Survey Question

Filmmaking today is lacking mystique.

Journal Part 3 Cabinet Magazine: Are ya laughing or Crying?

In an article on Cabinet Magazine’s website titled Tears of Laughter by Christopher Turner; the age-old question, “Why does laughing, look so similar to that of crying,” is put into examination. I know what you’re thinking, “that’s an age old question?” I was perplexed at first as well, but upon further reading of the article, apparently this question really is “age old.” In an excerpt from the article Leonardo da Vinci states, “Between the expressions of laughter and weeping there is no difference in the motion of the features.” Yes, back around the 1500’s, the painter was contemplating the reason behind similarities in facial expressions. Finally it most definitely could be understood why the Mona Lisa is depicted with such a blank stare. Da Vinci simply didn’t want to confuse anyone, so he left her mouth in a neutral form! All jokes aside though, this article soon enough completely gained grasp of my attention.
First off, I quickly learned that back in the 1700’s people were not too fun. I say this because the article points out that the act of laughing in this time period was looked at as barbaric. Yes, laughing was a “no-can-do” it seems back then. The article signals this by referencing, “In a letter to his son in 1748, the moralist Lord Chesterfield proclaimed, ‘In my mind there is nothing so illiberal and so ill-bred as audible laughter,’ especially by virtue of ‘the disagreeable noise that it makes, and the shocking distortion of the face that it occasions.’” Talk about a bummer. I got mad when my dad wouldn’t let me drive the good car, if he told me not to laugh, I’d probably lose my mind. In addition the article gives more examples of how laughter was rude in old times, as well as emphasizing this by stating, that in the history of art a slim number of paintings have even dared to depict laughing.
The article seems to suggest, although it doesn’t say it, that this is due to the fact that laughing and crying look way to similar to be framed. As well as da Vinci, another extremely historically famous person who also took interest in this subject was none other than evolutionary theorist Charles Darwin. Turner explains that Darwin looked to capture people’s expressions through photographs in order to study the phenomenon further. However he found a readymade batch of pictures in the works of Guillaume Duchenne de Boulogne and reproduced his book. Duchenne was just about as out there as one could be in regards to having this laughing/crying “expression-obsession”. In his photos Duchenne used electrical devices in order to fake expressions on his subject’s faces. In one in particular he, “galvanized each side of his subject’s – or victim’s – face with a different expression; one half is given a fake smile, the other is made to weep.” It was strange to me that such a deep, crazy method was used back then to examine such a topic yet today; one hardly hears anything on this matter. Still Turner continued to provide me with more hallucinating history regarding the similarities between smiling and crying and its examination through the years. In a standout set of two photos we see another photographer (in which Darwin examined the topic with) smiling in one and crying in the other. Visually the two are stunningly reminiscent of one another.
Soon enough the question that had been bugging me all throughout my reading conquest had finally arrived at being answered. Why in the hell was Charles Darwin concerned with the whole “I can’t tell if he’s laughing or crying,” ideology? The answer is flat out simple, yet I never saw it coming. Of course Darwin’s intrigue within the topic stemmed from the belief that monkeys laugh and we evolved from them. In contrast to Darwin, Turner points out that Aristotle believed that humans were the only creatures who laughed, though he was apparently wrong. Darwin wrote, “If a young chimpanzee be tickled – the armpits are particularly sensitive to tickling, as in the case of our children – a more decided chuckling or laughing sound is uttered.” Ah to be Darwin, a life of tickling monkeys and studying the reasons for the similarities between crying and laughing; sounds like the life for me. Except Darwin never found the conclusive evidence on why the similarity between the two actions exists.
According to the article, after extensive research beginning in the 1990’s, the center of the human brain where laughing and crying is stimulated are remotely close. So close it seems that a new disease has even been diagnosed in patients across the world called PLC or Pathological Laughing and Crying syndrome. People with this literally don’t know which one to do in certain situations and often times do the opposite of expected. For instance a man with it may laugh uncontrollably at his mother’s funeral and cry tremendously when watching an episode of Full House. Wait, bad analogy, I cry when I watch Full House too. Anyways, “ this man” would cry at something he found funny, which very well might be Full House, if he were a seven-year old. Enough of ripping on Bob Sagget and back to the real question at hand though; why is laughing and crying so similar? I think it’s because the two are the rawest, deepest forms of emotions pure and simply. We only have one face and with that being the case it seems preposterous that the two emotions should widely differ.

Blogs Round 3: A trip to the Haggerty

When Glenn Bach came into talk to our Film 202 class he expressed how the manipulation of just sound itself is an art all its own. Glenn Bach discussed how field recording is a deeply gratifying form of interactivity with nature and is extremely giving in terms of its possibilities for composition. I was in Glenn’s class last year and must say that when mixing video with the recordings we collected from the outside was quite rewarding. The resulting project that I conceived left me feeling very proud and the process of collecting the sounds and images made for an organic experience that I will value and always remember. Similarly to those videos we made in Glenn’s class, at the Haggerty Museum of Art’s stop.look.listen. exhibit; an impressive array of video installations explore the wide range of creative possibilities when combining visuals with sound. One of these videos that I distinctly remember and cherished the experience given went by the title of Magical World. It wasn’t until the end of my outing at the museum located on Marquette’s campus that I came across the installation, but none captured my attention as quickly as this piece. Before I knew it, the piece had started where I began and when watching it the full way through, I couldn’t even determine where the loop of the video began. This only begins to explain how mesmerized I was by this piece. First and foremost the music was quite remarkable and it was children singing! In Magical World Johanna Billing creates a work that resembles a documentary by feeding off its simple, reality driven plot of children organized to sing a song in a music class. However, when reading about the work I’ve come to understand it as staged. Regardless it works all around and her creation was quite beautiful. In the work as the children go about singing the song, the main focus is centered on a boy who leads. His voice is distinctly foreign, but quite gorgeous as he pronounces the English versus right on queue. We hear accompanying rattles and shakes as well as pianos and other instruments as we view the video and almost always Billing’s simultaneously focuses the camera on each of these instruments. This manipulation gave me the feel of being at a concert by displaying greatly all the efforts that were going into the song individually. In juxtaposition with the music colors are everywhere in this piece and deservingly so in order help define such a beautiful song. “I live in a Magical World, in a magical world, in a magical world,” I believe were the lyrics and the video plays no games in depicting this. From the beautifully colored clothes the children wear to the teachers involved with leading the song; the video just “straight-up” made me happy as I watched the children sing. Then suddenly Billing’s added a twist of sorts that added even more enrichment to the experience. She suddenly took the camera outside and let the music grow fainter. Soon enough I heard the chirping of birds and the passing of cars as people roamed the city streets outside. This movement of sounds and images from the outside world and next back into the session gave me a great appreciation for what I was able to see going on with the children inside the school and what everyone on the outside was missing out on. The video concludes with the children packing up and talking as they leave, yet at no point in the loop did I ever truly recognize silence as a device used by Billing’s. Without this silence I believe the video kept up with its reality like landscape even more, as rarely when one isn’t controlling the atmosphere is there total, utter lack of sound. This piece was remarkable to me and Billing’s style and sound artistry made the experience possible.
In Telephones, also at the Haggerty, Christian Marclay offers the viewer quite a contrasting form of video installation than that of the work of Billing’s in Magical World. Whereas Billing’s created the piece on spot by filming the actors performing the song and doing field recordings of the outside world, Marclay used other people’s films to create his. Although many if not all of the films subjected in Marclay’s piece were mainstream, he still manages to create quite a unique, original piece with a rhythm that was created by his manipulation of sound. The installation subjects the viewer to a string of clips from other films where the actors are somewhat involved with a telephone. When watching it through completion, the combination of clips results in that of one long phone call. It is not a stereotypical conversation however. It isn’t back and forth, “Hello,” “Hi,” “When’s dinner?” “At four,” type dialogue. Instead Marclay opts for a more musical tone, by cutting the scenes into a composition with a beat like flow. He starts with a man entering a phone booth with dreary music playing, signifying the fact this won’t be your normal phone conversation. From here a theme of repetition is put into play as we hear and see several people in several clips dial a number on their telephones. Marclay starts with older films where the phones are spin dials and progresses to newer colored films where the buttons are pushed instead. Through this action I found it intriguing how the artist played up on the advancement of technology through sound. Marclay continues with the repetition throughout the film as soon enough we hear and see replies on the other end that are always awkward in each of the selected clips. His style is displayed from here on out, as the repetition in each segment of clips from picking up the phone to compilation of hang-ups at the end express the tone of the conversation. It is awkward, weird, and sometimes sad; yet at the same time Telephones always remains fun and completely playful. As said previously, at no time in the film does the conversation have any real meaning through dialogue, but the clips compiled together offer a montage of sounds that make a musical piece with a wide range of emotions. Most notably this is displayed at the end of the work where Marclay concludes with the hang-ups of the telephones. He begins by ending the conversation with clips involved with actors hanging up slowly and quietly adding to that dreary feeling radiated by the opening sequence. Each of the actors hangs-up and looks forward away from the camera as if they’d just heard terrible news. Slowly transitioning and then upping the speed, Marclay goes into a segment of hang-ups that are loud and fast giving the vibrant tone of anger. The actor’s say things like “fine” and “bye” as they pounce the phones back on the mantles rapidly. This continues on until the very end and ironically emphasizes an even more playful tone through its sarcasm. Like Wonderful World, Telephones surprisingly has a ton to offer musically, yet it comes from a place that one would never expect by utilizing telephone conversations from movie clips. Whereas Wonderful World acts like that of a music video with a deeper message, Telephones actually acts more like that of just music. Even with one’s eyes closed the sound could stand alone as a fine work of music in both pieces. Yet, Billing’s piece is enhanced greatly by the visuals and Marclay’s could work either way.

Cabinet Magazine Journal Post 1

Cabinet magazine or as I viewed it on the web at cabinetmagazine.org, is one of the more interesting periodicals that I’ve come across in my lifetime. It seems as if each issue of the company puts out revolves around some sort of theme that is always titled using no more than two words, but usually one. For example some of the most recent issues titles include Sloth, Bones, and Magic. In these, the articles really do represent that of the given title. The magazine centers itself under a historical context, yet the history it provides is quite unusual. For the most part the history provided is centered on interesting information that has the feel of Ripley’s Believe it or Not. I will discuss two of these articles I read from Cabinet Magazine.

In “Visectomania and Other Cures for Sloth” Christopher Turner discusses the history of trying to cure laziness in people throughout the world in time. The article begins by discussing a proposal that a chemist named Wilhelm Weichardt made in 1904. In his announcement Weichardt made the claim that he had made a drug that would cure fatigue by cleansing the blood called antikenotoxin. This he suggested would be enough for all men to never become tireless and live prosperous lives as machine-like creatures. As I read on I learned of many other trials throughout time to beat the ugly and what some claim “immoral” act of sloth according to the article. Turner speaks of how Weichardt’s antikenotoxin went on to be tested on Children in classrooms who’s; “speed of calculation increased by fifty percent, and their answers showed improved accuracy” after being secretly induced. Even stranger, in the article we read of productivity increasing in males after the injection of dog testicles into their system and in Paris in the 1920’s the corruption of the city due to what I’ll call testicle thieves. Yes, I said testicle thieves. According to Turner there was a point in Paris’ history where corruption in the city was so high due to the demand of testicular transplants to cure sloth, that a scientist began “slicing and grafting on the testicles of monkeys to those who sought his treatment.” This article by Turner although somewhat repulsive and scary was completely intriguing and made me grateful for a historical magazine that offers a little more “zest” I’ll call it, than what I first expected.

Another particular article on Cabinet magazine’s website that intrigued me greatly was titled “Bone Play” by Michael Sappol and Eva Ahren. In this article a brief history of anatomy was given describing the early interaction with medical students and that of the corpses they studied. Pictures and descriptions of the medical students breaking the so-called rules depict the pupils jokingly putting cigarettes and taking photographs with the skeletons. The article goes on to explain how the early mechanics of anatomy students paved the way for our skeleton accepting and loving culture i.e.; their representations in horror films , rock bands, and tattoos have taken a once immoral and disrespectful standpoint on bones to a now almost masking of the true reality within them. All I know is when the going gets rough for me, the Foo Fighter’s song, “Skin and Bones” always cheers me up reminding the listener that, “we’re just skin and bones.” This article was quite interesting in following a similar motif on bones to the song and giving a historical background behind the movement to the present. Cabinet magazine is highly entertaining, enlightening and unique and I look forward to reading more and more as time continues from the website and might pick up one at a newsstand sometime in the near future.

Act/ React

In George Fifield’s essay on interactive art, he points out a quote from none other than the praised, famous film critic Roger Ebert. Ebert once said according to the article that he considered, “video games inherently inferior to film and literature. There is a structural reason for that: Video Games by their nature require player choices, which is the opposite of the strategy of serious film and literature, which requires authorial control.” Now I’m a fan of Roger Ebert and usually find his reviews quite persuasive and agreeable, yet this statement did not sit well with me, especially after visiting the Act/ React exhibit at the Milwaukee Art Museum.

In his article Fifield goes on to explain that the counterargument to Ebert’s accusation is “the elevation of the passive viewer/reader to active/user in fact expands the auteur’s area.” I couldn’t agree more with this statement. In terms of visual art that one would normally see at a museum, I found the works within the Act/ React exhibit far more engaging than the usual painting or sculpture. With that being said the artists to me most definitely displayed their authorial control even further by giving myself control within their creations.

In Brian Knep’s Healing #1 a glowing floor covered in biological patterns is set up in the center of a room at the Milwaukee Art Museum. When my two friends and I entered his piece we were stunned by the visual hypnosis the bright colors exhibited. Soon we walked across the floor as instructed and discovered the biological patterns disappearing and molding back as we walked on and away from them respectively. This left the impression that every person who has ever stepped on the floor had somewhat of an impact on its present appearance. The same concept was obviously apparent in the work Deep Walls by Scott Snibbe. In this piece, a grid of the silhouettes of the past 16 people to walk in front of it, is displayed with those people’s exact mannerisms running in loops. In the same sense this piece is also ever changing and contains the history of those before it, however in Deep Walls there is the limit based on the sixteen silhouettes. In other words whereas Knep’s piece will eternally have the affect of everyone whoever walked on it, Snibbe’s loses the seventeenth previous person to walk before it every time a new person does. To me this brings a certain mystique to Snibb’s piece in the sense that one realizes that those before them have been lost with time. With Knep’s work this not the case. Nothing has been lost in time, only created. Both pieces were extremely interesting and I can’t say I appreciated one above the other. What I will say however is that for the moment I was there Snibbe’s piece held my interest more in the sense that I knew I wouldn’t be part of it forever and the fact that for a brief moment in time after I left the work, others would see that. That is until the seventeenth person after me walks in front of it.

Field Report 1 Schaller and The Bear Garden

Trances are rare to encounter. It’s not always that one is able to slip mentally passed the grind of the hustle and bustle of everyday and quiet the mind for any amount of time. Art seems to be the only outlet for something of this nature to even remotely occur outside of receiving hypnotic therapy or using illegal substances. Even then it happens less often than more that something can call for a patron’s complete absorption to the extent that one experiences the cessation of all thoughts and truly just observes what is there before them. I experienced this for a brief moment however when I experienced two films based off the 201’s class curriculum. I can sincerely say that I was brought into a sort of meditation with both the work of Robert Schaller and that of The Bear Garden by Andrea Leutenker.
Firstly I’d like to tip my hat off to Robert Schaller. On top of making the films, his projection work was quite impressive. The way in which he collaborated the films in which he made and the performance of their projections was remarkable. I was stunned by it visually when watching and afterward pondered the motivation for such work. What outcome was Schaller hoping for?
For me it had to have been to put the audience member in a trance. From his three projector composed story of the dancer I was completely captivated throughout its entirety. I was literally thrown from all my day’s work, expectations and misconceptions to come and just try to understand this work. This was just a prelude to the trance however. The real hallucinogenic experience came from Schaller’s riveting piece on the trees. The alternate perceptions from juxtaposing the different shots and angles in rapid succession developed my thesis of this meditative stance on these works. One second I was viewing a tree on the screen with its depth location changing quite moderately and the next minute, I was watching a collage of trees moving rapidly before my eyes. I didn’t have a second to think about the last; which all the while had put me in a trance until the very end. Only then was I able to make sense of the work and only now am I able to reiterate it.
The Bear Garden I believe was similar in motivation. The artist I believe wished to have a similar outcome as my response to Schaller’s tree piece; only for me it fell quite short. It went no where slowly. In the beginning I most certainly felt similar feelings in the work to Schaller’s. Brushing through the golden meadows following the camera was exquisitely representative of this trance like state within the film for me. I watched with great gratitude for the opportunity to become overwhelmed by it, but then this feeling honestly vanished within me. From the slow whispers in the background to the faint images of the people overcast by the colored lenses applied by Leuteneker I found myself distracted and at moments humored. Basically it was difficult for me to get into it the way Schaller’s piece did. In moments the imagery was brilliant, but the range of sounds and overlapping images really dragged me into thinking there was a little bit too much aspiration involved for its own good.
In conclusion it was Schaller’s simplicity and tempo of his film that made it work for me in completely captivating myself in this trance like state. The Bear Garden was a little extensive and at times boring for even though it contained much of the same aesthetic values as Schaller’s. Yet, Schaller’s soundless piece left my mind in silence for the moment and its visuals kept my eyes communicating with the picture the entire way through; fully embodying a trance as much as it possibly could have.

Name of my Journal

http://www.cabinetmagazine.org/