David Nixon: Bladfold

David Nixon: Bladfold

New Media, for me at least, currently feels akin to a wave of highly concentrated, wholly mediocre ‘art’ that’s being delivered in shiny, small-batch, test-marketed packages. It’s gotten to the point where it all looks the same, and some of it even sounds the same, which all forms the perfect storm to leave me in a state of intake fatigue. And so I find myself unable to devote time and energy to even engaging with New Media of late, as much as I’d like to try. With a yearn to experience good art, and without the energy left to invest, I mean — why listen to a garbage album when you can hit shuffle on your folder of Elliott Smith records? I rest my case.

Enter Bladfold.

From the casual notice of a screening to the first moments in the flickering light of the dark theater, I was hooked. Hand-assembled and crafted with care, work like David Nixon’s Bladfold is exactly what’s missing in my world these days. Honest and expressive, it’s one of those true diamonds in the rough, but the kind that’s best left in a raw state — more accurately, the proverbial penny in the diamond mine — seemingly custom-crafted to restore my faith in all things artistic. Much like the bulk of what “Awesome” is prone to deliver, this short film is a hybrid of glorious storytelling, a brilliantly quirky score, and a vulnerability-cum-bravery that’s practically untouchable.

Bladfold hasn’t played outside of a few small screenings, one of which I had the good fortune to attend last month, but hopefully it will find it’s way out to some festivals or bigger showings later this year. In the meantime, here’s a taste:

 

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