Fred Worden

A young woman stands by a car while scenes from metropolitan life flash by.

I had a strong, slightly illicit, urge to commandeer the original train sequence from the 1931 film Possessed and make it move in such a way as to give the girl (Joan Crawford) what she thought she wanted: a position on the inside. To do that, I had to create my own (all encompassing) vehicle. By my count, the original sequence provides three orders of motion: the motion (and stillness) of the passengers on the train, the motion of the train itself, and finally the motion of the girl (Joan) outside of the train.

No montage, no human subjects, minimal visual content, and the artists basically pissing on the fourth wall by calling attention in every way possible to the artifice of what they’re doing. Preserved by the Academy Film Archive in 2009.

Coming in the wake of a whole movement of wild, ecstatic, psychedelic films loaded with unchecked energy and abandon, Throbs demonstrates a remarkable subtlety and restraint, as Fred explores variations in loops and cycles, weaving unlikely combinations of found and original footage to envelop us in a free associative dream world. —Mark Toscano. Preserved by the Academy Film Archive in 2008.

"Color/form, light/shadow, flatness/depth, figuration/abstraction, landscape/paint, all collaging and colliding in an exploratory, arrhythmic, kinetic dance constructed a frame at a time by Fred Worden on his optical printer. This early film now reveals itself as a revelatory early warning sign of Worden's filmmaking to come, comprising ten minutes extrapolated from only four frames of source imagery." (Mark Toscano) Preserved by the Academy Film Archive in 2009.

16mm, color, silent 24fps, 2m (1:56)

16mm, bw, sound, 11m There are two soundtrack versions of this film, referred to as the “Barbara Bode track” and the “John Fernie track”. Both versions feature a performance of the same text (written by John Fernie), by Barbara Bode or John Fernie, respectively, with windmill sounds underneath the performer. The Fernie track is the later and apparently preferred track for this film.

Trying the surrealist notion of automatism as a practice of exploring the mysterious zone where light and non-light mingle in an unstable and fertile equilibrium.

A single image in play, colliding infinitely with itself, in order to reach us beyond our defenses.

A Technicolor charge on horseback is mashed up with a series of early silent films from the Melies brothers.

When it comes to motion pictures, I’ve always been a lot more interested in the motion than the pictures. Images, in fact, have always been for me primarily a medium through which motion (or energy) can manifest. In ALL OR NOTHING abstract images are made dynamic by an infusion of energy imposed by me from outside. I’m tempted to describe this as a conversion of biological energy (mine) into cinematic energy. The individual frames collide and new things appear. It’s almost like a jerry-rigged, homemade version of the Large Hadron Collider. On the web page for the Large Hadron Collider it describes the Hadron Collider’s mission as “tunneling to the beginning of time.” A no-nonsense mission, I’d say. The mission of All or Nothing might also be described as a kind of tunneling, but for the life of me, I can’t say exactly where its tunneling to.

“Conceived as a homage and an answer to Len Lye’s hand-processed FREE RADICALS. Lye’s film consists of direct, non-photographic markings on the emulsion, accompanied by a soundtrack of African percussion (surely exotic for the time). Lye’s choice, after a long career in both commercial and experimental cinema, to turn to such bare and primitive material (“aboriginal” was his chosen term) fits with my own obsession with sticking as closely as possible to the primary elements of the film in order to invoke the underlying and real power of cinema.” —Fred Worden

“INSOMNIA is the most minimal and self-referential of Worden’s films. It consists entirely of punched holes in black leader. The fractal reference is secured spatially by using punches of two different sizes, and temporally by the distribution of the punches along the strip of leader. In some ways this is Worden’s purest pattern film. We are presented only with a pattern of black and white. There is no imagery to compete for our attention. But somehow we see the film as representational. The white struggles against the black in an attempt to pour into the foreground. It is as if the ancient cosmology were true: The stars are holes in the canopy that shrouds the earth. We yearn to leave the world of darkness and appearance for the world of reality and light on the other side.” —Dale Jamieson

I made this film in 1976 as an attempt to consider the flow of the scrolling frames in the spotlight as a field of experience of continuity, if the representation and naturalism were rejected. I have not shown this film since the early 80s. But while I finished One, I realized that some of the questions I was trying to solve at that time came from this film, and that is how I rediscovered.

A day at the beach in Malibu, at the northwestern edge of what Reyner Banham calls 'Surfurbia.'

A half-baked, but tenderized world view offered up for the new arrivals. An abstracted experimental narrative based on three images: face, figure, and crowd. A collage film of representational images of the human figure without being portraiture or performance.

A lyrical study of the World Trade Center occupying space and reflecting space.

“This little-seen abstract work of Worden’s began with short expressionistic/biomorphic color sequences he generated from scratched and abraded film strips made via a liberal application of the titular cleaning agent. These passages were then spun into an elusive, experiential coherence via Fred’s analytic and poetic optical printing, resulting in an evolving cascade of loops and rhythms.” —Mark Toscano

"An introductory sequence of flickering color frames serves as a conceptual architecture for the single-frame exploration of a multi-cornered New York intersection that follows. Urban geometries and temporalities converge and deconstruct with a rhythm of eyeblinks and double-takes." (Mark Toscano)

An accident on a frozen lake. A story told in a visual matrix paralleled by the spread of melting ice.

Two simple and progressive accumulations mingle with the confines of the Moffit Tunnel in the Rockies.

LSD is illegal. 1859 is not.

“Out on my freeway, directionality is elusive. The faces in the windows appear and then disappear, some moving out ahead, some falling behind, some moving so fast as to be beyond registering, others sliding by so languidly you’d think they want something from you. What’s irreversible is the plain fact that once they disappear from view, they’re gone forever. No amount of freeway jostling is ever likely to bring them by again. Each time I think to myself: one more person I’ll never know.” (FW)

“Where the big ones break and the undercurrents push-pull an ancient, silent tune.” (FW)

A short by Fred Worden