French artist Sophie Calle, from Voir la Mer, 2011 (the filmed reactions of individuals who lived in Istanbul but who encountered the sea for the first time)
Ryan McGinley’s new video for Sigur Ros.
Slow-mo poesie. Washed out beach haze color. A hover of humidity that is cloud cover.
If only real life could move at this rate, broken up into increments, so that we could see the fibers separate, so that we could feel its texture.
Everything would be significant. Nothing would be missed.
Have you seen this absolute gem of a film on Into The Gloss?
Langley Fox Hemingway (that name is straight out of a Wes Anderson film) is just totally breath-taking in that Marc Jacobs gown. Wish I could sleep in it– the way it glides around her LA apt is the very definition of sleepy languid.
The film is about the life and work of Dutch/Californian conceptual artist Bas Jan Ader, who in 1975 disappeared under mysterious circumstances at sea in the smallest boat ever to cross the Atlantic. As seen through the eyes of fellow emigrant filmmaker Rene Daalder, the picture becomes a sweeping overview of contemporary art films as well as an epic saga of the transformative powers of the ocean.
TILDA SWINTON: We started talking about Russian novels a lot. We started talking about the idea of the way in which there is a tradition of women exploding and imploding social structure and so this idea of this woman, this alien who is born into an incredibly rigid – well, she’s born into a rigid society in Russia. She’s married into an almost more rigid society in Milano, courtesy of several million Euros, and she suppresses herself completely and then she kind of implodes.
MARGARET: The house is a character in the film, as well.
TILDA SWINTON: Yeah. The film is about milieu and the thing that really sets the milieu, the set, in fact, because it really is like a set – you can’t live in a house like that and – I’m sure that somebody might try to hang out in a t-shirt in that house, but it’s tricky, you know. It kind of imposes – it’s like script. It tells you how to behave. You know, you have your back stairs. You have your endless kitchens. You have your, you know, service lifts and there’s a kind of grandeur that imposes on you, which is a little like a museum. It makes you an object, but at the same time it’s a little like a prison.
I watched this today and it affected me. It is quiet and grand and just big. It’s a big film– not Hollywood big– but the kind of sweeping gesture you might experience when you hear an orchestra for the first time. There’s a lot of invisible volume. It is beautiful in the way you experience a ruins, or the body of ash that might disintegrate the moment you touch it.
Without warning, she asked me, ‘Hey, Watanabe, can you explain the difference between the English subjunctive present and the subjunctive past?’
‘I think I can,’ I said.
‘Let me ask you, then, what purpose does stuff like that serve in daily life?’
‘None at all,’ I said. ‘It may not serve any concrete purpose, but it does give you some kind of training to help you grasp things in general more systematically.’
Midori took a moment to give that some serious thought. ‘You’re amazing,’ she said. ‘That never occurred to me before. I always thought of things like the subjunctive case and differential calculus and chemical symbols as totally useless. A pain in the neck. So I’ve always ignored them. Now I have to wonder if my whole life has been a mistake’
- Norwegian Wood, Haruki Murakami
I can’t wait to see this.