My Universe and Unified Field Theory

No less a figure than the French film critic Serge Daney described the Soviet-Armenian filmmaker Artavazd Peleshyan as “a missing link in the true history of cinema,” a “Vertov in the era of Michael Snow, a Dovzhenko added to Godard, Wiseman or van der Keuken.”⁠1 Born in 1938 in Leninakan (present-day Gyumri), Peleshyan entered VGIK, the S. A. Gerasimov All-Russian State University of Cinematography, in 1963, where he pioneered a style of filmmaking called “distance montage.” In his “Distance Montage or the Theory of Distance” (1971), he positioned this style both with and against Eisenstein and Vertov. While the films of the two legendary Soviet directors were based on “the relationships between consecutive shots,” Peleshyan’s films were “constructed upon shots placed far apart from each other.” His editing work focused not on “splicing frames together, but in un-splicing them, not in their ‘joining,’ but in their ‘disjoining.’” This splitting of the montage bond—akin to the splitting of the atom—fundamentally overturned the “familiar notions and laws of space and time” in accordance with a quasi-Buddhistic worldview where those “who give birth know not who they are killing, and those who die know not to whom they are giving birth.”2

But what if distance montage is not just a principle for editing films, but a model for the cosmos as a whole? What if the interaction of shots at a distance reflects the interaction of planets, gravitational fields, and stellar formations? Such an idea underlies Peleshyan’s 2018 book My Universe and Unified Field Theory, excerpts from which we’ve translated into English here. In My Universe, Peleshyan offers a filmmaker’s speculations on the fundamental laws of physics. These range from the theoretical to the conspiratorial. They include the notion that the universe is characterized by “instantaneous interactions between bodies separated by great distances;” that the universe has two hemispheres, one in which time dominates space, the other in which space dominates time; that “gravity exists independent of substance and planets;” and that the process of seeing occurs faster than the speed of light. Regardless of the validity of these reflections, their significance for those working at the intersection of film and the cosmos should be clear. Like the ouroboros at the heart of Peleshyan’s theory, they bring the cosmic archaeology of cinema full circle. For just as cinema emerged from the dream of overcoming time through interstellar projection, so Peleshyan’s Unified Field Theory is born of a desire to overcome interstellar distance through the temporal principles of film.3

- Daniel Schwartz and Alexandre Zaezjev 4

***

Back in 1971, while studying at VGIK, I wrote a paper called “Distance Montage or the Theory of Distance” as part of the defense for my diploma film We. In it, I opposed the editing techniques of Eisenstein and Vertov, which consider the relationships between consecutive shots, to my own editing method, which is constructed upon shots placed far apart from one another.

At the time, I wrote: “While Vertov’s montage method, which considers the mutual interaction of neighboring elements, invites filmmakers into the ‘open field’ of spatial and temporal relativity in four dimensions (3 + time, following Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity), distance montage, rooted in the complex interplay of remote processes, pushes beyond the limits where our familiar notions and laws of space and time cease to hold—limits, beyond which, those who give birth know not who they are killing, and those who die know not to whom they are giving birth.”

To better illustrate the distinctive qualities of distance montage, I came up with the following diagram.

The relationship between montage bonds, understood in terms of Eisenstein’s “junction” or Vertov’s “interval,” may be represented as follows:

In contrast, from the perspective of distance montage, the bonds between shots (or sequences) look completely different:

The diagram greatly simplifies the actual picture insofar as distant interactions between frames and sequences happen across various ranges that involve multiple intermediary links. The pathways are so complex and indirect that it’s impossible to project the full shape of their combined movement. Yet, there’s no reason to go into that much detail here.

I’ll say the main thing: These diagrams are universal, equally relevant in the realms of cinema and science. They fully align with the principles of editing in filmmaking, as well as the interactions between elementary particles and large bodies in science.

What is more, these diagrams clearly illustrate two different views of the world.

In the first case, the world manifests itself as a single, uniform field where bodies interact. In the second case, the world manifests itself as having two opposing fields, where bodies interact across great distances.

In the first case, the world has one center of rotation. In the second, it has two centers of rotation, in which elementary particles and large bodies are simultaneously attracted and repelled.

I realize this might provoke surprise and outrage from my colleagues in film and from people of science. Why did I, a person of cinematic art, decide to discuss problems of science and cosmology? Why am I trying to speak about topics that belong strictly to the scientific domain?

To this I can answer as follows: First, both science and cinema operate with the same three fundamental concepts—SPACE, TIME, and MOVEMENT.

Second, long before nuclear physics searched for and identified elementary particles and antiparticles (electrons, positrons, protons, and neutrons), Dostoevsky had already discovered them in his literary works: “Man is the battlefield between God and the devil.” 5

Even Einstein himself said, “Dostoevsky gives me more than any thinker, more than Gauss.”

So, we cannot underestimate the role of art in unveiling the mysteries and laws of the natural world around us.

In the past, there was a column in the Literary Gazette called “Physicists Laugh,” where scientists discussed various works of art—be it theater, film, or painting.

I used to think, why not have a column called “Poets Laugh,” where artists could, in turn, talk about the problems of science?

Just as physicists once reflected on the arts, now I as an artist want to explore issues in science and physics.

***

I firmly believe that it wasn’t the stars that shaped the structure of space-time, but rather the opposite: the stars themselves were created thanks to space and time.

In my view, the behavior of celestial bodies—their form and size—was influenced not just by empty space, but more importantly, by the distances between these bodies.

My experience in the cinema and lengthy reflections on the problems of distance montage, which I applied in my films, have led me to the firm conviction that in the world around us instantaneous interactions between bodies separated by great distances are constantly at work.

As I already mentioned, the curvature of space-time leads to a fundamental transformation of the field of space and time. Once the curvature completes its cycle, time and space switch places: time moves into the “domain” of space, taking on its form, while space shifts into the “domain” of time, taking on its form.

It turns out that the structure of space-time is not a singular whole, as it may appear at first glance, but rather consists of two distinct opposing yet interconnected parts: space-time and time-space.

From this we can see that the Universe is divided into two parts, where space-time operates in one while time-space operates in the other.

The red lines depict the movement of time

while the black lines depict the movement of space.

Solid lines are dominant movements

while dotted lines are subordinate.

While its graphical representation resembles the symbol of infinity (∞, figure 1 & 2), the Universe is, in fact, finite and limited in size.

On one side it is the structure of space-time that bends; on the other, time-space.

These two distinct structures of space and time, originating from two distant points, move toward each other and ultimately converge at a single point.

It’s not the gravity of massive celestial bodies like the Sun that curve space, but rather the interaction of these two opposing structures of space and time.

This is how the entire Universe becomes curved.

The relationship between space and time isn’t founded on the seamless connection described by Einstein’s theory of relativity. Instead, it’s driven by the ongoing interplay between two opposing, diffusive processes. On one side, space operates as transformed time, while on the other, time functions as transformed space.

Where these two opposing structures of space and time intersect and collide, galaxies, stars, planets, and other celestial bodies are formed.

As soon as they come into existence, these bodies acquire gravitational properties and begin interacting across vast distances.

The remote interactions between bodies I’m describing can be based on spatial elements, temporal elements, or any combination of both space and time.

If space dominates in one body while time plays a subordinate role, then in another body at a distance, the reverse is true: time takes precedence, while space becomes secondary.

Organized in such a way, these bodies behave like living organisms with complex internal systems of links and connections.

Two supporting bodies with significant gravitational mass don’t collide or move closer together but remain at a constant distance.

These bodies only gain their full significance after a certain period, at which point a remote connection forms not only between the supporting bodies themselves but also with the surrounding elements in each instance.

The main supporting bodies and elements transmit only their most condensed essence to the distance system; yet, through their distant connections, they help drive the development and evolution of other elements and bodies, even those with which they have no direct interaction.

This sketch depicts the relationship and form

of the two-part structure of space and time.

In the first part of the diagram, space dominates while time is less prominent. In the second part, the reverse is true—time takes precedence, and space becomes secondary.

In the first part of the Universe, space expands geometrically while time progresses arithmetically. In the second part, however, the roles reverse: time develops geometrically, and space follows an arithmetic progression.

This difference in the structure of space and time shapes both the physical and chemical composition of material bodies, as well as their size and form.

It’s as if on one side we are moving up a descending escalator, while on the other we are going down an ascending escalator.

A key aspect of distance-relationships is that they establish connections not only between individual bodies and elements (point to point) but, more importantly, between entire groups of elements and bodies (point to group, group to group). In this case, an interaction occurs between one process and its opposite.

I call this interaction the “block principle of action at a distance.”

Not every individual point or element can engage in such a relationship on its own.

The key is that the second element at a distance must perform the opposite function of the first.

For example, if a mountain rises in the first, it must descend in the second.

In one case—up, in the other—down.
In one—left, in the other—right.
In one—black, in the other—white, and so on.

Thus, a single event unfolds simultaneously at different points in the universe, regardless of the distance between them.

One form of remote interaction of bodies at a distance

(point with point, point with group, group with group, and so on).

***

In a distance-relationship, the interaction between elements occurs so rapidly—almost instantaneously—that the speed remains unaffected by the space separating them.

Furthermore, the speed of interaction between the elements is so great that it instantly covers the distance twice over.

I’ve come to believe that there are forces in nature that travel faster than the speed of light in a vacuum.

Vision and reflection, in my view, are among these forces, as they occur instantaneously, regardless of distance.

We understand the nature of light.

Science has shown that light behaves as both particles and waves, and that its speed—300,000 kilometers per second—remains constant, regardless of the movement of its source.

I want to understand what truly constitutes vision or the act of seeing.

I’m not referring to the property, structure or function of the human eye or brain that enable us to see objects.

Nor am I referring to reflection, which reproduces other objects within itself and only occurs through the interaction of objects.

What I mean is the very concept of vision or seeing in its purest form.

The same goes for the concept of reflection considered on its own, independent of its source.

Is it like light—particles or waves? Or is it something else? Is it material or not?

I couldn’t find answers to these questions in any scientific literature, Dal’s Explanatory Dictionary, or even on the Internet.

It seems the discussion of what vision truly is has been consistently overlooked, as if it has entirely slipped out of the attention of experts in the field.

I am not sure how to define these concepts. Maybe they’re electrical or neural impulses that exist between the eye and objects.

Personally, I prefer to call them bio-impulses.

I understand that vision is one manner of perceiving the outside world—that is, the reception of information about the world by means of light either reflected or emitted by objects and captured by the organs of sight.

The visual system consists of the peripheral part within the eye (the retina, which contains photoreceptors and nerve cells) and the central parts connected to it, including regions of the midbrain, diencephalon, and the visual areas of the cerebral cortex.

Vision enables us to analyze our surroundings and adapt our behavior accordingly. It allows the body to detect the direction and intensity of individual light beams, among other details. Photoreceptors in the eye absorb light, with pigments that convert the energy of light particles into nerve signals. The range of light we perceive is determined by the absorption spectrum of these pigments.

Let us consider a person standing in front of a mirror placed at a great distance.

What connects this person to their reflection in the mirror, and what lies in between?

We know that light is reflected in a mirror, and we’re well aware of the speed of light.

But light doesn’t just reflect off the mirror—it also illuminates everything, making all objects and physical bodies that are reflected in the mirror visible. This means our vision is not dependent on the speed of light.

We see the reflection of objects in a mirror instantly, regardless of the distance or the time it takes light to travel.

Reflections occur even in darkness, meaning light isn’t the cause of reflection.

Reflection happens with or without light—light merely makes the object visible.

It’s said that the light of the sun takes 8 minutes to reach us, meaning we’re seeing the Sun as it was 8 minutes ago.

I don’t think this is true.

I see the solar disk instantly, not just the light that takes eight minutes to reach us.

My ability to see the solar disk does not depend on the speed of light. The speed of light doesn’t matter here. It’s not just the light that allows us to see the solar disk; it’s the solar disk itself that allows us to perceive its light.

The solar disk and the light it emits are two separate things. The speed at which I perceive the Sun is instantaneous.

In fact, my vision is so immediate that it crosses the distance between me and the Sun twice—once as a biosignal that travels from me to the Sun and again (and this is important) as a signal or impulse that the Sun sends to me.

Even during a solar eclipse, when sunlight is temporarily blocked, we can still see the Sun. The eclipse shows that we’re seeing the Sun in real time, instantly, without relying on light that took eight minutes to reach us from the past.

At night, when we gaze up at the celestial dome of the sky, we see countless distant, twinkling stars, their light having traveled millions of light-years to reach us.

If we accept the idea that we see the Sun as it was eight minutes ago due to the speed of light, then by the same logic, those distant stars we see now are not being perceived as they are in the present, but as they were millions of years ago.

Interestingly, when we look up at the night sky, we’re not only seeing the light from distant stars, but also the darkness that fills the space between them.

This shows that reflection isn’t just a quality of light—it is a quality of darkness too.

After all, some animals hunt at night and can see perfectly well in the dark.

Since objects at night aren’t emitting light, the speed of light isn’t really a factor here.

Let’s say there was a civilization on a distant planet, millions of light-years away, that vanished long ago.

What we’re seeing today isn’t just the planet’s past but the remnants of that civilization and its people, who no longer exist.

Essentially, I’m seeing something that no longer exists.

Absurd.

***

The universe behaves like a living organism, instantly “seeing” everything that happens within it.

Likewise, Zenith and Nadir see each other immediately, as if enormous mirrors were placed between them.

The distance separating them is likely billions upon billions of light years.

Now, let’s say Zenith sends an important signal to Nadir. Does that mean, due to the speed of light, Zenith would have to wait billions of years for the signal to finally reach Nadir?

The signal from Zenith to Nadir is instant, no matter the vast distance between them.

In fact, its speed is not just billions of times faster than light—it actually covers the distance between them twice in the blink of an eye.

That is the astonishing speed of this vision.

I’m not sure if terms like “vision,” “impulse,” or “reflection” really apply to the Universe, or if there is some other unknown means of remote communication at work in it.

But the fact remains: the Universe is full of long-range distance-relationships between bodies, where the speed of these interactions covers the distance twice in an instant.