Elia Suleiman:[T]here's one women who inspired me alot, a very good friend, Vietnamese, a writer [and filmmaker], Trinh T. Minh-ha. I learned a lot about something like a martial art exercise - how to deviate from confrontations and how to maneuver. I still remember many things she said to me of how to unpreach the world.
Q:What does "unpreach" mean?
Suleiman:Instead of tell. It's exactly what I'm doing in my films. It's the space where a form of decenteredness can reign. Where is this kind of space? Where the potentiality of filling in the blanks can exist. It's a very meditative exercise.
Q:Which books of hers do you especially remember?
Suleiman:Woman, Native, Other. She's a great poet. She introduced me to [John] Cage and quite a few writers. This reminds me of 'pastiche.' I don't like that word; pastiche seems like sketching. There's so much pigmenting that my tableaus carry, so much precision, so much preparation. I work so hard on them until they flow in a natural way, until the image looks like it hasn't been worked on. To arrive at this level, on the other side, until you make the image see-through, there's so much layering to be done. I think that this is a misreading, your word 'pastiche.' The spectator can go from one tableau to another. Because every time you finish a scene in my film, you don't really know what the scene after is going to say. In my chaotic order, there's surprises and pleasure because every time you have a new revelation of the situation. As opposed to linear film-making. There we already know, have a deja vu of what's to be seen.