Derek Jarman's Blue (1993) is a 75 minute 35mm film that consists of a single static shot of the colour blue with voiceover written by Jarman himself.
In Derek Jarman’s last film Blue, the monochrome glow of the projected frame echoes the artist’s fading eyesight, as the soundtrack evokes powerful images of the mental, physical and emotional strain caused by his terminal illness. Blue was completed in 1993, the year before Jarman succumbed to AIDS-related complications. [1]
It features a variety of voices by actors including Tilda Swinton and musicians such as Brian Eno and Tony Hinnigan. The film's single colour was inspired by Jarman's visit to Tate where he found a monochrome painting by Yves Klein, hence the usage of 'International Klein Blue' pigment solution. This colour is described to be the experience of the journey from reality to the beyond.
The script, recited by actors and by Jarman himself, alternates poetry and narrative prose around different meanings and interpretations of the colour blue (melancholy, water, infinity, etc.), autobiographical episodes and invocations to a character called Blue. [1]
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Ryoji Ikeda is a Japanese artist and composer who currently lives in Paris. His test pattern project began in 2006, and his most recent one[N°12] was shown at The Store in The Strand last year. Above is test pattern [N°5]. In this test pattern Ikeda converts data into binary patterns that are generated in real-time, thereby submerging the viewer into a confusing, strange and chaotic environment that benefits greatly from the sound design. Loud, ear-piercing noises and long periods of silence don't allow the viewer to settle for a moment.
Probing the essential characteristics of sound and light, Ikeda’s work bridges the worlds of art and music and challenges fundamental preconceptions of both through the intensity of his installations. [2]
BIBLIOGRAPHY:
[1] Derek Jarman: Blue. At: http://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-modern/display/derek-jarman-blue (Accessed on 18/2/18) [2] Anton Spice (2017) Ryoji Ikeda premieres mind-bending new A/V artwork test pattern[N°12]at Store Studios. At: https://thevinylfactory.com/news/ryoji-ikeda-new-test-pattern-n12-store-studios/(Accessed on 20/2/18)
My six-piece series is of a Sunday. I thought I could just take photos throughout the day to create a diary of the day. Visually the photos might not look like they are a journey at first glance, but I quite liked changing the way I captured the images as the day progressed. I tried to mess around with the framing and depth of field a little. The first one was taken on the train. It's framed so it's only his eye and cheek in shot. The second one is his reflection in the window of an empty furniture shop. The third one is the side of his face in the park. The fourth one is the top of his head as he focuses on the video game. The fifth one is taken through the gap between him and his hands of a stranger in a coffee shop. The final one is an out of focus long shot portrait.
I like that none of them are actually a detailed portrait of his face but when all together they not only create that kind of sense of journey but also a sketch of him to fill out the blanks. Like I wrote before - 'Imagination is stronger than reality.'
I took over a hundred and fifty photos in one day so actually choosing six was the hardest part. I was tempted to add some images that weren't even portraits, or simply didn't go with the atmosphere of the story I was going for.
I wasn't very certain as to what the starting point for my portrait series was going to be until I saw Martha Rosler's Make-up Hands Up. I had never really thought about how close I was to the subject in my images - only how far. In this image one can only see a part of the woman's face, filled with wonderful, warm colour.
This made me think about how for most of my images I only use an aspect ratio of 4x5 or 5x7, only occasionally wandering further and using 1x1. I like the length of the image, and I also love the fact that the whole of the person's face cannot be seen.
The square image on the lady's eye is also something that I find quite fascinating. It's black and white, it's larger than her eye, it's the main focus of this photomontage. And yet it is the fact that it doesn't belong within the image that makes it so important.
To me series means a narrative. It doesn't have to be a flow, it could be parts of a thought - but there has to be a connection. I've always adored things that are, for lack of a better word, aesthetic. I like my images to be similar in theme and colours, same in size, otherwise I feel like there is a disruption within what I'm trying to convey, and I feel uncomfortable with the outcome. I realise that perhaps this is something I could challenge with this series of portraits.
In the previous project I was particularly inspired by Yokomizo's series Dear Stranger, but one of my favourite photographers is actually someone who keeps a photo diary.
Jari Silomäki (born 1975) is a photographer based in Helsinki, Finland. His work captures scenes of nature and street, and intertwines them with news of the world. This is what spoke to me the most the first time I saw the images - the idea of simplicity and beauty merged with something that is so out of the artist's control.
I have always been interested in adding meaning to something seemingly unusual. I've always felt like photography allows me to capture what's going on in my head. I've always taken pleasure in imagining what soundtrack the drive through my hometown's forest would have, or what the voice doing the voiceover for my melancholic beach visits would sound like. What connected those was my need to show people how I felt - to create something so expressive that people would know and understand exactly how I felt. Everything around us has exactly as much meaning as we add to it.
'I woke up to Brexit. A moment after I took this picture the petrol can in my friend's hand exploded.'
'Warm July evening at the lake Kuivasjärvi. A moment ago a Malaysian airline flight MH17 was shot down in the east Ukraine.'
About two years ago I emailed Jari whilst he was travelling around Eastern Europe. I wanted to know what My Weather Diary meant to him. He replied by saying he wasn't ever looking for a 'good' image, instead staying true to himself by taking a single photo per day, one that he felt did justice to what he felt and also captured his thoughts. For him taking a photo has become a mechanical movement, a part of his life and that's what his series represent.
There are series that require more accuracy but in My Weather Diary it doesn't matter if there are flaws or mistakes on the surface of the image because that's what it is - a diary - and it doesn't need to be perfect. It's there to capture moments worth remembering.
Another photograph that really spoke to me was This Photograph is my Proof by Duane Michals. Similarly to Jari's photographs, the image itself doesn't necessarily hold as much meaning the first time you see it as it does when you look at it after reading the text underneath.
'This photograph is my proof. There was that afternoon, when things were still good between us, and she embraced me, and we were so happy. It did happen, she did love me. Look see for yourself!'
So with these in mind, I've currently come up with a bunch of ideas that don't quite link together just yet. I know I want to focus on doing more close-ups, and I want to experiment with the aspect racio of my images. I think I'm still interested in including text. Recently whilst in a shop I was looking at their prints of recipes (image on one side, recipe on the other) and this idea's been stuck in my head as well, refusing to leave.
On top of that, I made myself purchase a box of small, triangle-shaped mirrors and dried a bunch of flowers. The mirrors are in response to this video (at 00:21) by BØRNS and I can't really explain why but the shot of his reflection in this mirror - an object that everyone has in their homes - that is also uniquely shaped really spoke to me.
Similarly to this, I was also fascinated by this photo by Rupi Kaur. I feel like there's something really interesting about the idea of a poet being muted by something that they use as metaphors.
And lastly, a thing that's been echoing in my head since the lecture a few days ago - 'Imagination is stronger than reality.'
There's a lot going on in my head and I'm not quite sure where this one's going to take me.
A timelapse of an empty day going by. (this is edit number two. edit one is here)
I don't think this was a successful attempt at working with time, mostly because my mind went blank and the only idea within it was a timelapse. I like timelapses because of the fluid way the image changes, and the fact that when you start, you don't know what you're going to end up with.
The timelapse in this video is reversed and consists of 45 minutes of footage sped up by 5000 percent. It's also reversed, and as my camera recorded it into four different files, I slowed each file down by 4 frames using Premiere Pro's 'Posterize Time' to interrupt this flow of time that the smooth timelapse created. The very start of this video is a very strange scene I happened to wander upon with multiple large lights turning on and off constantly for about ten minutes, which I thought was quite hypnotising.
The audio was a short journey between Charing Cross and Embankment on the underground, lasting fourty seven seconds (recorded on a Zoom and with a hallway reverb)
[..] but the most striking thing is the way that the machine pulls on your heart. you can actually feel it struggling to beat and changing shape…flattening inside of your chest. Its similar to that horrible sinking, tugging heartache that comes only with complete and overwhelming sadness. and then you pass out.
This is one of the heaviest videos I've seen in a while and it's not necessarily what it looks like - it's where it takes place and what it symbolises. Filmed inside a human centrifuge, they ran it eighteen times to get the lead singer to perform the whole of the song. His facial expressions change and the sweat on his forehead tells about the intensity of the experience. It is so strange to watch that I still haven't figured out exactly how it was recorded and edited. I just thought this was a fascinating video to do with time, movement and sense of heaviness.
In recent mainstream films one of my favourite uses of time was actually in Dunkirk. They used three different timelines, counting down to the main event: a week, a day, an hour and they took place in three different areas: air, sea and land.
These locations and times created a sort of a triptych - three unlinked pathways that all lead up to the big revelation. I found it amazing how the film changed between the times, relying on the spectator to keep up with what storyline they were following at that particular time. Needless to say, it was also the beautiful camerawork from Nolan and van Hoytema that played with the feeling of time, silence and chaos.
