Works by Malic Amalya, Max Garnet, Jesse McLean, Sharon A. Mooney and Michael Robinson

Admission: [$5 members / $10 non-members]
Festival Pass: [$25 members / $50 non-members] available here
Order advance tickets for this program here

CROSSROADS 2013 is sponsored by Ninkasi Brewing and Cole Hardware
thanks to promotional partner Oddball Film+Video

SCREENING:
Scarlet (2012) by Sharon A. Mooney; digital video, color, sound, 5 minutes, from the maker. bay area premiere.
“Scarlet is inspired by Jane Fonda, yoga videos and sexy aliens and was created entirely without visual effects or filters, only physical image manipulations. Audio samples culled from Jane Fonda films from the ‘60s and ‘70s weaved underneath lenticular images of sexpot aliens form a calm and meditative space in which the viewer faces the pluralities of perception.” (Sharon A. Mooney)

Gold Moon, Sharp Arrow (2012) by Malic Amalya and Max Garnet; 16mm, color, sound, 12 minutes, print from the makers
“Against a backdrop of electrocution, dominance and scientific precision, wasps nest in an abandoned refrigerator, eyelashes flutter, curtains blow in open windows and queers congregate. Adapting Stanley Milgram’s 1963 experiment on obedience to authority, Gold Moon, Sharp Arrow explores how queer communities reenact, resist and respond to assimilation, coercion and trauma.” (Malic Amalya)

Roadsides & Waste Grounds (2012) by Malic Amalya; digital video, color, sound, 2 minutes, from the maker
“A field guide from the Oakland Hills, with Rachel Zingoni.
“Roadsides & Waste Grounds is part of Detours & Fences (2012), a series of four video diaries, each shot over the course of one week. Amalya deploys landscapes, objects found within his apartment and punk rock to explore heartache, family legacies and trans identity.” (Malic Amalya)

The Invisible World (2012) by Jesse Mclean; digital video, color, sound, 20 minutes, from Video Data Bank. bay area premiere.
“A deceased hoarder, reconstituted through technology, recounts a difficult childhood as inhabitants of a virtual world struggle to reconcile materialistic tendencies. A scientist leads an effort to understand the passage of time, but the data is unreliable. The question remains, what happens to our things after we are gone?
“In this video, materialism, emotional presence and the adaptive nature of human beings are broadly considered through the lens of time. A variety of time-based materials are collected (including home movies, internet videos, ‘70s sci-fi films and a photographed archive of objects) and collaged, revealing the filmmaker’s own hoarding tendencies. YouTube genres are parsed, including ‘haul’ videos (where contributors display the results of a shopping spree) and unboxing videos (where a new purchase is unwrapped) with the results suggesting not only how materialist tendencies have found a way to continue in the cresting virtual age but also how the need to own is often paired with the need to relate.
“The present world is packed with objects that evidence human productivity, yet the desire to possess things remains somewhat mysterious. Lifeless objects become imbued with emotional significance and possessions linked with personal identities, even as these objects bear a cool and distant witness to human struggles. The rapidly arriving future portends an intangible new world of virtual experience. How will we relate our materialist tendencies in this new world of immateriality?” (Jesse McLean)

Circle in the Sand (2012) by Michael Robinson; digital video, color, sound, 46 minutes, from the maker. bay area premiere.
“In a broken near future, a band of listless vagabonds ambles across a war-torn coastal territory, supervised and sorted by a group of idle soldiers. Rummaging, stuttering and smashing through the leftovers of Western culture, these ragged souls conjure an unstable magic, fueled by their own apathy and the poisonous histories imbedded in their unearthed junk. Suspicion, boredom, garbage and glamour conspire in the languid pageantry of ruin. Feel the breeze in your hair, and the world crumbling through your fingers.” (Michael Robinson)