Stephen Sprott
World Cinema

For a very long time I’ve been pickpocketing very short bits of film. I look for shots that are a bit free-floating, slightly disconnected from the rest of the story, what one calls ‘cutaway’ shots. That’s what they are asking for, to be cut out, set loose. And now that I have lots and lots of them, it’s interesting to see how they behave with one another. One can splice them together in any number of ways and find that they are quite expressive. Cutaway shots are peripheral by nature. They suggest the environment in which the story takes place and therefore consist largely of streets, houses, storefronts, cars, cityscapes, landscapes, sunsets. Cutaways show us what the weather’s like. Dark clouds converge, rain falls, and then they part. Or course these things help convey the mood of the story being told and they give a kind of proof that this particular fiction happened in a certain place in the world and at a certain time. On their own though, shorn of their romance films, sunsets are suddenly free to just be sunsets. They join a near endless series of vignettes of the planet conducting it’s affairs. Sometimes these shots are rapturous, reveling in the vast and ephemeral glories of light and shadow, color and texture. Other shots are dim and drab, catching the workaday rhythms of life. And sometimes they are foreboding. Plumes of smoke, parched land, floods, industrial waste. When they come from films now decades old, watching them feels like scrolling backwards through countless alarming news headlines. One despairs to consider this and to imagine the dystopian scenes that loom ahead. Nonetheless, all of these fragments represent discrete moments in the world that can never again be repeated. Each one like a single breath.

Stephen Sprott

February, 2024

Collage by Stephen Sprott

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Elein Fleiss
Saturday March 2nd 2024

Billions of human beings lived this day in the most diverse ways, happily or tragically, with routine or exceptional events. This is how my day developed.

I woke up a little later than usual, at 9:00. My daughter was at her father’s for the weekend so I was alone in the house with my three cats. The first thing I saw was my cat Mitsu’s face. She was trying to get under the bed quilt but it was time to get out of bed. 

I turned my shower on and quickly noticed two things – there was no steam and the bathroom itself was freezing. I soon discovered that the radiator was cold and there was no hot water. The staircase light was not working… not the greatest start. Fortunately I solved the problem quickly, turned the electricity back on and heard different and familiar sounds in the house—fridge, computer, printer, boiler, all starting up again. 

Having to wait for the water to heat, I prepared some of the green tea my friend Aya brought me recently, had breakfast— avocado, prosciutto and bread—and after that, a coffee with spices. For the past few years I’ve been adding spices to my coffee (cardamom, cinnamon, nigella, coriander seeds), I grind them every other day so they are strong and fresh. 

I went into my very small garden to check if anything new had grown. Spring started a few weeks ago, in February, which is unusually early. 

Then I spent time on my phone, searching for vintage clothes, something I do very often, for my shop and for myself. I’ve become passionate, or rather obsessed, always trying to discover some minor forgotten brands. My life is like a permanent treasure hunt these days. I admit it’s addictive but I will probably get tired of it at some point. 

I also had a glance at the terrible news of the world, online. 

After that I could finally get ready, cleaned. I wore a pair of Cosmic Wonder jeans with a Yohji Yamamoto sweater my mother gave me, and that she customized. Who would dare customize a Yamamoto piece, transforming a cardigan into a sweater? My mother did! But I have to admit the result is interesting. 

I went to my store, which is at the corner of my house, to bring in some new clothes. Sunday morning, because it’s market day in my village, is the biggest day in the store, so I needed to have new items. 

If I truly listed every little thing I did on this day, this text would be pages and pages long.

At 4:30, I left my home and went to find my car. I rarely remember where it’s parked but this time I found it quickly. I drove to Verfeil, a village 20 minutes from here, where I had an appointment with Flore, a friend of mine and one of the three women I am photographing for my new project which will take place next October in Tokyo. Flore is a beautiful woman, a carpenter and a dancer. A few months ago she gave birth to a second child. When I entered their home, François, her boyfriend, was in the front room and we chatted for a while. I found Flore in the garden. I had brought a white wool coat for her to wear and we left for a walk. She brought a basket and started to pick some wild herbs. The light was grey so I didn’t shoot a lot but it was a good start. In the meantime Flore had filled a basked with wild greens. We went back to her home, had tea and some strange gluten-free chocolate cake. It tasted good.

I drove back to my village, went home to pick a bottle of wine. I arrived a little late at my friend Caroline’s for dinner. Capucine and David were there, the three of them were having beers. Caroline is an architect, her flat is on the top floor of a medieval house that she entirely restored and where she created several flats. On the ground floor, there’s also a good secondhand bookstore. Capucine and David are political activists, so we talked about politics mostly. But they’re funny too, we laughed a lot. Caroline made a vegetable curry, very tasty. We also talked about Studio Mumbai’s exhibition that I had just seen in Paris, following Caroline’s advice. A beautiful exhibition of Caroline’s favorite architect that she couldn’t attend, so I told her what I saw.

Before going to sleep I read some pages from An American childhood by Annie Dillard. I recently discovered this American genius and have been reading several of her books with passion.

Saturday March 2^nd  2024 is past.

Elein Fleiss

March, 2024

*Le Batèl, a store that sells vintage clothing, antique objects, tableware, books, etc. that Elein opened with her friend, artist Andy Wilkinson.

Photography by Elein Fleiss

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Hanayo
Spring is almost here

Awataro’s* garden has a fence.

I heard that the animals come down to his garden.

I was very concerned that the wire fence was out of proportion to the thatched roof of the house.

When Awataro visited my garden in Nogata, he admired my wild roses, japanese honeysuckle and wisteria ivy.

We talked about twisting those ivies around the fence of his garden one day.

An elongated, bright jade-colored moss-like plant arrived at New Year’s from Awataro.

He told me to decorate the tokonoma with it.

Every New Year’s Day in Edo is surprisingly cloudless and sunny.

The moss is glistening in the tokonoma on the second floor of our house.

Its leaves are dry and the first day of spring has passed, but they shine just the same.

I decided to send the promised set of plant seeds as a thank-you.

In addition to the ivy, I have seeds of kibana cosmos, hagi tree, fujibakama plants, akigiri leaves, and japanese morning glory that will look good in the garden throughout the year.

I also included some sheet music of Hauta, a traditional Japanese folk song that I am currently practicing.

When I met him later, he was very pleased with the parcel.

However, I’ve heard that keeping a garden in the mountains is not a simple task.

It is a constant struggle against the weeds.

If the weeds are not cut with an electric mower at least once a month, they quickly take over.

When that happens, mamushi pit vipers may enter the house, which can be quite dangerous.

Perhaps my dream of living in the satoyama is a foolish one.

*AAWAA

Hanayo

February, 2024

Photography: Hanayo

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Masaho Anotani
LINALSASI

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Video letter from Miranda July

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Ni
AAWAA

I have begun a study of clothing in Tamba. When I say clothing, I am thinking of the nightgowns and bedclothes that were made long ago in the ancient Tamba province. 

In the past, the ancient Tamba Province was a large kingdom that stretched from the Tango Peninsula to Miyama in Nantan, which is where I live, and to Hikami and Taki in Hyogo Prefecture. The Tango Peninsula was the center of the kingdom and many ancient burial mounds and ruins can still be found there. Many Jomon-era ruins have also been discovered, giving one a sense of the life of the Jomon people. It is said that the name “Ni” comes from the brownish-red soil of Tamba and Tango because of its high iron content. Living in the area, one can see patches of red soil and reddish stones in mountain streams. Some of the well water also has a reddish tinge.

Red has been considered a precious color since primordial times. In the Jomon period, people painted their faces and bodies with bright red cinnabar. Cinnabar is a mercury-based mineral, and the finer it is crushed, the more vividly the vermilion red color appears. Jomon period earthenware with cinnabar has been excavated from the Kannonji-Honma and Sara-Okayama ruins in Kashihara City, Kashihara Prefecture. In the Yayoi period, cinnabar was used for the burial of rulers. Many pieces of earthenware decorated with cinnabar have been excavated from tombs. In the tombs of the Tango Misaka Shrine, soil stained bright red with cinnabar was also excavated, and a piece cut out of the soil is now in the archives of the Tango Museum as a research artifact. It is a beautiful red and the intense contrast of earth and vermilion gives the impression of the ancient colors as they were.

Silk was introduced to Tamba in ancient times and its use continues through the present day. Tango Chirimen, a traditional silk cloth, is still produced according to the ancient technique that has been handed down to the present. In the distant past, when people were laid to rest in wooden coffins dyed red with cinnabar, were they dressed in silk? Cinnabar was applied to their faces, bodies, and clothes. They were buried in red, praying for the resurrection of life. Now we see only the red vermilion in the soil of the Ni.

AAWAA

August, 2023

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Le Batèl
Elein Fleiss

Last July, with my friend the English artist Andie Wilkinson, I opened a store in my village (Saint-Antonin-Noble-Val in South West France) where we sell vintage clothes and antique objects, dishes, books. Together we designed the layout to display objects and clothes mixed with our own artworks as though we were creating an art installation. 

This new project is not so much about selling but mostly about buying. Andie and I work independently sharing the same spirit. I buy what I find beautiful, anything that attracts my eyes. Hand blown glasses, an old metal and wood tool, a cup, a skirt, gloves, a bag, a leather purse, wool sweaters, a pile of plates, a men’s coat, a vase… I become passionate searching. Finding something beautiful is very difficult. I go to thrift stores, charity stores, anyplace where people give away whatever they don’t want. The stores are often in suburban areas or industrial zones of small towns. Most of the merchandise is ugly and of poor quality, all unsorted and there is a tone of it. I look through racks and racks of clothes, endless stacks of clothes on trays, piles of plates, shelves filled with cups, glasses, books, baskets of scarves or jewelry… I never know what I will find, if I find anything but then I find a treasure. An incredible ceramic piece for example. When my eyes see something beautiful, I am filled with emotion but it can create a dilemna : Should I keep it for myself ? « No, you have too many coats, this one is for the store ! » or « No, you don’t have any space on your cup (or teapot) shelf anymore ! » But when the desire is too strong, I keep the new item and will eventually sell another one from my personal collection. 

Doing this work since six months, I’ve learned a lot about European ceramics, the different brands that existed during XXth century. My taste evolved over time, I get tired of some colors or patterns and suddenly am attracted to a new one. It’s a mystery. I try to follow my senses as much as possible and not to think about it. Thinking could lead me to the wrong direction, for example buying something that I think would sell easily and that I don’t particularly like. I don’t want to do that. I prefer to buy something I love and that I doubt I will ever sell. But I’ve had surprises and found out there’s always someone that can share my taste. I discovered that commerce, when you do it with your heart and sensibility, is about sharing, just like publishing.

*Le Batèl means the boat in occitan (France), the original language from the region where I live.

Elein Fleiss

March 2, 2023

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Meeting room at North Village
AAWAA

My village has an interesting meeting place. It is a large house, about 300 years old, with a thatched roof, an earthen floor, a well-used kitchen made of wood and clay, and tables that can accommodate many people. It is more like an open kitchen for the village than a meeting place. It can be used by anyone living in the village at any time and the kitchen is open for people to bring a variety of ingredients, cook delicious food, and eat freely. It is a place to talk and to share extra food or to find some if there is none at home. If someone cooks a meal and there is not enough for the next person, someone else who can cook will cook. Those who don’t want to cook don’t have to and those who don’t want to talk can eat in peace, making it a place where each person’s comfort is respected. This is based on the principle that everyone should enjoy what is left over from the fields and farms. The food is sometimes paid for by the village budget and sometimes not. The kitchen gathers an abundance of high-quality rice, vegetables, eggs, and meat, some of which comes from the village farms that use natural and pesticide-free methods, or else from local gardens and fields. Processed goods are also made at a factory in the village and leftovers are left at the meeting place. Mutual respect among the villagers is the reason for the longevity of this place.

We also go to the meeting place when there are new ideas to propose or when we have some problems. We discuss things with the people there before raising the issues at the big village meeting. Of course, the big village meeting is also held around this table. There was one item that once came up on the agenda and developed into an interesting project. It was a question of what to do with the mountains and forests owned by the village, which had borne so many years of human intervention. After consulting with engineers, researchers, and others in various fields, we are gradually returning the mountains and forests to their natural state. This is also about restoring our own intuition and our sense of self that is reflected in our environment.

There is a day I look forward to. It is when we have a cook from the village, or perhaps from outside the village, who comes and cooks a special meal with our local foods and many people in the village gather together. At this time we might pay for the food, or else give the cooks gifts in exchange. We are all dressed up for this gathering. My current source of inspiration is the clothing of the villagers who gather here today. Just the other day, there was a sort of international cooking party. All were dressed up in such style, though I was especially impressed by the men who were dressed in work clothes that could have been more than 100 years old. An elderly woman with long gray hair who lived in the village also captured my attention. She came wearing a long European 19th century black dress remade to be worn loosely, with a small deerskin bag in her hand and Korean shoes with pointy, warped toes. Her hair was likewise styled in a fluffy 19th century knot. She radiated a sense of freedom, transcending time and place, a relaxed humor, and above all, a kindness ready to embrace everything with a rich unbounded heart.

AAWAA

From the top in the photo

Sun-dried bricks for meeting room

19th century’s hemp bag

Organic cotton tweed workwear made with a garabou*

*A spinning machine that mimics hand-spinning techniques, developed in the late 19th century by former monk and inventor Gaun Tatsumune.

Traditional Korean footwear “Koshin”

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Is it Fall ?
Elein Fleiss

Beige and brown trees — last Summer trees became brown, some died of thirst, green slowly disappeared from the landscape. Summer looked like Fall. Sometimes clouds appeared in the sky, it became darker and darker, we thought it would finally rain, and it did, a few drops, during five minutes. Water in the rivers was low or they were completely dry. But now it is Fall, walnut trees are bright yellow and one morning the fog came back, erasing the landscape. It was on September 27th, precisely, I was driving to a city nearby and that’s when I saw the return of fog. I live at the cross of two valleys, sometimes the fog is above us, like a white blanket in the sky, the hills disappeared and the village is left alone in the whiteness. 

Another sign of Fall is the presence of horse-chestnuts in the streets. Two days ago I picked some. A friend had just told me moths do not like the smell of horse-chestnuts. Moths are small butterflies which eat wool. Just after I found out, I took my bike and went to pick some, just in time as they had all fallen from the trees and were becoming dry. I didn’t find as many as I would have liked. I have a special love for wool, and a special love for clothes, so my house contains lots of wool clothes ! Next year I plan to pick hundreds of horse-chestnuts. 

I also noticed beautiful collars of red five-leaved ivy hanging on stone walls, in my garden the wisteria is turning yellow, and pink Japanese anemones are blooming. But still, it is not raining, yesterday it was 27 degrees and roses are still blooming.

Elein Fleiss

October 20th, 2022

Photography: Elein Fleiss

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Spring has come
Elein Fleiss

The arrival of Spring is sudden, a new color appears in the landscape, like a little light in the dark. It’s usually on the ground, a flower—yellow or purple. Where I live, the first flower is either a violet, a lesser celandine (ficaria verna) or a dandelion. These appear when the landscape is still in winter. 

Another precursor is hazel catkins, these golden bud-like flowers hanging on hazel trees. Any of these signs brings joy. Spring is coming! It might still be cold, freezing at night, but it’s undeniable, it’s happening. 

A few days later, I start noticing buds on the shrubs of my little garden and, driving on small roads, white flower buds on cherry trees or very small yellow flowers on male cornel, the first tree to bloom.

After a dormant period, the metamorphosis of nature starts again, and like a ballet, one after the other, tender green leaves will grow on trees, new flowers and herbs will come out of the ground. 

Last week I went to the “daffodils wood,” where hundreds of daffodils grow. I can pick a large bunch without any visible effect on the landscape. I was a little too early this year, and could only find a dozen that were blooming. I also started to pick wild herbs that I eat as salads, valerianella locusta, perennial lettuce, dandelion… 

When I moved to the country and started to be more familiar with nature and the cycle of seasons, I was amazed by the constant changes and how quick it happens. The plant is good to be eaten or harvested at a certain stage of its metamorphosis, before the flower grows for edibles or right when the flowers open for some medicinal plants (hawthorn for example), and this stage sometimes only lasts a few weeks. 

With Spring coming, there is another simple and renewed joy in my everyday life I am very grateful for: from now on and until late summer, I’ll have fresh flowers in a vase on my kitchen table.

February, 2022

Elein Fleiss

Photography: Elein Fleiss

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The sheep around me

I live surrounded by causses, landscapes that have been shaped by sheep farming over centuries. Sheepfold, shepherds shelters and low walls separating plots, all made of dry stone, are reminding us of this past. Causses, which are limestone plateaus , are situated several hundreds meters above sea level but are not mountains, not even hills, they are flat. On these plateaus, because of the specific composition of the ground, not much can grow. Farmers have been grazing sheep here since the beginning of time. The sheep are raised for their milk which is made into cheese. To produce milk, sheep have to have lambs every year, whom are traditionally killed and eaten for Easter, following Christian, Jewish and Muslim traditions. The wool, sheared every year, is also used for bedding (mattresses, pillows, blankets) and clothes. There is one kind of sheep that is specific to the region where I live, that is commonly called ‘sheep with glasses’ because they are black around their eyes. It looks like they have black glasses on.

Nowadays sheep farming is less common here, unlike in the Basque Country where it remains an important activity.

One of my friends is a shepherd. His name is Antoine and I photographed him for my slide show, Ici-bas. He didn’t come from a shepherd family but he wanted to lead a different life. The shepherd is still a synonym of freedom and solitude, maybe similar to a traveling monk in Asian cultures. It’s hard work but you get to live in nature, with the cycles of seasons. Antoine’s sheep, of Sarda breed, are particularly beautiful. He treats them with much respect and uses  natural remedies whenever they get sick. In the Summer he moves his flock to another location so that the sheep have access to more grass. This move is called transhumance and is practiced in Europe since prehistoric times.

I recently visited the mountains of Basque country close to the Spanish border. We could see many sheep in their summer grazing, free on the land, no fences. There was different types of sheep. Among them black face manech, typical of the basque country, whose wool is particularly hard and itchy. I have a sweater made of that wool by Mary, the old woman who was spinning and knitting wool in my village. When she turned 90 years old, two years ago, she stopped her work. I am so happy I could buy several of her pieces made with raw wool and which have a very unique feel. Mary was using whatever wool was given to her by shepherds. The manech wool pieces, even though not very comfortable, are the most beautiful to look at.

I find it magic when I see sheep. These white fluffy silhouettes punctuating the land. Sometimes they look at me and when our eyes meet I get mixed feelings. I am reminded I also am a mammal.

September, 2021

Elein Fleiss

Photography: Elein Fleiss

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