Start of a correspondence with Peter Hutton about filmmaking and the sea, prompted by his seeing Cargo at the Rotterdam Film Festival and getting in touch. A meandering conversation unfolded despite our never meeting. Among his words about his maritime travels:
“I spent a rainy November on the west coast of Ireland watching the weather and light out over the Atlantic. Ive never seen the sea look so foreboding and so beautiful. All my life Ive had dreams of falling off cliffs over the ocean..in cars, on foot …when I saw the first cliffs on the Aran Island I couldnt move I was so terrified by the drama of the sea . When I was working on ships I would always dream that the ship was sinking and Id have to swim underwater to rescue my camera and film from the drawer under my bed. Such is the life of a mariner.” (March 29, 2001)
After his death, I discovered that we happened to share a birthday, which was also the birthday of Jorge Luis Borges, whose words at the end of The Maker reminded me of the person, and the filmmaker, whom I glimpsed in Peter Hutton‘s letters and films:
“A man sets out to draw the world. As the years go by, he peoples a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, instruments, stars, horses, and individuals. A short time before he dies, he discovers that the patient labyrinth of lines traces the lineaments of his own face.”