I viewed Paul McCarthy's experimental film "Painter" for the first time. In fact, I have never seen any of McCarthy's work before yesterday. I have to say, I was quite shocked. It took me five to ten minutes to realize what was going on; what the artist was criticizing. Upon research on McCarthy after finishing the film, I found that he was satirizing impressionist artists (Willem de Kooning specifically), surrealist artists, the art world in general, and Disney. Originally trained in painting, he creates works around film and sculpture; "Painter" includes all three. In an online network called "Dangerous Minds," this work is described as "[mimicking], in its lo-tech way, the outrages of Dali and Bunuel's Un Chien Andalou with a deranged Mouseketeers on brown acid vibe." I looked into Un Chien Andalou and saw a bit of a connection as far as chaos and destruction goes, but he more so reminded me of a high-pitched Disney character talking nonstop nonsense. I researched more of McCarthy's work and found sculptures representing Disney creatures and imaginary characters, such as Santa Claus, with explicit content (violence, sexual innuendos, etc.). "Painter" did not include such characters, but it did feature a giant-nosed artist with similar-nosed dealers and collectors interacting with and admiring him.
The more I look at McCarthy's work, the more I see the prevalence of sculpture. Even in his films, he is recording moving sculptures. Whether the actors are completely sculpted over to become unrecognizable, as in "Piccadilly Circus" (also includes creepy sawing off of body parts), or just extended, like the giant noses and his hands in "Painter." With this, comes the presence of messy-ness and destruction; flailing paint everywhere, slathering food, chopping off hands, and heads, stabbing canvases and massive "Shit" colored paint tubes. However, despite all of the chaos, he is commenting on something societal. Ubu.com states that McCarthy's "elaborate fabrications involved the restaging of culturally-charged myths and icons...in the context of family psychodramas, Hollywood geners, and mass media." His fabrications are exaggerations of the ridiculous stories that the mass media has grounded into our culture over generations. McCarthy's performances are outrageous to the naked eye, yet you can see the same in the media if you just look deeper and read between the lines.
In my first viewing of anything McCarthy (which was "Painter"), I didn't necessarily "connect" with the work, though it did immediately grab my attention. After realizing the meaning behind the content, I was intrigued and satisfied with the overall film, but the aesthetic was jarring. I'm not used to watching films so strange and exaggerated, and I wasn't sure how to react. With further reading and further background information, I am becoming a little connected with his works. Though on the surface it still gives me a creepy vibe.
While watching "Painter," it seems that the main character is struggling with his art as if it is bigger than he can handle, and he also seems to have split personalities. He is talking to himself in various voices that are difficult to understand all while using his over-sized hands to dip a giant paintbrush into buckets of paint. When he paints, theres no structure to it. Rather, he is slapping it on in seemingly random motions, and he has to do three of them. (This must be the part that's commenting on de Kooning's paintings and his abstract expressionist style.) As the film progresses, the artist becomes more and more childish. He's screaming about money, running around, creating more of a mess with his enormous materials than he is actually using them to create art, and after a long period of his nonsense, he begins to snore standing up. The next scene is where demolition arises as he takes scissors, and then a butcher, to his hand as he sobs. He whacks at his finger for what seems like hours until he is finally able to pull it off. As I watched this, I wondered if rather than killing himself, he's attempting to kill the direct cause of his suffering. The remaining of the piece carries on with him still painting, still making a mess, and putting himself inside of the colossal paint tubes that are labelled "BLACK," "RED," and "SHIT." (He really doesn't seem to like his work, or like himself as an artist, or even like himself at all.) He also meets with some fancy pants collectors and, before the film is over, the dealer puts his huge nose up against the painter's bare bottom, enjoying its aroma.
This piece exhibited time as real time, being almost 50 minutes of the paragraph above. There was no shortening nor increasing speed. It is very much an experimental film of its time, shaky camera and all. The use of space and movement was prominent in the piece. The artist's studio is set up so that the viewer sees the giant canvases side-by-side against the wall, the human-sized paint tubes, and the messy buckets of paint as he stabs them with paintbrushes almost taller than him. This portrayal of materials matched perfectly with the artist's attitude. Surrounded by these objects, he acted overwhelmed and was at a constant battle to keep control of his art. At times, he succumbed and allowed himself to be taken over by the tubes of paint. He also did a lot of pacing, spinning, jumping, standing on tables, and using his hands to not only create his own paintings, but to also destroy other works of art.
One element that stood out was the use of rhythm in the hand butchering scene. For a portion of this madness, every time the knife hit his hand the camera would cut to a close up, and every other time the camera would cut to a full a view of the hand. This went back and forth for a while, and the added butcher sound for every hit made it almost mesmerizing. Repetition is also in this scene, as well as throughout the film; repeating of jabbing the paintbrush into the bucket, and repeating of the forms he painted on the canvases. The film did have an overall unity of similar-nosed people and showing the motions of creating art, but not too much variety due to the prominent use of repetition. Yet the noses, the hands, and the materials in relation to the actors made for hilarious proportions.
"Painter" is almost 50 minutes long and is currently in the archives of the NY MoMa.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
On Horsfield: Busting the Tube
Horsfield's piece is a detailed and informative timeline of video art since artists and activists first began questioning the use of video in television and speaking out against conformity. In her paragraphs that cover early video practice, she points out that these activists were looking at video and the new equipment available as "a tool to document a new type of direct-from-the-scene reportage that was not manipulated, biased, or reshaped in any way to distort reality...'guerilla television'." Artists used video in a way that the media did not: to actually express issues surrounding the war and equality that were non-biased.
The evolution of video art shows artists' dedication to using it as a medium. In the beginning, the quality of video was scratchy, shaky, and only presented "reel time." With the tools that artists were able to acquire, there was no cutting, no software, only the time on the film strip. So, to not waste material, artists would make videos that matched the length of the reel. This is incredible to me because I've only seen maximum five minutes of these 20, 30, and 60 minute pieces. Not only because they are so long, but because there's typically not much going on but one short series of movements replayed over and over again (probably due to the lack of editing tools).
What arises eventually is the prevalence of non-profit artist spaces funded by foundations, state arts councils, and the National Endowment for the Arts. This expanded into the acceptance of video and performance studies into university curriculums. Although artists still could not afford the kind of equipment used in broadcast television, the fact that the medium was being noticed and supported must have been uplifting for these artists. And, as technology grew, so did the availability of editing software and fancier cameras.
Inevitably, artists were soon faced with more problems. With the explosion of AIDS came another fight against the media representation of the issue. Through video, artists and activists attempted to provide information, obtain research funds, and acquire medication. Soon enough, a "culture war" arose between right-wing politicians and the gay community. Funding for artists and non-profits were greatly hindered, but luckily technology was still advancing so artists were beginning to be able to afford even fancier equipment to keep fighting with their creativity through video. This stood out to me because it is yet another example of the government latching out against activism. And this idea is relative to #ReGeneration, a film that discusses the importance of voice, and the need for activism in order to sustain our environment, our society, and our culture --> a film worth seeing.
The evolution of video art shows artists' dedication to using it as a medium. In the beginning, the quality of video was scratchy, shaky, and only presented "reel time." With the tools that artists were able to acquire, there was no cutting, no software, only the time on the film strip. So, to not waste material, artists would make videos that matched the length of the reel. This is incredible to me because I've only seen maximum five minutes of these 20, 30, and 60 minute pieces. Not only because they are so long, but because there's typically not much going on but one short series of movements replayed over and over again (probably due to the lack of editing tools).
What arises eventually is the prevalence of non-profit artist spaces funded by foundations, state arts councils, and the National Endowment for the Arts. This expanded into the acceptance of video and performance studies into university curriculums. Although artists still could not afford the kind of equipment used in broadcast television, the fact that the medium was being noticed and supported must have been uplifting for these artists. And, as technology grew, so did the availability of editing software and fancier cameras.
Inevitably, artists were soon faced with more problems. With the explosion of AIDS came another fight against the media representation of the issue. Through video, artists and activists attempted to provide information, obtain research funds, and acquire medication. Soon enough, a "culture war" arose between right-wing politicians and the gay community. Funding for artists and non-profits were greatly hindered, but luckily technology was still advancing so artists were beginning to be able to afford even fancier equipment to keep fighting with their creativity through video. This stood out to me because it is yet another example of the government latching out against activism. And this idea is relative to #ReGeneration, a film that discusses the importance of voice, and the need for activism in order to sustain our environment, our society, and our culture --> a film worth seeing.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
On Camper On Brakhage: The Act of Seeing...
The idea that Brakhage wants to "make you see" is, to me, perfect for film. Camper discusses Brakhage's use of color, movement, space, emotions, editing to almost change the viewers' realities. The fact that Brakhage's films address the viewer as an individual rather than a group, and that it is best to watch them alone connects with how he actually films -- alone. Also the anal circumstances one should be in while watching a Brakhage film is fascinating to me. That means that he not only put together these wonderful visual experiences, but he did so with an idea of how they must be seen (in the dark with silence) for the most intense and awesome viewing experience.
I like that Brakhage does not believe in a "correct" exposure in film or photography. Dark images can be just as beautiful as light ones; it all depends on the surrounding environment or context they are placed in.
I also appreciate his wide variety of works. He seems to have no one "topic" or "style" he works with, but instead focuses on the universal thing we all do when interacting with visuals - the act of seeing.
The abstract way in which Brakhage's images and representations are so fragile become real when realizing that reality is also fragile. As Camper says, cathedrals that seem so solid today will not be around forever. Everything will eventually crumble and transform into something new.
I like that Brakhage does not believe in a "correct" exposure in film or photography. Dark images can be just as beautiful as light ones; it all depends on the surrounding environment or context they are placed in.
I also appreciate his wide variety of works. He seems to have no one "topic" or "style" he works with, but instead focuses on the universal thing we all do when interacting with visuals - the act of seeing.
The abstract way in which Brakhage's images and representations are so fragile become real when realizing that reality is also fragile. As Camper says, cathedrals that seem so solid today will not be around forever. Everything will eventually crumble and transform into something new.
On Tarchovsky: Time, rhythm and editing
Tarchovsky most definitely agrees with Dixon's belief that cinema these days are killing cinema of the past. T is all about the importance of time in cinema, long shots over short shots, all while keeping the rhythm of the film. He reminds me of a classical musician, over a mashup musical artist. He disagrees with montage entirely. While I appreciate the difficulty and precision of enjoyable long shots, I believe that there is a time and place, and the same with hyper-edited clusters of collage.
Referring to Pascal Aubier's one shot, ten minute film, he says, "You will remember that the film has no editing, no acting, and no decor. But the rhythm of the movement of time is there within the frame, as the sole organising force of the - quite complex - dramatic development." This is great, it of course takes unique skill to produce a shot such as this, but it takes a different kind of skill to produce something like Marclay's Telephones. I disagree that one is superior to the other. Again, there is a time and place for each. He says that montage cinema goes against the nature of cinema, but he also says "it is the film that is the work of art." Montage is a work of art. It's a Picasso collage with movement. The nature of cinema is dependent on time, but editing Psycho to be slowed to 24 hours long accentuates time. It really all depends on the eyes of the viewer.
I did enjoy reading his poetic explanations on how film is sculpted in time to produce visuals that do not defy nature, that flow as something would without the lens of a camera. Tarchovsky did succeed in opening my eyes to the gentle and continuous beauty of this certain kind of cinema.
Referring to Pascal Aubier's one shot, ten minute film, he says, "You will remember that the film has no editing, no acting, and no decor. But the rhythm of the movement of time is there within the frame, as the sole organising force of the - quite complex - dramatic development." This is great, it of course takes unique skill to produce a shot such as this, but it takes a different kind of skill to produce something like Marclay's Telephones. I disagree that one is superior to the other. Again, there is a time and place for each. He says that montage cinema goes against the nature of cinema, but he also says "it is the film that is the work of art." Montage is a work of art. It's a Picasso collage with movement. The nature of cinema is dependent on time, but editing Psycho to be slowed to 24 hours long accentuates time. It really all depends on the eyes of the viewer.
I did enjoy reading his poetic explanations on how film is sculpted in time to produce visuals that do not defy nature, that flow as something would without the lens of a camera. Tarchovsky did succeed in opening my eyes to the gentle and continuous beauty of this certain kind of cinema.
On Basilico: The Editor
This piece is great. Basilico really opened my eyes to the process and importance of editing (before I began playing with Final Cut Pro myself to realize it). I really enjoyed reading the first segment where he discusses gestural editing. He begins the essay by mentioning famous directors that people praise but do not realize the necessity of the Editor. But "The editor is in control of what you see." They are the ones that allow the movie to flow smoothly without hiccups that may disturb the viewer. They are the ones that perfect the movie so seamlessly that many people don't even know they exist.
Basilico also talks about Douglas Gordon's 24-Hour Psycho, where he plays with the idea of time by slowing Hitchcock's film to fill a 24 hour time slot. By doing this, Hitchcock's every cut and edit is revealed, showing how meticulously and beautifully he rendered the scenes. It's amazing what you can see when time is slowed down and I can't help but think of the phrase "stop and smell the roses." Gordon's revision really makes the hard work of the editor known.
Candice Breitz' Soliloquy Trilogy is a rendering of three famous actors from famous movies separated from their environments and placed on a black background where only their voices are heard. The point of this piece was to extract the actors' voices and what is found is that these main characters only speak in their movies for a fraction of the time that the movie runs. It's a pretty incredible realization, that just the actors' presence over what they say is enough to satisfy the movie and the viewers. And Breitz's editing is fantastic. To key out all of the busy background and isolate only the characters and their voices really shows what editing can be.
I also really enjoyed reading about (and watching) Christian Marclay's piece Telephones, where he juxtaposes scenes from a variety of movies that involve telephones ringing, people answering them, talking on them, and hanging up. What I appreciated about this piece was the patience required to mix all of these parts together in a way that flows as well as being entertaining and even pretty funny.
Basilico's essay touches on various editing techniques that are important in the world of film.
Basilico also talks about Douglas Gordon's 24-Hour Psycho, where he plays with the idea of time by slowing Hitchcock's film to fill a 24 hour time slot. By doing this, Hitchcock's every cut and edit is revealed, showing how meticulously and beautifully he rendered the scenes. It's amazing what you can see when time is slowed down and I can't help but think of the phrase "stop and smell the roses." Gordon's revision really makes the hard work of the editor known.
Candice Breitz' Soliloquy Trilogy is a rendering of three famous actors from famous movies separated from their environments and placed on a black background where only their voices are heard. The point of this piece was to extract the actors' voices and what is found is that these main characters only speak in their movies for a fraction of the time that the movie runs. It's a pretty incredible realization, that just the actors' presence over what they say is enough to satisfy the movie and the viewers. And Breitz's editing is fantastic. To key out all of the busy background and isolate only the characters and their voices really shows what editing can be.
I also really enjoyed reading about (and watching) Christian Marclay's piece Telephones, where he juxtaposes scenes from a variety of movies that involve telephones ringing, people answering them, talking on them, and hanging up. What I appreciated about this piece was the patience required to mix all of these parts together in a way that flows as well as being entertaining and even pretty funny.
Basilico's essay touches on various editing techniques that are important in the world of film.
On Dixon: Twenty-five Reasons Why It's All Over
Wheeler Winston Dixon (say that ten times fast) writes about the "death of cinema." It's understandable that when the theater goes from old school film strips with a scratchy sound and appearance to high definition, special effects induced ADD plots, that one would be critical of our society and where this field is heading. However, it in any way does not mean that the appreciation of that old school film is dead and gone forever.
He makes several good points regarding the cost of production nowadays and the constant remaking that takes barely any thought and is simply a money-maker... He talks about how everything is geared toward the teenage mind and black and white won't satisfy everyone so movies have to be in color... And he of course discusses the increasing use of special effects and boring, simple story lines. And he repeats these problems several times in his essay. Though these are solid arguments, he fails to acknowledge that there are people who do not enjoy these types of movies, and there are video and film screenings that are happening all the time. There are websites open to the public for those scratchy sound films that Dixon seems to think are dead. The movies that are the most advertised, most merchandised, and most expensive are the ones that are in the popular, money-making theaters such as Century, and I agree that those are sad places for film. But everything is about making money, that's what any big corporation cares about, and that's our society today. And that attitude affecting much, much more than cinema. It's nice that there are people like Dixon who argue against this fact and attempt to fight it. But, again, it does not mean that cinema is DEAD.
One more thing... he mentions that theaters now are no longer the same "social gathering places" that they were in the first half of the 1900s... "With the rise of television, families began to stay home. Whatever sense of community that had existed within the darkened space of the cinema auditorium was abolished." This is mainly because of the incredibly increased population since the 1900s. Let's be honest, there's not enough room for all of these people to gather socially in a dark theater. It sounds like it was a nice time and I unfortunately cannot relate because I was born wayyyy later, but there are just too many people now. I always find that it's nicer to be able to have the bathroom breaks and rewind and pause in the comfort of my home, not to mention the obnoxious people that go to theaters. Not that I don't enjoy going to the theaters (but I wouldn't if I had my own enormous screen and comfy theater chairs in my house), so when I go, I try to wait until after the movie has been out for a few weeks.
He makes several good points regarding the cost of production nowadays and the constant remaking that takes barely any thought and is simply a money-maker... He talks about how everything is geared toward the teenage mind and black and white won't satisfy everyone so movies have to be in color... And he of course discusses the increasing use of special effects and boring, simple story lines. And he repeats these problems several times in his essay. Though these are solid arguments, he fails to acknowledge that there are people who do not enjoy these types of movies, and there are video and film screenings that are happening all the time. There are websites open to the public for those scratchy sound films that Dixon seems to think are dead. The movies that are the most advertised, most merchandised, and most expensive are the ones that are in the popular, money-making theaters such as Century, and I agree that those are sad places for film. But everything is about making money, that's what any big corporation cares about, and that's our society today. And that attitude affecting much, much more than cinema. It's nice that there are people like Dixon who argue against this fact and attempt to fight it. But, again, it does not mean that cinema is DEAD.
One more thing... he mentions that theaters now are no longer the same "social gathering places" that they were in the first half of the 1900s... "With the rise of television, families began to stay home. Whatever sense of community that had existed within the darkened space of the cinema auditorium was abolished." This is mainly because of the incredibly increased population since the 1900s. Let's be honest, there's not enough room for all of these people to gather socially in a dark theater. It sounds like it was a nice time and I unfortunately cannot relate because I was born wayyyy later, but there are just too many people now. I always find that it's nicer to be able to have the bathroom breaks and rewind and pause in the comfort of my home, not to mention the obnoxious people that go to theaters. Not that I don't enjoy going to the theaters (but I wouldn't if I had my own enormous screen and comfy theater chairs in my house), so when I go, I try to wait until after the movie has been out for a few weeks.
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