M.O. (1971)

The film was a long and difficult job, even dirty and melancholic, even cheerful for certain forgotten finds, like raking an undergrowth forgotten for years, where you find the dry leaves of the time, rotten mushrooms and a few flowers. We set out to collect everything, the reels of perfect copies (few), the mysterious rolls of film and the dirty clips: we had placed the slow motion video and the projector in the centre, the stuff was all around, well ordered or in heaps or scattered.