Modelling...
Yesterday me and my sister did some objectification in the woods in the rain. The results are now up on Facebook. Maybe I should be Britain's Next Top Model? I certainly enjoy modelling, although some of the finished products which come close to come-to-bed-eyes creep me out a bit. I think it's the fun of being able to morph and create new stories so quickly. In one afternoon I was a fairy, a warrior, a statue, an elf, Snow White, the Highwayman's woman, Red Riding Hood, a lost innocent, and innocence lost. No other art form lets you play with so many ideas with such freedom. Inevitably, we also did some dead photos. What is it about me and looking dead?
While I squalled in mud and got covered in resin, we chatted a bit about objectification and the male gaze and the rest. But the ultimate problem is, I'm an aesthete first and everything else second. So while I respect and understand, i.e., Socialogical Images for getting their pants in a twist about things like this, or this - if it's in the name of a good picture, then do I really care...?
Music...
For exercise, I'm hooping to Mike Oldfield. I do not think Mike Oldfield is, on the whole, a very good artist. While his music is impressive, his songs are way too long and repetitive, and sometimes are just noise. Having said that, when he gets down to it it's beautiful stuff:
That's the end of Side 2 of Incantations - which is 4 sides long - and it's worth sitting through the dross for it. Perhaps I should work it out? I'm learning to play his "Rio Grande".
Most of my piano efforts are focused on incidental geek music - incanon songs, performed as part of the narrative. Some Firefly, some Blake, some Who. And Sander Cohen's Masterpiece from Bioshock. The great thing is, it's all good music and quite unrecogniseable except to the initiated, so I like the injokey nature of it. I think there's a great evening to be had, though, performing that type of music - particularly all the ballady ones. There's no reason Dayna couldn't perform Gaeta's Lament, while Gaeta (in happier days) jammed to Hero of Canton - space ballads, like ballads from all places and races, are timeless in their themes.
And it keeps me off the Formby, to the relief of absolutely everyone.
What else? I went DVD shopping:
When big movies come out, little companies produce rip-off versions which capitalise on the zeitgeist. Presumably, enough must be sold to make it worthwhile. Empire did an article on a company who specialises in them; and I've been interested "Sherlock Holmes" ever since seeing it reviewed favourably-ish in the Empire Video Dungeon. This is the first time (as a film buff) I've got my hands on one. Firstly, the colour scheme matches that of the current movie. The quote on the front of the box reads "In an extraordinary league of its own", recalling to mind that other steampunk epic, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Although why you'd want to remind your audience of that is beyond me. The blurb reads:
All very interesting; but I was sold at the Sherlock Holmes Fights Giant Dinosaurs point. Watching the trailer, frankly I don't see how I couldn't enjoy it.
Bad television
Which is more than can be said for Classic Battlestar Galactica. I always assumed I would like it more. New Galactica was undeniably excellent, but it did a lot of things that irritate me: the Jack Harkness Conflict Resolution Method, all gun-pointing-and-crying, most episodes; the need to be edgy and relevant and characters which to me seemed inconsistent. As discussed before, oldstyle production strategies just seem to appeal to my sense of drama more - I like 40s British cinema, and characters not talking about how they feel but we're able to infer it anyway, from their actions and eyes. It must also be said, I'm a fan of trashy special effects - when they're good, because I find them more exciting and beautiful than modern special effects. When they're bad, because they're terrible.
Shame; old Battlestar Galactica is very terrible indeed. As suspected, it's got this American solid po-facedness to it - none of the fun of B7's rubbish universe, where things break down all the time. Despite being the last humans in the galaxy, everything i svery shiney - from the consoles to the actor's teeth. The special effects are actually pretty cool, particularly the spaceship battles. But the characters were predictable, the dialogue was awful, and in all, it was a very non-controvertial experience. My sister later commented "I'm amazed they remade it like they did!" I'm not. When faced with a show containing not one, but two adorable little kids with ruffle-able hair, my first response would always be to read it as darkly as possible. Still, it's amazing they got something SO good out of something so very dodgy
And...
Letters project is rattling along nicely - 111 pages long, and the end is within sight! This week is proving to be a challenging one. I'm beginning to interview people about their memories, which has prompted several wannabie-breakdowns. I'm revisiting one of my deep, dark regrets for the sake of completeness - I might tell you how that goes.
And I've got the difficult letters to reason with. I was always sure I was leaving them because their canonicity was so dodgy. Now I revisit them, they're actually more consistent than I remembered - but there's another reason I discover. Its all heavy, heavy, uncomfortable, stuff, atque semper mea culpa.
Do you know how easy it is to read a letter addressed to you, pleading for help, for acnowledgment, begging from the point of death for anything at all, blaming you but still having no one but you to rely on? Alright. Do you know how many I have to type up? About 20, 25 of varying lengths and levels of despair. Mortimer had a lot of destitute exes to ignore. Oh yes, Ruby. You've had your revenge alright. Typing them up is extremely heavy going because of my total helplessness, and partial culpability. What Mortimer did was very much in character and consistant with his mood in that period - he wanted to shut the past out as much as possible. With hindsight, its pretty harrowing stuff. I just want to be back there, arguing my point, defending my position - then giving him a slap and doing the right thing which I can see so clearly now, but he couldn't at the time. It's sorrowful, sorrowful stuff.
Yesterday me and my sister did some objectification in the woods in the rain. The results are now up on Facebook. Maybe I should be Britain's Next Top Model? I certainly enjoy modelling, although some of the finished products which come close to come-to-bed-eyes creep me out a bit. I think it's the fun of being able to morph and create new stories so quickly. In one afternoon I was a fairy, a warrior, a statue, an elf, Snow White, the Highwayman's woman, Red Riding Hood, a lost innocent, and innocence lost. No other art form lets you play with so many ideas with such freedom. Inevitably, we also did some dead photos. What is it about me and looking dead?
While I squalled in mud and got covered in resin, we chatted a bit about objectification and the male gaze and the rest. But the ultimate problem is, I'm an aesthete first and everything else second. So while I respect and understand, i.e., Socialogical Images for getting their pants in a twist about things like this, or this - if it's in the name of a good picture, then do I really care...?
Music...
For exercise, I'm hooping to Mike Oldfield. I do not think Mike Oldfield is, on the whole, a very good artist. While his music is impressive, his songs are way too long and repetitive, and sometimes are just noise. Having said that, when he gets down to it it's beautiful stuff:
That's the end of Side 2 of Incantations - which is 4 sides long - and it's worth sitting through the dross for it. Perhaps I should work it out? I'm learning to play his "Rio Grande".
Most of my piano efforts are focused on incidental geek music - incanon songs, performed as part of the narrative. Some Firefly, some Blake, some Who. And Sander Cohen's Masterpiece from Bioshock. The great thing is, it's all good music and quite unrecogniseable except to the initiated, so I like the injokey nature of it. I think there's a great evening to be had, though, performing that type of music - particularly all the ballady ones. There's no reason Dayna couldn't perform Gaeta's Lament, while Gaeta (in happier days) jammed to Hero of Canton - space ballads, like ballads from all places and races, are timeless in their themes.
And it keeps me off the Formby, to the relief of absolutely everyone.
What else? I went DVD shopping:
When big movies come out, little companies produce rip-off versions which capitalise on the zeitgeist. Presumably, enough must be sold to make it worthwhile. Empire did an article on a company who specialises in them; and I've been interested "Sherlock Holmes" ever since seeing it reviewed favourably-ish in the Empire Video Dungeon. This is the first time (as a film buff) I've got my hands on one. Firstly, the colour scheme matches that of the current movie. The quote on the front of the box reads "In an extraordinary league of its own", recalling to mind that other steampunk epic, League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Although why you'd want to remind your audience of that is beyond me. The blurb reads:
Fearsome monsters are terrorising London. Holmes and his fathful companion Dr Watson must embark on their most dangerous case yet. The investigation will take our heroic duo on an incredible journey that will see them do battle with their arch nemesis; the mad mechanical genius Spring-Heeled Jack, who will sop at nothing to bring destruction to London. Can Holmes and Watson save Queen and country from annihilation?Froth! Well I'm there. But the interesting part is this:
Featuring fantatic special effects of period England being ravaged by dragons, dinosaurs and cyber-men, Sherlock Holmes is a breathtaking adventure for the Doctor Who age!This Sherlock Holmes stars Gareth David Lloyd of Ianto-from-Torchwood infamy. In fact, he recieves top billing over the chap playing the great detective. Note how the blurb subtly appeals to the Whoniverse fans who might have picked up the DVD case. "cyber-men", I imagine their legal bods have told them, cannot be sued by the Pedler estate - Kit Pedler being the man who invented the "Cybermen".
All very interesting; but I was sold at the Sherlock Holmes Fights Giant Dinosaurs point. Watching the trailer, frankly I don't see how I couldn't enjoy it.
Bad television
Which is more than can be said for Classic Battlestar Galactica. I always assumed I would like it more. New Galactica was undeniably excellent, but it did a lot of things that irritate me: the Jack Harkness Conflict Resolution Method, all gun-pointing-and-crying, most episodes; the need to be edgy and relevant and characters which to me seemed inconsistent. As discussed before, oldstyle production strategies just seem to appeal to my sense of drama more - I like 40s British cinema, and characters not talking about how they feel but we're able to infer it anyway, from their actions and eyes. It must also be said, I'm a fan of trashy special effects - when they're good, because I find them more exciting and beautiful than modern special effects. When they're bad, because they're terrible.
Shame; old Battlestar Galactica is very terrible indeed. As suspected, it's got this American solid po-facedness to it - none of the fun of B7's rubbish universe, where things break down all the time. Despite being the last humans in the galaxy, everything i svery shiney - from the consoles to the actor's teeth. The special effects are actually pretty cool, particularly the spaceship battles. But the characters were predictable, the dialogue was awful, and in all, it was a very non-controvertial experience. My sister later commented "I'm amazed they remade it like they did!" I'm not. When faced with a show containing not one, but two adorable little kids with ruffle-able hair, my first response would always be to read it as darkly as possible. Still, it's amazing they got something SO good out of something so very dodgy
And...
Letters project is rattling along nicely - 111 pages long, and the end is within sight! This week is proving to be a challenging one. I'm beginning to interview people about their memories, which has prompted several wannabie-breakdowns. I'm revisiting one of my deep, dark regrets for the sake of completeness - I might tell you how that goes.
And I've got the difficult letters to reason with. I was always sure I was leaving them because their canonicity was so dodgy. Now I revisit them, they're actually more consistent than I remembered - but there's another reason I discover. Its all heavy, heavy, uncomfortable, stuff, atque semper mea culpa.
Do you know how easy it is to read a letter addressed to you, pleading for help, for acnowledgment, begging from the point of death for anything at all, blaming you but still having no one but you to rely on? Alright. Do you know how many I have to type up? About 20, 25 of varying lengths and levels of despair. Mortimer had a lot of destitute exes to ignore. Oh yes, Ruby. You've had your revenge alright. Typing them up is extremely heavy going because of my total helplessness, and partial culpability. What Mortimer did was very much in character and consistant with his mood in that period - he wanted to shut the past out as much as possible. With hindsight, its pretty harrowing stuff. I just want to be back there, arguing my point, defending my position - then giving him a slap and doing the right thing which I can see so clearly now, but he couldn't at the time. It's sorrowful, sorrowful stuff.
Comments (0)