yggdrasill whose roots are stars in the human mind

stan brakhageyggdrasill whose roots are stars in the human mind - 1997brakhage and landscape artimages from fred camper's site

any gathering of dust motes in the light records the passage of angels

stan brakhage - the wold shadow - 1972angels... move thru the shadow in a diffraction of light -the doors of illumination / home of angelical forces (as georgemacdonald would have it: "... home ... is the only place whereyou can go out and in.") ...... and the shadows of shadows are the shadows of angels ...... and the fixed instants of constantly changing shapes are the pic-tures they take of

now light blue, now green, almost always pellucid

a still every 60 seconds from larry gottheim's fog line - 1970,including first and lastthe image of the railroad on the shore of the pond figures an ambiguity at the heart of walden. man-made power, the machine with its fire, smoke, and thunder, is juxtaposed to the waters of walden, remarkable for their depth and purity and a matchless, indescribable color - now light blue, now green, almost

ron rice - chumlum - 1964music - angus maclisemusic director - tony conradsoundtrack(this is the first in the sound/music from film series)

first we must deal with the light of nature, then with nature of light

trees found in saul levine's note to patti - 1969title from stan brakhage's a moving picture giving and taking bookfrontier press - 1971

silent version 1750-1950

new film in progress - due august in the silent version,late 2009 in the sound version

trees from michelangelo antonioni's il grido - 1957cinematography by gianni di venanzo

hope that the stars know

window please watch the sun gohope that the stars know it's time to shine.daydream - be born on dark wingslet every sky sing this song of mine.- townes van zandtbe here to love me: a film about townes van zandt - margaret brown - 2004

a sound of some new unknown life

why is it so unutterably beautiful? it is pure music, but for me it has so many implications, - hard to define - of course it is enigmatic, all great art has its secrets -; it has all the deep mysteries of the earth and its environs - for me, the agony of the old primitive earth stirring restlessly at the beginning of spring; something tremendous is going on in the earth, but i do not know

through naked branches

winter tree, carte postale yes - we are.are simply hereand filled by a slow songwe knew existedthat no ear has ever heard,but that was here before roots took holdand before day emerged from its skin.text by tarjei vesaas, from ved neste skar (the next pass) in lykka for ferdesmenn (wanderer's happiness), 1949title from through naked branches - selected poems of tarjei vesaas, princeton university

where love illuminates (and leaves materialism in remnants)

otar iosseliani, aprili (april), 1961lights illuminate, water pours, while footsteps amidst tables and chairs bewilder and confuse, musicians play, doors open and close, only to leave materialism in ruin, and return to one's love.

glimpse of the city through glass walls

gustave doré, view after thousands of years(london destroyed)woodcut, 1872 champs-elysées, jardin d'hiversection through the nave, showing fountainca. 1850thierry, lithograph, champs-elysées, jardin d'hiver, ca. 1850victoria regia house, berlin-schönebergengraving (built 1882, destroyed 1907)joseph paxton, engraving of interior regia houseat the great conservatory, 1849(paxton's daughter is shown

and then everything receded from him (invisible birds)

and the sound of the wind died away and then like the murmur of a lullaby or pealing bells rose up again from the depths of ravines and tips of fir trees and a faint reddishness climbed into the deep blue and small clouds drifted by on silver wings and all the mountain peaks, sharp and firm, glinted and gleamed far across the countryside, he would feel something tearing at his chest, he would

he was almost forgotten, in fact, within a few years of his death

lake lugano - 1885 + two detailsfrom edward lear as a landscape draughtsman by philip hoferthe belknap press of harvard university - 1967

the walls are excellent & high & upon an horizontal line

in 1795, when shirley, massachusettes, was a community of 200 shakers living on three thousand acres, an outside observer recorded, "the walls are excellent & high & upon an horizontal line, & as straight as they can be laid."inspired by visionary experiences, the gift drawings bridge the heavenly and the earthly spheres....imaging heaven as a perfectly balanced array of circles, squares, and

invisible birds (tiny feet extending)

what birds plunge through is not the intimate space in which you see all forms intensified. (out in the open, you would be denied your self, would disappear into that vastness.)space reaches from us and construes the world: to know a tree, in its true element, throw inner space around it, from that pure abundance in you. surround it with restraint. it has no limits. not till it is held in

an ornament of radiating petals

images from encyclopédie des formes fruitières, "les modes de conduite": un métier, un art, une passion by jacques beccaletto - écoles nationale supérieure du paysage/actes sud - 2001(that resemble the leaflets of a palm - palmette)

invisible birds (the lost estate)

sometimes, for a few steps, my feet are resting on a bank of fine sand. and in the silence, i can hear a bird: i think it's a nightingale, but i must be wrong because they only sing in the evenings... this bird is relentlessly repeating the same phrase: voice of the morning, a recital in the shade, a delicious invitation to a journey between the elms. invisible and obstinate, it seems to be

invisible birds (trees as moons)

behind the quivering reeds stirs the couch of birds-the green is near to black, the silver slightly blue. the tree-trunks are like old wall-stones, the leaves about like shadows(via gossamer)

invisible birds (forthcoming)

eugène atgetjosef sudekhenry fox talbotrichard longas if you were the voice that moves up and down the rungs of the world, between earth and sky, never beyond, always in the infinite globe, free but inside it, over there, close at hand, where the silver branches fork, awaiting nothing, fleeing nothing, traveller whom a second's joy, for no reason at all, steals from the journey's movement and