Jake Seven
Mary Beth Reed 2012
USA | Format: 16mm | color | sound | 3:30 minutes
“A few lingering brush-flicks, olive-drops of color splitting open on the vines… the roulette ball of our random lives dropped i...展开nto the basket on some universal wheel… and the road keeps winding out before him like a wick”—exerpts from Steve Gehrke’s poem “Jackson Pollock Driving.” Jake Seven reflects on the death of the two jakes—my dad and our furry homage to his nickname—mixed with musings on abstract art and ephemerality.—M.B.R.