Suspension, Suspension

Whilst editing my documentary, Pénélope mon amour, I thought I was going to address all the issues that were playing on my mind about difference and autism. I wanted to put it all into that film and then never talk about it again. That was a mistake. I started pulling on the thread of a reel that kept getting longer and longer; and which led me to make short, self-produced satellite films.

I also realised that filming in super 8 wasn’t only for want of a better alternative or for lack of time as I had been telling myself for years, but that it was part of my working method. I film in super 8, the images stay at the bottom of a well for a while, then a kind of necessity to speak pushes me to grab the bucket and lower it to the bottom of the well to fetch the images. I see what rises to the surface without trying too hard to control or cut them, leaving things to chance.

The letter I read describes an unrequited expectation. Rather than just expressing disappointment, the letter is a pretext for talking about Pénélope’s gestures. I observe how they are unbearable for others, and for me too. They must always be interpreted, either out of a sense of obligation to “suppress” them or in order to “let them go”. We always have to give meaning to them because doing so reassures us. I like the expression Deligny uses to describe them. He stops at the threshold of interpretation. He speaks of gestures “for want of anything”.

With Suspension, I try to examine my psyche and observe the ties between gesture and interaction. I tell myself that this is what I am going to do: trace in real-time, and as vertically as possible, what moves me in this journey of life with Pénélope. The stages. I felt entitled to do so thanks to encouragements from friends. When making the film, I felt as though everything was on hold.