Before we discuss cinema, we must set aside our preconceptions of cinema. One should recognize the traces of cinema's influence within their experiences, finding images that have arisen not only from watching films but also from interpreting them. Forgetting cinema is essential to genuinely appreciate and be surprised by this phenomenon. In essence, we must relive the fact that cinema is a miracle. Additionally, forgetting cinema helps reveal certain subjective boundaries of cinema. This delineation of boundaries is necessary to comprehend what cinema is or, more precisely, what it means to us. It can also be said that forgetting cinema enables us to encounter it authentically, considering that we are largely within or surrounded by cinema now. We find ourselves, one day, amidst the world of cinema. It's akin to discovering ourselves within the world, already present within it. The world, for us, always precedes the experience of self-understanding and self-awareness. The same holds true for cinema. This perspective holds significance, especially for two generations born during the period when cinema moved from dedicated spaces like cinemas to homes, becoming the focal point of many households. Cinema became intertwined with the concept of home. For a significant number of people today, a home without cinema is inconceivable. In any case, for those of us born into the cinematic world, the question of what cinema is, and consequently the boundaries of cinema, intersects with our understanding of the world in general. I'll elaborate on this point further.

I'd also like to address various facets of cinema. My interest extends beyond pondering what constitutes an image and how time operates within cinema. I'm equally drawn to the technical aspects of cinema, such as the construction of film cameras, visual effects, sets, shooting locations, screens, etc. It's also intriguing to explore the economics of cinema, the film market, and the so-called film industry. Furthermore, delving into the history, sociology, and aesthetics of cinema adds depth to our understanding. Cinema is a multifaceted world; it involves pure creativity in directing, editing, scripting, music, acting, cinematography, and more. Yet, it also encompasses production elements like the technical and financial aspects (the film factory). Thus, we can say that production and creativity are intertwined in the process of filmmaking.

Now, let's discuss the nature of an image, as it is crucial for our exploration. Progressing further necessitates addressing this concept. Without delving into the essence of an image, our understanding of cinema remains incomplete. The question, "What is an image?" is inherently philosophical, concerning the essence or nature of an image. (If my line of thought holds, we'll realize how little we truly know about cinema. Our knowledge about the image and even less about the film-image is meager. Paradoxically, film critics possess even less understanding of cinema, as they are deprived (due to professional tendencies) of the unadulterated immediacy of film perception. They can no longer truly enjoy watching films, and their reflections on cinema are often shallow and primitive. They resemble scavengers feeding on the deceased and decaying). However, let's not be sidetracked by this minor issue and return to the essential question: What is an image?

Initially, we must acknowledge that an image can be presented to us in various ways. We can first encounter an image immanently, closing our eyes and simply visualizing it. Alternatively, we can imagine an image or conceive it through description, gestures, or drawings. In either case, a fundamental distinction exists between the immanent and the represented image. This distinction arises not only from our inability to replicate precisely what we imagine but also from the distinct nature of the immanent and depicted images. The immanent image stems from our capacity to imagine, with time serving as the source of imagination. Imagination draws upon the past (memory), the present (perception), and the future (fantasy). These temporal modifications are not rigidly ordered; they frequently transgress their boundaries. Fantasies infiltrate memories, altering the past, or vice versa, transforming memories into expectations of the future. Similarly, images arising from memory might no longer depict "past" experiences but instead depict what is "anticipated" in the future. It's also been mentioned that the present can be a source of images, but this requires clarification. The present, characterized by lived perception, does not exist within time; it is not temporal. The present or "now" itself signifies perception or the withdrawal of consciousness from temporality. In true perception, the imaginary is deactivated, momentarily neutralizing the duration within which consciousness operates. In this state, the essence of consciousness – temporality – is temporarily suppressed. When we genuinely perceive the world, we can experience how the world itself envisions itself. However, let's not lose focus. We have established that while perception negates time, imagination thrives within it. An image, therefore, constitutes a temporal realm or a world within time, possessing its own ontological dimension. Consequently, the image fundamentally opposes the concept of an object. The image represents a lasting world, while an object is manifest through abrupt rupture or an abyss. (This notion can also be considered from another angle. Our modern world has relinquished eternity, defining itself as (temporary) history – an ongoing negation. In this modern context, the image and the imaginary, in general, serve as generative principles. The modern world, entwined with time, demands that its past await its future, reminiscing its future).

To summarize, images are temporal ontological entities, and our consciousness, intrinsically woven with time, exists temporally. Creating and producing images, in a sense, constructs and establishes the world. Since the time when primitive humans glimpsed their own reflection in a puddle, depicted animals within caves, or when artists like Raphael depicted the Madonna, up until the advent of the first photograph, during this entire span, depicted and represented images remained connected to the present, as slices of reality. While they weren't actual things, they were closer to things. Earlier, we discussed the difference between immanent and depicted images, noting that among other distinctions, they diverge in their nature. Now, let's examine this in more depth. The depicted image is conveyed through perception, while the immanent image is revealed through contemplation. When we contemplate immanent images, meditating within ourselves, we notice that the contemplated image appears eager to transcend itself. The contours of the contemplated image are dynamic, constantly shifting. The more we strive to stabilize them, the more they resist. Interestingly, this resistance doesn't lead to the image losing its individual structure or transforming into a different image. Instead, it remains precisely "this" image. Therefore, while the "image" of the image can change, the "meaning" or semantic structure of the image remains constant. We can assert that the meaning of the image prevents the variable image from disintegration or metamorphosis into another image. What's important to recognize is that when an image is close to consciousness, especially in the context of contemplation, even a static image takes on the characteristics of mobility. This implies that the closer we are to the source of time, the more we are immersed in changeability and mobility. Conversely, the further we distance ourselves from the temporal structure of consciousness – which occurs during perception – the more static and unchanging the image becomes. Let's keep this fundamental conclusion in mind.

With this groundwork laid, we can proceed to a better understanding of cinema. We're now prepared to realize that we're dealing with a monumental subject. We've established that the image within perception – the depicted image – is static. However, what if this static image, presented through perception, possesses the internal dynamics inherent to immanent images during inner contemplation? This scenario may trigger unexpected and revolutionary (or even catastrophic, as in the Greek sense) consequences. Primarily, it would mean that the inner life of consciousness, its subjectivity, becomes objective. Consequently, the very significance of perception, particularly concerning the criteria for distinguishing between perception and contemplation, must be reevaluated. This would suggest that we can perceive/contemplate genuine (immanent) images within things themselves (what is depicted), if we allow this perspective. One could generalize further and claim that the film image (the moving image) substantiates propositions rooted in transcendental idealism, highlighting the arbitrariness of separating the world into consciousness (immanent) and external, independent things (transcendent). Since the advent of cinema, we have all found ourselves within the realm of objective consciousness, or more accurately, objective imagination. Isn't that a revolution?!

Clearly, we have now arrived at a point crucial to our understanding of cinema. We have introduced vital concepts, although we have yet to discuss cinema itself. To approach cinema in this manner either requires us to forget it beforehand or to draw close to it. In either scenario, these paths must eventually converge. In the first approach, we enter the cinema, take our seats, and watch a film on the large screen. In French, "screen" signifies something that separates and reflects. Therefore, a screen is essentially a surface that divides events between two dimensions. The cinema screen itself exists purely for reflection; its essence lies in screening. It remains dormant, so to speak, until it is reflected upon. The screen assumes a rectangular shape. The reasons behind this specific shape and size are not within the scope of this discussion. At this point, light beams from the projector onto the screen. Swift, eternal beams of light reflect, creating fleeting images – imagination shapes these images. (It would be intriguing to encounter a cinema where, instead of a screen, there exists a rectangular, black, bottomless hole. Light from the projector would penetrate this void, disappearing into its depths. Thus, the cinema would never "appear" before us, and we would eagerly await the cinema, venturing alongside the light into endless darkness).

The screen also segregates individuals into creators and consumers. Some, with wide eyes and the sound of popcorn crunching, become engrossed in the luminous scenes, while others dance before light-sensitive sensors. Some produce, and others purchase. Some construct sets, while others on this side of the screen fabricate illusions. Of course, every filmmaker could potentially find themselves on either side of the screen. However, there's a chance that they, like a physician peering inside a person, become immune to the illusion, the enchanting fairy tale. In such cases, we can only offer our sympathies.