follow the body. trust in the body.
let, let leave. laisser.
and I know it well.
hidden, all this is hidden.
and we were falling, too.
why am I so afraid to tell the stories for why these are important? maybe it's not about my stories. maybe I want you to connect them to your stories. because these aren't just about one story, they're about many stories. (they're so personal--and I'm not saying why, not giving specifics--and so they are universal). or something. I honestly don't know. I don't know what you are supposed to get out of them. I know they're important because they are where the weight lies.
bowing red blood onto a wall, a chicken with a head. without a head. she wasn't telling stories, either. a mark, a silhouette. traces left.
these are the traces I hold onto. how to make them speak?
Saturday, November 28, 2009
oh yeah.
Oh yeah. blogging.
This is what I've been up to:
And this:
And this:
I took so much footage during and right after break, that I've just been hard at work on all of it as well as several paintings.
With videos, I have been grouping images into shots, then making those into small clips, and editing the clips together. Sound comes a little later, once I've seen the footage, but it takes a long time to work the two out together, and see where they go with each other. With some, like my first lung video, almost all of the footage goes in. With these two, perhaps between 30 and 50 percent went in. I had to re-record sound perhaps 12 times. It doesn't mean I won't use the rest of the images or sound, just not for these two videos.
As for sound, I realize that it's all voice over/whispers so far. I've been playing around with local sounds (wind, water, children playing from far away), but that's not quite right for these. I am getting a little concerned about not knowing how to make something different. While none of these are really the same--each is pushing in a different direction--they're certainly in a family of sorts. They're not sniffing slurping slugs. Yet, I need to remember what Sue told me last year--It would be nice to see you stick with something for a while. I have apparently found something I can stick with better, so that is not a bad thing, just something I'm not very familiar with.
I am afraid that with the whispers I am being too explicit, illustrating ideas and not inviting them. I heard in the last crit that what I said was definitely not too specific, but that was that and these are these. I am also unsure as to what to do for the show (this coming week). Do I re-record in French? Most of the audience will be French. I doubt my ability to whisper clearly in French. I can hardly speak clearly, so whispering might be impossible to understand. I at least intend to have a translation of the words to read. It's not the same, but having everything mispronounced and incomprehensible wouldn't be the same either.
Now I'm currently working on a travel video which has shots from trains/buses/airports, as well as another with footage from the river and woods here. And then there are two paintings to be finished this week in time to dry to be shipped home...
back to work.
This is what I've been up to:
And this:
follow // fallow from Bonnie Veblen on Vimeo.
And this:
await another voice from Bonnie Veblen on Vimeo.
I took so much footage during and right after break, that I've just been hard at work on all of it as well as several paintings.
With videos, I have been grouping images into shots, then making those into small clips, and editing the clips together. Sound comes a little later, once I've seen the footage, but it takes a long time to work the two out together, and see where they go with each other. With some, like my first lung video, almost all of the footage goes in. With these two, perhaps between 30 and 50 percent went in. I had to re-record sound perhaps 12 times. It doesn't mean I won't use the rest of the images or sound, just not for these two videos.
As for sound, I realize that it's all voice over/whispers so far. I've been playing around with local sounds (wind, water, children playing from far away), but that's not quite right for these. I am getting a little concerned about not knowing how to make something different. While none of these are really the same--each is pushing in a different direction--they're certainly in a family of sorts. They're not sniffing slurping slugs. Yet, I need to remember what Sue told me last year--It would be nice to see you stick with something for a while. I have apparently found something I can stick with better, so that is not a bad thing, just something I'm not very familiar with.
I am afraid that with the whispers I am being too explicit, illustrating ideas and not inviting them. I heard in the last crit that what I said was definitely not too specific, but that was that and these are these. I am also unsure as to what to do for the show (this coming week). Do I re-record in French? Most of the audience will be French. I doubt my ability to whisper clearly in French. I can hardly speak clearly, so whispering might be impossible to understand. I at least intend to have a translation of the words to read. It's not the same, but having everything mispronounced and incomprehensible wouldn't be the same either.
Now I'm currently working on a travel video which has shots from trains/buses/airports, as well as another with footage from the river and woods here. And then there are two paintings to be finished this week in time to dry to be shipped home...
back to work.
Monday, November 16, 2009
final project proposal
I have been continuing to take series of photographs of landscapes as well as my lung x-ray, which I intend to make into videos similar to the way in which I made my previous video honestly don’t know. They will be three separate works, between 2 and 4 minutes long. The subject of the first is my lung x-ray which I have been carrying with me the last few weeks and photographing it while holding it in front of the sun in different landscapes. In this video, I intend to make repetitive sequences of the light moving through my air-tract and heart. For the sound, I will use a more lengthy cut-up of writings that speaks about the relation of body to earth and will record my own voice speaking for this.
For the second video, I took many sequences of images as I traveled between countries over the break, and intend to work with these to create a video concerning stability and disorientation in moving through landscapes. This is related to the last video I am working on in which I have been returning to one spot in the woods for the last several weeks and taking series of photos as the woods have changed in color and quality of light with fall coming on here. In this video, I would like to cut between views of the same spot with and without leaves, showing the same place in different times, and showing the repetitive engagement with a single place I have had. For the sound, I will make voice recordings of thoughts I have been writing the last few weeks, concerning stillness and movement through time and life. For example, “where did we come from? where are we going?” I am also working on paintings of the trees in this spot, and would like to display the video and a painting in tandem together. The video will be projected on the wall next to the painting so that it is the same size, each measuring approximately 3’ x 4’ so that the viewer is able to enter the two views. This will most likely be the final project that I present to the class, though the other videos may help me clarify ideas for this work.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
of interest
traveling. two weeks. paris, berlin, the spanish pyranees, london. again a lot of art. with mountains and air in between.
of interest:
Paris
Women's art exhibition at the Pompidou. Jenny Holzer. (again.) She had printed some typed statements on neon paper and plastered a wall with them. six or so columns, each column a different color, a different statement. Statements of dominance, pleasure in oppressing another, playing messed-up mind games. pleasure in another's pain. the unspoken undercurrent of society. This made me think: what if we say things we don't mean, we don't feel? what if we say them, these things that are part of our experience, that drive a society's way of life, but are never spoken about? what if they're so awful we know that she's just pointing them out? and what if it still hurts?
we must confront pain. keeping words and attitudes hidden, unspoken, in the realm of silence just perpetuates silence, a blind eye. we can keep on being silent. at some point we must speak. we must confront even that which we do not like, what we do not want to believe in because it is there. neon. look at me look at me. drawing attention, making an announcement of what we dare not say.
we must confront pain.
Ana Mendieta. (again. and for the first time in person.) I stand with my arms raised in awe. I bow. a gesture of prayer, of gratitude, of submission (submission to what? to whom?) red draws down from her arms on the white canvas, a single motion of bringing togeher, bowing down. the red of body, pain, death, life. red of sacrifice, vulnerability. bow of sacrifice, vulnerability.
there is pain.
we cause eachother so much pain. we cause ourselves so much pain. in the end, what is left is not our body but a mark, a mere remnant of a gesture. her gesture moved through time to me.
there is pain.
we must sit with, stand with, hold our pain. embrace it. bow to it.
in another, she holds a chicken. she held that chicken. upside down, blood rushing to it's head, flapping, must get away. then the calm settles in (as it does). I have held a chicken like this. (is this my body?) it tried to get away. it didn't want to be held. with a head. then layed down, an axe. without a head. and she holds it again. flap flap. jerk. twist, coil, spasm. then the calm settles in. blood all in it's head. blood all out of it's head. blood all out of it's body. (is this my body?) and her there, holding it. she didn't do the chopping, but she initiated it's killing. and she held it. her naked, mourning. (is this my body?) holding it in it's pain. which was her pain. her body naked, vulnerable. no distance or shield between them. could she calm, could she settle? could she relax like the cicken? I didn't want to watch it. I knew it as it was happening, I knew what would happen. But to see it. to not shy away.
there is pain.
we might as well face it. embrace it. hold it. we do not want to cause it, but we do. (she didn't want to do that. but she did.) and she was with the bird as it died. she held it. she took that pain in. (I took that pain in. is this my body?) we know no boundaries. we know no bounds. we bind. we are bound.
there is pain.
(again.) because
Jenny Holzer is:
IT CAN BE STARTLING TO
SEE SOMEONE'S BREATH,
LET ALONE THE BREATHING OF A CROWD.
YOU USUALLY DON'T BELIEVE THAT
PEOPLE EXTEND THAT FAR.
Ana Mendieta is a silueta in the earth. the echo of a body. a body as affecting, a body as affected. a body with thin bounds. (peau si fine.)
of interest:
Paris
Women's art exhibition at the Pompidou. Jenny Holzer. (again.) She had printed some typed statements on neon paper and plastered a wall with them. six or so columns, each column a different color, a different statement. Statements of dominance, pleasure in oppressing another, playing messed-up mind games. pleasure in another's pain. the unspoken undercurrent of society. This made me think: what if we say things we don't mean, we don't feel? what if we say them, these things that are part of our experience, that drive a society's way of life, but are never spoken about? what if they're so awful we know that she's just pointing them out? and what if it still hurts?
we must confront pain. keeping words and attitudes hidden, unspoken, in the realm of silence just perpetuates silence, a blind eye. we can keep on being silent. at some point we must speak. we must confront even that which we do not like, what we do not want to believe in because it is there. neon. look at me look at me. drawing attention, making an announcement of what we dare not say.
we must confront pain.
Ana Mendieta. (again. and for the first time in person.) I stand with my arms raised in awe. I bow. a gesture of prayer, of gratitude, of submission (submission to what? to whom?) red draws down from her arms on the white canvas, a single motion of bringing togeher, bowing down. the red of body, pain, death, life. red of sacrifice, vulnerability. bow of sacrifice, vulnerability.
there is pain.
we cause eachother so much pain. we cause ourselves so much pain. in the end, what is left is not our body but a mark, a mere remnant of a gesture. her gesture moved through time to me.
there is pain.
we must sit with, stand with, hold our pain. embrace it. bow to it.
in another, she holds a chicken. she held that chicken. upside down, blood rushing to it's head, flapping, must get away. then the calm settles in (as it does). I have held a chicken like this. (is this my body?) it tried to get away. it didn't want to be held. with a head. then layed down, an axe. without a head. and she holds it again. flap flap. jerk. twist, coil, spasm. then the calm settles in. blood all in it's head. blood all out of it's head. blood all out of it's body. (is this my body?) and her there, holding it. she didn't do the chopping, but she initiated it's killing. and she held it. her naked, mourning. (is this my body?) holding it in it's pain. which was her pain. her body naked, vulnerable. no distance or shield between them. could she calm, could she settle? could she relax like the cicken? I didn't want to watch it. I knew it as it was happening, I knew what would happen. But to see it. to not shy away.
there is pain.
we might as well face it. embrace it. hold it. we do not want to cause it, but we do. (she didn't want to do that. but she did.) and she was with the bird as it died. she held it. she took that pain in. (I took that pain in. is this my body?) we know no boundaries. we know no bounds. we bind. we are bound.
there is pain.
(again.) because
Jenny Holzer is:
IT CAN BE STARTLING TO
SEE SOMEONE'S BREATH,
LET ALONE THE BREATHING OF A CROWD.
YOU USUALLY DON'T BELIEVE THAT
PEOPLE EXTEND THAT FAR.
Ana Mendieta is a silueta in the earth. the echo of a body. a body as affecting, a body as affected. a body with thin bounds. (peau si fine.)
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