In September I did a workshop with Julie Tolentino and Ron Athey. This was my evidence from the whole affair.
In September I did a workshop with Julie Tolentino and Ron Athey. This was my evidence from the whole affair.
Saturday, 8 January 2011
Workshop with incredible artists - back to the body (under duress?)
In September I did a workshop with Julie Tolentino and Ron Athey. This was my evidence from the whole affair.
Bee-cause we shouldn't forget
The first video is something I was working on as part of an exhibition for silent city. I was interested in CCD, since a 1/3rd of Bee's were dying and wanted to capture it. It was a foolhardy attempt with a hammer.
And the second one, well you shall see.
All scribbles still.
And the second one, well you shall see.
All scribbles still.
Scribble of Tea
I decided to start scribbling away with film edits. This is something I'm working on (with pleanty of cups of tea) it's no where finished, and it's only a repeatative strain.. but sometimes that's the best place to be.
Bee
I’ve been working on a few films. One is about Bee’s. Always the bloody bees. I worked out some way of making one bee in colour while it wanders aimlessly around the dead others. It’s a graveyard on a minute scale. It flutters and fidgets around it’s still and solem friends.Performance and some scribbles.
As always a few things floating around the back of my brain somewhere between the tip of my tongue and my throat.
I was hoping to create a huge version of the plastic dinosaurs my brother used to collect and I used to feed.
Act I:
Dinosaurs and Playdough – an explanation.
When I think about the dinosaurs, they fill me with such glee. Maracas, I say. Maracas. I never cared for their dietary requirements – how can plastic have a suggested nutritional intake?
But still, bright red balls of flesh, delicious and pushed down the throat. Until it dries out and tingles upon the lips.
My words splutter out (excrement – word vomit) just vomit itself.
And it still has no where to go. So it flakes and hardens, along the gullet. If you pick them up, they shake (that’s the unfortunate truth to the whole occasion)
Act II:
Hearts. Sow, inside out. Sucking the juice from Squid.
(A defense) In a tin.
I packed them in a tin, for you to pull out on the right occasion.
I was hoping to create a huge version of the plastic dinosaurs my brother used to collect and I used to feed.
Act I:
Dinosaurs and Playdough – an explanation.
When I think about the dinosaurs, they fill me with such glee. Maracas, I say. Maracas. I never cared for their dietary requirements – how can plastic have a suggested nutritional intake?
But still, bright red balls of flesh, delicious and pushed down the throat. Until it dries out and tingles upon the lips.
My words splutter out (excrement – word vomit) just vomit itself.
And it still has no where to go. So it flakes and hardens, along the gullet. If you pick them up, they shake (that’s the unfortunate truth to the whole occasion)
Act II:
Hearts. Sow, inside out. Sucking the juice from Squid.
(A defense) In a tin.
I packed them in a tin, for you to pull out on the right occasion.
Old Thoughts from Old Exhibitions (and I'm sorry I forgot the names - or misplaced them)
His fleece was white as snow
I don’t even know if it was a sheep or a goat as a head bucked it away. The usual 14 inch telly, But there on all fours she is, with her nipples out ready. And he suckles, the sound is the most evident thing. The constant beat of his head against her breast – is there even milk in his breast, or is she like an empty rubber teat. I forgot to say, the real thing, the real reason it’s worth watching. Is this goat’s mother is not a goat, or a sheep, she is a real woman. Taking over the place as he violently grasps her breasts. She looks lovingly, tender, she is goat. He is child. She kisses him and nuzzles his head, before buckng him away later. I say the goat/the sheep is a he, but really it could as well as easily been a she.. Her head, the woman/mother/ewe’s head, is out of shot (just) it only appears when she puts her lips to the child’s head, the little lamb.
And then we have a fight against a wall. I wish the wall had been the same battered and bruised one (I suspect it wasn’t) The projection working three fold. 3 takes, the film, the film performed, and then the film restaged
Went to M.A’s, hated it. I think there is a more purposeful way of archieving work.. something
I don’t even know if it was a sheep or a goat as a head bucked it away. The usual 14 inch telly, But there on all fours she is, with her nipples out ready. And he suckles, the sound is the most evident thing. The constant beat of his head against her breast – is there even milk in his breast, or is she like an empty rubber teat. I forgot to say, the real thing, the real reason it’s worth watching. Is this goat’s mother is not a goat, or a sheep, she is a real woman. Taking over the place as he violently grasps her breasts. She looks lovingly, tender, she is goat. He is child. She kisses him and nuzzles his head, before buckng him away later. I say the goat/the sheep is a he, but really it could as well as easily been a she.. Her head, the woman/mother/ewe’s head, is out of shot (just) it only appears when she puts her lips to the child’s head, the little lamb.
And then we have a fight against a wall. I wish the wall had been the same battered and bruised one (I suspect it wasn’t) The projection working three fold. 3 takes, the film, the film performed, and then the film restaged
Went to M.A’s, hated it. I think there is a more purposeful way of archieving work.. something
Ho Hum
This was a fair effort at describing that dazed feeling of awe, we all sometimes gravitate towards.
If you dissolve, become less fleshy. How will you imagine yourself. When your mind becomes so hot, it is best (sometimes) not to breathe too seriously. Bodies are fairly bloodless, they say. And your flesh is hollow. So if you hold your breathe, or it holds you (not too seriously) then you will find your body blown aside into a hundred and twelve separate and congealed pieces. If you then walk round a little dazed, please forgive me – my thoughts are too heated. And my mind reflects that. I always feel I am stuck in the very same place, tied down by a giant piece of rope. I wander around like that, trying to look at it another way. And if I look high enough all the diameters change. I am miss centered, and then miss aligned. Without an axis, or one that has a tendency to wander.
If you dissolve, become less fleshy. How will you imagine yourself. When your mind becomes so hot, it is best (sometimes) not to breathe too seriously. Bodies are fairly bloodless, they say. And your flesh is hollow. So if you hold your breathe, or it holds you (not too seriously) then you will find your body blown aside into a hundred and twelve separate and congealed pieces. If you then walk round a little dazed, please forgive me – my thoughts are too heated. And my mind reflects that. I always feel I am stuck in the very same place, tied down by a giant piece of rope. I wander around like that, trying to look at it another way. And if I look high enough all the diameters change. I am miss centered, and then miss aligned. Without an axis, or one that has a tendency to wander.
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