“One cannot know another time through visual information alone.” Our memories are stored in the body as much as in the mind; corporeal as much as cerebral. Films that deal with memories must, therefore, do more than simply convey sounds and images. They must speak of and to the other senses. Laurie Anderson’s experimental doco-drama Heart of a Dog animates intimate memories encoded in touch by shifting from optical to haptic vision and enabling the cinematic image to reach the “senses that are close to the body.”
As a sort of parameter, (b)order encapsulates habit. It informs the way we view and engage with what surrounds us. When he breaks open the form, Buric shatters the otherwise solidified frame of our attention and, consequently, our fixed, naturalised way of seeing. The defiance of the border of the frame is paired with the defiance of the border of the space. The multiple projection planes are suspended in space, cutting through it and resisting the confinement of the two-dimensional wall. As viewers, we are invited to move around the work and explore that which exists at the edge of perception (at its border). This shifted angle of vision is an anamorphic strategy that distorts the world picture as we know it.
“And everything starts at the airport. […] Structures that put us closer to the rest of the world and that separate us from the people who have seen us grow.”
Eastern Thoughts is a poetic, philosophical, and tender reflection on the phenomenon of travelling. Writer Marta Maia and photographer Vitor Queiroz traverse 1708 km through Cambodia, Vietnam and Thailand to bring us an inward contemplation on the feelings attached to journeying, the complexity (and complicity) of tourism, the meaning of home and belonging, our attachment to memory, and more. This book will be of interest to and a consolation for all those travelers at heart who constantly seek out for an embracing place, and are always a little bit homesick.
“Mirror of male desire, a role, an image, a value, the fetishized woman attempts to locate herself, to affirm her subjectivity within the rectangular space of another fetish – ironically enough, the ‘mirror of nature’.” Abigail Solomon-Godeau
Figure 1: Louis Pierson, The Eyes, c1864.
A mysterious femme fatale of the nineteenth century Paris, Countess Le Castiglione immortalised herself through a fascinating series of more than four hundred photographs taken over a period of forty years, the majority between 1856 and 1865 “at the height of [her] fame and beauty.” Rather than conventional portraits, these photographs record her elaborate performances in which she either restages scenes from her life or plays a variety of mythological and fictional characters. The costumes, the set-designs, and the overall scenarios were all meticulously designed and directed by the Countess herself, the photographer being there as a mere technician. More than a means of self-expression or signs of narcissism, these photographs could be understood as the Countess’ attempt to take control over her own representation and challenge the narrow, patriarchal view of previously assigned identity inscriptions, thus, asserting herself as an autonomous subject rather than a fetishized object of the gaze.
According to theorist of fetishism and photography, Abigail Solomon-Godeau, such a reading of Countess’ photographs is presumptuous because it is impossible for the Countess to occupy a critical position from which she would desire to overturn the patriarchal principles of fetishisation. As she watches herself, explains Solomon-Godeau, the Countess automatically assumes a position of a patriarchal surveyor and can only relate to herself through this patriarchal gaze. From this position, which is tainted by an inherent patriarchal scopic regime, she is unable to radically reimagine herself as anything but an object of sight. Rather than disavowing patriarchal prerogative, she participates in it and even endorses it. Solomon-Godeau writes: “a living artifact, the countess has so fully assimilated the desire of others that there is no space, language, or means of representation for any desire that might be termed her own.” Rather than an author, she is nothing more than “a scribe”.
Alexsander Rodchenko, Pioneer with a trumpet, 1930
With multi-story buildings and high scaffoldings, rapid vehicles and airplanes, the early twentieth century urban and technological developments literally revolutionized the way we see the world. Soviet era photographer Alexander Rodchenko maintained that photography must respond to the new reality of urban life and capture images from radically “different vantage points.” Rather than following the traditional belly-button or eye-level perspective (which pictorialist photographers inherited from paining) camera should capture events “from inside, from above down, and from below up.” Only in this way can camera fulfill its task and function as prosthesis of the eye, offering the view that is truer (more objective) than the naked eye could ever capture. Continue reading
“I don’t believe that gender, race, or sexuality have to be identities, I think that they’re vectors of power.” Judith Butler
Drew Pettifer, The Decisive Moment, 2009.
It is necessary to “radically challenge the entire concept of an identity based upon sexual orientation,” wrote Elizabeth Ashburn in her 1996 publication on lesbian art. Twenty years on, American feminist and queer art theorist Amelia Jones finds it necessary to echo Ashburn in her 2012 book Seeing Differently reminding us to “think beyond […] the grain of binary models of identity in favour of multiple, intersectional, and relational processes of identification.” Sexuality must converge with issues of race, gender, geographical and socio-political location, class, religion, age, etc. to reveal the immense complexity and diversity of subjectivities. Jones likens this intersectional approach to anamorphic viewing which distorts the one-point perspective to reveal a new, previously neglected viewing angle. The result of this perspectival distortion is de-objectification, de-fetishisation, and abandonment “of oppositional othering.” Continue reading
In the sixteenth and seventeenth century, symbols of vanitas and momentum mori signified fragility of life and earthly pleasures. Opulent items such as exotic food, imported wine, and luscious flowers were painted as reminders of inevitable decay and brevity of material possessions. In the twenty-first century, the idea of impermanence is explored in significantly different forms and mediums. The core message, however, remains (more-less) the same.