Among the Palms

Mother Hummingbird, 1929

Whenever I find a new silent film to watch, it feels like a minor miracle. I’ve written previously about what my relationship with the genre and how important it was for me to discover it at a time in my life when the twin prospects of being perceived and engaging in interpersonal communication felt impossible. They still do, if I’m honest. The relief I always feel, upon being plunged into a soundless, colorless, one-dimensional world is immense. At this point, I consider engaging with silent film to be on the level of stimming for me. Movies without sound demand so much formally that they have a way of helping me tone out life’s overwhelming stimulae. I’ve talked about it as being similar to the feeling of plunging underwater: the shock of a new atmosphere, the muting of sound the loss of weight. All of it allows for a sudden calm and clarity that sometimes isn’t possible above water.