Review: Reading The Artist Through Paul Auster

The Artist

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"And yet for all the changes that had occurred since then, their work was as fresh and invigorating as it had been when it was first shown. That was because they had understood the language they were speaking. They had invented a syntax of the eye, a grammar of pure kinesis, and except for the costumes and the cars and the quaint furniture in the background, none of it could possibly grow old. It was thought translated into action, human will expressing itself through human body, and therefore it was for all time (...) They were like poems, like the renderings of dreams, like some  intricate choreography of the spirit, and because they were dead, they probably spoke more deeply to us now than they had to the audience of their time. We watched them across a great chasm of forgetfulness, and the very things that separated them from us were in fact what made them so arresting: their muteness, their absence of color, their fitful, speeded-up rythms. These were obstacles and they made the viewing difficult for us, but they also relieved the images of the burden of representation. They stood between us and the film, and therefore we no longer had to pretend that we were looking at the real world. The flat screen was the world, and it existed in two dimensions. The third dimension was in our head." - Paul Auster, The Book of Illusions

I keep asking curioushairedgal to post here but she always says, "not ready, not ready, not ready.

Well suck it up. It's called PASTE.