Hannes Schüpbach: Blinking The Mind’s Eye
by Vincent Katz

The films of Hannes Schüpbach are perverse. They work against film’s seductive nature, that calms us by lapping us with imagery, which, even when difficult, partakes, in the best cases, of life’s inevitable rhythms, and therefore comforts us. Schüpbach, by contrast, strictly controls what we see, tantalizing us with glimpses of scenes of solidarity and repose, that are shattered, or rather, dissected by the editor’s scalpel, leaving us with the impression not of witnessing or experiencing, but of being absent from the scene referred to.

One of the most striking elements in Schupbach’s short films is the willful and precise use of black. Not only does the black frequently separate images, unlinking what came from what follows; it also is subject to its own pacing. The blacks themselves have different lengths and thus take on more active tonal value. Superimposition is frequent, and the filmmaker replays shots or variations on shots, so that progression is not linear, but cumulative, like emotion.

The films are silent; music does not fill in their stops. The stops, or limits, are felt. On first viewing the films can seem abrupt; on repeated viewings, their rhythms become better understood. Below, I offer my writings on three of Schüpbach’s films. They attempt more to reflect the feeling of the films than to recount their elements.

 

Portrait Marriage 2000
9 min.
Starts with shimmering, delicate images. Takes shape with the appearance of a path through grass. The path is taken. People are glimpsed; snatches of nature. Camera moves on objects, giving shape to people’s well-dressed animation. Water on rock; stone structure. Is that a church? Their coats of flowers; walking through water. Now walking; now dancing. So well-dressed, so beautiful. She in red, he in white. Leaving, on stones. Drinks, balls are rolled, through trees. White geese preen. Tablecloths, plates of food. Fresco of a banquet; actual feast. That pattern returns.

Spin 2001
12 min.
Flower (Foxglove?) in late light. A shape made of light, oblong hovering. Hands, arms, sitting. Same flowers in sun. Out-of-focus distance (mountain and sky -- a projection filmed?). Heavy rain over the plants. The mountain. Still blurry, then suddenly sharp with sharp clouds. The play of shapes. Rhythms of hard and soft, clear and blurry. What one is given to see. Projections, and a slit that passes, providing a tracking glimpse, magic-lantern-like but no totality, no resolution. The hand, the arms, the shirt, the tea. The flower, wet, in sun. Smell of earth. A relatively long shot of flowers, changing focus.

Finally, a tiny glimpse of a fragment of the face. Then back outside, a long shot of trees and grass. Are those red, ripe apples on that tree? White shapes flapping in breeze as wipes. A white-haired head; grass with little flowers. Sneakered feet walk; white head proceeds down a road into indistinct distance. The face seen clearly, front and side. The face remembered.

Toccata 2002
28 min.