by Ava Marshall (Gallatin BA ’23)
Parts 1-5: Link to Full PDF
Part 1 “Attempt to Break it Down”
“The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for someway, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.” Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
by Barnaby Ruhe (Gallatin Professor)
Barnaby Ruhe received his doctorate in shamanism and art practice, an interdisciplinary effort combining psychology, anthropology, art history, phenomenology and art studio action. He was senior editor of Art/World newspaper in the 1980s and ’90s and wrote the first New York City reviews of work by Francesco Clemente and the Starn Twins, as well as essays on Francisco de Goya, Henri Matisse, Andy Warhol and Joseph Beuys. Ruhe currently serves on the board of Artists Talk on Art. A romantic artist, he incorporates sentiment, gesture and psychic journeying into his paintings, and he runs shaman healing workshops at Shamandome Camp at the Burning Man festival each summer. He is also a six-time world boomerang champion.
By Cade Richmond (Gallatin BA ’20)
I have grown accustom to frequent and unwelcome bloody noses. In both my childhood and adulthood, I have had to navigate situations in which my natural bodily processes transform my body into a public spectacle. One may consider this an absurd reading of my circumstances, but I believe there is truly something to unpack about the reactions that others have to my nose bleeds. I would say that I must deal with a nosebleed about once a day and these leakages often happen in public and institutionalized spaces. I am not equipped to deal with these nosebleeds as I lack a travel pack of tissues and have grown
accustomed to moving through spaces with blood dripping down my face. People approach me with haste to check on me, ask if I need assistance, or to alert me to the obvious fact that I am covered in blood. Given my predisposition, I say thank you or, not frequently, shrug off the person. Much of this depends on how I perceive their intention in approaching my body. I feel as though the nosebleed leaves my body vulnerable to public consumption. I become an open person that people feel the need, or the obligation, to approach. Though I have no ability to read minds, I try to read other people’s body language and tone of voice in “handling” me. My friends laugh, squeal, and scream in disgust. Women who I do not know often treat me with kindness or avoid my path to allot the space needed to manage my own body. What I have noticed though is the strangers who approach me the most frequently and with the most apathy are men, often white and who appear to subscribe to normative masculine gender performance. This seems peculiarly fitting given conceptions about the white savior who must take it upon themselves, though with indifference, to regulate and to correct the physically queered body. This project involves a series of selfies taken on an iPhone which show the photographer, me, with a bleeding nose. The purpose of the series is dual fronted. The first relies on the medium of the photos, a selfie taken on one’s own phone. With people approaching me without my consent, I believe that taking a selfie mid-nosebleed allows me to recapture a degree of agency. I transform myself into my own spectacle so that I may enjoy and relish in the activity that many find revolting. The second front hinges upon the audience’s perception of the selfies. What does one feel when viewing this spectacle through a mediated lens? Why do people feel the way they do about my bloody nose and how are these feelings shaped by cultural understandings of propriety in publicly shared spaces? Why are my bloody noses so offensive and what do people’s reactions confer about the politics of the body in public versus in private? This a project about the body, space, agency, publicness, and feeling. I hope that people view this project and leave consterned with their own attitudes towards the politics of appropriateness and the rights of individuals to their own bodies.
Published April 13, 2020
The sTans are Nina Katchadourian (Gallatin Professor) and Lisa Liu (https://lisaliuguitar.com/ ).
The sTans recently put out: https://thestans.bandcamp.com/releases
Bayan Kabukiwan (Gallatin MA ’21)
by Kwami Coleman (Gallatin Professor)
Film and sound recordings are illusory temporal media that require elapsed, clock time1 for playback and consumption. They are illusory in that each medium sets forth with unfolding events that may be nonlinear, cyclical and otherwise abstracted: in film, a scene sequence that distorts or fractures the chronology of the narrative or perhaps the frame rate of a particular scene (i.e. slow motion); and, in music, tempo, metre (incremental or fluid), strong accents against a uniform metric pulse (syncopation) and architectonic recurrences or transformations of motivic material in formal structure (i.e. sonata allegro form). Film and recorded music creators understand that their craft, in one way or another, requires the manipulation of at least two senses of time: that of the interior world of an art piece, which unfolds against the unyielding incremental ticking of exterior, ‘real world’ clock time. [Read the whole Article]
Originally published in Transmedia Directors: Artistry, Industry and New Audiovisual Aesthetics / Editor(s): Carol Vernallis, Holly Rogers, Lisa Perrott
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