Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Blog #3
Jesper Just, 'Bliss and Heaven'
Jesper Just presents his audience with beautiful wide shots of wheat fields, necessary close-ups and Olivia Newton John's 'Please Don't Keep Me Waiting.' Add little ambient noise and a platinum wig and you have 'Bliss and Heaven,' a short that should be confusing, but instead leaves it's viewer in a euphoric wonderment. Maybe euphoric is a bit much, but I couldn't help but leave that little space in the museum without a smile on my face, and not caring that I didn't know why I was smiling. Just's lack of sound is what makes his film. He open in a giant wheat field, and we see just one man, a younger gentleman wandering around, you'd think he is lost, but really, I think he just doesn't know what he's looking for. We just hear the necessary noises: a little wind, the truck pulling up with a 'manly' man walking out and back into the cab of his truck suspiciously.
Reading a few reviews, it seems most of the audience was expecting a thriller, but with it's soft ambient noises and clear blue sky day, it is more mystery. When the young man goes into the truck, is when the sound and visuals really work against each other, in a good way. We see a theater, and then the truck driver dressed in a white women's blouse, a flowing scarf, a platinum wig, but his jeans and work boots are curiously left on. All this is in silence, except the loud (and by loud, I mean obvious) but silent confusement that the young man has.
Then we hear a music beat, we, along with the young man, aren't scared by the noise, just intrigued, and soon enough, the truck driver sings. Though slightly monotone, there is still emotion in his voice, and again, we are left wondering why he is singing, who he's singing to. Though the music slightly builds up, it is mixed with once again, these wide shots of both men in the theater, we see the flowing scarf in the fake wind, close-ups are shown of each man's emotion in their face, then something happens, and the music doesn't blur, but it feels like it as the man stops singing and the shots become blurred themselves, he seems stricken, falling to the floor, a look of something, but what, on his face.
It is heartbreaking yet beautiful, and again, like every other shot, questions are coming into mind. Did he see the young man? Is that why he's stopped? He's embarrassed? Is the young man who he was waiting for? Is the young man the answer to his singing 'Please Don't Keep Me Waiting?' We never know as the curtain draws and the young man sits in silence, a mysterious grin, then stands up and applauds. I mentioned earlier that the visuals and sound were against each other, but that is what makes the film work. We are shown a hefty, sweaty man, and then we hear some catchy love song. Then we are shown these beautiful wide shots of the theater and a scarf flowing, but we hear this low deaf tone voice singing. The reason I loved this piece was because it all seemed like it should be confusing, but it wasn't. Just allowed the visuals to speak, and then the audio when it was its turn. You left with all these questions, but yet the piece was satisfying because they weren't questions about frustration, more about interest and maybe even being nosey.
Salla Tykka, Cave Trilogy
In Salla Tykka's Cave Trilogy, I feel she uses sound the same way Just did in 'Bliss and Heaven,' in that there was a lack of sound that juxtaposed with the visuals. Like Just, there is no dialogue in any of the three shorts within Cave, but simply a few ambient noises and then a dramatic score. In Lasso, a woman goes to the back of a house and seems to be watching, unnoticed, a man practicing a lasso routine to none other than to a song called 'Lasso.' The music is slow and dramatic, just simply musical notes, and the man's routine is in slow motion, and she watches quietly, with interest, but not revealing too much. As the music builds, the motion is still slow, but the camera moves when the gentleman moves. In 'Thriller,' music is used a little differently in that it creates suspense rather than this almost old epic feeling that 'Lasso' had. She matches the little twitches in the music in conjunction with the little twitches the actors have in their performances like when the man goes to the door and the girl glares in his direction. The only problem I had with her use of 'Thriller' was that the music was so recognizable that it distracted from the film. In the second half the music is not as recognized and flowed well with the visuals, but the Michael Myers music is so well known as the Halloween theme that it owned the visuals instead of complimenting them. The slower part of the Halloween theme again, isn't as recognizable or prominent in itself that it complimented the scene better, the little girl running through the tall trees, the cold air showing on her breath. In the final film, 'Cave,' the visuals owned the music in this case. If you asked me what the music was like, I'd have to look at my notes. But that doesn't take away from the film as it was shot in a coherent and visual pleasing way. This woman who looks like she is about to be devoured from this big black cave instead becomes like a part of it, putting her hands in the water, watching the drillers in a almost despising way.
Tykka is definitely a good storyteller in that I enjoyed the three shorts (not that if I don't enjoy it it isn't good) and wasn't left confused or unfulfilled, but the music and sounds choices were either a hit or miss. In Lasso, the dramatic music went well with the slow and just as well dramatic action, but in Thriller, the music was too distracting since it was so recognizable and took away from the visuals which were excellent in themselves, and in the case of 'Cave,' the sounds didn't have much of an impression at all, but like with Thriller, Tykka was lucky that the visuals were interesting and fulfilling on their own.
Review of:
David Banash, A Natural History of Consumption: The Shopping Carts of Julian Montague.
Earlier in the semester when I was looking for a journal to review, the link to Julian Montague shopping cart guide was the closing deal, so I figure, why not read what this journal had to say about his project? Most of the articles in the journal seem to be very critical and use psychological spins so lots of googling on names and words were done on my part, but David Banash's review of The Stray Shopping Carts of North America was very straight forward and not hidden behind big words and 'look what I know' anecdotes. He starts with what I thought of too when I first visited Montague's site, that this wasn't just a one dimensional spoof on scientific studies, nor was it a too-deep-for-its-own-good look at America materialism, but rather an investigation and commentary on consumerism and a 'sense of play' as Banash simply puts.
The way Banash even summarizes Montague's classification system and book is simple and playful, you can tell Banash is not judging Montague's work but is rather intrigued and entertained. Montague's website and book (though I haven't seen the whole thing, excerpts are available and are pretty much like the website) has little explanation, but just enough that you understand his intentions and realize it is more than just a fun little project.
Banash writes, 'The images of carts abandoned, decaying or used for various purposes invoke with quiet insistence the decidedly absent and ghostly people who use them.' Though it sounds a little overdramatic, especially how he writes after that about homeless and those without access to cars stealing these cars for basically support, he summarizes Montagues simplicity of having the images speak for themselves. The carts are pictured as they were found, so it causes the viewer to create it's own backstory, because no one really knows how that cart got there.
Though Banash doesn't seem to judge Montague's intentions, he does judge the photographs. He again writes about how these shopping carts seem to only benefit, if you will, the poor and homeless. Apparently only poor or homeless people use mass transit.
But by the end of the review, I am friendly with Banash again as he wraps up his own interpretation of the study saying the carts are 'as though they moved through the world singly or in herds as natural and living creatures' and it 'produces a powerful estranging effect, and it dramatizes our own status as the objects of the vast and inhuman machinations of commodity culture.' Ironic that he uses 'dramatizes' in a close to overdramatic observation, but I couldn't have concluded Montague's work so clearly myself.
Jesper Just presents his audience with beautiful wide shots of wheat fields, necessary close-ups and Olivia Newton John's 'Please Don't Keep Me Waiting.' Add little ambient noise and a platinum wig and you have 'Bliss and Heaven,' a short that should be confusing, but instead leaves it's viewer in a euphoric wonderment. Maybe euphoric is a bit much, but I couldn't help but leave that little space in the museum without a smile on my face, and not caring that I didn't know why I was smiling. Just's lack of sound is what makes his film. He open in a giant wheat field, and we see just one man, a younger gentleman wandering around, you'd think he is lost, but really, I think he just doesn't know what he's looking for. We just hear the necessary noises: a little wind, the truck pulling up with a 'manly' man walking out and back into the cab of his truck suspiciously. Reading a few reviews, it seems most of the audience was expecting a thriller, but with it's soft ambient noises and clear blue sky day, it is more mystery. When the young man goes into the truck, is when the sound and visuals really work against each other, in a good way. We see a theater, and then the truck driver dressed in a white women's blouse, a flowing scarf, a platinum wig, but his jeans and work boots are curiously left on. All this is in silence, except the loud (and by loud, I mean obvious) but silent confusement that the young man has.
Then we hear a music beat, we, along with the young man, aren't scared by the noise, just intrigued, and soon enough, the truck driver sings. Though slightly monotone, there is still emotion in his voice, and again, we are left wondering why he is singing, who he's singing to. Though the music slightly builds up, it is mixed with once again, these wide shots of both men in the theater, we see the flowing scarf in the fake wind, close-ups are shown of each man's emotion in their face, then something happens, and the music doesn't blur, but it feels like it as the man stops singing and the shots become blurred themselves, he seems stricken, falling to the floor, a look of something, but what, on his face.
It is heartbreaking yet beautiful, and again, like every other shot, questions are coming into mind. Did he see the young man? Is that why he's stopped? He's embarrassed? Is the young man who he was waiting for? Is the young man the answer to his singing 'Please Don't Keep Me Waiting?' We never know as the curtain draws and the young man sits in silence, a mysterious grin, then stands up and applauds. I mentioned earlier that the visuals and sound were against each other, but that is what makes the film work. We are shown a hefty, sweaty man, and then we hear some catchy love song. Then we are shown these beautiful wide shots of the theater and a scarf flowing, but we hear this low deaf tone voice singing. The reason I loved this piece was because it all seemed like it should be confusing, but it wasn't. Just allowed the visuals to speak, and then the audio when it was its turn. You left with all these questions, but yet the piece was satisfying because they weren't questions about frustration, more about interest and maybe even being nosey.Salla Tykka, Cave Trilogy
In Salla Tykka's Cave Trilogy, I feel she uses sound the same way Just did in 'Bliss and Heaven,' in that there was a lack of sound that juxtaposed with the visuals. Like Just, there is no dialogue in any of the three shorts within Cave, but simply a few ambient noises and then a dramatic score. In Lasso, a woman goes to the back of a house and seems to be watching, unnoticed, a man practicing a lasso routine to none other than to a song called 'Lasso.' The music is slow and dramatic, just simply musical notes, and the man's routine is in slow motion, and she watches quietly, with interest, but not revealing too much. As the music builds, the motion is still slow, but the camera moves when the gentleman moves. In 'Thriller,' music is used a little differently in that it creates suspense rather than this almost old epic feeling that 'Lasso' had. She matches the little twitches in the music in conjunction with the little twitches the actors have in their performances like when the man goes to the door and the girl glares in his direction. The only problem I had with her use of 'Thriller' was that the music was so recognizable that it distracted from the film. In the second half the music is not as recognized and flowed well with the visuals, but the Michael Myers music is so well known as the Halloween theme that it owned the visuals instead of complimenting them. The slower part of the Halloween theme again, isn't as recognizable or prominent in itself that it complimented the scene better, the little girl running through the tall trees, the cold air showing on her breath. In the final film, 'Cave,' the visuals owned the music in this case. If you asked me what the music was like, I'd have to look at my notes. But that doesn't take away from the film as it was shot in a coherent and visual pleasing way. This woman who looks like she is about to be devoured from this big black cave instead becomes like a part of it, putting her hands in the water, watching the drillers in a almost despising way.
Tykka is definitely a good storyteller in that I enjoyed the three shorts (not that if I don't enjoy it it isn't good) and wasn't left confused or unfulfilled, but the music and sounds choices were either a hit or miss. In Lasso, the dramatic music went well with the slow and just as well dramatic action, but in Thriller, the music was too distracting since it was so recognizable and took away from the visuals which were excellent in themselves, and in the case of 'Cave,' the sounds didn't have much of an impression at all, but like with Thriller, Tykka was lucky that the visuals were interesting and fulfilling on their own.
Review of:
David Banash, A Natural History of Consumption: The Shopping Carts of Julian Montague.
Earlier in the semester when I was looking for a journal to review, the link to Julian Montague shopping cart guide was the closing deal, so I figure, why not read what this journal had to say about his project? Most of the articles in the journal seem to be very critical and use psychological spins so lots of googling on names and words were done on my part, but David Banash's review of The Stray Shopping Carts of North America was very straight forward and not hidden behind big words and 'look what I know' anecdotes. He starts with what I thought of too when I first visited Montague's site, that this wasn't just a one dimensional spoof on scientific studies, nor was it a too-deep-for-its-own-good look at America materialism, but rather an investigation and commentary on consumerism and a 'sense of play' as Banash simply puts.
The way Banash even summarizes Montague's classification system and book is simple and playful, you can tell Banash is not judging Montague's work but is rather intrigued and entertained. Montague's website and book (though I haven't seen the whole thing, excerpts are available and are pretty much like the website) has little explanation, but just enough that you understand his intentions and realize it is more than just a fun little project.
Banash writes, 'The images of carts abandoned, decaying or used for various purposes invoke with quiet insistence the decidedly absent and ghostly people who use them.' Though it sounds a little overdramatic, especially how he writes after that about homeless and those without access to cars stealing these cars for basically support, he summarizes Montagues simplicity of having the images speak for themselves. The carts are pictured as they were found, so it causes the viewer to create it's own backstory, because no one really knows how that cart got there.
Though Banash doesn't seem to judge Montague's intentions, he does judge the photographs. He again writes about how these shopping carts seem to only benefit, if you will, the poor and homeless. Apparently only poor or homeless people use mass transit.
But by the end of the review, I am friendly with Banash again as he wraps up his own interpretation of the study saying the carts are 'as though they moved through the world singly or in herds as natural and living creatures' and it 'produces a powerful estranging effect, and it dramatizes our own status as the objects of the vast and inhuman machinations of commodity culture.' Ironic that he uses 'dramatizes' in a close to overdramatic observation, but I couldn't have concluded Montague's work so clearly myself.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Paper #2
Janet Cardiff’s To Touch piece at the Milwaukee Art Museum really surprised me in the sense of what it evoked in me emotionally and physically. As a whole, the piece felt very voyeuristic. So many aspects of the piece contributed to this feeling, and it seems I’m not the only one to feel this way. In an interview with Janet Cardiff, Atom Egoyan says "Your characters occupy our physical space. The degree of interaction is profoundly respectful, yet extremely invasive" when talking about Cardiff's piece "Whispering Room." But I found it the opposite with To Touch. I felt like I was the visitor, invading these voices' space.
The obvious, and for good reason, aspect of the piece that I remember well and brought something mysterious to the table (pun intended) was the man and woman voice telling their story of (what sounds like) infidelity. The volume of their voices are soft, but above a whisper, it entices the viewer to listen in, trying to drown out all the other noises that might be playing. It plays with the idea of gossip: hearing a story about an affair is juicy, people want to hear more, rather than just hearing about a baseball game or what happened at the office. And that's exactly what happened to me. There was something mysteriously erotic, because these people didn't know we could hear them (well, theoretically) describing these sexually charged but tamed images like 'the way you touched my wrist' and so on.
At first I was going to discuss another sound that added to this realistic voyeurism, but after starting to write about it I realized that it was the room itself that created a sense of escape for me rather than the sounds. The sounds set up the story and gave me ideas, but if the table and sounds were set up anywhere else, I don’t think it would have had the same effect. The table was placed in a dark room and the noises came from all over. But the fact that it was a dark, empty room without décor, or even speakers to see, made the viewer listen more, and better; it was easier to escape into the sounds. Instead of concentrating on what I was seeing, I was able to concentrate more on the sounds, and thus, I was able to create an image in my head without the distractions of visuals already made for me. It made me feel like a voyeuristic as if I was sitting in my room, heard the neighbors talking, and turned off the lights because I didn’t want anyone to see me.
Cardiff was quoted "We create a reality within a piece" when speaking about hers and her partner George Bures Miller's installations. And rightly so. The way the sounds and the exhibit are presented together create this new reality, and more specifically with the piece, 'To Touch,' voyeurism. You enter a dark room, already you feel like you're hiding, and then sounds are produced and it is almost as if you are trying to see through the dark but really are just imagining what the voices are saying, and in the case of my example, an affair.
The obvious, and for good reason, aspect of the piece that I remember well and brought something mysterious to the table (pun intended) was the man and woman voice telling their story of (what sounds like) infidelity. The volume of their voices are soft, but above a whisper, it entices the viewer to listen in, trying to drown out all the other noises that might be playing. It plays with the idea of gossip: hearing a story about an affair is juicy, people want to hear more, rather than just hearing about a baseball game or what happened at the office. And that's exactly what happened to me. There was something mysteriously erotic, because these people didn't know we could hear them (well, theoretically) describing these sexually charged but tamed images like 'the way you touched my wrist' and so on.
At first I was going to discuss another sound that added to this realistic voyeurism, but after starting to write about it I realized that it was the room itself that created a sense of escape for me rather than the sounds. The sounds set up the story and gave me ideas, but if the table and sounds were set up anywhere else, I don’t think it would have had the same effect. The table was placed in a dark room and the noises came from all over. But the fact that it was a dark, empty room without décor, or even speakers to see, made the viewer listen more, and better; it was easier to escape into the sounds. Instead of concentrating on what I was seeing, I was able to concentrate more on the sounds, and thus, I was able to create an image in my head without the distractions of visuals already made for me. It made me feel like a voyeuristic as if I was sitting in my room, heard the neighbors talking, and turned off the lights because I didn’t want anyone to see me.
Cardiff was quoted "We create a reality within a piece" when speaking about hers and her partner George Bures Miller's installations. And rightly so. The way the sounds and the exhibit are presented together create this new reality, and more specifically with the piece, 'To Touch,' voyeurism. You enter a dark room, already you feel like you're hiding, and then sounds are produced and it is almost as if you are trying to see through the dark but really are just imagining what the voices are saying, and in the case of my example, an affair.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Carolee Schneeman
When she was first introduced to me earlier in class, I imagined she would be the type of female filmmaker that I would look up to, maybe even idolize. She seemed like a feminist that didn't hate men but rather wanted to stand up for woman, show the world what we can do, not to be compared to men, but rather stand out as an individual. Then I started reading interviews and articles.
I respect her for being very open, and she without a doubt cut boundaries, having her films be events, even though in the end, everyone seemed to cut her down and saying her work was 'unacceptable' and felt it didn't help push the feminist statement, but rather go back. And I have to agree. In B. Ruby Rich's article she said that Carolee was 'rejected by a philistine public,' while I think, she was the philistine artist, to a point of course.
I definitely don't think Fuses was pornographic by any means, and she didn't objective herself compared to other sexual films, porn or not, made during that time, but she did glamorize the penis in my mind. She's on screen showing herself pleasuring her boyfriend, and rarely is it shown being recipricated or mutual. Personally, I do not understand why many people, not just feminists, find it degrading for a woman to give filacio, that wasn't the problem for me, I feel a woman is more in control than degraded when in that position. But what was the problem, was again, how she glamorized the penis. Throughout the film she had closeups of Tenney's genitals in good angles, colored perfectly pink, multiple times. Whenever there were wide shots of them on the bed he was always on top which shows him in control. I don't want to just summarize the film, but I did want to show examples of how I don't think she is much of a 'feminist' when it comes to sex.
And as I mentioned earlier, I believe she is much more of a philistine than some of her viewers. Much of what I saw on screen and read about seemed forced, borderline trying to hard to be 'artistic' and 'avant garde.' I am not one for meaning, I hate disecting art and put meaning into it when it shouldn't, but for someone like Schneeman, who includes such purposeful imagery and language, how can we not look at it without figuring out WHY she put it there.
I feel like stopping here because otherwise it is just me complaining about her contratictory motives, but I basically just wanted to express my opinions as someone who is sexually open as Schneeman herself, and although I do not find her work degrading or even anti-feminist, I do feel like her work does not coincides with her supposed intentions.
I respect her for being very open, and she without a doubt cut boundaries, having her films be events, even though in the end, everyone seemed to cut her down and saying her work was 'unacceptable' and felt it didn't help push the feminist statement, but rather go back. And I have to agree. In B. Ruby Rich's article she said that Carolee was 'rejected by a philistine public,' while I think, she was the philistine artist, to a point of course.
I definitely don't think Fuses was pornographic by any means, and she didn't objective herself compared to other sexual films, porn or not, made during that time, but she did glamorize the penis in my mind. She's on screen showing herself pleasuring her boyfriend, and rarely is it shown being recipricated or mutual. Personally, I do not understand why many people, not just feminists, find it degrading for a woman to give filacio, that wasn't the problem for me, I feel a woman is more in control than degraded when in that position. But what was the problem, was again, how she glamorized the penis. Throughout the film she had closeups of Tenney's genitals in good angles, colored perfectly pink, multiple times. Whenever there were wide shots of them on the bed he was always on top which shows him in control. I don't want to just summarize the film, but I did want to show examples of how I don't think she is much of a 'feminist' when it comes to sex.
And as I mentioned earlier, I believe she is much more of a philistine than some of her viewers. Much of what I saw on screen and read about seemed forced, borderline trying to hard to be 'artistic' and 'avant garde.' I am not one for meaning, I hate disecting art and put meaning into it when it shouldn't, but for someone like Schneeman, who includes such purposeful imagery and language, how can we not look at it without figuring out WHY she put it there.
I feel like stopping here because otherwise it is just me complaining about her contratictory motives, but I basically just wanted to express my opinions as someone who is sexually open as Schneeman herself, and although I do not find her work degrading or even anti-feminist, I do feel like her work does not coincides with her supposed intentions.
I guess I'm going to sell it?
This isn't the most thought provoking video, but in our discussion class, youtube videos were mentioned and I thought I had never really seen anything remixed like the clip from To Kill a Mockingbird, but then I remembered seeing this a long time ago:
It isn't edited exactly in the way of Passage a l'Acte, but I think it still follows the idea of exaggerating certain words and actions, emphasizing the ridiculous, though most of it already it, and definitely making it more funny, which I'm sure was the intent, so they succeeded.
It isn't edited exactly in the way of Passage a l'Acte, but I think it still follows the idea of exaggerating certain words and actions, emphasizing the ridiculous, though most of it already it, and definitely making it more funny, which I'm sure was the intent, so they succeeded.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Art Journal
I have to admit that what intrigued me about this art journal at first was a link to a man who did a sort of study about shopping carts (http://www.strayshoppingcart.com/shopping_cart/1_introduction.htm). He took pictures of shopping carts in various ‘environments’ and had people send him pictures, he classified them into categories: what type of shopping cart they were (by where and how they were found, not by what they were made of or what store they were from), how they were used (one was used as a fence for a small front porch garden) and so on. And after looking more thoroughly through the journal, I realized that was one of the very few ‘quirky’ articles. Though I do not regret my choice of the journal based on that and just a couple other reviews, I feel this journal is too smart for me, or, more smarter. This seems to cover a lot of aspects from the art world, from digital personalities (that I will discuss shortly) to comparing dance with the theories of Nietzsche and Freud. Basically all the articles I read through had some sort of psychological spin on it, which I appreciated, and it made sense, but I did a lot of copying and pasting into Google search while reading those articles. The first article I wanted to discuss was Technics of the Subject: The Avatar-Drive by Emily Apter. I probably related to this article more which is why I chose it, because I am on the net all the time and use avatars without even realizing it. Avatars have become such a broad but also specific representation on the internet. The obvious, as she discusses in her article is that of the Sims and Second Life. Players can create their own representation of themselves, whether it is a character that looks exactly like them, or the total opposite. Someone who is socially inept or doesn’t like the way they look can live through these characters, having self confidence and so on via their avatar. But I think it goes beyond the obvious. I think of blogging websites when people have ‘profile pictures’ which essentially represent who they are to their readers. I frequent a livejournal community about celebrity gossip all the time and every now and a ‘member’ of that community will refer to another member by their user picture or if someone changes their user picture, it throws people off who have become accustomed to ‘seeing’ that member a certain way. There is also facebook and myspace where again, people can have profile pictures, so when you log in, that one picture will represent them. Some people put up pictures of themselves, while others will put up a painting, or celebrity figure. Do they then live vicariously through those pictures? Apter, like every other author in the journal, goes into a deeper translation of the avatar; she discusses the history of the actual word avatar, essentially meaning ‘down he goes,’ which of course is interesting because you always hear these crazy stories whether it be Law & Order or The Maury Povich Show where wives lose their husbands to online games and vice versa or kids who don’t like reality, basically, get lost in this fake world because they are loved there. But is that really us to judge? I say yes, because this is life, not that, but it can easily be argued. She then discusses Freud, though he died long before these modern day avatars, because of his studies of the id and ego and superego. She compares his studies to the avatar in the similar fashion of the ‘down he goes’ translation, people get lost in these avatars sometimes, developing ‘egoic defenses’ and the ‘inhibition of destructive.’
Then comes Stephanie Hart’s piece, Ways of See(th)ing: A Record of Visual Punk Practice where I think she feels she needs to put a psychological spin on the punk world. She reviews Panic Attack! Art in the Punk Years in a way that it incorporates a history of the dissection of punk, reading into the artists and the art work that came from them during the height of punk. I’ve never disliked Punk music, but I’ve never been a fan. I’ve been introduced to the basics like God Save the Queen and Sid and Nancy’s story courtesy of Gary Oldman, but I never delved into it and felt the angst of punk times. To be honest I’m not sure why I wanted to discuss this article, at least according to the guidelines of the paper, but I think I more wanted to review her review because in our class, we definitely analyze the films and read into it what we will, but as in my previous field report, I think we don’t really know what a piece of art really means unless the artist tells us. Turns out Killer of Sheep didn’t have a lot a inner meaning, people just read into what they would, and Stephanie Hart seems to take others’ thoughts and opinions to show her own when talking about why punk music was the way it was and why they were singing this or taking pictures of that, when maybe, they just really liked to dress that way or sing those words.
Then comes Stephanie Hart’s piece, Ways of See(th)ing: A Record of Visual Punk Practice where I think she feels she needs to put a psychological spin on the punk world. She reviews Panic Attack! Art in the Punk Years in a way that it incorporates a history of the dissection of punk, reading into the artists and the art work that came from them during the height of punk. I’ve never disliked Punk music, but I’ve never been a fan. I’ve been introduced to the basics like God Save the Queen and Sid and Nancy’s story courtesy of Gary Oldman, but I never delved into it and felt the angst of punk times. To be honest I’m not sure why I wanted to discuss this article, at least according to the guidelines of the paper, but I think I more wanted to review her review because in our class, we definitely analyze the films and read into it what we will, but as in my previous field report, I think we don’t really know what a piece of art really means unless the artist tells us. Turns out Killer of Sheep didn’t have a lot a inner meaning, people just read into what they would, and Stephanie Hart seems to take others’ thoughts and opinions to show her own when talking about why punk music was the way it was and why they were singing this or taking pictures of that, when maybe, they just really liked to dress that way or sing those words.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Act/React
I can’t help but go Hollywood right away and mention Robin William’s little speech in Good Will Hunting where his character tells Will he may know what the Sistine Chapel looks like, but can’t go beyond that and so on because he never experienced it. I thought of that quote as I was going through the exhibit at the Art Museum because I had read and heard so much beforehand that I thought I knew the exhibit already, I didn’t have to go see it to write the paper, why waste my time? But I was wrong. Because after visiting, I looked at the pieces differently, I could describe them differently than if I hadn’t visited, it made me appreciate them more. I believe all art is interactive; a sculpture could evoke an emotion or memory, an abstract painting could be like looking at the clouds when you were a kid, it doesn’t necessarily have an obvious picture, but you do see something in it. But this exhibit went beyond that with me. It was like a game, an interactive game using all the senses, or at least most of them.
In John McKinnon’s lecture he mentioned quite a few interactive installations like the Infinity Room, which now after visiting Act/React I guess I shouldn’t assume, but doesn’t seem that interactive, but rather a piece you can be in, but I don’t believe you can manipulate it. It may affect you emotionally, but there isn’t much you can do physically to it or it to you. And as for the Lumiere Brothers’ famous ‘Arrival of a Train,’ it definitely affected audiences (supposedly) in a way that they actually thought a train was coming and ran out of the theatre, but they can go back in, and the theatre and the film are exactly the same, just looked at differently. I mention these to, again, argue that the Act/React exhibit is a new kind of interactive. The viewer can become an artist through these pieces.
The first piece I enjoyed was Healing #1 by Brian Knep. I was able to experience it alone and with a group of people. While alone it was like a puzzle, I figured out it followed my movement, my shadow rather than where I stepped, which intrigued me. I then tested it, if you will, and spun around with my purse low to the ground, the cells disappeared, I shuffled, which made the ‘wound’ wider, I then tried, what I’m sure everyone tried, to delete all the cells. At this point a group of grade school students came by and watched me. Not even a second later one of the kids said, ‘Let’s help her get rid of it!’ I know it was obvious what I was doing, but it just amazed me that these kids knew exactly what I was doing and wanted to ‘help.’ Of course they’re kids though and quickly got distracted themselves, making different shapes, having their own objectives.
What was, surprisingly, my favorite piece was Janet Cardiff’s, To Touch. Beforehand I thought it was just a table that you touched and it evoked different sounds to come out of the speakers. And essentially it was, but it was also a lot of fun. I was lucky enough to be in the dark room by myself and right away felt like a conductor or Bugs Bunny in ‘Baton Bunny.’ I’d touch slowly and softly at different areas of the table, one voice or noise going off at a time, maybe two overlapping quietly. Then I’d add a few more noises, let them run, it then gets quiet, maybe touch another area of the table, see what plays, add another, and another, then just run my hands all over the table faster and faster, having each and every speaker play, becoming chaos. At one point one of the security guards came in, and I’m sure I looked like a mad woman practically rubbing my whole body on this table with this wicked smile on my face looking up at him like, ‘Look! Look at what I’m creating!!!’ That definitely brought me back down to reality and I let it become quiet again. Well, after a few more minutes of playing with it.
I still remember visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art for the first time and my sister was getting frustrated because I wasn’t ‘feeling’ the art in the abstract area. I then saw a piece from Joan Mitchell (still one of my favorite pieces), that was just globs of paint creating a 3D look with shadows and shapes. I had my face about two inches from the painting, my sister comes up to me, and I say, ‘I just want to feel it!’ and she looks at me with the most astonished look, and I reply, ‘Well, I’m not really going to, an alarm might go off!’ and she laughed thinking I metaphorically wanted to feel it. I mention that because I believe you can’t just ‘feel’ or appreciate art just by looking. Sure, I can see the Venus Di Milo in an art book, but how big is she? what does her ass look like (ps. If you Google ‘Venus Di Milo, ass,’ one example does show up)? I wouldn’t know unless I go and see her, walk around, smell her even. I appreciate things more when I am able to interact. And these pieces at the Act/React show are the epitome of interaction. You manipulate the pieces, and essentially, create your own art within it, just like I did with my little ‘symphony’ at To Touch or the tunnels and new cells I left behind at Healing #1. John McKinnon gave us a quick rundown of ‘interactive’ art, whether it is a sculpture that moves or a movie that makes crowds run, and although I don’t go against my first argument that all art is interactive, this exhibit was a new level of interactive.
In John McKinnon’s lecture he mentioned quite a few interactive installations like the Infinity Room, which now after visiting Act/React I guess I shouldn’t assume, but doesn’t seem that interactive, but rather a piece you can be in, but I don’t believe you can manipulate it. It may affect you emotionally, but there isn’t much you can do physically to it or it to you. And as for the Lumiere Brothers’ famous ‘Arrival of a Train,’ it definitely affected audiences (supposedly) in a way that they actually thought a train was coming and ran out of the theatre, but they can go back in, and the theatre and the film are exactly the same, just looked at differently. I mention these to, again, argue that the Act/React exhibit is a new kind of interactive. The viewer can become an artist through these pieces.
The first piece I enjoyed was Healing #1 by Brian Knep. I was able to experience it alone and with a group of people. While alone it was like a puzzle, I figured out it followed my movement, my shadow rather than where I stepped, which intrigued me. I then tested it, if you will, and spun around with my purse low to the ground, the cells disappeared, I shuffled, which made the ‘wound’ wider, I then tried, what I’m sure everyone tried, to delete all the cells. At this point a group of grade school students came by and watched me. Not even a second later one of the kids said, ‘Let’s help her get rid of it!’ I know it was obvious what I was doing, but it just amazed me that these kids knew exactly what I was doing and wanted to ‘help.’ Of course they’re kids though and quickly got distracted themselves, making different shapes, having their own objectives.
What was, surprisingly, my favorite piece was Janet Cardiff’s, To Touch. Beforehand I thought it was just a table that you touched and it evoked different sounds to come out of the speakers. And essentially it was, but it was also a lot of fun. I was lucky enough to be in the dark room by myself and right away felt like a conductor or Bugs Bunny in ‘Baton Bunny.’ I’d touch slowly and softly at different areas of the table, one voice or noise going off at a time, maybe two overlapping quietly. Then I’d add a few more noises, let them run, it then gets quiet, maybe touch another area of the table, see what plays, add another, and another, then just run my hands all over the table faster and faster, having each and every speaker play, becoming chaos. At one point one of the security guards came in, and I’m sure I looked like a mad woman practically rubbing my whole body on this table with this wicked smile on my face looking up at him like, ‘Look! Look at what I’m creating!!!’ That definitely brought me back down to reality and I let it become quiet again. Well, after a few more minutes of playing with it.
I still remember visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art for the first time and my sister was getting frustrated because I wasn’t ‘feeling’ the art in the abstract area. I then saw a piece from Joan Mitchell (still one of my favorite pieces), that was just globs of paint creating a 3D look with shadows and shapes. I had my face about two inches from the painting, my sister comes up to me, and I say, ‘I just want to feel it!’ and she looks at me with the most astonished look, and I reply, ‘Well, I’m not really going to, an alarm might go off!’ and she laughed thinking I metaphorically wanted to feel it. I mention that because I believe you can’t just ‘feel’ or appreciate art just by looking. Sure, I can see the Venus Di Milo in an art book, but how big is she? what does her ass look like (ps. If you Google ‘Venus Di Milo, ass,’ one example does show up)? I wouldn’t know unless I go and see her, walk around, smell her even. I appreciate things more when I am able to interact. And these pieces at the Act/React show are the epitome of interaction. You manipulate the pieces, and essentially, create your own art within it, just like I did with my little ‘symphony’ at To Touch or the tunnels and new cells I left behind at Healing #1. John McKinnon gave us a quick rundown of ‘interactive’ art, whether it is a sculpture that moves or a movie that makes crowds run, and although I don’t go against my first argument that all art is interactive, this exhibit was a new level of interactive.
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