A Love Letter for Agnès Varda

Image: Tumblr / Edited by: Halima Jibril

Dear Agnès, 

  You are the mother of cinema. The woman who takes care of all of us, in dark times and even giving us an extra laugh in the happy times. You’ve shown me to take chances. That the daydreams and stories I have written in my head are conceivable. Your work has made me believe that not only are my creative dreams possible, but that I am possible. That who I, so desire to be, I can be. 

— Oncle Yanco (1967) from Tumblr

The first time I felt this way was when I saw your short, “Uncle Yanco”. It’s about you meeting your cousin for the first time in San Francisco. It hit home for me because I live in California. My weekends were sometimes spent running through the beaches, waves crashing onto my skin on the coast. Going up and down the hills of San Francisco, feeling scared to be in such a big city but excited that I am here. 

It then hit even harder because I was also connecting with a family member, for the first time. My grandpa. I saw a story, for the first time, that I felt was like me. Not me, as in I saw someone who looks just like me or someone in the short had my name, I saw my personality. Something that I tend to hate or love. Never both. It was the first time I felt both. 

From Cléo from 5 to 7: https://www.closeupfilmcentre.com/film_programmes/2018/agnes-varda/cleo-from-5-to-7

I felt the same feeling in your film “Cléo from 5 to 7”. A story about a well-class girl waiting for her test results, that revealed if she had cancer or not. Cléo, the main character, is described as a selfish girl, someone who cares too much about her outside appearance. When I was watching this film I saw Cléo as a girl I was always scared I'd turn into. A girl who I always thought in my head I hated. I believe I hated this girl because she was apart of me. Already swimming inside of me, starting to make waves. Cleo, the main character is selfish but I am too. Selfish and always needing other people to support me. Seeing her on the screen feeling like no one understood her, resonated with me. I feel like this most days. Cleo, made me accept that part of myself. That I was not alone in that feeling.  

Up until your passing, you were still teaching people about film and the stories, and the meaning behind your work. This inspires me to always teach people what I know. We as people can be so selfish with our creativity but not you. You and your films have always taught me to share. 

The best part of all this, to me, is that you did this all as a woman, in a career that is not very supportive of women. That is what inspires me the most. This is what makes my eyes tear up. This is what makes me proud to be a woman. You said one-time regarding documentary making that “I don’t want to be a spy with the person I film, I want to be a friend,” and this has always stuck with me.

Your final film was a love letter to life, so I only found it fitting, almost a year after you have passed, to write a love letter back. 

Thank you, Agnès. 

Yours always, 

Liyah.

By Liyah Garcia

(she/her)

Instagram: @liyahlgarcia