself in the same relationship to Hollywood as the Warhol/Morrisey films of the period. It corresponds to Joseph Mankiewicz's 1963 Cleopatra, starring Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton which Auder's cast watched and used as the starting point for scene by scene improvisation Auder drew his cast from Warhol's ensemble – including not only Viva and Louis Waldon, but also Taylor Mead, Ondine, Andrea Feldman, Gerard Melanga and others.

“Il tocco” means not only “touch”; it can also mean a small quantity, a single brushstroke in painting, the striking of a bell or of piano keys. The surroundings meet the eye. Direct touch releases an interior impulse. Surfaces open to states of being. Out of this encounter arises the image. From the images, an inner place. In the film as in consciousness, the distances of spaces and bodies, the layerings of time conjoin. A house, a city in Italy, traffic, and the movements of people are visibly filmed in the present. But the images embrace a living continuity. The light of one day links my eyes to the eyes of someone who lived here, in the same city, two, three, or five hundred years ago. On a church wall, a sculptor has left an arched curtain in stone. Through the rhythm of its inward and outward foldings, the film becomes “still.”

An artistic free-form exercise in storytelling using stylized photographic images juxtaposed in rhythmic variation.

Mexico revisited, seen in short takes, from the point of view of the women.

Pola Weiss’ first videoart. Abstract, psychedelic visuals with Chic Corea soundtrack.

A story of "La Pasta", a renowned prima donna, and her extraordinary rival.

Take back the airwaves: Mexico’s video art doyenne Ximena Cuevas books herself onto the tabloid talk show Tombola (Raffle), toying at first with whimsical deconstruction until she turns the whole affair on its head by seizing the televisual flow itself.

It can be so bad to be alone that even an artificial heat is better than none.

Cuerpos de Papel is a dense visual meditation on sexuality, loss, jealousy, and intimacy. It uses rich sensual images to weave a digital portrait of an intimate, erotic, and emotional past. As the images transform, we are left with a slippery sense of intangibility and delicacy.

A soft-focus close-up of mouth and lips is set to the sounds of lovemaking. A soft-porn video on how easy it is to get porn.

As sad as it can be to be trapped in a TV show, singing words you don't even know the meaning of.

Dorothy doesn't reach her dream of the Emerald City. Rather, she will have already been over the rainbow by the time she arrives at the worst corner in Kansas.

“In Devil in the Flesh, I look at myself in the mirror, but through the desolate hole of a mask, the circle is broken by the sharp biting angle of a telephone that keeps ringing. I take up the spoon again. There is no form of escape from everyday boredom. Every grammatical punctuation constitutes a search for a break in reality or an intensified state.” (Ximena Cuevas)

The innocence of creating a mirror, only to repeatedly crush it underfoot.

“This is a video of musical terror where I superficially — this is the beginning of a larger project — l look at one of the Mexican phenomena that horrifies me the most: internalized racism, being ashamed of one's own roots. The fantasy of waking up white.” (Ximena Cuevas)

Erase the 1940s. The desire to better appearances. To try to record a love story. It's in this way that a facial can become the biggest remaining pleasure.

Ximena Cuevas dissects an upper-class wedding in Mexico City where the guests fantasize about the exotic faraway dreamscape that is their “Hawai.”

After working in solitude at the studio, the artist leaves, uncomfortable with the idea of having to put on a face for the art world, where they expect you to say something articulate in order to grab the curator's attention.

"I made this video after assisting at a conference where the artists acted like flies in a barnyard. They gathered tropical fruits to make it less disagreeable for themselves." (Ximena Cuevas)

"The life of objects intrigues me. Apparently inanimate, they adopt the souls, actions and lifestyles of their keepers. Here, a bed testifies to what goes on behind the closed door of a decent family's bedroom." (Ximena Cuevas)

A video poem about the nature of social relations and mass media, Half Lies exposes the seemingly innocuous ways we distort the truth. Harmonious families, trade treaties, and current events are among the mediated realities that Cuevas interrogates. Half Lies makes the viewer question the half-truths we encounter daily. The video walks the haunting gray area between documentary and drama, creating a world that is both shockingly grotesque and startingly authentic. Using mass-mediated images, animation, image manipulation, and fantasy, Medias Mentiras interprets the chaotic landscape of politics, urban chaos, and everyday existence.

In this antiqued period piece, the morbid star, Lupe Velez, travels to Hollywood, Guanajuato, and Barcelona, seeking her own death.

The Studio Diaries are a series of 100 short films created throughout 2018, each film taking the form of a diary entry shot, edited and released online in a single day. Over the course of seven months the films capture the workings of our daily creative practice, but more than simply documenting, the Studio Diary Series are creative thought in action. Each film is an investigation into the language of moving images, exploring how narrative and meaning are constructed through the relationship between sound and image.

A film of darkness interrupted by fleeting fragments of Super 8 film, evoking a series of mysterious landscapes and eerie encounters in the foggy countryside. Mist, sheep, blood rituals and a film crew dissolving into the scenery.

A young man disappears amid talk of violence and demagoguery, leaving behind an obscure cache of letters, postcards, and notebooks.

In all of his work, Bussotti makes frequent reference to the body, to sexuality. This to remind musicians — especially classically trained ones — that they are not body-less angels, that they are not just their musical thoughts, that they are still, in the last analysis, flesh and bones. Thus the erotic is not for shocking, but to stress that making music involves the body in a very direct way.

Small nightly monochrome silent landscapes to observe and enter another time to feel how everyday transforms through the gaze.

Montage of different sequences reconstructing the three-color additive synthesis process patented by Audibert, French inventor who began researching natural colors in cinema from 1909. The process used in this film dates from 1923 and consists of capturing three photograms at the same time, through three lenses containing color filters.

In Gazing at the Catastrophe, Ali Cherri reflects on how suffering has become increasingly integrated into his daily life. Witnessing of atrocities, Cherri argues, seems to be an inevitable condition of modernity. The knowledge of war gained by those who have not experienced it firsthand is informed exclusively by mediated images found on the internet or in the media.

Mr. Salloum found a cache of deteriorating commercial film reels, trailers and commercials in an abandoned theater in Beirut in the 1980s. Many years later, inspired by the material as a historical marker of popular media culture during the era of the civil war and a document of western orientalism, Ms. Ahwesh edited some of the fragments together. Beirut Outtakes is a small tribute to endurance, the history of decay and an examination of the export of American product.

Water flows under two bridges, or so it may appear. Since the advent of the industrial age, there has been a heated dialogue regarding the relationship between earth's natural environment and manufactured human spaces. Watercolor (Fall Creek) exists between these necessary worlds, as time unfolds and remains difficult to comprehend.

Follows a young woman as she travels through the strange, surreal passages reminiscent of Dante's Inferno.

Through the prism of his own local position, the young artist views the circumstances, conditions, and rules of the game - how to become a successful artist.

A television set finds its way into the life of a young couple.

A story about a man who appropriates other people’s knowledge and achievements and erects a monument to himself, believing that this is justified and necessary.

Animated film based on the poem Barbara by Jacques Prevert.

Raoul and Beatrice’s eyes meet in the Montreal metro. This sets off a chain of events that will affect the whole city. He's a rock star activist on a secret mission, she's a bohemian who wanders the streets at night, handing out books to the homeless. Every Thursday evening, she meets Constance and Eugène in their small candlelit apartment, for their weekly reading ritual. Constance broadcasts her live-sampled, politically conscious sound art on an independent radio station; Eugène has been working on a novel for years, whilst trying to shut himself off from the outside world. The three young friends all dream of their own poetic revolution, inspired by the situationists, on whom Raoul has modelled his persona.

Stevenson‘s video work is based on an account given by the bodyguard of General Omar Torrijos. The General was the de facto leader of Panama from 1968-1981, and is perhaps most well known for signing the Torrijos-Carter treaty with the US in 1977 which (eventually) secured Panamanian sovereignty over the Panama Canal Zone in 1999. The script for the work is based on the observations of Torrijos’ bodyguard (a mathematician known as Chu Chu) and discusses events surrounding the exiled Shah of Iran’s stay on the island of Contadora. The narrative is interspersed with various asides discussing theories of probability, hence the title. Stevenson’s work hits on the notion of ‘calculation,’ and the cold and strategic approach to foreign policy which can be argued was (and still is) behind so much international intervention, particularly in the region of Panama.

An old man meditates by the sea. A little girl is building a sandcastle. A young couple is frolicking on the beach. The day fades into the evening, as do the memories of youth. Pika päeva ehavalgus (The Light of a Long Day) is a poetic short film about the course of life, shot on 16mm.

An experimental and critical view on the decadence of Honduran society. It practically has no narrative structure, as it plays out as a day-in-the-life-of the eponymous Ángel, a kid who's a shoe-shiner.

A world journey via fax of a self-portrait.

A work on the perception of space, where a video of a motionless figure in a room correlates four different camera positions with four different synthesized tones. We see the inert artist and how she calmly faces the cameras head-on.

Painted pictures of castles, knights and flowers to a poem by Karl Vennberg.

In the seedy domain of Miami’s criminal underbelly, a seasoned hitman embarks on the relentless pursuit of his next target.

Travelogue depicting a road trip from Stockholm to the Berlin Wall. The film is mostly shot from a car window but includes found footage as well.

In the film Ultramarina, Edefalk has placed paintings and objects in the ocean to show describe the infinite space.

An art film contrasting a cat and broken glass with a masked naked woman and her lover.

An animation based on pixels from an image taken with the Hubble telescope, which is in orbit 600 kilometers above the Earth. Pixels from as far away from Earth as humans can see.

Sound film experiments by Swedish engineer Sven A:son Berglund. The sound strip, unlike sound film today, covers almost the entire film strip.

Landscape is Söderquist’s first minimalistic film. Together with Passages – Portrait of a city (2001) and Labyrinth (2013), it forms a trilogy exploring space by means of the landscape and the city. The slow camera shots show the inertia of nature and the temporality of thoughtfulness. The film is cut in motion to give a coherent structure of movement, a kind of course of events, through a multifaceted landscape of rich ferns, swaying treetops, winding roots alternated with reflections in a rippling stream. Landscape is a focused and tightly formed panorama, whose masterly projection of natural sound and cyclical construction are manifested in seasonal color- and light variations and in flowing water.

Le génie civil consists of numerous etchings and photogravure prints from an engineering journal, illustrating the advancement of industrialism in the late 1800’s. The filmed illustrations are allowed to speak for themselves as still images during a prolonged cinematic time, a kind of viewing time. In a reciprocal and dense interaction with a collage of noise from trains, rain, thunder, a ticking clock and organ music, the material is brought to life and the narrative of the film slowly emerges. Because the images in Le génie civil are taken out of their original context and placed in another time and space, they link the past with an ongoing present.

In Söderquist's first film [I frack] In Tuxedo, playfulness and improvisation are combined with absurd humor. An artist steps into an empty studio and begins assembling objects into a tree-like sculpture. The sculpture is adorned with small white paper clouds, puppets and undefinable items; all the while, the studio fills up with new things: a suitcase, a mirror and formal attire. The artist, now wearing a top hat and tuxedo, paints the paper clouds and the wall in a frenzy of activity, ending with his sitting exhausted in a corner surrounded by the mess he has created. The growing chaos, the various layers of narrative and the music of the soundtrack, which was improvised and recorded live during a viewing of the final film cut, interact in counterpoint.

On either side of a life, find a library before and an auction after: consider these figures as the sites for a collection created for the purposes of division and dispersal. From Leonardo da Vinci to Jules-Etienne Marey, practitioners of a certain mode of transcendental empiricism turned repeatedly to combinations of words and images describing the flight of birds. This film-as-bibliography of William Byrd’s library finds its name and shape within a single volume from that collection: Athanasius Kircher’s 17th century encyclopedia, The Great Art of Knowing. Herein you find tangled texts and crossed destinies, filled with figures at once buried deep and tossed high by history, lined with traces of Evelyn Byrd’s hidden romance. Love finds purchase between tightly shelved volumes. In the spaces between the letters. In the lines themselves. An antinomian cinema seems possible; a gentle iconoclasm? The image is always backwards in a mirror. The story unfolds slowly

A Temporary Arrangement began as a simple experiment: to study the human form suspended in water, floating down a river.

Explores the profound effect that his father's blindness had on Rembrandt and the way this influenced his work. "R" deals with the shock of 'dissatributation', a correspondance through Ben Israel between Rembrandt and Milton, and the transcendental quality of light both in Rembrandt's technique and the subject of many of his paintings. It also emphasises the powerful emotions transmitted through his work.

“Call them spontaneous or occasional films. I did not know if I would show this publicly when I filmed. The gift was Luke Fowler suggesting that I film his and Corin’s first child, Liath, while I visited them in Glasgow. The images are left in the order of filming, and the editing is only a few excisions.” (RB)

Late afternoon quiet and a silent figure seated on a bench; the old factories and machinery, warehouses and train lines are part of a Greece, now disappearing.

My starting point was a question about how the places where I have lived have influenced how I see. I returned to one or two locations in Berlin that I had filmed for Diminished Frame in 1970. One was the milestone opposite Schloss Charlottenburg. In 1970, the milestone stood as a somber sphere topped by a Prussian spike, filmed in black and white; now I see it as a golden globe surrounded by regenerate leaves with a view to Fortuna. I also found the statue that I had filmed in Brooklyn in 2002 standing in Leopoldplatz, Wedding. Filming in Berlin and Massachusetts: The turning pages of a child’s version of the Odyssey and the site of a Korean War monument in my hometown, Weymouth, suggest different sides of the same subject: Nostos* or homecoming. The vision of Greece, first awakened in my childhood, remains a source.