Showing posts with label fairytale. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fairytale. Show all posts

Monday, October 17, 2011

A Dance Videopoem: Shadow Cave



direct link: Shadow Cave.  [The video is subtitled, so you can read along if you like, or have Google automatically translate the text into one of 25 languages. The option appears after you press play. If the cc in the play bar is red, the subtitle track is on; if black, it's not. Mouse click to toggle. Click on this image to see the steps to opening the subtitle/caption file:


This videopoem is a postmodern fairy tale. Sort of Jungian. Integrating the shadow into the self. I re-wrote a piece I'd written many years ago of an inner journey though a land of strange figures representing repressed selves.

And I did everything in this video. What a lot of work! Shot the clips with a tripod. Edited the footage so many times that it's like a Samurai sword, beaten, and wrapped onto itself, over and over again. At one point I so overloaded my video editing software that it crashed every few minutes. But I pushed it, until the effects I was seeking emerged.

That she becomes quite pixelated in it is fine - it's all reflection, image, celluloid, burned light, a digitally composed moving image.

As an artist, I cannot help but think of the screen as a canvas, and so I expect that some of the all-over appearance is influenced by Color Field Painting, like a Larry Poons, has an abstract art quality to it. Meaning, while there were probably 50 cuts, I didn't do any zooming or duplicating or other fascinating video possibilities.

Also the tribal influence is strong. That's my childhood in an African jungle in Zambia, it comes out from time to time. This is the first video that I've attempted to create a sound track for. I used rattles, a singing bowl, a bell, two different drums. Since it's all quite primitive, the story, the dance, even the reading has a colloquial quality to it, I wasn't too worried about melody. My postmodern fairytale needed a strange and primitive soundscape, which it certainly has. ::smiles::

The dance footage was shot for my forthcoming videopoem, a triptych, Tangled Garden. (Which I have been working on for 5 months and hopefully will one day finish.) But, see, I had this abstract pastel clip that emerged from another project... oh, background, I thought, so went looking among my clips for something that might work with it. That's how it goes...






I enjoy the stills, too. Crazy, how'd I create those scenes? Seriously, it's like it creates itself. Magic behind and magic in front. Movie magic, that is!


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Sunday, January 31, 2010

Perigee Moon

From Perigee Moon

Metamorphosis Under the Moon, 2010, 28" x 22", 71cm x 56cm, oil pastel, oil paint pen on paper. Click image for larger.

Perigee Moon

Under the full moon,
she mutates.

Her arms, bone
twigs become wing feathers.

Red hair flaming in the white light.

A riptide of ocean
in our blood
pulls to the surface,
this night of imaginings.

Moonlight glosses the lake.

The white muse moon pours magic.

Under the full moon we see
in the dark, our dreaming eyes open.

Pastel on black paper, my fingers dance.

The women sculpt each other.

A creatrix is born.

She is a wild woman.
In the circle of wild women.
In the wilds, where we transform.

Among the night animals,
owl, wolf, jaguar,
where our breath roars,
whispers, sings,
where our visions
transform us.

_
Pastel sketch done in a DanceOurWayHome 'Dreaming in the Dark' session yesterday afternoon, January 30th. Poem written today. The perigee moon this year was very bright; we saw it under clear skies.

February 14th, update: Last night I wrote the poem on the pastel with a Sharpie paint pen that malfunctioned - splats! and so dipped the pen into deliberate splats on another sheet of paper and wrote the poem. Oddly, the words seem scratched on with a feather, perhaps dipped in a splat of white moonlight... :)


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Thursday, January 28, 2010

A Snow Globe

The landscape, a white squall while I walk through it. Snow thick as confetti. The Ice Queen married her King and the atmosphere swirled in celebration. My eyelids sting with windburn as their chariot rises into the north wind. After I found the street again it seemed the landscape between the hills had been shaken like a snow globe. Blue, blue sky, sunny, no wind.


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Woman with Flowers 7.1

(7th sketch in series, first iteration of this one) Woman with Flowers  Flowers, props  upholding the woman. The flowers, fragrant, imaginar...