It all began with a dream: a man selling encyclopedias. Three times, in fact, the dream occurred, always leaving me with the same questions. Who was this man? Why was he selling encyclopedias? Why did he appear desperate, yet curiously not without hope? Why? Why?
Feeling left with no alternative, as a veritable “divine madness” takes hold, I set out in pursuit of the answers to these questions, but ultimately, as I have now realized, ultimately set out in effort to discover, to delve into the fabric of an intricate human tapestry. This man selling encyclopedias, for example, I soon learned was named Finn. Finn, through means seemingly absurd, was in search of an answer to a tragedy. While searching for an answer he soon encountered various other lives, lives also in search of answers to their own tragedies of sorts. He encountered characters such as Tripp and Drifter, Dylan and Alice and Ruthie, Tucker and Daisy, his wife Deanna, and Josh, his son, a whispered voice asking him to, “Wake up. Please, wake up.” Yes, these lives, these people were most definitely, as my days post-dream made obvious, colored so much like you and me: a human tapestry. These were human beings upon the stage of life, looking for hope, looking for redemption, looking for a break, looking for life, living their lives, always trying, always searching for light. And so I knew without reservation that I must make this film, explore their story, our story, and that I, like them, must too search for light, light which is certainly responsible for The Sensation of Sight.
For me, my vision is clear, at least as clear as may be for one who but sees through a glass dimly: I exist to create cinema that provokes the audience to engage with the providential mystery of grace. I exist to create cinema that cultivates the discovery of truth. I exist to create cinema that celebrates the wonder of mystery. I exist to create cinema that dives into the mire of man surfacing with a pearl of hope.
- Aaron J. Wiederspahn