Video, poem, and music by Hannah Stephenson, who blogged about it briefly at The Storialist.
Canadian poet and artist Brenda Clews does it all here: drawing, filming, editing, even constructing the music. “The world is a green furor of creativity – the green fire of life,” she writes in the description at YouTube, where she provides a detailed description of her process, including this note about the music:
I created the music in a cool program, a ‘P22 Music Text Composition Generator (A free online music utility)’: http://www.p22.com/musicfont In this program, each letter has a sound. When you put text in, you can choose what BMP and instrument you’d like, and the program generates a midi file, with the sheet music. I layered my track in GarageBand 6.0.2 using different instruments, splicing and re-arranging. […]
From start to finish took about 12 hours, there were many layers, of image, text, and sound, each with filters, and I had to render a few times, which took hours, to see if what I had produced worked.
I keep forgetting to revisit Zachary Schomburg’s Vimeo archives and grab the videos I haven’t shared here yet. This one’s a wonderfully mysterious, brief film with an insanely meta beginning. The poem is from Schomburg’s collection Scary, No Scary.
Paul Portugés wrote the words and screenplay, and Cecil Hirvi supplied machinima/mashup and music, and well as providing the avatar for one of the three actors in Second Life.
I’ve featured a number of Alastair Cook‘s filmpoems for other poets’ work, but this is the first one he’s made for a poem of his own. It’s due to premiere at a Geopoetics conference on March 27th at John Ruskin’s house, Brentwood, in the Lake District.
Today also we bring you the full text of Alastair’s think-piece on the poetry-film genre, “The Filming of Poetry.” Please go read and add your own thoughts. This first appeared in paper form at Anon Seven last summer. Thanks to Alastair for letting me repost it.
Cecelia Chapman directed the film and wrote the text, which may be read at Referential Magazine. The soundtrack was provided by Jeff Crouch (music) and Blaine Reininger (chant). At her tumblelog, Chapman contextualizes the film:
She does look like that art director that fired you, he the coke dealer at last years xmas party. But they are the inhabitants of apartments about to fall into the sea. MEET THE BLUFFS. They want the good life. Entertaining their friends drinking local cabs on the terrace watching the great fireball hit the horizon. Jogs on the beach. But wait! There is no more beach!
For a long time it has been apparent that the left side of the continental shelf, balanced on a plate that likes to shift, is slipping into the sea. But never doubt the selling power of California real estate agents and developers! Despite the bulldozers, workers hanging outside smoking, cranes throwing giant rocks into the sea to defend the cliff, an infinite variety of caterpillar equipment parked in the private parking lot, warning signs all over the area, midnight evacuations in soul-humbling storms to the apartment down the block, the apartments continue to rent. And the mile long cliff of small gated private communities continues to fall into the sea when the big north storms hit.