Saturday, March 10, 2012
Here is a film I directed back on November 9th and 10th, 2010 with a few drunk photo students after a long day in the lab. All of it was pulled together spontaneously with a generous dose of free association and mutual love of David Lynch.
The footage sat around a while, I had no idea how to edit a movie or any confidence my computer would even be able to handle the task. Recording some music for Vince McAley's “The Only Picture Of Us”, I felt inspired to throw our little movie together.
The theme, “Leah”, was a melody I would wail alone in my car at the time. On the third day of editing, I remembered the odd time signature I would originally sing the tune to. I didn't think anyone would want to hear my voice, so I whistled instead. Its much more weird and menacing now than longing and heartbroken, so I guess its perfect for this particular “romantic comedy”.
To ensure the highest quality viewing experience, I divided the film into four parts.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Dr. SEUSS Unorthodox Taxidermy, circa 1938
Do yourself a favor and look up taxidermy on eBay. For most insane results, list highest price first. There's a lot more of those Dr. Seuss trophies, by the way.
Where better to place half a coffee table than on the skinned husk of a majestic royal beast?
There's always money in the shark stand.
Come for the meat furniture, stay for the awkward racial politics.
I'll leave you with this. Vintage lifelike goat wiggles ear, shakes head. Eerily realistic. Taxidermy?
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Last night, at 8:09 CST, Rachel Maddow beeowept.
Actually it was more of a doowip, but she's a California girl.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Over the last year, I have been investigating the warping of space in images. It began as an exercise in trying to understand the feeling of wide lenses vs. long lenses, and as a special curiosity toward the flatness of certain medium format photographs. I am still not entirely able to pin down what “it” is. It usually has something to do with the deep focus of the image, the composition in relationship to the eyes of the subject, and the apparent absence of barrel distortion.
In another way, what gives an image a different sense of presence? What are our subconscious clues that we are looking at a photograph, and how is that separate from how we construct images in our minds?
Cropped images can eliminate barrel distortion, or sample a flatter range. I believe that the landscapes we see in our mind tend to be collages. When you look at a drawing or painting, space is affected by insertion of things that were not; subjects and objects paid attention to a moment at a time.
Scannography follows this same wandering mind. Distortion of objects is not a matter of space, but of time. There is a flatness discovered in the simplification of drawing. A broadness and evenness to lighting impossible to source. A dreamy shallow depth of field to mimic the vagueness of memory. And a bizarre extended technique of creating new nameless anatomical features by gestures of the body through time; Bellmeresque distortions of the body.
I’ve been looking back into Cezanne, the cubists, and the Weimar Republic painters for new insights. New to me, anyways. This added to my permanent fascinations with 8-bit video games, Meatyard, Fellini, and Parajanov.
This constant awareness of space has begun to affect my dreams. Last night I was lying about with random friends playing these large handheld arcade games. About the size and shape of the new Lite-Brites. Some strange version of Ducktails, I believe. In the bottom third of the screen, the characters raced in an alley in front of a picket fence. Behind, and so above, were suburban houses uphill with all manner of strange repeating structures and rolling obstacles tumbling down. All moved sidescreen, which in the heat of the action would become live. Short spiraling picket fences, up the side of the hill, with photographic brothers inside throwing stones as we ran in duck suits through the alley. In my lucid awareness, I rewound and reviewed the memory, again and again, until it became too unstable to be conclusive.
Meditation in life is merely practice for the dream world.