Class,
Pardon my language. I don't usually title things with such vulgar beginnings. However, in this case, I might even reiterate the phrase. Holy fucking shit--INLAND EMPIRE.
If you're not aware, this is the new David Lynch picture which is currently playing at the Amherst Theatre across from south campus. If you love or hate David Lynch, you should probably see this film. Here are three reasons:
1) The entire three hour opus was shot on digital video with only one cheap consumer camera. And it looks absolutely gorgeous. I thought that during the film I was watching something that was shot half on 35mm (because of the film grain from the projector). That's how good it was, some of the shots are that clear. I hate digital, but I love that this film was shot on it. It was incredible and makes me hopeful for the medium.
2) I have laughed and cried at the same film before. However, I have never been absolutely terrified and laughed at the same film before. I'm not even talking a chiller with comic relief: This film was like watching my worst nightmare having a nightmare and yet I laughed harder than I maybe ever have in a movie theatre.
3) The movie completely disregards plot, scene, action, setting, pacing, dialogue. Most of it was written the day of the shoot. And yet you'll be deciphering it for days afterward.
4) Bonus: there's a lumberjack sawing wood during a dance number.
Love,
Christopher
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
On Marcel 2
A second consideration to be made in regards to Marcel is the notion of "carving out a space" or "squatting." It seems that, unashamedly, these notions are derived mostly from fear of being paved over. And why shouldn't we fear such a fate? Big business and the movie industry have huge power and money to campaign and cause change. It makes sense, then, that we'd need to fight them for our own niche as artists.
However, as it stands now, IP is largely free. I mean this in the sense of openness and not monetary freedom. All you need to do now is buy a server somewhere and you can host and share whatever you like. I have my own server space on a machine in Chicago, so does my friend Ian (though his is elsewhere and oft used for more diabolical purposes.)
There's noone now who can leach our bandwidth or keep us from sharing whatever we wish. Of course we aren't talking about the Very High Bandwidth that Marcel can promote - but that has, seemingly, more to do with funding than resources. With enough money, Ian and I could synchronize music over the 'net too.
Freedom, right?
However, as it stands now, IP is largely free. I mean this in the sense of openness and not monetary freedom. All you need to do now is buy a server somewhere and you can host and share whatever you like. I have my own server space on a machine in Chicago, so does my friend Ian (though his is elsewhere and oft used for more diabolical purposes.)
There's noone now who can leach our bandwidth or keep us from sharing whatever we wish. Of course we aren't talking about the Very High Bandwidth that Marcel can promote - but that has, seemingly, more to do with funding than resources. With enough money, Ian and I could synchronize music over the 'net too.
Freedom, right?
On Marcel
What struck me initially about the presentation on Marcel was that maybe the idea that Art needed to be at a forefront of new technology and guide its development was somehow backwards.
It seems that art is so necessarily reactionary, that it naturally comes after technological innovation. In so doing, it keeps the motion of humankind in check--lets us know when things have gone too far awry.
But maybe this reactionary nature of art always comes too late. It's certainly possible that the creation of new technology to feed the ends of artistic purpose alone could provide unique answers. It reminds me of the guy who suspends himself from steel hooks and is attempting to get an extra ear to grow on his arm. I can't remember his name, but he's certainly *unique*.
The technology that he's working with is new, and his projects are helping to develop new means of answering questions - questions that were never, specifically, asked.
It seems that art is so necessarily reactionary, that it naturally comes after technological innovation. In so doing, it keeps the motion of humankind in check--lets us know when things have gone too far awry.
But maybe this reactionary nature of art always comes too late. It's certainly possible that the creation of new technology to feed the ends of artistic purpose alone could provide unique answers. It reminds me of the guy who suspends himself from steel hooks and is attempting to get an extra ear to grow on his arm. I can't remember his name, but he's certainly *unique*.
The technology that he's working with is new, and his projects are helping to develop new means of answering questions - questions that were never, specifically, asked.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Difference in comparison.
Alright, we all know the Weston Pepper resembles a nude, so what was my point?
The first thing I pulled from comparing it to an actual nude was that it actually started to look like a pepper again. I needed to remember how the Pepper resembled a nude before that view of it would come back to me. It was as if it was a pepper again once an association was actually made with a naked human form.
So, let's see of the opposite is true:
Click the pictures to seem them uncut.
Does the nude exude nudeness or does the pepper exude pepperness? This isn't an altogether irrelevant discussion. We're dealing with a mimicry in its natural and mimicking context. It may be helpful to know the answer to this before we move on.
The next question is: Is the pepper remarkable or unremarkable?
The first thing I pulled from comparing it to an actual nude was that it actually started to look like a pepper again. I needed to remember how the Pepper resembled a nude before that view of it would come back to me. It was as if it was a pepper again once an association was actually made with a naked human form.
So, let's see of the opposite is true:
Click the pictures to seem them uncut.
Does the nude exude nudeness or does the pepper exude pepperness? This isn't an altogether irrelevant discussion. We're dealing with a mimicry in its natural and mimicking context. It may be helpful to know the answer to this before we move on.
The next question is: Is the pepper remarkable or unremarkable?
A Comparison
Images speak louder than words. So, all this blog will consist of is a comparison. Bite.
I know, it's that Goddamned Weston Pepper again.
I know, it's that Goddamned Weston Pepper again.
List of Photographers
Ah, Wikipedia. How sensitive you make us to our cultural failings. Everyone should probably check out the following:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_photographers
That's right. A list of photographers. Here's something to think about. It's easy enough to explain away like this:
It's a list of NOTABLE photographers, see? If it were a list of every photographer, then nearly ever human would be on it. Certainly everyone with a camera phone or disposable camera at the beach. And then, depending upon our definition, it would include anyone who ever set a deck chair in the sun and bleached lines into the wood of their house. So it's not official, but it's an attempt to list notable photographers for reference.
But where it gets interesting is the thought of notoriety as it compares to accomplishment or even skill. Many famous photographers are famous simply because they took so many pictures and worked so hard to get them seen. Some of those same people are terrible photographers.
A good photographic exercise: drive out to some place real far that looks beautiful. Bring a 35mm camera and take only ONE picture. Don't bracket, don't shoot two, don't try one from different angles. Make one exposure.
Step two: Add yourself to this Wikipedia list of photographers.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_photographers
That's right. A list of photographers. Here's something to think about. It's easy enough to explain away like this:
It's a list of NOTABLE photographers, see? If it were a list of every photographer, then nearly ever human would be on it. Certainly everyone with a camera phone or disposable camera at the beach. And then, depending upon our definition, it would include anyone who ever set a deck chair in the sun and bleached lines into the wood of their house. So it's not official, but it's an attempt to list notable photographers for reference.
But where it gets interesting is the thought of notoriety as it compares to accomplishment or even skill. Many famous photographers are famous simply because they took so many pictures and worked so hard to get them seen. Some of those same people are terrible photographers.
A good photographic exercise: drive out to some place real far that looks beautiful. Bring a 35mm camera and take only ONE picture. Don't bracket, don't shoot two, don't try one from different angles. Make one exposure.
Step two: Add yourself to this Wikipedia list of photographers.
Visual Culture
We generally consider visual culture to be the major culture requiring our inquiry, vehemence, and defense. It's the overwhelming result of advertising, media, and corporation. So, what's visual culture matter to the blind?
My step mother works with a blind woman. You could call it volunteering, but she's come to be very good friends with this woman and their interaction is certainly not strictly on the level of the uninterested volunteer.
One morning while driving, Ms. Winslow commented that she wanted to write a poem and had 9 things to write a poem about. She listed them slowly: the wind on her face, the rush of water in a stream. However, what she didn't realize was that she was the poem. There. The blind woman with 9 things already tucked away to write about.
My step mother works with a blind woman. You could call it volunteering, but she's come to be very good friends with this woman and their interaction is certainly not strictly on the level of the uninterested volunteer.
One morning while driving, Ms. Winslow commented that she wanted to write a poem and had 9 things to write a poem about. She listed them slowly: the wind on her face, the rush of water in a stream. However, what she didn't realize was that she was the poem. There. The blind woman with 9 things already tucked away to write about.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Cinema Eye
Is it possible that once something has been shown through the Cinema Eye that it effectively changes? I'm referring here to an early reading on Dziga Vertov: http://www.imagesjournal.com/issue05/reviews/vertov.htm
What's mentioned there is the use of the Camera Eye as a filter through which Vertov views the busy (maddeningly busy) Soviet world. But is there a sense in which this world is changed when it enters the lens?
I'm already convinced that photography is effectively (and will always be) a lie. There are way too many variables to suppose that any photograph actively and accurately portrays the WHOLE TRUTH. What I'm talking about here is different.
Perhaps the role of the camera is actually to transmogrify.
Is the world actually changed and redrawn once it's been shown as a photo or film? Maybe. There are architects that won't build because it's impure. The world as is is a very tenable and fragile thing.
What's mentioned there is the use of the Camera Eye as a filter through which Vertov views the busy (maddeningly busy) Soviet world. But is there a sense in which this world is changed when it enters the lens?
I'm already convinced that photography is effectively (and will always be) a lie. There are way too many variables to suppose that any photograph actively and accurately portrays the WHOLE TRUTH. What I'm talking about here is different.
Perhaps the role of the camera is actually to transmogrify.
Is the world actually changed and redrawn once it's been shown as a photo or film? Maybe. There are architects that won't build because it's impure. The world as is is a very tenable and fragile thing.
Trade, Craft, Critique
A lot has been said about the craft of photography vs. the books and art. I've held my tongue, more or less. I can no longer do so. I have to write 8 more blogs.
So there's apparently some disagreement between the art students and those who would separate themselves from this designation. Some of the 'Photo Kids' are here because they actually want to work commercially and wouldn't prefer the opportunity to learn about what matters in sophisticated photography or theory.
That's fine. Fuck it. I understand that you need an education to make it in the world of professional photography. However, you've gotta look at where you're going. UB is a school that has a long, thick, wonderful history in theory. It also happens to be a school that teaches photography from a conceptual angle. Sure, maybe that sucks. But you applied here. You could have gone somewhere else.
And still could. (:
So there's apparently some disagreement between the art students and those who would separate themselves from this designation. Some of the 'Photo Kids' are here because they actually want to work commercially and wouldn't prefer the opportunity to learn about what matters in sophisticated photography or theory.
That's fine. Fuck it. I understand that you need an education to make it in the world of professional photography. However, you've gotta look at where you're going. UB is a school that has a long, thick, wonderful history in theory. It also happens to be a school that teaches photography from a conceptual angle. Sure, maybe that sucks. But you applied here. You could have gone somewhere else.
And still could. (:
A Word on Originality
One critique that often gets thrown at works shown in class is that of originality of work. This could be because everything has been done and redone or it could be because people look too close for inspiration. That is, it's no vision quest to Google "art photography." (You should try this, it's fun).
I guess what I'd like to get at though is Type-in-Time. This is the history-based criticism that says that a surrealist in 2007 is no surrealist at all. Hell, even Jerry Eulsmann was way too late, right? If you wanna call this surrealism, you're a bit too damn late:
That's Type-in-Time. You can't perform effectively as a breed or brand of artist unless you live in those life and times. When Hunter S. Thompson talks about watching the excitement of the 60's crashing on the shore and finally rolling back, he's talking about that possibility no longer existing thereafter. Those artists can come back, and they can perform the same songs and howl the same poems, but Richie Havens won't be at Woodstock anymore.
That's why post-modernists never sample history without distorting it. They realized that it was impossible to make Greek architecture in Boston.
You can never go home again.
I guess what I'd like to get at though is Type-in-Time. This is the history-based criticism that says that a surrealist in 2007 is no surrealist at all. Hell, even Jerry Eulsmann was way too late, right? If you wanna call this surrealism, you're a bit too damn late:
That's Type-in-Time. You can't perform effectively as a breed or brand of artist unless you live in those life and times. When Hunter S. Thompson talks about watching the excitement of the 60's crashing on the shore and finally rolling back, he's talking about that possibility no longer existing thereafter. Those artists can come back, and they can perform the same songs and howl the same poems, but Richie Havens won't be at Woodstock anymore.
That's why post-modernists never sample history without distorting it. They realized that it was impossible to make Greek architecture in Boston.
You can never go home again.
@ N. Gorman Part II
I'm already drying out, running out of "interesting" things to write in this blog and I have nine more to go. So, as whims carry you...
I was in the shower last night thinking about my blog and Gorman's. I was thinking about my last line concerning United Colors of Benetton - "Let's go shopping." I started to think that maybe my point was that these images would do more than simply SIGNIFY something other than shopping. Perhaps I was also saying that I wouldn't prefer the presence of these images, and that something more palatable would be preferred.
I really started to question myself. Because, let's face it, I hate advertisements. I'm not looking forward to the day that the Internet explodes over the issue of AdBlock. If you don't use Firefox and you don't use AdBlock, you still see banners and ads on the web. AdBlock users don't and it's wonderful.
Back to the issue: Would my preference then be that advertising is less real? This is what I seem to be saying, that I prefer the insanely pleasant in advertising and that topical issues are somehow bothersome. Darfur? I've got homework to do!
Maybe the solution is a happy neither. Let's neither misrepresent products through over-realism (UCoB), nor through hyper-awesomeism ("Good to the last drop!")
Let's shoot for reality! My Lemonade advertisement would be this: A bunch of young kids are playing soccer in a field as cheesy music starts. We cut to a mother pouring Lemonade from a pitcher. Next to the pitcher is my carton of lemonade. Brand name: Good Lemonade. She calls the kids and they coming running over, forgetting about the soccer. One young boy (clearly the mother's son) reaches for a big tall glass of Good Lemonade.
We then cut to a slow motion segue of Good Lemonade, ice, and lemons dropping across the screen. They explode across a white backdrop. It's a perfect image of refreshment.
Cut back to the mother: She looks at the kids and says, "boy you were thirsty!"
Cut to the kids who are sitting around distracted. One boy didn't really want any lemonade, he's just sucking on a piece of ice. The son of the mother looks up with a half-impressed face.
"Meh. It was kinda good. Maybe."
I was in the shower last night thinking about my blog and Gorman's. I was thinking about my last line concerning United Colors of Benetton - "Let's go shopping." I started to think that maybe my point was that these images would do more than simply SIGNIFY something other than shopping. Perhaps I was also saying that I wouldn't prefer the presence of these images, and that something more palatable would be preferred.
I really started to question myself. Because, let's face it, I hate advertisements. I'm not looking forward to the day that the Internet explodes over the issue of AdBlock. If you don't use Firefox and you don't use AdBlock, you still see banners and ads on the web. AdBlock users don't and it's wonderful.
Back to the issue: Would my preference then be that advertising is less real? This is what I seem to be saying, that I prefer the insanely pleasant in advertising and that topical issues are somehow bothersome. Darfur? I've got homework to do!
Maybe the solution is a happy neither. Let's neither misrepresent products through over-realism (UCoB), nor through hyper-awesomeism ("Good to the last drop!")
Let's shoot for reality! My Lemonade advertisement would be this: A bunch of young kids are playing soccer in a field as cheesy music starts. We cut to a mother pouring Lemonade from a pitcher. Next to the pitcher is my carton of lemonade. Brand name: Good Lemonade. She calls the kids and they coming running over, forgetting about the soccer. One young boy (clearly the mother's son) reaches for a big tall glass of Good Lemonade.
We then cut to a slow motion segue of Good Lemonade, ice, and lemons dropping across the screen. They explode across a white backdrop. It's a perfect image of refreshment.
Cut back to the mother: She looks at the kids and says, "boy you were thirsty!"
Cut to the kids who are sitting around distracted. One boy didn't really want any lemonade, he's just sucking on a piece of ice. The son of the mother looks up with a half-impressed face.
"Meh. It was kinda good. Maybe."
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
THE HOLGA
I guess this mostly doesn't relate to Peter Peter Pumpkin-Eater. That is: Peter Burda.
The Holga is pretty wonderful as a tool because it allows the photographer to produce with his/her eye and not with the multitudes of tools and tricks of photography. It offers freedom, but it comes with the Holga Look that can't be avoided.
This is a great asset, a wonderful tool, but what must be avoided is the reliance on this Look. Just because the Holga looks cool doesn't mean everything shot with it will mean anything. One shouldn't let the Holga Look define the collection, the work.
Burda mostly doesn't, but he's towing the line.
The Holga is pretty wonderful as a tool because it allows the photographer to produce with his/her eye and not with the multitudes of tools and tricks of photography. It offers freedom, but it comes with the Holga Look that can't be avoided.
This is a great asset, a wonderful tool, but what must be avoided is the reliance on this Look. Just because the Holga looks cool doesn't mean everything shot with it will mean anything. One shouldn't let the Holga Look define the collection, the work.
Burda mostly doesn't, but he's towing the line.
So, in class today I started going on about Cast Away. Probably because I'd seen it really recently and it's still fresh in my mind. What concerned me was the problem of recognition.
This is different from the problem of NOT recognizing. Entirely different. That's something we encounter when looking for familiarity, for guidance, for help or light. What I'm talking about is the impossibility of verisimilitude in the realm of recognition.
For instance: no matter what role the actor who played Napolean Dynamite steps into next he will still be Napolean Dynamite. I don't have the mental capacity to re-ambiguate that guy, not after that summer where everyone talked about tater tots incessantly. Myself included.
The problem that this poses is certainly burdensome for the actor. Unless, of course, you're Harrison Ford. In which case this is no burden at all but rather informs your decision as an actor. There's no need to develop the Character Indiana Jones, because we're already familiar with Han Solo. Wipe your hands of it. You're done.
The more serious problem relates to the viewer, the human. If you're alive and and attempting to experience things natively, this recognition is truly problematic. It means for us that we must renaturalize ourselves before we can truly experience something.
This is different from the problem of NOT recognizing. Entirely different. That's something we encounter when looking for familiarity, for guidance, for help or light. What I'm talking about is the impossibility of verisimilitude in the realm of recognition.
For instance: no matter what role the actor who played Napolean Dynamite steps into next he will still be Napolean Dynamite. I don't have the mental capacity to re-ambiguate that guy, not after that summer where everyone talked about tater tots incessantly. Myself included.
The problem that this poses is certainly burdensome for the actor. Unless, of course, you're Harrison Ford. In which case this is no burden at all but rather informs your decision as an actor. There's no need to develop the Character Indiana Jones, because we're already familiar with Han Solo. Wipe your hands of it. You're done.
The more serious problem relates to the viewer, the human. If you're alive and and attempting to experience things natively, this recognition is truly problematic. It means for us that we must renaturalize ourselves before we can truly experience something.
A City That Care Forgot
It's far too late to believe that photography can tell the truth. We already know that and contemporary theory and photography has shown us repeatedly why the full truth cannot be told in a photograph. From multiple angles to manipulation. From high-minded theory to simple common sense.
And yet there is the possibility of telling the partial truth. Robert Polidori seems to know this. This articles:
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/09/22/arts/design/22floo.html?ex=1316577600&en=2bcc0990ebbf73b7&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss
Seems to know this as well. Repeatedly the article address Polidori's use of subtle emphasis and dry horizontality. By using a large format camera, by dragging it through the wastes, we know that Polidori's shots will be still and somewhat mellow. Anyone who has used a large format camera is aware of this. Because, let's face, that shit takes forever to set up.
So, sure, we have that to deal with the necessary changes that simply using a certain camera will impose. If he'd used a Holga, we'd expect saturated, vignetted, dark circus-like images of destruction. But perhaps by choosing this medium, Polidori is choosing to expose and not to distort a certain truth.
Or, at least a certain portion of the truth. Or, if nothing else, a certain portion of the truth of an event. Maybe.
And yet there is the possibility of telling the partial truth. Robert Polidori seems to know this. This articles:
http://www.nytimes.com/2006/09/22/arts/design/22floo.html?ex=1316577600&en=2bcc0990ebbf73b7&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss
Seems to know this as well. Repeatedly the article address Polidori's use of subtle emphasis and dry horizontality. By using a large format camera, by dragging it through the wastes, we know that Polidori's shots will be still and somewhat mellow. Anyone who has used a large format camera is aware of this. Because, let's face, that shit takes forever to set up.
So, sure, we have that to deal with the necessary changes that simply using a certain camera will impose. If he'd used a Holga, we'd expect saturated, vignetted, dark circus-like images of destruction. But perhaps by choosing this medium, Polidori is choosing to expose and not to distort a certain truth.
Or, at least a certain portion of the truth. Or, if nothing else, a certain portion of the truth of an event. Maybe.
@ Nikki Gorman
Hell yes.
Good to see you feel the same way I do on this one. I'm equally unimpressed by the Benetton ads, but I'm gonna take a slightly different approach at bemoaning them. Because, let's face it, you're right. There's absolutely no effort here to create a positive response to these issues. This is as vapid as the Meiser work, but infinitely more disgusting.
The problem that I'd rather focus on is the issue of signage and labeling. We can start with the less or seemingly non-offensive images and move on to the truly awful ones. For instance: we're shown an image of a black dude holding sweaters to either side of his head. The message here could be, "we're accepting of all colors!" But it could just as easily be, "hey, I'm a colored guy!" The last time someone referred to a black guy as "colored" in a non-offensive way was years and years ago. And then the kicker, the sign: United Colors of Benetton. Wait, huh? What? So these are the United Colors? Aged racism?
Moving on then: let's presume that the great old United Colors of Benetton sign can be applied to any image that it's stuck too. And why wouldn't we presume this? It's generally true that a sign, once applied, labels the thing that it is applied to. When I go to the Store, I walk in under the sign that says store.
So, what are we walking into when we approach the sign: United Colors of Benneton?
AIDS?
The Death Penalty?
Greeeeaaaat. Let's go shopping.
Good to see you feel the same way I do on this one. I'm equally unimpressed by the Benetton ads, but I'm gonna take a slightly different approach at bemoaning them. Because, let's face it, you're right. There's absolutely no effort here to create a positive response to these issues. This is as vapid as the Meiser work, but infinitely more disgusting.
The problem that I'd rather focus on is the issue of signage and labeling. We can start with the less or seemingly non-offensive images and move on to the truly awful ones. For instance: we're shown an image of a black dude holding sweaters to either side of his head. The message here could be, "we're accepting of all colors!" But it could just as easily be, "hey, I'm a colored guy!" The last time someone referred to a black guy as "colored" in a non-offensive way was years and years ago. And then the kicker, the sign: United Colors of Benetton. Wait, huh? What? So these are the United Colors? Aged racism?
Moving on then: let's presume that the great old United Colors of Benetton sign can be applied to any image that it's stuck too. And why wouldn't we presume this? It's generally true that a sign, once applied, labels the thing that it is applied to. When I go to the Store, I walk in under the sign that says store.
So, what are we walking into when we approach the sign: United Colors of Benneton?
AIDS?
The Death Penalty?
Greeeeaaaat. Let's go shopping.
More on Theory and Depth
My goddamn browser crashed after writing this entire post. I'll start again. Quality not guaranteed.
Is anyone aware that Travis Pastrana did a double backflip on a dirtbike? He did. I learned how to ride dirtbikes with "Mad" Mike Jones. I was a kid at the time, but he was a friend of a friend and a nice guy. We sat around after a day of riding and discussed the possible future of motocross. Everyone agreed that a backflip would be impossible. Not enough torque. Jones doesn't do them anymore, he almost died. Pastrana has done a DOUBLE.
In 1960, two men reached the bottom of the Mariana Trench in a small vessel. That's right. Humans have been to the bottom of the ocean. The Trench is as deep as Mt. Everest is high, and we've been there.
Both of these things seemed stupid and impossible before they were done. They were laughed at. Theory has reached milestones of accomplishment as well, except that here we're talking about the flux of ideas and not the physical accomplishments of possible morons who could have died.
My favorite accomplishment of Theory, a gem for sure, is Derrida's deconstruction of the word 'is.' If this doesn't seem slippery enough a word for you, just remember "Existential Willie's" defense of his actions during his famous impeachment trial: http://www.slate.com/id/1000162/
Derrida chooses to italicize every use of the word 'is.' Because we can never be sure that anything is anything else. Every direct comparison is a simile. Just as every direct comparison cannot be a simile.
See?
Is anyone aware that Travis Pastrana did a double backflip on a dirtbike? He did. I learned how to ride dirtbikes with "Mad" Mike Jones. I was a kid at the time, but he was a friend of a friend and a nice guy. We sat around after a day of riding and discussed the possible future of motocross. Everyone agreed that a backflip would be impossible. Not enough torque. Jones doesn't do them anymore, he almost died. Pastrana has done a DOUBLE.
In 1960, two men reached the bottom of the Mariana Trench in a small vessel. That's right. Humans have been to the bottom of the ocean. The Trench is as deep as Mt. Everest is high, and we've been there.
Both of these things seemed stupid and impossible before they were done. They were laughed at. Theory has reached milestones of accomplishment as well, except that here we're talking about the flux of ideas and not the physical accomplishments of possible morons who could have died.
My favorite accomplishment of Theory, a gem for sure, is Derrida's deconstruction of the word 'is.' If this doesn't seem slippery enough a word for you, just remember "Existential Willie's" defense of his actions during his famous impeachment trial: http://www.slate.com/id/1000162/
Derrida chooses to italicize every use of the word 'is.' Because we can never be sure that anything is anything else. Every direct comparison is a simile. Just as every direct comparison cannot be a simile.
See?
Problems with criticism of artform with artform.
Steven Meisel: We already began to explore some of the issues with his 'work.' It may be necessary to reiterate some of these:
First and foremost we have the problem of context and contextualizing. When Meisel's work is hung in a gallery, it appears to state the problem with surgery and surface. When the same work is shown in Vogue magazine, it appears vapidly shocking. That is to say, it simply utilizes the imagery of brutalized beauty to sell. It's hard to believe that in this context there is any overt message. That is not to say that magazine cannot speak like galleries. If, for instance, Meisel's spread were to be found in Adbusters, the message would be thoroughly different.
-> http://adbusters.org/home/
They send a quite different message than Vogue. Perhaps the inclusion of the price of the models' worn items is enough to differ the message. Perhaps this alone can construe an entirely different view.
Before we go on, we must first presume that Meisel's 'message' is essentially, at its core, empty. That is to say that there is no inherent voice to it. When Meisel photographed his models, it was in an entirely controlled environment. This means that (presupposing that photography is not always inherently a lie), there is the possibility for meaning in 'real' circumstances. Were Meisel to have photographed models as they actually underwent surgery, he might have captured some inherent meaning. Of course we mean here metaphor, not truth.
So, assuming that this is not the case, Meisel's work is essentially, metaphorically, vapid. We can now allow it to take on meaning according only to context. Lucky break for the photographer not to have a message. It allows us to analyze the work as a cultural anomaly.
I'm inclined to think that it waters down the message and makes it only for the viewer, and less for the think. Perhaps a more acute criticism can be found in Gilliam's Brazil.
Because I couldn't show it in class, here's a wonderful clip from the film:
First and foremost we have the problem of context and contextualizing. When Meisel's work is hung in a gallery, it appears to state the problem with surgery and surface. When the same work is shown in Vogue magazine, it appears vapidly shocking. That is to say, it simply utilizes the imagery of brutalized beauty to sell. It's hard to believe that in this context there is any overt message. That is not to say that magazine cannot speak like galleries. If, for instance, Meisel's spread were to be found in Adbusters, the message would be thoroughly different.
-> http://adbusters.org/home/
They send a quite different message than Vogue. Perhaps the inclusion of the price of the models' worn items is enough to differ the message. Perhaps this alone can construe an entirely different view.
Before we go on, we must first presume that Meisel's 'message' is essentially, at its core, empty. That is to say that there is no inherent voice to it. When Meisel photographed his models, it was in an entirely controlled environment. This means that (presupposing that photography is not always inherently a lie), there is the possibility for meaning in 'real' circumstances. Were Meisel to have photographed models as they actually underwent surgery, he might have captured some inherent meaning. Of course we mean here metaphor, not truth.
So, assuming that this is not the case, Meisel's work is essentially, metaphorically, vapid. We can now allow it to take on meaning according only to context. Lucky break for the photographer not to have a message. It allows us to analyze the work as a cultural anomaly.
I'm inclined to think that it waters down the message and makes it only for the viewer, and less for the think. Perhaps a more acute criticism can be found in Gilliam's Brazil.
Because I couldn't show it in class, here's a wonderful clip from the film:
Monday, February 19, 2007
A word on serendipity
I was thinking about the first response that came to me as we discussed the digitization of archiving. I don't wish to get into my past Blog entry's shit on digital vs. analog signals and warmth and tone and bits and such. Instead, what interested me was the LUCK involved.
I was reading an essay last night in The Believer on Fielding Dawson. Some of it can be found here:
http://www.believermag.com/issues/200612/?read=article_fox
What struck me was the place where Dawson was inspired, the place where he met his working contemporaries. Black Mountain College. It intrigued me the minds that worked at this place. Many of whom knew Dawson and came up in the essay.
I investigated it considerably and though about applying for grad school there, in the past, 50 years back. Daydreamed.
Then I got the email from Bleu about researching Jonathan Williams. I knew the name rung a bell and it sent me back into my study of Black Mountain.
It seems that the most inspiring connections - the most alluring luck - in the world of literature comes from serendipitous chance. Not through hyperlinking.
There's something to be said for time spent nose-deep in books and the quest that comes with discovering new information on paper. Algorithmic searching never seems to provide the satisfying response that a more labor-intensive libraric quest might.
No?
I was reading an essay last night in The Believer on Fielding Dawson. Some of it can be found here:
http://www.believermag.com/issues/200612/?read=article_fox
What struck me was the place where Dawson was inspired, the place where he met his working contemporaries. Black Mountain College. It intrigued me the minds that worked at this place. Many of whom knew Dawson and came up in the essay.
I investigated it considerably and though about applying for grad school there, in the past, 50 years back. Daydreamed.
Then I got the email from Bleu about researching Jonathan Williams. I knew the name rung a bell and it sent me back into my study of Black Mountain.
It seems that the most inspiring connections - the most alluring luck - in the world of literature comes from serendipitous chance. Not through hyperlinking.
There's something to be said for time spent nose-deep in books and the quest that comes with discovering new information on paper. Algorithmic searching never seems to provide the satisfying response that a more labor-intensive libraric quest might.
No?
Monday, February 12, 2007
Buddha Trainwreck
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about film projects. The film-feedback project and a work-in-progress got me thinking about the things that film can do that other media cannot. I guess if we wanted to, we could sort through the masters of each individual medium and find that what they did was unworkable elsewhere.
Sure, it's a conjecture, but it might be what makes a work good. The impressionists were responsive to photography, right? "A photo can do this? Well, a photo can't do that."
So, in keeping with properties of media that cannot be replicated, here is my proposal for a new work:
Two Buddha Machines play a loop in tandem from two separate stereo channels. The loop is less than a second long. Due to the minor difference in length (the wonderful imperfection of this machines), they begin to trainwreck after a few 'measures.'
Basically, their rhythms will fall further apart. If you don't know 'trainwreck,' it's a DJing term.
Two projectors will each be displaying the same or a different piece of film on two halves of a screen. The halves will mimic the stereo channels. Each projector will be loaded with a loop of film exactly the length of the corresponding Buddha Machine's loop (or precisely twice, no more).
As the looping of the audio falls out of sync, the looping of the film will do the same. The viewer's mind will make new connections between the sound and audio just as they make new connections between the 'instances' in the half-second loop.
It's a trainwreck meditation.
Sure, it's a conjecture, but it might be what makes a work good. The impressionists were responsive to photography, right? "A photo can do this? Well, a photo can't do that."
So, in keeping with properties of media that cannot be replicated, here is my proposal for a new work:
Two Buddha Machines play a loop in tandem from two separate stereo channels. The loop is less than a second long. Due to the minor difference in length (the wonderful imperfection of this machines), they begin to trainwreck after a few 'measures.'
Basically, their rhythms will fall further apart. If you don't know 'trainwreck,' it's a DJing term.
Two projectors will each be displaying the same or a different piece of film on two halves of a screen. The halves will mimic the stereo channels. Each projector will be loaded with a loop of film exactly the length of the corresponding Buddha Machine's loop (or precisely twice, no more).
As the looping of the audio falls out of sync, the looping of the film will do the same. The viewer's mind will make new connections between the sound and audio just as they make new connections between the 'instances' in the half-second loop.
It's a trainwreck meditation.
Monday, February 5, 2007
On The Tactile in Arts
I had a terrible time explaining to my friend and co-worker why I had purchased a Super 8mm movie camera instead of a digital handicam. I showed him some Youtube short films of passing cars and pedestrians shot on 8mm. Over and over, I repeated the shot of pedestrians crossing in front of a store, as the light from behind them created silhouettes.
It has a better feel than digital, I explained. Digital just looks like shit, imperfections are better than artifacts, grain is better than pixellation. I tried but couldn't explain.
It reminded me of the Boards of Canada talking about how they swore they could hear the difference between analog and digital reverb in music recordings. This is a group who produce some of the finest electronic music out there - some of the most endearing and the most intelligent - completely in analog.
This is a debate that in no way resists the progress of technology. But what if technology just makes us lazy? The hardest part to explain to my friend was that processing the film would be astronomically expensive - something to the tune of $10 a minute. Why limit myself? I'm sure not rich.
And what of the photographer who shoots only one image a day - exposes only one negative. Isn't this the kind of discipline we should cultivate in order to maintain photography as a craft? No longer would we have to argue that it isn't simply the one picture we've taken out of 14 billion that captured light and form perfectly. It was all the work we put into one image in one day - or three minutes for $30.
No more fucking around.
Somewhere between work ethic and the warmth of analog is a comfortable place that favors puppets over CGI and hammers over keys.
It has a better feel than digital, I explained. Digital just looks like shit, imperfections are better than artifacts, grain is better than pixellation. I tried but couldn't explain.
It reminded me of the Boards of Canada talking about how they swore they could hear the difference between analog and digital reverb in music recordings. This is a group who produce some of the finest electronic music out there - some of the most endearing and the most intelligent - completely in analog.
This is a debate that in no way resists the progress of technology. But what if technology just makes us lazy? The hardest part to explain to my friend was that processing the film would be astronomically expensive - something to the tune of $10 a minute. Why limit myself? I'm sure not rich.
And what of the photographer who shoots only one image a day - exposes only one negative. Isn't this the kind of discipline we should cultivate in order to maintain photography as a craft? No longer would we have to argue that it isn't simply the one picture we've taken out of 14 billion that captured light and form perfectly. It was all the work we put into one image in one day - or three minutes for $30.
No more fucking around.
Somewhere between work ethic and the warmth of analog is a comfortable place that favors puppets over CGI and hammers over keys.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
In defense of Theory.
I've felt it myself. That straw that sucks the life out of art. The over-thinking strain of over-theory. The talking that sucks the mystery out of life. This is theory as abuse, and not as I see its intention.
The first point in the defense of theory is that the best theory writers are artists in their own craft. Reading their works should not seem overbearing and dreadful - though they may be thick. The writing of Baudelaire, Barthes, Derrida, and Foucault are the works of dreamers and thinkers - not pedants. They simultaneously muse and demystify. With one hand take what you know and with the other deliver a new way of seeing. They break your glasses and open your eyes.
This is why the reader of theory must muse with the muses. They must revolve their understandings and remain within a pleasant tumult of knowing and un-knowing. It is when we're stuck in a mode of thinking that theory blocks us from loving a work. Looking at work simply to enjoy it belongs to a way of thinking as well.
There are certain insights, however, that are difficult to unlearn. Historical fallacies, differance, etc. Just as theory is playful, it is also useful. It keeps us from making the same mistakes constantly. We can make art without thinking, art for the sake of art. But once we attempt to adhere meaning, we must be wary of the history of art, and of theory.
We can't be impressionists, symbolists, surrealists again. Theory keeps us from making the same mistakes, but you must dive into the tumult. You've gotta soak it up. Make it a part of your thinking rather than clashing with it. Know and un-know tomorrow and keep the thinking going.
Otherwise, it gets boring.
The first point in the defense of theory is that the best theory writers are artists in their own craft. Reading their works should not seem overbearing and dreadful - though they may be thick. The writing of Baudelaire, Barthes, Derrida, and Foucault are the works of dreamers and thinkers - not pedants. They simultaneously muse and demystify. With one hand take what you know and with the other deliver a new way of seeing. They break your glasses and open your eyes.
This is why the reader of theory must muse with the muses. They must revolve their understandings and remain within a pleasant tumult of knowing and un-knowing. It is when we're stuck in a mode of thinking that theory blocks us from loving a work. Looking at work simply to enjoy it belongs to a way of thinking as well.
There are certain insights, however, that are difficult to unlearn. Historical fallacies, differance, etc. Just as theory is playful, it is also useful. It keeps us from making the same mistakes constantly. We can make art without thinking, art for the sake of art. But once we attempt to adhere meaning, we must be wary of the history of art, and of theory.
We can't be impressionists, symbolists, surrealists again. Theory keeps us from making the same mistakes, but you must dive into the tumult. You've gotta soak it up. Make it a part of your thinking rather than clashing with it. Know and un-know tomorrow and keep the thinking going.
Otherwise, it gets boring.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Barthes and Mediocre Photography
So we've all been there: Floating in the endless sea of photographs that don't mean a thing to you. And they tend to fall into categories too. The photography student's pictures of their and other friends' tiny and cute feet. The looking-up-at-monolith shots: these vary considerably but usually include Baird Point or very tall building. The classic shot at arm's length back towards oneself. This is one of the worst, becoming known as the 'Myspace Shot.' There's even the classic rear-view mirror shot, a spontaneous occurance which usually springs from shooting out the window of a car and seeing one's own visage.
This is the more contemporary and banal end of Barthes' interest in the punctum and studium. Where Barthes' personal essay focused on that which mattered to him, he left the rest of the body of photography to focus on that which is important but not piercing. Along with or beside the studium lies the rest of photography's body: the cute toes and tall buildings of banality.
Most of these works are not even 'punctum' to the photographers themselves. They are simply images, bereft of care, wonder, importance, labor, etc. They pile up like wet smelly leaves. Never raked, never burned.
This is the more contemporary and banal end of Barthes' interest in the punctum and studium. Where Barthes' personal essay focused on that which mattered to him, he left the rest of the body of photography to focus on that which is important but not piercing. Along with or beside the studium lies the rest of photography's body: the cute toes and tall buildings of banality.
Most of these works are not even 'punctum' to the photographers themselves. They are simply images, bereft of care, wonder, importance, labor, etc. They pile up like wet smelly leaves. Never raked, never burned.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Light, Descartes, Cubism
Readings for this week were pretty varied, though none particularly extensive. Each operated as a kind of poke for thought, and not a deep exploration. Quick and insincere introductions to gender theory, 'gaze,' and semiotics were maybe the most memorable.
Although Descarte's essay on optics is outdated and verifiably incorrect, it does offer some interesting observations as metaphor and theory, as they pertain to the world of art in particular. This is most likely why it remains an important addendum to the canon, though its science is dead.
Let's dissect: "[engravings] represent to us forests, towns, people, and even battles and storms; and although they make us think of countless different qualities in these objects, it is only in respect of shape that there is any real resemblance. And even this resemblance is very imperfect, . . . in accordance with the rules of perspective they often represent circles by ovals better than by other circles, squares by rhombuses better than by other squares, and similarly for other shapes."
This last bit is perhaps the most interesting. Descartes is alluding to an idea which might not realize itself in the world of art for the next 300 years. Those maybe seven years when Cubism was most prevalent, these ideas of the slavery of forms in two dimensions were finally explored. Descartes was discussing the idea that a square object is better represented by a rhombus because of the rules of perspective. Those rules didn't seem to be loudly confounding artists until Braque and Picasso took up arms against them in 1907.
Some things take a while to come around, eh?
Although Descarte's essay on optics is outdated and verifiably incorrect, it does offer some interesting observations as metaphor and theory, as they pertain to the world of art in particular. This is most likely why it remains an important addendum to the canon, though its science is dead.
Let's dissect: "[engravings] represent to us forests, towns, people, and even battles and storms; and although they make us think of countless different qualities in these objects, it is only in respect of shape that there is any real resemblance. And even this resemblance is very imperfect, . . . in accordance with the rules of perspective they often represent circles by ovals better than by other circles, squares by rhombuses better than by other squares, and similarly for other shapes."
This last bit is perhaps the most interesting. Descartes is alluding to an idea which might not realize itself in the world of art for the next 300 years. Those maybe seven years when Cubism was most prevalent, these ideas of the slavery of forms in two dimensions were finally explored. Descartes was discussing the idea that a square object is better represented by a rhombus because of the rules of perspective. Those rules didn't seem to be loudly confounding artists until Braque and Picasso took up arms against them in 1907.
Some things take a while to come around, eh?
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Thinking About Photography
Thinking About Photography covers many aspects of the interpretation of photography through the years. It must first deal with the early controversies of photography as art, photography as document, and photography as communication. A few pulled quotes will bring light to these considerations.
'Sworn Witness' - 'The inevitable function of photograph [is] that it showed the world without contrivance and prejudice.'
This early view of photography was important because it was both insightful and inherently flawed. To assume that a photograph shows the world without prejudice is to remove the photographer from the equation altogether - a feat that cannot be performed. This view of photography operates like a traffic or dash-mounted police camera; operator free.
'...it voraciously records anything in view; in other words it is firmly in the realm of contingent.'
Here again is the camera as consumer. This is the property of photography that esteems it as scientific and tramples it as art. This is the reason that it has a foot in both worlds and causes infinitely vapid debate from both camps. Pictorialist, straight, and digital photography are all struggling with this property.
'Photography makes aware for the first time the optical unconscious, just as psychoanalysis discloses the instinctual unconscious.'
This begins the next phase of the discussion of photography. Once applied to psychoanalysis and the effects of modernism, photography was open to the entire critical debate. It was no longer simply a scientific physical tool. After years of hanging in galleries, photography was officially a part of the artistic canon and thus susceptible to the greatest of critical inquiry: psychoanalytic, postmodern, or otherwise.
As a mechanical implement which offered the oldest of human perception, this was ripe territory for inspection and analysis.
'Sworn Witness' - 'The inevitable function of photograph [is] that it showed the world without contrivance and prejudice.'
This early view of photography was important because it was both insightful and inherently flawed. To assume that a photograph shows the world without prejudice is to remove the photographer from the equation altogether - a feat that cannot be performed. This view of photography operates like a traffic or dash-mounted police camera; operator free.
'...it voraciously records anything in view; in other words it is firmly in the realm of contingent.'
Here again is the camera as consumer. This is the property of photography that esteems it as scientific and tramples it as art. This is the reason that it has a foot in both worlds and causes infinitely vapid debate from both camps. Pictorialist, straight, and digital photography are all struggling with this property.
'Photography makes aware for the first time the optical unconscious, just as psychoanalysis discloses the instinctual unconscious.'
This begins the next phase of the discussion of photography. Once applied to psychoanalysis and the effects of modernism, photography was open to the entire critical debate. It was no longer simply a scientific physical tool. After years of hanging in galleries, photography was officially a part of the artistic canon and thus susceptible to the greatest of critical inquiry: psychoanalytic, postmodern, or otherwise.
As a mechanical implement which offered the oldest of human perception, this was ripe territory for inspection and analysis.
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