Dear Making Comics Class,
We’re about to begin work on our final project. This is from my composition notebook. It’s sumi ink and Uniball pen on regular comp book paper. The characters are Marlys and Fred Milton. I’ve been drawing Marlys for over 30 years.
As you start drawing/writing your final projects know that a character you find by drawing in a sincere and observing way can stay with you and travel with you over time. I am very curious about this ability to create a character in the image world and sustain a relationship with it - contact with it— through drawing and writing.
I look forward to meeting some of the characters you are about to bring about by moving your hands in a certain way while maintaining a certain state of mind.
By the way I love your Batman Books from last week. They kill me. Completely.
Zum Andenken an Lou Reed
I know I like to dream a lot
And think of other worlds that are not
I hate that I need air to breathe
I’d like to leave this body – and be free
MeTube: August sings Carmen ‘Habanera’ (von augustschram)
The Feral Diagram: Graffiti and Street Art. 2011. (von DanielFeral)
Excerpts from a 2-part blogpost by over at FANDOR
For an experimental filmmaker, films don’t ‘do,’ they ‘are.’
(…) the very idea of watching an 80 or 100 minute film that does not have a plot of some type is not only terrifying but flabbergasting—if it doesn’t tell a story, What does it do?
The question is the problem—for an experimental filmmaker, films don’t do, they are.
(…) liberate the form
(…) watching a non-narrative feature isn’t passive—you put your game face on, send up your best antennae and consider moment to moment what movies are.
1. Sophie’s Place (Lawrence Jordan, 1986)
Jordan’s sudden transformations (Victorian dandies are butterflies are hot-air balloons are locomotives are rosebuds are skulls) make no sense except for the only sense only movies can make: ecstatic, visceral, poetic sense.
2. 23rd Psalm Branch (Stan Brakhage, 1967)
a precise expression of cinema’s elemental factors
—it’s the purely optical suggestiveness of images
—it’s an asyncopated epic.
3. L’Age d’Or (Luis Buñuel, 1930)
The first avant-garde feature, and the first movie made with express purpose of destroying the society that sees it.
4. Blue (Derek Jarman, 1993)
Famously, it’s hardly a movie, but a complex narration and soundtrack playing behind (beside? atop?) an empty but bright blue screen.
Blue is intended to be seen in a darkened theater, where the relentless color amounts to an optical attack, and ends up playing tricks on your eyes.
5. Alice (Jan Svankmajer, 1988)
Self-referential and playfully conscious of pedophiliac threat as only a Surrealist’s film could be, Alice does Carroll better than Carroll did Carroll, swapping the smarmy wordplay and faux innocence for the claustrophobia and stress you taste in a real dream.
6. Decasia (Bill Morrison, 2002)
Simply, an almost random assemblage of ancient silent film footage beset by nitrate decay
Decasia lays waste to a major part of cinema’s allure—the part that enables us to capture time, and revisit the past.
7. Diva Dolorosa (Peter Delpeut, 1999)
Another film simply assembled from old fragments
But Delpeut is crafting a found-object poem here, with a rhapsodic orchestral score
Like Decasia, the movie is really about cinema itself, and therefore about lost time, and therein lies its loveliest sorrow.
8. The Falls (Peter Greenaway, 1980)
Technically a mock-documentary and so therefore seemingly built around narrative discourse, The Falls is actually
more an exploration of language and and its discontents than an actual fiction.
9. Film Socialisme (Jean-Luc Godard, 2010)
Like all of his films, Film Socialisme is a conversation Godard has with us, naked, inconclusive, bristling with half-thoughts, jokes and sudden revelations, and each of us will walk away with a different exchange in our heads.
10. Zorns Lemma (Hollis Frampton, 1970)
This structuralist meditation, famously the first experimental feature to play at the New York Film Festival, is a hypnotic abecedarian collage that consists largely of one-second shots of public text, running from A to Z over and over hundreds of times, until the words are replaced one at a time by singular recurring images of work, nature and movement, until the language vanishes altogether.
11. The Clock (Christian Marclay, 2010)
twenty-four hours of found footage, arranged around images of clocks and watches, which sync up to the actual time of the day
12. The Mirror (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1974)
free-form tone poem about childhood, fathers, mothers, lost loves, personal apocalypse, and the sheer rapture of Tarkovskiite visual alchemy.
13. Our Hitler: A Film from Germany (Hans-Jurgen Syberberg, 1977)
Patience-testing and of course furiously inconclusive, Syberberg’s gargantua demands to be seen, if only as a responsibility and as a mark of hardcore art-cinema geekhood.
14. Tales of the Forgotten Future (Lewis Klahr, 1991)
the “forgotten future” is, of course, the idyllic America of the post-WWII dream, a future that never actually happened, packed with images of dead fads and faded fashions
15. Diaries, Notes and Sketches (also known as Walden) (Jonas Mekas, 1969)
Mekas himself apparently took his Bolex everywhere and filmed everybody and everything, and this three-hour diary-film is both an indelible time capsule and a distinctive portrait of the artist-with-a-camera.
– the feeling is that this movie intends to keep up with daily events, instead of slowing them down and controlling the flow and turning them into something other than just life as it was lived.