Esther Robinson knew little of her uncle, Danny Williams, beyond the fact that he disappeared in 1966. Seven years ago, through a series of coincidences, she learned that he'd been Andy Warhol's colleague and lover, and that he'd been an experimental filmmaker, a passion she shared.
Robinson set out on an investigation that resulted in "A Walk Into the Sea: Danny Williams and the Warhol Factory," which offers a rare cinematic pleasure -- an artful documentary that explores the nature of questioning instead of proselytizing a dogmatic truth. The film's beauty emerges from the dedication and persistence of its creative team, including Minnesota natives Robinson, editor Shannon Kennedy and composer T. Griffin.
This weekend, "A Walk Into the Sea" comes to Walker Art Center, as does a screening -- with live musical accompaniment -- of Williams' haunting, lyrical chronicles of the life at the Factory that feature Warhol, Edie Sedgwick, Billy Name, the Velvet Underground and many others. We spoke to Robinson, who will introduce her film at the Walker.
Q: What made you embark on your own film about your uncle's life and work?
A: The obvious thing is that it's a great story. Beyond that, it was a reason to interview my grandmother, to ask all those questions you're not supposed to ask. My film is about that process of recognizing the gaps in your understanding of your own family history and trying to fill in those gaps. Most traditional documentaries are about telling you facts, but family histories are about disparate information that you try to cohere and make sense of. You take all that disparate information and you create a synthesis, full of all the gaps, full of all the contradiction. I wanted to capture that mutability and unreliability of narrative -- it doesn't always jibe with the facts, but that doesn't make it any less true. Then, I saw his films; I had such an intense emotional connection to the actual films. I've spent my whole life in experimental media; I really felt like I understood something very primal about him and his films. I wanted to know him, but I also wanted to give him room. Then it became much more urgent. I was making it for Danny.
Q: The interviews in the film tell different, often contradictory, stories. Did you feel your subjects were being straightforward?
A: Well, the Warhol people are all icons. And people have a tendency to paste the past onto them. But these are people in the current sense, and they're grappling with their humanity and their mortality and legacy, and all these things are all wrapped up in how they remember. To me it was important that you had to let go of them as icons and see them as fallible people. When they were young, well ... imagine being [at the Factory]. Imagine your 20s -- you're sexy, you'll never be more beautiful, never have more sense of possibility, more focus. And imagine if every single thing you did is ascribed to Andy Warhol -- the pressures are extraordinary. So sometimes [what] they remember doesn't match the material facts. It matches how those people felt in order to survive. I wouldn't wish being a Warhol Factory person on anybody.
Q: Your filmmaking experience, it seems, has been quite different from your uncle's.
