Mary Zournazi, Associate Professor, School of Social Sciences University of New South Wales Sydney
Dogs of Democracy est un film documentaire réalisé sous la forme d’un essai sur les chiens errants de la ville d’Athènes et sur les gens qui s’occupent d’eux, en même temps qu’une histoire de la crise économique grecque racontée à travers les yeux des chiens. En examinant les différentes techniques de réalisation d’un film, j’explore comment aborder certaines questions éthiques liées à l’étude des crises sociales et de la souffrance humaine. En m’appuyant sur les concepts clés que nous avons développé avec le réalisateur allemand Wim Wenders dans notre livre Inventing Peace, tout en reprenant des éléments fondamentaux du travail de Pier Paolo Pasolini sur le cinema et le montage, je souhaite créer un espace de réflexion qui permette de comprendre l’expérience de la violence et de la souffrance, sans les reproduire. Ainsi, je propose une autre manière de répondre à la violence et à la tragédie du monde contemporain.
Mots-clés : Attention, Perception, Tendresse, Paix, Méthode, Documentaire, Crise, Grèce, Chiens
Dogs of Democracy is an essay style documentary about the stray dogs of Athens and the people who take care of them, but equally it is a story about the Greek economic crisis told through the eyes of the dogs. By looking at different techniques involved in the making of the film, I explore how to approach some of the ethical issues involved in the documenting of social crises and human suffering. By building on key concepts that the German film director Wim Wenders and I developed in our book Inventing Peace, and rethinking some key elements from Italian film maker Pier Paolo Pasolini’s work on cinema and montage, I consider how to create a space to document peoples’ experience in relation to violence and suffering without reproducing it, and by doing so, I provide some alternative ways of responding to contemporary violence and tragedy.
Keywords : Care, Perception, Tenderness, Peace, Method, Documentary, Crisis, Greece, Dogs
My essay style documentary Dogs of Democracy1 was born out of a curiosity about the stray dogs of Athens and the people who take care of them. In 2014, I travelled for the first time to Athens in search of my Greek "roots". Although I went in search of my identity, I had arrived in the middle of Greece’s worst economic crisis and what has also been argued as the worst humanitarian crisis in its history. I could feel the tension on the streets, but at the same time, I noticed something else, something quite unexpected and unique. All round Syntagma Square, the city’s main square, live the stray dogs of Athens. The dogs seemed to wander the streets like "citizens" and they seemed to be very much part of the city life. I became interested in the dogs, and how they were looked after. I found out that many different people — both individuals and collectives — dedicate their time and lives to the animals. This relationship of care and concern for the animals in a time of economic crisis and personal suffering opened a series of questions: what might this animal-human relationship say about questions of care? How might it reflect our ideas of community and our sense of belonging?
In my view, these questions revolve around the role and responsibility of the filmmaker in documenting experience: how to ethically document the stories and experiences of others through visual means, and what this means for the production and circulation of images. These questions and concerns sit within the framework of ongoing collaboration with the German filmmaker Wim Wenders on issues of peace, perception and the art of filmmaking. In 2013, Wenders and I published Inventing Peace — a dialogue on perception2 — which approaches the question of peace: how to imagine and conceive peace – since it has yet to exist in ethical or political forms?
From our encounters and investigations into peace it seems that the main hindrance to peace revolves around the question of how we look at the world but do not see it when there is so much violence, injustice and suffering. Ours is the century of the image as never before. There are so many images circulating the globe with ever increasing speed that we look at all the time, but we do not have the means or the skills any more to see. What are the ethical and moral consequences of looking but not seeing? We consider this question as one of the fundamental questions of our times.
French philosopher Maurice Merleau-Ponty once noted that the subject of perception is the subject of power; in other words, how we see is what prescribes the ethical and power relations that constitute our everyday and social worlds. More precisely, he writes:
the problems of knowing what is the subject of the State, of war, etc. are exactly the same type of problem of knowing what is the subject of perception: one will not clear up the philosophy of history except by working out the problem of perception. »3
As Italian filmmaker Michelangelo Antonioni wrote, seeing is the necessity of a filmmaker, seeing is central to the art of filmmaking4. We can say cinema makes us aware of time; each film is made of different moments that all together transform the space and time of seeing. In this context, this is what we might call the architecture of a film: how the different moments are assembled together to build different stories and visions of the world. In this way, cinema opens the potential for a modern ethics as it relates to how we see and how we make sense of the world – cinema conveys uncanny fiction as well as a kind of truth. It was our mutual interest in ways of seeing and in cinema as a space for modern ethics that brought Wim Wenders and me together to explore the problems of perception today.
To investigate these problems of perception we drew on the work of the French philosopher Henri Bergson5. For Bergson, the problem of perception in a philosophical as well as an ordinary sense is that of badly stated questions or problems: humans tend to pose questions that assume "correct" answers or absolute truths. So while it is necessary to acknowledge how the structures of war and peace frame so much our cultural habits and perceptions of peace, rather than repeating these habits of mind and memory, we must pose new questions.
So what is peace? And how do we invent it?
These questions became our methodological as well as empirical approach to peace; in other words, how to create a visual and moral vocabulary for peace in today’s social and cultural environments. Furthermore, Bergson’s notion of intuition as a kind of method for life which involves ‘entering into’ a problem provides a way of addressing peace and its invention. As Bergson argues, intuitive methods involve a sympathetic relationship to others, and this method may enable us to consider the issues at stake in the manifestation of real life problems6. Developing Bergson’s intuitive approach and following from Martin Buber, I would suggest that this "intuition" involves becoming aware or genuine responsibility toward all that is experienced and seen; what Buber would call a genuine dialogue between ourselves and others.7 From this perspective, peace – rather than being a static idea – is a continual process of transformation and change in creation and circulation of images in the world today.
This paper is a reflection on some methods or techniques to present and engage with new forms of image making and creative resistance. I consider some of the intuitive approaches to peace through the making of Dogs of Democracy, and how the materiality of film as a social practice can open out how we can conceive and consider elements of tenderness and nonviolence. By bringing together my work on peace and reworking some key elements from Italian filmmaker Pier Paolo Pasolini’s work on cinema and montage, I consider how to create a space to document peoples’ experience in relation to violence and suffering without reproducing it, and by doing this to open out different ways of responding to contemporary violence and tragedy.
One of the main issues in Dogs of Democracy was to document the animal-human relationships to explore the diversity of human bonds and relationships unfolding in Greece. But most often the Greek crisis has been portrayed through a sense of tragedy — the usual images involve violent clashes between riot police and protestors — and in this sense of tragic determination there is a continual misunderstanding and incomprehension of peoples’ everyday experience of social upheaval, economic injustice and human suffering. We often see this in the form of images taken through news reportage, or with a variety of new technologies that provide a perspective on "reality" and in this framing of reality there is a paradoxical problem: on the one hand there is a sense of immediacy and truth which is part of how events are circulated whether through mainstream press or through forms of social media as "live footage". Even more so, the sense of active engagement vis-à-vis smart phones and digital technologies produces a kind of personal testimony to the event that legitimizes a certain authenticity and knowledge about what is being recorded.
I argue that this form of approaching reality rather than bringing us closer to the "truth" alienates us further from it: the "person" taking the shot is no longer "entering into" the experience, but rather recording a point of view, and in this framing of the event the different social and historical relationships and connections to the event are lost. Often, the first habitual response to violence is based on limited points of view that lead to conflictual modes of image making; the moments that occur before, after or alongside violent events are often left out and ignored in the chronicling and remembering of events. I suggest that filmmakers have a responsibility toward how they shoot and frame material to provide alternative ways to address the cultural habits of violence and the "immediacy of social experience". I will now turn to this discussion.
Some of the writings of the Italian film director Pier Paolo Pasolini provide ways to consider questions of perception and the documentation of social and political crisis. In his article written in the late 1960s, Observations on the Long Take, Pasolini discusses the implications of framing "reality" and the recording of events, and argues how the live documentation of experience "is always incomplete and ‘incomprehensible". Pasolini gives the example of John F Kennedy’s assassination in 1963. For Pasolini, what we essentially see in one of the major historical events in U.S. history is a long take that records the fatal gunshot that led to JFK’s death. Although the recording of the event was live and in many ways it presents the truth of the event, what Pasolini suggests is that all other points of views are missing in the long take and historical replay of this event: for example, the point of view of Kennedy himself, and Jacqueline Kennedy’s response, that of the assassin himself, the accomplices etc.
For Pasolini, the technologies through which we see — whether it is through a camera or whether it is through human sensory perception — are always in the "present tense" 8, and therefore we can never witness a whole situation or event. Our way of looking can only provide a "subjective account" — even if the recording of an event is demonstrating some "actual" truth. In other words, the materiality of what is seen is always a partial view. He writes:
Subjectivity is thus the maximum conceivable limit of any audiovisual technique. It is impossible to perceive reality as it happens if not from a single point, and this point of view is always that of a perceiving subject. »9
If we take seriously the role of the long take in the recording of events and its limitations, we are able to open out how we can critically assess and co-ordinate different ways of ‘looking’. From this perspective, the subjectivity and objectivity of events involves the recognition of how we produce them. In Dogs of Democracy, the aim was to establish, what Pasolini might call a "simultaneity of presents", in other words to provide multiple frameworks or point of views that can include other ways to approach the crisis outside of the usual violent protests and images, and how to consider the relations between the characters and subject matter of the film.
In this way, I decided to shoot primarily from a "dogs' point of view". Although, of course the subjective stance of the dogs cannot be assumed in the film, what the perspective enables both physically and conceptually, is a different way of looking at the city, a different way of seeing the crisis. It became important for me to learn the habits and relations between animal-human bonds to provide "different ways" of seeing the city of Athens, peoples’ everyday experience. While I was filming, I spent months wandering around the city of Athens following dogs as they led me to different encounters and adventures, and I began to learn from the animals. The dogs provided me with a way of seeing the world that was substantially different to my usual habits and to my usual ways of seeing. It was in the observing and partaking in the dog’s reality that something different changed in mine. I began to crouch down and film them from their height, their eye level — and somehow in this stance I was able to inhabit the space of other (the dog in this case)— and in this stance a bond or relationship was formed.
Primarily, I used a handheld camera for all my animal and human characters. This practice of shooting allowed a certain intimacy and relationship to be formed between myself and my participants without the mediation and distraction of others. In the human case, it enabled feelings and thoughts to be candidly shared; with the animals they became familiar with me, and my cultural habits and they soon relaxed as I followed them around the city. A lot of the dogs, for instance, would come and smell the camera lens – as if it too was a living part of the encounter. This way of using the camera became part of the flow of the life rather than a direct response to action; the camera moved with the experience. In this way, the camera provides a way rendering "visible" encounters with others: bodily gestures, movements, glimpses, facial expressions that the human eye may miss and through this process it can render a "sincere witness" toward life as Federico Fellini might put it.10
In these encounters, I learnt something else about the city, and I also learnt something else about the content of my film: how I placed together the multiple "points of view" or subjectivities involved in documenting the crisis became a question of tenderness and care. In this sense, working on the film became a love letter to Greece, a way of lovingly trying to place in proximity the "objects" of my research, in other words, "being with my characters" – the way of relating to them in both how I shot the film but also how I put together different moments within the film itself.
It is in this regard that Pasolini argues for the importance of "montage" or the role of editing in a film, and what editing does is "render the present past" – in other words, it gives a historicity to the different elements and subjectivities of experience, and this can show the glimpses, the moments of difference that can occur in the present moment11. As Pasolini notes: "… as soon as montage intervenes, when we pass from cinema to film (they are very different, just as langue is different from parole), the present becomes the past: a past that, for cinematographic and not aesthetic reasons, is always in the present mode (that is, it is a historic present)."12 This is an essential task of the filmmaker: to put together elements of a film that can show the gestures and habits of a culture, and in Dogs of Democracy, this involved moments in the film which bring together animal and human perspectives.
Pasolini argues further that montage is what death is to life — the organization of moments and reflections of what constitutes a life – it is the different moments, the different fragments of experience that provide the opportunities and potential to extract different possible meanings from a situation. And this is achieved through the recognition and awareness of the architecture of film, and how this architecture can help to extend our methods and techniques for social reflection. In other words, this is the attention to detail that we give to each moment in a film, and the importance and recognition of how we frame the "objects" of our research. In this regard, "what constitutes a life" in documentary film is precisely the need to investigate and pay attention to the intricate moments and details of peoples’ lives and experience.
Coming back to Pasolini’s reflections on the long take and how montage can bring together often fragmentary and incomplete elements of the present, there is also an added dimension here: the time and space internal to the film’s architecture. I would like to take Pasolini one step further and suggest that the way we shoot material and the ways in which we assemble them together through montage is about a proximity of relations. Essentially, this is about the rhythm or pace of images. In film, this involves rhythm and the proximity between shots to produce a certain "air of truth". It is in this proximity that we can move from the violence of images to a tenderness and consideration of how we put images together. In this sense, we can allow images a space to "breathe" so that we can feel the rhythm of peoples’ experience, instead of the immediacy of action. In other words, how material is organized and the pace in which it is delivered is the time of action, and in this time, we can enable a certain closeness or proximity between different moments and relationships in film. As Orson Welles once noted: "The true shape of a film is musical"13.
For example, in Dogs of Democracy this became part of the music and the image composition: I spent weeks and months listening to K.BHTA14, my composer’s music and tracks that he generously donated to the film. While I was listening to the music, I started to develop a relationship between the music and the dogs, and I started organize which tracks might fit particular animals and scenes; and which elements of the music could convey the expression and mood of the words conveyed by the human characters. The relationship between the music and the animals, and people and their recollections of experience became part of the flow of the film, and the music became part of the overall rhythm of the film’s structure and argument.
This rhythm and structure was realized through the orchestration and organization of shots. For example, the film is one hour long and there are 400 shots in total, for the average documentary today there are between 800-1000 shots; the pace of the story and its rhythm gives some time to digest the issues that come before us and provides a space for reflection, and this is what I consider to be a tenderness toward the image — the time it takes to recognize and experience others.
Essentially, what filmmaking can offer is a certain materiality and expression of social experience that differs from how we can conceive and write about it; it can allow us to ‘see’ and to think in particular ways. In his article ‘The Cinema of Poetry’15, Pasolini establishes how cinema and the conveying of images is different from the written word — in many ways, what the "cinema of poetry" or the process of filmmaking can do is provide visual and material expressions of events that writing and texts can only allow us to imagine and conceptualize. In this regard, the act of looking allows us to see others, not just "think" them. Pasolini gives an example of two different historical "looks":
It is evident that the “look” directed by a peasant (the more so if he comes from an underdeveloped region) and by a cultivated bourgeois upon the same object embraces two different realities: not only do the two men perceive two different “series” of things, but also, the same thing offers two different “faces” to the two “looks”… »16
Pasolini points out that the different accounts and "looks" offered in cinema escapes all easy codification but what it does involve is the apprehension of a certain kind of reality and in this apprehension we can look at the world differently. For Pasolini, cinema is most always "parabolic" and never a direct rendition of conceptual thought, however, following the French philosopher Gilles Deleuze I would argue that cinema is thinking in action.17 And so, how we assemble the different looks or points of view in a film enables the action of thought; filmmaking, then, is a medium to challenge our conceptual apparatus and to open out different spaces of conceiving and considering historical events and established historical truths.
As John Berger once wrote "one of evil’s principal modes of being is looking beyond (with indifference) that which is before the eyes" 18. It is therefore a necessity to consider how we "look", and how through a more intuitive awareness of others we can establish different ways of relating to and documenting experience. This is what Bergson might mean by "entering into" a problem through a kind of sympathetic relation, but also the becoming aware or observation of others becomes part of the means of the technology to enable a movement toward life and its experience.
While I was documenting the economic crisis in Greece, the migrant crisis was also unfolding. This took me to the island of Lesvos. This island along with other Greek Islands close to Turkey was receiving most of the refugees by boat. I did some filming of the situation from the point view of migrant children who travel unaccompanied under these extreme conditions. On the ferry back to the port of Piraeus in Athens, a young Syrian boy stood in front of my camera, he asked in Arabic "are you shooting me" — then he stepped out of the frame, and then he stepped back into the frame and he stood there for a while, and then left. His "naturalness" and his way of intervening in the space was a relation of proximity – the ways in which he disrupted my camera and the "long shot" provided me witha moment in which his "look" and his question gave me two realities: my subjective view as the filmmaker and his as the "subject" of the film. What he gave to me was the opportunity to see him through his subjective "look", and it is in a moment like this that we can recognize the humanity of others.
It is in this respect that "being with characters" involves not objectifying or judging them and this involves a certain generosity and care toward them. This is achieved not only through the way we create points of view: the multiple variations of long, medium and close takes, but also the very rhythm and establishment of relations in and between the film’s flow and relationship to time and events. This rhythm involves care and concern for others – a tenderness for the reality that passes before the camera, and for the way that this reality is assembled.
The idea of tenderness for images relates to a form of hospitality – or what I call following the Greek word for the term, filoxenia which relates to a certain care and kindness that we have toward others and ourselves. In the film’s narration, I explore this "kindness between animals and humans" but it is also realized through the structure and lay out of the film by bringing attention to the street animals and their conditions in close proximity to their human counterparts. From a philosophical point of view, this resonates with Pasolini’s idea of what constitutes a life: the different moments of time and experience that are assembled to convey particular kinds of reality on screen.
For instance, one of my main human characters, Jina Politi, speaks with reverence and feeling about her relationship with the street animals, and in particular her remembrance of Loukanikos, a stray dog who attended every "anti-austerity" movement in 2010 and 2011 at Syntagma Square protests. I held the camera on Jina’s face and followed her bodily expressions for as long as she told the story of Loukanikos. By doing this, I was able to edit and assemble the film to provide a context for her recollections and the time it needed to be seen and felt on screen. I was also able to connect her memories and encounters of stray dogs to other forms of animal kindness and behavior.
In particular I tell the story of the philosopher Emmanuel Levinas and his encounter with "Bobby" the Dog during his time in a Nazi concentration camp. The animal-human bonds and the capacity for recognizing the humanity of others is woven through the rhythm and pace of images, in other words, the proximity of feeling and experience as it is conveyed and assembled in the film and its depiction of differing social realities.
In a different way, the philosopher Emmanuel Levinas in his article on ‘Peace and Proximity’ writes of the necessary relations of proximity:
…in ethical peace, the relation is with the inassimilable other, the irreducible other, the other, unique. The unique alone is irreducible and absolutely other!
But the unicity of the unique is the unicity of the beloved. The unicity of the unique signifies in love. Hence peace as love. Not that the unicity of alterity is henceforth thought of as some subjective illusion of the lover. Quite the contrary, the subjective as such would be precisely the breakthrough – across the impassive essence of being, and across the rigor of its logical forms and genera, and across the violence of its perseverance in being toward the unique, toward the absolutely other, through love, human proximity, and peace. A proximity different from some “short distance” measured in geometrical space separating the one from the others. Peace different from the simple unity of the diverse integrated by synthesis. Peace as a relation with the other in its logically indiscernible alterity, in its alterity irreducible to the logical identity of a final difference attaching to a genus. Peace as an incessant watch over this alterity and this unicity. Proximity as the impossible assumption of difference, impossible definition, impossible integration. Proximity as impossible appearing. » 19
A "caring look", then, in the process of filmmaking links very much to the proximity that Levinas calls us to, and what Martin Buber argues for in the genuine responsibility for what we see and encounter in this world, and how this exists only when there is real responding to each other, for what happens to one, for what is seen, felt and heard. For Buber, genuine responsibility arises "between man and man" but this relationship is not limited to the traffic between humans; it is about becoming aware of all things, the world as we encounter it20.
In the context of Greece, this becoming aware concerns the need to restore dignity and hope as well as the conditions for democracy. In terms of the film, it is the restoration of grace and dignity to both animals and humans that can provide a different approach to the documentation and experience of violence. In this sense, the act of seeing can become an evolutionary as well as a revolutionary act.
In this paper, I have given an account of some of the techniques involved in the making of my essay style documentary, Dogs of Democracy, and how these methods or techniques involve a certain ethics and approach to film making so as to respond to and take seriously the lives of others. I have argued that how we approach filmmaking and how we document social experience are closely related. In this regard, I have suggested that how we frame, shoot and assemble peoples’ lives and conditions is an essential part of social research.
As filmmakers and researchers, then, there is an ethical responsibility in how we document and produce creative material. By paying attention to the detail — the technologies we use and how we use them — it may be possible to approach reality. This approach may enable us to produce and participate in an ecology of images: the potential to document experience that challenges, reframes and creates new modes of thinking and action. And it is through the tenderness and care in the act of filmmaking itself that we may be able to promote different forms of creative expression that can acknowledge the violence and tragedy in our lives without reproducing it.
This approach to film making is one of the long-term goals of my research: to create a visual and moral vocabulary for peace so that we can learn how to see and look at the world differently.
*ALL FILM EXCERPTS ARE FROM DOGS OF DEMOCRACY (2016):
2 Wim Wenders and Mary Zournazi (2013) Inventing Peace, London: IB Tauris.
3 Maurice Merleau-Ponty (1969) The Visible and Invisible, trans. Alphonso Lingis, Evanston, IL : Northwestern University Press, p. 196.
4 See Michelangelo Antonioni’s (1996) The Architecture of Vision, ed. Marga Cottino-Jones, New York: Marisilio Publishers.
5 See Henri Bergson (1991) Matter and Memory, trans. Nancy Margaret Paul and W. Scott Palmer New York: Zone Books.
6 See Henri Bergson (1992) The Creative Mind: An Introduction to Metaphysics, trans. Mabelle L. Andison, New York: Citadel Press.
7 See Martin Buber (2004 ) I and Thou, New York: Routledge Classics.
8 Ibid p 3.
9 Ibid p 3.
10 Italian filmmaker Federico Fellini spoke of cinema at its best as a type of sincerity; cinema can be a sincere witness of human experience. See Fellini’s ‘autobiographical’ film, Fellini un autoritratto ritrovato, see film Fellini Narrates: A Discovered Self-Portrait, 2000.
11 In a different way, both Michel de Certeau and Michel Foucault explores moments of ‘difference’ and historicity in their writings. See Michel de Certeau (1986)Heterologies: Discourse on the Other. Translated by Brain Massumi. University of Minnesota Press. Michael Foucault (1971). The Order of Things. New York: Vintage Books.
12 Ibid p 5.
13 Orson Welles and Peter Bogdanovich (1998) This is Orson Welles, De Capo Press: New York, p 255.
15 Pier Paolo Pasolini (1976 ) ‘The Cinema of Poetry’ in Movies and Methods, Vol 1, ed. Bill Nichols, Berkeley: University of California Press, p 542-558.
16 Ibid p 6-7.
17 See Deleuze’s writings on cinema as well as his reflections on the philosopher Henri Bergson. (1986) Cinema 1: The Movement-Image, trans. Barbara Habberjam and Hugh Tomlinson Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
(1989) Cinema 2: The Time-Image, trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Robert Galeta, London: Continuum.
18 John Berger (1993), Sense of Sight London: Vintage, p. 295.
19 Emmanuel Levinas (2001) ‘Peace and Proximity’ in Levinas, Alterity and Transcendence, trans. Michael B. Smith, New York: Columbia University Press.
20 See Martin Buber (2004 ) I and Thou, trans. Ronald Smith, New York: Routledge Classics.
BERGSON Henri (1992), The Creative Mind: An Introduction to Metaphysics, trans. Mabelle L. Andison New York: Citadel Press.
BERGSON Henri (1998), Creative Evolution, trans. Arthur Mitchell, New York: Dover Publications.
BUBER Martin (2004 ), I and Thou, New York: Routledge Classics.
BUTLER Judith (2009), Frames of War, London: Verso.
DE CERTEAU Michel (1986)Heterologies: Discourse on the Other. Translated by Brain Massumi, Minnesota: University of Minnesota Press.
DELEUZE Gilles (1986), Cinema 1: The Movement-Image, trans. Barbara Habberjam and Hugh Tomlinson, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
DELEUZE Gilles (1989), Cinema 2: The Time-Image, trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Robert Galeta London: Continuum.
DELEUZE Gilles (1991), Bergsonism, trans. Hugh Tomlinson and Barbara Habberjam, New York: Zone Books.
FOUCAULT Michel (1971), The Order of Things. New York: Vintage Books.
LEVINAS Emmanuel (2001), ‘Peace and Proximity’ in Emmanuel Levinas, Alterity and Transcendence, trans. Michael B. Smith, New York: Columbia University Press.
MERLEAU-PONTY Maurice (1969), The Visible and the Invisible, trans. Alphonso Lingis, Evanston IL: Northwestern University of Press.
PASOLINI Pier Paolo (1976 ), "The Cinema of Poetry" in Movies and Methods, Vol 1, ed. Bill Nichols, Berkeley: University of California Press, pp 542-558.
PASOLINI Pier Paolo, (1980 ), "Observations on the Long Take", translated by Norman MacAfee, Craig Owens, October, Vol. 13 Summer, 1980, pp 3-6.
WELLES Orson & BOGDANOVICH Peter (1998), This is Orson Welles, De Capo Press: New York.
WENDERS Wim and ZOURNAZI Mary (2013), Inventing Peace, London: IB Tauris.
Mary Zournazi, « Approaching Reality. Some reflections on documenting social crisis », Revue française des méthodes visuelles. [En ligne], 2 | 2018, mis en ligne le 12 juillet 2018, consulté le . URL : https://rfmv.fr