One neighborhood in New York City, March 2020: the coronavirus is spreading rapidly, the federal government is clueless, and life seems increasingly surreal. A month later, the city has become an epicenter of the pandemic as the death rate spirals upwards. Then the racial justice protests erupt... Strange Days Diary NYC is an intimate account of living through a disruptive, frightening, yet inspiring time.
The discovery of a VHS tape of the artist's films on eBay triggers obsessive speculation about the seller's identity.
Emma, who lives in a small boring town, writes about her life and inner thoughts in her diary.
Two sisters pontificate on the lives they could have led while observing the current guest, a listless writer, staying in their family’s vacation home in upstate New York.
How can the complex narrative of experience be understood as a coherent whole through the collection of states and thoughts? Since 2016, YR has dedicated itself to the ongoing exchange of its creative processes and focuses on the conscious abolition of any type of judgement. YR uses real life experiences and observations as its basic materials – what emerges is a growing collection of inner and outer realities by way of image, sound and text. The artists see themselves as storytellers who observe and question, document and recycle. This continuum can be understood as a sketchbook without a fixed vision. «notes of forms I» is the first audio-visual collection (journal movie) outside their ongoing blog work, in which YR exclusively uses materials from its artistic processes between January and March 2021
A cow dreams away from the barn routine and goes out into the world, becomes a pop star, talks about world peace in the UN, takes a ride in space before she lands in everyday life again.
One of Jeff Keen's diary films. Keen made many diary films with his daughter, wife and friends in the late 60s and 70s. These were edited in camera and used multiple exposures. They would then be projected in various combinations though usually as a four-screen.
While Andrés searches for old movies in Mozambique, he feels haunted by ominous premonitions, anticipating bad news coming from Venezuela, his country, where his father is gravely ill.
After the passing of her mother, Lorena finds the diary that she kept all her life. The entries allow her to discover a different woman. Having grown up in the worship of her father who fought as a partisan during the war, Lorena realises that she must start digging in the secret story of her mother if she wants to understand aspects of her own life. The pages of the diary feel like a book from another time. Working as a nurse, her mother was covertly working for the partisans passing them intelligence that she astutely acquired from wounded German soldiers by administering more morphine than usually required to ease the pain.
We follow Roach, a 17-year-old ex-junkie and squeegee punk living on the streets of Toronto and Montreal. As part of the filmmaking process, he's been given a camera to document his world. The footage he gets is urgent, because there's a war against squeegee kids. This documentary is from the point of view of the kids themselves, in order to provide alternative voices. Roach's camera is positioned behind "enemy" lines: living in derelict buildings, squeegeeing for money, being hunted by police.
For years, together with his partners from the production company O Quadro, he has been betting on cinema as a tool to explore the typical issues of youth. In this film, Evandro Scorsin turns the cameras on himself as he deals with the dilemmas of the passing of time and the imposition of adulthood. In an exercise in autofiction where cinema and life merge, the film is also a cinematic love letter to the beloved masters (especially Nicholas Ray). Coming and going between two countries and times, it records the vertigo of displacement and the reinventions inherent to an immigrant experience.
A look at past diary entries reveals a teenage girl's struggles with body image and depression
An unexpected event brings together an unlikely group of students.
Writing late becomes usual, we are always too late. Boris was my alter ego and I was his alter ego. Now that he is no longer here, I can be honest.
