Finding My Voice Again: From the Gulf of America to Czechia

As I prepare for my upcoming trip to Czechia, I am thinking about the interdisciplinary possibilities of using stop-motion animation, costume, and experimental cinematography to enhance the humor and horror in a film. With my upcoming short film, Garbage Future, which I’ll create at the Prague Film School, I aim to convey the profound impact of garbage on the world, revealing through magical realism and satire how prioritizing production and consumption accelerates both the physical and the spiritual destruction of humanity. I have also applied for the opportunity to present an AI media workshop at FAB25 Czechia. With this trip and these projects, I am stepping into creative landscapes that support intellectual exploration and creative autonomy. These projects represent my commitment to lovingly challenge while creating community and exploring the joys of storytelling.

My environment profoundly shapes my creative identity and professional trajectory. The oppressive social-organizational-political pressures I've experienced as America moves in a fascist direction have intensified my desire to find a cultural landscape that values artistic dissent. Prague, with its rich history of cultural resistance, offers a compelling alternative to the brutal environment of the American media production scene (the normalization of mental and verbal abuse, the trivialization of unsafe working conditions, the exploitation of below-the-line labor with 12+ hour days, 6 days a week). Through this journey abroad, I aim to develop my film production practice as a medium of critical dialogue, as opposed to a military scurmish that uses exploitive measures to get the job done, resulting in a sterile and commercial product. I am seeking to transform recent personal challenges into accessible stories of connection and compassion, while maintaining a spirit of critical thought and analysis. I hope through this experience I will help develop my resistance and skills to effectively use the medium as a means to resist, reinvent, and speak truth to power, while personally striving to maintain my humanity and desire to connect. 

Prague represents resilience. Filmmakers like Věra Chytilová and Karel Zeman turned limitations into creative breakthroughs, using restrictions to push the boundaries of the medium's language and develop new tools. Their legacy speaks to something I deeply believe in: storytelling has the power to transcend, whether it be physics or societal norms. This is the narrative I am aligning with as I shape my experience moving forward as a filmmaker, proletarian, educator, student, revolutionary, politician, civilian, lover of animals, artist, and advocate for the environment.

My path hasn’t been traditional. I am a lifelong learner, a lover of education, and I have been in one institution of learning or another since kindergarten. My love was unchallenged until my experience in an MFA Film Production Program. While there, I gained valuable experiences, but I also faced a system that, rather than nurturing creativity and supporting the artist, functioned for me as a dehumanizing bootcamp. It became clear that for some, my approach didn’t align with their system, and they had the power. This pushed me to revise what my creative journey could look like and to seek spaces that embraced diversity and allowed for challenging expression, where higher education may not.

For me, Prague embodies a model of film production where creativity itself is an act of freedom—one that respects and amplifies voices that challenge and evolve narratives. Filmmakers here have historically used their art to call attention to unjust systems and to create when silence felt like the easier option. For me, storytelling in Prague becomes a personal act of resistance, an opportunity to develop a practice on my own terms, one that I intend to carry forward in my work.

This journey is about rediscovering my voice and creating a more humane film production process for myself. Through projects like AI-assisted storytelling, I hope to foster pathways for those who’ve been left behind by traditional systems of information and access, as well as to make space for more inclusive, equitable storytelling.

I’m not just seeking collaboration—I’m offering a vision of creativity that is unapologetically human, evolving, and respectful. I believe we must dismantle the elitism and hierarchies that stifle the potential of so many creators and instead create environments where transparency, collaboration, freedom, respect, and varied perspectives can thrive.

I invite you to join me in remembering why we tell stories—to connect with one another—and to reimagine a more humane future of media production.

Neoformalist Analysis of Man with a Movie Camera (1929) d. Dziga Vertov

    "The Man with a Movie Camera" is a silent Soviet documentary produced by

VUFKU and released in 1929. It may be included in a series of films known as "city

symphonies," where filmmakers used experimental film techniques to explore their

cities. “The Man with a Movie Camera'' captures Soviet Russia and Ukraine, filmed

in Moscow, Kyiv, and Odesa, in the 1920s. It takes place from sunrise to sunset,

presenting parallel narratives: one depicting a day in the life of a civilian, and the other

revealing the filmmaking process itself. Introduced as an "Excerpt from a camera

operator's diary," the film begins with title cards stating the filmmaker Dziga Vertov’s

cinematic manifesto:

    “This film is an experiment in cinematic communication of real events without the

help of intertitles. Without the help of a story. Without the help of theatre. This

experimental work aims at creating a truly international language of cinema based on its

absolute separation from the language of theatre and literature.”

    We will be conducting a neoformalist analysis of this film's cinematic style,

specifically its experimentation with and innovation of cinematic language by way of split

screens, Dutch angles, and close-ups. We will evaluate how they contribute to the film's

aesthetic and narrative while considering how Vertov's political ideology impacted his

sensibilities.

    One of the experimental techniques Vertov utilized in “The Man with the Movie

Camera” is the double exposure of the film to create a new and other-worldly multi-layered

image. This technique involves planning two images to impose over one another, filming

the first, rewinding the film, and then filming the second. During the film’s processing,

both images will appear. Vertov would use this technique to create split-screen images,

such as that in Figure 1. of two babies lying side by side in a nursery.

    This was an unconventional tactic for traditional filmmaking of the time, and

Vertov used it for various impacts, such as emphasizing the chaos and movement of a

scene, such as a city street. These two examples of split-screen also stand to reflect

Vertov’s Soviet ideals. The image of two babies lying side by side in a nursery

symbolizes the unity and collective spirit encouraged by Soviet ideology, while the

split-screen streets depict the brutality of capitalism, presenting them as difficult to

navigate, magically chaotic, and destined for conflict and/or impact.

Figure 1: Two swaddled infants appear next to one another, created by the double

exposure of the film, creating a split-screen effect. This image evokes the cyclical nature

of life and the city, drawing parallels between the growth of individuals and the city.

Figure 2: This split screen shows the double exposure of two angles of a busy street

scene. We see the city of the time and its inhabitants dodging cars and one another.

    Dutch angles were another unconventional yet enduring technique Vertov

experimented with to expand the storytelling capabilities of cinema in “Man with a Movie

Camera.” He employed Dutch angles to convey the psychology or perspective of the

viewer, tilting the camera off its horizontal axis to create a sense of disorientation or

unease. For instance, following a close-up of a person’s eye, the film transitions to

Dutch angles and moving shots of the city’s surroundings as observed by the eyes.

These angles disrupt the traditional visual grammar of filmmaking, prompting viewers to

engage intuitively with the scene and evoking emotional responses such as confusion

or anxiety. They also add visual interest to the scene, creating diagonal lines and

skewed compositions that draw attention to specific elements and create a sense of

imbalance.

Figure 3: A Dutch angle of a looming smokestack emitting black smoke cutting

diagonally across the screen, displaying its polluting domination of the environment.

Figure 4: An askew image of a city street, cars, and pedestrians moving quickly about

their business, the buildings, cobblestone streets, and cars blending surreally.

Close-up shots may surprise some to be considered innovative filmmaking

technique, because they are a fundamental part of cinematic language in modern times,

yet during Vertov’s time, the close-up was a new and incredibly powerful tool to draw

audiences intimately into the story. Close-up shots are a type of compositional framing

where the subject fills the majority of the frame and the audience can see it in

detail. Utilized commonly in modern cinema to bring the audience into the world of the

characters by showing their facial expressions or other details, Vertov experimented

with the close-up to include inanimate objects such as the camera’s lens itself. Close-up

shots revolutionized filmmaking during the '20s, when previously filming was often

restricted to wide, static shots due to the equipment and conditional requirements of

filming during the time.

Figure 5: A close-up view of the camera lens, occupying the entirety of the screen, with

the iris staring back at the audience from the center of the image. This composition

communicates the imposition of the "Kino-Eye" on the life being captured.

Figure 6: A close-up of an observer's shadowed eyes, everything else overexposed and

lacking detail, emphasizing their observation of the film’s scenes.

    Dziga Vertov's manifesto, titled "WE: VARIANT OF A MANIFESTO," outlines his

approach to filmmaking and his mission to reject cinematic conventions and experiment

with new forms of cinematic language. He advocates for the use of cinema as a tool for

social change and calls for a more objective and scientific portrayal of reality. At the

heart of his cinematic vision, Vertov celebrates rhythm and movement and embraces

the freedom modern technology awarded filmmakers to go out and adventure. His use

of split screens highlights the interconnectedness of individuals and societal elements.

Dutch angles disrupt traditional visual perspectives and challenge viewers' perceptions,

in line with Vertov's rejection of conventional storytelling techniques. Close-up shots

reflect Vertov's belief in the importance of capturing reality in a way other mediums of art

such as theatre and literature could not. Overall, Vertov's cinematic style realizes his

manifesto principles by pushing the boundaries of cinematic language and advocating

for a more objective and dynamic portrayal of reality.

Evolution of Cinematic Language: A Comparative Analysis of D.W. Griffith’s 'The Lonely Villa' and Lois Weber and Phillips Smalley’s 'Suspense'

David Wark Griffith’s The Lonely Villa (1909) and Lois Weber and Phillips Smalley’s Suspense (1913) benchmark the evolution of cinematic language. The Lonely Villa opens with a wide shot of three robbers, depicted as small figures positioned audience-left in a wide, proscenium frame. Behind them, a halo of bushes, and in the far background, a beautiful, large house.



Fig. 1: D.W. Griffith's The Lonely Villa (1909)

This opening shot sets the stage and is one of the few instances where the film experiments with a deep horizon for narrative effect.

The robbers case the home by having one of them pose as a delivery boy and delivering a letter to the husband that calls him elsewhere. Although the husband gives his wife and three daughters a gun before leaving, the robber is able to take the bullets without her noticing. The husband gives the delivery boy a disappointing tip and leaves, then the three robbers burst through the house's front door.

They attempt to get the wife and her daughters, overcoming several obstacles. The wife is able to call the husband, and he begins his journey to save them. There is then parallel editing between the scene at the home and the husband's journey. Ultimately, the husband is able to retrieve the police and save his family.

In Suspense, a maid quits and leaves the woman of the house to fend for herself during a home invasion by a traveler who finds the key to the house that the maid left under the mat. The wife is able to alert the husband and he returns home, encountering several roadblocks on his way, such as a boy he hits. Finally, the man is able to save his wife.

Advancements in cinematic language found in Suspense, compared to a similar story in The Lonely Villa, include utilizing image depth to create more interesting compositions; breaking away from static wide shots in the proscenium style; and the use of analytical editing.

In the context of mise-en-scène, shallow compositional depth refers to the arrangement of actors and production design at various distances from the camera to create a sense of depth in the image. Cinematography-wise, a shallow depth of field keeps only a narrow plane in focus, causing other elements in the frame to be blurred. This is achieved by using a wide aperture on the camera lens and is often used to emphasize the main subject or object of the shot.



Fig. 1: D.W. Griffith's The Lonely Villa (1909)

This frame displays a shallow compositional depth, it is flat. The wall and window establish the horizon, the children and then the father create visual layers. The entrance of the servants between the front and middle planes adds dynamism.



Fig. 1: Lois Weber and Phillips Smalley’s Suspense (1913)

This image utilizes image depth. It shows the backs of drivers' heads as they chase a car down a road we see winding into the distance.

Proscenium style filming refers to setting the film frame to imitate what an audience member would see at a live theater performance, the edges of the stage replicated by the edges of the film.



Fig. 1: D.W. Griffith's The Long Villa (1909)

A frame showcasing the proscenium style, with a flat background and actors positioned to create depth, reminiscent of a theatrical stage setting.



Fig. 1: Lois Weber and Phillips Smalley’s Suspense (1913)

This example departs from the proscenium style, utilizing a deep depth of field to capture the servant leaving the house, as seen through the planks of the porch roof. This composition adds suspense and intrigue.

Suspense broke away from the static wide shots typical of the proscenium style by using a variety of experimental, yet intuitive camera frames and angles. One of its creative choices was to use eye-level shots, which created intimacy and realism by placing the audience on the same level as the characters. Low and high angle shots were also used to express power dynamics in the scene and between the characters.

Suspense also evolved analytical editing, which was the trend to construct the shots of a film in seamless and evocative ways, imitating the experience of witnessing something in real life. In real life you may enter a grocery store, see the place as a whole, narrow your focus to an aisle, a specific pile of fruit, and then each individual one as you select one. So does analytical editing use film language to narrow the audience's focus, and create other replications of the experience of existing and perceiving. It also emphasizes continuity to maintain the clarity of the narrative.



Fig. 1: D.W. Griffith's The Lonely Villa (1909)

These edge-frames illustrate editing techniques prior to the introduction of analytical editing, establishing shot to establishing shot.

Similar to The Lonely Villa there is parallel editing between the scenes at the home during the invasion and the husband returning in Suspense. One example that shows how the film is innovative is how they cover the driving of the car.





Fig. 1: Lois Weber and Phillips Smalley’s Suspense (1913)

These frames show matching action edits, the audience sees the husband hit a smoking boy on his way home in a MS and then the man helps the boy in a wide.



Fig. 1: Lois Weber and Phillips Smalley’s Suspense (1913)

This frame shows the introduction of a close up.



Fig. 1: Lois Weber and Phillips Smalley’s Suspense (1913)

The audience sees from the maid's perspective through a keyhole as the woman of the house rocks her baby, adding a voyeuristic vibe.

The Lonely Villa and Suspense are both significant markers in the history of the film medium. The Lonely Villa uses proscenium-like frames and creates a stage for the action, while Suspense evolves film language by breaking with the proscenium style framing, developing analytical editing, and choosing alternative camera angles and framing. These films continue to educate future filmmakers on the language of cinema.