Tarkovski nije bio samo reditelj, bio je i talentovan pisac. Njegova knjiga Vajanje u vremenu ostavila je na mene jači utisak od većine njegovih filmova. Zato sam prekucao omiljene delove i rešio da ih podelim sa vama.

Sculpting in Time

– Andrey Tarkovsky

Introduction

There's another kind of language, another form of communication: by means of feeling, and images. That is the contact that stops people being separated from each other, that brings down barriers. Will, feeling, emotion—these remove obstacles from between people who otherwise stand on opposite sides of a mirror, on opposite sides of a door.
(Excerpt from a letter to Tarkovsky)

Chapter I: The Beginning

When I speak of poetry I am not thinking of it as a genre. Poetry is an awareness of the world, a particular way of relating to reality. So poetry becomes a philosophy to guide a man throughout his life.

*

I think in fact that unless there is an organic link between the subjective impressions of the author and his objective representation of reality, he will not achieve even superficial credibility, let alone authenticity and inner truth.

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The true artistic image is always based on an organic link between idea and form.

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To be honest, in making my first film I had another objective: to establish whether or not I had it in me to be a director.

Chapter II: Art – a yearning for the ideal

In any case it is perfectly clear that the goal for all art—unless of course it is aimed at the 'consumer', like a saleable commodity—is to explain to the artist himself and to those around him what man lives for, what is the meaning of his existence. To explain to people the reason for their appearance on this planet; or if not to explain, at least to pose the question.

To start with the most general consideration, it is worth saying that the indisputably functional role of art lies in the idea of knowing, where the effect is expressed as shock, as catharsis.

*

Art is born and takes hold wherever there is a timeless and insatiable longing for the spiritual, for the ideal: that longing which draws people to art. Modern art has taken a wrong turn in abandoning the search for the meaning of existence in order to affirm the value of the individual for its own sake. What purports to be art begins to look like an eccentric occupation for suspect characters who maintain that any personalized action is of intrinsic value simply as a display of self-will. But in artistic creation the personality does not assert itself, it serves another, higher and communal idea. The artist is always a servant, and is perpetually trying to pay for the gift that has been given to him as if by a miracle. Modern man, however, does not want to make any sacrifice, even though true affirmation of self can only be expressed in sacrifice. We are gradually forgetting about this, and at the same time, inevitably, losing all sense of our human calling...

*

The absolute is only attainable through faith and in the creative act.

*

Art is a meta-language, with the help of which people try to communicate with one another; to impart information about themselves and assimilate the experience of others. Again, this has to do not with practical advantage but with realizing the idea of love, the meaning of which is in sacrifice: the very antithesis of pragmatism. I simply cannot believe that an artist can ever work only for the sake of 'self-expression'. Self-expression is meaningless unless it meets with a response. For the sake of creating a spiritual bond with others it can only be an agonizing process, one that involves no practical gain: ultimately, it is an act of sacrifice. But surely it cannot be worth the effort merely for the sake of hearing one's own echo?

*

Art acts above all on the soul, shaping its spiritual structure.

*

The beautiful is hidden from the eyes of those who are not searching for the truth.

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An artist who has no faith is like a painter who was born blind. It is a mistake to talk about the artist 'looking for' his subject. In fact the subject grows within him like a fruit, and begins to demand expression. It is like childbirth...

*

The allotted function of art is not, as is often assumed, to put across ideas, to propagate thoughts, to serve as example. The aim of art is to prepare a person for death, to plough and harrow his soul, rendering it capable of turning to good.

*

One thing is certain: a masterpiece only comes into being when the artist is totally sincere in his treatment of his material. Diamonds are not found in the black earth: they have to be sought near volcanoes.

*

Then the artist and thinker becomes the ideologue, the apologist for his time, the catalyst of predetermined change. The greatness and ambiguity of art lies in not proving, not explaining and not answering questions even when it throws up warning inscriptions like, 'Caution! Radiation! Danger!' Its influence has to do with moral and ethical upheaval. And those who remain indifferent to its emotional reasoning, and fail to believe it, run the risk of radiation sickness . . . Little by little . . . Unbeknownst to themselves. . . . With a foolish smile on the broad, imperturbable face of the man convinced that the world is as flat as a pancake and rests on three whales.

*

For the genius is revealed not in the absolute perfection of a work but in absolute fidelity to himself, in commitment to his own passion.

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The genius is not free. As Thomas Mann wrote: “Only indifference is free. What is distinctive is never free, it is stamped with its own seal, conditioned and chained.”

Chapter III: Imprinted time

Life is no more than the period allotted to him, and in which he may, indeed must, fashion his spirit in accordance with his own understanding of the aim of human existence.

*

What is the essence of the director's work? We could define it as sculpting in time. Just as a sculptor takes a lump of marble, and, inwardly conscious of the features of his finished piece, removes everything that is not part of it—so the film-maker, from a 'lump of time' made up of an enormous, solid cluster of living facts, cuts off and discards whatever he does not need, leaving only what is to be an element of the finished film, what will prove to be integral to the cinematic image.

Chapter IV: Cinema’s destined role

In this connection I am reminded of a curious observation of Father Pavel Florensky's in his book, The Iconostasis. He says that the inverted perspective in the works of that period was not the result of Russian icon-painters being unaware of the optical laws which had been assimilated by the Italian Renaissance, after being developed in Italy by Leon Battista Alberti. Florensky argues, convincingly, that it was not possible to observe nature without discovering perspective, it was bound to be noticed. For the time being, however, it might not be needed—it could be ignored. So the inverted perspective in ancient Russian painting, the denial of Renaissance perspective, expresses the need to throw light on certain spiritual problems which Russian painters, unlike their Italian counterparts of the Quattrocento, had taken upon themselves.

*

To seek one's own truth (and there can be no other, no 'common' truth) is to search for one's own language, the system of expression destined to give form to one's own ideas.

*

My experience illustrates—yet again—that teaching someone in a college doesn't make him into an artist. Becoming an artist does not merely mean learning something, acquiring professional techniques and methods. Indeed, as someone has said, in order to write well you have to forget about grammar.

Though, of course, in order to forget it you have first to know it.

Anyone who decides to become a director is risking the rest of his life, and he alone is answerable. It should be the conscious decision of someone mature.

*

For us the story of Rublyov is really the story of a 'taught’ or imposed concept, which burns up in the atmosphere of living reality to arise again from the ashes as a fresh and newly-discovered truth.

(...) The young Andrey received his ideas intellectually. (...)

It is easy to see how ill-equipped Andrey was for this confrontation with life, after being protected from it within the rarified precincts of the monastery, from which he had a distorted view of the life which stretched out far beyond it. . . . And only after going through the circles of suffering, at one with the fate of his people, and losing his faith in an idea of good that could not be reconciled with reality, does Andrey come back to the point from which he started: to the idea of love, good, brotherhood. But now he has experienced for himself the great, sublime truth of that idea as a statement of the aspirations of his tormented people.

Traditional truths remain truths only when they are vindicated by personal experience...

*

In fact, making a short film is almost harder than making a full-length one: it demands an unerring sense of form.

*

Paul Valery could have been thinking of Bresson when he wrote: 'Perfection is achieved only by avoiding everything that might make for conscious exaggeration.' Apparently no more than modest, simple observation of life. The principle has something in common with Zen art, where, in our perception, precise observation of life passes paradoxically into sublime artistic imagery.

*

What passes for art today is for the most part a demonstration of itself, for it is a fallacy to suppose that method can become the meaning and aim of art. Nonetheless, most modem artists spend their time self-indulgently demonstrating method.

The whole question of avant-garde is peculiar to the twentieth century, to the time when art has steadily been losing its spirituality. The situation is worst in the visual arts, which today are almost totally devoid of spirituality. The accepted view is that this situation reflects the despiritualised state of society. And of course, on the level of simple observation of the tragedy, I agree: that is what it does reflect. But art must transcend as well as observe; its role is to bring spiritual vision to bear on reality: as did Dostoievsky, the first to have given inspired utterance to the incipient disease of the age.
The whole concept of avant-garde in art is meaningless. I can see what it means as applied to sport, for instance. But to apply it to art would be to accept the idea of progress in art; and though progress has an obvious place in technology—more perfect machines, capable of carrying out their functions better and more accurately—how can anyone be more advanced in art? How could Thomas Mann be said to be better than Shakespeare?

*

“The bad habit of mistaking metonym for revelation, metaphor for proof, a spate of words for fundamental knowledge, and oneself for a genius—that is an evil which is with us when we are born,” observes Valéry, again, sarcastically, in “Introduction to The System of Leonardo da Vinci”.

*

The artist never looks for methods as such, for the sake of aesthetics; he is forced, painfully, to devise them as a means of imparting faithfully his—author's—view of reality.

The engineer invents machines, guided by people's daily needs—he wants to make labour, and thus life, easier for them. However, not by bread alone... The artist could be said to extend his range in order to further communication, to enable people to understand one another on the highest intellectual, emotional, psychological and philosophical level. Thus the artist's efforts, too, are directed towards making life better, more perfect, making it easier for people to understand one another.
Not that an artist is necessarily simple and clear in his account of himself or in his reflections on life—these can indeed be hard to understand. But communication always demands exertion. Without it, indeed without passionate commitment, it is actually not possible for one person to understand another.

Chapter V: The film image

Haikku cultivates its images in such a way that they mean nothing beyond themselves, and at the same time express so much that it is not possible to catch their final meaning. The more closely the image corresponds to its function, the more impossible it is to constrict it within a clear intellectual formula. The reader of haikku has to be absorbed into it as into nature, to plunge in, lose himself in its depth, as in the cosmos where there is no bottom and no top.

*

I am always sickened when an artist underpins his system of images with deliberate tendentiousness or ideology.

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The function of the image, as Gogol said, is to express life itself, not ideas or arguments about life. It does not signify life or symbolize it, but embodies it, expressing its uniqueness.

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All creative work strives for simplicity, for perfectly simple expression; and this means reaching down into the furthest depths of the recreation of life. But that is the most painful part of creative work: finding the shortest path between what you want to say or express and its ultimate reproduction in the finished image. The struggle for simplicity is the painful search for a form adequate to the truth you have grasped. You long to be able to achieve great things while economizing the means.

*

Problems of technique are child's play; you can learn any of it. But thinking independently, worthily, is not like learning to do something; nor is being an individual. Nobody can be forced to shoulder a weight that is not merely difficult, but at times impossible to bear; but there is no other way, it has to be all or nothing.

*

The point is that the depth and significance of a director's work can only be gauged in terms of what makes him shoot something: motivation is the decisive factor, manner and method are incidental.

*

Of course all art is artificial. It only symbolizes the truth. That's obvious enough. But the sort of artificiality that comes from lack of skill, of professional flair, cannot be passed off as style; when exaggeration is not inherent in the imagery but is merely an exaggerated attempt and desire to please, it's a sign of provincialism, of the wish to be noticed as an artist. What the audience deserve is respect, a sense of their own dignity. Don't go blowing in their faces; that's something even cats and dogs dislike.

Chapter VI: The author in search of an audience

I cannot in fact understand the problem of an artist's so-called 'freedom' or 'lack of freedom'. An artist is never free. No group of people lacks freedom more. An artist is bound by his gift, his vocation.

*

Art, as I said earlier, affects a person's emotions, not his reason. Its function is, as it were, to turn and loosen the human soul, making it receptive to good. When you see a good film, look at a painting, listen to music (assuming, of course, that it's 'your' sort of art) you are disarmed and entranced from the start—but not by an idea, not by a thought.

*

This was the theme of Audrey Rublyov. It looks at first sight as if the cruel truth of life as he observes it is in crying contradiction with the harmonious ideal of his work. The crux of the question, however, is that the artist cannot express the moral ideal of his time unless he touches all its running sores, unless he suffers and lives these sores himself. That is how art triumphs over grim, 'base' truth, clearly recognising it for what it is, in the name of its own sublime purpose: such is its destined role. For art could almost be said to be religious in that it is inspired by commitment to a higher goal.
Devoid of spirituality, art carries its own tragedy within it.

Chapter VII: The artist’s responsibility

The fairly widely held view of cinema as a system of signs therefore seems to me profoundly and essentially mistaken. I see a false premise at the very basis of the structuralist approach.

*

Why would some groups of people turn to art only for entertainment, while others look for an intelligent interlocutor? Why do some people only accept as real what is superficial, allegedly beautiful, but in fact vulgar, tasteless, inferior, hack—while others are capable of the most subtle, genuinely aesthetic experience? Where should we look for the causes of the aesthetic—sometimes, indeed, moral—deafness of vast numbers of people? Whose fault is it? And is it possible to help such people to experience inspiration and beauty, and the noble impulses that real art touches off in the soul?
I think the question answers itself; but for the moment I don't want to dwell on it, merely to state it. For one reason or another, even under different social systems, the general public is fed with appalling ersatz, and no one is concerned about instilling, or nurturing, taste.

*

Alas, the tragedy is that we do not know how to be free—we demand freedom for ourselves at the expense of others and don't want to waive anything of our own for the sake of someone else: that would be an encroachment upon our own rights and liberties. All of us are infected today with an extraordinary egoism. And that is not freedom; freedom means learning to demand first and foremost of oneself, not of life or of others, and knowing how to give: sacrifice in the name of love.

*

Art ennobles man by the mere fact of its existence. It creates those intangible bonds which draw mankind together into a community, and that moral atmosphere in which, as in a culture medium, art will once again germinate and flourish.

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In the course of my work I have noticed time and again, that if the external emotional structure of a film is based on the author's memory, when impressions of his personal life have been transmuted into screen images, then the film will have the power to move those who see it. But if a scene has been devised intellectually, following the tenets of literature, then no matter how conscientiously and convincingly it is done, it will still leave the audience cold. In fact even though it may strike some people as interesting and compelling when it first comes out, it will have no vital force and will not stand the test of time.

*

The artist has no right for an idea to which he is not socially committed.

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One can only be staggered by the hubris of modern artists if we compare them, say, to the humble builders of Chartres Cathedral whose names are not even known. The artist ought to be distinguished by selfless devotion to duty; but we forgot about that a long time ago.

*

An artist is only justified in his work when it is crucial to his way of life: not some incidental side-line, but the one mode of existence for his reproductive “I”.

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The artist seeks to destroy the stability by which society lives, for the sake of drawing closer to the ideal. Society seeks stability, the artist—infinity.

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In all my films it seemed to me important to try to establish the links which connect people (oilier than those of the flesh), those links which connect me with humanity, and all of us with everything that surrounds us. I need to have a sense that I myself am in this world as a successor, that there is nothing accidental about my being here.

*

I believe that it is always through spiritual crisis that healing occurs. A spiritual crisis is an attempt to find oneself, to acquire new faith. It is the apportioned lot of everyone whose objectives are on the spiritual plane. The soul yearns for harmony, and life is full of discordance. This dichotomy is the stimulus for movement, the source at once of our pain and of our hope: confirmation of our spiritual depths and potential.

*

I think that the reality to which an artist is drawn as a means of saying what he has to about the world, must—if you will forgive the tautology—be real in itself: in other words understood by a person, familiar to him since his childhood.

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I see it as my duty to stimulate reflection on what is essentially human and eternal in each individual soul, and which all too often a person will pass by, even though his fate lies in his hands. He is too busy chasing after phantoms and bowing down to idols. In the end everything can be reduced to the one simple element which is all a person can count upon in his existence: the capacity to love. That element can grow within the soul to become the supreme factor which determines the meaning of a person's life. My function is to make whoever sees my films aware of his need to love and to give his love, and aware that beauty is summoning him.

Chapter VIII: After Nostalgia

I myself went through something similar when I had been away from home for some time: my encounter with another world and another culture and the beginnings of an attachment to them had set up an irritation, barely perceptible but incurable—rather like unrequited love, like a symptom of the hopelessness of trying to grasp what is boundless, or unite what cannot be joined; a reminder of how finite, how curtailed, our experience on earth must be; like a warning sign of the limitations which predetermine your life, imposed not by outward circumstances (those would be easy enough to deal with!) but by your own inner 'taboo'...

I am always lost in admiration for those mediaeval Japanese artists who worked in the court of their Shogun until they had achieved recognition, and then, at the peak of their fame, would change their entire lives by going off in secret to a new place to start working again under a different name and in another style. Some are known to have lived up to five distinct lives. That is freedom!

*

Ultimately I wanted Nostalgia to be free of anything irrelevant or incidental that would stand in the way of my principal objective: the portrayal of someone in a state of profound alienation from the world and himself, unable to find a balance between reality and the harmony for which he longs, in a state of nostalgia provoked not only by his remoteness from home but also by a global yearning for the wholeness of existence.

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In one form or another all my films have made the point that people are not alone and abandoned in an empty universe, but are linked by countless threads with the past and the future; that as each person lives his life he forges a bond with the whole history of mankind...

*

I have always liked people who can't adapt themselves to life pragmatically. There have never been any heroes in my films, but there have always been people whose strength lies in their spiritual conviction and who take upon themselves a responsibility for others. Such people are often rather like children, only with the motivation of adults; from a common-sense point of view their position is unrealistic as well as selfless.

*

I am drawn to the man who is ready to serve a higher cause, unwilling—or even unable—to subscribe to the generally accepted tenets of a worldly 'morality'; the man who recognises that the meaning of existence lies above all in the fight against the evil within ourselves, so that in the course of a lifetime he may take at least one step towards spiritual perfection. For the only alternative to that way is, alas, the one that leads to spiritual degeneration; and our everyday existence and the general pressure to conform makes it all too easy to take the latter path...

Chapter IX: The Sacrifice

It's not a question of mutual love: what nobody seems to understand is that love can only be one-sided, that no other love exists, that in any other form it is not love. If it involves less than total giving, it is not love.

*

He has to solve this dilemma for himself, for only he can discover his own sane spiritual life.

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Again we are reminded of the dictum that our life here on earth was made for happiness, and that nothing else is more important for man.

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Pictures, visual images, are far better able to achieve that end than any words, particularly now, when the word has lost all mystery and magic and speech has become mere chatter, empty of meaning, as Alexander observes. We are being stifled by a surfeit of information, yet at the same time our feelings remain untouched by the supremely important messages that could change our lives.

Conclusion

A true spiritual birth is extraordinarily hard to achieve. It is all too easy to fall for the 'fishers of human souls'; to abandon your unique vocation ostensibly in pursuit of loftier and more general goals, and in doing so to by-pass the fact that you are betraying yourself and the life that was given to you for some purpose.

*

This requires that man should go back to believing in his soul and in its suffering, and link his own actions with his conscience. He has to accept that his conscience will never be at rest as long as what he does is at variance with what he believes; and recognise this through the pain of his soul as it demands he acknowledge his responsibility and his fault.

*

Modern man in his struggle for freedom demands personal liberation in the sense of license for the individual to do anything he wants. But that is an illusion of freedom, and man will only be heading for disenchantment if he pursues it. It takes a long, hard struggle on the part of the individual to liberate his spiritual energies. Upbringing has to be superseded by self-discipline: otherwise he will only be capable of understanding his newly acquired liberty in terms of vulgar consumerism.

*

I think that the experience of the West proves that freedom cannot be taken for granted, like water from a spring that doesn't cost a penny and demands no moral effort from anybody; if that is how he sees it, man can never use the benefits of freedom to change his life for the better. Freedom is not something that can be incorporated into a man's life once and for all: it has to be constantly achieved through moral exertion. In relation to the outside world, man is essentially unfree because he is not alone; but inner freedom he has from the start, if only he can summon the courage and resolution to use it, accepting that his inner experience is of social significance.

*

I think that art was always man's weapon against the material things which threatened to devour his spirit.

*

What is art? (...) Like a declaration of love: the consciousness of our dependence on each other. A confession. An unconscious act that none the less reflects the true meaning of life—love and sacrifice.

*

Perhaps the meaning of all human activity lies in artistic consciousness, in the pointless and selfless creative act?

Ta knjiga je nevjerovatna. Koliki je on bio umjetnik. I koliko je divan način na koji je povezivao poeziju i film, poeziju i filozofiju, poeziju i sve... Pjesnik je bio i pjesnik i svaki istinski umjetnik na svijetu...

Slike samo kao slike. I to što kaže za Haiku, što si gore citirao...
"Haikku cultivates its images in such a way that they mean nothing beyond themselves, and at the same time express so much that it is not possible to catch their final meaning. The more closely the image corresponds to its function, the more impossible it is to constrict it within a clear intellectual formula. The reader of haikku has to be absorbed into it as into nature, to plunge in, lose himself in its depth, as in the cosmos where there is no bottom and no top. "

Iz svega toga, evo i šta je rekao kad su ga pitali da li ima simbolike u filmu "Zerkalo" i da li je ogledalo simbol...

"No! The images themselves are like symbols, but unlike accepted symbols they cannot be deciphered. the image is like a clot of life, and even the author may not be able to work out what it means, let alone the audience. Pushkin's "My sadness is radian" is not a symbol but a an image. Tolstoy's dying Ivan Ilych feels as if he is confined inside a narrow intestine pipe, and cannot get out. What he feels is what the sick mans says. As long ago as the Middle Ages Japanese writers were decrying the interpretation of symbols in art. And quite rightly! The fewer symbols the better! Symbolism is a sign of decadence." 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTvIybrtMqU

Divan dokumentarac. Konačno su ga uploadovali u potpunosti na youtube- prije su postojale samo verzije "Tarkovsky on art","Tarkovsky on solitude", itd. Isječci od par minuta.

Nije mogao ni bolji naziv- A poet in the cinema. Puštaju ga da priča o sebi, o umjetnosti, o svemu... Divno ga je i čitati i slušati.

I gledati. 

Evo za mene onih nekih trenutaka koji tačno jesu upile svu onu magiju slike, haiku slike, zen umjetnosti, prave poezije...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0VJa3HmsJQ 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U7-nYpu_F2M

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FcglyhUre4w#start=0:00;end=6:05;cycles=-1;autoreplay=false;showoptions=false - Ah, kad tu počne levitacija... Tarkovsky je jednom rekao da za njega ne postoji bolji kinematografski opis ljubavi- od levitacije...  I potpuno se slažem. I Bach. I slika Pieter Bruegela. Kako ih je samo nevjerovatno sve ukomponovao u toj sceni...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cG2A6mk7bI (naravno ne može proći bez ove)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlRN1bvVd28 (a ni bez ove)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLN_UanuUTs 

I ne mogu a da ne pomenem na kraju svega ovog Bela Tarra, čovjeka na koji je najviše inspirativnog uticaja imao Andrei Tarkovsky, čovjeka koji je u ovom našem vremenu uspio postići onu metafiziku slike a ne simbola, čovjeka koji je istinski pjesnik u filmu. 

Njegovi filmovi su, za mene, produžetak Tarkovskog.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_d5X2t_s9g8 Werkmeister Harmonies... Ne mogu ni da govorim o tom filmu. Samo mogu da kažem da sam nakon što pregledah sve njegove filmove otišla na put po Mađarskim selima koji je trajao mjesec dana, čisto da osjetim sve ono što osjetih u svim onim scenama- da bih na kraju zaključila da je Bela Tarr, u svojim hiperrealističnim a u isto vrijeme i potpuno vanzemaljskim scenama, u meni pobudio više osjećaja da sam tamo, nego onda kad sam zaista i bila...

Satantango- film od 7 sati. Koji je vrijedan svake sekunde gledanja... Atmosfera te prosto pojede. 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wA2APi0cTYY i https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-6WtlBE0B8 (pogledajte kako se na ovom drugom kamera dostojanstveno počne kretati, i kakve stvari otkriva u toj kafani... Ah!)

Torinskog konja, Tarrovog, takođe treba pogledati. 

I baciti uho na njegovog vječnog kompozitora, koji mu je radio muziku za svaki film- Mihaly Vig-a




 

Edited July 3, 201410 yr by SmiKu

Upravo čitam ovih dana Vajanje u vremenu (srpsko izdanje, koje, btw, teško može da više može da se nađe), po ko zna koji put. To mi je jedna od omiljenih knjiga, a Tarkovski jedan od najuticajnijih ličnosti.

Takođe, ako nisi čitala (a, Uroše, i tebi preporučujem), postoji novosadsko izdanje zbornika tekstova o Tarkovskom koje je priredila Marina Tarkovska, njegova sestra (http://www.kupindo.com/Knjige-o-filmu/15952541_MARINA-TARKOVSKA-TARKOVSKI), koje je takođe teško naći. Tu su sabrani tekstovi tridesetak ljudi koji su radili sa njim, bili njegovi prijatelji, neki su pisani posebno za taj zbornik, neki su samo uvršteni, a napisani ranije. Aleksandar Gordon, Natalija Bondarčuk, Margarita Terehova, Edvard Artemijev, Nikolaj Grinko, Vadim Jusov, Arkadij Strugacki, Sven Nikvist, Akira Kurosava, ... A knjiga počinje citatom Bergmana: 

"Prvi film Tarkovskog delovao je na mene kao čudo. Neočekivano sam se našao na pragu sobe od koje mi, do tog vremena, nisu davali ključeve. Tamo, gde sam ja davno želeo da stignem, Tarkovski se osećao slobodno i sigurno. Našao se čovek koji je umeo da izrazi ono što sam ja uvek želeo, ali nisam uspevao -- to me je ohrabrilo i inspirisalo. Tarkovski je veliki majstor filma, tvorac novog organskog filmskog jezika u kome se život predstavlja kao ogledalo, kao san."

A kad smo kod knjiga o Tarkovskom, postoji još jedna važna knjiga koju je napisala Vida Taranovski Johnson - "The Films of Andrei Tarkovsky: A Visual Fugue", ali nikako da uspem da je skinem (postoji na libgen-u, ali mi download pukne kad god uključim skidanje, pošto je fajl veliki). Ako neko uspe da je skine, biću zahvalan da je podeli sa mnom. 

Što se tiče Bele Tarra, slažem se, odličan reditelj, i preporučujem Torinskog konja (premda su mnogima teški njegovi dugi i tihi kadrovi). Mihaly Vig je takođe sjajan minimalista i njegov spoj sa Tarrom je odličan (kao spoj Tarkovskog sa Edvardom Artemijevim, iako je sam Tarkovski težio tome da muziku potpuno isključi iz filma, služio se šumovima, zvucima prirode i slično, i, kao što Artemijev kaže, "On u njemu [kompozitoru] nije tražio autora muzike već organizatora zvuka filma. I više od toga, kompozitor mu je bio potreban da muzikom podrži ona mesta koja emocionalno on nije umeo ili filmskim jezikom nije mogao da prenese gledaocu.").

A kad već pređoh na muziku, preporučujem Tarkovsky Quartet i Francois Couturiera:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zHS-hV9z2kI

Naravno, Edvard Artemijev takođe: 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V9-pkMOWtd4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-5Gb48znxU

"Pogodilo me je saznanje o Andrejevoj smrti, iako smo svi mi znali za neizbežnost takvog ishoda. Potresenost je bila toliko snažna da ni sada ne znam kako se desilo da sam istog momenta seo u studio i snimio Okean - svoje novo delo koje sam posvetio sećanju na Andreja Tarkovskog. Zašto baš Okean? Počeli smo sa njim od vremena Solarisa i tema Okeana bila je lajt-motiv filma. Okean Solarisa pojavljivao se i u filmu i u muzici kao oličenje Kosmosa, oličenje stvaraoca. Andrej je bio i zauvek će za mene ostati stvaralac. Iako je smrt uzela njegovo telo, sa nama je ostala njegova duša kojoj je suđeno dugo kosmičko putešestvije po uglovima Vaseljene i planete Zemlje. " (Edvard Artemijev)

I, još jedna vredna stvar kod Tarkovskog su njegovi polaroid snimci: http://riowang.blogspot.com/2010/06/tarkovskys-polaroids.html. 

Edited July 11, 201410 yr by Pavdu

Sculpting in Time sam pročitao pre par godina jer me je Uroš naterao. Odlična je knjiga, navodi na razmišljanje, pokreće mnogo tema. Prvo što sam pogledao od Tarkovskog bio je Solaris, iako sam godinama izbegavao da ga pogledam. Zašto? Jednostavno, kao srednjoškolac sam gutao SF, a Stanislav Lem mi je bio jedan od omiljenih pisaca ovog žanra. Mislim da sam Solaris pročitao bar triput, a verovatno i koji put više, pa sam se plašio da će me film iznervirati (kako to obično biva sa knjigama i filmovima). Međutim, svideo mi se, jedan od retkih filmova koji su dorasli knjizi, a u mnogo čemu je i nadilaze. 

Sculpting in Time sam pročitao pre par godina jer me je Uroš naterao. Odlična je knjiga, navodi na razmišljanje, pokreće mnogo tema. Prvo što sam pogledao od Tarkovskog bio je Solaris, iako sam godinama izbegavao da ga pogledam. Zašto? Jednostavno, kao srednjoškolac sam gutao SF, a Stanislav Lem mi je bio jedan od omiljenih pisaca ovog žanra. Mislim da sam Solaris pročitao bar triput, a verovatno i koji put više, pa sam se plašio da će me film iznervirati (kako to obično biva sa knjigama i filmovima). Međutim, svideo mi se, jedan od retkih filmova koji su dorasli knjizi, a u mnogo čemu je i nadilaze. 

E, a sam Tarkovski za Solaris kaže da je njegov najlošiji film (meni je sjajan, na više nivoa). Imao je dosta problema sa naučnom fantastikom, i često govori o težini ekranizacije romana/novele (kao i sa Ivanovim detinjstvom). U Vajanju u vremenu su sjajni delovi u kojima govori o tome kakav odnos film treba da ima prema književnosti, šta je zajedničko, šta ne treba nikako deliti, i u Ivanovom detinjstvu i u Solarisu je to uspešno ilustrovao. A što se tiče samog odnosa sa naučnom fantastikom, postoji negde zapisano (ili sam to gledao u nekom intervjuu) da je rekao da u Solarisu nije uspeo ono što je hteo sa korišćenjem naučne fantastike, ali da je u Stalkeru time bio zadovoljan.

I, još jedna interesantna anegdota iz života Tarkovskog. Natalija Bondarčuk, koja je glumila Hari u Solarisu, zapravo je kad je imala 13 godina dala Tarkovskom Lemov roman, njen omiljeni. I kasnije, kada je počinjao rad na filmu, nije je uključio u film (iako je voleo da ona igra tu ulogu) jer je bila previše mlada. Kasnije, kad joj je Larisa Šepitko, na preporuku Tarkovskog (bez bilo kakve probe!), dala ulogu u svom filmu "Ti i ja" (1971), Tarkovski joj je dao ulogu.

Meni je neverovatno kakva je on osoba bio i, kao što reče SmiKu, "divno ga je i čitati i slušati", svaki put me neverovatno umiri i u isto vreme da ogroman entuzijazam i inspiraciju.

Znam da je offtopic, ali kad smo već kod Stanislava Lema, ovaj trivia podatak me je svojevremeno zabavio:

"Lem singled out only one American SF writer for praise, Philip K. Dick. Dick, however, perhaps due to his mental illness, believed that Stanisław Lem was a false name used by a composite committee operating on orders of the Communist party to gain control over public opinion, and wrote a letter to the FBI to that effect."

Ćao ljudi, veća neko vreme pokušavam na sve načine da dođem do Vajanja u vremenu, da li neko slučajno zna može li još uvek negde da se kupi, nova ili polovna, svejedno? Ili, alternativno, da li je možda ima negde u PDFu? Hvala unapred