Monday, January 28, 2008

Doc 1/28/07

Last night I went to see a documentary called Doc, about a forgotten writer named H.L. Hume, or Doc as he was known.

He started life as a wiz-kid who was attending an Ivy League college by age 16. Soon though, he dropped out to become a beatnik in the late 50s. While in France he was one of the chief founders of the esteemed Paris Review literary magazine. A few years later he returned to the U.S. and married and had four daughters.

During these years he lived a bohemian life and tinkered with a variety of inventions. Among them designing paper houses for the United Nations that were meant for third world countries. Most of his projects were abandoned before reaching fruition.

On a dare he wrote a novel titled The Underground City that was critically acclaimed. Soon followed by a 2nd called Men Die that received equal praise and success. Around this time he became involved with a variety of activists causes and was jailed briefly. He also acted as Normal Mailer's campaign manager during Mailer's failed bid to become New York's mayor.

To escape his fear of the police Hume and his family moved to England where be began to write his third book. Before the writing got very far Hume became obsessed with the idea that the CIA was following him. His friends and family all believed this was a delusion, and as his paranoia became more acute it was assumed he was mentally ill.

Eventually his family returned to America in order to escape the situation. A few years later Hume began showing up on Ivy League campuses as a unofficial professor teaching Soctratic style lectures in public spaces. At one point he gave away $12,000, a hundred dollars at a time with the instruction that the receiver gives half of it to someone else.

Hume's lectures were a mix of visionary prophecies, anti-establishment wisdom, and flights of delusional fantasy. Some of his views, such as the belief that the media was being used to brainwash the public, seem completely lucid and even more true in the present day. While some of his other ideas were fairly deranged.

Despite the mixed blessings of his teachings, during the turmoil of the late 60's he amassed a sizable following of students who followed his teachings and lifestyle.

After his death his daughter Immy Hume began to make the documentary in review. After doing some research she found at that the CIA was in fact following him for over 30 years and at times watching his every move. This was because they believed that liberals who would create something like the Paris Review must certainly be communists.

The film made me think about mental illness. How much of it is simply a matter of conforming to popular belief systems? Is it possible to hold views that go against the mainstream and still be sane? In the old Soviet Union political dissidents were locked in insane asylums. It is not uncommon for people to believe that those who go against the social order are "maladjusted."

But for the person who holds a nonconformist view, what does that situation do to one psychologically? People often disparage homeless people by saying that they a just mentally ill people. After spending time with homeless people I came to the conclusion that the experience of being homeless makes one mentally ill. Could it be true that the experience of holding nonconformist views can also make one mentally ill? It is said that when Einstein discovered the theory of relativity he was frightened because he thought he might be seen as insane. If his ideas had not been supported by the scientific community perhaps he would have been seen as insane. Regardless of the empirical truth of his ideas.

There is another factor that plays into the scheme of things when someone is creative. Creative ideas often appear through the process of listening to the random noise that emerges from the unconscious mind. I think most people just ignore those thoughts, but a creative person may listen to those thoughts and consider their value. Most of them might be worthless, but a few might be brilliant. If the person speaks of these ideas as they work through them, might they not sound insane? Might much of their energy and time appear to be wasted in the eyes of those who do not understand this creative process?

These days we try to fix those who have what appear to be mental problems with fast acting psychotropic drugs. We see them advertised on TV commercials every day. One has to wonder what we might really be fixing away.

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

1/9/07 Video Shoot

1/9/07
Last night I directed a video shoot. With nowhere else to shoot I tore apart my kitchen and covered the wall with green screen material. The shoot is for projection footage for a multimedia performance of a piece called Struggle The Void. (lyrics below)

I wore a black hood with the face covered with green screen material. This will allow me to insert other images where my face would be. Other shots included green screening out a hole in my bare chest so fire can be inserted. I also shot a nude female playing the violin with the head and hips and legs covered with green screen so it appears as only a torso.

Here are the lyrics to the piece:


Searching through the nothingness
The curse of birth has snarled me
Desire for objects, lust for flesh
Diversions steal each moment's truth
Bloated with complacency
The reptiles build the babel great
Copulation steams with neon lights
The primordial ooze brings forth its fruit

Close your eyes, float into sleep
On a lily branch a dove is perched
Walk with me, look to the sky
Hear the breathing universe
All is perfect, all is pleasure
Mother's breast is always near
A fire burns in nature's bosom
The heartless Earth opens her arms

Look into my eyes
Can you share my feelings?
Can you know my thoughts?
We are together, but we are alone
My heart is empty
The emptiness is a mirror
I see my face in the mirror
I see the lines on my face
I see the future
I am an animal condemned to futility
Time mocks my every breath

Time steals my breath away
The taste of blood is in my mouth
We labor for our daily bread
The ancestral echoes pull us home
Maggots feast on futility
Narcissus dreams of billboards high
The odor of sex moves marionettes
Within the atoms it endures

The raven brings us charity
A drop of semen in the womb
Detachment is a feather pillow
The garden beckons innocence
One day is just like another
A meal of honey and cornbread
The great one floats on silent waters
His indifference is our time to play

This is my hand
I can move it
I can feel the blood pulsing through my veins
Is this my self?
Is this what I am?
This mass of flesh, sinews, blood and bones?
There must be something more
I have a name and I am alive

The insectiles dance in endless circles
Within the current I am lost
Our goals are phantoms that devour
Death makes our labors meaningless
The white mask threatens with the truth
Satori is the savior we decline
The clutching womb calls out to mankind
But within we find just empty space

The illusion of forms fades into one
A million saviors dance beneath
A pure bath of electricity
Chaos gives birth to all potential
Open your eyes, stand on the mountain
Hear the song of the wild gander
All is nothing, all is illusion
Surrender to the contradiction

Standing on life's edge
Looking out into the darkness
How can one live in the face of death
Knowing all is nothingness?
I call out to you from the darkness
But you remain silent
Hiding in a mist of unspoken promises
Is there anyone out there? Speak to me
Reach out your hand
Reveal yourself
I want answers not faith
In our fear we make an image
A myth
A babble of insanity
I will tear you from my heart
And if in the final hour you are there
I will spit in your face
I am alive!
I search and I find nothing
Nothing
Nothing

Tuesday, January 08, 2008

Danny Williams 1/8/07

Saturday night I went to see three experimental films by Danny Williams. Williams was a friend of Andy Warhol's who worked in the Factory Scene. In 1965 he disappeared, never to be heard from again. His niece made a documentary film about his disappearance titled "A Walk In The Sea."

William's family did not know he made films until recently when the Museum Of Modern Art found the three films mixed in with a collection of Warhol films that are awaiting restoration. None of the films had a soundtrack, but at the showing live musicians created a soundtrack for the longest of the three.

The films were in 16mm black and white and we edited in the camera. (A very hard thing to do) The used a lot of slow and fashion motion techniques. Most of the footage was of people working or partying at the factory. There is a long party scene that includes Edie Sedgewick and poet Gerard Malanga. The people are squeezed onto a couch with their limbs strew over each other as the drink champaign and laugh. Although they were obviously happy and having a good time, there was something eerie about the footage. Something melencholy about it. Almost ghostly.

The last of the three films was the earliest footage of Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground. Lou looks like a scared boy who is in over his head in the factory scene.

The showing was only the fourth time the the films had been seen by the public. The audience included some of the old Factory people who I know from watching documentaries about the period. After was William's niece led a discussion Q&A with the audience. Both the film and the event were quite inspiring.