Photorealism is standing at the window and watching the rain land on the industrial-courtyard roof, with the gravel-on-concrete floor, and thinking “This isn’t photorealism, this isn’t photorealism at all, that’s something else.”

Violence is a man punching another man, a man punching another man and kicking him in the chest. So that you don’t really know which man is punching which man, so that the camera zooms in so close and fast that you see the action which is only explained by the motion after it, the movement of the violence-ghosts explaining the results of the last scene.

Realism doesn’t exist and you sometimes think that it does or that it could, but it doesn’t yet, not yet.

2 Comments

  1. Thanks, and no problem. It comes when it comes, or when you’re ready to make it come.

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