Dr Kelly Fleming

From time to time a writer feels tugged in an unexpected direction.

This is one of those times.

Those who have followed this blog know I often write about faith, disability, memory, justice, and the hidden textures of ordinary life. Those themes are not going anywhere.

But I want to open another room in this house.

In the months ahead, I will occasionally be writing about silent film — not as nostalgia, not as entertainment history, and certainly not as an exercise in collecting trivia, but as living art.

Some readers may be surprised.

Silent cinema may seem an unlikely companion to the subjects I usually explore.

To me, it is not.

At their heart, these films ask many of the same questions I care about elsewhere: How do we learn to perceive deeply? What can be communicated without speech? How does suffering alter character? What does gesture reveal that words conceal?

I have spent years loving these films, studying them frame by frame, often returning to a single expression, a shaft of light, or a moment of stillness with the same attention others bring to poetry.

And I have begun to realize these reflections belong here.

So I am starting something a little different.

Think of these coming posts as a kind of salon — informal but serious conversations about silent cinema, performance, visual storytelling, and the extraordinary artistry often overlooked in these early films.

Some posts may focus on a single scene.

Some may wander through an entire film.

Some may be meditations.

Some may be spirited arguments.

There will almost certainly be Garbo.

There may be Keaton.

There may be the occasional defense of neglected masterpieces

There may be provocations.

But above all, there will be invitations to look again.

If you have never watched silent films, I hope you may be tempted.

If you already love them, perhaps you will join the conversation.

Either way, welcome.

The salon doors are opening.

❤️🙏🏽🤟🏽