Posts Tagged Sandy Pool
There is an hour long version of just me at 16 and school friends and family…
These thumbnails are a drag
I had no idea that youtube had a male point of view
If you want to see the bigger facebookmix
Go to this link
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1987, Abstract Art, Adam Russell Hunter, Art Project, artlocal21, Brandon Cronenberg, Catherine Porter, Cry Freedom, Dan Augustino, Daphne, David Cronenberg, Erica, Ghost Busters, grade 11 art project, Highschool, John Lennon, Josh, Lisa Mathews, Martha Corcoron, Massacre of the Innocence, Michael Snow, Noelle Man, North Toronto Collegiate Institute, Scott Baines, Silent Movies, Stephen Biko, Tanya, Tara Jung, The Art of Non-Verbal Language, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Video Art, You tube, Zak Cross
You were working next door to the party I was leaving, wearing a tuque and a balmer jacket and a red skirt with red heels, I guess like Johnny Depp in that movie with Javier Bardem, I remember taking note, you turned around from what may have been the outdoor arcade game, you had a beard and I said “oh do you work hear?” and you said “Yeah” and I said “oh good”. I was happy and smiled with some perspective on my profile, usually it’s just from my eyes.
I was circling around you, you in a white t-shirt maybe without the beard I couldn’t tell, my hand was running along your stomach as I walked around you, like we were dancing. You were smiling too.
You in profile with the beard, you said “I want to fuck you.”
There was an apartment at some point and my mother was visiting.
Afterward there was the train ride with another older man, completely naked with tattoos, I wish I could remember the dialogue, a dark cabin that looked like a modern small sized bedroom traveling the mountain side at first there was a cage and then not, it wasn’t working very well but we were still ok what was said was something, something fast and then I was close up, an inch away, into the face of another perhaps or the same, eyes with cataracts and a sharp nose smile.
At least this time you weren’t wearing your Pokemon amulet around your neck, in that dream I couldn’t get it off.
This excellent film that brought the viewers, Carolyn Zeifman, Documentary Filmmaker and wife of Fimmaker David Cronenberg, and I, as well as a full theatre, into Louis Bourgeois` world , was made in 2008 by Marion Cajori and Amei Wallach, and it ran 99 minutes.The Miles Nadal Jewish Community Centre Al Green Theatre is a fantastic theatre to see an art film. One of the makers was present for the introduction, in a great pair of red shoes, and is very accomplished in her own right having written eight novels and two essays and managed to interview this very edgy tempermental sculptor, installation artist, genius who almost smashed a peice of pottery in her presence.
The opening of this film reminded me of the film Spider, ironically since she is probably most famous for her giant metal spider sculptures, Care saw one at the Tate Modern, the music, the brick, the broken glass and then it became a documentrary.
Well I suppose the spider is her mother, the mistress is well her father`s mistress of course and the tangerine is a sculpture of her that her father would cut out at the dinner table of her without a penis.
This film is fantasitc as is this 98 year old artist. She is an inspiration. What a title.
Born in France in 1911 obvioulsy to rich bourgeois parents, abandonned by her mother, obsessed with the seamstress (the seamstress`s room where sex was learned about) the mistress, meant to be her governess, and her father. She went to art shcool in France and met her husband, Arthur Goldwater a primative art historian who took her to New York. They had three sons and she went to the roof top and began to scuplt. She had tried painting in France in a studio there with her contemporaries and in New York found her way to deal with her anger and rage and that was to sculpt.
She was an ignored artist for years, always going against the trend of the time and one of the only women artists in rooms full of men, Breton, Duchamp, Masson, ” who she was very close to but rejected violently perhaps because they were like her father”.
There was a resurgance of interest in Bourgeios’ work by feminists in the 1970`s. Specifically the Gorilla Girls say that although Bourgeios claims to be an artist before a femminist, “Louise is our icon none-the-less”.
Once her husband died, who she said was like her mother, her brain, and not her father, her heart, she found Jerry, a man much, much younger than her, the age of her sons and who looks like her sons, who was somehow like her governess, her fathers mistress, and also like her father and it released something in her so that she could do her best and happiest 25 years of work.
Her art is very sexual , very passionate and very angry at times, as is she. To see her in her pink faux fur coat and sequinned hat walking around her installation entitled “The Child’s bedroom” or was it “the red room” with mirrors and a bed and hands and lamps. (no question mark yet sorry) is a beautiful very French thing.
She could “ put out an amazing amount of psychic energy, unlike most people, but she could also be a psychic vampire if you let her, if you didn`t leave her, I called her my french mistress“ one of her curator`s and agent said. She would often have fits and smash her pottery. Better to “smash her sculpture“ then people, she said. She smashed one that took her 25 years to put together again. An Upright figure with utters coming out of it’s pelvis, maybe 8 facing upwards.
There is a great picture of her holding a giant penius that she sculpted. She continuously fondles and feels things as she speaks throughout the film. She is quite feminine and masculine.
She still lives in Brooklyn and has people over on Sundays to discuss art and life, I wouldn’t have minded a bit of her there or on the street but then at 98 she’s on the street in the studio with the film crew. An absolutely facinating woman with a direct connection to her unconscious, she ” is unconscious”.
Abstract Art, Al Green Theatre, Art History, Arthur Goldwater, artist, artlocal21, Breton, Carloyn Zeifman, Caroline Blakiston, David Cronenberg, Duchamp, femminist, film festival, Gorilla Girls, Ichiyo Nagata, Installation Art, Louise Bourgeois, Margaret Hindson, Masson, Miles Nadal JCC, New York, Paris, Potter, Pottery, Reel Artists Film Festival, sculptor, Sculpture, Tate Modern, The Mistress, The Spider, The Tangerine, Toronto, women artists
Walking in a few minutes late it felt like I was entering a futurist opera. Pitch black, thirty or so silouetted chairs and people infront of the fuzzy purple screen, the opera blaring. The feeling was intense. This was his opening film, not more than 10 minutes, and I loved it. The old style stereo I know so well mixed with humourous still photos, when I say still I mean not a camera panning, of flowers and waves. I felt it was an ode to the experiment in panning from the 60`s and the moving waves might have been at the end of Wavelength had it been made today. This was shot at a cottage and the movement and the still flowers reminded me of a man and woman from the mans perspective. It was poignant because of this and the out of focus attempts to turn the dial filmed me with feelings and emotions thinking of my grandfather and father.
“Any Complaints“ Mr Snow asked, hands in his pockets sheepishly smiling at the end of the two films. The second one being Reverberlin.
This was an hour long filmed concert inpart o rin whole in Berlin, that is the question I would ask now, with Snow at the piano and one of his band members playing what sounded like a diggery do with his mouth only and the other member playing the saxophone. “We`ve played together for 20 years,“ Snow told the audience and it showed. The music was unsycopated Jazz and the film was quite distorted and unsyncopated (or not in sync) itself. However the music playing was always with the appropriate instrument.
It was difficult to be forced to watch the mouth of the diggerydo man in such close up. At times it seemed he was ejaculating, at times he seemed angry and it was at times frightening, his mouth and jagged teeth toughing the microphone, his head being distorted by the camera, pulling him apart.
The saxophone player was blurred with the background and the lights behind him, the effect was like a japanese painting perhaps and was beautiful to look at, at times.
Once the viewer accepted being in this world and mostly in the face of this white bearded diggery do man it was a fate one accepted but not without an uncomfortable fight. One`s life strangely flashing before one`s eyes, Anne Francis, writer, editor, television maker, pointed out.
Snow`s piano playing was impressive and his style very unique. I did miss the blurring of reality or more the close ups that disintegrated reality and the distorions for example the ones at the end of the concert, it did feel as if they were in a recording studio in the basment and in Snows house and then to see them stand up and take a bow on a stage was very interesting and their bodies digitized outwards from their stomachs, it made the viewer unsure as to weather or not that was a video mistake at first but then it became clear it was on purpose, just.
During the Q and A Snow mentioned something interesting about sound and video, that they were connected with video in a way they aren`t connected in film.
“Any complaints?“ Snow so charming asks. (My question mark is working now, out of French mode I guess, do they not ask questions in France?) Yes Susan Harris, environmentally conscious fashion designer extrodinaire, it was cute and funny.
No Mr. Snow, you are a gentleman and that film was something no woman would make, however, we certainly learnt about men from the experience. And the subconscious interplay, male and female, within the audience had many levels to it that are still dawning on me, right Sue how about you?
Again how did he do it?
Grandma`s Nephew may be next...
The Michael Snow retrospective continues on at The Power Plant until March 7th.
My first time seeing this amazing experimental film from Michael Snow made in 1967 was last night at the Drake Underground hosted by the PowerPlant and Elizabeth Legge the scholar, Art Historian, Professor at University of Toronto and author, who wrote a beautiful book on this film, which I look forward to reading. The room was packed and it didn’t look like I would get a seat.
“I can’t see in the dark”, Eric Woodley said, film and theatre composer and art critic for Canandian Art, as he walked up to me standing on the stairs, which of course hit me with all of it’s meaning during the film when I was sitting in front about five feet away from the screen. An excellent venue for this and the opening film, 10 minutes, an experiment in panning. The stereo, the bed, the discussion, the woman on the phone, the the flash of her naked at the end…
Wavelength, 45 minutes, took me on a journey through to the open window. Professor Legge gave a very interesting inspiring brief lecture at the beginning comparing cinema to great works of literature and french theory and there was a lovely Q and A at the end on a lovely sofa…I had the need to focus on the open window as the camera, “this film is all hand made” Snow told the audience, zooms slowly from one corner into, well “I don’t want to give away the ending”, said Legge, but I will.
I found myself completely enthralled and had a very personal experience with this film and an epiphany at the very end. It was right in front of my eyes, the damage and that it’s for “dissemination and teaching” Legge said. “Not the graceful introduction and transition I was hoping for,” Katie Crisp, curator for the Power Plant, said gracefully transitioning from the film to the Q and A. Just as the film jumps, the superimposed image, at the end to take you into the final image…
Filmaker David Cronenberg and Documentary Filmaker Carolyn Zeifman wanted to be there but they were dealing with a new situation with his new film in the works, one of many, about Freud and Jung and Sabina Spielrein, from the book given to him by me, A Most Dangerous Method, and then the play he found The Talking Cure, and it is fascinating, which now has Viggo to play Freud which is very exciting. He saw Wavelengths‘ debut at the Issac Gallery and “remembers it as if it were yesterday.”
Micheal Snow lived on our street growing up as a child and my first and only 10minute video from high school entitled “The Art of Non-Verbal Language” was I see now an ode to him.
Two men move a piece of furniture into the room.
The zoom begins.
The focus on the open window.
A man and a woman walk into the room.
The woman closes the window, I for a moment was quite claustrophobic until the man put on strawberry fields and then and only then could I be somewhat incarcerated, and enjoy looking around, reminded of Foucault here, Madness and Civilization, with the two people in the room and forget eventually about the window being closed, I did have to check it at one point and was nonchalantly pleased that there was a crack left open.
We can’t just live outside forever can we?
This film made me aware of the exploration available to us in film regarding architecture and distance and art and nature and the most interesting of all human nature.
The yellow chair Mr Snow painted, also a sculptor at that time, like many abstract art pieces were perhaps later coloured or around that time as well, was comforting until it became clear that the large wooden handsome desk chair was turned out, as well one can’t see in the bright. The white outs were comforting but not the faded white outs. The richness of colour was always welcoming and wanted, the turned out desk chair was worrying and reminded me of the Martin Kippenberger furniture exhibit based on Kafkas Amerika, that was on at the MOMA in May last year, the office furniture, and the large window panes with the old writing out the windows. I found myself at times wanting to read the writing, some 1950’s writing or even earlier I’m sure. I would have to see the film again and take note of where that was exactly.
This sense of the power dynamic is tied to the desk and chair and yellow chair, the one with out the power sits there but the larger chair is turned out which is kind of distressing. I hate a chair turned out empty from a desk, I always turn it back and that desk, I have one just like it in my very own middle room, and then the man with the beard comes in shot maybe and dies and maybe he had the power and you are sad he is going and finally he is gone and then you can focus on sitting in the yellow chair. I thought of my older daughter here and at the beginning and what you might think about with out him there or without the power there. It hit me right at the base of my scull. And the sounds the drone also factory like in some ways and the buses and the workers but in the room it is art and a factory.
The woman in the fur coat comes in, who is gorgeous and also looks like a man and calls a man and says there is a man dead on the floor and he has to come and take care of it. And then her ghostly image replayed and she has passed too. You realize here how amazing a person is and what they can bring when it is a close up rather than every one so far away.
One does also deal with the closed window, the forced power dynamic and death, by looking at the pictures on the wall and trying to decipher what they are of. When it goes above the yellow chair and onward, I don’t want to spoil the ending…I thought it was a poorly done landscape painting for the longest time but it turns out its a beautiful photograph, and the two at the top like Hiroshima maybe…what was the other one?
The quality of print was excellent,Professor Legge mentioned on the sofa, the grainy pink shadows so beautiful. I thought of closeness and my youngest daughter and wanted to go there instead and fought until the superimposed jump into the water and I dove in…well was hit with it really but first, the waves did ” look like clouds”, as Dennis Reid, head of Canadian art at the AGO and professor of Canadian art at the University of Toronto, mentioned. I saw faces and animal shapes emerging and then the “epiphany”, that someone mentioned from the audience which hit the nail right on the head so to speak, that is, foreground, then to the distance and then back and hit with the truth right in front of my face. “Everytime,” Professor Reid said when I turned to look at him. So now I have to see it again, it must be a different epiphany everytime right??
How did he do it?
A Most Dangerous Method, Aaron Woodley, Abstract Art, Adam Russell Hunter, AGO, Amy Cormier, Art History, artlocal21, Bertrand Russell, Brandon Cronenberg, British, Caitlin Cronenberg, Canadian Art, Carl Jung, Caroline Blakiston, Caroline Waterlow, Carolyn Zeifman, Colleen Hixenbaugh, Dance, David Cronenberg, Denise Cronenberg, Dennis Reid, Elizabeth Legge, Eric Woodley, Erin Parton, Experimental Film, Fashion, film, Food, Humber School for Writer’s, Jeffery Nesker, Jennifer Evans, Johanna Reynolds, Katherine Mulherin Gallery, Katie Crisp, Lisa Deanne Smith, Literature, Madness and Civilization, Martin Kippenberger, Melanie Janisse, Meredith Woodley, Michael Snow, Michel Foucault, MOMA, Music, Nancy Friedland, New York, OCAD, P.G. Tarr, Painting, Photography, Ron Sexsmith, Russell Hunter, Ryerson, Sabina Spielrein, script doctor, Sigmund Freud, Sreenplay, Stephen Bulgar Gallery, Stephen Zeifman, Stewart Jones, Susan Harris, Susan Sontag, Textiles, The Drake Underground, The Gladstone Hotel, The Power Plant, The Talking Cure, The White Squirrel, Toronto, U of T, Video Art, Viggo Mortensen, Vladimir Spicanovic, Wavelength, Wendy Schor-Haim, Zachary Kellum, Zoots