San Francisco International Film Festival

By Sara Schieron

“Scott Arford’s the one in the vintage tie.”

I respond, “Arford, the video artist?” Aaron, our trusty videographer, concurs. I thought I was the social butterfly but here comes Aaron out of the left gate, Stella (Artois, Fest sponsor) in hand. “Just introduced myself,” he asides. Aaron’s so nonchalant.

I get a glass of wine and meander - with some determination - over to Arford’s circle of cohorts. I’m thinking that tonight is technically the night we need to cover the Golden Gate Awards but how can we miss out on the last San Francisco Artist event in the fest? I grab Arford’s elbow, he turns, agrees to speak and humorously says nothing about Static. It’s his signature! He may as well be called “The Static Guy.” His experimental videos revolve around the mixing of perceptions that happen when images degrade or repair themselves, when pixels overcome clarity and blobs merge into each other. For a guy into the devolution of form, he’s surprisingly tidy.

Following Mr. Static Arford, we made a mad dash to the Golden Gate Awards. Executive Director Graham Leggat made his ever dashing presentations and but another member of the board addressed the crowd to thank Graham for his competence. The way these directors speak of him you’d think he resurrected Lazarus - oh no, I forgot, he resurrected SF International. Many of us had little clue the fest was dead but Graham’s appearance on scene did constitute an infusion of sex into our city. Perhaps that’s the resurrection - I’m going to stop myself right there.

The party was at the Culinary Academy; a stately building clearly erected before the advent of the sound-absorbing panel. The filmmakers minced, the band played pomo jazz versions of Nirvana (I’m not joking) and we were all forced to yell at each other over the reverb and echo. I stayed out until the crowd thinned and it looked dark enough on Polk Street to make the long stroll home a little dangerous.