The Art & Times of William Farley : 03 of 07
By Robert Anbian, Release Print, Vol. XVIII No. 9, November 1995I've always thought of you as a classic modernist, the art being essentially a spiritual process, about a freeing oneself from the prison of self and progressing toward a greater unity .. is that a fair assessment?
I probably wouldn't have put it so eloquently, but I do believe that I have bumbled my way into different perspectives, different environments. You know we're talking about hindsight here. Some of the pieces I've done have been commissions, but, generally, I've tended to take the opportunity or inclination to investigate something that interested me and that for periods of times absorbed my imagination. For the most part, that sustains me. Of course, I have in my studio office all the certificates from film festivals and grants I've gotten over the years, just to remind myself. Because making films is really very ethereal. The idea of making something that comes alive only in front of an audience is pretty esoteric. A lot of times, if you're struggling, you can forget that your work has gotten out there.
Unlike many other filmmakers at your stage, and after having made two features, you continue to make shorts.The last feature film I made [Of Men and Angels] was in 1989. It got a European deal, but didn't get one in the U.S. and ultimately didn't pay for itself For the following three, years, I worked full time on a [feature] script and was not able to get the money to make it. I realized the writing alone was not nurturing me, that I had to continue to make films to keep my spirit alive. That it was more important to make films than to be constantly reaching for the brass ring of some kind of commercial product, or something that's going to get into general distribution. I mean [broke] is a poem. What's ironic in media for me is that whether I'm making a ten-minute film, or a 90-minute film, every one of them brings me to my knees. Every one humbles me in my lack of knowledge and understanding to make them work. I finally wrestle them to some conclusion that sometimes I'm satisfied with and sometimes not. But ... I've never been able to talk myself out of the idea that my purpose is to tell a story, in particular in film. I have never been able to talk myself out of that fact. With all the time I've been doing this, I still can't talk myself out of it. I don't know whether I have made a contribution or not, whether I've succeeded in any way in relationship to my expectations. But I still feel that my work is to continue doing it.
I hope younger artists know about empowering themselves in this way as they set out to face the usually cruel marketplace.I worry about the generation of film and videomakers that are coming up because of the economic pressures on them. The good news is their age provides them with a level of energy that is going to overcome a certain amount of the collective inertia of the sinking empire. I hope their work gives them enough personal satisfaction to sustain them longer than their bursts of youth. I'm very hopeful because I feel we're desperate for storytellers. We're in a society that needs new stories. We need new myths. We need new heroes. We need new inspiration and understanding about what's it like to be alive in this part of the 20th century. And those storytellers are often making short videotapes and short films. I hope some day they're making CD-ROMS. A world without them would be a very bleak place. They're a fabric of the culture that's not celebrated, but without them .... well you know, I just got back from the East Coast. A friend of mine is very involved with trying to save the meadowlark. It's a songbird that's disappearing in New England because the land they like to nest in is more valuable for development. You know, back there, with all the pressures of surviving, the economics of an industrial area that's now suffering from no work, people don't care about whether the birds sing or not.
Astounding circumstance, isn't it?In a world that doesn't favor songbirds, what are we going to do with the people who make poems and personal videotapes [laughter]? I mean, it's got to be a rough road for them.