In Tip of My Tongue, director Lynne Sachs explores the dynamism of memory through poetry, archival footage, and personal interviews; her artful collage of moments intelligently portrays the beauty that often lies hidden in the minds of those around us.
Lynne Sachs’ latest film Tip of My Tongue, which has its world premiere as the festival’s closing night selection, is a beautiful, poetic collage of memory, history, poetry, and lived experience, in all its joys, sorrows, fears, hopes, triumphs, and tragedies.
We are gathering CINEMA OF RESISTANCE videos from all over the US/ World beginning with the historical Jan. 21, 2017 Women’s March. Be a part of our video/film collective. It’s extremely easy.
“To mark her 50th birthday, filmmaker Lynne Sachs gathers a group of her contemporaries—all New Yorkers but originally hailing from all corners of the globe—for a weekend of recollection and reflection on the most life-altering personal, local, and international events of the past half-century, creating a collective distillation of their times. Interspersed with poetry and […]
As part of the Sub-Indie Cinema series programmed by Professor Roger Beebe from the Department of Art, join director Lynne Sachs for a screening and Q&A of her film, Your Day is My Night.
Explore the work and process of Sachs’ intermedia practice at the DMCA. This event is sponsored by the Digital Media Center for the Arts, Film and Media Studies, and Films at the Whitney.
For the first three years of my twin niece’s and nephew’s lives, I used my 16mm Bolex camera to film them growing up in New York City with their two dads (my brother Ira Sachs and his husband Boris Torres) and their mom (Kirsten Johnson). The film ends with a Gay Pride Day embrace.
Ethnography is describing the Other. In the 1920s, writer and anthropologist Zora Neale Hurston reacted to this established view with her own artistic and scholarly works on everyday cultures in her own home in America’s black south. Hurston political and poetic studies of “folk cultures” that were mostly disparaged at the time are an expression of unmitigated appreciation and a way of taking up a position within the debate on “high” and “low” art in Harlem between the wars.
My first viewing of Bruce Baillie’s Mass for the Dakota Sioux (1964) sent a shiver through my body and mind that ricochets to this very day.
I’m a graduate student in the Nonfiction Writing Program at the University of Iowa. I’m enrolled in an essay film class this semester, and this week, I’m putting together a presentation on you and your film, States of Unbelonging.
