“Ideas must be put to the test. That's why we make things; otherwise they would be no more than ideas. There is often a huge difference between an idea and its realization.”
          - Andy Goldsworthy

The deeper I get in the proces off making my thesis film in a class called Advanced Experimental Production, I find myself rejecting the notion of “experimental film” being its own genre. I believe any artistic work of merit, film or otherwise, should challenge the conventions of the art. Experimental, narrative, and documentary are not mutually exclusive genres, but rather frames of reference in the larger scope of filmic expression, all present in the final product.

With this film, I want to expand my personal notion of linear storytelling – the work is primarily concerned with a progression of moods rather than maintaining a narrative of connected scenes. The primary plot is interrupted at numerous points as other elements drift in and out so that a thematic patchwork emerges and each individual element becomes a resounding part of the whole.

This project concerns itself with individuals in time – not in the cosmic sense, but time on the human scale – the handful of decades that are merely a cosmic blip, but a lifetime to those of us who experience them. It deals with the ultimately self-destructive act of prolonged waiting and apathy, a practice I notice increasing with alarming frequency in many people at the cusp of adulthood.

Both in the story itself and in the format through which it is told, I want to ask whether artistic expression is more important for the creator or the spectator – does art need to be seen to be art? Drawing from the school of artists and filmmakers dealing with time and environment, such as Andy Goldsworthy, Michael Heizer, Bela Tarr, and Andrei Tarkovski, I want to use this question of creation to directly challenge those passive waiters, counting the hours until “something happens.”


-Ivaylo Getov