On watching yourself watch
What rewatching your own footage has in common with sitting across from someone reviewing their week out loud — and why both get harder the second time.
Look twice. The second look is the work.
Start the sheetA filmmaker, artist and researcher working at the seam between what is seen and what is felt — in Istanbul, in three disciplines, on one question.
Everything shot, built or written, laid out the way an editor lays out a roll — in order, uncut, waiting to be marked.
Hover a frame to mark it — the way a select gets circled
Three pieces that earned the circle — longer work, shown with the reasoning intact.
Fourteen minutes with an editor who starts noticing the gaps she trained herself to ignore. Shot on 16mm and cut by hand, because the delay between deciding and seeing changes what you decide.
Read the projectSix months in the reception area of a therapy practice: the unscripted minutes before the scripted hour. Nobody performs in a waiting room, which is precisely what makes it worth filming.
Read the projectA short-run zine setting case-study writing beside frame stills, asking what a camera and a clinician actually share. The answer both disciplines keep circling: attention is a technique, not a mood.
Read the projectWritten from the edit suite and the consulting room, usually about the same problem in two vocabularies.
What rewatching your own footage has in common with sitting across from someone reviewing their week out loud.
ReadOn installation work, memory, and why a chair can hold more grief than a photograph of the same room.
ReadPinkBlackYellow sits where film, art and psychology stop being separate: each chases the same thing through a different instrument — a lens, a material, a sentence.
Filmmaker & director
Documentary, fiction and the experimental space between. Drawn to the gap between what a subject means to show and what a camera finds anyway. Treats every cut as an argument that has to be defensible.
Artist & researcher
Installations, objects and printed matter that ask why some things stay and others dissolve. Writes about the work in the same breath as making it, on the theory that the two were never separable.
Psychologist & collaborator
Brings clinical training to the room — not as a therapist to the work, but as a reader of pattern, language, and the things people repeat without hearing themselves repeat them.
Commissions, screenings, collaborations, or a question that doesn't fit any of those.
hello@pinkblackyellow.comTwo kinds of writing, one index. The letter goes out when there is something worth sending — not on a schedule. The notes are longer, slower, and argue with themselves.
Numbered issues sent by email. What was shot that month, what got cut and why, and one thing read that changed the edit. Irregular by design.
Longer pieces written between the edit suite and the consulting room, usually circling the same problem in two vocabularies until one of them gives.
No cadence promised, no tracking pixels, one link to leave at the bottom of every issue.
Not wired to a provider yet — see the comment in the source.
What rewatching your own footage has in common with sitting across from someone reviewing their week out loud — and why both get harder the second time.
Four minutes removed from a fourteen-minute film, listed with the reason for each. The last one is still bothering me.
On installation work, memory, and why a chair can hold more grief than a photograph of the same room.
Notes from filming a reception area, plus the consent conversation that took longer than the shoot.
Cutting a scene means deciding what gets left out. So does therapy. So, eventually, does memory.
What went wrong with the February shoot, in the order it went wrong, with the contact sheets that proved it.
On filming people who have forgotten they are being filmed, and what that forgetting is actually made of.
It is not a slate. It is the moment everyone in the room agrees to start paying attention at once.
Nothing in this stream yet.