The first time I talked to Rob was at Views of the Avant Garde. I was there for the first time, excited and nervous

to show my film to a room full of heroes. I don’t remember much about the details of how we became friends but

he was easy to talk to, inviting and generous. I can imagine that most people who knew Rob would describe him

that way. He was always the first person to ask questions at a Q&A, and the first to welcome you to his table

following the screening. He came up to me after my film had shown and, although the entirety of the conversation

escapes me, I remember vividly what he said about the last shot, “that ray of light, disappearing, the way it is there

and then it’s gone. It is perfect”. With these words, he sealed his fate as my comrade; a fellow light seeker. We

shared the spirit of the searcher, the observer, someone who seeks to find and transcend beauty towards some form

of truth. Even before I was invited to write this note about his passing, his brief comment never escaped me, but

now that Rob is gone those words inevitably deepen. That disappearing ray of light. In the midst of darkness there

is light to be found. When all else is covered by a mantle of nothingness, it is those particles of sun that will

breathe life back to the soul. Rob’s films are that breath; they are gifts of light and life. His sublime images elevate

the mundane towards a higher state of being and perceiving. Through his films I am reminded that radical acts are

sprung from small gestures, and with so much urgency, these forms of encountering the world remain.

 

 

 

 

 

Alexandra Cuesta

November 30, 2018

Los Angeles, CA