Bradley Eros’s “e.p.i.c.” project paired Jeremy Slater and me. The concept was a private screening with an audience of one: “extreme private intimate cinema.” We arrange the single-person-audience screenings on a Sunday and on Tuesday.
Sauntered from the G train stop in Williamsburg towards Jeremy’s place, a loft space in the back of a gallery.
We’d been introduced to each other by my wife Murata over at Phill Niblock’s place, but I didn’t think we’d ever seen each other’s work. Actually, Jeremy had seen one of my films at Mike Park’s New Vision Cinema.
Jeremy does experimental music and sound and video. Works of his can be seen and heard at:
I was very intrigued by Jeremy’s former job working in the coloring department of a comic book publisher. Was it ever the case that some comic book colorist practiced secret subversion by making the colors wrong on purpose or something like that? Jeremy didn’t know of anything first hand. But he had once heard of a comic book colorist who discreetly snuck his girlfriend’s name into a comic book through the coloring process, much like Hirschfield’s “Nina.”
The works that Jeremy screened for me were in a roughly chronological order. The earliest piece being “FLIKERESQ” utilizing the optical properties of the camera lens to create out-of-focus “circles of confusion” that seemed like gently floating amoeba viewed through a microscope. We then looked at a version of the same piece with processed color, where Jeremy had “performed” the colors on an Amiga computer. What with the advances in technology Jeremy and I chatted about how people will nowadays pick up a laptop and download some VJ freeware that can do a gazillion fancy things to the image. But do they know anything of the archaic and primitive world that was the “Amiga computer?” And those technologies that seem of some distant past like half inch black-and-white video recorded reel-to-reel tape on Sony Portapak. Wire recording? 78 records? (we’ll come back to this later, I’m sure).
Other early pieces straddled the different modes of presentation. “MOTHERBOARD CITY” a video piece for “live” performance with music and visuals from when the term “VJ” was newly minted. And “( )” which took the form of different permutations, including an interactive CD-ROM, and an installation piece, using slabs of old, worn down barn-wood as foot-pedals to activate the sounds and visuals. The installation itself wasn’t there for us to see, just some photos. The foot-pedals had been ingeniously constructed by disassembling a computer keyboard and soldering a length wire from the keyboard’s circuit board to switches put under the pedals.
Next we looked at “AMB_1 (EV BLUR).” The image, a blur of shifting shapes, the lens racked completely out-of-focus, with bright dapples of reflected light and the movements within the blur. The image shifting and changing: momentary glints of brightness abstract enough to be barely recognizable as the sunlight reflected on car windows, shapeless dark blotches lurching horizontally across the image which only gave away their identity as people passing on the sidewalk by a subtle qualities of human movement.
The “EV” stood for “East Village” which tied the geographically ambiguous blur to a specificity of place, as if this were not just any blur we were seeing, but a specifically “East Village” blur. (Leaving us wondering how a Murray Hill blur or a Hell’s Kitchen blur would bring their own unique stamp of abstraction as distinct from an East Village blur). I later regretted that when it was my turn to show Jeremy some of my works it hadn’t occurred to me to show my little film portrait of “Avenue A without a lens.”
“MANIC CHINATOWN BICYCLE” also a single unedited sequence, speeds through the city streets as manically as the titles suggests, slowing down now and again, only when the traffic light turns red, to give a glimpse in the distance of the Empire State Building’s silvery illumination bright in the fading light.
We viewed two works that Jeremy shot in Japan “KANJISCROLL” a study of neon lights, and “UENO RAIN (ENJUKU)” a nocturnal study of an of steel shuttered storefronts below an elevated railroad. The soundtrack of the rain pinging on discarded empty beer cans while produced by natural happenstance seemed almost to be a percussive musical performance.
Two pieces produced at the Experimental Television Center in upstate New York, “SUSQUEHANNAICEFLOEWOBL (INCENSE AND TEA)” and “PACHINKOBWOBL (RESOLUTION)” used video processing with the Center’s old-school analog video processors. The “Wobulator” and the “Dave Jones colorizer.” Jeremy made a passing remark about the latter of these two pieces: “When we were producing this piece it seemed like the studio was haunted.” Ah, this was interesting. And indeed, the video’s filmy spider web strands of light against the darkness had an eerie sensation of an ectoplasmic apparition.
The briefest piece, “FOR LOVE LIGHT TREES,” four images. It made me think of the three-image films that Julius Ziz had programmed at Anthology back in the 1990s. Of course, this little four-image film had one-too-many images for the three-image trope, but a charming piece in all its acute brevity.
The last work screened by Jeremy was “WILLIAMSBURG<>D.U.M.B.O.” A nocturnal portrait of the two Brooklyn neighborhoods superimposed, but also an evocation of sensations and impressions of the rainy night shot in constant movement through the window of a car. The reflections of light in the glistening beads of rain on the glass of the car window: the image filled with a spangle of bright golden circles against the purple-tinged darkness of the city night. The landscape of industrial buildings and warehouses of Williamsburg and D.U.M.B.O. The sparkling patterns of golden light in the drops of rain seemed phantasmagoric will-o’-wisps. The two neighborhoods merged together through superimposition giving both environments a gauzy transparency.
Working in sound and performing music, Jeremy’s soundtracks were always carefully attuned to the visuals. I imagined how someone who has never made a film or video, and therefore having faced the challenges of using sound and music, might see these works and be puzzled as to why a musician would have soundtracks which were not more conspicuous? The use of sound was often understated, but the filmmaking experience and the first-hand challenges of using sound helped answer this question, even without asking Jeremy. Add a piece of music to an image and suddenly the beat of the performance usurps the film and overpowers the visual rhythms. The image, inexplicably sapped of its visual power, is just dancing to the music. There is a reason why Brakhage made so many films to be shown entirely silent. When the agenda of the piece calls for a visual rhythm that isn’t drowned out by the soundtrack, the alternative to going entirely silent is to use sound in a manner that is subtle and yields to the visuals just enough to let the two have an interplay without one or the other entirely taking over.
I was most intrigued by Jeremy’s works that used out-of-focus as the primary visual element. The earliest work was based around an out-of-focus point of light that became a circle of confusion, or several circles all uniform in size and sometimes overlapping one another like a Venn Diagram. The circle of confusion also brings out hidden qualities of the lens, small dark patches in the uniform circles reveal stray bits of dust on the surface of the glass that are mostly unseen, and usually regarded as imperfections when they are revealed. These spots, often unavoidable as blochy shadows in the circle of confusion, are co-opted into the piece as one of its visual components. The use of out-of-focus threaded its way through the works, starting with “FLIKERESQ”, and continuing with “AMB_1 (EV BLUR)” and again with the glittering spray of light reflected in the beads of rain in “WILLIAMSBURG<>D.U.M.B.O.” The camera’s lens, which ostensibly is engineered with great precision for the purpose of sharp and crisp in-focus images, abruptly commandeered for a wholly different visual agenda: the blur. While the visual ambiguity of the blurred image creates images which can be appreciated for their purely non-representational qualities, a certain tension can exist as well in how the image hovers somewhere between the ideal world of the formal and abstract composition, and the physical world of the concrete object. The blur is more like the shadow on the wall than the object itself, half-recognizable and evident as the image-of-the-thing rather than the-thing-itself.
While the out-of-focus image acted as recurring motif, Jeremy’s works also share an economy of imagery, from the single-image tableaux to the diminutive four-shot-film’s haiku-like economy of both imagery and running time. Even the rambling of a bicycle ride or the meandering through Brooklyn streets on a rainy night is utilized for works that neither ramble nor meander: each piece framed within its distinctive and intentionally restrictive palette of sounds and visuals. It was this quality, avoiding of a more collagist hodge-podge approach, that made the works feel connected with the tenets of concision often associated with the short poem.
Perhaps this has something to do with the choice in what I screened for Jeremy? Creating an “e.p.i.c.” dialogue of contrasts through the screenings of his pieces and my pieces by selecting the experimental documentaries with visuals that run amok with the use so many different visual techniques?
This post is happening much later than our actual meeting, so sorry for the belatedness! Nada is a lovely and illuminating figure. Her videos takes us on trips through histories of gender and hypnosis in cinema, as well as create a space which is still haunting in itself. We met on a hot summer afternoon at Pratt Institute, and had a lovely chat and screening of works. One thing I learned-is that as a video artist, I need to get out a lot more to keep up with all the amazing shows and information that Nada shared with me. The cross-section of archival material, language play and genre in film came up as themes that we both shared an interest in. Also, when oftentimes I feel quieted as the silent feminist in the the room-I felt comfortable and encouraged to explore and share ideas about female subjectivity and gender in our work. Nada grew up in the shadow of hypnotherapy, while I had an analyst’s couch and psychopharmacology in in my backyard, which points to our separate obsessions with hypnosis and the ethereal (in Nada’s videos) and psychoanalysis and the body in my own work. Nada comes out of a poetry and literary background, which keeps the conversation lively and the potential for experimentation across mediums open. Looking forward to seeing Nada’s work in the Projection series in the Fall!
Prior to meeting Peggy, I had heard of her, seen some of her video works from the past few years, and read an article about her in an old issue of Millenium Film Journal. From my reading, I knew that she used to shoot a lot of super8, which is the format I have been working a lot in recently. I hoped that I would get to see some of her earlier work and anticipated showing her some of my recent super8. I was especially interested in seeing Martina’s Playhouse, which apparently caused a bit of a scandal at the time and is one of her most well-known works.
When I arrived we chatted for a bit, about Bard, about film, about Nathaniel Dorsky, about cats, about Bushwick and Williamsburg and the changes she has seen around her “crash pad” off of the Bedford stop since she first moved there over a decade ago. Then we got down to business: First she showed me a quite unsettling film which involved some creepy (and soothing) Morton Feldman music and two found-footage sources; a strange 1970s telling of Adam and Eve in Eden (very reminiscent to me of some of the cheesy sets Captain Kirk and his landing party would explore in the original Star Trek series), and some very excited, very 90s virtual-reality demonstration footage by NASA. Peggy noted to me that these virtual reality tests often feature manicured (manufactured?) landscapes (I suppose since they are virtual they coudn’t really be wild or naturally occuring), gardens, as their virtual testing grounds.
We also watched her tribute to Bruce Connor ‘Bethlehem’ which I had missed this year at Views. This, like the first film I watched with her that evening, was a found footage film. The catch was: it was all footage that she ‘found’ in her own collection. The film was edited to present each of these moments from her body of work in fleeting succession, each shot barely on screen long enough to consider its source or original context. These moments, recontextualized by one another, seemed to be the pinnacle or climactic moments of hundreds different narratives strung together, and coupled with a very sentimental score, created for me very strange viewing experience that kept me at an uncertain but unwavering plateau – I was experiencing the emotions one reaches at a crucial moment in a film but these moments kept coming, each as ‘climatic’ and indeed as ‘anti-climatic’ as the next; as these images were all devoid of their contexts which presumably would have lent them greater emotional force.
Finally, after minor prodding, we watched her film Martina’s Playhouse that I am sure she has watched a bagillion times but I was very happy and very greatful to see this early work of hers. A work from a time when Peggy was shooting constantly, carrying her super8 (sound+picture) camera around constantly, and only working with footage that was ‘her own.’ She was against using found footage for her work at the time…ahh the naivite of youth. Her youthful stance kind of echoes my own and I am increasingly seeing the limitations of it. I won’t do any discussion of this film here since it has been much written about, for instance you can get a pretty good idea of it here: http://archive.sensesofcinema.com/contents/directors/03/ahwesh.html
The viewing of Matina’s playhouse led into a interesting discussion about the relationship of film and video – specifically video as a distribution method for works shot on film and what the effect of that is. For instance with Martina’s playhouse, Peggy mentioned that when doing the DVD stransfers she found herslf faced with a list of decisions she hadn’t really considered before: Decisions involving how much to sweeten the audio, or involving whether or not to correct a technical mistake which couldnt easily be fixed before digital methods, which could be fixed with the click of a mouse now, but which is part of the film that has been shown many times. Can it be too late to fix something like this? Dishonest? What are the philosophical flaws to say, someone like George Lucas’ approach which is to constantly re-edit and/or remaster his work? There must be some in between that is not so objectionable. This question, however, is not so easily answered.
Thinking of the transfer to video of a work calls to my mind Walter Benjamin’s essay The Task of the Translator. I think this ‘transfer’ from film to video must be much more than what the word suggests; a mindless task an example of which would be displacing the contents of one box to another or something equally inane. The transfer of a filmic work to video must attempt transcribe the details, and mood, the very essence of the piece into a new language where much of the original nuance may be lost. In literature, a translator of poetry would be assumed to be a poet themselves. We do not expect this of the telecine technician, but should we? Most of my masters are on video due to economic constraints, and I am usually quite pleased with the the color timer’s work; sometimes a shot which I had exposed incorrectly would come back to me beautiful and usable. If I was working before the days of video would I take the time to reprint that shot in the optical printer? Would my entire aesthetic be different, more sloppy?
Kind of an uncertain ending point for this post, but who needs traditional structural elements in this blog anyways.
PS – sorry for the lateness, I hope some of you are still reading this – I know I am still checking for responses.
Email correspondence between Rachelle Rahme and Victoria Keddie began on May 14, 2010. The transcription follows this introduction. This correspondence remains unedited, unabridged, and documents the process towards collaborative participation. Future arrangements are being made, and the dialogue continues.
Lili and I just met a couple of months ago. I was looking for a new roommate to share my apartment, and our good friend Katrin suggested that we would get along really well. Now we share the apartment in Westlake, Los Angeles by the historic MacArthur Park, and we have the best time! We already went on an awesome field trip together to see ancient Fossil waterfalls which she discovered a few years ago. We also both work with sculpture and film. I approach film from a background in sculpture, Lili comes from a background in film and is now working with sculpture and installation.
She showed me images of her thesis show, “Nocturne Etudes” at UCSD: A big ice-ball hanging from the gallery ceiling, melting into a large, towering clay bowl, surrounded by sounds from the depths of the pacific ocean. Two gigantic, almost parallel, but inward leaning screens with projected 16mm films of the surface of the ocean, one showing a still surface with light movements, the other one chopping waves. They lead as a corridor up to the ball of ice. The length of each progression, from dusk to darkness lasts 10 minutes.
The third piece which connects the other two, and relates to you as a viewer in the space, is a small video projected into a box.
It shows a dancer who dances a choreography, which, when I think about it a day later, strikes me as an interpretation of the classic riddle of the Sphinx (Question, Sphinx: What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?- Answer, Oedipus: Man, who crawls on all fours as a baby, walks on two feet as an adult, and then walks with a cane in old age.) When I ask Lili about it, it turns out that the reference is not intentional, but she does think about it as a life cycle. There’s an encounter with another person in the sequence, it’s not very obvious, the colors are dark, bathed in a dark blue light. The dancer seems to be filming herself while being filmed. She holds a small, silver super 8 camera . In the end she is standing upright, frozen by strobe light, then falls, and crashes motionless to the ground. The light changes to a warmer color. When I ask if the dancer dies in the end I get an ambiguous answer – yes, but she also becomes alive, and she gets to rest for the first time. It may just be the end of a turbulent time. Lili talks about this piece as the memory box. Studying in San Diego, she spent a lot of time at the ocean. Refrigerating the ice into a globe, layer by layer, was an attempt at keeping some of the experience with her.
From the ice-globe I can imagine an experience of depth and mass while walking on the beach. Apparently it was quite cold in the gallery space as well.
The sound in the gallery stems from the deep sea recordings of Lili’s friend, David Barclay, a marine biologist whom I met briefly when Lili first came to look at the apartment. I learn that his scientific background was also instrumental in casting the ball, calculating the volumes of water that could be poured incrementally to create a smooth surfaced sphere out of stacked sheets of ice. (Just freezing the entire amount of water in the mold would not result in an even sphere.)
It’s interesting to me that Lili, coming from a film background focuses on the most elementary physical aspect of sculpture; the mass and weight of a material, and its different elemental states. I notice, listening to our recorded conversation, that she knows the weight of the ice-globe, as well as the clay bowl: 800 and 300 pounds!!
Wandering through the show must be like an immersion into a spatial memory puzzle. I enjoy spending time putting the pieces together. Walking between the two screens that feature different wave patterns will give you a sense of vertigo. It strikes me that the vertigo effect of both walls is probably achieved by the sense of different patterns visually rubbing against each other an effect that has fascinated many artists, most notably in the sixties. Artists like Jesus Rafael Soto, Francois Morellet, or Bridget Riley explored the effect of the viewers movement confronted with regular or irregular patterns. Here you are walking through an aisle of two gigantic, but flat bodies of water. Lili mentioned that the show became a very playful experience, when visitors walked through it.
While talking about our work we found out that we’d both worked with theater groups for brief, but very influential periods of time. It somehow translated into our work.
There’s a lot more to find out, I’m looking forward to continuing the dialogue!
Alice and I know each other through a mutual friend. Alice has been living in California for over ten years as a practicing artist, working in sculpture. Her gallery Susanne Vielmetter is located in Culver City, Los Angeles. We live together as roommates in a building built from the 20’s. Gloria Swanson supposedly lived nearby way back in the day. This is the first time we’ve shown each other our work. I really enjoyed the exchange and found through our conversations that we several overlapping interests and inquiries…
Alice began in Sculpture making things that ‘function’ when she was attending school in Dusseldorf in the 90’s. While there, she made a few pieces that were exemplary of this idea, like a box with battery operated radio inside, on wheels and left in the hallway to be pushed around. The box made a public announcement and eventually was confiscated. Further along, she made more objects that seemed to have an apparent function, like a vacuum cleaner and a taco stand. Her objects are less about direct references and instead utilizes abstraction and geometry to draw out semantic associations.
After attending CalArts in the late nineties, Alice was informed by phenomenological ideas, such as investigating the direct experience of sculpture in its physical presence as you understand something directly by experiencing height, depth, width and movement. The theatricality of an object became a point of investigation. Her taco stand had screens that could be moved and would interrupt your path of vision.
She had a show with drawings of owls and sculptures that she made at Susanne Vielmetter. Alice has spoken to me on several occasions about birds – Her pet cockatiel, Anton has been with her for ten years. In her childhood, she had a pet crow that travelled with her across Germany. Her interest in birds is deeply personal and she has an unusual ability to communicate with them. It is no wonder then, that when she put the drawings of the owls side by side, she thought of the owls as actors looking at each other. In the show, the drawings were accompanied by a large sculpture with several hexagons. The surface of the sculpture was reflective, so you could see yourself and the owls in the reflection of the sculpture. In our conversation, she had talked about ‘looking through’ and ‘dissolving’ as an influence in some of her collages and objects. This ‘looking through’ continues not only in the show with the drawings, but extends into her film.
She told me about an epiphany she had on a trip to Mono Lake that involved a synesthetic experience while driving and listening to the radio. She saw some homemade advertisements along the road and heard sounds from the radio in between the advertisements. She had an image of each note being a color circle. After that she wanted to make a film in which the parts of the film would be intersected by these circles.
Shortly after, she made a film called Owl Society .I’d like to highlight the Owl Society because this is the first film that she made. The film involves characters wearing masks, interacting each other while climbing the branches of an old tree. These characters were models, and would exhibit their costumes as the fashion of the day. Formally the film has a very beautiful composition. With the forest as a backdrop, three characters wearing geometric costumes while holding masks in front of their faces, position themselves in the space of the frame. As the film unfolds, the characters recite lines from various plays, such as Genet’s, “The Maids”, David Raabe’s “In the Boom Boom Room”, Brecht’s “City of Mahagonny”, etc. Owl Society has very little editing in it, the image is predominantly a single shot, with the characters entering and exiting the frame to define a mise-en-scene. Occasionally the camera would zoom into the sculpture that resembled a wall, but when taken apart, it would seem like tires or semi circles planted in the environment. The sculpture is comprised of several discs. How it is used as a partition in the film reminds me of her previous investigation to ‘look through’. For me, having seen her body of sculptural work prior, I can’t help but understand the central focus of the sculpture. The characters importance were reduced, and remained at the periphery for me.
She manages to take an object, that she transplants from the physical world (which the actual sculpture inhabits) and ascribe for it a function in Owl Society. The geometry of the sculpture and costumes are defined by the location in which she has placed them, and the function she has designated for them. Organic shapes don’t seem to compete with the geometric shapes; rather, they generate a language for juxtaposing the fundamental shapes in sculpture with the natural. This dichotomy suggests a window into lives of a primitive tribe, and allows us to step outside of the modern day, while still applying the modern to the shapes around the characters. The semi circles, diamonds, squares, and triangles hold a stance that reminds me of civilization, but is at the same time very removed from it, because all we can really learn about the culture of this Society, is from their clothes and the sculpture. Strangely the sculpture seems to be a companion to these characters, or Owls. As they investigate, take it apart, and let it just be a sculpture, their actions don’t pin down what the sculpture is or does. I don’t find myself thinking about a specific use for the sculpture, in fact, seeing what the Owls do with and around the sculpture allows me to think of it’s many various uses, both decorative and functional.
It is also interesting to me that Alice chose to use the sculpture where the ‘cut’ happens. By zooming in and out of the sculpture, condensing the size of the sculpture from many discs to just one or a few discs, she gives a reminder that this is what anchors our relationship to the Owl Society.
Alice has made a film where she imposed several perimeters. The static shot, emphasizing the sculpture as opposed to the characters, minimal edit on the sculpture. These techniques, however, are not dogmatic. I am still able to concentrate on what goes on in the film, with the rules as a way to define and enhance my understanding of this object, instead of restricting me to thinking how it’s used in the film.
I enjoy what Alice makes and how her sculpture is applied in the film. She finds a fluid way to combine the object and moving image, letting the language of each genre inform the other easily. This shift from the world of physical objects around us to how it operates in a film, does not illustrate and confine the purpose of what she makes, but rather opens up alternative ways for thinking how and why it is made, or used. When the sculpture returns to the gallery, the object can still exist on its own, not necessarily hinging on the life it had in the film as a prop. My impulse is to return to the theatrical notion of the object, but at the end of the day, I find that it’s good enough to follow her imagination, roll with her owls showing off their fashion, and maybe go to the gallery to see the sculpture, maybe not. Her sense of humor and playfulness sustains my interest, and I am compelled by the balance she has found – beginning as a sculptor and now accessing the world of film. Both ways, separate and simultaneous, she returns to this original idea of ‘function’ that is an intriguing and logical vehicle for orbiting these two worlds.
Following an intimate evening with Lary Seven I have decided that, in the spirit of his artistic sensibility, the most appropriate response is via USPS.
Expect postal indepth commentary,
Watching David’s work “Sotto Voce” felt like watching the sky at twilight on a stormy day during the fall, when a hail storm is about to break, and the winds are so strong that it reconfigures the clouds. It also made me feel peaceful and engaged—wanting to watch more and with the desire of seeing it on a large-scale and screened with a high contrasted luminosity. The pictorial sensibility is clearly evident and the work is masterfully executed, masking the craft, the source, and the process. I could think of so many methods, techniques, and possible sources for this piece, but at the end any of these thoughts became totally irrelevant because the hermitic characteristic of the work and its’ sublime imagery was its strength. One thought was Gerhard Richter gray paintings. Another one was that individual frames gave me the felling of zooming into the cloudy section of Turner’s paintings. David seems focused on welcoming surprises that emerge out of evolving processes where in fact his own limitations are dictating results and shaping his aesthetics. Pixelation, rawness, and chroma-saturation are always present. The work’s gamma is subdue by high black and white contrasts limiting the color palette to a predominant gray, where the actual white and black colors seem to be negotiating for attention. As the piece unfolds a subliminal flicker softly emerges imprinting the retina with a delicacy of touch—as a soft gesture, that if not paid attention to, could be easily missed. Due to the nature of our studio visit I felt inspired by David’s work and curious to see more of it. I would like to know more to understand his work in its’ full complexity and to define our common interests. Our conversation was pleasant and if it wasn’t because I had to go to Flushing Ave. to rent a truck hours would have flown by. There was so much to talk about and very little territory covered. However, there seemed to be many areas of common interest. Congratulations David for your wonderful work and thanks Bradley for the introduction…..
Richard Garet 05/20/2010
an EPIC time with Marie…
I had been wandering around the city all day in the rain since I planned all of my city errands into one day down from upstate’s Hudson NY. It was a terrifically bad day to walk around town…battling wind and rain, wet and cold…but at least it was not sunny and hot! Seriously.
Finally it was time to arrive at Marie’s place. I had no phone number so I hoped I had really written the directions down correctly or else I’d really be all wet.
I encountered a house with the upstairs windows broken and falling out and the front stoop crammed with plastic Mother Mary’s statues wrapped in more plastic. At first I thought this was Marie’s house as I couldn’t see the house number but turns out it is her neighbor. She had a very nice well kept house next door looking like a wonderful mix of 60s architecture row house with 70s fake side paneling and inside there was the fake wood paneling and linoleum…
When Marie opened the door took me upstairs she could tell I needed new socks which she produced so quickly it was like magic! So I put my unusually large feet into her rather small sized socks, but they felt great…and there began our exchange!
I had prepared a variety of things I believed would help facilitate the idea of an extremely private intimate cinema…I actually didn’t even remember to show her one of the more relevant to that topic treats…some small film strips with a small slide viewer to closely intimately look at film…I got distracted looking at all the wonderful pictures, cut outs, toys and trinkets she had around her studio. I did give her my glitter bone and some pictures of a spirit I had captured on photo paper…and then she told me many great stories about Loula Nasaroff. She gave me a post card of her…which I saw her take out of drawer with many other post cards stuffed into it…post card collections!! I love them! Then, I saw the first minutes of the Genesis P-Orridge Lady Jaye portrait, story, epic…which was enchanting and left me hotly wanting more…she has a lot to sort through…it is exciting…I know it will be incredible…
She also showed me Slap the Gondola which I had not seen before…and I have been thinking about it ever since! I love sloppy fish slapping and dresses and big gondolas and party dresses and mermen and lipstick!!! Oh and the big fish creature wobbling on deck! Everyone involved in that was amazing….quite inspiring.
Then onto some of my shorts mostly work in progress’s that I showed and I benefited a lot from her feedback…It’s all about feeding the trashy frenzy…keeping trash alive…she didnt say that exactly but that is what I came away with!
and basically having a good time which we certainly did…and she gave me chocolate…and she wears glitter which was all over me from what I have been doing too!
Yes! thank you Bradley for a great time!
Glitter and chocolate in our blood forever!