{"title":"Illusions in Motion: Media Archaeology of the Moving Panorama and Related Spectacles","authors":"Patrick Ellis","doi":"10.5860/choice.51-0659","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.51-0659","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":44193,"journal":{"name":"MILLENNIUM FILM JOURNAL","volume":"1 1","pages":"16"},"PeriodicalIF":0.9,"publicationDate":"2016-04-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71142589","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Installation and the Moving Image Catherine Elwes, Wallflower Press, 2015Since at least the Sixties, there has been a large divide between artists who made film and video for the gallery and those who made it for the cinema. This divide could be broadly characterised as indifference/ ignorance of the gallery artists towards the cinema artists and suspicion/jealousy flowing the opposite way, with side skirmishes between the materialists of film and the pluralists of video. A large frustration on the cinema side has been a sense of the ignorance or even duplication of history and a disregard for the dialogue that has developed over the course of that history on the part of the art market.Catherine Elwes' new book is a helpful corrective for some of these divisions. As a survey of the artist moving image, the most remarkable thing is that she writes a wide path into the history of the installation. Early on in the book, she claims that she is not describing a trajectory that brings everything together, "arriving triumphant at the high renaissance of today's digital gallery installations". Rather, anyone approaching this book as a primer on installation art will instead receive a high degree of insight beyond the gallery canon. Elwes first discusses the impact of architecture, painting, sculpture and performance on how artists deal with space, object and time-, which are logical but often underplayed antecedents to installation. This sets the stage for a remarkably extended tour of film history, complete with a thorough discussion of structural film and its connection with expanded cinema-both of which, through their polemics or ephemerality, were originally positioned quite opposite to the gallery project (ironically, expanded cinema- like performance-is often the history that the current art market seems most interested in reclaiming). Most of Elwes' focus is on disciplinary practices, but she devotes a strong chapter to the longstanding debate on spectatorship. She describes various theories of spectatorship, investigates the central gallery/cinema argument about whether the ambulant or sitting spectator has more power, and briefly suggests that cognitive theory may provide new answers to these ongoing questions.As mentioned, a large majority of the book does not describe much in the way of blue chip installation art (although Bill Viola and Douglas Gordon do get some play), instead focusing on an array of film and video sub-disciplines that exists outside the gallery context. Even contemporary gallery transplants like Anthony McCall are linked to the role his early work had to the cinematic context. …
{"title":"Installation and the Moving Image","authors":"C. Kennedy","doi":"10.5860/choice.192998","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.192998","url":null,"abstract":"Installation and the Moving Image Catherine Elwes, Wallflower Press, 2015Since at least the Sixties, there has been a large divide between artists who made film and video for the gallery and those who made it for the cinema. This divide could be broadly characterised as indifference/ ignorance of the gallery artists towards the cinema artists and suspicion/jealousy flowing the opposite way, with side skirmishes between the materialists of film and the pluralists of video. A large frustration on the cinema side has been a sense of the ignorance or even duplication of history and a disregard for the dialogue that has developed over the course of that history on the part of the art market.Catherine Elwes' new book is a helpful corrective for some of these divisions. As a survey of the artist moving image, the most remarkable thing is that she writes a wide path into the history of the installation. Early on in the book, she claims that she is not describing a trajectory that brings everything together, \"arriving triumphant at the high renaissance of today's digital gallery installations\". Rather, anyone approaching this book as a primer on installation art will instead receive a high degree of insight beyond the gallery canon. Elwes first discusses the impact of architecture, painting, sculpture and performance on how artists deal with space, object and time-, which are logical but often underplayed antecedents to installation. This sets the stage for a remarkably extended tour of film history, complete with a thorough discussion of structural film and its connection with expanded cinema-both of which, through their polemics or ephemerality, were originally positioned quite opposite to the gallery project (ironically, expanded cinema- like performance-is often the history that the current art market seems most interested in reclaiming). Most of Elwes' focus is on disciplinary practices, but she devotes a strong chapter to the longstanding debate on spectatorship. She describes various theories of spectatorship, investigates the central gallery/cinema argument about whether the ambulant or sitting spectator has more power, and briefly suggests that cognitive theory may provide new answers to these ongoing questions.As mentioned, a large majority of the book does not describe much in the way of blue chip installation art (although Bill Viola and Douglas Gordon do get some play), instead focusing on an array of film and video sub-disciplines that exists outside the gallery context. Even contemporary gallery transplants like Anthony McCall are linked to the role his early work had to the cinematic context. …","PeriodicalId":44193,"journal":{"name":"MILLENNIUM FILM JOURNAL","volume":"1 1","pages":"35"},"PeriodicalIF":0.9,"publicationDate":"2015-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71029417","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
MOTION(LESS) PICTURES: The Cinema of Stasis Justin Remes Columbia University Press, 2015Justin Remes' Motion(less) Pictures: The Cinema of Stasis is built around close studies of four films, with numerous other examples drawn from cinema and related art forms throughout the book. The key films are: Empire (1964) by Andy Warhol, Disappearing Music for Face (1966) by George Maciunas and Mieko Shiomi, So Is This (1982) by Michael Snow, and Blue (1993) by Derek Jarman. One of the refreshing aspects of Remes' project is its inclusiveness. Each of the four films is usually understood to inhabit a distinct area of culture: Empire as part of Warhol's Art World oeuvre, Disappearing Music . . . as an example of the Fluxus art movement, Snow's work as emerging from the splendid ghetto of avant-garde film, and Blue as sheltered by the umbrella of European Art Film. These categorizations often determine how and where each work is exhibited. Placing the four together in one volume is a bold gesture, almost as radical as presenting them in a single exhibition.Throughout the book, Remes relies on some of the well-known ideas developed in Ludwig Wittgenstein's later writings, centered around the philosopher's recognition of the suppleness of everyday language. Cardinal concepts of Philosophical Investigations include the language game and family resemblance, descriptions of the workings of language that challenge strict definitions and fixed rules, which are invariably undermined by exceptions that must be accounted for. Thus Remes' description of static films as "motion pictures without motion" is by no means a definition, but rather a starting point, with family resemblances between the motion(less) pictures discussed emerging as the study unfolds. However, Remes delays an acknowledgement of his Wittgensteinian underpinnings until the chapter on Snow's So Is This, more than half way through the text. Had he introduced Wittgenstein's insights explicitly as a foundation of his approach, he could have bypassed his seemingly endless disposal of Noel Carroll's absurd definition of film, simply by pointing out that academic attempts at watertight definitions of terms that function perfectly well in daily discourse are unnecessary distractions yielding zero insight. A major weakness of the book is that Remes gets caught up several times throughout the text in battling, and easily demolishing, such straw men.The author's willingness to engage in these one-sided disputes undercuts his laudatory bottom-up approach, whereby his analyses proceed from a detailed description of a work and his own responses to it. Rejecting a causative, linear, or canonistic historical perspective, The Cinema of Stasis describes artists' moving image as an area of creative exploration by identifying the drives and intentions that animate the makers, as well as analyzing in some detail what a viewer might gain from the works-namely a spectrum of intellectual, expressive, entertaining and expan
Justin Remes的《MOTION(LESS) PICTURES: The Cinema of Stasis》是围绕四部电影的密切研究而建立的，书中还有许多来自电影和相关艺术形式的其他例子。主要电影有:安迪·沃霍尔的《帝国》(1964年)、乔治·马丘纳斯和盐美美子的《消失的音乐》(1966年)、迈克尔·斯诺的《So Is This》(1982年)、德里克·贾曼的《蓝色》(1993年)。Remes项目的一个令人耳目一新的方面是它的包容性。这四部电影中的每一部通常被理解为居住在一个独特的文化领域:帝国作为沃霍尔艺术世界作品的一部分，消失的音乐……作为激浪派艺术运动的一个例子，斯诺的作品从先锋电影的辉煌贫民窟中脱颖而出，而布鲁的作品则受到欧洲艺术电影的庇护。这些分类通常决定了每件作品的展出方式和地点。将四件作品放在一起是一个大胆的举动，几乎与在一个展览中展示它们一样激进。在整本书中，雷姆斯依赖于路德维希·维特根斯坦(Ludwig Wittgenstein)后期作品中发展起来的一些著名观点，这些观点围绕着这位哲学家对日常语言的柔韧性的认识。哲学研究的主要概念包括语言游戏和家族相似性，对语言运作的描述挑战了严格的定义和固定的规则，这些规则总是被必须解释的例外所破坏。因此，Remes将静态电影描述为“没有运动的电影”绝不是一个定义，而是一个起点，随着研究的展开，所讨论的运动(较少)电影之间的家族相似性逐渐显现。然而，雷姆斯推迟承认他的维特根斯坦的基础，直到斯诺的So Is This一章，在文本的一半以上。如果他明确地将维特根斯坦的见解作为他的研究方法的基础，他就可以绕过他对诺埃尔·卡罗尔(Noel Carroll)荒谬的电影定义的看似无休止的处理，只需指出，在日常话语中完美发挥作用的术语的学术定义是不必要的干扰，不会产生任何洞察力。这本书的一个主要弱点是，雷梅斯在整篇文章中多次卷入与这些稻草人的战斗，并轻松地摧毁了这些稻草人。作者愿意参与这些片面的争论，这削弱了他自下而上的赞美方法，即他的分析是从对一部作品的详细描述和他自己对它的反应开始的。《停滞的电影》拒绝因果、线性或经典的历史视角，将艺术家的运动图像描述为一个创造性探索的领域，通过识别驱动和意图使创作者充满活力，并详细分析观众可能从作品中获得的东西——即智力、表现力、娱乐性和扩张性的体验。这本书体现了我长期以来一直坚持的一个观点，即艺术家的电影既是思想的催化剂，也是思想的媒介。emes对Andy Warhol的《Empire》的理解，是对Satie的“家具音乐”概念的介绍和重新聚焦。他在沃霍尔的电影中发现了一种“思考电影接受的新方式，它邀请了一系列分散的目光，而不是专注而热情的目光。”正如雷米斯所指出的那样，这种接受模式预料到了目前无处不在的视频装置所带来的影响，这些装置在《帝国》之后至少十年才出现。但是考虑接收模式是接近《嘻哈帝国》的最佳方式吗?在讨论《帝国》之后的章节中，雷梅斯引用了约翰·凯奇的夸张说法:“作曲是一回事，表演是另一回事，倾听是第三件事。”它们之间有什么关系呢?”显然，这三种活动之间有多种关系，但这个问题不是禅宗公案。…
{"title":"MOTION(LESS) PICTURES: The Cinema of Stasis","authors":"Grahame Weinbren","doi":"10.5860/choice.191020","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.191020","url":null,"abstract":"MOTION(LESS) PICTURES: The Cinema of Stasis Justin Remes Columbia University Press, 2015Justin Remes' Motion(less) Pictures: The Cinema of Stasis is built around close studies of four films, with numerous other examples drawn from cinema and related art forms throughout the book. The key films are: Empire (1964) by Andy Warhol, Disappearing Music for Face (1966) by George Maciunas and Mieko Shiomi, So Is This (1982) by Michael Snow, and Blue (1993) by Derek Jarman. One of the refreshing aspects of Remes' project is its inclusiveness. Each of the four films is usually understood to inhabit a distinct area of culture: Empire as part of Warhol's Art World oeuvre, Disappearing Music . . . as an example of the Fluxus art movement, Snow's work as emerging from the splendid ghetto of avant-garde film, and Blue as sheltered by the umbrella of European Art Film. These categorizations often determine how and where each work is exhibited. Placing the four together in one volume is a bold gesture, almost as radical as presenting them in a single exhibition.Throughout the book, Remes relies on some of the well-known ideas developed in Ludwig Wittgenstein's later writings, centered around the philosopher's recognition of the suppleness of everyday language. Cardinal concepts of Philosophical Investigations include the language game and family resemblance, descriptions of the workings of language that challenge strict definitions and fixed rules, which are invariably undermined by exceptions that must be accounted for. Thus Remes' description of static films as \"motion pictures without motion\" is by no means a definition, but rather a starting point, with family resemblances between the motion(less) pictures discussed emerging as the study unfolds. However, Remes delays an acknowledgement of his Wittgensteinian underpinnings until the chapter on Snow's So Is This, more than half way through the text. Had he introduced Wittgenstein's insights explicitly as a foundation of his approach, he could have bypassed his seemingly endless disposal of Noel Carroll's absurd definition of film, simply by pointing out that academic attempts at watertight definitions of terms that function perfectly well in daily discourse are unnecessary distractions yielding zero insight. A major weakness of the book is that Remes gets caught up several times throughout the text in battling, and easily demolishing, such straw men.The author's willingness to engage in these one-sided disputes undercuts his laudatory bottom-up approach, whereby his analyses proceed from a detailed description of a work and his own responses to it. Rejecting a causative, linear, or canonistic historical perspective, The Cinema of Stasis describes artists' moving image as an area of creative exploration by identifying the drives and intentions that animate the makers, as well as analyzing in some detail what a viewer might gain from the works-namely a spectrum of intellectual, expressive, entertaining and expan","PeriodicalId":44193,"journal":{"name":"MILLENNIUM FILM JOURNAL","volume":"1 1","pages":"47"},"PeriodicalIF":0.9,"publicationDate":"2015-10-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71028149","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2012-04-01DOI: 10.4135/9781446269572.n2
Rachel Stevens
THE TERRITORY OF IMAGES Harun Farocki, Images of War at a Distance Museum of Modern Art, New York, June 29, 2011 -January 2, 2012 My first encounter with the work of Harun Farocki was a mediated representation -Jill Godmilow's What Farocki Taught (1998). The film is a shot-byshot remake of Farocki's hard-hitting Inextinguishable Fire (1969). In Godmilow's film, Farocki's systematic unpacking of the making of napalm by unwitting workers at the Dow Chemical factory presented as a direct address was remade in color, in English and with vintage, rather than contemporary, outfits. What Farocki Taught demonstrates Godmilow's admiration for Farocki's work and invokes the original film's explicit politics but it also asks questions: how do Farocki's images operate and where does the experience of documentary truth lie? The show at MoMA is a cause for celebration -not only does it give access to much of Farocki's work in a video archive, and ample space to not one, but three different bodies of installation work, but signals the fact that the museum has undertaken to collect nearly all of his work. This unprecedented opportunity to watch so many pieces side by side presents an intimidating proposition if seeking to understand how his images operate, but a welcoming one for his many ardent fans in the media art and film worlds. An Image; Videograms of a Revolution; Images of the World and the Inscription of War, How to Live in the FRG; and In Comparison are among the many films available on monitors to play on demand. Much of the work involves serious research and the collection of archival material. Farocki is particularly fond of instructional scenarios (such as a demonstration of how to facilitate the birthing of a baby with a prosthetic pelvis and a resizable vaginal opening) and documenting pedagogical role-playing (play therapy, job interview practice sessions) in which social norms and ideologies are transmitted from one party to another. Despite the sometimes slow pace and stark structure that defies a more conventional narrative arc, Farocki's dispassionate and systematic look at everyday scenarios are not without humor or emotion. These scenarios often appear themselves to be performed quite dispassionately, but signs such as the sinking facial expression of the job interviewee, the Playboy model's stoic but perceptible discomfort as she gamely holds her pose through a series of tedious adjustments, and the halting enthusiasm of die Romanian citizen negotiating control of die television station as the dust of the revolution tries to settle, reveal an unruly humanity in the subjects, while also tending to implicate the voyeuristic impulses of the unsuspecting art viewer. Farocki's work seems to be always busy 'unmaking' representations, questioning documents and re-examining rote behaviors. In one work after another, he demonstrates that if you strip away the inessential and look at something with a fixed and steady gaze, it becomes strange. And i
{"title":"The Territory of Images","authors":"Rachel Stevens","doi":"10.4135/9781446269572.n2","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.4135/9781446269572.n2","url":null,"abstract":"THE TERRITORY OF IMAGES Harun Farocki, Images of War at a Distance Museum of Modern Art, New York, June 29, 2011 -January 2, 2012 My first encounter with the work of Harun Farocki was a mediated representation -Jill Godmilow's What Farocki Taught (1998). The film is a shot-byshot remake of Farocki's hard-hitting Inextinguishable Fire (1969). In Godmilow's film, Farocki's systematic unpacking of the making of napalm by unwitting workers at the Dow Chemical factory presented as a direct address was remade in color, in English and with vintage, rather than contemporary, outfits. What Farocki Taught demonstrates Godmilow's admiration for Farocki's work and invokes the original film's explicit politics but it also asks questions: how do Farocki's images operate and where does the experience of documentary truth lie? The show at MoMA is a cause for celebration -not only does it give access to much of Farocki's work in a video archive, and ample space to not one, but three different bodies of installation work, but signals the fact that the museum has undertaken to collect nearly all of his work. This unprecedented opportunity to watch so many pieces side by side presents an intimidating proposition if seeking to understand how his images operate, but a welcoming one for his many ardent fans in the media art and film worlds. An Image; Videograms of a Revolution; Images of the World and the Inscription of War, How to Live in the FRG; and In Comparison are among the many films available on monitors to play on demand. Much of the work involves serious research and the collection of archival material. Farocki is particularly fond of instructional scenarios (such as a demonstration of how to facilitate the birthing of a baby with a prosthetic pelvis and a resizable vaginal opening) and documenting pedagogical role-playing (play therapy, job interview practice sessions) in which social norms and ideologies are transmitted from one party to another. Despite the sometimes slow pace and stark structure that defies a more conventional narrative arc, Farocki's dispassionate and systematic look at everyday scenarios are not without humor or emotion. These scenarios often appear themselves to be performed quite dispassionately, but signs such as the sinking facial expression of the job interviewee, the Playboy model's stoic but perceptible discomfort as she gamely holds her pose through a series of tedious adjustments, and the halting enthusiasm of die Romanian citizen negotiating control of die television station as the dust of the revolution tries to settle, reveal an unruly humanity in the subjects, while also tending to implicate the voyeuristic impulses of the unsuspecting art viewer. Farocki's work seems to be always busy 'unmaking' representations, questioning documents and re-examining rote behaviors. In one work after another, he demonstrates that if you strip away the inessential and look at something with a fixed and steady gaze, it becomes strange. And i","PeriodicalId":44193,"journal":{"name":"MILLENNIUM FILM JOURNAL","volume":"1 1","pages":"6"},"PeriodicalIF":0.9,"publicationDate":"2012-04-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"70570136","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
ON TIC | TIC ON OPTIC ANTICS: THE CINEMA OF KEN JACOBS You've probably heard that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. In the case of Optic Antics: The Cinema of Ken Jacobs (Edited by Michele Pierson, David E. James, and Paul Arthur, Oxford University Press, 20 1 1 ) feel free to do so. Donned by a portion of a wonderful 1967 photograph of Ken and Flo, taken by none other than Michael Snow, the front of this volume, edited by Michele Pierson, David E. James, and (posthumously) Paul Arthur, heralds intricate fascination, loudly! The image as it appears is nearly bisected by a post between a pair of windows. Ken, standing in front of them and on the right, with his head, shouldet, and chest in profile, holds out a mirror that stretches across to the other, better, half. Since that floating pane catches Flo's profil perdu (from her shoulder up), the left hand side belongs to her - doubly so, as a sliver of her arm anchors the bottom corner beside its reflection. Turn the book over, passing a spine of lintel and lace, and, thanks to designer Elsie Lyons' folding of Snow's original onto the back cover, find Flo's full visage alone, as if you stepped into Ken's mirror and circled round its feature. At Optic Antics' center (chapters 11 and 12 of 22) sits another Flo pair. In "Flo Talks! ", a 2008 interview conducted by Amy Taubin, "the producer of Ken Jacobs' cinema," as Taubin calls her, relates the struggles she had with her parents' attachment to the 'antiseptic'; the importance of Fred Astaire and Piet Mondrian to her life as person and painter; her experiences at RISD; meeting Ken in the summer of 1961; raising children and making art with him. This entry is preceded by "Some Jacobs Family Photos," a set often specimens curated and captioned by Flo. One of them is the Snow shot that in altered form (slightly cropped and majorly redistributed) adorns the book's exterior. This repetition and reiteration, this double movement from surface to deep middle, this churning of inside out, captures a major strategy of Jacobs' technique. The dissection in Tom, Tom, The Piper's Son (1969, revised 1971), the shuffling in The Doctor's Dream (1978), the vibrating 'eternalisms' of the digital videos (1999- ) and the flickering ones of the Nervous System (1975-2000) and Nervous Magic Lantern (1990- ) performances, and the further ephemerality of 'the Apparition Theater of New York (1967-1982), all testify to the game that Jacobs continuously initiates: "play is the confident abandonment and restoring of balance."1 Jacobs once referred to his stabilizer, the "triumvirate of persons that supports" him most crucially (mother Janice Rosenthal, who died at 27; painting teacher Hans Hofmann; "collaborator" Flo), as his "tripod."2 Indeed, he does seem to be a threelegged creature. Unique associations with Millennium Film Workshop, Binghamton University, and the Collective for Living Cinema, as well as a career that straddles film, digital and theater, exemplify two ot
你可能听说过“不能以貌取人”这句话。在《光学滑稽动作:肯·雅各布斯的电影》(米歇尔·皮尔森、大卫·e·詹姆斯和保罗·阿瑟主编，牛津大学出版社，2011年)一书中，你可以随意这样做。由迈克尔·斯诺(Michael Snow)于1967年拍摄的肯和弗洛(Ken and Flo)的一张精彩照片的一部分穿上，本卷的前部由米歇尔·皮尔森(Michele Pierson)、大卫·e·詹姆斯(David E. James)和(死后)保罗·亚瑟(Paul Arthur)编辑，大声地预示着复杂的魅力!这幅图像看起来几乎被一对窗户之间的柱子一分为二。肯恩，站在他们的前面，在右边，他的头，肩膀和胸部在侧面，伸出一面镜子，延伸到另一个，更好的，一半。因为那块浮动的玻璃捕捉到了弗洛的侧面(从她的肩膀以上)，所以左手边是属于她的——加倍地，因为她的手臂的一小条固定在底部角落的倒影旁边。把书翻过来，经过门楣和蕾丝的书脊，多亏了设计师埃尔西·莱昂斯(Elsie Lyons)把斯诺的原作折叠在封底上，你会发现弗洛的全貌，就好像你走进了肯的镜子，绕着它的特征转了一圈。在光学滑稽的中心(22章中的第11章和第12章)坐着另一对Flo。在“Flo Talks!”2008年，艾米·陶宾(Amy Taubin)对她进行了一次采访，陶宾称她为“肯·雅各布斯(Ken Jacobs)电影的制片人”，她讲述了她与父母对“防腐剂”的依恋之间的斗争;弗雷德·阿斯泰尔和皮特·蒙德里安对她个人和画家生活的重要性;她在罗德岛设计学院的经历;在1961年夏天见到了肯;和他一起抚养孩子，一起创作艺术。这个条目的前面是“一些雅各布斯家庭照片”，这是一组由Flo策划和配文的标本。其中之一是雪的镜头，它以改变的形式(略有剪裁，主要是重新分发)装饰了这本书的外观。这种重复和重复，这种从表面到深层的双重运动，这种由内而外的搅动，抓住了雅各布斯技术的主要策略。《Tom, Tom, The Piper’s Son》(1969，修订于1971)中的解剖，《医生之梦》(1978)中的拖曳，数字视频(1999-)中振动的“永恒主义”，《神经系统》(1975-2000)和《神经魔灯》(1990-)表演中忽隐忽现的“永恒主义”，以及《纽约幻影剧场》(1967-1982)中进一步的短暂性，都证明了雅各布斯不断发起的游戏:“游戏是自信的放弃和恢复平衡。”雅各布斯曾提到他的稳定器，最重要的是支持他的“三人组”(母亲珍妮丝·罗森塔尔，27岁去世;绘画老师汉斯·霍夫曼;“合作者”弗洛)，作为他的“三脚架”。的确，他看起来确实是一只三条腿的动物。与千禧电影工作室、宾厄姆顿大学和生活电影集体的独特联系，以及跨越电影、数字和戏剧的职业生涯，是另外两个重要的三重奏的例证。我们最初的Snow分布在三个表面(腹部，脊椎，背部)与这些事实一致，并引入了一个新的事实:Optic滑稽的三个编辑器(与后来丢失的那个特别相关)。米歇尔·皮尔森(Michele Pierson)在她的完整的三篇文章《导言:肯·雅各布斯——半个世纪的电影》(Introduction: Ken Jacobs - A half - century of Cinema)的最后一个注释(第90号)中提到，保罗·阿瑟(Paul Arthur)在向牛津大学提出这本书的六个月后去世了，因此，该书唯一未被修改的重印版是阿瑟1997年的电影评论文章《从糟心中创造奇迹:肯·雅各布斯的Chimeric Cinema》。除了通过暗示雅各布斯与“电影的秘密历史”的联系来唤起雅各布斯的幻想之外，亚瑟对艺术家的美学及其在电影和表演中的实施的概述使他得出结论，雅各布斯的电影，就像神话中的野兽一样，是“突变的”。最后看了一眼封面，斯诺也描绘了一个嵌合体，肯恩的头在三个方面被分成三部分:头发在窗户上;嘴唇和下巴对着镜子;额头、鼻子和中骨在框架木上。…
{"title":"Optic Antics: The Cinema of Ken Jacobs","authors":"Ken Eisenstein","doi":"10.5860/choice.49-0171","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5860/choice.49-0171","url":null,"abstract":"ON TIC | TIC ON OPTIC ANTICS: THE CINEMA OF KEN JACOBS You've probably heard that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. In the case of Optic Antics: The Cinema of Ken Jacobs (Edited by Michele Pierson, David E. James, and Paul Arthur, Oxford University Press, 20 1 1 ) feel free to do so. Donned by a portion of a wonderful 1967 photograph of Ken and Flo, taken by none other than Michael Snow, the front of this volume, edited by Michele Pierson, David E. James, and (posthumously) Paul Arthur, heralds intricate fascination, loudly! The image as it appears is nearly bisected by a post between a pair of windows. Ken, standing in front of them and on the right, with his head, shouldet, and chest in profile, holds out a mirror that stretches across to the other, better, half. Since that floating pane catches Flo's profil perdu (from her shoulder up), the left hand side belongs to her - doubly so, as a sliver of her arm anchors the bottom corner beside its reflection. Turn the book over, passing a spine of lintel and lace, and, thanks to designer Elsie Lyons' folding of Snow's original onto the back cover, find Flo's full visage alone, as if you stepped into Ken's mirror and circled round its feature. At Optic Antics' center (chapters 11 and 12 of 22) sits another Flo pair. In \"Flo Talks! \", a 2008 interview conducted by Amy Taubin, \"the producer of Ken Jacobs' cinema,\" as Taubin calls her, relates the struggles she had with her parents' attachment to the 'antiseptic'; the importance of Fred Astaire and Piet Mondrian to her life as person and painter; her experiences at RISD; meeting Ken in the summer of 1961; raising children and making art with him. This entry is preceded by \"Some Jacobs Family Photos,\" a set often specimens curated and captioned by Flo. One of them is the Snow shot that in altered form (slightly cropped and majorly redistributed) adorns the book's exterior. This repetition and reiteration, this double movement from surface to deep middle, this churning of inside out, captures a major strategy of Jacobs' technique. The dissection in Tom, Tom, The Piper's Son (1969, revised 1971), the shuffling in The Doctor's Dream (1978), the vibrating 'eternalisms' of the digital videos (1999- ) and the flickering ones of the Nervous System (1975-2000) and Nervous Magic Lantern (1990- ) performances, and the further ephemerality of 'the Apparition Theater of New York (1967-1982), all testify to the game that Jacobs continuously initiates: \"play is the confident abandonment and restoring of balance.\"1 Jacobs once referred to his stabilizer, the \"triumvirate of persons that supports\" him most crucially (mother Janice Rosenthal, who died at 27; painting teacher Hans Hofmann; \"collaborator\" Flo), as his \"tripod.\"2 Indeed, he does seem to be a threelegged creature. Unique associations with Millennium Film Workshop, Binghamton University, and the Collective for Living Cinema, as well as a career that straddles film, digital and theater, exemplify two ot","PeriodicalId":44193,"journal":{"name":"MILLENNIUM FILM JOURNAL","volume":"1 1","pages":"10"},"PeriodicalIF":0.9,"publicationDate":"2012-04-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"71134213","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2005-07-01DOI: 10.5749/minnesota/9780816677252.003.0009
D. E. James
During the last years of the 1960s and the first of the 1970s-the twilight of the psychedelic era-the premier light show in Los Angeles was the Single Wing Turquoise Bird.1 Long before this period, the city had seen several projects involving the projection of abstract light, "color organs" and similar apparatuses, versions of which date back at least to the 1720s when Louis-Bertrand Castel proposed that color transparencies could be linked to the keys of a harpsichord. In the early 1920s, Stanton MacDonald-Wright, a painter and self-styled "Color Motion Picturist," began to research abstract color projection and eventually made several kinetic light projectors, one of which was used in several theatrical productions in Santa Monica in 1927. Probably the most sophisticated of such light machines was Thomas Wilfred's Clavilux, built in the early 1920s; it consisted of a cabinet in which revolving discs and mirrors could be "played" so as to rear-project light onto a two-foot square screen. Wilfred wrote compositions for it that he called lumia and performed them publicly. seeing a performance when he was recovering from a syphilitic eye-infection, Los Angeles avant-garde filmmaker Dudley Murphy found it "one of the most ecstatic experiences of [his] life," and when artist Sara Kathryn Arledge saw Wilfred perform in Pasadena in 1928, she was inspired to become involved in time-based visual art and eventually to make important avant-garde films.2 Oskar Fischinger, who shared Wilfred's mystical bent, worked in a similar vein. In 1950 he built his "lumigraph," an upright wooden frame, about five feet high containing light sources that project inwards onto an open area three to four feet square holding an elastic white screen just behind the light sources. In a darkened room, the screen is invisible, but any area of it lightly pushed forward by the player catches the light, so that the player may spontaneously shape light in space. Inspired by both the technological and the socio-cultural possibilities of its own time, the Single Wing Turquoise Bird expanded and elaborated such intersections between avant-garde film and visual music. First formed in the spring of 1968 to accompany rock concerts at the Shrine Auditorium and Exposition Hall in Los Angeles, the light show several times reconfigured its membership and its performance modes, freeing itself from supplementarity to the rock concerts. Developing many different technologies and sources of both imagery and abstract light, it evolved into an autonomous multi-media unit that innovated the collectively improvised, real-time composition of projected light. The group was able to maintain itself for over five years, but eventually several of its members became involved with cinematic projects of a more traditional kind and, though they still did occasional performances for several years after, the Single Wing effectively dissolved into a theatrical film exhibition company in 1973. In fall 1967, John V
{"title":"Expanded Cinema in Los Angeles: The Single Wing Turquoise Bird","authors":"D. E. James","doi":"10.5749/minnesota/9780816677252.003.0009","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.5749/minnesota/9780816677252.003.0009","url":null,"abstract":"During the last years of the 1960s and the first of the 1970s-the twilight of the psychedelic era-the premier light show in Los Angeles was the Single Wing Turquoise Bird.1 Long before this period, the city had seen several projects involving the projection of abstract light, \"color organs\" and similar apparatuses, versions of which date back at least to the 1720s when Louis-Bertrand Castel proposed that color transparencies could be linked to the keys of a harpsichord. In the early 1920s, Stanton MacDonald-Wright, a painter and self-styled \"Color Motion Picturist,\" began to research abstract color projection and eventually made several kinetic light projectors, one of which was used in several theatrical productions in Santa Monica in 1927. Probably the most sophisticated of such light machines was Thomas Wilfred's Clavilux, built in the early 1920s; it consisted of a cabinet in which revolving discs and mirrors could be \"played\" so as to rear-project light onto a two-foot square screen. Wilfred wrote compositions for it that he called lumia and performed them publicly. seeing a performance when he was recovering from a syphilitic eye-infection, Los Angeles avant-garde filmmaker Dudley Murphy found it \"one of the most ecstatic experiences of [his] life,\" and when artist Sara Kathryn Arledge saw Wilfred perform in Pasadena in 1928, she was inspired to become involved in time-based visual art and eventually to make important avant-garde films.2 Oskar Fischinger, who shared Wilfred's mystical bent, worked in a similar vein. In 1950 he built his \"lumigraph,\" an upright wooden frame, about five feet high containing light sources that project inwards onto an open area three to four feet square holding an elastic white screen just behind the light sources. In a darkened room, the screen is invisible, but any area of it lightly pushed forward by the player catches the light, so that the player may spontaneously shape light in space. Inspired by both the technological and the socio-cultural possibilities of its own time, the Single Wing Turquoise Bird expanded and elaborated such intersections between avant-garde film and visual music. First formed in the spring of 1968 to accompany rock concerts at the Shrine Auditorium and Exposition Hall in Los Angeles, the light show several times reconfigured its membership and its performance modes, freeing itself from supplementarity to the rock concerts. Developing many different technologies and sources of both imagery and abstract light, it evolved into an autonomous multi-media unit that innovated the collectively improvised, real-time composition of projected light. The group was able to maintain itself for over five years, but eventually several of its members became involved with cinematic projects of a more traditional kind and, though they still did occasional performances for several years after, the Single Wing effectively dissolved into a theatrical film exhibition company in 1973. In fall 1967, John V","PeriodicalId":44193,"journal":{"name":"MILLENNIUM FILM JOURNAL","volume":"1 1","pages":"9"},"PeriodicalIF":0.9,"publicationDate":"2005-07-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"70950380","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":4,"RegionCategory":"艺术学","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
京公网安备 11010802042870号
京ICP备2023020795号-1
扫码关注我们
求助内容：
应助结果提醒方式：