🎶 Selected by Rod Morris to accompany the series 🎶
Elliott Gallery is excited to present the work of the Third-Prize Winner of our Open Call for Exhibition Proposals and his fabulous work:
Film Stills by Rod Morris
An exploration of the intersection between Photography and Film
All photos are available to purchase directly or from Artsy. Contact us for available sizes and prices.
The Still Films series delves into the delicate interplay between Cinema and Photography, where still images evoke a sense of narrative that transcends the frame. Drawing on the Artist’s background in both photojournalism and filmmaking, the works create a unique visual dialogue. Each photograph carries the weight of a story—some told through the presence of a protagonist, others through their conspicuous absence.
Through the use of light, sound, and stillness, the Artist invites viewers to engage with the 'pensive moment,' a pause in time that resonates with anticipation. These cinematic stills challenge our perception of linearity, hinting at alternate realities and countless possible outcomes. The series is not just a collection of images, but an ongoing exploration of memory, time, and the subtle yet powerful relationship between the two media.
Stepping further into the world of these still films and the quiet stories they carry, we realise that behind each of Rod Morris’s photographs lies a story as vivid as the image itself, a story that unfolds in layers. Moments shaped by memory, chance encounters, and the delicate interplay of light and shadow.
“I was visiting the house of a musician in Ciudad Bolivar, he was German, and I asked him how he came to be living in this small town on the other side of the world to his homeland. He showed me around the house and told me the story of him meeting a Venezuelan girl who was travelling around Europe.
They fell in love, she got pregnant and returned to Venezuela. Despite them not really knowing each other, and him having a growing career as a jazz musician in Germany, he decided to follow her. He tracked her down and they all lived together for a few wonderful years, but she became ill and passed away quite suddenly. He said that he had thought of going home with his daughter, but that he still felt the presence of his wife in the house, so he could never leave.
As he spoke, we entered the front room, the light suddenly poured in from the window and lit up his daughter as she sat in the hammock, the arms of the hammock looked like the wings of an angel. At that moment, I too felt her presence, but it was only fleeting. As the sun went behind the clouds her spirit seemed to leave the room; we stood silently for a while.”
“The sound of this boy is with me still. He taught me a clapping game that I still play with my daughters. We were together on a boat for a long time, travelling up the Perfume River, and it really helped to pass the time learning this game. I never thought it would stay so long in my memory, or that it might continue after I am gone, through the hands of my girls.”
“Our boat sank. The warm waters of the Orinoco felt like a muddy bath as they silently poured over the shallow sides of the boat. We hurriedly grabbed our possessions before they floated out of the dugout and down the river on the strong currents.
Cameron, our guide, remained surprisingly calm, steering for shore, everyone bailing out, using anything that could hold water. We got close to the river bank just in time, wading out of the submerged vessel as it slipped beneath the brown waters.”
“I was really tired waiting on the side of the road for this bus. I had to get back to Cairo quickly, and had gotten up in total darkness to wait for a bus that I wasn't sure would come. It was the start of Ramadan, and lots of restaurants and shops were closed. Eventually, after a long wait the bus appeared out of the gloom, I got on and was falling asleep, when the bus pulled up to let on more passengers. At that moment, the first rays of the days sun entered the open bus doors, as the driver turned to greet the waiting passengers.”
“At first, I didn’t see her. It was cold, but then I think it always is at that altitude.
La Paz was still waking up as I strolled around the market. I don’t know how long she had been there, nestled among the blankets, but I did not disturb her. I was looking for cocoa leaves. I had been advised that this was the best cure for the stinking headache and sickness that had engulfed me as our train rose up from the desert plains of the Atacama to the Altiplano. Eventually I found someone selling the cocoa and lay down on the side of the road, my face adorned with the wet leaves, my stomach digesting the hot tea, made from the same leaves. I fell asleep thinking how comfortable she’d looked, and whether someone might buy her by mistake, rolled up in a blanket.”
All photographs are available to purchase. Please, contact us at info@elliott.gallery for available sizes and prices or browse Rod Morris’ work on Artsy.