The Language of Visual Prayers
Prayer has never particularly come naturally to me.
Despite being raised in a rigorously Pentecostal/Evangelical ecosystem, I rarely engaged in formal petitions to God or man.
In such a world, speaking in tongues was a demarcating act of God that separated those who had been "baptized in the Holy Spirit," as opposed to those contented with drinking the simple milk of a faith immature.
Glossolalia, as it was phrased in the more theological works I engaged with at an older age, was the act of speaking in the tongues of angels, while Xenolalia was the act of speaking in an unlearned language of man. The latter existed for evangelistic ends, while the former for individual edification before God.
Neither ever parted my lips, although it was a regular feature of the church in which I was raised. As I grew older, I became drawn to more liturgical expressions of faith, the work of the people, as it's phrased. Prayers in this tradition are formal, and spoken through prescribed texts, many of which were written millennia ago
In a sense, this was not all that dissimilar to speaking in tongues. One involved the words being given through the "power of the Holy Spirit" while the other through the traditional language of the faith. In both instances, the one praying was merely a passive vessel though which the prayer was made
"As long as human beings exist, they will instinctively strive to create. In a way, that’s what binds them to their creator. And what is creation? What is the purpose of art? Why does it exist? Is it good or bad? Is it something constructive, or just art for art’s sake? But one thing is clear: Art is prayer. That says it all." - Andrei Tarkovsky
Cinema has its own language also, as does any form of art. It's all communication, a petition from one subject to another. A form of prayer.
Over the last few months, I've been working on a series of short-form films that I've named, Visual Prayers. Their language is one that is intentionally formal, liturgical even. Each shot is a single, unmoving frame; timed at around two to three minutes. The images are paired with only the diegetic sounds of the natural world around them.
However, despite their formal language, there's a spirituality to the process, a commitment to being moved by something precognitive. Perhaps one might call it intuition or instinct. Regardless, I approach each piece with no plan or agenda; I simply get in my car and drive until something catches my eye.
Making is a mystical act; one that, at its best, is only anachronistically analyzed for meaning. Much like speaking in tongues, one makes without knowing what is being made, but only doing so with the hope that others will take them and translate them into something clear and cogent.
In doing so, I hope the viewer finds them as a place to inhabit: a vessel for quiet contemplation, a pause to slow down and reflect; a prayer in which to pray.