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down, but then, when you were done with that film, you were ready to be involved with film at a level comparable to what you'd achieved in music, painting, and sculpture.
Snow:
Yeah, although
New York Eye and Ear Control
was interesting in itself. As far as I know, I invented the idea of putting art worksparts of
The Walking Woman Works
out in the world, and then documenting the results in another work. The photographic piece,
Four to Five
[1962], was the very first time I did this, and the film expanded the idea. The business of making a work by documenting some action that you take hadn't happened yet, as far as I know, and I'm kind of proud of the priority of it. On one hand,
New York Eye and Ear Control
was another transformation of
The Walking Woman,
but I was also trying to work with the possibilities of the medium, especially with duration.
One of the things I wanted to do in the film was to bring two aspects of myself together. I used to refer to it as a classical side and a romantic side, or Apollonian and Dionysian. At the time, I felt I was rather schizophrenic. At any rate, the imagery is measured and calm, but beside it is this expressionist, romantic music. Most of the action is in the sound.
I already felt objections to the general use of sound in films, especially to the way music is subordinated to image. Even the greatest work of the greatest artist, J. S. Bach, is often used to set up a certain attitude in commercial films, and I've hated that for years. I wanted to do something where the music could
survive
and not only be support for the image. I think I accomplished that in
New York Eye and Ear Control
.
MacDonald:
Was
New York Eye and Ear Control
shown a lot? At what point did you become part of the New York underground film scene?
Snow:
Before Joyce and I got to New York, Bob Cowan was already there. He's from Toronto. In fact, he went to the high school I went to, Upper Canada College. And when Joyce and I went to New York on visits, we would see him occasionally. Sometimes we'd drive all night, and we'd park outside his place in Brooklyn and have a nap, then wake him up at eight o'clock. We used to get stoned and start driving, it was very nice. One time I drove all the way from Toronto to New York whistling Charlie Parker and Thelonious Monk tunes. But anyway, on one of these visits Bob said, "There's two friends of mine coming over with a film they just made. Do you want to see it?" And it was George and Mike Kuchar. They were nineteen. They had just made
A Town Called Tempest
[1963.].
MacDonald:
A wonderful film!
Snow:
Their accents knocked us out. Anyway, we set up this little 8mm projector and showed the film. And Joyce and I were amazed. It