Around the midpoint of this year, I embarked on a low-key Herzogian quest: to watch all of Werner Herzog’s films by the end of the year.

I had a dozen or so Herzog films under my belt, mostly documentaries made in the past two decades. Something snapped inside me earlier this year when I watched Nomad: In the Steps of Bruce Chatwin. Deeply enthralled and touched by several elements in the film, I searched for the soundtrack. I bought and gulped up Chatwin’s book The Songlines. I watched Nomad again. And then on another night, I watched it twice, back to back.

On Bastille Day, I was feeling wistful and romantic. July 14 happens to be my partner’s birthday, and he had just moved across the United States for an extended period. So alone and fidgeting, I came across Herdsmen of the Sun free on Tubi. In Nomad, Herzog describes bringing footage of the film to Bruce, while Bruce was on his deathbed. The broad smiles on the painted faces of the beautiful Wodaabe men, bobbing for height in a lineup on display for a potential partner, were some of the last images Bruce saw as he lay dying.

Last year, I became acquainted with the experience of a deathbed. A dearest loved one’s last words were left to me. The words were fully and confidently consciously aware and knowing, while simultaneously heartbreaking, and utterly brave. The experience was heart-wrenching, was something so final and visceral yet eternal.

It has changed me forever.

It has set me on a quest for a quest. I’m not certain if there’s something concrete I am looking to learn from Herzog here, I suppose it could be about this soul journey to a destination, about my journey, a more universal human journey. I’m determined now in a way I haven’t ever been in my life before, to perhaps be lucky enough to just brush against supporting the parabolic life force energy that I witnessed happen on the beloved’s deathbed.

I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer and slightly wandering but not wholly aimless. I am a regular person working a fairly regular job, who does quite interesting but fairly low-key art. I am not a film critic or anthropologist, and certainly not a writer. I am in a process of continuous learning for which I know there is something deep and purposeful to gather along the way. I care about the world and I respect the way Herzog captures humanity on film. I seek lessons from his art and the canon of his films that have established this elusive Herzogian hero.

At the time of starting this blog, it’s taken me a little over two months to watch 15 films, and I have 25 more to go on my list. I don’t “like” every Herzog film I’ve seen and liking or even fully grasping isn’t the point. I’m not watching methodically nor do I intend on writing this blog methodically. Maybe some posts will be like film reviews, but more so like vehicles for random research, random musings. I suppose I’m watching as much “for free” as possible but I’m also willing to eventually pay $12.99 for The Queen of the Desert on Xfinity, despite the slightly poor reviews. Today, I splurged $96 snatching up the web domain “Herzogian” when my thoughts could essentially be kept “for free” in the notebook that sits next to my TV in which I’ve been logging entries on the films I watch.

My thoughts prompted by Herzog (and Chatwin, and other illustrious people in Herzog’s orbit) are more about drive, devotion, death, and aesthetic reverence. I am here to wander online about an artist I admire and hold dear, and maybe I’ll bump into fellow travelers over these Herzogian topics along the way.

Note on possibly copyrighted images: none of the images I’ll use on this site belong to me. Even though all my pics are going to be low budget and low quality camera phone pics of other people’s images on my TV. All the photos taken are of the film discussed in each post, so either belong to Herzog or the featured filmmaker in the post. If someone stumbles across this and I’m unintentionally violating copyright, let me know and I will fix!