Centuries of June (w/Stan Brakhage, 16mm, 10 minutes)

Stan Brakhage’s note about this film, from the Filmmakers’ Cooperative catalog:
This film comes to exist because Joseph Cornell wished, one fine summer day, to show me the old homes of his beloved Flushing. One of them had been torn down and another beside it was scheduled for demolition. In torment (similar to that which had prompted him to ask me to photograph the Third Ave. Elevated before it was destroyed) he suggested we spend the afternoon preserving "the world of this house," its environs. It would be too strong a word to say he "directed" my photography; and yet his presence and constant suggestions (often simply by a lift of the hand, or lifted eyebrows even) made this film entirely his. He then spent years editing it, incorporating "re-takes" into the film's natural progress, savoring and lovingly using almost every bit of the footage. And then he gave it to me, "in memory of that afternoon."
Centuries of June, perhaps more than any Cornell film, is a naked attempt to capture the soul of a place and the mood of a disappearing moment. Partly this feeling is due to the circumstance of the impending destruction of the house which dominates the first part of the film, and partly it’s due to Brakhage’s agile, kinetic camera work. Approaching the house with palpable trepidation, and straining to capture a butterfly’s movement, his camera charges the film with an energy quite different from that of Burckhardt’s.
By the last third of the film, the camera has moved away from the house – already relegated to the past – to focus on a group of children playing nearby. Though the house is no longer on camera, it provides the environment for the children’s play, and its presence is still very much felt, like a ghost. The film ends lyrically, with the children walking away from both camera and house.