I was most intrigued by Lamson's A Line
Describing the Sun and Hydrologies especially because they're aesthetically
amazing and I find them weirdly problematic. I find the way these projects
interact with nature sort of uncomfortable. Specifically, they have a
destructive quality, a willingness to interfere with nature, to force it into
complying with the artist's will. I know I'm stretching but it seems so strange
to me to take a phenomenon which occurs once every seven years, as in
Hydrologies Atacama, and then try to instigate the event out of its cycle. I
suppose the project is far too small in scope to have any impact but I felt an
instant anxiety about the potential for disrupting the natural cycle of the
environment. The way in which Will discusses his practice as a kind of research
(tying nicely into our reading from Estelle Barrett on artists as researchers)
offers a lens into the projects that does some work to alleviate my
(mildly/totally) absurd concerns. It was also fascinating that in the case of
Hydrologies Atacama the project didn’t achieve its aim. The flowers never
bloomed. Nature did not bend to his will. And yet, he didn’t see the piece as
having failed, which I thought was great and buoys the parallels to science
that we keep making, in that, a scientific experiment should aim only to find the
reality of the hypothesis and not a specific or desired reality.
12.12.2016
Week 2: Deleuze and Guattari
While I always struggle with Deleuze, there are bits of his writings that resonate. In Marina Kassianidou's "Transferring Marks", she discusses one of the most interesting concepts of his and Guattari's work (that I have read so far). She writes:
Deleuze and Guattari insist that becoming is not the same as imitating or
identifying with something other.112 For them, imitation involves either resemblance of
terms or correspondence of relations.113 In both of these cases, difference is suppressed
as imitation replicates what already exists. It leads to more of the same and there is no
change, no creation.
This concept forms a neat intersection with my work in video and my research on the necessity of challenging movie experiences.
Regarding the former, examining otherness and metamorphosis or types of becoming has been a focal point for my work. In my current, ongoing project, tentatively called Gemini and comprised of two short films, I examine how technology inspires, creates or forces changes in our identities. The narratives are centered on an experimental teleportation technology and the scientists who develop and use it. Unbeknownst to the participants, the teleportation technology doesn't function as they expect it to, and in fact, functions as a kind of translator rather than teleporter. It's not clear whether the participant is split or transformed or perhaps even killed in a sense but what does become clear is that they are different than they were before they used the machine. Far from the usual "what happens when man plays god" anti-science motif that motivates most science fiction films, Gemini is meant to explore identity as a kind of product. That is to say, what is becoming if it stems from an act of interference or manipulation. Further, what is the self if the self does not create it? And how much must we retain of the pre-becoming self for the post-becoming self to be us? And if we enter Deleuze and Guattari's idea (as paraphrased by Kassianidou) that "difference is suppressed as imitation replicates what already exists", what might happen to a character that has used the teleporter and become something else, if that something else is an imitation of the them that already existed? This ties into one of the central questions in several of my works; what is the relationship between memory and the self? If the main character of Gemini uses the teleporter and is changed by that, losing some memories and finding new ones that she did not previously possess, is she no longer herself? What would we do if a loved one suddenly remembered events that we did not or had desires/beliefs that conflict with our understanding of them? Or if it became clear that they were only imitating certain behaviors in order to adhere to our conception of them? Mostly, I suppose, what happens when we become something else?
If only, I can become a version of myself that understands Deleuze.
This concept forms a neat intersection with my work in video and my research on the necessity of challenging movie experiences.
Regarding the former, examining otherness and metamorphosis or types of becoming has been a focal point for my work. In my current, ongoing project, tentatively called Gemini and comprised of two short films, I examine how technology inspires, creates or forces changes in our identities. The narratives are centered on an experimental teleportation technology and the scientists who develop and use it. Unbeknownst to the participants, the teleportation technology doesn't function as they expect it to, and in fact, functions as a kind of translator rather than teleporter. It's not clear whether the participant is split or transformed or perhaps even killed in a sense but what does become clear is that they are different than they were before they used the machine. Far from the usual "what happens when man plays god" anti-science motif that motivates most science fiction films, Gemini is meant to explore identity as a kind of product. That is to say, what is becoming if it stems from an act of interference or manipulation. Further, what is the self if the self does not create it? And how much must we retain of the pre-becoming self for the post-becoming self to be us? And if we enter Deleuze and Guattari's idea (as paraphrased by Kassianidou) that "difference is suppressed as imitation replicates what already exists", what might happen to a character that has used the teleporter and become something else, if that something else is an imitation of the them that already existed? This ties into one of the central questions in several of my works; what is the relationship between memory and the self? If the main character of Gemini uses the teleporter and is changed by that, losing some memories and finding new ones that she did not previously possess, is she no longer herself? What would we do if a loved one suddenly remembered events that we did not or had desires/beliefs that conflict with our understanding of them? Or if it became clear that they were only imitating certain behaviors in order to adhere to our conception of them? Mostly, I suppose, what happens when we become something else?
If only, I can become a version of myself that understands Deleuze.
12.10.2016
Week 11 Writing, thinking, and making: Lee, Siukonen, Jones, Barrett
Barrett's proposition of the artist as researcher is an interesting but fraught with potential crises for me. Specifically, when we talk about research and especially if we're looking to science as the source for how we define research one particular pitfall arises. Science aims to find objective realities and while many question whether it ever does that, to me there is no way to reconcile what I do as an artist and what a scientist must do.
There are many parallels for sure. The scientist and I experiment with our materials, create theories, test them, research other work on the topics and so on. But my goal is kind of the opposite of the scientist. I can't discover a truth in my process. In scientific research, no finding can be considered to be true unless it can be replicated but someone other than the researcher who proposes it. I can't prove that life is this and that. I can't prove that the way in which I see a thing, a person, a time is the best way to see it, the most truthful way to see it. But a scientist can prove that sugar is detrimental to the human body. They can prove that cigarettes cause cancer. They can prove that color is simply the wavelength of the light that an object reflects. I can't prove that the vast majority of our ways of seeing the world are based on our shortcomings.
However, I do agree that as artists, many of us are conducting research. We are trying to see the world in new ways. We are trying to understand what images do to our selves. We are trying to create sensations and thoughts in others. I wish more people thought of artists as a kind of researchers. I wish society saw us as professional investigators who produce aesthetic experiences as venues for collaborative analysis.
So while I may nitpick the semantics, I am buoyed by Barrett's perspective.
There are many parallels for sure. The scientist and I experiment with our materials, create theories, test them, research other work on the topics and so on. But my goal is kind of the opposite of the scientist. I can't discover a truth in my process. In scientific research, no finding can be considered to be true unless it can be replicated but someone other than the researcher who proposes it. I can't prove that life is this and that. I can't prove that the way in which I see a thing, a person, a time is the best way to see it, the most truthful way to see it. But a scientist can prove that sugar is detrimental to the human body. They can prove that cigarettes cause cancer. They can prove that color is simply the wavelength of the light that an object reflects. I can't prove that the vast majority of our ways of seeing the world are based on our shortcomings.
However, I do agree that as artists, many of us are conducting research. We are trying to see the world in new ways. We are trying to understand what images do to our selves. We are trying to create sensations and thoughts in others. I wish more people thought of artists as a kind of researchers. I wish society saw us as professional investigators who produce aesthetic experiences as venues for collaborative analysis.
So while I may nitpick the semantics, I am buoyed by Barrett's perspective.
Rene Cox
René's talk was certainly interesting, often hilarious and at times troubling*.
Her discussion on nudity in her own work was thought-provoking as I've always accepted the common interpretation of nudity as a form of vulnerability. In the west we have a pretty intense reaction to nudity and perhaps its our puritanical roots that make us consider every angle of disparagement the nude form might yield. The nude woman especially is a bizarre and bewildering concept in western cultures. We revile the woman who shows the wrong body at the wrong time, yet we demand access or control over the female body when we decide it doesn't fill the role we desire it to fill.
René's work with the body, African, American, female and male does much to move against these forces and her explanation about how nudity gave her a kind of power was fascinating. She took the vulnerable and remade it, transformed it. In a kind of reclamation, she possessed her image, her representation and chose the parameters and conditions under which it would exist. She took ownership in a space in which the female body and the black body have historically been possessions of an other. Her description of being nude providing a kind of power, a kind of self-determination was very interesting and offers an intriguing alternative to the perception of exploitation and vulnerability that we so often attribute to the object of the naked woman.
Her relationship to the fashion industry was especially interesting in this context as the fashion industry is seen as something of a crucible of reduction/exploitation by many of us media studies types. In our interview, I hoped to get her to discuss the potential conflict between an industry that many view as intensely racist and misogynistic and her interest in creating an aesthetic of black female empowerment but she didn't quite take the question in that direction and her thoughts on the matter remain unknown to me.
*Her mention of how much acknowledgement the Holocaust gets and how little attention we pay to our history with slavery had to me an air of casual anti-semitism, but her point - that we spend very little discourse on slavery and its legacy is well taken.
Her discussion on nudity in her own work was thought-provoking as I've always accepted the common interpretation of nudity as a form of vulnerability. In the west we have a pretty intense reaction to nudity and perhaps its our puritanical roots that make us consider every angle of disparagement the nude form might yield. The nude woman especially is a bizarre and bewildering concept in western cultures. We revile the woman who shows the wrong body at the wrong time, yet we demand access or control over the female body when we decide it doesn't fill the role we desire it to fill.
René's work with the body, African, American, female and male does much to move against these forces and her explanation about how nudity gave her a kind of power was fascinating. She took the vulnerable and remade it, transformed it. In a kind of reclamation, she possessed her image, her representation and chose the parameters and conditions under which it would exist. She took ownership in a space in which the female body and the black body have historically been possessions of an other. Her description of being nude providing a kind of power, a kind of self-determination was very interesting and offers an intriguing alternative to the perception of exploitation and vulnerability that we so often attribute to the object of the naked woman.
Her relationship to the fashion industry was especially interesting in this context as the fashion industry is seen as something of a crucible of reduction/exploitation by many of us media studies types. In our interview, I hoped to get her to discuss the potential conflict between an industry that many view as intensely racist and misogynistic and her interest in creating an aesthetic of black female empowerment but she didn't quite take the question in that direction and her thoughts on the matter remain unknown to me.
*Her mention of how much acknowledgement the Holocaust gets and how little attention we pay to our history with slavery had to me an air of casual anti-semitism, but her point - that we spend very little discourse on slavery and its legacy is well taken.
12.07.2016
Fernando Orellana
Fernando's talk and interview were super
interesting to me, especially his discussion on the way people react to his
robotic installations. The often-intense reactions his piece Elevator's Music
would get from people, either via their extreme discomfort with robots or their
comically compassionate response to them, which climaxed when one robot got
stuck in the ceiling and wasn't able to retract into its hideaway. This
prompted some viewers to alert the museum authorities in an effort to assist
the robot in its time of need.
As
a science fiction nerd and someone who is fairly obsessed with Otherness and
the role of compassion in creating a livable society, the topic is fascinating.
My current project is about identity and how technology influences or mutates
our selves. It's a part of a larger body of
work which threads a series of stories together, each offering different
examinations of interrelated social issues and one of the central goals is too
look at the role of various factors on how we see the Other, how we assign or
deny human rights, how we define the self, and so on.
Currently
a good bit of discussion is happening in the technological world about what to
do with new forms of consciousness when they arrive. With advances in
Artificial Intelligence, virtual reality systems, cloning technologies, and embryonic genetic modification among others, we're at a point in our development as a
species that these questions have become genuinely important as opposed to fun
theoretical exercises.
The diverse responses to these robots, whether
in their moment of struggle or simply as they did what they were made to do
gives a tiny glimpse into how we might approach a world in which aliens, robots,
clones and/or synthetic lifeforms live amongst us, the current masters of
consciousness.
11.07.2016
Week 7: Derrida, O'Doherty, Owens (Exhibition)
Owens' discussion on Gerhard Richter's lack of formal/medium consistency is very interesting to me as I am still planning on working with video art/installation, photography, sound art and documentary in addition to my current focus on narrative film. I met Kurt Hentschlager (an artist whose work I admire) a few years ago and I asked him to give me feedback on my portfolio via my website, and he was generous to do so. His feedback though wasn't especially satisfying as he essentially just said that I needed to focus on one of the things I was doing as the art world kind of demanded that of us. It's good career advice, I'm sure, but I don't know if I'm smart enough to follow it.
Owens' focus on the mechanisms that control the valuation of art is well received as I am always discomforted by being an artist (especially in filmmaking) in a system that prioritizes profit over all other factors. Though, Tarkovsky struggled to produce works under the Soviet system so perhaps there's simply no world in which making challenging, slow films is seen as a broadly valuable enterprise.
Into the broader discussion on the "how"/"where" of exhibition, I'm less nervous. I love museums and galleries (as a consumer) and going to movie theaters is still something I enjoy quite a bit, barring the horrors of chewing noises and chatter. I find these places welcoming in general and the sanctimonious qualities that others revile don't actually bother me. In fact, the way that they "frame" the works seems pretty reasonable to me. A clean, white room will do just fine.
My main concern is access and invitation. We must in my view, be absolutely sure that everyone has access to the work and feels that it is for them as much as anyone. They must feel legitimate in their perspectives so as to avoid dislocation, which generally seems to lead to disinterest.
To this end, I return to my constant unease with work that is intensely referential to other works, as in works that form the kind of insular "inside joke" quality that so much art appears to have these days. "Oh, this piece is gonna really show it to the art industry!" In a way it feels like we've all been sucked into a kind of art-about-art whirlpool, furthering the crisis of de-incentivization of consumers who are not "from" the art world itself. What does the barely-middle class parent get from these oh-so-witty critiques of the art world's absurdity? Why shouldn't they just stay home and watch a movie or tv show about people experiencing things they themselves experience?
Owens' focus on the mechanisms that control the valuation of art is well received as I am always discomforted by being an artist (especially in filmmaking) in a system that prioritizes profit over all other factors. Though, Tarkovsky struggled to produce works under the Soviet system so perhaps there's simply no world in which making challenging, slow films is seen as a broadly valuable enterprise.
Into the broader discussion on the "how"/"where" of exhibition, I'm less nervous. I love museums and galleries (as a consumer) and going to movie theaters is still something I enjoy quite a bit, barring the horrors of chewing noises and chatter. I find these places welcoming in general and the sanctimonious qualities that others revile don't actually bother me. In fact, the way that they "frame" the works seems pretty reasonable to me. A clean, white room will do just fine.
My main concern is access and invitation. We must in my view, be absolutely sure that everyone has access to the work and feels that it is for them as much as anyone. They must feel legitimate in their perspectives so as to avoid dislocation, which generally seems to lead to disinterest.
To this end, I return to my constant unease with work that is intensely referential to other works, as in works that form the kind of insular "inside joke" quality that so much art appears to have these days. "Oh, this piece is gonna really show it to the art industry!" In a way it feels like we've all been sucked into a kind of art-about-art whirlpool, furthering the crisis of de-incentivization of consumers who are not "from" the art world itself. What does the barely-middle class parent get from these oh-so-witty critiques of the art world's absurdity? Why shouldn't they just stay home and watch a movie or tv show about people experiencing things they themselves experience?
10.20.2016
Week 8 Freud, Tisseron, Bennett
Freud, of course, makes me reel and contort as his penchant for what appear to me to be extreme conclusions, not to mention the utterly bizarre aspects of his own personality and psyche. Especially interesting and I believe problematic is his way of analyzing his grandson's game of Fort-da, in which he assumes that the game revolves around a delayed gratification and a kind of masochistic action to bring about future pleasure. I think that one might very reasonably argue that the child is simply exploring the physical potential of his body and the objects with which he interacts. Freud needs it be specific kind of thing, I believe and finds ways of interpreting the behaviors to coincide with his previous arguments.
Tisseron's "All Writing is Drawing" made me think about how I write my screenplays and how gesture is so important to film performance. For instance, a scene in the last film I made, was built around two people standing with their backs to each other while they placed or removed things in/from lockers. This culminated in a moment where their hair (both having long blond hair) collided and by way of static electricity and friction their hair seemed to hold on to the strands of the other, creating a gesture that might be read as a kind of longing for intimacy or need for contact. And especially as a person who loves minimal dialogue in films, I'm interested in gesture or internal emotional experience, which I believe film is so good at expressing in spite of the fact that so few filmmakers are
Bennett's discussion of agency in non-human objects brought up a script I had written and have been considering making for my thesis about 2 geneticists (both women) who create a human male via genetic design. They then lose control of the project and the person they co-created and one of the central conflicts revolves around questions of exterior and specifically corporate influence on identity and agency. While the script does not examine non-human agency so much as examine the definition of human, I am very interested in a kind of ethical discussion about characters in films. That is to say I want to be looking at how we treat characters in films and whether there is an ethical component to it. Is it OK to torture a character? Is their suffering of no import since they are not real? Does the character's position as proxy or surrogate for the audience change the ethical implications, i.e. can a filmmaker be cruel to the antagonist in ways they could not be to the protagonist? Eventually, this must lead to questions of OTHERNESS, dehumanization and disassociation and the role of images in social constructions of compassion and communal thinking.
Tisseron's "All Writing is Drawing" made me think about how I write my screenplays and how gesture is so important to film performance. For instance, a scene in the last film I made, was built around two people standing with their backs to each other while they placed or removed things in/from lockers. This culminated in a moment where their hair (both having long blond hair) collided and by way of static electricity and friction their hair seemed to hold on to the strands of the other, creating a gesture that might be read as a kind of longing for intimacy or need for contact. And especially as a person who loves minimal dialogue in films, I'm interested in gesture or internal emotional experience, which I believe film is so good at expressing in spite of the fact that so few filmmakers are
Bennett's discussion of agency in non-human objects brought up a script I had written and have been considering making for my thesis about 2 geneticists (both women) who create a human male via genetic design. They then lose control of the project and the person they co-created and one of the central conflicts revolves around questions of exterior and specifically corporate influence on identity and agency. While the script does not examine non-human agency so much as examine the definition of human, I am very interested in a kind of ethical discussion about characters in films. That is to say I want to be looking at how we treat characters in films and whether there is an ethical component to it. Is it OK to torture a character? Is their suffering of no import since they are not real? Does the character's position as proxy or surrogate for the audience change the ethical implications, i.e. can a filmmaker be cruel to the antagonist in ways they could not be to the protagonist? Eventually, this must lead to questions of OTHERNESS, dehumanization and disassociation and the role of images in social constructions of compassion and communal thinking.
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