The periphery is that fuzzy area between obscurity and recognition. To perform in obscurity is madness, shouting into the echoless void. It is the denial of one's creative self through the refusal to share the work being generated. Recognition, on the other hand, implies an established persona, a set of expectations to live up to or rebel against--an implied audience. Between these two sits the periphery, where the work is liberated because the expectations are small and the audiences are even smaller. The only other place where people are as free from the shackles of expectation is in the big-budget mega-blockbuster, where little matters once the stars are packaged and the special effects are shot; where huge audiences are taken for granted.
If buckets of money bring the promise of attention and acceptance, the lack of money involved with microcinema events almost guarantees a lack of attention. Listings in weekly and biweekly papers are free, but that doesn't mean anyone will see them amid the full-page advertisements for the latest "event movie"; furthermore, if they do read the listing, there's generally little chance that they'll actually go. Similarly, small venues can be cheap to rent, but that's usually because they're out-of-the-way, hard-to-find places that people aren't used to attending.
Then there's the work itself, with few exceptions also done for little expense. Not many people are working in 16mm film any more, which is a shame. Programs that include 16mm are a treat because you know the artist had to have the drive to finish something more difficult and expensive than a simple point-and-shoot piece. Most people now choose to use the cheaper media of video and Super 8, where the idea (or ideal) is that the content and concepts are bigger than the medium it's shot in. The hope often is for somebody to see the potential in the work and step up and become a benefactor for bigger, more ambitious, more expensive projects. (Of course that never happens.) Other people treat these cheaper formats as something to experiment and play with, showing artful home movies along with other likeminded souls to artfully small audiences.
THE PERIPHERY AND MEI know what I'm talking about from experience. I've been making and showing movies on the periphery for years. It's probably a combination of laziness and fear of success, but I find the periphery the most comfortable place to be. My first foray out of obscurity and into peripheral exhibition happened when I realized Randhurst Mall had outlets everywhere, and I could just plug in my Super 8 projector and show my films as people walked by.
Since moving to Seattle, I've been involved with Super 8 groups (both at the Little Theater and with Super 8 maven Rachel Lord), and have shown films and videos in group shows at venues like 2nd Avenue Pizza, the Jewel Box Theater in the Rendezvous, the Speakeasy, Cinema 18, the Little Theatre, and maybe a couple of others, not to mention at festivals like the Chicago Underground Film Festival, the Seattle Underground Film Festival, and Reed O'Bierne's Emerald Reels (not really a festival, but close enough). My first potential steps out of the periphery and into recognition was the recent show Spletz-o-Rama at Consolidated Works, which showcased a bunch of the films I'd been working on for the last several years.
More than just a single show, however, it takes persistence and longevity to climb out of the womblike ghetto of the periphery. Not that becoming established pays much better, but over time the audiences do get bigger and name-recognition will get you into better parties. This concept is even more important for venues and curators. Joel Bachar has been doing the screenings of Independent Exposure for more than five years now, and he's gotten to the point where he could pack the Speakeasy with a growing band of regular customers every month, who will likely follow him to his next venue [Ed. Note: Vital 5 Productions, 2200 Westlake Avenue at Denny] now that the Speakeasy has burned down. Jon Behrens now regularly packs the back patio of Linda's with exploitation films and drug scare movies. Over at the Grand Illusion, and later the Little Theatre, when the Northwest Film Forum started its calendar programming, it stepped smack dab into the periphery until it fully established its voice with adventurous quality programming. Its early days were lean on audiences, but strong on content. These are a few examples of peripheral venues rising up to become established, reliable places to see anything outside of mainstream film. No doubt others will follow.
AHEAD OF THE CURVE, WAY AHEADAnother definition of the periphery could be this: those movies and events that you mean to go to, but never do. Specifically, it's the short-term engagements of obscure, difficult films at places like the now-gutted Speakeasy, where besides Joel Bachar's monthly stalwart, Independent Exposure, Shining Moment Films would occasionally show silents or experimental fare or whatever it fancied. 911 Media Arts has shows infrequently, and though it's been around forever, it still resides quite comfortably in the periphery. Or look at the Seattle Underground Film Festival. It'll soon be entering its third year, and as audiences continue to grow, cofounder Jon Behrens wants to continue to lead them into the realm of experimental films with plans of even more programs of avant-garde work during the festivities.
Then there's Consolidated Works, whose film programs, curated by Christopher Chase, have yet to find the audiences they deserve. Chase has booked the work of critically respected but still unknown filmmakers like Robert Kramer and James Benning (better known to current generations as the father of Pixelvision pioneer Sadie Benning), and shown some amazing experimental shorts, as well as work by emerging artists like Bill Brown and James Fotopolous, and he's shown them to mere handfuls of people.
I do wish that more people would discover these peripheral shows because, selfishly, I want them to keep happening. I want them to be recognized and become established. Then again, there's a good feeling--a smug feeling--involved in being one of three people in the audience for an amazing program, of being part of the elite and adventurous few to seek out and find this stuff. There's a desire to be ahead of the curve, outside of the crowd. At the same time, I talk a big game. I've missed more than my share of once-in-a-lifetime cinema events in town.
So even if all of my favorite venues for good, peripheral work shutter their doors, the fact of the matter is that more will pop up. When peripheral artists and venues rise into the establishment, when they go so far as to become a blip on the radar of the mainstream, rest assured there will be others that will rise out of obscurity. As I write this, the newly formed Puget Sound Cinema Society has started a (regular?) program in the University District, and Galaxaco Microcinema has begun invite-only screenings in what is essentially somebody's living room. And I'm sure there's plenty more I have yet to hear about.
