Exploring memory and loss in conversation with experimental filmmaker Solomon Nagler
Renowned Canadian filmmaker Solomon Nagler visited Kolkata for the screening of his evocative work at the Emami Art Experimental Art Film Festival (EAEFF) held at Emami Art. Known for his fragmented storytelling and exploration of themes like memory, displacement, and history, Solomon’s films—Notes on Gesture, Perhaps/We, Song of the Holy Fire, and Fugue Nefesh— challenge traditional narratives while engaging deeply with the tangible and philosophical dimensions of cinema. He shares insights into his journey, creative processes, and ongoing projects with Indulge.
How did you get into experimental filmmaking, and what does experimental mean in the context of your work?
In Canada, we have cooperatives, a group of artists who come together to teach each other how to make films. That’s where I learnt filmmaking from other artists, creating works that were unconventional. Initially, we didn’t even call them experimental, but as my films began screening at festivals, I immersed myself in its philosophies. I feel the term ‘experimental’ might be slightly outdated. Perhaps terms like ‘artist cinema’ or ‘expanded cinema’ fit better, as they represent cinema as a medium for individualistic, storytelling, that pushes the boundaries of representation.
Your films often explore themes of memory and displacement. Why do these resonate so strongly with you?
Family histories play a significant role in my work. Cinema itself was invented to solidify memory, allowing it to be revisited repeatedly. My films act as a commentary on this unique ability of cinema to reinterpret memories—whether they’re close to us or rooted in fear. For me, filmmaking is a way to process personal and collective experiences, using the medium to explore how we remember and deal with emotions that define our lives.
What inspired your focus on human gestures in Notes on Gesture, and how did you tackle the challenges of capturing their ephemeral nature?
The body and cinema have always fascinated me. Early cinema, in many ways, sought to catalog how bodies move in space. Yet, when gestures are filmed, they become alienated from their immediacy. I’m interested in how experimental cinema can bridge that gap, using impressionistic techniques to evoke a sense of feeling rather than simply presenting the visual.
Your films are often fragmented. How do you decide when to fragment a narrative or visual?
My filmmaking follows a process-based approach, where the film evolves as I make it. This inherently introduces fragmentation, which emerges organically rather than being imposed. Fragmentation for its own sake can feel forced, but when it arises naturally, it offers fresh ways to explore themes and challenge conventional storytelling.
You’re deeply invested in the materiality of film. How does this relationship influence your creative choices?
I’m fascinated by how time manifests in film. By physically engaging with the medium—scratching, painting, or disrupting its properties—I introduce subjective elements into what is often seen as an objective tool. This process emphasises not just the image but how the image came to be, offering viewers a layered, sensorial experience that underscores the materiality of the film itself.
Can you share details about your current project in India?
I’m collaborating with Alexandre Larose on a film in Kerala about the former Jewish community in Kochi. Supported by a Canadian government grant, we’re exploring how the vestiges of this community—its ruins, architecture, and spiritual writings—can be captured through light and time. Places like Jaipur’s celestial observatory have profoundly inspired me; they reveal how architecture and light intersect to create a kind of cinema—primitive yet incredibly advanced. For this project, we’ve brought 15 rolls of Super 8 film and cameras.