Sunday, April 29, 2007
name & titles . . .
Saturday, April 28, 2007
showering
Writing this is encouraging me to take up some form of hydrotherapy, and soon (of course, um, I still need to shower, today). And this has little to nothing to do w/ writing, so apologies there, or maybe there is something to be said, something about the joy of seeing the water move, flow, slip, . . . the way you can see things even through it and how water changes what you see and how you see it. Oh sure, we've been using the concept of "fluidity" in our theoretical work on writing forever now, but it has, or, had (for me) become a sort of stable concept (because of its ubiquitous appearance, especially in writing the postmodern), and so I guess it does help me see this image, the joy on Fiona's face as the water slips through the holes in the bucket that holds her bath toys. It's freaking-out joy, it's uncontainable, limitless, even a little scary. Seeing this image inflects the fluidity concept, reactivates it, remotivates me to contemplate its presence in my brain as it tries to write, as it tries to think about writing, as it tries to imagine ways of teaching writing.
Somewhat sadly, I'm also moved to think about resistance to the visual in writing instruction, which simply makes no sense to me. Because. I'll never forget, after having been put on "permanent suspension" from UF in the 80's, and, after working a lot of horrid jobs and becoming a successful cosmetologist and then blowing that, I went back to community college, where we used Warriner's English, and on the cover was this lovely image. I found out, ... I discovered my first Rothko. On Warriner's English! It was a powerful association for me, English with contemporary art. it still is. this image (left) of the book seems to suggest a Rothko, and I'd so wanted to include the actual image of the book, that edition --which i'd love to think I still own but am almost certain it's gone. it was a lovely blank white field with an all blue Rothko at center (I believe it was his 1952 "Blue, Green, and Brown"). I'll never forget looking for info on the cover image and seeing "Mark Rothko," and then rushing out to find out about him, learning about de Kooning, Motherwell, Pollock, and thinking about what they were doing and wondering how it represented grammar and Composition (composing made sense), later reading Vonnegut's Bluebeard and wanting to love it because it dealt with the abstract expressionists, but i remember not loving it, actually, but forgiving it because it was about identification, finding a field of vibratory pleasure and maybe, even, power (all that from its "origins" in Composition. ha. ha.).
But so back to resistance to the visual in Composition. Sometimes, the resistance registers visibly in/on the body. You can see it, the fluttering frustrated hand, waving away your theory/comment at The Big Conference or hallway chat, the face turning sour, the sense of your opponent simply drying up before your eyes (which are, conversely, overfull w/ tears trying to flow but for your mighty attempt at registering an affect of indifference or "maturity" as though you think maybe you too should dry up and get serious about writing, about written discourse). Ach. You see how this is moving. And it's interesting because I am right now feeling as though I desperately need a drink of water (which is not uncommon for me as i have diabetes insipdus, which is not diabetes mellitus, the insulin requiring diabetes. DI is a condition many people develop after having surgery to remove a pituitary tumor, and I had just such a surgery in 1994 for a nasty mass called a craniopharyngioma. Sometimes, the pituitary is scarred from the surgery, and you can no longer produce anti-diuretic hormone; that's me. There is a medicine, but it's difficult to manage, especially if you have one kidney, also like me, born that way. fabulous).
So now it's flowing, right? And all of this forces me to recall the time I walked into the MCA in Chicago (one of my favorite museums) and saw Andres Serrano's "Piss Christ," of which I'd known nothing at the time. It regarded me coolly as I walked in the door. It was the first image I saw (probably explaining my affection for the MCA). I remember staring at it and thinking how beautiful it was and how calming it was and that i felt spiritually connected to it. My husband walked matter-of-factly by and seemed to know the photo, the controversy, everything. He asked me if I'd read the info on it. I hadn't. I was vibing out on the image. When I did read the text, the image evolved into a sign from God that all was well w/ the world, even w/ my one kidney and DI and my sense that I am a horrible freak of nature. You see, for people w/ one kidney, pee (my preferred term) is a Very Good Thing. When you stop peeing for any appreciable amount of time (and for people like us, we know what that is), you need to get to the ER and fast. For people with DI, pee is a fact of life. We go a LOT (hear the tune to Faith No More's "We Care A Lot." I always do). So I sort of saw the image as a sign from god that DI (which seemed like a curse) was actually the thing that could help my sad kidney to be okay (it's pretty ugly and looks horribly abnormal. It looks blocked because it's stenotic, narrow, where the kidney connects to the ureter; whenever an x-ray tech sees it, they come running back in the room to see if I'm actually alive).
So pee is good, for me, and maybe even DI is good, for me, because, well the DI keeps it flowing through, in a way (although ask my husband how he enjoys pulling over all the time and he'll tell you it's not all that; actually, he's sort of normalized the patient response and frequently asks if I need to stop, which is very sweet).
So but back to the image: I love to tell my students about my experience with "Piss Christ" because when I tell them what it is, about the materials used and the methods of production, about a crucifix that the artist has dropped into a backlit tank full of his own urine, they expect to hear me wail in disgust as I offer a scathing critique. instead, I get to tell them that the image is God speaking to me and that my particular lens compels me to see it as a kind of affirmation. But, no, visual images are merely stimuli, arhetorical. They don't have a place in a writing classroom. My God.
Friday, April 27, 2007
compression
another film that explores our desires to transcend is the amazing decasia: the state of decay. you. must. see. it. when i saw it at Sundance a few years ago, the director, Bill Morrison, explained that he chose archival footage (all had to be in some stage of actual celluloid decay) which featured human beings attempting to transcend. so, it opens w/ whirling dervishes . . . there are nuns and children preparing to eat and pray . . . there are people trying to help others in mining & other forms of catastrophe . . . and more. but what's so striking is that these images morph in to and out of clarity, reflecting both in form and content the theme, the truth that we are always, despite our actions, however heroic or spiritual or ordinary, in decay. and while this could be overwhelmingly dark (it is dark), somehow, the film is hauntingly beautiful (thanks, in large part, to the score by Michael Gordon). the film does not aritculate via special effects; it is simply(?) decaying archival footage, edited and scored. there is a clip at the link, above. or here . . . watch.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
sun's "pregnancy"
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
dolphin water guns
this is my cousin, Jesse (left) and my sister, Emily. the photo was taken years ago (clearly) in the Florida Keys. we used to spend every summer there until we had a nasty boating accident in 1973. that ended it. but i love this image, the dolphin water guns, Jesse's innocent expression and Emily's outrage -- i don't know what it's about. once, when she was raging mad at my sister, Carrie, she looked at her and declared w/ near-combustible fury, "S, . . . N . . .O . . . S . . . N!" Carrie looked at her cooly and replied, without affect, "snosn?" Emily stood exquistely furious and unable to speak or move or do anything. it was indescribably sad, but, yes, we all laughed -- which made it unspeakably worse for Emily. she had been so certain that S-N-O-S-N meant something . . . which is maybe what i'm thinking about, the things we say and do with some sense that it's important; maybe we're not sure, but we fling it out there, trot it out for display, reactivate our associations with it and imagine someone vibing out on its potential in some time and space (too groovy, you say? snosn).
the latest picture i have of Jesse is from his work in Baghdad (Jesse is in the military); he is standing with a local man with whom he'd been discussing neighborhood issues while drinking chai tea for an hour (an hour's worth of Iraqi chai?! i'll bet that was some conversation . . . ). Jesse used to do this rap when he was a kid. it went, "my name is Jesse/ mmmmm . . . I do not mess around, ha-ah/turn around/ touch the ground/get back up and boogie down, I say peace, peace . . . peace, peace . . . " it was hysterical. now, it's weirdly poignant and hopeful. Emily is now a mother of one and pregnant with her second child. her first daughter, Fiona is my lovely little niece who likes to say "i LIKE it" about everything. it's adorable and innocent and childlike and hopeful, like squirting each other with dolphin water guns and getting bowl haircuts from mom and NOT wanting to have your picture taken because your image is yours and not for the taking, not just now. when i'm ready.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
silly ball gown
Monday, April 23, 2007
new macbook
You know the mbp, supershiny & modern & suggestive of ease and simplicity (and there is truth in it, but it's still a move). And on clever rhetorical moves, is there any round of ads more entertaining than the mac vs. pc ads featuring John Hodgman, who is known for his appearances on The Daily Show but should be lavished with loving kisses for his book The Areas of My Expertise, imaged to resemble a bottle of Dr. Bronner's soap? (it's bizarre to put a question mark so far from the question, but i'll ramble on and try to be correct, and i think that's actually correct, which is bizarre). That mac, played by Justin Long is famous, too; I remember him fondly from Dodgeball.
Interestingly, while the mac vs. pc ads are effective, I find myself so sympathetic to poor pc that I almost want to hang in there w/ him, but in the end, the logic is clear. I recently manifested with greater personal clarity the superiority of the mac when I was preparing to spend a day w/ faculty at Old Dominion University. I was to lead a 5 hour workshop on multimodality, so naturally I had lots of little films and powerpoints and links to follow & whatnot. When I tried loading up my Toshiba laptop to run everything, it was like attempting to move against a hideous Southwestern monsoon wind (of which i know a disturbing bit because of my 3 years living in Phoenix, AZ).
I wonder if it's like when you stop smoking (if you've stopped smoking) & you become evangelical about it and drive everyone around you mad. So I'll move on, although I want to note also that since getting my mbp, I have to admit to a sense of compulsion to create this blog. It's as though if you claim to work in new media (i'm not sure i claim it; i will say i'm a filmmaker and a rhetorician and a teacher of writing and someone who likes thinking about images), well, that you must create a blog. It's not true, I realize it, and as I said in my first post, it is for me probably a bad idea. I need to focus on my 2-book project (both on film discourses in r/c . . . 1. history . . . 2. production, especially in the present). It's my summer project because I can't seem to land a job that affords me enough time to work on my writing (but wait, you say, stop blogging and start writing !? . . .). We'll see.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
louis vuitton in space
But so the buildings across the street, how they situate LV in a space, which is ironic because this image shows me that LV dominates the region in ways that do the situating. What are those buildings? Who knows? Who cares? It's LV that provides the shiny, reflective surface, enabling their visibility (from this scene). We even see discrete windows, which indicate discrete office units and the spectre of the individual who ordinarily occupies the space (i think here of Fassbinder's Despair, which I loved, an affect you won't find in Phillip Lopate's less than favorable but--as always--entertaining--review essay). But so this imagined individual, merely a hint of a suggestion, really, because Louis Vuitton is the only individual we see. they could be very important buildings, those reflections, but from this stance, nothing else exits (even the sky is diminished) but the iconic image of a name. and, despite feeling that i should probably be horrified by this image, i find it incredibly beautiful.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
reactivating cult status despite mass liquidation of aura, authenticity
Friday, April 20, 2007
shiny
valeria
Thursday, April 19, 2007
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image source In 1973, our family's fishing boat broke. The bow broke off after crashing down in the trough of a wave. We were return...
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If you thought things were retrogressing in Russia, you. Have. No. Idea. See Durakovo: Les Village des Fous (Village of Fools) , Nino Kir...