I never thought that photographers had such power, like being able to close down streets. To me, photography was never a thing that everything requires precision. I do get visions of scenes I want to see, but not quite to the degree Gregory Crewdson has them. I usually give up on recreating the scene for photography, since I did not think photographers could stage a shot. Then again, my ideas border on surreal, like a hall filled with post clocks, all with different times and in files.
That is one of the reasons why I have a hard time understanding the film; his shots involve a person to invoke a certain feeling. I don't try to invoke a feeling, but seek to preserve a feeling I am having. It is for myself, not for others. Right now, I am trying to convey what this artistic flow I got from watching the film, and rambling a lot, but this is what I think that beauty of an idea causes me. Even now, I do not have a perfect grasp on the functions of my camera, because the flow exists in me prior to holding the camera itself. I do not understand other peoples' flows, so I cannot fully appreciate his photos.
Halfway through the film, I ceased hearing and really paying attention, since I had gone into this artistic phase, so I am too caught up in my own thoughts to continue watching. It's a melancholic feeling, not what I am sensing from Crewdson's work. Sure, dilapidated towns with no one in them has a lonely atmosphere, but is kind of like the flavor of two different ice creams. His have a warm feeling, while my own flow is less sweet and more sad.
I'm not sure how I could make this two pages, but I have tried my best. I think if I were to continue, my comparisons would become more unclear because of my odd comprehension of things as well as the lack of fluency of being able to translate my thoughts into words.
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