François Truffaut Exhibition in Paris

Image courtesy of Criterion.com. Scene from 400 Blows.

I am very excited to report that I will have the privilege to visit Paris' Cinémathèque Française for the exhibition of the Mister François Truffaut, this month. To add to the occasion, I have just discovered that Truffaut's grave sits in Montmartre cemetery, nearby.

Admittedly, I have only seen a couple of Truffaut's works, thus far. However, I think it a rare and memorable feat when a single film can challenge everything you think you know about cinema. For me, that film was 400 Blows. Despite having watched various French New Wave movies, never quite grasping either their concept or their significance, I felt that finally I was beginning to understand, as I was watching 400 Blows. For me, it was during the scene in which Antoine prays to his Balzac altar that re-ignited (no pun intended) my interest in French New Wave.

What a beautiful thing to be able to pinpoint the exact scene in which a film grabs you and won't let go. I have several such memories of specific films that I will cherish every time I watch them. I find that when this happens (on the unique occasion), that film ends up becoming one of my favorites.

While I'm still just skimming the surface of all things cinema, I am absolutely looking forward to seeing what the Cinémathèque Française can teach me.

A proper Maui thank-you

"Aloha ___________ !
  Please forgive my lateness in writing you this thank you, but better late than never, I suppose. Maybe you'd understand the difficulty in expression via words rather than say, a sculpture or a painting! That being said, I'd like to still try: I did want to thank you for welcoming my friend and I into your conversation about art. Of course it was a great surprise for us to be offered such an intimate opportunity–I had a blast!

  Aside from that, I think I was just relieved to come across someone so accessibly and enthusiastically representing artists. In the past, I've found people removed maybe both physically and emotionally and how can anyone ever feel connected to a work if that's the case? To be emotionally invested makes all the difference. I guess I still have this crazy, romantic hope that people still do things out of passion, which seems to be your case? It shows, so I just wanted to offer a little thanks.

 Genuinely,
 Emily Ballas (from Philly)

“Even as it applies to the individual, art is a heightened mode of existence. It gives deeper pleasures, it consumes more quickly. It carves into its servants’ faces the marks of imaginary and spiritual adventures and though their external activities may be as quiet as a cloister, it produces a lasting voluptuousness, over-refinement, fatigue, and curiosity of the nerves such as can barely result from a life filled with illicit passions and enjoyments.”

– Thomas Mann, Death in Venice