Den nakna ön









Hadaka no Shima (The Naked Island), has been one of the highlights of this season's Cinemateket programme so far, and it was spellbinding viewing tonight. I look eagerly forward to the remainder of the Japanese New Wave selection.
Kaneto Shindo's 1964 film centres on the continuous uphill struggles, living in isolation on a small island in the Seito Inland Sea.
Shot in black and white, and almost completely void of dialogue, Shindo uses repeated daily actions to spell out the monotony of hardship - the breaks from the constant work (a family trip to the mainland, local celebrations) stand out in stark contrast as short interludes of spontaneity. Dialogue is not necessary; even if there had been a script, it doesn't feel like family would have anything to say to each other that could be conveyed with language.
Accompanying the daily farming grind is an incredibly moving soundtrack by Hikaru Hayashi, perfectly reflecting and enhancing the back-breaking labour, one repeated motion after another. Tending to their precious crops, staggering up the rocky, precarious slopes of the island laden with full buckets of precious water - there is a certain elegance to the characters movements, as the gingerly place one foot in front of the other, sinewy arms supporting the yokes across their backs and shoulders in a delicate tightrope balancing act.

Films like this continue to fuel my love of, and fascination with, islands.

Facade














Designer Tokujin Yashioka created this window display for Maison Hermès for the winter of 2009. A black and white video of a closely cropped woman's face as she gently exhales - while a hanging Hermès scarf billows in sync with the imaginary air, due to a stealthily concealed fan.
A wonderful illsion of life and movement which shifts the focus from the fabricated nature commonly associated with the silver screen, into a new semblance of reality;  perhaps a literal, physical manifestation of the idea of 'breathing new life' into something.


in fact, according to the man himself:
"on designing a window-display of Maison Hermès, I intended to express people’s daily 'movements'
with a suspicion of humor. there are moments when I perceive a hidden presence of a person in
the movements born naturally in daily life. I created a design where one can perceive someone
behind the scarves as if life were being breathed into them.
the window is designed with an image of woman projected on to a monitor. the scarf softly sways
in the air in response to the woman’s blow."


I am always impressed by how as colloquialism, pun or play on words can, instead of just being a one-trick pony, manifest itself into a multi-faceted, layered work. This idea is something I aspire to achieve with my own work and my own incorporation of wordplay therein.

quote via


 

 

Light Thickens


Yasujiro Ozu
The Only Son
1936

Tacita Dean
Disappearance at Sea
1996

- For many, Donald Crowhurst is just a cheat who abused the sacred unwrittens of good sportsmanship. But for some, it is more complicated than this and he is seen as much a victim of the Golden Globe as the pursuer of it. His story is about human failing, about pitching his sanity against the sea, where there is no human presence or support system on which to hang a tortured psychological state. His was a world of acute solitude, filled with the ramblings of a troubled mind.
Tacita Dean, 1997


The film Disappearance at Sea is part of a series of Tacita Dean's works under the same name focusing on Donald Crowhurst and the Teignmouth Electron, and the effect the sea had upon his mind.


The Only Son was Ozu's first talkie - exploring the mother/son relationship, and perhaps also the idea of 'big fish in a small pond' and vice versa. Ryosuke moves from a small town to Tokyo with his tutor,  to continue his education, but both are small pebbles cast into the swelling sea of people in Tokyo, and their efforts result in little success, Ryosuke teaching in a unremarkable night school, and renting cheap shabby rooms for his wife and child, and his tutor now running a tonkatsu restaurant in the lonely outskirts of the city.

After the Quake (part 1)

Swirling waves on the coast at Oarai, Ibaraki prefecture 
Cargo containers in Sendai

photographs: AP and Itsuo Inouye/AP via Guardian

Two overwhelming images from the 8.9 magnitude Sendai earthquake and subsequent tsunami which struck Japan on Friday, March 11th, 2011. Another chilling reminder, so soon after the earthquake in Christchurch, of the power of nature.

(This Bird Has Flown)

 Toru and Naoko and Toru and Midori

Images from Norwegian Wood, an adaptation of Haruki Murakami's much cherished novel from 1987, released late last year. I am uncertain as to whether or not I would like to foray into the cinematic version, as I hold the novel so close to my heart. Along with Catch-22 by Joseph Heller, it is one of a select few books I can open randomly on any page and pick up where I left off.  I am apprehensive because I fear that Norwegian Wood will leave me with the same bitter after taste of disappointment as Mike Nichol's 1970 adaptation of Catch-22. The images I have built in my head, the sound of the characters voices and intonations and the environments they live in, will always seems more complete and real than any film. Perhaps, as a novel in one part about memories, it is best to keep your version of it inside your head.


However I am sure my curiosity will trump my well intentioned Murakami purist mindset, and if the opportunity arose I would watch it.

Line and Length


































































Shusaku Arakawa
morning box, portrait of a civilization (1969)
via Ro/Lu

Macrame on wood
via an ambitious project collapsing

Langley House by Warren & Mahoney
(1965)
17 Michael Ave, Christchurch, New Zealand
via Christchurch Modern


continuing exploring my interests in lines, and lengths of materials used to make other lines, mainly in craft and architecture.  sometimes it is hard to gather up all these different threads of interest in my head and to try and arrange or make sense of them in a more linear, less scatterbrained manner. perhaps once i recommence employment in a library, beginning on the first of next month, my catalogued and ordered surrounds will transfer into the rest of my life.