{"id":8237,"date":"2023-11-23T18:46:14","date_gmt":"2023-11-23T08:46:14","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/yumcreative.yumstudio.com.au\/?p=8237"},"modified":"2024-02-24T15:39:56","modified_gmt":"2024-02-24T05:39:56","slug":"rear-view-retrospective","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/yumcreative.yumstudio.com.au\/rear-view-retrospective\/","title":{"rendered":"Rear View Retrospective"},"content":{"rendered":"

Come Home Journal #37 FInal<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

A wrap up of the reckoning of the journey (turas<\/em>) to tour Dancing Shadows <\/a>in Ireland, a retrospective of my film works as part of the Come Home<\/a> project.<\/p>\n

The note in my journal reads:<\/p>\n

Write about how I feel about my work. How I am moving away from others opinions of it, of me.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

It’s a great prompt, but it’s not the first line of an article. So to begin I close my eyes and see that words are tears waiting to be written*. Someone, not me, said that and I have no idea who. But it sticks. So I realise I have many words yet, because I remember each tear as it fell.<\/p>\n

This year was a plague that blackened the sky. The sound it made, eerie and incoherent. And all through it I knew when I reached out my hands my people were there to remind there were edges and finishes. And when the sky cleared I saw myself in it, flying, Literally. This journey touring my films was the result of life-force. There is a serendipitous language and energy at play here:<\/p>\n