“[My films] rework and transform reality, exploring and exposing the language and manipulative power of cinema.” John Smith.
“You just need to look at things closely and if you’re patient and look hard enough things often fall into your lap… it’s just a question of waiting around.” John Smiith.
During his thirty-odd years as a film-maker John Smith has regularly been interviewed. The interviews provide an insight into both the craft of film-making and the effects of technological developments on film-making practise, and, whilst been shot-through with Smith’s wit and generosity of spirit. make clear the serious intent and intellectual influences behind Smith’s work. A comprehensive archive of the interviews, reviews and articles can be found at: www.johnsmithfilms.com. In the interim, here’s a few as a taster.
A fascinating insight into the craft behind the films, the challenges of working in both the cinema and the gallery, and the intellectual influences from Brecht to John Grierson.
“Ben Rowley: I’d like to begin by asking you about the impact of changing technology upon your work. What was the first film camera you shot with?
John Smith: That was a clockwork Bolex, I had a very old one to begin with. The old ones have a very small viewfinder on them so you’re looking at this tiny image. Most of the films I’ve made were shot using a Bolex camera, though mainly with a later model where I could see what I was filming (laughs).
BR: So were you using the Bolex through the 80s?
JS: Nineties too, yeah. Blight, the last piece that I shot on film, was shot on a Bolex. With that camera you can wind the film back and film a second exposure, so when I was making The Black Tower, for example, I could mask half the frame and rewind the film to make cars disappear behind trees and so on.
BR: That’s all ‘in camera’ stuff?
JS: Yes, I didn’t like leaving that kind of thing to the labs, you wouldn’t know if it was going to work until it was too late.
BR: I’m interested in your transition from using 16mm film to using video.
JS: When I first started working with film there wasn’t really any choice between working with film and video if you were interested in the aesthetics of the image”
Courtesy of Ben Rowley, Sidney Cooper Gallery and John Smith
In an ongoing series, frieze asks artists and filmmakers to list the movies that have influenced their practice. John reflects on the importance of Bambi, Ben Hur and James Bond.
“The earliest event I can remember occurred when I was about six months old. It was a sunny afternoon and I was lying in my pram in the garden”
Courtesy Frieze and John Smith
Stuart Comer talks to John Smith about narrative, deconstruction, structuralist film-making, the power of puns and Brechtian alienation (amongst other things):
“Smith’s dark wit diverts the viewer into unexpected and unruly networks of meaning and absurdity…Committed to defamiliarizing what we see and hear but never offering easy experiences of resolution, Smith has produced an important body of work that reorients our critical bearings as the outpouring of images becomes ever more promiscuous…[] Stuart Comer talks to the film-maker about his deft use of strategic ambiguity and disorderly humor.”
Courtesy Art Forum and John Smith.
Nick Bradshaw and John Smith in more conversation on film-making, exhibiting and the dangers of confessions (with some politics along the way):
NB – Third Attempt, like the whole exhibition, shows some of the things that have been changing in your work over time – one of which is the foregrounding of yourself. Has that become easier?
JS – Absolutely. When I made The Girl Chewing Gum I used my own voice, but couldn’t bear to listen to it – I remember playing around in the RCA dubbing studio trying to disguise it, make myself sound more grown-up. But now it’s been tuned by years of cigarettes and whisky…I still feel slightly uncomfortable with some of the more confessional aspects of the work, but take a sort of masochistic pleasure in making myself squirm. Particularly in the Hotel Diaries, which are improvised single takes, I’ll say something and think “Fucking hell, that was embarrassing”, but I’m stuck with it. But it’s quite a deliberate device to have that level of mistake in those pieces. I don’t want to be didactic because I’ve got nothing special to say; I’m sure my armchair-socialist opinions are very irritating for a lot of people. I hope the spontaneity makes them less like a lecture; I’m more interested in sharing concerns and cathartically – for myself – ranting… I really like that the Hotel Diaries pieces have given me the opportunity to go around the world and slag off my government’s involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan.
NB – The unedited aspects seems quite radical not only in the context of your earlier works, but also given how heavily processed TV has become.
JS – They’re wilfully simple. I’ve got myself into trouble at film festivals when I’ve won prizes for those films, particularly in Cork when I won the main prize for Museum Piece. I had to make a speech, and I said that it gave me particular pleasure to get a prize for this film because I’m a great believer in economy, and this film cost €7, or the price of one DV tape. And afterwards I had so many really angry young filmmakers coming up to me, saying “I borrowed £10,000 to make my film, and yours is a load of shit!”…What does sometimes upset me if people don’t tune into those pieces is when they ask, “Did you plan what you were going to say, or did you just switch on the camera and wave it around?” Actually, apart from Frozen War, the first piece, which is spontaneous, they’re all planned: I know what I’m going to be looking at when I’m talking about a particular thing, and there are lots of connections between image and sound. But maybe people just don’t get the metaphorical significance of talking about Yasser Arafat having just died while the camera’s looking at an empty bed, those sorts of things.
Courtesy Sight & Sound and John Smith