#punctum project

[professorspork]

hello, and welcome to the

Punctum Project*･ﾟ✧

what the heck does that mean, you ask?

well! the INCREDIBLY short version is that in his critical work Camera Lucida, Roland Barthes talks about how a photograph can be broken into two things: the studium -- aka the text and context, the STUFF of it, everything that makes it understandable as itself -- and the punctum: the wounding detail that gets you in the chest and makes it personal

in my ongoing efforts to watch an ungodly number of Wicked bootlegs, I'm going to be posting just ONE detail from every production I see. not necessarily my favorite thing, or the most important thing, but a tiny memorable OOMPH that will stick with me.

(I may at times cheat but JUST PICK ONE is truly the goal here)

so today, we start at the beginning:

October 12, 2003 - Broadway Previews. Idina Menzel, Kristin Chenoweth, Norbert Leo Butz

What:

"Elphaba. It's not lying. It's looking at things... another way."

How come:

Look, it is HARD to play Fiyero. You've gotta thread the needle of being charming and funny and a little vapid without coming off like an asshole, while also having good chemistry with often diametrically opposite leading women. It's a tall task, and I think a lot of Fiyeros get around it by being, well... almost painfully earnest. Especially in act 2, especially in this scene. But the problem with responding to Elphaba's "I wish I could be beautiful for you" by saying "it's looking at things another way" SWEETLY is that you're then giving her that ground and reinforcing her whole "I'm not like other girls I am uniquely wrong and bad" brainworms.

and what's wild is that Norbert did NOT THAT AT ALL, but the precedent has been completely lost to time

he's sharp with her-- "Elphaba," -- then makes her look at him only to not admonish her (despite his palpable frustration) but instead frame her like art, his voice going soft and goofy as he says the next line because

crucially

he's not actually indulging in her insecurities at all. he's trying to make her laugh and snap her out of them.

in my other Norbert boot he says "looking at things another way" even jokier than he does here, but this first time was like, almost breathtaking for me because it was so different from what I expected. he's GOOD for her. and after he DOES make her giggle, he squeezes her shoulder to show her just how much he means it.

A+ 10/10

[cometomecosette]

Standout moments from "Les Mis" recordings, 1993-'96

My Les Mis watch- and listen-through has reached the mid '90s. Once again, I'm citing the moments both from complete video and audio bootlegs and from official cast recordings that stand out the most for me. Again, thanks to @professorspork with her Wicked Punctum Project for inspiring me.

1993 South Korean proshot video

(unknown cast)

Valjean's death tableau from the novel recreated onstage.

Like the original Israeli and Hungarian productions, the original South Korean production of Les Mis was non-replica, and heavily cut too. But some of its inventive staging choices are worth noticing. This is one of the smaller ones, but it stands out the most to me. In the final scene, Marius is much more anguished than usual as he begs Valjean’s forgiveness and recounts how he saved him, fairly breaking down in remorse as he kneels by the dying man’s side. Meanwhile, Cosette is already kneeling at her father’s other side, and Valjean comforts them both. The result is a near-perfect recreation of the way Hugo describes Valjean’s last moments, with Marius and Cosette kneeling in tears on either side of him and holding his hands. A tableau that was one of the novel’s iconic images in its day, which inspired many 19th century illustrators to draw it, but which isn’t featured in most productions of the musical.

Honorable Mentions:

*In “Who Am I?” the courtroom appears behind Valjean from the beginning of the song’s main verses. As Valjean sings, we see a pantomime of Javert delivering his testimony, Champmathieu pleading in vain, and the judges listening impassively, in front of a red curtain that adds a hellish ambience.

*In the “Waltz of Treachery,” when the Thénardiers are pretending to fawn over little Cosette, Mme. Thénardier gives her Éponine’s doll. Cosette thinks the doll is really hers to keep and cradles it adoringly, but just before she leaves with Valjean, Mme. T. heartlessly snatches it back from her. This makes it all the sweeter when Valjean gives her a real gift (an anachronistic teddy bear instead of a doll, but whatever) a few moments later.

*In “Look Down,” Éponine works as a flower girl, like an even poorer and grubbier Eliza Doolittle. When Valjean and Cosette enter, she tries to sell them a flower, and in doing so, she glimpses Cosette’s face and recognizes her from their childhood.

*Javert wears a fake beard to the barricade, which Gavroche rips off during “Little People.” Really.

*During the wedding, Cosette is with Marius and the Thénardiers during their interaction, and Mme. Thénardier feigns excessive friendliness to her. Thus, she gets a shocking reminder of her childhood trauma, she hears the whole revelation of how Valjean saved Marius (although Marius still explains it to her in the next scene – presumably because she didn’t know that “Jean Valjean” was her father), and since Marius’s lines about Éponine are uncut, she’s visibly shaken to hear of Éponine’s death too.

1994 Japanese Red Cast Recording

Takeshi Kaga (Jean Valjean), Kunio Murai (Javert), Yuhko Ema (Fantine), Takashi Sasano (Thénardier), Rika Sugimura (Mme. Thénardier), Kaho Shimada (Éponine), Kazutaka Ishii (Marius), Akira Tomemori (Enjolras), Yuhko Miyamoto (Cosette)

Kaho Shimada’s “Attack on Rue Plumet.”

Of the six Japanese cast recordings of Les Mis, this one seems to be the only one easy to obtain in the US, and it features Kaho Shimada reprising her role as Éponine from the original 1987 Tokyo cast and from the Complete Symphonic Recording. As a seasoned performer in the role, and this time singing in her native Japanese, she brings a whole new level of passion and vividness to her performance on this recording, especially in “Attack on Rue Plumet.” Her (Japanese equivalent of) “I’m gonna scream, I’m gonna warn them here!” sounds frantic and feral, as does her half-spoken “Well, I told you I’d do it! I told you I’d do it!” Her raw fear, anger, and desperation transcend language, and though she’s never been an Éponine who can do a classic high-pitched scream, the fierce animalistic screech she utters instead is fully effective. Adding to the scene’s rawness is the fact that during Claquesous’ “What a palaver…” we hear Thénardier slapping her twice!

Honorable Mention:

*The Javert of Kunio Murai (a.k.a. the Japanese voice of Harrison Ford) softly yet madly laughing after “I am reaching, but I fall” in “Javert’s Suicide.”

10th Anniversary Concert

Colm Wilkinson (Jean Valjean), Phillip Quast (Javert), Ruthie Henshall (Fantine), Alun Armstrong (Thénardier), Jenny Galloway (Mme. Thénardier), Lea Salonga (Éponine), Michael Ball (Marius), Michael Maguire (Enjolras), Judy Kuhn (Cosette)

The moment of Éponine’s death.

Most Les Mis fans seem to agree that Lea Salonga and Michael Ball give us an especially poignant rendition of “A Little Fall of Rain” in this concert. And of that rendition, it’s the very end that stands out for me. The way Lea draws out her last note on “…flowers…” so that her voice sweetly blends with Michael’s, then gives him one last tender glance before her eyes close and her head falls lifeless against his chest. Michael’s soft, short “…grow,” which sounds as if Marius is so overwhelmed with emotion that he can barely utter the word. And the way he tenderly caresses her hair and kisses the top of her head, then mournfully cradles her body. Even though this is a concert with the performers standing in front of mics, this moment is just as tender and poignant as it is in any fully staged performance.

Honorable Mentions:

*Colm Wilkinson’s fearsome “I will see it DONE!!!” at the end of “Fantine’s Arrest.”

*Ruthie Henshall’s shimmering, ethereal tone as she trails away her final note on “…and I’ll see her when I wake!” We seem to hear Fantine’s spirit rising to heaven on that note.

*Hannah Chick getting startled by an accidental balloon pop during "Castle on a Cloud," but continuing the song without missing a beat.

*Alun Armstrong and Jenny Galloway’s pantomime bickering as the Thénardiers at the end of “Master of the House.”

*Michael Maguire’s “Lamarque is dead…” in which at first, he seems to reel in grief, but then suddenly realizes that this can be the catalyst for their revolution, and then rallies his friends with mounting excitement that finally becomes ecstatic fervor.

*Lea Salonga’s fierce and angry “Without me, his world will go on turning” in “On My Own.” The melancholy waif Éponine of the ‘80s is gone: this girl is a fiery urchin and she’s mad at Marius for not returning her love. (Not that I entirely like seeing her played that way, but it’s a choice that stands out.)

*Michael Maguire placing his hand on Anthony Crivello’s shoulder after the latter’s solo in “Drink with Me.” It’s a small gesture, but it shows that by this time in the musical’s history, everyone seems to agree that Enjolras and Grantaire should have some meaningful interaction in this moment.

*Philip Quast loosening one lock of his hair to convey the unhinging of his mind during “Javert’s Suicide.”

Original Duisburg Cast Recording

Jerzy Jeszke (Jean Valjean), Hartwig Rudolz (Javert), Cornelia Drese (Fantine), Tom Zahner (Thénardier), Anne Welte (Mme. Thénardier), Sanni Luis (Éponine), Felix Martin (Marius), Martin Berger (Enjolras), Deborah Dutcher (Cosette)

The Foreman’s “Right, my girl. On your way!” (or rather “Tja, mein Schatz. Raus mit dir!”)

Again, it’s not easy to choose a standout moment from a highlights recording. But I finally chose one, although it doesn’t involve any of the leads. It’s the way that Steffen Friedrich as the Foreman delivers the German equivalent of “Right, my girl. On your way!” (Which literally translates as “Well, my darling. Out with you!”) In my experience, very few actors deliver “On your way!” as a full-blown ferocious shout: yes, Michael McCarthy and Jeff Nicholson in the anniversary concerts both roar it, but that seems to be precisely because those performances are grand-scale concerts. Most actors in my experience either just snap it or else speak it in a chillingly quiet voice. This German actor is the first Foreman I’ve heard outside of a concert who truly shouts the line, in a vicious snarling tone. Poor Fantine.

1996 Duisburg proshot video

Jerzy Jeszke (Jean Valjean), Hartwig Rudolz (Javert), Cornelia Drese (Fantine), Tom Zahner (Thénardier), Anne Welte (Mme. Thénardier), Sanni Luis (Éponine), Felix Martin (Marius), Martin Berger (Enjolras), Deborah Dutcher (Cosette)

Felix Martin’s reserved grief for Éponine.

I’ve chosen the same moment here that I did for the 10th Anniversary Concert, but here it’s played very differently. Felix Martin is a reserved and gentlemanly Marius, nowhere near as amiable and effusive as Michael Ball, and Sanni Luis’s ruggedly vulnerable Éponine clearly belongs to a different world than he does. He treats her with amusement and sympathy, but not as a close friend. But as she brings him to Cosette, protects them from the gang, and ultimately dies for him at the barricade, he sees her in a new light and learns her true value. His reaction to her death suits this arc and his personality in general. At first glance it might seem cold: no tears, no kiss, no cradling, just a long, motionless, sadly disbelieving stare at her body. But as he stays in that stance even after she’s carried away, it becomes clear that he’s shaken to the core by her passing. Especially when he finally picks up her hat and gently presses it to his heart.

Honorable Mentions:

*At the end of "Master of the House," instead of the standard closing comic business (i.e. Thénardier drinks his own bad homemade wine, runs to the kitchen, and throws up), Mme. Thénardier withdraws into the kitchen gulping the wine, and her husband follows her, angry that she just humiliated him in front of everyone. He snatches the jug from her, and they get into a vicious pantomime argument, seeming about to come to blows as the turntable sweeps them out of sight.

*Felix’s Marius putting his hand on Enjolras’s shoulder as the latter sings “…before the barricades arise?” and smiling idealistically at Enjolras’s vision. This one quick moment establishes Marius’s devotion to Enjolras as a friend and to their cause, setting the stage for his inner conflict when romance threatens to interfere.

*Valjean hugging Cosette on “Cosette, my child, what will become of you?” and Cosette resting her head on his chest, as if she really did just have a bad fright and wants comfort. A sweet, tender father/daughter moment in a scene that’s not always played for tenderness… yet with a double edge, because Cosette is lying to Valjean to hide Marius’s presence.

*Enjolras rallying his friends during “One Day More!” Martin Berger doesn’t just stand with his rifle aloft throughout his solo lines: he does it briefly at first, but then he turns and interacts with the other Amis, touching their shoulders, addressing them individually, and actively being a leader and friend to them, not just a figurehead of revolution.

[jazzzzaj]

Quadrilateral Sound Exchange

Roadmovie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7FKegTouHU

Helyszínen rögzített zajok és improvizatív zenei koncertek dokumentációja fonódik össze a road movie-ban, ami végigvezeti a nézőt négy város egyedi hangulatán. A zenészek először találkoznak egymással. A film betekintést ad a Jazzaj Egyesület által szervezett improvizációs koncertturné világába.

A Quadrilateral Sound Exchange turné alatt négy állomáson, Pozsonyban, Prágában, Poznańban és végül Budapesten két-két koncertet és egy-egy workshopot tartottunk. Egyrészt a JazzaJ által összeállított quartet – Daniel Kordik (SK - elektronika), Ian Mikyska (CZ - viola da gamba, gitár), Paulina Owczarek (PL - altszaxofon) és Gyárfás Attila (HU - dob, gardon) – utazott városról városra, másrészt helyi zenészek játszottak korábban ki nem próbált felállásokban. A workshopokat Rubik Ernő Zoltán tartotta a turné zenészeivel közösen. A QSE célja az volt, hogy a régió zenészei jobban megismerjék és inspirálják egymást, szorosabb együttműködések indulhassanak el Pozsony, Prága, Poznań és Budapest improvizációs zenei szcénái között.

A QSE projekt a Visegrad Fund támogatásával jött létre.

április 23-30.

JazzaJ Quadrilateral Sound Exchange Tour Movie – Four People, Four Cities Recorded on location, noise and improvisational concert footage are intertwined in a road movie that takes the viewer through the unique atmosphere of four cities. The musicians meet each other for the first time. The film gives an insight into the world of the improvisational concert tour organised by JazzaJ.

During the Quadrilateral Sound Exchange tour we held two concerts and one workshop in Bratislava, Prague, Poznań and finally in Budapest. The quartet assembled by JazzaJ – Daniel Kordik (SK - electronics), Ian Mikyska (CZ - viola da gamba, guitar), Paulina Owczarek (PL - alto saxophone) and Attila Gyárfás (HU - drums, gardon) – travelled from city to city, while local musicians played in previously untried line-ups. The workshops were held by Ernő Zoltán Rubik together with the QSE quartet. The aim of the project was to get to know and inspire musicians from the region better, and to start closer collaborations between the improvisational music scenes of Bratislava, Prague, Poznań and Budapest. Quadrilateral Sound Exchange is co-financed by the Governments of the Czechia, Hungary, Poland and Slovakia through Visegrad Grants from International Visegrad Fund.

The mission of the fund is to advance ideas for sustainable regional cooperation in Central Europe.

April 23–30, 2024

Film by Ká Zoltán Musicians: Paulina Owczarek – alto saxophone Daniel Kordik – electronics Ian Mikyska – viola da gamba, electric guitar Attila Gyárfás – drums, gardon JazzaJ crew: Ernő Zoltán Rubik – organiser, workshops Zoltán Papp – organiser Máté Tóth – organiser Nóra Balkányi – podcast, interviews Ká Zoltán – video, interviews Sanna Bo – project management Bratislava: Daniel Vadas, Štefan Szabó / T3 Prague: Martin Debřička, Michal Wroblewski / Punctum Poznań: Pawe�� Doskocz / Dragon

[wellbehavedsuit]

MASQUE

Book with Images found on Delcampe & edited by Maarten Dings (2022)

When doing research on a project about the moon I accidentally stumbled upon an image described as ‘effet de lune’ on Delcampe; an online marketplace for collectors of all kinds. The picture displayed somebody's bare buttocks and was also rendered with a white square blocking from view the main topic or (as photography enthusiasts could argue) punctum of the image. Intrigued by the unintentionally enriched esthetic quality of the image I further explored the website looking for similar specimens. This frivolous publication collects images found during these scabrous pursuits.

The result is some sort of catalogue showing ways to veil various intimate bodyparts and/or explicitly erotic scenery. In present times, with pornographic images so overtly available, these attempts to obscure parts of it come across somewhat straight-laced. Regrettably, the methods on display are rarely used to solely anonymize (and thus protect) the people depicted but rather to safeguard commodities from further undesirable usage. In an idle attempt to somewhat reinstate the models privacy I’ve cropped the images by placing their facial features outside of the paper edge; fully aware that in doing so I am furthermore reducing them to bodies and establishing their mercantile value.

[r1057322]

Birds have been the main source of inspiration for my project, hence I started drawing them occasionally, trying to figure out their personalities and anatomy. Here is how I defined my interest throughout the research process:

Punctum for birds:

They seem to be everywhere and it is easy to observe glimpses of their interactions with one another. Also, the powerful imagery of a flock of birds flying together across the sky. This sense of unity evokes feelings of admiration in me, with even a small dose of envy. The birds I find particularly interesting are crows. Highly intelligent, independent but also part of a flock. Ominous but somewhat friendly.

[cppsheffield]

Centre for Poetry and Poetics, Sheffield Presents:

Lisa Samuels - Adam Piette - Ágnes Lehóczky& the launch of three new poetry collections

An in person event to celebrate the release and launch of three latest collections. Join us for three readings and three book launches, from 6:30pm.

Adam Piette is Professor of Modern Literature at the University of Sheffield, and is the author of Remembering and the Sound of Words: Mallarmé, Proust, Joyce, Beckett, Imagination at War: British Fiction and Poetry, 1939-1945, The Literary Cold War, 1945 to Vietnam. He co-edits the international poetry journal Blackbox Manifold with Alex Houen. Adam will be launching 'Nights as Dreaming' (Constitutional Information, 2023).

Lisa Samuels works with experimental writing, multi-modal art, and relational theory in transnational life. She is the author of fourteen books, from The Seven Voices (O Books 1998) to Breach (Boiler House 2021), many poetry chapbooks, and influential essays on theories of power, interpretation, and the body. Samuels regularly collaborates with composers and movement artists, edits literary work, and performs internationally. Her novel Tender Girl is newly published in Serbian as Mekana Devojka (2022, translator Milan Pupezin), a new poetry book, Livestream, is out in 2023 with Shearsman Books, and a book of her selected essays, Imagining what we don't know: creative theory and critical bodies, is forthcoming with punctum books. Samuels is Professor of English & Drama at the University of Auckland in New Zealand.

Ágnes Lehóczky's poetry collections published in the UK are Budapest to Babel (Egg Box Publishing, 2008), Rememberer (Egg Box Publishing, 2012), Carillonneur (Shearsman Books, 2014) and Swimming Pool (Shearsman, 2017). She has also three poetry collections in Hungarian published in Budapest: Ikszedik stáció (Universitas, 2000), Medalion (Universitas, 2002) and Palimpszeszt (Magyar Napló, 2015). She is the author of the academic monograph on the poetry of Ágnes Nemes Nagy Poetry, the Geometry of Living Substance (2011). She was winner of the Jane Martin Prize for Poetry at Girton College, Cambridge, in 2011. Her pamphlet Pool Epitaphs and Other Love Letters was published by Boiler House in May 2017. She co-edited major international anthologies: the Sheffield Anthology; Poems from the City Imagined (Smith / Doorstop, 2012) with Adam Piette and recently The World Speaking Back to Denise Riley (Boiler House, 2017) with Zoë Skoulding and Wretched Strangers (Boiler House, 2018) with J. T. Welsch. Among other collaborative projects, she recently worked with The Roberts Institute of Art, London. She is Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing, Programme Convenor of the MA in Creative Writing and Director of the Centre for Poetry and Poetics at the University of Sheffield. Her new collection Lathe Biosas, or on Dreams & Lies, part of a larger project, was published by Crater Press in 2023.

Location and Timings10th of May – 6.30pm (book launches): Diamond, - LT 5, University of Sheffield

Please note we will be launching three new collections by the three writers; books will be on sale during the evening (alas, no cards).

This is an event designed to be in person so we would love to see you there. If you can't travel, an online link will be available (see below). I

f you attend online, please do log in on time (by no later than 6.25pm so we can start the reading and recording smoothly and on time):meet.google.com/qho-ssxi-yxm

[paralleljulieverse]

From the Archives: ‘Shall I be Mum?’ Julie Andrews having tea with mother, Barbara, in the family home on the young star’s return from New York, 1 October 1955.

In his classic treatise on photography, La chambre claire / Camera Lucida, Roland Barthes (1980) argues that the elemental power of a photograph, its ‘special genius’, lies in its unique combination of ontology and subjectivity. The mechanical nature of photographic reproduction endows photos with a ‘having-been-there’ quality, a frozen moment of time and space, that sustains both cognitive curiosity and emotional poignancy. Barthes calls the former dimension the studium, the historical and cultural ‘infra-knowledge’ that a photograph provides, its capacity to render richly descriptive details of time and place. The second dimension is more intimate in nature and it is what Barthes calls the punctum, a Latin word meaning wound, sting or cut (the same root for English words like puncture and punctuation). It is the aspect of a photo that affects us emotionally and moves us in ways that can be deeply personal, even idiosyncratic. The punctum, writes Barthes, is the ‘element which rises from the scene, shoots out of it like an arrow, and pierces me’ (26). 

This 1955 press photo of Julie Andrews and her mother is a compelling evocation of both Barthesian axes of photographic allure: observational studium and affective punctum. In terms of the former, much of the immediate interest of the image comes from the glimpse it provides of celebrity home-life. An example of the popular photographic genre of ‘stars-at-home’, the image trades openly on the voyeuristic lure of peering into the private world of a public figure. In this case, Julie had just returned to England after her triumphant star-making year in The Boy Friend on Broadway, and the image accentuates the interplay between the extraordinariness of her newly-minted international celebrity -- all radiant cosmetic smiles and neatly-tailored tweed suits -- with the disarming ordinariness of the surrounding domestic mise-en-scène. 

Indeed, decades later, the photo is significant for the added historical insight it offers into Julie’s beloved childhood home, the Old Meuse. Between the cottage ware teapot, floral chintz armchair, and Axminster rug, the photo is a veritable compendium of mid-century English suburban style. The rows of neatly-lined leather-bound books, silverware ornaments, and vase of cut flowers in the background add a further touch of aspirational petit-bourgeois respectability. And, zooming in to the plate of sweet biscuits on the tea tray, it looks as if Barbara even broke open a box of Huntley and Palmers Assorted Creams for the occasion! 

But what possibly engages most in the photograph -- and what pushes the image squarely into the affective realm of the punctum, at least for this viewer-- is its weighted staging of mother-daughter relationality. Other than a homecoming, it was Julie’s 20th birthday and the shot fairly pulsates with the poignant ambivalence of generational succession. Hovering behind and above Julie, Barbara recedes into the background, one hand seeming to urge her star daughter forward, while the other appears to hold on to her. Then, as if in a chiaroscuro expressionist film, Barbara’s shadow is projected larger-than-life on to the wall of the Old Meuse. 

Julie has commented widely on the close but complicated relationship she had with her mother. ‘My mother was terribly important to me,’ she writes in her 2008 memoir, ‘and I know how much I yearned for her in my youth, but I don’t think I truly trusted her’ (18). Taken almost 67 years ago, this photo speaks poignantly to those conflicted dynamics, if not to the knotty emotional interplay at the heart of all parent-child relationships.

Sources:

Andrews, Julie (2008) Home: A Memoir of My Early Years. London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson. 

Barthes, Roland (1980) Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. Translated by R. Howard. New York: Hill and Wang.

© 2022, Brett Farmer. All Rights Reserved

[wordgoods]

punctum | ˈpəNG(k)təm [photography / philosophy]

punctum: that moment captured in a photograph that means something slightly different to everyone, and that challenges you, making it difficult to understand why it’s so moving.

The punctum points to those features of a photograph that seem to produce or convey a meaning without invoking any recognizable symbolic system. This kind of meaning is unique to the response of the individual viewer of the image. [...Roland] Barthes insists that the punctum is not simply the sum of desires projected into the photograph. Instead, it arises from details that are unintended or uncontrolled by the photographer. Photography can be distinguished from painting or drawing in that its apparatus visualizes the world automatically rather than being wholly informed by the interventions of the photographer. The theory of the punctum speaks the indexical nature of the photographic medium. It also accounts for the importance of emotion and subjectivity in interacting with photographs. [source.] 

[eldritchqueerture]

Point of View - Original Statement Fic

Point of View (5004 words) by LadyNikita Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Original Statement Giver(s) (The Magnus Archives) Additional Tags: Statement Fic (The Magnus Archives), Original Statement (The Magnus Archives), this was intended as the eye but evolved into the vast as well, happens, cosmic horror, attempt at Eldritch Madness, unreality, Discussions of pointlessness and meaninglessness, Canon-Typical The Vast Content (The Magnus Archives), from the eps about space, Mentions of Death, Compulsion, discussions of free will (kind of), Dissociation, Panic, Mentions of addiction, Leitner Book (The Magnus Archives), except it was not possessed by Leitner, Pretty Colours <3, Neurodivergent Protagonist, Queer Protagonist, because I can project a bit as a treat, Can Be Read Without Prior Knowledge of the Podcast (I think)

Summary: "Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?" --- Statement of Lyria Ellison regarding a different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

Notes: Hiiiiii <3 I've been reading Lovecraft recently and as much as I hate the dude, The Colour Out of Space gave me so much inspiration that I immediately sat down and produced this in one sitting. I've been meaning to play with the concept of eldritch madness for a while; something about this trope is really appealing to me and I'm really enjoying my attempts at shaping it with words. Lyria is a preexisting OC of mine, I will give some background on her in the end notes because I love her very much. This is a form of practice for me; I'm playing with horror themes and I'd like to get acquainted with them to better incorporate them into my overall writing. Therefore I will accept constructive criticism if anyone wants to give it, but only in the form of DMs, either on Tumblr (your-queer-vampire-dm) or on Discord, if we know each other through a server. All of the warnings I think should be mentioned are in the tags, but if you think something should be added then please tell me!

Date: May 10th , 2018

Name: Lyria Ellison

Subject of experience: A different point of view and the dangers of knowledge.

—

How do you start telling a story that changed your heart, your mind, and your soul so profoundly that you can barely still function in a society? How do you say all that without sounding borderline insane? Nobody knows what I’ve seen, what I’ve been through. I know they would all say I’ve hallucinated it all and should seek treatment. But I know it won’t help. I know… I know so much now. Too much and not enough. Never enough. I know what happened was real . I don’t have proof so I’m guessing you won’t believe me either, but I need to tell someone about it. So I might as well tell you.

My name is Lyria Ellison and I’m a neuropsychology major. Ex-major, I should say. I dropped out after… Yeah. I dropped out; there’s not much point in continuing studying things about the feeble, insignificant human brain. Utterly pointless venture.

Humans crave understanding. They strive towards knowing more and more, that’s what all science is about, isn’t it? To study, to learn and understand; to seek answers to questions. But are we really equipped to handle the answers we seek? Even if we were able to reach them, are our minds advanced enough to grasp the truths about the world we live in? What if there are things just beyond our understanding, lurking in the shadows of reality, peeking into our world just enough to feed on us, on our uncertainty and our pathetic scrambling towards answers that would only bring madness?

Just a year ago, I was convinced I was going to finish my degree. I was so passionate about it too, eager to learn more and more, to research and seek knowledge. Curious and fascinated by the world around us. What a foolish thing it was to give into that drive. My mind was open to the supernatural, although I always approached it scientifically; I never said the supernatural existed, but I also never said it didn’t. It was plausible; all in all, every scientist must accept that there is still a vast amount of knowledge we don’t have about the world.

The ignorance was a blessing. But I shall not get ahead of myself.

It started around December last year; my dad had died, and my girlfriend, Shawala, and I were clearing out his house. There wasn’t really anyone else to do it; my mother had passed a couple years prior, I had no siblings, and extended family was out of the picture as well; and my dad had gathered a lot of things in his adventurous life; he was a traveller, and he loved the world, loved learning about it, just like me. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed with it all; my dad meant a lot to me back then, and Shawala proved an excellent support at that first shock. She promised to do some first view assessments of the ground floor, while I went to scope out how things looked in the attic.

It’s always either basements or attics, isn’t it? I used to read horror, Lovecraftian was my favourite – how ironic, isn’t it? How stupid . How utterly ignorant. The hubris of the human race at its finest.

Anyways, the attic was half-lit from the small windows in the roof, and dust was swirling in the faint light of the afternoon sun. It was cold here, but I didn’t pay much mind; the house was old, and it wasn’t surprising that there was draft. To say the space was cluttered would be an understatement; I could barely walk around the numerous boxes, old furniture, crates, and overflowing bookshelves; all of which made something in my chest curl tight, bringing tears to my eyes. I steered my steps towards the nearest bookshelf; I’ve always been a bookworm, fascinated by nearly any tome I came across; I’ve been reading popular science books since I was eight. So naturally, I was drawn to the books, taking huge steps above the cardboard boxes and careful not to hit anything else.

The books were old, of course, and dusty. Some of them had loose pages, and I treated them very gently, almost reverently. I have a little bit of a bookbinder streak, and I decided I would take them home and try to put them back together. As I rifled through them, I saw they pertained to a vast variety of subjects, from poetry, drama, and history, to science, metaphysics, and maths. The deeper I looked into this stunning collection, the more reverence rose in my heart; at my fingertips I had the oldest and the biggest accumulation of knowledge I had ever seen. I saw some books dated back even two hundred years ago.

At that point Shawala called me to check if I was alright. I put the book I had in my hands back and my knuckles brushed against the black leather cover of the next one on the shelf. I felt pleasant tingling in my palm at the touch and my heart leaped at the prospect; I didn’t know why –  the book seemed ordinary enough on the shelf and there was no title on its spine.

I sometimes wonder if I could have just left it there and gone downstairs; chosen to come back later and then maybe, it wouldn’t have enticed me as it did. If, by that point, I had had any choice left on the matter.

Alas, intrigued by the book, I placed my palm on the spine and took it out. The leather was soft and smooth, probably sheep, with familiar subtle grains all over the texture. I remember it striked me as odd that it was warmer than the rest of the books in the drafty attic, but I shrugged it off. The front cover had a title, small but visible in the centre, etched in gold – Punctum Visus .

I, by all means, cannot read or speak Latin, but I figured it was something to do with vision. I opened the book, an unknown anticipation buzzing in my stomach. The pages were worn and old, their texture was slightly rough but pleasant under my fingertips; as I opened the front page, I saw the title again, this time in thick but still elegant, black letters, and the smell came up to my nostrils.

I tried to describe it in my head countless times after. I always loved the smell of old books, and I knew it very well, so it came to me as a surprise to realize it wasn’t the only smell I could feel from the book. It was… cold, somehow, distant but prickling at my nose, a little bit the way peppermint tastes. It reminded me of the night sky and distant stars somehow. The smell awakened an unease within me, as I couldn’t quite place what it was and why it seemed so weird , but it wasn’t by any means unpleasant. It was… enticing. Like a promise of a mystery.

I breathed it in again through my nose, closing my eyes, and for a moment I lost all feeling in my body. I was untethered and immaterial, somewhere in deep darkness that seemed to envelop me whole. It felt cold on my mind, stretching it thoughtlessly in the empty vastness, and I saw distant flickering lights of stars. Before I could form a coherent thought, I was back in myself, panting and shaking, staring at the front page of the Punctum Visus . I looked around with shaky breaths; the attic looked the same, and Shawala’s steps on the stairs reached my ears, with her voice calling my name. A shiver passed down my spine, causing goosebumps to bloom on my skin; was it the draft, the dread, or the excitement I couldn’t tell.

I knew I had to read this book, no matter what it took for me to do so.

I took it home, almost forgetting about the rest of the books upstairs. It had spent the next month laying in my room, as I dealt with the formalities and moving the rest of things that weren’t sold from the house either to my place or to charity. After the day we left the house for the last time, I collapsed in my bed, exhausted, but instead of closing, my eyes fell on the book unassumingly waiting on my nightstand.

A surge of excitement passed through me, waking me right up. I sat up and reached for the book. It was still warm; I couldn’t tell if it was good or bad, but warm it was. I think it made me subconsciously assign it more… being? Like, even before I knew anything, I somehow subconsciously accepted that it was more than just an object; that it was, in a sense, alive on its own. I brushed my fingers on the cover, feeling the texture of the leather and the etching of the letters. In the meantime during this month I had checked the meaning of the title – Point of Sight; a position from which a thing is or is supposed to be viewed. It makes so much sense now.

But then I didn’t know what dangers it held; or I didn’t want to think about them. I do remember feeling anxious, my hands trembling every time I opened the cover, but it was so mingled with exhilaration of the certainty I was discovering something important that I must have disregarded it. As I turned the pages, I wasn’t surprised to find the text in Latin; though I still felt a pang of frustration that it meant I couldn’t read it for now. I rifled through the pages, looking curiously at the letters that formed words yet unattainable to me. There was a hunger inside of me; a hunger to Know. As I turned the pages past various symbols, illustrations of the constellations, and of Earth, I determined it must be some sort of a metaphysical work. The point of view on the world around us.

Normally I just skim through works like this and leave them. While they are an interesting read sometimes, they’re not my favourite genre and, looking objectively, putting in the effort of learning a whole language just for the sake of reading a treatise on the meaning of cosmos by an unknown author seems strange at best. But somehow it seemed obvious to me that I had to read it. It called to me, sang into a part of my being that begged to be filled, promising knowledge that would finally leave me satisfied. I know now that it’s impossible. Once you’ve tasted the hunger for knowing, you will never find satisfaction; it’s like an addiction. You just crave more and more, and the knowledge never ends. After a certain point you know too much and when it all connects, when it starts to make sense… you slip. I didn’t know that, even though maybe I should have. I didn’t know what those things I was feeling meant then and I didn’t stop to question them; I gave into it as soon as it touched me. I was stupid.

What followed were a busy couple of months. Every waking moment that wasn’t spent keeping up the pretence of being interested in my major (back then I only thought it a brief hyperfixation, of course, and wouldn’t have called it a pretence at all), I was learning Latin online or staring into the incomprehensible words on the pages. This period of my life is a blur; I remember my friends checking up on me if I was alright, since I wasn’t particularly social anymore. Shawala got progressively more worried, but it fully escaped my mind to care. I know that staring thoughtlessly at the book took up more and more of my time; once, I remember, I returned from my classes at three PM and took the book out; when I came back to myself it was well past midnight. That’s when I started to feel truly uneasy about it. It was the second half of April; I looked back on what I’ve been doing these past months and this cold dread started creeping up to my throat. I realized I didn’t know why I wanted to read the book so much and I remembered the “vision” or the hallucination I had that first time in my dad��s attic. I had set it aside completely as unimportant, and I couldn’t wrap my head around why. I started shaking and theorizing in my head about the book being able to influence my mind somehow, to control it. Had my actions not been my own? How much of it was my own will and how much was the book? Was it even possible for it to influence me like that; could it be that it was supernatural in some way?

The house became cold, unnaturally so. It was dark and all the windows were closed, but a chill draft managed to find its way into the corridor I was in anyway. I sank to the floor and hugged my knees, trembling in panic. I was all alone in the flat, everyone I knew was surely already asleep in their homes, and I was small and weak in the face of something that maybe could have controlled my mind. I suddenly became aware of the leatherbound book in my hand, and I threw it along the corridor at the front door with a whimper, as far away from me as possible. The book thumped against the door, then the floor, and opened on a random page.

I’ve read enough horrors. I knew that the page would be significant, and that knowledge made me sob and hug my knees tighter. I didn’t know what was happening; I felt like I’d just woken up from a months-long dream… and perhaps I was right. The recent past felt alien.

I felt tears sting my eyes and that’s when the smell reached me. Again that mixture of old paper and peppermint cold, distantly sweet but freezing the blood in my veins. My breath came in ragged and shallow, and tears streamed down my face as I stared at the open book that was calling me in an inaudible whisper. The logical side of my mind was trying desperately to make sense of it, to assign the dissociative feeling to my father’s death and yeah, it was plausible, but somehow it just didn’t feel right. The whispers sounded again, swirling around my head, the golden sound almost touching the back of my neck, making me wince. It was enticing and promising, but this time, I felt terror instead of excitement. Disregarding how my mind was trying to rationalize the situation, I knew the book was cursed somehow. I knew that I was its victim. And I knew that I would not be strong enough to resist it.

I don’t know how much time I sat there, trembling, and sobbing into my knees, before I calmed down from the panic and decided I had to do something. I had to find out what this book was and how it found itself into my dad’s library. I couldn’t remember seeing anything in his diaries that would mention it at all, but then again, I didn’t read them all cover to cover. On wobbly legs I carefully made my way back to my room and searched the Internet until the sun started peeking out of the window; I found nothing about any book titled Punctum Visus . I tried all the libraries that I’d known of, that had their assortment online, all the research databases; nothing.

So, at the crack of dawn, with a fast-beating heart, I stood in the door of my room, staring out into the corridor, where the book still lay by the front door, unmoving. The golden strings of a wordless melody made it to my ears; it promised an explanation; that this time if I looked close enough, I would find what I was looking for.

What was I looking for?

Where else could I find the answers if not in the book itself?

I could feel its cold fingers slowly wrap around my mind, steering me to come closer. It called me with a hypnotising voice that awakened all the red signals in my brain, telling me to run and hide, but I didn’t. The voice meant danger, but I knew it also meant knowledge.

Dangerous knowledge. The pull dragged me through the corridor step by step; I hadn’t been fighting it as strongly as I could have had and I was about to start, since I was getting closer to the book, but suddenly I felt the chill of the influence let go, hovering close but out of reach. It was still compelling me to come, to Look, but I could move my own limbs. I had a choice to make.

Knowledge of danger. Did I believe my own warning thoughts that I would regret looking into the book? Did I take my own logical, rational side seriously? Was I ever good at resisting my own impulses?

I’ve never been addicted to anything, but then again, I never really had the opportunity, as it were; my friends were more of a no-alcohol types and I really ever smoked cigarettes once. I’ve never seen drugs in real life. So who’s to say if I’m not an addictive personality? And this, this was addictive. The thrill of mystery, the exhilarating process of learning, the anticipation of the answers.

Was it ever really my choice?

No supernatural force guided my steps that night; no cold fingers made me kneel next to the book and carefully cradle it in my arms, looking at the page with a shaky breath and tears in my eyes, as if I was coming back home like the prodigal son. But I’m sure it was by some paranormal means that this time I could understand the text on the pages.

I honestly don’t remember what it said. As I read the unfamiliar words, the meaning presented itself in my mind, not entirely unlike that first “vision” I had in the attic; as soon as I started reading I knew that I had made the choice and there was no turning back. That cold draft enveloped me, sat on my skin, and started to bite; I felt that smell again, stronger than ever before, something intangible but unmistakably inhuman . It was then that I realized that’s what had felt wrong to me about the smell since the beginning. It was inferior and alien. My hands started shaking as my eyes, glued to the text, moved now on their own down the page, drinking the words in. I was terrified out of my mind, but the pleasant tingling along my nerves was back, the anticipation of the promised understanding.

My mind was drowned with the tide of knowledge. This was just a prologue; a true discovery would require preparation, but I was almost ready. The voice said I was chosen, that I was a perfect candidate to bring It what It needs and that I would be rewarded. I cried tears of amazement and horror at the sheer scope of the voice – it seemed to encompass the entire world. I couldn’t comprehend it, but I didn’t know then that it was a blessing. I wanted to know, I craved to know what It was and how I could be of use to something so powerful, so huge. Divine. That was a word that crossed my mind, as much as I don’t like that. I don’t like many things, but I can’t change any of them.

The voice said I’m on the right path. I would Know and Understand. First, I needed to do something. As It told me what that was, doubt started to creep up to my mind. What was I doing? What was happening? How could this be real?

I came to on the floor by my front door, the cursed book in hand, with a tear-stained face and a bloody nose.

I knew what I had to do to get ready and, as I calmed down and went over everything in my head, I was surprised by how trivial it was. Honestly, by this point I was kind of afraid It would tell me to hurt someone, so I was glad this was just about reading a bunch of words in a specific location at a specific time. I was aware of the fact that this was most probably a ritual, and I was quite apprehensive. I kept arguing with myself in my head, over and over whether I should follow through, but deep down I knew that I would, no matter what I told myself. This part, I think, scared me the most; how compelling the promise of knowledge was, how reverently I’d found myself thinking of the book and its owner (which I assumed was the voice), how fanatical some of my thoughts sounded. I’ve never been religious, never really felt idealistic either. I was always focused on facts, on the here and now. Can knowledge be an ideal? Can you be a fanatic of Seeing and Knowing?

How much had I changed since I’d found Punctum Visus in that old attic.

I found a good, quiet spot, on the north-west side of the New Forest National Park near Southampton. I told no one about this, deeming it unimportant. I would come back after my big discovery, I would explain everything. I laugh at myself now; at my naivety.

The night of April 28 th was clear, and the starry sky looked back at me as I parked my car on the road in the forest and locked it. I tied a piece of a long red string to the wheel, not to lose my way in the forest, and started to walk forward. I held the book close to my chest, as if it could protect me from the dark, eerie outlines of the trees, swaying gently on the wind and whatever the darkness around me held. I didn’t light the torch; the moon was nearly full, bathing everything in its gentle light, and besides, for some reason it seemed that the crude yellow light would somehow break the sanctity of what I was about to do. I could see the ground in front of me and managed to lose sight of my car and everything else besides trees pretty fast.

I stopped when I found a small clearing. The moon was high in the sky, shining down on me like a big eye; I didn’t know why this comparison seemed the most fitting, but it did. I took a deep breath, feeling a chill plant little dots all over my skin, making my hairs stand on end. The wind died down and the trees froze, as if in anticipation. I felt something watching me closely; I was not alone here anymore.

The realization made my breath catch in my throat and the last streaks of sanity broke through my thick skull. Run! Drop the book and run! I didn’t. My hands trembled, my muscles tensed, and I stood there, frozen with fear as something stared at me, seemingly for eternity. Something bigger than me, bigger than anything I have ever seen was watching me, waiting. My eyes dropped to the book in my arms. The black leather was warm, as always, but this time I felt a pulsating sensation from it. A heartbeat.

I screamed. The book landed discarded on the ground, and I stumbled backwards and tripped, landing in the grass as well. It was cold and wet, and it glistened with something in the faint moonlight. At first I took it for water, but upon closer inspection I saw it was the grass itself that glittered – a shy rainbow, glowing iridescently in an impossible way. I froze, stunned, for I have never seen such colours before. It seemed utterly alien, something unfitting for the human eye to see; simultaneously beautiful and horrifying.

As I looked around, I noticed that everything alive in the forest – the trees, the grass, the bushes, the plants – had taken on that iridescent mixture of faint light that prickled my eyes and sent a shiver of terror down my spine. It was beautiful, utterly gorgeous in a way that nothing a human eye can perceive could be. It was horrifying in how different, alien, and other it was. My senses could tell this is not of the Earth; not of this reality, not of this world; everything in me that still had common sense tried to recoil from the inferiority of this magnificence and the danger it brought, but I had abandoned common sense a while back. Maybe even when I touched the book for the first time. I stared then, breathless and trembling, at this scenery as if from a fairy tale and decided to lock away my rational thoughts. I wanted to See, to Know; I wanted to experience and if this was the death of me then hell, it was a pretty good way to go. To behold such a sight, I thought, was a reward in and of itself.

Of course, I had no idea what any of it meant. I slowly rose to my knees and patted the ground down until I felt the book. It still pulsated with this heartbeat and the letters etched in the leather glowed with golden light. My hands were sweaty, and I didn’t know whether I was shivering from fear or the cold. I opened the book on the first page.

What I saw was not what I had expected. I remembered that the first page, after the titular one, was the beginning of the introduction, that much I had understood, but now it was a big picture in black and white; a night sky, with an almost full moon and strewn with stars. It was a shot from the ground and treetops could be seen at the edges of the picture. As the book swayed in my hands, the stars glittered, and the perspective shifted ever so slightly, as if it was in 3D. Stricken by a surge of dread and cold certainty, I looked up. My suspicion was right – the picture in the book depicted the exact image that was now above me. I gasped quietly and looked down at the book—

And this is where things started to really go horribly, horribly wrong.

The book was gone. What’s more, the ground was gone too and suddenly everything was not where it should have been. I blinked but it did nothing to ease the dizziness; and when I composed myself enough to register what I was seeing I froze, the most intense horror I have ever experienced crushing my body from all sides and inside out.

I realized that I was Seeing. I was finally Seeing, and I Understood it all.

I don’t know how to convey in words what I saw. I don’t believe it’s possible; humans were never made to see and understand such things. I should have never touched the book, I should have never asked for knowledge. All my life I believed that knowledge was the point; it was a tool, and it was power. I don’t know what I think anymore. I think some knowledge should always be hidden because we were not made to know everything. We can’t , it’s physically impossible for us to comprehend.

For one moment in my life. For one moment I became something else, and I saw the world in the way It sees the world. For one moment I shared a mind with an eldritch being, a thing that is Fear itself, and I saw the Earth through Its Eye. I can’t… I can’t tell you just how horrible it is. How… How meaningless; we’re all intertwined things, guided by strings of web that lead us through life, and we’re all connected in this maze of fear . We’re not individuals; we’re not special. We don’t have souls and none of our experiences matter. We’re just fear. These… These entities are a part of all of us. They’re our fear and they live inside of us, inside of every living creature that can feel fear. Can you comprehend that? How can you be sure you are yourself when there’s a cosmic entity, a power as old as life itself, living you ? And no one has any idea. Nobody knows and if I tell someone they’ll think I’m crazy. Sometimes I think I’m crazy. But deep down I know what I saw. I know it was real. And I’m terrified. I’m terrified because I know that this Being of eyes that I became a part of watches everything I do. I feel Its presence here very strongly, and I guess it makes sense. It will never leave me. It’s a part of me, just like the rest of them; just like they’re all a part of every one of you, yet you have no idea. But I know. And I know I’m all alone with that knowledge, the knowledge that I can’t comprehend, but I know I could in that one moment. It’s a very lonely place to be and I’m scared.

I’m scared as I have never been before; this fear doesn’t leave me anymore. Every second of every day I’m aware I’m watched by something as great as cosmos. I’m aware I shared my mind with that being and it makes my skin crawl.

I don’t know what to do now, but I don’t expect any advice from you. I’m leaving the book with you, as proof. Its heart doesn’t beat anymore, and I’ve seen what I was supposed to.

Don’t read it.

Notes: If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving me a comment!! For people interested in a little bit of background: Lyria is a D&D character I have created that still awaits her chance to play in a campaign. She's an arcane scholar that has a dark little secret of actually being a warlock of a being she doesn't know a lot about. She's in love with knowledge and she seeks to learn about her powers as well as the world around her. I'm currently DMing a Ravenloft campaign and I just couldn't miss the fact how much potential for a corruption arc she has. Then I listened to TMA and I was like, she would definitely become the Avatar of the Beholding.

[weirdletter]

Diseases of the Head: Essays on the Horrors of Speculative Philosophy, edited by Matt Rosen, Punctum Books, 2020. Cover design by Vincent W.J. van Gerven Oei, info and freeebook version: punctumbooks.com.

Diseases of the Head is an anthology of essays from contemporary philosophers, artists, and writers working at the crossroads of speculative philosophy and speculative horror. At once a compendium of multivocal endeavors, a breviary of supposedly illicit ponderings, and a travelogue of philosophical exploration, this collection centers itself on the place at which philosophy and horror meet. Employing rigorous analysis, incisive experimentation, and novel invention, this anthology asks about the use that speculation can make of horror and horror of speculation, about whether philosophy is fictional or fiction philosophical, and about the relationship between horror, the exigencies of our world and time, and the future developments that may await us in philosophy itself. From philosophers working on horrific themes, to horror writers influenced by heresies in the wake of post-Kantianism, to artists engaged in projects that address monstrosity and alienation, Diseases of the Head aims at nothing less than a speculative coup d’état. Refusing both total negation and absolute affirmation, refusing to deny everything or account for everything, refusing the posture of critique and the posture of all-encompassing unification, this collection of essays aims at exposition and construction, analysis and creation – it desires to fight for some thing, but not everything, and not nothing. And it desires, most of all, to speak from the position of its own insufficiency, its own partiality, its own under-determinacy, which is always indicative of the practice of thinking, of speculation. Considering themes of anonymity, otherness and alterity, the gothic, extinction and the world without us, the end times, the apocalypse, the ancient and the world before us, and the uncanny or unheimlich, among other motifs, this anthology seeks to articulate the cutting edge which can be found at the intersection of speculative philosophy and speculative horror.

Contents: Introduction: On Diseases of the Head – Matt Rosen Outgrown Purpose, Outlived Use: On Parasitic Teleology – Ben Woodard Death of Horror – Amanda Beech Those Who Are Not Counted: For a Theory of Generic Affliction – Matt Rosen Horror of the Real: H.P. Lovecraft’s Old Ones and Contemporary Speculative Philosophy – David Peak Triangulorum – Sara Rich Race and Its Far-Reaching Contemporary Ontological and Epistemological Implications – Marina Gržinić and Jovita Pristovšek Absolute Xenogenesis: Speculations on an Unnatural History of Life – Eckardt Lindner Survival Strategies for Weird Times – Helen Marshall Matrix pavoris: Material Dislocation in House of Leaves – Luka Bekavac Encountering Weird Objects: Lovecraft, LARP, and Speculative Philosophy – Chloé Germaine Buckley Sublime Horror in the Tales of E.T.A. Hoffmann” – Hamad Al-Rayes When the Monstrous Object Becomes a Tremendous Non-Event: Rudolf Otto’s Monster-Gods, H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu, and Graham Harman’s Theory of Everything – Eric Wilson Reproducing It: Speculative Horror and the Limits of the Inhuman – John Cunningham Horror vacui (“That nothing is what there is”) – Julia Hölzl Contributors

[professorspork]

Punctum Project, Installment 31

(what the heck is the Punctum Project? read me!)

May 12, 2013 - Broadway Willemijn Verkaik, Katie Rose Clarke, Kyle Dean Massey Randy Danson (Morrible)

Okay so first A PREFACE ABOUT THIS BOOT

it's very widely circulated, and that is because it is Excellent. it was one of the handful I had back in December when all this began; I'd gotten it years ago but never watched it. and after the movie I was like LET'S WATCH SOME BOOTLEGS and then that swiftly turned into I'M REALIZING CERTAIN FRIENDS OF MINE HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS SHOW AND IF I WANT THEM TO SEE IT BEFORE SEEING THE MOVIE I HAVE TO DETERMINE WHICH OF MY BOOTS IS BEST FOR NEWCOMERS

I then watched several, and then I watched THIS one, and I was like "this is the one, i found her, the search is over"

and then when Helen wanted a boot to show her sibling, I sent her this one, and then she got infected with the brainworms, too

it is good for SO MANY reasons, but I do think a significant part of its considerable staying power is just how solidly it ends. Katie lands the FUCK out of this plane, and it makes this show so goddamn STICKY because it haunts you and gets under your skin right before curtain.

LET'S SEE HOW SHE DOES IT:

First, she makes herself smile at Chistery, even though she's already halfway to dissociation town and her heart is breaking, even if all she can manage is a glorified pained grimace, because he's a) done her a massive solid and b) is the only other person in the world she can mourn Elphie with and c) deserves her kindness:

Then she does this profoundly goofy jazz hands gesticulation at "make the pronouncement myself" because her Glinda is still an awkward deer space alien who can't move like a normal person and we can't be allowed to forget it:

Then she and Randy go WAY over the top in a moment that's ALREADY usually over the top, sharing a manic laugh over "I hope you prove me wrong, I doubt you will" that is, for Morrible, a last clawing attempt to get on Glinda's good side and, for Glinda, effectively a nervous breakdown:

Then there's the sheer luck and timing of the master and the way the boot itself is shot, how the zoom back out is synchronized perfectly with the color change and the silhouettes to show the way Glinda is just absolutely dwarfed by the magnitude of what's ahead of her, making it hit all over again for the audience that WE'VE SEEN THIS BEFORE IT'S A MEMORY PLAY:

Then there's the way she not only CROUCHES DOWN to be on Chistery's level but GENTLY CRADLES HIS FACE because again, it's THEM AGAINST THE WORLD NOW:

(but also seriously, she spoils us, it's because of this that my wife and I have watched like 50 boots where we end up screaming TOUCH HIS FACE. TOUCH HIS FACE YOU MONSTER at Glinda in this moment and get DEEPLY DISAPPOINTED when she doesn't)

and then

and THEN

we come to the end. the last shot of the show:

which:

some boots follow Elphie and Fiyero at the end, staying with them as they leave Oz in slow motion. Most try to split the difference and keep the angle wide so we can see the bubble AND fiyeraba's exit at the same time.

but the best ones, generally -- my favorite ones, generally -- they do this. they stay on Glinda. they give her no quarter and chronicle every aching moment as she clutches the Grimmerie desperately for comfort, and she girds herself, and she braces, and she breathes.

because now it's up to her; for both of them.

my girlllllllll.

god, it's so fucking good.

[cometomecosette]

Standout Moments from "Les Mis" Recordings: 1985-'87

In honor of the 40th anniversary year of the musical of Les Misérables (not counting the original French version), and following the example of @professorspork's Great Wicked Watch, I've decided to do a Great Les Mis Watch and Listen. Over the course of this year, I want to explore as many complete video and audio recordings of Les Mis as I can find, both official and bootleg, in chronological order from 1985 to the present day.

I've also decided to draw inspiration from @professorspork's Wicked Punctum Project. In her Wicked watch-through, she picks out small moments (or "punctums") from each bootleg that stand out for her the most. I've decided to do the same thing for Les Mis. As with the Wicked project, this one will cover some moments I love, some I dislike, and some that just stand out as unique, But since I can't resist going on and on, I'm writing longer rambles about each moment, and instead of just one at a time, I've decided to share a few at a time.

Let's start with the recordings from the musical's first three years, 1985, '86, and '87.

Original London Cast Recording

Colm Wilkinson (Jean Valjean), Roger Allam (Javert), Patti LuPone (Fantine), Alun Armstrong (Thénardier), Sue Jane Tanner (Mme. Thénardier), Frances Ruffelle (Éponine), Michael Ball (Marius), David Burt (Enjolras), Rebecca Caine (Cosette)

The beginning of “Look Down.”

That’s right. My moment doesn’t involve Colm Wilkinson, Patti LuPone, Michael Ball, or any of the other leads. It’s the opening verse of “Look Down,” because the way it’s performed sums up the tone of the OLC recording. The tempo is slower than it would later become on Broadway, and the beggars sing their pleas in an intimate, understated way. It doesn’t sound like a grand chorus in a mega-musical: it sounds like real homeless people on the street quietly begging for help. The prevalence of rough-sounding, unpolished voices among them enhances this quality. At this point, the show wasn’t Les Miz, The World's Most Popular Musical, it was just Les Misérables, A Musical, as its original poster read. Not a polished, mass-produced theatrical hit, but an intimate, gritty, earnest new adaptation of Victor Hugo’s novel. At least that’s the impression the OLC recording creates for me, and the slower, more understated rendition of “Look Down” typifies it.

Honorable Mention: The fact that in "On My Own," Frances Ruffelle sings "This world will go on turning" instead of "His world..." At first, I thought she was just singing "His world..." with her Cockney accent, dropping the H, but having seen video clips of her singing the song, I can confirm now that she sings "This." It means that the final verse isn't about Marius anymore: it's about Éponine feeling excluded by and insignificant to the whole world, with her unrequited love as just one aspect of it all.

1985 London audio bootleg (original cast at the Barbican Centre)

Colm Wilkinson (Jean Valjean), Roger Allam (Javert), Patti LuPone (Fantine), Alun Armstrong (Thénardier), Sue Jane Tanner (Mme. Thénardier), Frances Ruffelle (Éponine), Michael Ball (Marius), David Burt (Enjolras), Rebecca Caine (Cosette)

Colm Wilkinson’s soft and gentle “You will learn. Truth is given by God to us all in our time” in “In My Life.”

This bootleg of the show’s original, longer form is fascinating in many ways. But for me, the standout moment is a familiar one; Valjean’s response to Cosette’s plea to learn about the past in “In My Life,” which can be delivered gently, sternly, or even harshly depending on the actor. I prefer it sung gently, but I didn’t know what to expect from Colm Wilkinson in this early performance, especially because he sounds a bit stern in that scene on the Original Broadway Cast Recording. But that was probably because Judy Kuhn was a more forceful Cosette than Rebecca Caine. Here, he sounds impeccably soft, gentle, and fatherly on those final lines, which works perfectly with Rebecca’s always gentle, dignified, and sweet-toned Cosette. It’s also a striking contrast to the brooding intensity of his scenes with Javert. This early performance of Colm’s particularly contrasts the fire of Jean Valjean the convict with the calmness and kindness of his gentleman personas.

Honorable Mention: The different version of Gavroche’s death, which is more like the version on the French Concept Album. In it, Gavroche sings a reprise of "Look Down," in which he first dismisses the National Guardsmen as idiots and again insists that he "runs this town," but then gets shot and realizes he's dying ("They've got Gavroche at last"), and then sings just two feeble lines of "Little People" with his last breaths.

1986 London audio bootleg

Colm Wilkinson (Jean Valjean), Roger Allam (Javert), Jackie Marks (Fantine), Alun Armstrong (Thénardier), Zoe Bright (u/s Mme. Thénardier), Frances Ruffelle (Éponine), Simon Bowman (u/s Marius), David Burt (Enjolras), Rebecca Caine (Cosette)

Jackie Marks’ “HOLY GOD, IS THERE NO MERCY?!!” in “Fantine’s Arrest.”

This performance still features most of the original London cast, but with Jackie Marks and Simon Bowman in place of Patti LuPone and Michael Ball. The standout performance is Jackie Marks’ Fantine, and the standout moment in her performance is this line from “Fantine’s Arrest.” It stands out because her Fantine has been an especially soft-spoken and delicate one; less passionate and powerful than either Patti LuPone before her or Randy Graff after her, and more girlish, frightened, and pitifully sad. Yet gradually, she reveals her inner fire and passion, first in the later verses of “I Dreamed a Dream,” but most of all in her arrest scene. When she sings her desperate, sobbing-toned pleas to Javert, and then wails “HOLY GOD, IS THERE NO MERCY?!!” with a raw anguish not heard from many other actresses, we know that this Fantine has truly been torn inside-out by all she’s been through.

Original Broadway Cast Recording

Colm Wilkinson (Jean Valjean), Terrence Mann (Javert), Randy Graff (Fantine), Leo Burmester (Thénardier), Jennifer Butt (Mme. Thénardier), Frances Ruffelle (Éponine), David Bryant (Marius), Michael Maguire (Enjolras), Judy Kuhn (Cosette)

Randy Graff’s ad-libs in “At the End of the Day”: “Give me that letter back! Give that back to me! AAAAGGGHHH!”

The OBC recording has a unique rugged intensity to it, which I think is what makes it a “love it or hate it” recording among the fandom. Personally, I like it. This quality is typified by Randy Graff’s controversial Fantine. I’ll admit that her voice isn’t always “pretty,” but her warm and rich yet slightly rough timbre suits the character of a suffering woman, as well as the passion she brings to the role. Nothing sums up her Fantine better than her ad-libs during her fight with the Factory Girl, as she fiercely shouts for her letter back, then breaks into raw, strangled screams, presumably as the Factory Girl pulls her hair, twists her arm, or some such thing. It’s different from the first impression of gentle grace and refinement that other Fantines create, but it’s an honest and visceral portrayal of a poor mother fighting for her daughter’s life while facing unbearable brutality from others.

Original Tel Aviv Cast Recording

Dudu Fisher (Jean Valjean), Elior Yeini (Javert), Riki Gal (Fantine), Albert Cohen (Thénardier), Tiki Dayan (Mme. Thénardier), Shlomit Aharon (Éponine), Avi Toledano (Marius), Yovel Dor (Enjolras), Tal Amir (Cosette)

Dudu Fisher’s angry orders to Cosette at the end of “Attack on Rue Plumet” and Tal Amir’s distraught “Papa!”

This is a live recording of a non-replica production, with many unusual tempos, musical choices, and acting choices. One such acting choice is this one, which unfortunately stands out because I don’t like it. When Dudu Fisher’s Valjean resolves to leave Paris, he sounds more impatient with Cosette’s reluctance than any other actor I’ve heard, and shouts “HURRY, COSETTE! It’s time to close another door and live ANOTHER DAY!!” (Or rather, the Hebrew equivalent.) He also sounds a bit harsh with her in “In My Life,” but this is worse. Now, I understand that he’s terrified at this point, but still… I don’t like Valjean to yell at Cosette. I don’t like him to be harsh with Cosette. Rationally, I accept it as a valid acting choice, but it’s not pleasant, or how Hugo wrote their relationship. Still, I like the way Tal Amir’s Cosette responds, with a strangled half-shriek of “Papa!” as he pushes her into the house – a level of raw anguish at being torn from Marius that other Cosettes rarely give us.

Honorable Mention: Fisher’s Valjean sobbing uncontrollably over the students’ deaths after “The Final Battle,” with a violent coughing fit between his sobs to foreshadow his own death. That's a moment I do like: I can imagine it was powerful onstage.

1987 Szeged proshot video

Vikidál Gyula (Jean Valjean), Makrai Pál (Javert), Kútvölgyi Erzsébet (Fantine), Szombathy Gyula (Thénardier), Hámori Ildikó (Mme. Thénardier), Nagy Anikó (Éponine), Sasvári Sándor (Marius), Kaszás Attila (Enjolras), Csarnóy Zsuzsa (Cosette)

Vikidál Gyula’s tearful “Bring Him Home.”

No, believe it or not, I didn’t choose the end of "Who Am I?" That’s the most unintentionally funny moment, but the real standout moment comes later. This is another non-replica production, with some unusual musical choices. As Jean Valjean, Vikidál Gyula is a rugged-voiced rock singer with a baritone range, so he can’t sing the high notes with the soaring sweetness of other Valjeans. (This is why at the end of “Who Am I?” he shrieks “ONE!!!!!” in the most hilariously melodramatic way instead of singing the note.) How does he cope with “Bring Him Home,” then? He acts his way through the song. He cuts notes short, sing-talks some lines, wails other lines, and lets his voice crack and go off pitch. Through at least half the song he sounds as if he’s crying. It’s not a pretty rendition, but it vividly conveys Valjean’s desperation to save Marius for Cosette’s sake, and his anguish in knowing he’ll lose Cosette and in facing his own mortality.

Honorable Mentions (Serious):

**Near the end of "Attack on Rue Plumet," as Marius introduces Cosette to Éponine, Cosette reaches out her hand to Éponine, but she pulls away. But then Marius takes both their hands and joins them together: he wants his two girls to be friends, having no idea of the history between them.

**Grantaire singing “If I die, I die with you” as a solo line, then clasping hands with Enjolras. Unfortunately, for some reason Grantaire is cast as a gray-haired, bearded old man, but at least they gave him this.

Honorable Mention (Funny): One guess. It never gets old.

1987 London video bootleg

Martin Smith (u/s Jean Valjean), Clive Carter (Javert), Kathleen Rowe McAllen (Fantine), David Delve (Thénardier), Myra Sand (Mme. Thénardier), Jayne Draper (Éponine), Maurice Clark (u/s Marius), Martin George (Enjolras), Jacinta Mulcahy (Cosette)

Jayne Draper's Éponine rudely shoving Gavroche in "Look Down."

Usually, during Gavroche's lines about Éponine in "Look Down," one of two things happens. Either Montparnasse comes on to Éponine but she fights him off, establishing her toughness, or else she exchanges friendly, teasing gestures with Gavroche, establishing her lively, playful nature. Neither happens here. Instead, it looks like Gavroche tries to pal around with her, but she just shoves him aside before wandering off. Now, the video quality is abysmal, so we can’t see the actors’ facial expressions. Maybe that shove was more playful than it looks, or maybe it was protective – Éponine trying to keep her little brother away from the unsavory “work” their parents force on her. But I wonder if they were trying to make Éponine still seem like a rude brat at first, like she was as a child, only to reveal her sympathetic side gradually through her love for Marius. I just wish I could see her face clearly to know for sure!

Honorable Mentions:

*In the Work Song, Martin Smith’s Valjean shielding the “I know she’ll wait…” convict from being beaten by the warden. Even before he meets the Bishop, we see his heroic instincts.

*In "Confrontation," Clive Carter's Javert taunting Valjean with a "Yes, bring it on!" hand gesture when Valjean first threatens him with the chair, only to skitter backward in shock and fear when Valjean reminds him of his strength by breaking it.

[creatingdocumentaryperformance]

Syllabus: Creating Documentary Performance

Course Title: Performance Composition: Creating Documentary Performance PERF-UT 201 (4 points)

Course Description The term documentary theatre is often used interchangeably with verbatim theatre. Theatre scholar Carol Martin would advise us to beware and keep tabs on Documentary Theatre, a slippery little devil which claims to present the truth. Yet, in truth, the world of Documentary Theatre (and Art) seems to be expanding. New works of live Documentary Art challenge the documentary form by loosening the grip of journalistic objectivity and responsibility. Documentary performance now takes on a variety of forms which we will examine in this course.

This course will begin with ways of observing a range of performances (live, filmed, quotidian, and archival). We will then integrate this heightened awareness into an hybridized archival call-and-response. We will have daily in-class creation workshops designed to respond to research and performance materials. Through this process students will learn to integrate research questions and aesthetic performance elements. Participants will engage in documentary writing techniques, performance techniques such as vocal duplication and movement vocabularies, creation of composition scores, and docu-fantasia (a methodology pioneered by Guy Maddin in his film “My Winnipeg” combining personal history, civic tragedy, and mystical hypothesizing), among others. The result of these searches will be cumulative. At the end of this course, students will have created several short-form documentaries.

Participants in this course will come from various performance backgrounds: some (like me) will be based in theatre practice, others will be more comfortable writing, composing music or movement, directing, acting, or filmmaking. This course is designed for much of the creation of our projects to take place in the classroom itself with students sharing their skills with one another as they learn new skills together. 

Course Objectives

to become familiar with the field of documentary performance

to develop and deepen investigative research skills

to learn to create performances from disparate elements (learn processes of meaning-making)

to generate “speculative” material from “factual” remains

to move archival materials from the page to the stage (or lens/screen as the case may be) 

Requirements

You need a notebook or loose paper. We will do writing exercises that will be edited and presented during class. It will not be possible to participate fully in movement/writing work on a laptop.

You will need scissors and a glue stick.

Please see the class schedule below. Please come to class having completed the listed requirements (read, watched, and prepared performance elements) and come prepared to share your findings and contribute to discussions, workshops, and rehearsals.

There will be four assignments due during the course: a) construction paper photo journalism Using lessons on image composition from Molly Bang’s “Picture This,” recreate one image from one of the documentaries or images we viewed during weeks 1-4 (or an image of your choice). Write a brief but vivid description of the scene you hope to capture. Upload both the original and your version of the image as well as the description. This image is due on February 21, 2021. b) 360 degree video (maximum 5-minutes long) Create a three-minute long 360 degree video of your own living space (use Ackerman’s video for inspiration). Research the history of your living space (What is the history of that land? When was the building constructed? Who owned it? Who lived there?) and then write a two-minute monologue from the point of view of someone you image to be a previous tenant. This is the basis of the performance. You may choose to incorporate other performance elements created in the course thus far (movement vocabularies, musical elements, etc.). The video should be submitted via email on week 5, a 500 word summary of building history including sources is due on week 6, and the final performance is due on March 21, 2021. c) Documentary Étude (maximum 10-minutes long) Seek out your own musical archive (this might be something personal, something you amassed yourself or something you discover out in the world) and using strategies developed in class (ex. haikus, nightstand writings, movement vocabularies) and other techniques learned from docs we’ve seen (vocal re-enactments, karaoke, performance re-creation, etc.) create a live documentary étude to the song or recording of your choice. This étude should include research into the song and, based on that research, some theories we have discussed in class that help analyze your findings. The way you structure this presentation is entirely up to you. Due April 26-May 3, 2021 (exact date to be decided upon by in consultation between students and instructor). d) performance review The final assignment for this class is a 1000-1200 word review of another classmate’s documentary performance. The point of this assignment is to constructively critique a colleague’s work while integrating the texts and theories we have discussed during the course. This is to be submitted to the instructor via email on or before the final day of class (May 10, 2020).

Attendance in this class is critical. Much work takes place in-class and this cannot necessarily be made-up through subsequent assignments. More than three unexcused absences will result in a failing grade. Absences must be excused in advance, please make your request via email. Likewise three unexcused latenesses will count as one absence. Assignments are due on the date specified unless a change is discussed in advance with the instructor. 

Class Schedule

Week One: February 1, 2021

Introduction to Documentary Theatre

A short documentary performance: Devotional Space

Course Introduction, Expectations, and Agreements

Week Two: February 8, 2021 Truth, Objectivity, and the Truth of Fiction

Read, Carol Martin, “Bodies of Evidence” and Walter Benjamin “The Task of the Translator” 

Watch, Lynn Sachs, “Your Day Is My Night” https://vimeo.com/58024122  and “Your Day Is My Night” (live performance) https://vimeo.com/191185422

Week Three: Thursday February 18, 2021 Objects That Talk

Read, Roland Barthes “Studium” pg. 23-28, “Punctum” pg. 38-47 in Camera Lucida, Ariella Azoulay “The Spectator Is Called to Take Part,” and Molly Bang “Picture This: How Pictures Work”

Watch, Yuval Hamieri “I Think This is the Closest to How The Footage Looked” https://www.nytimes.com/video/opinion/100000004383825/i-think-this-is-the-closest-to-how-the-footage-looked.html and Vaginal Davis “This Is Not A Dream” https://youtu.be/A03i57f53E4

Week Four: February 22, 2021 Interpellation and Composition

Read, Joshua Whitehead “On Ekphrasis and Emphasis” and Louis Althusser “Ideology and State Apparatuses” pg. 162-177

Watch, Kirsten Johnson “Cameraperson” https://stream.nyu.edu/media/Cameraperson+-+DML+Film+DC04692/1_6j3rpjc7

DUE February 21, 2021: Construction Paper Photo Journalism Assignment

Week Five: March 1, 2021 Memory and Repetition

Read, Diana Taylor “The Archive and The Repertoire” pg. 16-30 and Richard Schechner “Restoration of Behavior” pg. 35-55

Watch, Caveh Zahedi “The Show About The Show"

PREPARE AND UPLOAD before class: 360 video

Week Six: March 8, 2021 Docufantasia: Speculation, Narrative, and History

Guest Speaker: Farihah Zaiman

No readings this week.

Watch, Farihah Zaiman “Nobody Loves Me”, Guy Maddin “My Winnipeg” https://stream.nyu.edu/media/t/1_3fuaywbk/157165221, and Chantal Ackerman “La Chambre” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8AGakyb3eBU

BRING TO CLASS: Write, a few notes on building/land history

Week Seven: March 15, 2021 No Class

Feedback sessions on Building History text/monologue available during class and office hours

Week Eight: March 22, 2021 Presentation Day

Guest Speaker: Alison S.M. Kobayashi

Watch, Alison S.M. Kobayashi Showcase, please be sure to watch “From Alex to Alex” and “Music Is Magic” 

DUE March 21st: 360 videos & monologues assignment (uploaded to shared site)

Week Nine: March 29, 2021 Psychodrama and the Politics of Space

Suggested Read: Ngugi wa Thiong’o, “Enactments of Power: The Politics of Performance Space”

Watch: William Greaves, “In The Company of Men” https://stream.nyu.edu/media/In%20the%20Company%20of%20Men%20(William%20Greaves%2C%201969)./1_13usuirk

Week Ten: April 5, 2021 Creating a Performance Plan

Read: Barbara Browning “The Gift” (read Part One available in NYU e-books) and Doris Humphrey “Check List” pg. 159-166

Watch (we will watch segments of this in class): Okwui Okpokwasili “Bronx Gothic” available on NYU Kanopy

Week Eleven: April 12, 2021 Listening as Research

Read, Martin Daughtry “Acoustic Palimpsests”; (suggested but not assigned Alexandra T. Vazquez “Listening in Detail”)

Listen, Reply All (podcast) “The Case of the Missing Hit” https://gimletmedia.com/shows/reply-all/o2h8bx

Week Twelve: April 19, 2021 No Class

Week 13: April 26, 2021 Documentary Étude

Read, Jacob Wren “The DJ Who Knew Too Much” and “Every Song I’ve Ever Written”

Re-watch, Alison S.M. Kobayashi “Music Is Magic”

Students workshop elements of their final performance

Create final performance schedule

Week 14: May 3, 2021 Final Presentations

Week 15: May 10, 2021 To Be Announced

Additional Performance Links

Choosing performances to share with you was both a joy and an agony. There were many great works that didn’t make it onto the syllabus proper. I wanted to share some of those with you here in case you wanted see more work. You are more than welcome to come to office hours to discuss any works you may have seen (on this list or in your own searchings). Additional performance viewing is not a requirement of this class and is meant solely for your enjoyment.

The Wooster Group, “Rumstick Road”: https://vimeo.com/88116889 

Nature Theatre of Oklahoma, “The Life and Times of Kristin Worrall, Episode 8”: https://vimeo.com/145414310 

Caveh Zahedi, “The Show About The Show": https://www.bricartsmedia.org/tv-shows-videos/show-about-show

Walis Johnson, “Jessy’s House of Styles”: https://vimeo.com/193445572

Nadia Ross “What Happened To The Seeker?”, Part one: https://vimeo.com/147670008 , Part two: https://vimeo.com/148387633 

Wellness 

Your health and safety are a priority at NYU. If you experience any health or mental health issues during this course, we encourage you to utilize the support services of the 24/7 NYU Wellness Exchange 212-443-9999. Also, all students who may require an academic accommodation due to a qualified disability, physical or mental, please register with the Moses Center 212-998-4980. Please let your instructor know if you need help connecting to these resources.

[sana-magcd]

Project 3

In his book ‘Ways of Seeing’, John Berger discusses the painting ‘The ambassadors by Holbein’.

“The painted objects on the shelves between them were intended to supply-to the few who could read the allusions - a certain amount of informations about their position information according to our own perspective.” From here on he uses different objects from the painting to map out the social positions, prevalent practices, symbolism and relationship. I was intrigued by the treatment of background objects as a medium to unfold more information that adds value to the narrative. This brought in the question-what happens when the setting becomes the content of the story?

Over the summers, Dolly Kikon screen her film, “Season of life: Foraging and Fermenting Bamboo-shoot during Ceasefire. It is short and layered film that documents the food practices in Nagaland, India. The film talked about the cultural productions of bamboo-shoot while allowing audience to take a peek into livelihood, gender, domestic relations within a household, migration and the relationship between the forest and the settlement. Her method of selecting a simple element of our lives and using it to unravel its relationships to show a broader and in-depth picture.

Even though these two reference have very different interest and intentions, I couldn’t help notice the effective using of setting/background/object in structuring narratives. What happens when the focus is shifted from the plot? Or the story is treated as an archive? Is this a direction to explore a multi-linear way of experiencing the narrative?

In my triangulation project 2, I blend fragments from these methodologies. My intention is to produce iterations pulling data from the folklore to unfold ethnographic relationships through commentary from people who are familiar with the story and belong to the same culture. I started with highlighting parts of the story which hold details of culture, place and practices. Later compared the data from the translated copy with the original script to identify the difference. These data was arranged into categories to building a questionnaire to initiate commentary.

The commentary involved both denotative and annotative analysis of different elements of the story. The Indian mynah can be perceived as a type of fauna found in the area /a common metaphor used in Assamese literature / cultural superstition. These interpretations contribute to understanding the different patterns of communication in different societies, how meaning emerges and how these evolve with time and generation. There is a similar thought when it comes to analysing images.

“French theorist Roland Barthes uses the term studium to describe this truth function of the photograph. The order of the studium also refers to the photograph’s ability to invoke a distanced appreciation of what the image holds. Yet photographs are also objects with subjective, emotional value and meaning. They can channel feelings and affect in ways that often seem magical, or at least highly personal and interiorized. Barthes coined the term punctum, a Greek word for trauma, to characterize the affective element of those photographs that pierce one’s heart with feeling. Photography is thus paradoxical: the same photograph can be an emotional object (conveying its sharp and immediate punctum), yet it can also serve as measured documentary evidence of facts (through the more distanced studium by which the image invites us to regard what it shows). Photographic meaning derives precisely from this paradoxical combination of magical and objec- tive qualities.” (Practices of looking  an introduction to visual culture by Lisa Cartwright Marita Sturken)

When I compare my project 1 and 2, I notice that I am using analysis to explore different ways of storytelling. In project one, my focus was on the plot while iterating visual structure, theme and style whereas the project two is to highlight very specific parts of the plot and using them as prompts to generating information through dialogue.

References:

1.Berger, J., 1972. Ways Of Seeing. London: BBC and Penguin.

2.Wright.edu. 2020. The Historical Nature Of Myth. [online] Available at: <http://www.wright.edu/~elliot.gaines/analysisofmyth.htm> [Accessed 23 November 2020].

3.Sturken, M. and Cartwright, L., 2001. Practices Of Looking. Oxford University Press.

4.Seasons of Life. 2020. [film] Directed by D. Kikon. Nagaland: Zubaan Books.

Download:

://drive.google.com/file/d/1cJ147ZZ6cR5pqbsqHxoI5nIQi5XzvTa4/view?usp=sharing

[art-now-italy]

Impressions, deborah savoie

Born in Windsor, Canada in 1956 Deborah sensed the potential of the camera to communicate beyond words, even in fun, in 1972 with a 35mm Yashica, when she began developing a visual language based on movement, color, form and gesture, using the imaging power to record the emotional energy of people and places. Ten years later by 1982, based in Vancouver, Canada, she was an architectural photographer with full knowledge of the earliest computer techniques. In 1998 she collaborated with the New York Times and Vogue Australia, then subsequently worked in fashion, portraiture, sponsored cultural events as well as an important fine art photography projects. Her first show was in 1995 in the Candace Perich Gallery in Connecticut and New York where she showed alongside American great Robert Mapplethorpe. Xian, her first abstract show, was held in 1998 in the Aldo Coppola Gallery in Milan and soon afterward in the Manz Modern Art Gallery, Prague. Notable attention for portraits shown in the IN BRERA gallery in Milan in 2000, and her nude photography show three months later “The Secret Garden" in the same gallery. Deborah extended her artistic mind to abstract painting where colors and fantasy work in synergy in what she addresses as decorative interior art. “Deborah’s eye, revealing the language of color, sees the realia, harmonies which overshoot the boundaries of sensory perception to shatter the opaline crystals of common sense. Thus our soul rediscovers its strongest ability: the intermediation between perceptions derived from the sensitive world and spiritual world. With her images, Deborah depicts color relationships found in nature that effortlessly provide the viewer with an instinctive sensory conversation and comprehension of nature itself. Colors are not just a seduction in life and poetry, but foremost a fascinating philosophical problem related to their meaning, inter-play and existence or non existence, from Aristotelians, Kant, Husserl to Wittgenstein. What color is a leaf: the green seen at noon or the black we see at night? When we say “red” or “green” are we indicating something real and concrete or using the word merely metaphorically, a translation by our brain to define wavelengths when light hits our cerebral cortex or as translated by the photo camera? Is it true that blue retains the idea of infinity, stimulating purity of nostalgia and supernatural? What do we get from colors reflecting where light permits? Thinkers and wise men, as Goethe, Rousseau, Herder, Steiner and many more, say primitive Man had the ability to see directly the colored and animistic essence of things, where civilized Man lost it completely. Could it be that Deborah reinstates in her own way the power of seeing the true essence of things through a digital camera or her paintings? For her understanding is seeing, the iris is her tool, the camera is her range, the stop motion the punctum the instant she captures her realia. This is Zone 11’s philosophy: images reflect the change of time, the dynamics towards the future and the culture of pixels and visual prosthesis. Does the human specie’s evolution and progress recover and expand the lost sensorial perceptions? Does the homo faber regain his ludens (artistic) and sapiens (physical and metaphysical power) sides through technology? Deborah Savoie tries to “see” her own way. It is her “creative writing”. Cosimo Mero Art Curator

https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Impressions/916015/3295804/view

[choric-invention-project]

Choric Invention

Welcome to my Choric Invention project for English 401 at Western Washington University.  This blog is dedicated to my explorations in Choric Invention and seeing what things prick my punctum along the way.