Latest video reviews
scrambled transmission #3 by Matt Mullins
This month, American writer and poetry film artist Matt Mullins released a new author-made video poem on his Vimeo channel, titled “scrambled transmission #3.” It’s the most recent work from Mullins, who took second place at this year’s Filmetry 24: The Poetics of Cinema with his film, “Janet Leigh is Afraid of Jazz,” which is based on a poem by Marsha de la O and was previously profiled by Moving Poems.
“scrambled transmission #3” leads with an interesting soundscape, one which reflects the poem’s title, by way of a fuzzy, mechanical, radio-out-of-tune loop. It pairs well with the black and white found footage. The film’s opening image highlights a compelling fusion of insect and machine, and its following frames continue riffing on this same visual theme, which often make use of repetition. This piece also uses intertitles, so between the footage and its filter and the text on screen, “scrambled transmission #3” makes direct connections with the silent film era.
The poem itself, voice-overed by Mullins, evokes something of Hunter S. Thompson in its themes and tone: a third-person narrative in fragments highlighting mundane acts of violence and estrangement on a “typical atypical day,” mind-altering substances, memory, and American underground art subculture. Overall, the links between the insect world and the human psyche are made quite clear through the poem’s intertitles, voice-over, and found footage. I also thought that the delivery of the poem, particularly its cadence and sense of addled urgency, vaguely recalled the Beat Poets.
As for the filmmaker himself, Mullins’ description of his latest poetry film is refreshingly simple, as he writes: “Some things, one hopes, are self-explanatory.”
View the videopoem here.
Thesaurus of Reconstructive Microscopy by Ian Gibbins
Ian Gibbins‘ work has been featured here so often I’m apt to say he needs no introduction, but this video in fact serves as an introduction to an earlier chapter of his life, when he was better known as a scientist than a video artist, poet and electronic composer. I grew up in a natural history-obsessed family, so scientific instruments were major objects of lust in my prepubescent years, just as my poetic muscles were beginning to develop, and this takes me back to that fertile imaginary landscape. It’s super high-concept, though, so I’m gonna do the lazy thing and drop in the whole description from Vimeo:
“The Microscope Project” was a major installation / exhibition at the Flinders University Art Museum & City Gallery, 26th July – 21st September, 2014, in Adelaide, South Australia, featuring work by Ian Gibbins, Catherine Truman, Deb Jones, Angela Valamanesh and Nicholas Folland, curated by Fiona Salmon and Madeline Reece.
For much of his time at Flinders University, Ian managed the main microscopy research facility, contained divers kinds of sophisticated microscopes. In 2012, several old scanning electron microscopes, some fluorescence microscopes, and other ancillary equipment were decommissioned. Once state-of-the-art, they were now largely dysfunctional and no longer practically operational. However, they had long histories of contributing to internationally-recognised research into the nervous and cardiovascular systems, the gut, and much more.
… and then there was all their supporting documentation: schematic diagrams and plans, manuals, advertising brochures, catalogues, certifications of performance, packing lists.
Although much of the equipment had been disassembled down to their component parts, it was all to valuable to be dumped for scrap. There were many more stories to be told about these instruments. Perhaps we could re-imagine their pasts, their futures, the people who had made them, maintained them, used them…
So, over more than 12 months, the artists collaborated with these elements in the unique shared environment of The Distillery to create “The Microscope Project”. As part of the project, Ian wrote a series of texts that became the basis of the book, “How Things Work”, a unique collaboration between him, Catherine and Deb. Accompanying the book is a CD of “Microscope Music” composed using samples from the microscopes themselves and the various documents accompanying them.
In celebration of 10 years since The Microscope Project, this video is built around a set of images from the “How Things Work” book, their accompanied text, and a remix of some Microscope Music that did not make it onto the CD.
Listen to the full “Microscope Music” album at iangibbins.bandcamp.com/album/microscope-music
For more see: iangibbins.com.au/projects/the-microscope-project/
Unto Ourselves by Forrest Gander
“To see what’s there and not / already patterned by familiarity” begins this videopoem by Forrest Gander, using a text from his latest collection, Twice Alive: an Ecology of Intimacies. (The full title of the poem in the book is “Unto Ourselves III: To See What’s There”—p. 52.) The imagery of South Asian temple sculpture is used to great effect in this interrogation of familiarity/unfamiliarity, until “unconditional foreignness grows conditional, stops being foreign at all.”
Any non-titillating examination of the erotic is necessarily foreign to our sex-obsessed culture. And Gander goes further than that, choosing language from science rather than religion without disrespecting, much less heedlessly appropriating, a culture other than his own. Consider, for example, how a man with a wheelbarrow emerging from a dark passageway prepares us to see a giant boulder, a stone pestle grinding in a mortar, and the closing encounter with a lingam: the connections feel visceral rather than spiritual, to the point where stone and bodies become nearly interchangeable. This may be my favorite Forrest Gander videopoem to date.
We’d Love to be Masters of Our Time by Lina Ramona Vitkauskas
Dedicated to Wim Wenders, this square-format videopoem by Lina Ramona Vitkauskas with music and mixing by Ben Turner is an electronic ode to transience and mutability. As Vitkausas notes on her Vimeo page,
Words on paper or screen are arranged and captured for a moment. Poems exist, but the unique act of word arrangement for that moment in time is fleeting.
My poems are like photographs, capturing a string of images or moments so that they may exist in newly created forms for one moment.
Do visit her website as well. She’s launched a fascinating new generative poetry project called Hallucinations, and is looking for collaborators.
The Weekender by Joanna Fuhrman
A whimsical re-imagining of the New York City subway system by videopoet Joanna Fuhrman.