To the sweeping sound of a sitar, thousands and thousands of dots orbit a kaleidoscopic centre, like the individual notes of a raga circle the keynote. Repeated graphic patterns blossom and crumble back into the mass. As traditional as the reference points for James Whitney's breathtaking visual music were, the realisation with early computer animation by his brother John Whitney was just as innovative.

Spurred by an extremely convincing young man with an American accent, the spirits of the dead rise from their graves in a Mexican cemetery and set out to cross the wall to the United States. This ghost story from 1994 gives us goosebumps with its topicality and enchants with its wit, shimmering colours and vibrant shapes.

In her second feature-length film, Lee Anne Schmitt leaves California behind to explore the disparate influences that have shaped life in Utah’s Henry Mountains, home to one of the country’s last remaining bison herds, which are hunted to this day. Hewing closer to pure observation than much of the rest of her work, Schmitt and her roving camera stick tightly to the everyday rhythms of the contemporary cowboys who organise these now touristic hunts. The images of buffalos being shot at close range, disembowelled or stuffed speak for themselves, as do the endless landscapes, stubborn iconography of the former Wild West and the story of the Native American dream recounted in voice-over: the impossible return to a land never again empty.

A pop art-punk-psychedelic trip into the life and rich fantasy world of a young 1970s London housewife. Marcia is mesmerised by the astonishing mountain of folds in the bedclothes where the tiny, almost invisible tribe of the mites lives, and drawn into a conversation with the ghost of dirt. But stop, her zeitgeisty-feminist friends are coming over for morning coffee.