Recent­ly I have asked mys­elf if the wind is an off-screen phe­no­me­non becau­se it comes or goes to tho­se places we can­not see in cine­ma it makes our eyes red alt­hough it is not the­re no won­der that it is a phan­tom just like cine­ma a ghost made by a force some call an auteur other coin­ci­dence is the wind visi­ble or invi­si­ble we may see its power the white clo­thes of run­ning women the cur­ly hair of a lost school­boy but do we see the blo­wing lips that crea­te it we can see clouds Grif­fith said that cine­ma was the wind in the trees but wasn’t cine­ma the moving trees alo­ne the ques­ti­on behind this move­ment who told us that it was wind like when Tar­kovs­ky made his wind an off-screen heli­c­op­ter wind-machi­nes wind is an illu­si­on but it can be the­re could never have been the­re like in expen­si­ve and cheap melo­dra­mas what I am real­ly asking mys­elf is: How can I film the wind naked?

To feel the wind I clo­se my eyes (never in cine­ma) to see the wind I see some­thing else it is ima­gi­na­ti­on and it is just natu­ral for any naï­ve film­ma­ker to dream about not nee­ding this ima­gi­na­ti­on to have a came­ra that can objec­ti­fy not only fear but the invi­si­ble and the­r­e­fo­re wind the plea­su­re of dre­a­ming about inno­cent puri­ty: Nobo­dy is real­ly inte­res­ted in that any­mo­re we all agreed on the illu­si­on con­s­truc­tion and our bles­sed sub­jec­ti­vi­ty but why I don’t have an ans­wer just a desi­re: Film the wind wit­hout crea­ting it.

Of cour­se I know and I even enjoy the plea­su­re of the off-screen move­ments its poe­tics the lon­ging for the unseen the glim­p­ses we give to our ima­gi­na­ti­on in a world loa­ded with on-screen bana­li­ty but the wind is invi­si­ble if I just film­ed it I could crea­te ano­ther off-screen may­be even the result would be off-screen and a new lan­guage was born they have cal­led it expe­ri­ence but they were always tal­king about mate­ria­li­ty sen­sua­li­ty never about the expe­ri­ence of things that are not the­re thus the ghost could return to life and we could ima­gi­ne death and time to stop just for one night see them among us until we sleep again with our calm illu­si­ons I will try and I will fail, but may­be I can feel the wind wit­hout clo­sing my eyes again.