Join LUX & Club des Femmes for a weekend of films, introductions, memories, a zine and an exhibition of ephemera and texts to celebrate the lives and work of feminist experimental artists Barbara Hammer and Carolee Schneemann.
Screening of “Tip of My Tongue” at the Film and Video Poetry Symposium
This collaborative project is an ongoing collective archive of interviews with feminist experimental filmmakers started in 2017 by feminist filmmaking students at UC Santa Cruz and UC Davis. Our students were invited to each select a filmmaker, research their work in detail, and invite the filmmaker to have a conversation with them.
While the women’s film festival in Taiwan has an almost-20-year history, and many female directors in Hong Kong have been making their marks since the 1930s, women’s cinema is still in its infancy in mainland China. Although they came from different backgrounds, Ying Xin, Dan Li, Juan Jiang and Zhao-Yu Li shared a common desire to do something about women and arts, so the four first launched the first China Women’s Film Festival covering four cities in 2013.
Workers Ricarda and Maria of Sunshine Shirt Laundry Center were unjustly fired. Owners Sharon and Huanxin Chen sent letters to the workers stating that their jobs were terminated because the business had closed.
These two shorts give us insight into seven women: Barbara Hammer, Maya Deren, Carolee Schneemann, and Gunvor Nelson as subjects and speakers; Lynne Sachs and Deborah Stratman from behind the camera. Watching both films, I wonder what connections there are to be drawn. Does the recent surge in filmic portraits of female trailblazers point towards a ‘feminine sensibility’, long overdue for historical recognition?
A year’s worth of to-do lists confronts the unavoidable numbers that are part and parcel of an annual visit to the doctor. The quotidian and the corporeal mingle and mix. Family
Let us begin with the statement “English is spoken here.” I’ve been thinking about what the implications of this pronouncement might be in terms of an anchoring of a singular language and the drowning of others.
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.
Jonas Mekas died yesterday, but with this close to a full, feisty and mostly extraordinarily fun life, he leaves us all with so much. From an early age, Jonas came to understand that living the life of an artist to the very fullest meant that you were expected to create something that would last beyond your last breath. Before anyone was really using the word “community”, Jonas was building a formidable infrastructure that would be the very foundation for the survival of the personal cinema he loved so dearly.
