In my own practice, I used tools such as a hole punch, sandpaper, thumbtacks, and a small knife to create patterns that followed a sense of order and symmetry. Finally, I treated the film with bleach, which produced faded textures and stark contrasts. This chemical transformation introduced uncertainty into the work, giving it a sense of spontaneity and vitality.

Beyond these surface experiments, I also tried using repair tape and operated a film projector. These explorations have been an important step in both technical preparation and creative inspiration for Project 1. For this project, I want to create an animation with a graffiti-like effect, characterized by a bright and compact rhythm, accompanied by pop music-style drum patterns that I will compose myself. I also plan to apply subtractive techniques on the film to generate visual contrasts and rhythms that correspond to the energy of the music.

This experiment gave me an intuitive understanding of the nature of imagery: it doesn't rely on a lens, but rather the direct interaction of light and objects on the photosensitive material. The material and transparency of the pattern will alter the final image. This method is more like painting with light, both serendipitous and creative. We experienced firsthand the most primitive way of creating images and immersed ourselves in the magic of the combination of light and chemistry.

From the beginning, I wanted to move beyond traditional direct film methods, so I treated editing as part of the concept design. The central theme I explored was the connection between visual imagery and musical rhythm. I deliberately painted large amounts of dots, lines, and shapes, and later combined them with editing techniques such as jump cuts, looping, and split-screen presentation. In this way, the visual elements and the music could interact and merge, turning rhythm into both a sonic and a visual experience.

I was deeply inspired by the creativity I saw in my classmates’ works. Some films felt technically mature, while others showed strong emotional expression or bold formal experimentation. Together, they reminded me that rhythm is not only about controlling time — it’s also about a flow of feeling, a kind of breathing between the filmmaker and the image. Watching these works expanded my understanding of what moving images can communicate beyond narrative or structure.

I also presented my own short piece. Although it was only a few minutes long, when the lights went down and the first frames appeared, I felt an intimate connection with the audience. Seeing everyone watching attentively, and hearing the applause at the end, made me genuinely happy. It was a moment of shared energy and appreciation that I will remember for a long time.

This screening made me realize that this course is not just about creating films, but about growing together — learning to see, to listen, and to be inspired by one another’s rhythms.

A core part of the process involves subtractive film manipulation—a physical re-creation of the film material using tools like needles and sandpaper. This method transforms the footage by erasing, scratching, and reshaping the image, symbolizing the emotional imprint and imperfect beauty of collective creation. The project draws inspiration from Carolee Schneemann’s Fuses (1967) for its raw materiality and sincerity, and Jonas Mekas’s As I Was Moving Ahead Occasionally I Saw Brief Glimpses of Beauty (2000) for its diaristic rhythm and poetic celebration of community.

The film will be silent, accompanied by a separately recorded soundtrack blending ambient location sound, live recording, and soft background music. Together, image and sound will form a visual diary that honours the shared effort, vulnerability, and warmth found in the act of filmmaking itself.

The shoot lasted from 10 AM to 1 AM, and the long hours left everyone's condition unstable. Sometimes a beautiful moment appeared, and I would immediately raise my camera; other times, I would be called away to do other work just as I was about to press the shutter, and the shot would be missed. This sense of regret, ironically, becomes part of the imagery itself—fragmented, incomplete, and accidental, much like what Jonas Mekas calls "diary-like images": never fully captured, only what can be grasped in the present moment.

The final images resemble memories themselves: scattered, warm, and real.

In editing, the footage is divided into three segments: the first is the pre-production setup; the second is the actual shooting; and the third is the final shot at night. Each segment is transitioned with establishing shots, making the work feel like a fragmented video diary. For the sound, I initially planned to add background music, but ultimately used ambient sounds, improvisational sounds, and subtle atmosphere recorded with the MixPre-3 to maintain consistency between the sound and the fragmented feel of the footage.

I believe that technical failures can also be an aesthetic choice. This soft, blurred, and incomplete texture perfectly matches the theme that the work originally intended to express—moment, collaboration, and memory.