As part of the North American premiere of Leipzig photographer Ricarda Roggan's series KINO at the Goethe Media Space Toronto, we asked two former Goethe-Institut projectionists to talk us through the images of 16mm and 35mm machines in the show from their "user" perspective. The exhibition, part of the Images Festival and the Contact Photography Festival, is on view until 19 September 2020 with a forthcoming commissioned video essay by the artist called "Ricarda Roggan: The Moviegoer". Here is TIFF technical manager Andrei Gravelle pondering a projectionist's reflexes and East German industrial design:
I was a professional film projectionist for 13 years and one of the things I miss most about that hands-on period of time were the exciting opportunities that presented themselves when working in a new cinema to try to figure out the operation of unfamiliar equipment. My relationship to the projector “Weimar 3” in Ricarda Roggan’s show “Kino” at the Goethe Media Space is virtual rather than tactile, but the challenge to understand the projector itself is such an ingrained reflex that studying it from images alone feels no different than handling it in person.
My first impression of this machine in Roggan's stark image was fueled by the matching name “Weimar”, conjuring images of classic expressionist films produced during the Weimar Republic in the 1920s: "M", "The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari", "Nosferatu" and others.
However, this 8mm projector is from another era and was designed solely for consumer use at home. Unromantically, the name of the projector most likely came from the manufacturer’s company name: Feingeräte Weimar. The first “Weimar” model was introduced in 1956, with the Weimar 3 being their third and final production model in 1958 before ceasing the production of film projectors.
The Weimar projector is a perfect example of East German industrial design. If you tasked someone with drawing a film projector from memory, the simplified image would largely consist of a rectangle representing the body of the projector and two circles representing reels of film placed either one on top and one on bottom of the rectangle, or one on each end of the projector’s body. However, the design of the Weimar 3 boldly defies convention; it is liberated from adhering to the iconic form factor of its predecessors and contemporaries in the west.
When unpacked from its case and set up for projection, there is only a single retractable reel arm to hold not only the reel of film to be viewed but also the empty take-up reel for the film to wind onto. Even with both reels mounted, the illusion exists that there is only a single reel present, which would represent an impossible operational scenario.
Additionally, this projector is unique in that it only has a single sprocket gear for driving the film --the same sprocket that pulls the film into the projector on its topside also pulls the film towards the take-up reel on its underside. These two design attributes contribute to it possibly being the most minimalist and enigmatic projector design ever.
Was this design pure innovation or was it economically inspired to reduce manufacturing cost complexity by having as few parts as possible? As flawed as it is in its product design, it is stunningly beautiful in its simplicity of form.
Andrei Gravelle is TIFF’s Senior Technical Manager. In 1999, they helped set up the Goethe-Institut Toronto’s in-house “Kinowelt Hall” cinema with its 16 and 35mm projection capabilities. Gravelle remembers screening "Berlin Alexanderplatz" (who could forget so many reels!) and the 1931 classic children's film "Emil and the Detectives" there over the years on the Goethe-Institut’s Bauer P8 Universal, which is part of the show Ricarda Roggan: KINO at the Goethe Media Space 2020.
image courtesy Ricarda Roggan
