Epiphany (IV) (2025)
Epiphany (II) (2024)
Francisco Rojas:
– As somebody who has worked primarily on digital, do you feel any need to work on celluloid? Many experimental filmmaking scenes seem to ignore work when it is made on digital, specially the one that exists as distillation of formal techniques.
Forrest Sprague:
– When I made my first several films, I considered them merely tests before I moved onto celluloid. I did not even consider them real films due to the stigma that still exists against digital. I think seeing your films, Rushnan's (Jaleel), and Antoni's (Orlof) gave me the confidence I needed to consider the legitimacy of modern digital films made by young filmmakers. I think the most important realization I had was realizing Epiphany could not exist on 16mm. It lives in the widescreen, and the improvisatory and durational aspect of the films could only exist in the digital format. That was when I realized I was truly content in making digital films for the time being. I'd never rule out celluloid, but I am in no rush right now.
Francisco Rojas:
– Your work has been shown a few times in the US, what is your experience of seeing your work with an audience and what should new viewers expect from your work?
Forrest Sprague:
– I immensely enjoy seeing the film on a big screen, and I see something new in it every time. The first time I saw it in a theater I sat in the back row, and I noticed eyes darting all over the screen trying to take in all the different variables. That was when I first realized the benefit of seeing it in a theater with an audience. Everyone was watching a different film. There is also quite of a bit of levity in Epiphany, and many people were laughing at one particular moment that I have always found hilarious at a screening in my home city of Portland, Maine. At another screening there was an impromptu Q&A, and I was surprised and flattered by the questions and observations posed by the audience. Despite it being the longest film in the program by far, I was so honored at how attentive and insightful the audience was. I think the most important thing is to simply observe, and let your eyes guide you wherever they want.
Epiphany (I) (2023)
Forrest Sprague:
– I had several major life events happen to me within a week back in late 2022, including quitting my job and moving into a new apartment. Strangely enough, a church across from the apartment that existed for almost 100 years was torn down the same week I moved in, and I saw myself looking down at a tabula rasa of brick. That was the Church of the Epiphany, and it was demolished that week to build dorm housing for medical students. When I started seeing the emergence of machinery, and man, I began shooting immediately, not necessarily to make a film, but to capture something simply pleasing to my eye.
Francisco Rojas:
– You have a very important artistic relationship with Larry Gottheim, could you elaborate how that came about?
Forrest Sprague:
– After I completed what would be the first Epiphany, I had several friends give very reaffirming feedback on it, and having been penpals with Larry during the pandemic, I decided to send him the film. He was the first person I felt really saw the film as I did, and he invited me up to his house within that month to start talking about films, both his, and my own. He would subsequently see every cut of the subsequent Epiphanies before I released them. More often than not he would illuminate elements of the films I would not be entirely confident in. Every one of his suggestions became something that helped guide me through the rest of the series. He was wonderful at letting me trust my own judgement, while also honing in on aspects that I was not pleased with at the time.
It was originally supposed to just be the first part. I had kept shooting even after I completed the first film, simply because I was still pleased by the movement and contour I witnessed out my window everyday. I had a cut of the second film ready, but unsure if I wanted to continue making them out of fear of redundancy. When I first met Larry, I showed him the second part, and he gave his input that I must continue to show the evolution. So one part became three parts, and then three parts became five parts. The film began dictating to me exactly what it wanted to be as soon as I kept filming after completing the first film. It became apparent that the film organically wanted to show the progression from the rubble of the church to the roof of the new building. I would be up until the early hours of the morning letting it guide me through the editing. I have never had such a fluid process making a film before or since. It was never supposed to be a series, but I am very glad it is now. The temporal aspect of it still intrigues me, with months between each part, I fill in the gaps of the construction's progress. Almost like films between films.
Nor/East/River (2020)
Francisco Rojas:
– Before you discovered experimental cinema, which films were the most important for you? Which film was the one that made you think about doing narrative cinema? Are those ideas still around, can you still relate to what you loved about those films then and what you love about film now?
– It's very serendipitous that you ask that. I recently ran into an old college professor of mine, Joe McElhaney from Hunter College, at a screening in the city and I went up to him to tell him what an impact him showing Jarmusch's Stranger Than Paradise had on me. That same year I saw Jeanne Dielman in a class taught by Ivone Margulies. I think those two were the first times I really internalized the power of the master shot, and the durational aspects contained within them. Each film has an action that takes place in a single shot, and ends when that action is finished. Whether that is the mundanity of John Lurie's routinely existence, or Jeanne Dielman's endless domestic tasks. Both those films remain incredibly influential to me. If I ever made a film in the narrative vein, perhaps it could look something like that.
– Before you discovered experimental cinema, which films were the most important for you? Which film was the one that made you think about doing narrative cinema? Are those ideas still around, can you still relate to what you loved about those films then and what you love about film now?
Forrest Sprague:
– It's very serendipitous that you ask that. I recently ran into an old college professor of mine, Joe McElhaney from Hunter College, at a screening in the city and I went up to him to tell him what an impact him showing Jarmusch's Stranger Than Paradise had on me. That same year I saw Jeanne Dielman in a class taught by Ivone Margulies. I think those two were the first times I really internalized the power of the master shot, and the durational aspects contained within them. Each film has an action that takes place in a single shot, and ends when that action is finished. Whether that is the mundanity of John Lurie's routinely existence, or Jeanne Dielman's endless domestic tasks. Both those films remain incredibly influential to me. If I ever made a film in the narrative vein, perhaps it could look something like that.
Francisco Rojas:
– How did the series come about? Was it always a plan to make a series of films?
Francisco Rojas:
– You could certainly argue that you haven't lost a sense for the durational and processes that get "resolved" within a single shot, watching your Epiphany series.
Forrest Sprague:
– Absolutely. I did not realize it then, but the duration of an action within a shot would come to define an unconscious side of my later filmmaking, the Epiphany series specifically. I find there is a tension that is built in every shot that I want to reach its completion before the film takes you to the next action to resolve.
Forrest Sprague:
– Oh yes, certainly after studying narrative cinema for years in college, and even considering making narrative films, after I was exposed to experimental film (Wavelength and Serene Velocity immediately come to mind), I had this eureka moment where I went "I have a camera, I can do that!" It felt incredibly freeing to realize that I could make exploratory films within my community that I knew would be building blocks for my future making films.
Cherokee (2020)
Francisco Rojas:
– I’m asking because I remember during COVID seeing so many narrative filmmakers complain about the situation, when there's a tradition like experimental cinema that has existed for decades making films within homes, around the neighborhood of the artists, etc. It showed how many of the so-called “artists of cinema” can't think of a way to be creative without an entire production mechanism behind them. When money isn't involved, they don't seem to have such big ideas.
– I’m asking because I remember during COVID seeing so many narrative filmmakers complain about the situation, when there's a tradition like experimental cinema that has existed for decades making films within homes, around the neighborhood of the artists, etc. It showed how many of the so-called “artists of cinema” can't think of a way to be creative without an entire production mechanism behind them. When money isn't involved, they don't seem to have such big ideas.
Francisco Rojas:
– Was COVID an obstacle for your creativity? How different was it then compared to now?
– Quite the opposite in fact. The film I consider my first, Cherokee (2020), was made entirely within the confines of the apartment complex I was living in at the time. I shot in the courtyard, on the stairs, in my apartment, in common areas, even below the building in the maintenance area. I had lot of freedom to examine areas of my community that I had never thought to explore previously. My second film, Nor/East/River (2020) is shot entirely outside the apartment complex, on the East River Greenway during a Nor'easter. Having the limitations of the pandemic allowed me to start exploring my vision, but constricted by elements outside of my control. As the pandemic started to wind down, I began making films around different boroughs of New York City, but I wouldn't say my process is entirely different now. Perhaps COVID's limitations helped create my philosophy of filmmaking.
– Was COVID an obstacle for your creativity? How different was it then compared to now?
Forrest Sprague:
– Quite the opposite in fact. The film I consider my first, Cherokee (2020), was made entirely within the confines of the apartment complex I was living in at the time. I shot in the courtyard, on the stairs, in my apartment, in common areas, even below the building in the maintenance area. I had lot of freedom to examine areas of my community that I had never thought to explore previously. My second film, Nor/East/River (2020) is shot entirely outside the apartment complex, on the East River Greenway during a Nor'easter. Having the limitations of the pandemic allowed me to start exploring my vision, but constricted by elements outside of my control. As the pandemic started to wind down, I began making films around different boroughs of New York City, but I wouldn't say my process is entirely different now. Perhaps COVID's limitations helped create my philosophy of filmmaking.
Francisco Rojas:
– You've been making films since 2020, but I wanted to ask when was the first time filmmaking became something really important in your life.
– It was definitely during COVID, when I first really delved into the experimental films that were available online. I was interested in Deren and Brakhage for several years, and studied them in college, but it was only during the pandemic that I started to find films that exhibited a way of seeing that I felt was akin to my own. I still remember the first time watching Landscape Suicide by (James) Benning, Horizons by Larry (Gottheim), Three Landscapes by (Peter) Hutton, and Provincetown Pieces by Joe Bernard. I felt a kinship with this art form that I hadn't had before. These films inspired me to pick up my camera for the first time in years and begin developing my own way of seeing.
– You've been making films since 2020, but I wanted to ask when was the first time filmmaking became something really important in your life.
Forrest Sprague:
– It was definitely during COVID, when I first really delved into the experimental films that were available online. I was interested in Deren and Brakhage for several years, and studied them in college, but it was only during the pandemic that I started to find films that exhibited a way of seeing that I felt was akin to my own. I still remember the first time watching Landscape Suicide by (James) Benning, Horizons by Larry (Gottheim), Three Landscapes by (Peter) Hutton, and Provincetown Pieces by Joe Bernard. I felt a kinship with this art form that I hadn't had before. These films inspired me to pick up my camera for the first time in years and begin developing my own way of seeing.
Interview and edit by Francisco Rojas
31/05/2026
Interview with FORREST SPRAGUE
Throughout the last two decades, a very noticeable shift has taken place in the world of “experimental” cinema, where most of the films, or at least, the films that get programmed in the big festivals, are crafted like documentaries, with a clear subject, even a narrative, mostly with the use of voice over, but with an “unconventional” (in the most generous sense of the world) visual language, so it feels too arty and different for a traditional documentary circuit. But at the same time, these films sometimes feel too commodified to be paired with actual experimental/avant-garde cinema, films that defy a notion of general, immediate understanding, and not necessarily because of an impenetrable articulation of form. There’s an entire tradition that is rooted in simplicity, at least in the sense of allowing form to present itself without fear that an audience might feel attacked by a work that refuses to give an easy answer, a film that trust in the ability of every viewer to find a visual, geometrical, and chromatic coherence to what is being projected on the screen.
Forrest Sprague’s works, especially his Epiphany series are part of that immortal tradition. Like the films of Peter Hutton, Sprague’s camera observes its surroundings and subjects yet at times it seems to disregard action and instead focuses on shapes and colors, and even visual games of perspective without changing focus or zooming in or back, it’s just the purity of duration and the world unfolding in front of the lens. A quiet (despite the images of construction workers, the films are always silent) visual meditation that are as much about cinema as about the world itself, the eternal enthusiasm that lies in the things sometimes we take for granted.
Forrest Sprague’s works, especially his Epiphany series are part of that immortal tradition. Like the films of Peter Hutton, Sprague’s camera observes its surroundings and subjects yet at times it seems to disregard action and instead focuses on shapes and colors, and even visual games of perspective without changing focus or zooming in or back, it’s just the purity of duration and the world unfolding in front of the lens. A quiet (despite the images of construction workers, the films are always silent) visual meditation that are as much about cinema as about the world itself, the eternal enthusiasm that lies in the things sometimes we take for granted.
