i'm copying melody fayth hopefully this is right
1. my boyfriend's room is very dark all the time. his walls and sheets are both a dark blue, and his room faces the house's shady backyard. little beams of white light poke through the blinds in the afternoon, landing on dakota's blanket as little blue rectangles. dakota has a green bulb in his floor lamp, and it casts a dim green glow around the room, tinting everything slightly. still, every color in the room is muted from the general lack of a bright light source, and it's so cozy i want to curl up and go to sleep forever.
2. north 5th avenue is banked on both sides by large trees that canopy the street. the afternoon sunlight scatters through the thick leaves and onto the newly paved road, creating beautiful star shaped patterns. it reflects off the windshields and shiny hoods of the cars parallel parked on either side of the street. dakota and i walk across the bridge that leads to 5th and red cross and look at the landscape below. a grassy valley devoid of trees, the bright sunlight hits it directly, showcasing the dramatic green color of the field (it will begin to turn yellow soon). dakota's brown hair is shiny in the direct sunlight - it's several shades lighter out here, almost a honey blonde. the blue in my hair is much more obvious under the natural light. we cross the bridge and continue to walk under the shade of the ancient downtown trees once more.
Lynne Sachs
I really wanted to attend Lynne Sachs' presentation this evening, but due to the fact that I am drowning in assignments (ah, the life of a film major) I'll have to miss out. It's quite disappointing, especially because after reading her Wikipedia page and her interview with Karen Rester, as well as watching several of her short films, she seems like a very intriguing person to converse with. I'm definitely excited to interact with her in class tomorrow.
Her interview with Karen Rester gave me a pretty good sense of the kind of person she is - very articulate, with a strong sense of self and a lot of passion. In my very first blog entry, I mentioned that I'm the kind of person who often finds it difficult to glean deeper meaning from things I encounter in my scholarly exploits. Lynne Sachs is definitely not one of these people. Everything has meaning to her, and this extends to the things she observes in her own content. Her comment about how her film Your Day is My Night got its name is a prime example of this. It's all one big circle; everything relates back to each other, like in nature. I wish I could think that way.
My favorite film of the many I watched was Drift and Bough (2014), which is filled with long takes of snowy banks and winter scenery. I will admit I cried an embarrassing amount watching it.
The first day of class we discussed how some experimental film can exist for the purpose of conveying a feeling. I feel that Drift and Bough is one of these films. It touched me on a very personal level as someone who fell in love with the cold, snowy climate of the mountains only to be dragged back to this swampy hellhole. I don't know exactly what mood Sachs hoped to convey with this film, but for me it was melancholy. Not because of her portrayal of the weather itself, but because of my desperate, nostalgic longing for the cold; those snowy banks that, for me, only exist in another place, another time, to which I feel as though I can never return.
EDIT: After writing this post I continued to watch more of Sachs' films and discovered Wind In Our Hair, which was filmed in Argentina and involves adaptations of some of Julio Cortázar's short stories. I'm incredibly excited to ask her about her experience filming this, as I spent a month in Buenos Aires this past May and fell madly in love with Argentina. I can't wait to hear her thoughts.
Her interview with Karen Rester gave me a pretty good sense of the kind of person she is - very articulate, with a strong sense of self and a lot of passion. In my very first blog entry, I mentioned that I'm the kind of person who often finds it difficult to glean deeper meaning from things I encounter in my scholarly exploits. Lynne Sachs is definitely not one of these people. Everything has meaning to her, and this extends to the things she observes in her own content. Her comment about how her film Your Day is My Night got its name is a prime example of this. It's all one big circle; everything relates back to each other, like in nature. I wish I could think that way.
My favorite film of the many I watched was Drift and Bough (2014), which is filled with long takes of snowy banks and winter scenery. I will admit I cried an embarrassing amount watching it.
The first day of class we discussed how some experimental film can exist for the purpose of conveying a feeling. I feel that Drift and Bough is one of these films. It touched me on a very personal level as someone who fell in love with the cold, snowy climate of the mountains only to be dragged back to this swampy hellhole. I don't know exactly what mood Sachs hoped to convey with this film, but for me it was melancholy. Not because of her portrayal of the weather itself, but because of my desperate, nostalgic longing for the cold; those snowy banks that, for me, only exist in another place, another time, to which I feel as though I can never return.
EDIT: After writing this post I continued to watch more of Sachs' films and discovered Wind In Our Hair, which was filmed in Argentina and involves adaptations of some of Julio Cortázar's short stories. I'm incredibly excited to ask her about her experience filming this, as I spent a month in Buenos Aires this past May and fell madly in love with Argentina. I can't wait to hear her thoughts.
Assignment 1B
In terms of technical proficiency, I consider myself to be pretty adept when it comes to sound design. This assignment forced me to reign in my confidence and accept that I still have some growing to do in terms of understanding what makes good sound design. While I am happy with the final product of Matt's and my soundscape, listening to everyone else's made me wish we had done things a little differently. (Of course, there I go again comparing my work to others', but what can you do?) When Matt and I began to work on this assignment, we listened to everyone's entire sound libraries and picked out all the sounds we liked and felt resonated with our title (There Were 20 Dead - No, 12), and then we figured out a way to incorporate them all together. The result was a cacophony of sound that gets overwhelming at times. I think this fit well with our title, because (for me, least) I wanted to sort of create a hellish feeling to accompany the theme of death. However, looking back, I wish we had been a bit more reserved and precise with the sounds we chose. I really loved Parker and Jake's soundscape because it was so simple yet portrayed their theme so perfectly. It made me realize that more doesn't always equal better, and I think if we had went for a more minimalistic approach as well, I may have liked our final soundscape a lot more.
The Absolute Film - W. Moritz
Having taken 6x1, I have learned about and actually had the opportunity to make an "absolute film" such as the ones by Eggeling and Richter discussed here. While most might find the anecdotes about the short length of the filmmakers' first scroll drawings interesting or funny, it was all too relatable for me. When we watch animations derived from painting on celluloid, it seems easy enough...until you actually try it yourself. Since every film in 6x1 must be a minute long, and since celluloid film stock runs at about 24 frames per second, the time really adds up. I don't even remember how long it took me to complete my 15 second animation of a seed becoming a fetus, but let's just say I empathize with Eggeling and Richter. If only I had had Re Soupault to help me with my animation!
But I digress; my point is that we may often view absolute films such as these as boring or unimpressive (at least I'm guilty of it), when in fact there is so much work and genuine care that went (and still goes) into making them. If anyone still has their doubts, perhaps we should make them create a minute long animation on film stock and see what they think then.
Presentations - Responses
I enjoyed all of the presentations last week. It's really exciting to be able to learn so much about so many important, influential filmmakers. It's hard for me to get past my deeply ingrained misconception that most experimental films are pretty similar - weird, vague, and boring to watch. However, learning more about the filmmakers' lives and seeing their distinctive work gave me a newfound appreciation for some of the films we saw.
The work of Jonas Mekas in particular profoundly affected me. I was tearing up several times throughout watching the snippets of his films. The simple glimpses into his life were oddly beautiful, and his voiceover even moreso. There is something so unique, chilling, and absolutely gorgeous about seeing into the small, mundane aspects of someone else's life.
Mekas' films remind me of one of my favorite music videos of all time - the video to my favorite artist, Joanna Newsom's song, Peach, Plum, Pear.
It is a fan video, but everyone regards it as official because of how well it fits with the song. The creator discovered reels of this unknown family's home videos at a yard sale and thought they were so interesting and beautiful that he had to share them with the world. I've seen the video countless times and I still get emotional watching it.
I had a harder time feeling connected in any sort of way to the works of Viking Eggeling and Hans Richter. I dislike Dadaism even though I agree with the ideals for which it stands. I did find it intriguing to learn that Eggeling mentored such an influential person as Stanley Kubrick at the Institute of Film Techniques. He also taught Maya Deren, whom I will be presenting about next week. (Get pumped!!!) I will have to keep this tidbit of knowledge in mind as I delve into her own background and ideals.
My favorite fact about Len Lye was that he lived in a lighthouse. I would kill to live in one of those! I also was surprised to learn that he at one point collaborated with Hitchcock in one of his earlier films. I think it would have been really interesting to see what sort of special effect sequences Lye could have created for some of Hitchcock's more well known movies, such as The Birds. As for Lye's own films, I enjoyed watching Rainbow Dance. It felt very familiar; I think it's been copied many times in present day media, so it was interesting to learn who the original idea is attributed to.
Finally, I wasn't enthralled with Harry Smith's work; it called to mind many aspects of Dada (particularly his cutout videos), which, again, I have a sort of distaste for. Still, I have to appreciate the amount of time and energy he clearly put into his films.
My old roommate was obsessed with the poets of the Beat Generation (and in turn I now know far too much about them), so it's interesting that I knew nothing of Smith before this presentation. I'd be interested to know how much he and the Beat poets influenced each others' work.
The work of Jonas Mekas in particular profoundly affected me. I was tearing up several times throughout watching the snippets of his films. The simple glimpses into his life were oddly beautiful, and his voiceover even moreso. There is something so unique, chilling, and absolutely gorgeous about seeing into the small, mundane aspects of someone else's life.
Mekas' films remind me of one of my favorite music videos of all time - the video to my favorite artist, Joanna Newsom's song, Peach, Plum, Pear.
It is a fan video, but everyone regards it as official because of how well it fits with the song. The creator discovered reels of this unknown family's home videos at a yard sale and thought they were so interesting and beautiful that he had to share them with the world. I've seen the video countless times and I still get emotional watching it.
I had a harder time feeling connected in any sort of way to the works of Viking Eggeling and Hans Richter. I dislike Dadaism even though I agree with the ideals for which it stands. I did find it intriguing to learn that Eggeling mentored such an influential person as Stanley Kubrick at the Institute of Film Techniques. He also taught Maya Deren, whom I will be presenting about next week. (Get pumped!!!) I will have to keep this tidbit of knowledge in mind as I delve into her own background and ideals.
My favorite fact about Len Lye was that he lived in a lighthouse. I would kill to live in one of those! I also was surprised to learn that he at one point collaborated with Hitchcock in one of his earlier films. I think it would have been really interesting to see what sort of special effect sequences Lye could have created for some of Hitchcock's more well known movies, such as The Birds. As for Lye's own films, I enjoyed watching Rainbow Dance. It felt very familiar; I think it's been copied many times in present day media, so it was interesting to learn who the original idea is attributed to.
Finally, I wasn't enthralled with Harry Smith's work; it called to mind many aspects of Dada (particularly his cutout videos), which, again, I have a sort of distaste for. Still, I have to appreciate the amount of time and energy he clearly put into his films.
My old roommate was obsessed with the poets of the Beat Generation (and in turn I now know far too much about them), so it's interesting that I knew nothing of Smith before this presentation. I'd be interested to know how much he and the Beat poets influenced each others' work.
Assignment 1A
I had a lot of fun with this project. My group got along really well, and all of us are quite easygoing people, so there was minimal stress associated with getting everything done. We got together and went to town recording the sounds of simple, everyday objects in Parker and Gabby's apartment. I was surprised how distinctive everything sounded. My fear at the beginning of the assignment was that we would fail to provide a diverse enough soundscape - I didn't want to let my peers down! However, as I listened through the headphones to the noise each object produced, watching the levels dance up and down on the H6, I realized every sound was entirely unique from the others. What was really cool was that the sounds the objects made often sounded really foreign, and without seeing the objects before me, I probably wouldn't know what most of them were just from sound alone! Putting them all together and listening to them in succession was fascinating for this reason because the objects were alienated even more without the ability to see them - sometimes I forgot altogether what I was really listening to!
In 6x1, we discussed both cymatics and synesthesia at length. Before that, I was not familiar with cymatics, but I think it's amazing. Nature is so crazy - everything seems so random and without order, but natural phenomena seem to never fail to produce beautiful, intricate patterns all around us. Just like every single snowflake is unique, it seems that every cymatic pattern is as well. I would absolutely love to play around with one of the metal plates they had hooked up to the keyboard. I want to see what my favorite songs look like in the sand. I think it would be so beautiful.
I was sort of familiar with synesthesia prior to this class and 6x1, but hearing about it never ceases to make me extremely envious of those who possess it. Perhaps in some cases it could be seen as a handicap, but I think it's incredible. To have the ability to "see" songs and paint them would be so cool (I want to commission Melissa McCracken to paint me a song!); more practically, I have heard that those who associate words and numbers with color have impeccable memory - something I desperately lack. A girl in my creative writing class several years ago was a synesthete, and by the end of the very first meeting she'd already memorized all of our names (Ryan is blue.) It's also crazy how many different forms synesthesia can express itself in. For a long time I had the notion that it was only the combination of vision and hearing, but imagine being able to smell a word, or taste it! Overall, synesthesia seems to just make life more interesting and vivid. But perhaps I am ignorant on the matter. I wonder if there are synesthetes who see it as an affliction, and if so, I wonder why.
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