Research Statement

Research Questions

• Can the life of a building be apprehended through rhythm, via the use of fixed-frame or time-lapse filming methods?

• By tracing the rhythms of a building onto the editorial structure of a film, can the life of the building be apprehended though its involvement in the representational means?

• To what extent can the life of film itself be apprehended by applying the rhythms of another object onto the editorial structure of a film work?

Context

South Stack is a short artists’ film that explores the rhythm and life of a building: South Stack lighthouse situated in Ynys Môn (Anglesey), Wales. The film utilises fixed-point filming methods (also known as time-lapse or rephotography), to document the same location at varying times of day, with these images then edited together according to a key rhythm of the lighthouse: the ten-second cycle of the rotating light atop the lighthouse. Through the process, this rhythmic element of the lighthouse – the rotating light – and the light of the sky and surrounding environment are interwoven through the film.

As stated above, a key question the film asks is whether the life of a building can be apprehended. This notion of a building’s life is not intended as a romantic or sentimental notion, or to propound mysticism or vitalism. By foregrounding the building in this way, I also do not intend to anthropomorphise the lighthouse. Instead, the project subscribes to a definition of life in Deleuzian terms: life as the power to differ (Colebrook, 2006: 1). This emphasis on difference, foregrounds the contextual relations between things. Further, again in Deleuzian terms, this would also foreground technology, not as an appendage to human life, but technology as life itself (Colebrook, 2006: 7). As outlined in the statement for a previous film work, Highway Code (Manchester 10k) (Ellis, 2019), this relates to developments in fields such as New Materialism and Object-oriented ontology where human consciousness is not privileged over non-human objects.

In the previous work, Highway Code (Manchester 10k), the notion of the city as a living thing was explored and contextualised in relation to other artists and artistic works including John Smith’s Blight (1996) and William Raban’s Thames Film (1986). In terms of the scale of the thing chosen as this living presence, the choice of the city in that film was clearly a large thing. This would be most comparable to Raban’s choice of the River Thames in Thames Film. Hence, in developing the present work, I focussed in on the scale of the thing that I would work with, moving towards a smaller object. This was partly influenced by John Smith’s Blight. In this work, the destruction of buildings, situated in East London, is imaged in such a way that the buildings appear to move of their own accord, as if they are alive. My thinking was also influenced by the work of the artist John Latham. Latham’s own house in Peckham, south-east London, was described by the artist as ‘a living sculpture’ (Flat Time House, 2019). Latham’s house continues to have significance as an active and working space, rather than used simply as a showcase for his work.

After some deliberation, I centred in on a lighthouse building as a suitable subject. The thinking: many lighthouses utilise a rotating light that has a clear and defined rhythm; a lighthouse has a very clear function, a purpose which is fundamental to its meaning; this meaning is linked to the surrounding environment and the form of the coastline. As Edensor states, light is ‘integral to the experience and understanding of specific landscapes and ingrained in cultural myths, habitual sensations, and practices’ (Edensor, 2017: 29). This is the case with a lighthouse, where the building has come into being through a relationship with light although, to add, I have had to circumvent many of the effects light has had on the formation of the South Stack landscape in order to manage the scope of the project. Hence, I gradually focussed in on a suitable lighthouse after some research. South Stack was finally chosen primarily due to three criteria: the fact of its ten-second rotating light; its accessibility to me; the form of the South Stack landscape. To expand on the final criteria – the landscape – the aim was to find a location that would allow the building structure to be clearly viewed in the overall framing, within a landscape view that would include a large expanse of the surrounding environment, namely the sea and sky. This was partly informed by my interest in Romanticist painting and, in particular, the work of English painters Turner and Constable who both focussed on light as a key theme in their practices (Wilton, 2006). South Stack, from the images I had viewed online, met these criteria, particularly from a raised filming position. To note, other popular framings of the lighthouse (such as along the pathway) did not allow as much of the surrounding landscape to be included and would be more restrictive, according to the research I had taken into photographing landscapes (Bauer and Hoddinott, 2013: 90).

Methods

As with many of the works I have produced, the methods are derived from artists’ film and, more specifically, film research centred on cities, sometimes described as ‘city-film’. The method of creating the practice is fundamental to the work, particularly at the editorial stage of production. In effect, I transcribe the rhythms of place onto the edit of the film. The field element of the research was conducted over a two-day site survey employing fixed-point photography, or what is also referred to as rephotography (Rieger, 2011). This is where the same location is filmed from the same position across a period of time in order to emphasise changes in the environment. This method is similar to that employed in Day and Night with Malla whereby fixed-point photography is utilised in a rural location in order to explore the differing rhythms of human and geological time (Arlander, 2018). The method is also sometimes referred to as time-lapse photography, where changes in environments are documented and recorded, particularly notable in the film Koyaanisqatsi (1982).

In the realisation of the film, I have further adapted Henri Lefebvre’s method, rhythmanalysis. Lefebvre is sure to point out that a person’s own body is a key rhythmic sensor and that rhythmanalysis should never lose sight of the rhythms of the body (Lefebvre, 2004: 67). In this work, I felt that the rotating light was a key rhythm and rhythmic sensor of what might be described as the lighthouse’s body. (To note, there was a risk of anthropomorphising the building, with this reference to the body, but I felt that this could be managed in the project’s development.) By focussing in on one element of the lighthouse, many other aspects of rhythm, were not addressed: the history of the lighthouse; the day-to-day running of the lighthouse; the rhythm of people coming and going to the lighthouse. It would not have been possible to address all these parts without overly distracting from the central questions the work aimed to investigate. In adapting Lefebvre’s method for this film work, it was necessary to limit the investigation in this way and focus on this central rhythm of the building. To note, this is in contrast to the previous work, Highway Code (Manchester 10k), where other rhythms were utilised, outside of the key rhythm of traffic light changes, such as the passage of a train across the screen, or a runner crossing a road.

My own rhythms and body also affected the process of filming. As Lefebvre suggests the rhythmanalyst never loses sight of their own rhythms and their own body as a reference point. In a place as remote as South Stack my own bodily feeling and movement affected the process. For example, the nature of the location, with a long climb up and down steps to reach the filming spot meant there was a rhythm to the filming process with me going to the filming point, shooting for around three minutes, and then returning to the car for a period. Due to the weather, this meant a challenging and physically exhausting shoot with extremely changeable weather conditions.

My own distance of travel to South Stack (I live in Manchester) also influenced and affected the film, it being a three-hour drive along the North Wales Expressway. That said, I had already researched the location online and, as mentioned above, I had a clear idea of the angle and position that I wanted to film the lighthouse from, according to the criteria outlined above, and so my own bodily feelings and state of mind were removed from certain decisions, to a degree. For example, following the drive I was under pressure to shoot the film across two days due to budget and equipment constraints, and so had to recce the site on the day of arrival and work efficiently with the hope that weather would not curtail the plan. These factors can affect the approach to film practice, leading to short cuts, or tiredness and frustration with challenging filming conditions. With the planning that I had undertaken the influence of these factors was reduced. Also, having made many short films before, this was not a particularly unusual situation to work within and so, again, the planning I had undertaken came to the fore.

Outcomes

At the start of this research statement, I outlined three questions. The first of these questions asked whether the life of a building could be apprehended through rhythm, via the use of fixed-point or time-lapse filming methods? Additionally, I outlined that I was subscribing to a definition of life that could be categorised in Deleuzian terms: life as the power to differ. I have come to understand, that one of the aims of this film was to explore this definition and why, in turn, I associate the use of fixed-frame and time-lapse filming methods, in capturing images of objects, with the apprehension of the life of these things. My findings in this film, and through the reflection afforded in this statement, are that by imaging the rhythm of a building across an extended period of time, movement and change are emphasised. This movement and change is highlighted more clearly by seeing the object or place across a longer period of time. This might be seen in a time-lapse film of, say, the building of an office block. The central point being: at the level of energy and matter, this movement and change, is the power to differ and, so, by the definition I am subscribing to, the apprehension of the building’s life.

In the course of writing this statement, the second and third questions outlined earlier have become more intertwined in my thinking and so I shall address these together: by tracing the rhythms of a building onto the editorial structure of a film, can the life of the building be apprehended through its involvement in the representational means; to what extent can the life of film itself be apprehended by applying the rhythms of another object onto the editorial structure of a film work? In previous works, I have suggested that this involvement in the editorial process offers a city, or object, authorship and agency in the film process. On reflection, this puts too much emphasis on what might be considered to be human characteristics, to the point of anthropomorphising the object. Returning to the Deleuzian notion of life as the power to differ, the film I have created could be said to unfold at the intersection of difference between the lighthouse, the light of the environment and the edit of the film, with the rhythm of the rotating light being the hub across which these differences are interwoven. The life of the building and the life of the film can be apprehended, are emphasised, though this relational process: the tracing of one form (the lighthouse rhythms) onto another form (the film edit) is the unfolding of difference itself. Moving forward, this would be a trajectory worthy of further investigation, a potential avenue would involve the tracing of the rhythms and patterns of film onto other material structures; that the effects of film could be apprehended through the creation of material structures.

Impact

The film has been screened at Print Stuff Artist Book Festival, York. The work was also shown as a part of Castlefield Gallery Associates, involving a presentation of practice to other artists. A further screening at Hope Mill, Manchester, scheduled for May 2020, has been postponed due to Coronavirus. I have also chosen to seek academic publication of the work so that it can be shared with an academic audience. The work did not receive external funding but has been indirectly supported by Liverpool John Moores University through the use of the Digital Imaging Suite and their equipment, as a part of my work as senior lecturer in the art and design school.

Bibliography

Arlander, A. Day and Night with Malla. (2018) [online film and statement] Available from:  http://screenworks.org.uk/archive/digital-ecologies-and-the-anthropocene/day-and-night-with-malla [Accessed 2 November 2019].

Bauer, M. and Hoddinott, R. 2013. The Landscape Photography Book. Lewes: Ammonite Press.

Colebrook, C. 2006. Deleuze: A Guide for the Perplexed. London: Continuum.

Edensor, T. 2017. From Light to Dark. Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press.

Ellis, A. Highway Code (Manchester 10k). 2019. [online film and statement] Available from:

http://screenworks.org.uk/archive/volume-9-1/highway-code-manchester-10k [Accessed 1 April 2020].

Ellis, A. Soundspace: Notting Hill Carnival. 2014. [online film] Available from:

https://interstitialjournal.com/intermix/ [1 April 2020].

Evans, J. Jones, P. 2008. Towards Lefebvrian Socio‐Nature? A Film about Rhythm, Nature and Science. Geography Compass. 2(3), pp. 659—670.

Gidal, P. 1989. Materialist Film. London: Routledge.

Keiller, P. 2014. The View from the Train. London: Verso.

Kerrigan S. 2018. A ‘Logical’ Explanation of Screen Production as Method-Led Research. In: Batty, C., Kerrigan S. eds. Screen Production Research. London: Palgrave Macmillan. pp.11–28

Latham, J., Flat Time House. 2019. About Flat Time House. [online] Available from: http://flattimeho.org.uk/about/ [Accessed 25 October 2019].

Lefebvre, H. 2004 [1992]. Rhythmanalysis: Space, Time and Everyday Life. Translated from French by S. Elden. G. Moore. London: Continnuum.

Poe, A., (2011) Review Essay: Things Beyond Objects. Journal of French and Francophone Philosophy, Vol XIX, No 1, pp. 153-164.

Rieger, J.H. 2011. Rephotography for Documenting Social Change. In: E. Margolis.  L. Pauwels, ed. 2011. The Sage Handbook of Visual Research Methods. London: Sage. pp.132—149.

Roberts, L. 2012. Film, Mobility and Urban Space: A Cinematic Geography of Liverpool. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press.

Simpson, T. 2012. Apprehending Everyday Rhythms: Rhythmanalysis, time-lapse photography and the the space-times of street performance. Cultural Geographies, 19(4), pp. 423–445.

Wilton, A. 2006. Turner in His Time. London: Thames and Hudson.

Filmography

Blight (J. Smith, 1996, UK)

Fergus Walking (W. Raban, 1978, UK)

Koyaanisqatsi (G. Reggio, 1982, US)

Thames Film (W. Raban, 1986, UK)

Peer Reviews

All reviews refer to original research statements which have been edited in response to what follows:

Review 1: Accept submission subject to minor revisions of written statement
Anthony Ellis’ South Stack is a thoughtful, meditative reflection on the rhythms of the South Stack Lighthouse in Anglesey, Wales. The film asks the viewer to contemplate the lighthouse from a fixed view which remains more or less unchanged; a wide landscape shot of the lighthouse and its surrounding environment, filmed from a steep viewpoint a short distance away. Ellis’ approach, intriguingly, is to allow the building itself to dictate the rhythm of the film editing. The lamp at the top of the lighthouse takes ten seconds to rotate, and every time it completes a rotation, Ellis cuts to the next shot. The film’s temporality is thus defined by the affordances of the structure itself – a strong concept, complemented by the decision to focus on a single building, defined by its function within the coastal environment.

There is a self-reflexive element to the filmmaker’s fixation with light – which as he acknowledges, is essential to the practice of filmmaking itself. With the lighthouse sustaining a steady, repetitive rhythm, the viewer inevitably begins to focus on the changes of the light and weather in the environment surrounding it; on the random, erratic, contingent qualities of the landscape. The ten-second shots are well-selected (from three-minute takes) to demonstrate these characteristics of nature: the changing colour of the sky, the movement of the sun, the evolving intensity and colour of the sunlight, and the appearance of birds. The relationship between the structure and its surroundings is, in some sense, one of tension as much as interdependence. The rotating beam of the lighthouse connotes life, security and reliability, but the structure also appears rigid and immobile in comparison to, say, the unpredictable, wind-battered motion of the grass in the foreground.  

The supporting statement provides a solid contextualization of South Stack in relation to the filmmaker’s previous work, and clearly outlines the intention behind the film’s central concept. But it does not fully unpack the significance of what has been achieved here; namely, to enable the characteristics of the architecture itself to dictate the film’s form or aesthetic. The statement frames the project in terms of concepts which, while competently outlined, seem somewhat tangential to the main thematic focus of the work itself, which is to contemplate buildings, environments, light, and temporality. The author begins to take the analysis in a far more original direction when he refers to the possibility of the lighthouse being a collaborator on the project, and questioning whether the life of a building might be apprehended in a project such as this. This evokes a notion of film practice which might challenge anthropocentric bias, and binary divisions between active culture and passive nature. It’s a perspective also reflected in the film itself, which is far more successful in intuiting the viability of more diverse ontologies.

Anthony Ellis’ South Stack is a thoughtful, meditative reflection on the rhythms of the South Stack Lighthouse in Anglesey, Wales. The film asks the viewer to contemplate the lighthouse from a fixed view which remains more or less unchanged; a wide landscape shot of the lighthouse and its surrounding environment, filmed from a steep viewpoint a short distance away. Ellis’ approach, intriguingly, is to allow the building itself to dictate the rhythm of the film editing. The lamp at the top of the lighthouse takes ten seconds to rotate, and every time it completes a rotation, Ellis cuts to the next shot. The film’s temporality is thus defined by the affordances of the structure itself – a strong concept, complemented by the decision to focus on a single building, defined by its function within the coastal environment.

There is a self-reflexive element to the filmmaker’s fixation with light – which as he acknowledges, is essential to the practice of filmmaking itself. With the lighthouse sustaining a steady, repetitive rhythm, the viewer inevitably begins to focus on the changes of the light and weather in the environment surrounding it; on the random, erratic, contingent qualities of the landscape. The ten-second shots are well-selected (from three-minute takes) to demonstrate these characteristics of nature: the changing colour of the sky, the movement of the sun, the evolving intensity and colour of the sunlight, and the appearance of birds. The relationship between the structure and its surroundings is, in some sense, one of tension as much as interdependence. The rotating beam of the lighthouse connotes life, security and reliability, but the structure also appears rigid and immobile in comparison to, say, the unpredictable, wind-battered motion of the grass in the foreground.  

The supporting statement provides a solid contextualization of South Stack in relation to the filmmaker’s previous work, and clearly outlines the intention behind the film’s central concept. But it does not fully unpack the significance of what has been achieved here; namely, to enable the characteristics of the architecture itself to dictate the film’s form or aesthetic. The statement frames the project in terms of concepts which, while competently outlined, seem somewhat tangential to the main thematic focus of the work itself, which is to contemplate buildings, environments, light, and temporality. The author begins to take the analysis in a far more original direction when he refers to the possibility of the lighthouse being a collaborator on the project, and questioning whether the life of a building might be apprehended in a project such as this. This evokes a notion of film practice which might challenge anthropocentric bias, and binary divisions between active culture and passive nature. It’s a perspective also reflected in the film itself, which is far more successful in intuiting the viability of more diverse ontologies.

All reviews refer to original research statement which has been edited in response.