A Brush Of Violence: A Detailed Analysis Of An Artist’s Search For The Truth

What sets artists apart from the rest? What is the essence of art? When does the fine line between art and reality merge into an indefinable conundrum? Writer-director Daniel Lawrence Wilson’s A Brush Of Violence attempts to answer that and more. It raises poignant questions leaving the audience brooding over matters that are often overlooked in the hustle of life. 

Akila (Mia Krystyna) has the offer of her lifetime. A recluse artist has commissioned her services as a photojournalist to reveal his identity. Although hesitant, curiosity soon takes over and she laps up the opportunity. It’s interesting to note here, that Krystyna beautifully blends the artist’s hunger with the trepidation of a professional into the minuscule timeframe offered before the final meeting. Wilson ensures that the pace and the colour palette (colourist, Lutz Forster, requires a special mention for the brilliant execution of the film’s colour palette) draws in the audience to have a tactile experience. The remarkable languid pacing almost pauses the cacophony around. We hear the cicadas, the screeching of the tyres across the gravel even before the said mansion housing the subject manifests. This is particularly noteworthy because in a film of about 40-odd-minute-long narrative, one could have easily gotten carried away into overdoing its technicality, but Wilson manages to keep a measured hold over his craft. 

The film carries with it an even tempo, almost rhythmic. The music (Snakes Of Russia), additionally, helps in achieving this, as is befitting its genre. It’s engaging, thrilling, almost warning its faint-hearted audience, if any. By the time Vio (Yavor Vesselinov) makes his appearance, we become absorbed in Wilson’s vision. The near monochromatic setting, the generous use of greys and blacks; the imagery is not lost on anyone. It leaves no room for doubt. This is intellectualism, at its best. The conversation between the two protagonists soon veers to unchartered territory and as Darren Streibig’s lensing smartly, effectively spans across the rooms, we see the frugality of the abundance. The vast expanses of the mansion seem stiflingly, befittingly small, as Vio begins his mental descent of the world around him. In that moment, Wilson compels his audience to become the artist themself, peeling the veneer off their muse, layer by layer.

A Brush Of Violence is a masterstroke; it carries with it the philosophy of filmmaking, the brutality of art and the grey area enmeshed within its subtext. An ode to life and the creative genius of species called “artists”, the short is impactful. In the end, A Brush Of Violence, leaves one wondering, asking questions not only about Vio and the wellbeing of Akila, but the future of humankind who have grown used to shrinking their lives to their screens. How different are we from Vio in our isolation, after all? How tethered we are in our own voyeuristic search for the truth like Akila? We are artists and muses ourselves, it’s just that the art of understanding life has been lost to us. Much like the protagonists in the film who turn seekers themselves, we too, are compelled to make similar choices.

Vesselinov makes Vio a brooding, haunting spectacle of anguish and at last, liberation. Through the characters as much as the photographs used in itself, the film comes to life only to extinguish the perpetual gloom of ignorance we have all grown so happily accustomed to accepting.

This is Wilson at his best.

Watch A Brush of Violence Short Film Trailer