Tuesday, December 2, 2008
"Making Stuff" - making sense?
This is a reaction to "Making Stuff." The full text of the article written by artist, Françoise Dupré, can be found here: http://www.axisweb.org/dlFULL.aspx?ESSAYID=147
This incredibly dense article raises several contemporary ideological concerns about public, collaborative, and digital art. The author uses her work, "Project B" as a jumping off point into exploring these muli-faceted issues. To sum it up, "Project B" involved the creation of a structure that would come to be know as "The Birmingham Sebilj." (see picture below) Two artists, Françoise Dupré and Myfanwy Johns, along with a dedicated group of everyday people from the community joined forces in the hopes of creating, "a collaborative public art community project referencing the functionality of ornament and it's transformative quality on architectural space." The artists used a combination of traditional crafts, (i.e. crochet and cross stitch), along with technologically complex digital art.
One of the reasons I find this project unique is the way it deals with the conundrum facing today's media artists: digital versus analogue.
"The transformation, through digital process, of a hand made crochet sample into a machine etched pattern displaces the intimate and tactile relation that one has with the original object. There is a sense of loss as one's original seems to be disregarded in favour of the slick machine finished hard edge product. Within the context of a diasporic community, this sense of loss cannot be dismissed."
This project initially amplifies the loss of the craft, but offers participants a way to bridge their grief by connecting their original tactile creations with their digital counterparts, by teaching participants to use the software that creates the digital facsimile.
The project was also concerned with building social networks by bringing people together with a common goal. Unlike digital art which usually involves one person burning their retinas out after hours and hours in front of a screen, tactile art is mobile and can be performed almost anywhere, individually or as a group.
I personally walked away from this article feeling...overwhelmed. I have a tendency to favor digital arts. I find them less messy and exponentially easier to circulate. I am getting rid of all my physical DVD's, CD's, photos, and in some cases, books- in favor of their digitized forms. This article left me unsettled as I considered my future life in a digital bubble. I will not sit down with my grandchildren and go through family photo albums- I'll plug in my hard drive or send them a link. I won't sit on the floor sifting through old CD cases searching for that certain song- I'll just download it on itunes. These conveniences enthrall me, a life uncluttered. But...I'd never considered the grief.
To be clear, I'm not sure I'm making any sense. I'm conflicted by the transition we face in the digital age. This project is so emblematic of the challenge and so successful in striking a balance that it gives me hope, while restoring my somewhat jaded view of analogue life. Though it brings philosophical quarries...
This incredibly dense article raises several contemporary ideological concerns about public, collaborative, and digital art. The author uses her work, "Project B" as a jumping off point into exploring these muli-faceted issues. To sum it up, "Project B" involved the creation of a structure that would come to be know as "The Birmingham Sebilj." (see picture below) Two artists, Françoise Dupré and Myfanwy Johns, along with a dedicated group of everyday people from the community joined forces in the hopes of creating, "a collaborative public art community project referencing the functionality of ornament and it's transformative quality on architectural space." The artists used a combination of traditional crafts, (i.e. crochet and cross stitch), along with technologically complex digital art.
One of the reasons I find this project unique is the way it deals with the conundrum facing today's media artists: digital versus analogue.
"The transformation, through digital process, of a hand made crochet sample into a machine etched pattern displaces the intimate and tactile relation that one has with the original object. There is a sense of loss as one's original seems to be disregarded in favour of the slick machine finished hard edge product. Within the context of a diasporic community, this sense of loss cannot be dismissed."
This project initially amplifies the loss of the craft, but offers participants a way to bridge their grief by connecting their original tactile creations with their digital counterparts, by teaching participants to use the software that creates the digital facsimile.
The project was also concerned with building social networks by bringing people together with a common goal. Unlike digital art which usually involves one person burning their retinas out after hours and hours in front of a screen, tactile art is mobile and can be performed almost anywhere, individually or as a group.
I personally walked away from this article feeling...overwhelmed. I have a tendency to favor digital arts. I find them less messy and exponentially easier to circulate. I am getting rid of all my physical DVD's, CD's, photos, and in some cases, books- in favor of their digitized forms. This article left me unsettled as I considered my future life in a digital bubble. I will not sit down with my grandchildren and go through family photo albums- I'll plug in my hard drive or send them a link. I won't sit on the floor sifting through old CD cases searching for that certain song- I'll just download it on itunes. These conveniences enthrall me, a life uncluttered. But...I'd never considered the grief.
To be clear, I'm not sure I'm making any sense. I'm conflicted by the transition we face in the digital age. This project is so emblematic of the challenge and so successful in striking a balance that it gives me hope, while restoring my somewhat jaded view of analogue life. Though it brings philosophical quarries...
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Absence makes the heart grow fonder... the relationship between sound and silence
The past two Tuesdays I've sat quietly in the Union Theater first listening and then looking. On 11/18 I attended Aaron Ximm's experimental sound art performance and on 11/25 I attended a screening of "Three Songs: Recent Films by Nathaniel Dorsky". Through isolating the act of listening and viewing I feel I've furthered my understanding of the (more-complex-than-I-gave-it-credit-for) relationship between sound and image.
How lucky for me that these screenings were scheduled just one week apart, and how lucky still that the events were offered in the same location. Being in the same space for such unique* performances bettered my understanding of the way each performance worked individually, and the ways in which they contrasted/complimented each other. (*I'm not just saying "unique" like the way all undergrads say "unique" when they are at a loss for words. I'm saying unique and I'm meaning it, meaning it Merriam-Webster style- "radically distinctive and without equal"!)
Aaron Ximm's performance was a new- I've never sat in a completely dark room with a hundred strangers before (I say one-hundred, but the number is unknowable- it was dark!). We just sat in the dark and listened. I'd never publicly experienced listening in this way, and really, having tasted it once I may become an addict. I had never taken the time to REALLY think about the perpetual act of receiving sensory information through these fantastic and weirdly shaped things on my head.
Ximm's work (particularly his first piece) flooded my imagination with images of corners of the world I'd never seen, coupled with a surprising flood of personal recollections and memories. He was right in introducing the work as a prelude to dreaming. The work was at times mechanical, but often musical. Harkening back to his article, "Sound, Art, Music" the piece connected with what Ximm referred to as the "pre-conceptual emotional mind." (pg. 41)
Conversely, Dorsky's work required my sitting in a darkened room and focusing solely on images. It was so beautiful I wanted to pluck my eyes out of my head and just leave them there forever! (Does that make sense?) In any case...the work was hypnotic and left me hopelessly in love with light, color, composition- in a word- image. The work left me floating again. It was so beautiful to sit in a darkened room with tens of people, all of us quiet and mesmerized. Being quiet is awesome.
The combination of these experiences leaves me here- 3:00 in the morning, sleepless and hopelessly in love with film. I think that it's easy to get jaded in film school. I think I feel jaded in film school...a lot. Sometimes on Monday mornings when I drag myself into Carl's class and watch some crap like, "What The Water Said," or endure Chris Burden trying to breath water I think oh, my, god- this is art? But, it's experiences like this that keep me coming back for more.
I'm just sitting here thinking about how lucky I am that film making is my chosen profession. Although my aspirations air on the side of, forgive my language, "mainstream" film making the most important lesson I hope to take from these experiences is that sound and image stand on their own. They posses power, and...because it's almost 4AM and I'm getting a little punchy/cheesy I know that, "with great power comes great responsibility!" I must strive to create work that has incredibly solid audio AND solid imagery. Wow!
How lucky for me that these screenings were scheduled just one week apart, and how lucky still that the events were offered in the same location. Being in the same space for such unique* performances bettered my understanding of the way each performance worked individually, and the ways in which they contrasted/complimented each other. (*I'm not just saying "unique" like the way all undergrads say "unique" when they are at a loss for words. I'm saying unique and I'm meaning it, meaning it Merriam-Webster style- "radically distinctive and without equal"!)
Aaron Ximm's performance was a new- I've never sat in a completely dark room with a hundred strangers before (I say one-hundred, but the number is unknowable- it was dark!). We just sat in the dark and listened. I'd never publicly experienced listening in this way, and really, having tasted it once I may become an addict. I had never taken the time to REALLY think about the perpetual act of receiving sensory information through these fantastic and weirdly shaped things on my head.
Ximm's work (particularly his first piece) flooded my imagination with images of corners of the world I'd never seen, coupled with a surprising flood of personal recollections and memories. He was right in introducing the work as a prelude to dreaming. The work was at times mechanical, but often musical. Harkening back to his article, "Sound, Art, Music" the piece connected with what Ximm referred to as the "pre-conceptual emotional mind." (pg. 41)
Conversely, Dorsky's work required my sitting in a darkened room and focusing solely on images. It was so beautiful I wanted to pluck my eyes out of my head and just leave them there forever! (Does that make sense?) In any case...the work was hypnotic and left me hopelessly in love with light, color, composition- in a word- image. The work left me floating again. It was so beautiful to sit in a darkened room with tens of people, all of us quiet and mesmerized. Being quiet is awesome.
The combination of these experiences leaves me here- 3:00 in the morning, sleepless and hopelessly in love with film. I think that it's easy to get jaded in film school. I think I feel jaded in film school...a lot. Sometimes on Monday mornings when I drag myself into Carl's class and watch some crap like, "What The Water Said," or endure Chris Burden trying to breath water I think oh, my, god- this is art? But, it's experiences like this that keep me coming back for more.
I'm just sitting here thinking about how lucky I am that film making is my chosen profession. Although my aspirations air on the side of, forgive my language, "mainstream" film making the most important lesson I hope to take from these experiences is that sound and image stand on their own. They posses power, and...because it's almost 4AM and I'm getting a little punchy/cheesy I know that, "with great power comes great responsibility!" I must strive to create work that has incredibly solid audio AND solid imagery. Wow!
Monday, November 10, 2008
Mads Lynnerup's visit
Wow. I sure do like that Mads Lynnerup. I love that his art is so whimsical and profound. The first video he showed in class, the one where he tied one end of a rope to a tree and the other to his leg and just full out ran- that was fantastic. It was so emblematic of our ties to nature and the impossibility of escape.
I would also like to take this opportunity to say, "Chris Burden- what in the world? You should be more like Mads Lynnerup! Stop drowning yourself in that velvet water or whatever the heck that was! Chris- stop getting shot in the arm, and hey- Vito Acconci enough with the masturbating!"
Tank Car was classic!
I would also like to take this opportunity to say, "Chris Burden- what in the world? You should be more like Mads Lynnerup! Stop drowning yourself in that velvet water or whatever the heck that was! Chris- stop getting shot in the arm, and hey- Vito Acconci enough with the masturbating!"
Tank Car was classic!
Sunday, October 5, 2008
WEEKEND FILMMAKER VISIT-LEARNING TIME
This weekend I had the opportunity to attend a panel discussion with Charles Burnett, Iverson White, and Kevin Everson. Boy, was it awful! No, I’m just kidding- it was fresh and informative; it made me think of verite filmmaking differently. I’ve been very fortunate to work on some pretty pimp documentaries, (be sure to tune in to PBS October 15th at 7:00PM for my first feature length doc), and this winter I’m heading to Laos to complete filming on my current project. So, verite is a huge part of what I do, but it’s a slippery slope, one of the slipperiest. Hearing these distinguished, professional filmmakers discuss verite helped me launch a new way of thinking.
There are multiple realities. I think it was Mr. Burnett who said something to that effect. It’s so simple! Verity, by its very definition is truth! But, people are so complex, so messed-up, that, yes, there ARE multiple truths. Well, that makes things easier, but it makes things harder, but mostly easier…almost.
Well, who is the film for? Is it for me? Is it for the audience? Who am I appeasing- my funders? Myself? My subject? What’s the story I’m trying to tell- and what’s the truth? WHAT’S THE TRUTH!? Well, with any footage- especially the ridiculous amounts of footage amassed in the attempt to make a feature length documentary- any TRUTH could happen! Any truth could emerge! It’s a little overwhelming. How can I know how to frame the moments in the film to tell the story that is the most true and fulfills the obligation I feel to myself, my subject and my funders!? Mr. Burnett and the other panelists discussed striking this balance.
The challenges of directing films, writing films, and the importance of casting were also mentioned. Regional specificity, as well as the intricate relationships between race, artists, and audience were also vocalized by this extraordinary panel, in an unpretentious way, free, (for the most part) from the trappings of academia. The candidness of the panel was both intellectually and creatively inspiring- like visiting a dinosaur exhibit at a museum- but also, not like that at all.
There are multiple realities. I think it was Mr. Burnett who said something to that effect. It’s so simple! Verity, by its very definition is truth! But, people are so complex, so messed-up, that, yes, there ARE multiple truths. Well, that makes things easier, but it makes things harder, but mostly easier…almost.
Well, who is the film for? Is it for me? Is it for the audience? Who am I appeasing- my funders? Myself? My subject? What’s the story I’m trying to tell- and what’s the truth? WHAT’S THE TRUTH!? Well, with any footage- especially the ridiculous amounts of footage amassed in the attempt to make a feature length documentary- any TRUTH could happen! Any truth could emerge! It’s a little overwhelming. How can I know how to frame the moments in the film to tell the story that is the most true and fulfills the obligation I feel to myself, my subject and my funders!? Mr. Burnett and the other panelists discussed striking this balance.
The challenges of directing films, writing films, and the importance of casting were also mentioned. Regional specificity, as well as the intricate relationships between race, artists, and audience were also vocalized by this extraordinary panel, in an unpretentious way, free, (for the most part) from the trappings of academia. The candidness of the panel was both intellectually and creatively inspiring- like visiting a dinosaur exhibit at a museum- but also, not like that at all.
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