The same elements that fascinate me from instant photography are those which hooked me to Super 8. I’m attracted by the possibility of converting reality into a succession of instants captured in tiny frames. A physical possibility that you can touch, destroy, manipulate in the manual meaning of the word.
Moreover, further than the movement and the rhythm, cinema gives you a dimension that photography lacks: the off-universe, everything what’s not there, but still is.
The power of this dimension multiplies the possible techniques and the amount of referents that can be activated in the spectator. Projection, the fragility of celluloid and its size make Super 8 something ‘handcrafty’, something totally different to the feeling of video. Super 8 has a keepsake halo, an old ‘out-of-focus’, always appealing to memory. Its own working principle, the retinal persistence, is nothing but an optical form of memory.
And this makes Super 8 a powerful tool for treating feelings, for describing what is seen and what can’t be seen at the same time, to talk about what’s inside the picture.