![]() ![]() ![]() This passage occurs in Citizen Kane’s script written by Orson Welles. Through this and beyond we see the fairy-tale mountaintop of Xanadu, the great castle a sillhouette as its summit, the little window a distant accent in the darkness. Camera travels up what is now shown to be a gateway of gigantic proportions and holds on the top of it – a huge initial “K” showing darker and darker against the dawn sky. Now, as the camera moves slowly towards the window which is almost a postage stamp in the frame, other forms appear barbed wire, cyclone fencing, and now, looming up against an early morning sky, enormous iron grille work. Example #4Īll around this is an almost totally black screen. Eliot has successfully used this film editing technique in literary writing. The poem presents a river, fingers with a leaf in them, nymphs, the Thames, bottles and so many things in these few lines that it becomes a complete storyline when these images are assembled. These verses occur in “The Wasteland” a postmodern poem by T. The nymphs are departed, and their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song. The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leafĬlutch and sink into the wet bank. This shows that images run through her mind in a storyline. This is a process also called assemblage as she recalls and turns to canvas, sees her image, sees colors and then thinks about it. This entire passage shows as if the images have been joined together to make a picture. This passage occurs by the end of the novel where Lily Briscoe talks in the presence of Mr. Yes, she thought, laying down her brush in extreme fatigue, I have had my vision. With a sudden intensity, as if she saw it clear for a second, she drew a line there, in the centre. She looked at the steps they were empty she looked at her canvas it was blurred. But what did that matter? she asked herself, taking up her brush again. It would be hung in the attics, she thought it would be destroyed. Yes, with all its greens and blues, its lines running up and across, its attempt at something. Quickly, as if she were recalled by something over there, she turned to her canvas. From To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolfe ![]()
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