دانلود کتاب Viva: Birgit Hein

The godmother of German experimental film is dead. Birgit Hein died at the age of 80, peacefully, while sleeping.

I met her at the European Media Arts Festival in Osnabrück at a precipitous moment. Every day hundreds poured across the East Berlin border amidst rumours the wall would be torn down soon. The Green Party sat on Berlin’s city council, vocal in its support of squat culture and its super-8 emporiums. The legendary trio Schmelz Dahin (melt away) had come to show their latest chemical outrage, though it would turn out to be their final work together. The Alte Kinder (Old Children) group was also dissolving. And through it all a larger-than-life figure ranged, touching and smiling, focusing the attention of everyone in the theatre, the centre of every scrum in the overcrowded bar next door where everyone fueled up between dizzying bouts of avant-gardism.

Birgit seemed to know everyone there. Quick to smile, to embrace her comrades and raise a glass, there was a charged aura about her that set her apart somehow. She had a man in her face, and a nose that looked like she had taken a few shots for the cause. She was the object of a thousand quick glances, as if the crowd needed to keep watch, because beside her formidable debating skills and reputation as an artist, there was something deeply fragile about her; it seemed as if she might crumble right before our eyes. I discovered only later that she had been part of a legendary couple that had helped kickstart underground film in Germany, and they had recently divorced, so this festival visit was part of a coming out display. She was on her own now, carrying the weight on her own capable shoulders.

This is a collection of love letters from friends and familiars. We needed to hear her voice again, so we rescued some Q&A’s, Randall, Duncan and Daniel kindly donated thoughtful interviews. Matthias and Michael sent materials and provided encouragement. Caspar started the ball rolling and helped with translations. Stefanie opened the vaults, Clint pitched in everywhere. cylixe found the old pictures. Nina and Çiğdem said yes. New writings abound and because the fringe remains an oral culture there are recordings of after-screening conversations. Everything was donated. Everyone worked for free. As if we lived in a world where thoughts and art and pictures could be free.

The hope was to gather a temporary community in these pages, to be able to hear from a few of the many she touched along the way. It is a wreath to lay beside her memory, which lives on in the words and teachings and movies that will continue to flow, and from which she might be felt as a stiff wind of clarity or an encouraging embrace. She is missed.