The film critic falls asleep as the credits roll; the identities and images just concluded are now processed into dream configurations; the components arrange themselves in newly fractured and sinister fashion. Such a vignette could describe the lucent and aggressively beautiful project Letitia Trent has undertaken with the cinematic ekphrasis of Splice, in which the poet takes films varying in genre from American classics to European arthouse to J-horror, disassembles their narratives, and uses their iconic cells and essential tones to create rippled, frightening montage borne of Trent's cinephiliac passion and curiosity. They serve as evocative counterpoints to their sources—the mark of any successful ekphrasis.
The film critic falls asleep as the credits roll; the identities and images just concluded are now processed into dream configurations; the components arrange themselves in newly fractured and sinister fashion. Such a vignette could describe the lucent and aggressively beautiful project Letitia Trent has undertaken with the cinematic ekphrasis of Splice, in which the poet takes films varying in genre from American classics to European arthouse to J-horror, disassembles their narratives, and uses their iconic cells and essential tones to create rippled, frightening montage borne of Trent's cinephiliac passion and curiosity. They serve as evocative counterpoints to their sources—the mark of any successful ekphrasis.