Response to Discussion of Mental Health Stigma

Recently, Ruby Wax did a documentary discussing her experience with mental health and the stigma attached.

It's available here: http://www.channel4.com/programmes/ruby-waxs-mad-confessions/4od

Firstly, I must say how much I appreciated this documentary and its intentions - truthful and accessible. However, I felt it did not cover the issue of mental illness stigma for the younger generation/s. I loved the painful honesty of Ruby Wax discussing how she had kept her illness from her children and managed to work through it with her husband - but I'm not there in my life yet. What does the mental illness stigma mean to me?

Usefully (or not, depending on how you look at it) I had a very early and thorough education in mental health problems as I have known someone severely bi-polar for a long time. Looking back I can note some stages of my understanding.

Ages 4 - 7 

Not realising my life wasn't normal.

8 - 11 

Knowing it wasn't normal but not fully understanding the illness. 

12 - 15 

More understanding and feeling massively resentful.

16 - 18 

Fully understanding and annoyed by everyone else's perceived immaturity on the subject.

19 - Present

More appreciative of people lack of understanding and realising I suffer with depression too*.

A key behaviour I've noticed among people my age or younger is the flippant use of the word 'depressed' as well as its meaning thought to be solely that of being sad. Does this create a false sense of knowledge in people that use it? Do people who have a bad break up and declare themselves to be depressed think that they actually are depressed, or do they know they're being melodramatic? This is a question I can't answer as I have never not been aware of the meaning of the word depression. 

Aside from simply feeling that my peers did not know about the subject I was also very aware of the stigma. I felt that if I came out, so to speak, it would not just be a case of, "Oh, so what's that then?", but more like a sort of unspoken black mark. Particularly as a teenage girl I was very aware of how it may affect my already meagre popularity with the opposite sex. "Don't date the mentalist!" I would hear the hypothetical boys chant**. Luckily, I am now getting to a stage where the men I socialise with have, or will soon, come across the film 'Betty Blue' and my mental issues suddenly become the hottest thing about me.

I digress.

As I said, I used to be angry and peoples ignorance but I have since asked the question - what would I know about mental illness if it weren't in my everyday life?The answer is: probably nothing. I never heard one mention of mental health at school so of course there's a stigma. People aren't encouraged to talk about it and don't have any appropriate knowledge to do so. As with most stigmas - education is the key. 

So, what does this stigma mean for me? I am less fearful of employment opportunities than the adults featured in the programme; I think thats probably down to positive progress as far as equality in the workplace is concerned. I remain fearful for maintaining and forging new relationships (platonic or otherwise) as I think lack of understanding can be particularly devastating in that aspect of life. 

About a year ago I was unbelievably relieved to read that Sarah Silverman, a very successful comedian, had said she didn't want to have biological children for fear of passing on her depression. This is why talking is important; despite being in contact with mental health problems for a long time I had never heard anyone express this particular concern. Because no one had ever talked about this with me, I had built up a massive amount of stress regarding having kids while suffering with depression. That stress probably wouldn't have been there had I known others had similar misgivings and I am now on the way to being much more rational and calm on the subject. 

Maybe I hope this post will do to someone what that little article about Sarah Silverman did to me. 

*I was actually diagnosed somewhere in the 16 - 18 stage but I don't think I'd quite grasped what that mean't at the time. 

**Then they would hypothetically debate my boobs and social standing in their hypothetical palace of self deprecation. Fuck you hypothetical boys (hypothetically). 

Girls on Film: Suspiria & Shivers

Girls on Film 

Films in Focus: Shivers & Suspiria

(For a brief summaries of these films click here)

I must admit, I did have a problem with seeing some of the things that happened to the women in Shivers. Owing to the subject matter (the release of people's sexual inhibitions via venereal parasites) there was always going to be a sexually aggressive element to the film and although we know this is due to the assailants being out of control, it is still difficult to watch. However, in the closing act of the film the previously abused women were infected with the parasite and I began to feel differently about what I'd seen. When the men had their sexual inhibitions released they became neanderthal and brainless; when the women were infected it was more like a liberation. There are, to my mind, three notable women in the film who all start as secondary characters. Taking the character of Nurse Forsythe as an example; she begins as a perfectly average girlfriend to the one of the male leads. She shows affection when he wants, makes him dinner and does what he tells her - the whole humble female shebang. When infected, however, she becomes powerful and sexual as well as seemingly becoming the leader of the infected masses. The other two main females have a similar character arc.

Suspiria is interesting in terms of female interaction simply because it is almost devoid of males. There are three men in the film: one is blind, one is mute and the other is gay - Argento says this was because he wanted none of the men to interfere with the female interaction (probably not the most P.C. of statements but he said it not me!). His first major film, Bird with the Crystal Plumage, was unusual in that it featured a powerful and punishing female and because of this, a trend developed in subsequent Italian horror and mystery films. I suppose this popularity coupled with his own love of exploring female interaction meant that by the time he got to Suspiria, Argento could go ahead and have a film of females. And I must say, Suspiria is like looking at a kaleidoscope of the female psyche - personified, exaggerated, then bounced off one another. Most interestingly for me was the portrayal of old women. The Principal of the dance school is played by a sixty seven year old Joan Bennet - and she looks fabulous. Similarly, all the other older women are portrayed as strong or powerful - not always positively powerful admittedly but still, there isn't a fuddy-duddy pensioner in sight. 

What does this mean? Well, men are obsessed with women for one. Cronenberg seems to discuss men's fear of women's sexuality (which is also discussed in a film which is said to have taken some inspiration from Shivers: Alien). He also seems to be fairly self deprecating towards male sexuality - I would be interested to know how men feel about this. Argento does not seem so much afraid of female sexuality as enthralled by it. His work has followed a pattern of strong women and in an interview he said the large majority of his audience is women; this would suggest that while awful things do happen to women, the female members of the audience appreciate that its because he is trying to explore every facet of female reaction and not just glorify violence against women. I know this is how I felt. 

My feelings towards Cronenberg, on the other hand, are a little different. There were times when I felt he was excessive and made me feel uncomfortable, however the final act made me consider that this may have been intentional. He seems to want to show that subversive and perverse sexual behaviour is bred of repressed minds and in order to really hammer that through to the audience he exposes us to the very behaviour he would seem to be condemning. While I felt unsure at first, I came to realise there was intention behind it; so whereas I may not have appreciated it at the time - I understand it, and his intentions.

Even if someone has solid artistic intentions, is there a line that can be crossed? 

I would say, no.

Would you?

Suspiria & Shivers: Body Horror as a Device

"For me all art is subversive in someway … it's inevitable, then, that if you consider yourself a serious artist that you are going to bother people."

- David Cronenberg

I have long been fascinated with the use of gore and body horror in film. It's a device, like any other, but does its excessive nature actually stop people from appreciating the meaning behind it and what is that meaning? As I am most interested in the thoughts of people who either know little about or dislike the subject, so as to ensure I don't alienate people with nerdery, I am going to consider two films I have only just seen: Shivers and Suspiria. 

*SPOILERS!!*

Brief Summaries

Suspiria (1977, Dir. Dario Argento)

My Score: 9/10

A young American ballet dancer, Suzy, comes to a European ballet academy to train - her arrival coincides with some strange events culminating in the mysterious death of another student. Bizarre occurrences and noises continue and as her suspicion heightens there are more sudden deaths. Suzy works out that, while the staff say they leave the school during they night, their footsteps tell a different story. 

Shivers (1975, Dir. David Cronenberg)

My Score: 7/10

Set on a luxury island near Montreal, the onsite doctors have been experimenting with the use of parasites to take over from failing organs. It is discovered that one of the doctors has been secretly breeding a parasite to free people of their inhibitions. His test subject is unable to handle the sudden release and becomes wild and promiscuous - infecting several others. With the parasite taking hold, a cast of characters attempt to combat the hysteria while not loosing themselves to it as well. 

Body Horror

Firstly, it was exciting to see how different two horror films can get within only two years of each other. Shivers is like a time capsule of the 70s; Cronenberg reportedly drew on the realism in underground New York cinema when making this film. The characters are all conventional people living ordinary lives who have a parasitic catalyst thrown into their midst. Suspiria, on the other hand, is completely outlandish in almost all respects. The characters are exaggerated, the sets are mad, the lighting is invasive - but it works wonderfully and was a very exciting film for these reasons. 

It is difficult to say which is a better setting for body horror: realism encourages empathy whereas melodrama takes the viewer out of the story and possibly into a more speculative frame of mind. I think the differences between Suspiria and Shivers hark back to the discussion of Brechtian and Stanaslavski storytelling in an earlier film review. With regard to gore, I think a Brechtian style piece (i.e. Suspiria because the audience is constantly reminded it's a film) is able to display its intentions more clearly; however, I don't think one can value either style over the the other as it just comes down to personal taste. 

Right: let's get grisly. An ideal moment for comparison sprung out at me - not only was the violent act the same, it was even filmed in a similar way: a throat slitting in extreme close up. I have to say I was more repulsed by the one in Shivers, probably due to the realistic lighting and mundane setting. Although less disgusted by the shot in Suspiria, I felt a more heightened sense of fear because the lighting was so extreme and the music was so relentless and bizarre. It seemed to me that the melodrama in Suspiria made it an emotional experience whereas the realism in Shivers felt more like watching an autopsy. 

The differing use of blood was also of interest. While featuring some pretty horrific images of parasites and writhing innards, Cronenberg used blood relatively sparingly - I think this comes from trying to base the film in reality so masses of blood would have been out of place. Because of this, when blood was present it was all the more unsettling and it's presence increased towards the climax. Contrastingly, I think Suspiria may have hired the Hammer Horror effects team as the whole thing was awash with the most vibrant blood you've ever seen (funnily enough, the director Argento cited early John Ford and Disney animations as the inspiration for the lurid colours in Suspiria). I found that I became relatively desensitised to the blood as a result of this and it became more of an addition to the colour palette. Suspiria is red. Everything is red. RED. So the blood becomes one with that; for this reason I thought the film felt a lot more like an expressive painting than a narrative. Whereas I believe Cronenberg is trying to express an ideology, it felt like Argento's intention was purely to take us to an vivid emotional place - something he certainly achieves. Possibly this explains the differing use of blood: Cronenberg saves it for moments of significance to highlight his intentions, Argento uses is to keep the viewer in a heightened  state of emotion and fear. 

Two very different films, with very different intentions and yet these are expressed predominantly through the same device: body horror. I appreciate many people are immediately sceptical of any argument professing the intelligence behind any gore films but don't just listen to me: Shivers was funded by the Canadian Film Development Corporation, a government run organisation, and was also passed uncut by the BBFC (British Board of Film Censors) on its 1975 release. Argento has gone on the become a horror film legend and has influenced filmmakers even outside of the horror genre. 

Now, I will hold my hands up and admit that the barrage of mainstream, gory tripe being churned out at the moment is abominable; but those aren't the films I'm talking about. Any device used without a heart or intention falls flat. Personally, I feel just as cheated by a rom-com which is all goo and no heart as I do by a horror which is (albeit graphic and literal) goo and no heart. I appreciate that just as I will rarely be buzzing to watch a romance film, equally there are people who are never going to enjoy watching a gory film; but my intention is not to convert - only to hope people will understand the genre. The transient gore films of today only exist to capitalise on the masterpieces that have gone before it. And masterpieces they are.

Fancy getting intellectually gory?

- The Fly (1986, Dir. David Cronenberg)

- Inferno (1980, Dir. Dario Argento)

Fancy getting rip-roaringly gory?

- Braindead (1993, Dir. Peter Jackson)

- Evil Dead (1981, Dir. Sam Raimi) 

Rothkoca-cola

A friend asked for a painting based on a silly poem I wrote and I thought it might be interesting to record the process.

I wrote the poem because we were at a play rehearsal and someone asked us if we could get them a can of coke seeing we had a break. Naturally, we couldn't be bothered so I said I'd write a poem about a can of coke to give to them instead; as this would not involve moving.

Ode to a Can of Coke - Apologies for the poor opening rhyme, me and my friend both picked a word/phrase we wanted in the poem prior to writing it; why I chose "vending" I do not know! I thought her choice of "ring pull" was inspired.

Thirst. I feel your clutch impending.
Could you, machine, some sweet release be vending?
I await you, from your prison tumbling.
Soon shall I be at your ring pull,
Fumbling. 

Betrayal!
You knew, I was a naive and eager fool.
Alas!
Here stand I shamed; and in a foaming, fizzing pool. 

Too soon I yearned for your refreshment.
Why did I not let you stand?

A spiteful lesson learned - oh victor,
No more you'll see me falter.
Next time I'll choose a truer friend,
Pure and loyal,
Water. 

I thought I'd have a look at an artist for some inspiration and settled on Rothko - in particular some of pieces he did around 1948.

Other reference images:

Evolution of a Painting 1: Miller's Crossing

After watching Miller's Crossing I was struck by how well composed the shots were and was not surprised to find out that the cinematographer came to working in film though stills photography. 

Therefore, I thought I'd try painting one of my favourite shots which would be challenging for me because I don't paint realistically very often. 

I thought this would also be a good time to experiment with showing the evolution of a piece through gifs.

Let me know what you think!

Gif: Final:

Brazil & Pippin: Optimism vs Pesimism

Summary

I had and impromptu film night with some friends earlier this week. They hadn't seen Brazil or finished watching a recording of the stage show Pippin. So one evening we settled down to watch these two, apparently, completely unrelated pieces. Little did we know their themes were surprisingly parallel and we couldn't have picked a more complementary yet eclectic couple of DVDs if we'd tried. 

Brazil is a fantasy comedy/drama made by Terry Giliam. If you don't know, Gilliam was a member of the Monty Python team and after having watched Brazil you will realise who was responsible for the wackier moments in Python. We also watched Pippin - a musical written by Stephen Swartz, though Pippin is pretty far removed from what you'd expect from the man now famous for writing Wicked. Indeed, if my friend hadn't pointed out they were written by the same person I doubt I would have ever made the connection - well, without the help of Wikipedia at least.  

What I mean is, Pippin was very Brechtian i.e. often breaking the fourth wall, referring to the fact the people on stage were actors, abstract sets and costume etc. This was not only unlike the style of Wicked, but also unlike what one would expect from a Broadway musical - possibly this is why it wasn't a Broadway musical for very long. A shame, I feel, as it was an exciting and innovative piece. Though I must admit I have no problem with Brechtian storytelling whereas some people find it alienating (which is actually a Brechtian technique, but not everyones cup of tea). 

Brazil, on the other hand, does not break the fourth wall however prepare to suspend your disbelief: a lot. Conceptually, I love it. An industrial future blended with a look of the 1940s. I think this helps make the audience feel more at ease in this bizarre world as although it is set in a strange future, we can still see knitted jumpers and painted billboards that make us feel at home. And as for the cast; just think of every actor who's amazing and British then add Robert DeNiro and you won't be far wrong. 

Both well worth watching and I liked them very much.

The Icarus Factor*

SPOILERS!!!

We all felt both pieces were very ambiguous as to whether they were optimistic or pessimistic; as both portray arguments for both. It would seem the question they pose is: 

Is it better to burn brighter for a short time than to burn dimly for a long time?

In Brazil the protagonist, Sam Lowry, has dreams about a mysterious woman who he imagines himself slaying embodiments of 'the system' to be with. He discovers she is in fact a real woman, and gives up everything to be with her leaving destruction in his wake. He ultimately only gets to be with her for one night before everything collapses around them. 

Pippin, I would say, is more ambiguous. Whereas Brazil has other tangents, Pippin focuses entirely on the question of extraordinary vs. ordinary and the pros and cons of each. The protagonist, Pippin, sets out to find meaning in his life. He is torn between conformity and what he supposes to be freedom - which is embodied by the (awesomely fabulous!) Leading Player who encourages Pippin in bouts of self expression and rebellion. While Pippin's life is fast and exciting when pursuing brilliance he reports to still feel empty. This begs him to ask the question: can I feel freedom without being tied down to something? A good, if not scary, question. 

The conclusion I drew from Brazil is that Gilliam favours the route of freedom. Of letting go and pursuing the dream. However, he still gives the viewer ample chance to consider both sides as he does portray the repercussions of pursuing the unbridled lifestyle pretty horribly. Sam got his dream woman; but only for one night then he was left with nothing. Pippin abandoned his dream, now compromised he has found some solace but we are left feeling he is still unfulfilled.

I suppose they are asking us: is it worth it? And I think the answer to that can only come from the viewer. 

There was one optimist among us who felt that Pippin, in particular, showed that being 'normal' didn't mean failure and we can all find happiness regardless of whether we are conforming or chasing our dream. Us pessimists thought that they both showed that in the end, most of us have to give up our dreams to avoid self destruction - and that is sad. 

Devotion is admirable but history teaches us that it is not sustainable. Even is this is the life we would wish for, are any of us actually brave enough to choose it? But does our not choosing it lead to un-fulfilment, or is there more to life than being extraordinary?

What do you think?

Update! 

Just watched Phantom of the Opera which is about the same subject! I think my brain is subliminally seeking out this theme after writing this post. 

Christine, the leading lady has rival love interests. Raoul represents conformity and stability whereas the Phantom represents artistic freedom and passion. As I adore the stage show for the understandable struggle Christine goes through, choosing between these two equal yet contrasting men/life choices, I am therefore not sure about the 2004 film. The Phantom is turned into a physically attractive and much less twisted character which, I think, diminishes from the originally more personality and ideals based struggle. Plus the Christine in that film is so bland I don't think strength and inner turmoil comes through at all. 

Stick to the stage show. The debate is better.

*If you know where I got "The Icarus Factor" from then you are awesome! And you win this fun and appropriate fact: Ben Vereen plays the lead in Pippin but you call also see him playing Geordi La Forge's dad in ST: The Next Generation.

A pair of jeans die. A bag is born.

Rainy day and I needed to throw out some old clothes. Got to chucking a pair of jeans and decided I would solve my lack of bags problem too.

Double Indemnity: Cinemas and Film Noir

My Cinema Experience 

So, a few weeks ago I was excited to learn that the Abbeygate Picturehouse in Bury has a film noir season going. As I had only realised this the morning of the showing I called to make sure there would be tickets. I thought there surely would be but I was not expecting to be told not one ticket had sold. Considering how many people were at a screening of Terminator Salvation I was unfortunate enough to attend, also in Bury,  I was somewhat saddened for the Picturehouse and for great films.

I arrive at the ticket desk and was astounded by what else was on offer: selections of beer, cider, soft drinks, sweets, popcorn, ice cream and cake (yes, CAKE) that made me want to apologies for selling out to Cineworld so often. I moseyed on in to the screening - me and the four other people that showed - with a huge bag of popcorn and a Leffe to sit on one of the chairs, but then I realised they also had sofas so I sprawled on one of those instead.


I can't speak for any of the other Picturehouse theatres but all in all I was not only impressed, but disappointed so few people are utilising it - including myself! All I can say is that - before you rush to Cineworld for the latest thing, maybe have a look at whats on at an Arts/Picturehouse cinema near you. You'll probably find the film is better and that nine times out of ten you'll be surrounded by film lovers who won't talk or answer their phone - hurray. 

My only criticism is that on the way out, my fellow film watchers were talking about how Barbara Stanwyck's fringe didn't look too good. My fringe looks a bit like hers. Unimpressed.



Double Indemnity

For starters, I totally confused myself for the first half an hour of the film by having mixed up the meaning of double jeopardy and double indemnity. Double jeopardy is where you cannot try someone again for a murder they've been convicted of. This is not what this film is about; Stella wins the dopey points for that one.

Double indemnity, on the other hand, is where the benificiary of a life insurance policy gets paid double if the policy holder dies in an accident. Fred McMurray plays Walter, a single insurance salesman with all the confidence and wise cracks you could wish for. Barbara Stanwyck is similarly silver tongued as the femme fatale, Phyllis - a young nurse who married the widower of one of her patients and is now restless. Given that, I'm sure you can all work out the basic premise of the plot. The two leads are solid throughout and have wonderful exchanges of dialogue that, as an actor, would strike fear into me for its improbability - but they make it seem totally normal. I now intend to work the line 'do I laugh now, or wait 'til it gets funny?' into my normal life; that and 'I wonder if you wonder.' Brilliant.

What caught me by surprise were the supporting actors. Edward Robinson as Keyes, Walter's crotchety but secretly kind hearted boss, absolutely steals the show for me; so funny and great pace. His match lighting method genuinely inspired me to find out if I could buy some non-saftey matches when I don't even smoke. Also, an endearing performance from Jean Heather as Lola, Phyllis' step-daughter. This could have easily been, I think, a somewhat throwaway character be she makes it charming and memorable. 

SPOILERS!!!

As for the plot, if you haven't worked out by now - Phyllis and Walter plan to get an insurance policy taken out on her husband with her as the beneficiary. Walter resists until he realises how lucrative the plan could be if they can stage a perfect accident resulting in the double indemnity payout. However, they are in jeopardy (not double jeopardy mind!) because even if they do attempt the plot, Keyes is such a brilliant investigator and friend of Walter's they may not be able to get around him (Keyes - he unlocks things, geddit??). 

END OF SPOILERS!!!

What happens??? I'm not going to tell you!! Why: because its was really fantastic I want you all to see it and revel in the tension and the wise cracks. Really understated tension too, lets the audience do the work. Similar to Notorious in that way; the director trusts that he has furnished the audience with all the necessary information for them to grasp the significance of relatively small occurences. My favourite in Notorious being when a man goes to hold the leading lady's hand and she manages to evade it. Sounds like nothing but if you know what's behind it; I nearly leapt at the screen in panic.

Lastly, ironically, its got a cracking opening titles. Ominous music with equally ominous shadows - puts you into the mood of the piece in a heart beat, or at least it did on the big screen; give it two heart beats on the small screen. 

All in all I'm going to be uncharacteristically enthusiastic and say 9/10. It just made it to a nine because of all the lines I want to quote and Edward Robinson.


What does everyone else think about cinemas and film noir?

Films - A New Strand

'Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.'

- Beckett

Having some time to myself has led me to review my blog.

I read the first post.

I wanted to set myself a challenge. Something that would stretch me and broaden my mind and understanding, and I think I've done that. Not only do I want to continue my original challenge but I'd like to start a new one -

Films for 2012

Premise: This year, I will watch as many of the films I've been meaning to see for years and post my responses to them. These responses may take the form of reviews, debates or art - who knows. I hope this project will force me to watch outside my ordinary taste margins and hopefully inspire some debate. And, if you're really pro-active you can watch the films I'm watching too!

Here's the list so far -

Rosencratnz and Guilderstern are Dead

Tootsie

Zelig

Duck Soup

The Fly (Cronenberg)

Taxi Driver

12 Angry Men

Raging Bull

A Face in the Crowd

Hausu

Throne of Blood

The Godfather 2

And the ones I've already ticked off the list and will be posting about are -

The Third Man

Double Indemnity

Miller's Crossing

Invasion of the Bodysnatchers (1956)

I was inspired to do this after watching an ongoing web series in which someone watches the films they always meant to, and discusses them with a friend (the two people happen to be improv comedians so the whole experience is pretty fun, link!). They reminded me that films shouldn't just be watched and then forgotten; they should be enjoyed with people and talked about.

So, that's what I've been doing and will be doing for the rest of this year - alongside periodical art instalments. 

Have any films you think should be on my list? Let me know.

Make your own list and tell me about it. 

Films! 

Yay!

Acceptance - A Question.

On reviewing my completion of my Art course, I've felt confused as to the reception of my work.
On the one hand I received praise for my exhibition, from both friends and the general public - yet I feel somewhat panned by the professional artists. I have no bones with anyones opinions - I'll make that clear - but it has made me consider the importance of acceptance. Should we worry about the endorsement of our contemporaries if what we're doing brings enjoyment to the intended audience?

Ignoring ones contemporaries is: A - lonelier and B - riskier. While it can fuel uniqueness and purity of vision (remember the saying: a horse designed by committee would be a camel?), it can lead to producing indulgent and 'rudderless' work. Take Vincent Van Gogh, only sold one painting in his lifetime. Think how awful it would have been if he'd have given in to the trend and cast the sunflowers aside. And yet, there is always the fear of becoming the other - an American sitcom writer*. Churning out the same generic material thinking that you're writing Seinfeld when you're actually writing the 23rd season of Will and Grace. But the ratings are too good for you to realise its bile.

The crux of the negativity seemed to come from a feeling that I didn't make it abundantly clear to the viewer exactly what I wanted them to think. Interestingly, something along these lines came up in a Coen Brothers related discussion I had recently. I am the sort of person that likes to find meaning in things - in this case, the use of circles and a hat in The Hudsucker Proxy and Miller's Crossing, respectively. My friend, who has seen more Coen Brothers than I, has come to the conclusion that the Coen Brothers include apparently loaded symbols that aren't actually loaded at all. They mean nothing. But then I suppose that means everything. These signs that lead to nowhere could be their reflection of their belief in the unpredictability of the universe. Things happen because of random chain of events. A man keeps dropping his hat in Miller's Crossing. Is a a symbolic representation of his true self being temporarily exposed, or is it because his hat doesn't have a handy bit of elastic on it? Who knows. But more importantly: who cares?

Does what the artist intended the viewer to think mean anything, so long as their work provokes them to think something? To the Coen brothers, the circles in The Hudsucker Proxy could have had the most in-depth, symbolic subtext imaginable; or they could have meant nothing. Does either intention malign the, possibly contrary, meaning I took from them - I would say, no.

I have had the belief for some time that what I think about something is secondary to the fact that it made me think. I believe this is why I was not so desperate to funnel viewers into one outcome of experience. I even included a feedback board as part of the exhibition because I felt strongly that what a viewer thinks of something is as important as the thing itself. Will this make my work weak and transient: maybe, but not definitely. I think perhaps my real intention was to make people think and find their own meaning. It's not an original intention. Its a dangerously broad intention. But perhaps its a more exciting one than knowing the outcome of people seeing your work before you've even started.

I'm not sure what I think. What do you think?

*The 'American-ness' is referring to the sitcom. I have nothing against American writers.

Art Exhibition!!

And finally, the reason for my sporadic posting can be revealed, I've been working towards an Art Exhibition!

The summary I wrote to accompany the pieces:

[Ir]Rational Fear
We are all wired for fear. We all still have the fight or flight instinct within us, and it needs an outlet: scary stories. Horror has evolved from centuries of fairytales and folklore, it's nothing new. But, how do we continue to scare ourselves and how does horror manage to maintain its relevance? 
While my photo collage explores peoples feelings on why horror is relevant (both on a personal and cultural level), my film piece explores the images and sounds from which horror is constructed.
One of the things I found most interesting is that I edited my film without any intention of scaring or creating a sense of tension yet most people have reported these feelings while watching it. It would seem that simply the expectation of fear is enough for us to project it onto what we're seeing or hearing. Love it or hate it - our brains switch on to fear in a heartbeat. Personally, I think its a healthy flexing of our primitive muscles. 
What were your expectations and what did you feel?

Here is the link to the Film Collage - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsyx_2kg_7c

The Photo Collage:

If you want to read the writing here is a link to a larger image - http://img43.imageshack.us/img43/866/img2603fw.jpg

The full show: 

No one thinks about the cheese.

Request for a quick something to do with cheese from Dani.

Thought about cheese rolling competitions . .

Shakespeare Illustrations . .

Fancied developing my illustration portfolio so tried a more complicated piece than the previous two. I gave myself the brief of designing a souvenir or promotional image for the Globe Theatre in London.

What do you think?

The Rat King!

So, I was procrastinating and watching my favourite ballet, The Nutcracker (the 1990 Peter Wright version with the Birmingham Royal Ballet to get specific) and remembered how much I enjoyed/was scared of the Rat King scenes when I was little. I wonder if it said something about the person I would become that I always thought the mysterious magician was way more attractive than the 'knight in shining armour' style male lead.

Anyways, enough about me. Have a Rat King photo collage.

Try and procrastinate near pencils and paper, you'll end up drawing.

Another early concept; I'm trying to develop an illustration style.

For any Dungeons and Dragons fans among you, the purple blob was based on a Gibbering Mouther.

A discussion about The Devils and my attempt at a critical essay . .

Long time no blog. Ironically, my art blog has been so sparse because I've been busy with an art course. You'd think that would increase blog activity!

I'm currently preparing for a final exhibition which I will be posting about closer to the time (although it feels far to close for comfort as it is). One of our final assignments on the course was to write and personal essay about an art subject that interests us: a handily focused and narrow brief eh?

Anyways, here is my essay in which I hope I didn't get too over excited and completely meander around the question.

Irrespective of my writing skills (which you are more than welcome to constructively criticise by the way), I do feel the subject of The Devils very interesting one regardless of your knowledge of horror or film.




P.S. I do not own any of the pictures. They are the property of Warner Bros.

The Devils: Artistic Expression in Film and its Censorship

By Stella Frangleton

The winner of Best Foreign Film at the Venice Film Festival while, at the same time, being banned in Italy: The Devils (1971) has been the subject of an ongoing battle between film critics and film censors since its release - gaining both acclaim and castigation. Having only been seen in its full version at film festivals, the fullest version available is more than evidently an artistic vision of a tragic historical event. Even as a fairly hardened and liberal film fan, I must admit I found The Devils a difficult watch; however, it was difficult with a purpose and intelligence. I did not feel the empty exploitation of a thrown together exploitation movie; I was being made to feel uncomfortable because the director, Ken Russell, was trying to express a vision – an alarming vision, yes, but not one without thought and relevance. Had Russell expressed this in a painting or gallery, would he have received a similar butchering of his piece? I believe The Devils was treated such because the images are not simply to disgust momentarily (a construct unfortunate many shocking films follow). They have been constructed masterfully both for visual and emotional impact. In essence, it has been treated badly because it is made so well; it is affecting. I intend to examine art in film being treated differently from other art forms: how and why.

The Devils is, I believe, Russell's strongest morality play. It focuses on the important differentiation that needs to be made between true faith and the use of faith as a manipulative tool (the possessions at Loudon, the real historical event on which the film is based, being a particularly sordid example of the latter). One of the reasons critics claimed the film was not art is due to the explicit nature of some scenes, some going as far to call the film perverted or sadistic. I find this a somewhat redundant criteria, especially when considering revered painters; how many disturbing and sensual paintings come to mind when considering the work of artists such as Goya and Courbet? The scene that remains cut even from the current release is the scene that typifies Russell's pivotal concept; it is known, starkly, as 'The Rape of Christ'. The scene sees the nuns - driven into a frenzy by political schemers in an attempt to incriminate the powerful Priest Grandier for possessing the nuns - tear down a life size icon of Christ and ravish the fragments in a nightmarish fervour. These intense images, however, are intercut with a scene of the Priest Grandier, a troubled man who we have seen grow in purity as he connects with his faith more throughout the film, reach a sort of catharsis as he calmly takes communion alone in the countryside. As the corrupt reach their climax of depravity, Grandier reaches the climax of his faith. Interestingly, the head of the Catholic Legion of Decency in America at the time of the films release (Father Gene Philips) did not find fault with the sequence. He described it as 'portraying blasphemy, but it is not blasphemous' and felt that the a scene from The Exorcist (1973), wherein a possessed girl masturbates with a crucifix, was more offensive as it did not appear to discuss the vast separation between acts such as these and true Catholicism, which Russell does.

Other works have discussed the destructive marriage of church and state, notably Arthur Miller's 1952 play: The Crucible. Hysteria is a key aspect in both pieces – showing how the state can encourage it under the guise of religious piety, and how this leads to people acting on previously repressed feelings and grudges. Abigail is the main example of this in The Crucible; she uses the ensuing witch hunt to accuse the wife of the man she had had an affair with. Similarly, Jeanne Des Anges in The Devils goes so far with her denouncing of Grandier because she was attracted to him, something for which she received penance, and became resentful of him. Unlike The Devils, The Crucible did not get such a frosty reception from critics and authorities and I think this may not just be down to the more sexual content in The Devils. Miller was openly historically inaccurate; although he based it on a true event, as with The Devils, he made clear it was a work of fiction and had fitted the setting to his purpose. As The Devils was intended to be as accurate as it could be from the existing recordings it is much more gut-wrenching; there are vastly gorier and sexually overt films out there but they aren't as real or emotionally charged as Russell gets his to be. The work of Francis Bacon, Three Studies for Figures at the Base of the Crucifixion in particular, was brought to mind when considering images of charged emotion coupled with religious imagery such as in The Devils. Bacon described the image of the crucifixion as 'a magnificent armature on which you can hang all types of feeling and sensation' and he used his interpretations of it to express his disgust with man's inhumanity to man something; which I feel Russell was trying to express too. Both abandoned realistic imagery and made it bold and almost vulgar, I think, so the viewer couldn't ignore it. The Crucible may discuss similar issues to The Devils but it is not as determined to make the viewer feel the artists' revulsion at the atrocities they are citing.

Both Russell and Bacon were criticised for the alarming nature of their works however: Bacon's paintings were allowed to exist whereas Russell's film was not. What is the distinction between a traditional artist and an artist who works in film, that makes one viable for unsanctioned editing and the other not? I feel that film censors and critics either fear that people won't go into a film viewing it as art. Or, the censors are the people not viewing it as art and therefore miss the point. This seems all too true of the treatment of The Devils; Ken Penry, one of the BBFC censors at its time of release, even said 'We all took against the film . . . although we realised it was a very fine piece of filmmaking'. The tragic irony of this statement defines what is wrong with the continued suppression of The Devils full cut. Russell intended it as art; it has been received widely as such and yet the fear that some unsuspecting person will pick it off DVD shelf and feel compelled to write a strongly worded letter still overpowers the right to artistic freedom. I appreciate that what people's preconceptions of what they will view in a cinema probably aren't films like The Devils but to not be allowed to watch in our own homes is like trying to buy a painting but being refused of the grounds that we might not appreciate it 'correctly'.

The aspects of humanity portrayed in The Devils may be disturbing but they do exist – something I am trying to explore in my own work. Russell uses images to highlight aspects of human behaviour that he finds worthy of discussion: something I am trying to achieve in both photo and film media. Whereas, Russell's message is more focussed to state and religion – I would like mine to be more open ended. I want to know how viewers interpret the images painstakingly woven by people such as Russell. His context for The Devils is pleasingly ambiguous; while being able to be viewed as a period drama, the visuals allow it to attain a timeless dreamlike quality which I found interesting and have tried to incorporate into my own film piece. A strong enough sense of context to retain a connectivity throughout the piece but far removed enough to provoke deeper thought than simply threading the images together to create a story. I also agree strongly with Russell's belief in the strength and purity of humanity while being able to appreciate the baser aspects; I believe the more we embrace what is bad about ourselves the less energy we have to spend suppressing it and we can channel that energy into better things. I would like my exhibit to be one of exploration for the viewers; maybe they will love it, maybe it will repulse them. Either way, they will hopefully have explored a part of themselves which I believe is healthy to do so; as, I think, does Russell.

While I can appreciate why an alternative cinematic release may be sensible as a viewer is likely to be expecting entertainment, not challenging art, in a cinema I do not agree with suppressing the piece from public release. Any reason a censor may have for suppressing the film has to be linked to a fear of the public's misunderstanding (as there are far more explicit films available the 'inappropriate content' reasoning is redundant). However, any audience seeking out this film at an Art Cinema or on DVD is evidently not the audience censors are afraid of misunderstanding the film; therefore, the reasoning behind continuing suppression seems confused and irrelevant. The censorship of Russell's vision seems to stem from both censors' and critics' confusion as to whether film should be entertainment or art. I believe it is for the filmmaker to make this decision and their film should then be treated accordingly rather than artists having their work forced into being that which they never intended it to be.

Trying to make things that look ancient. 1st experiment.

Hello!

So, after seeing some of Markus Selg - an artist whose sculpture make you feel like you in a museum rather than a gallery. I thought I'd look into some of the artefacts he may have been referencing and decided to make my take on a Boli (here's a small article on them http://www.randafricanart.com/Bamana_Boli_PB.html).

It's plaster and straw. I think I'd like to try mixing some more organic materials into it as with the Boliw themselves; although I can't say I'll be going as far as blood which has been found in some Boliw.

Sorry the location isn't more glamourous but as the figure is LIFE SIZE it is flipping heavy!!!

What do you think?

Chicken wire base.