A Planetary Journey

These images were all taken on the road surface of the Highland Parkway in Rochester, NY.

And everything goes to hell

Apple Tragedy

a poem by Ted Hughes from the amazing book Crow: From the Life and Songs of the Crow, that I recommend to any lover of poetry and mythology.

So on the seventh day
the serpent rested,
God came up to him.
“I’ve invented a new game,” he said.

The serpent started in surprise
At this interloper.
But God said: “You see this apple?
I squeeze it and look–cider.”

The serpent had a good drink
and curled up into a question mark.
Adam drank and said: “Be my god.”
Eve drank and opened her legs

And called to the cockeyed serpent
And gave him a wild time.
God ran and told Adam
Who in drunken rage tried to hang himself in the orchard.

The serpent tried to explain, crying “Stop”
But drink was splitting his syllable.
And Eve started screeching: “Rape! Rape!”
And stamping on his head.

Now whenever the snake appears she screeches
“Here it comes again! Help! O Help!”
Then Adam smashes a chair on its head,
And God says: “I am well pleased”

And everything goes to hell.

Encounters at the End of the World

At a Chicago movie theatre, fortunate enough to find a parking spot close to the entrance because we were running a little late to see Guy Maddin’s latest film, my friends and I were momentarily frozen by the melodious and familiar baritone booming from the murky depths of an adjacent screen bathed in blue. Our longing glances were interrupted when I finally spoke, “Is that Herzog?” Or was it “Werner” that I said, assuming a familiarity afforded to myself by the countless nights spent watching his films… twice, once as they were intended and again with his commentary, not to mention the extras, interviews, and articles I voraciously consume from the man. This mild obsession with Werner Herzog began with Stroszek, the first film that would drive me to immediate consumption, i.e. once the credits rolled and my brain reassembled itself, I grabbed my laptop and ordered my own copy of the film (this would happen again when I watched Wim Wenders’ Paris, Texas).

At the theatre in Chicago, I toyed with the idea of suggesting we shrug off Maddin for Herzog, but I refrained. Encounters at the End of the World would have to be added to my list of films I must try to see when I am in a big city. I have this list because my home city (Rochester) is smallish and despite having an “independent theatre”, my preferred selection of new films are seldom screened here. However, the Dryden Theatre screened Encounters, I should have predicted this! They also screened My Winnipeg, the Maddin film. I love the Dryden and I regard its operation as top notch, which is why it was tough, and puzzling, when I saw Encounters. First, the first reel of the film was horribly scratched, second, the changeovers were sloppy and erroneous. Maybe it was the only print they could get? Regardless, I was happy for the opportunity to see the film on the big screen than only on my home small screen. Anyway, back to the film…

Encounters is a highly entertaining and enjoyable film, of course, who cannot enjoy the portrayal of something that is inherently beautiful (Antarctica and the southern pole), but Herzog goes a step further. He pairs the beautiful vast landscapes and ice ceilings with the oftentimes messy man-made disturbances. But beyond this contrasting, a norm for Herzog, his incorporation of sound in this film is superb. The audio track pierces into your mind, be it the high pitches associated with the machinery and tractors, or the otherworldly sounds of the Antarctic.

This superb use of sound is best illustrated in a scene where a group of marine scientists are on all fours, some lying directly on the freezing ice, silently listening through the ice for the sea lions’ mating call and we, the audience, hear those mating calls booming in the theatre. In any other production, at this instant a director would quickly cut in footage of sea lions swimming majestically in the chilly blue sea, but Herzog dwells on the silent scientists and their intense listening for what seems like an eternity. The long take forces us to redirect attention from the visual to the aural, our mirror neurons taking a cue from what we see, giving us a level of audio concentration we seldom experience in a film.

Herzog has said that he is a filmmaker because he is not good at anything else, he also gives the caveat that this doesn’t mean he is a good filmmaker, just that he can’t do anything else. This is a sentiment that I’ve since heard repeated by a handful of artists, a sentiment that I often think of when I envision myself in the future. My once whole-hearted approach to my work has slowly dwindled to 3/4-hearted, and who knows where it will go in the future, so I am left wondering if I will pick up some art form that makes me happy, something that I may not even be good at, but something that I can pursue whole-heartedly and carve myself a niche that will give me personal satisfaction. That is all anyone wants.

I’ve always thought Herzog was a purveyor of the human condition, this latest film puts a spotlight on this notion.

It’s Going to Snow

From an incomplete letter found in the street a few days ago:

I remember around this time last year, preparing for your birthday and getting you your gift (Pee Wee’s Big Adventure!) and how exciting it was! It was like having the same kind of anticipation before my own birthday–I will admit though, I was pretty nervous–we had just met and that gift was the first one I had ever given you! Even so, I felt right away that I knew what to get you.

The less said, the better, but if you want to read the remaining bit, please do, and feel free to suggest where you think it might be heading… (a somewhat readable image of the letter)

Here are some things I think:

• First, that this is a letter suggests that this relationship has taken a turn for the worse, or is at least on the edge of something dire, let alone the fact that I found it on the street.
• The recounting of past cherished memories is also indicative of a failing relationship. Been there, done that.
• The thing about the hoodie and the hug is cliche, try something else.
• The that thing you said to me the other day… part is probably really awkward right about now. Seriously, 1-800-273-TALK.
• I think the juicy meat of this letter falls on the next page, which I could not find, despite my efforts after reading the first page.

Prove me wrong Madison, prove me wrong.

Sincerely,

lil’ nut brown

P. S. Love ya Shnooks!