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Written by Elliott Johnston
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Tuesday, 23 February 2010 14:48 |
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From Luis Gonzalez's film, "Human Flows"
The Bean Cycle/Matter Bookstore is hosting an evening of experimental film with a dash of non-pre-recorded, flesh-and-blood music on Saturday, February 27 at 7pm. MatterDaily asked the night's distinguished curator, Jacob DeRaadt, to put down some thoughts in advance to get our minds a-reelin' (pun intended!).
From Mr. DeRaadt:
This evening is a showcase of people that are making film in their own unique ways. There are two artists from Denver, Mario Zoots and Milton Melvin Crossaint (MMC3); two Fort Collins locals, Gretchen Blegen and Matthew Sage; and Luis Gonzalez from Portland, Oregon. Stylistically, each individual's aesthetic efforts are in a world of their own. At the same time, most of the artists work in a loose, abstract manner.
I've only gotten the chance to preview two films from Luis Gonzalez and Gretchen Blegen's, which isn't fair to the other artists, but oh well, here goes...
And with the disclosure of this artist being a personal friend, I would put him in the lineage of experimental film-makers such as Stan Brackhage, who plays with rapid-cut techniques in a rhythmic fashion while toying with the outer limits of the amount of technicolor beauty human eye's vision can withstand. Gonzalez meshes together the chaos of street scenes in crowded Southeast Asia with the visual metaphor of fishes swimming on top of another in a river. At different moments in "Human Flows", claustrophobia of the crowded global existence is juxtaposed with the serenity and calm of human-less nature. This barrage of imagery is reinforced by an epic electro-acoustic soundtrack composed specifically for the film. Gonzalez writes of the film:
"Human Flows is a personal expression on the non-linear, material nature of the world and of human lives. Cites, vehicles, people, rivers, and mountains are abstracted into nauseating, hyper-real layers/flows. Perhaps, an attempt to put viewers into a deep trance of layered symbols, the everyday, and the sublime. Shot in Burma, China, Japan, Hong Kong, Cambodia, Indonesia, Thailand, Laos, and USA."
In a similar fashion, Blegen's film explores textures of light, liquid, and bodily functions in a slow, meditative fashion that draws the viewer into an internal world of subtle experience. Viscous liquids flow and merge in harmony with one another, leaving the meaning open to each person's interpretation.
In addition to the film screenings, there will be a performance from Fort Collins' own Christina the Hunn, who is bringing out brand new spanking tunes that conjure up images of Dr. Seuss writing a book with Bratmobile in a wooden shed.
An Evening of Experimental Film will be held at The Bean Cycle/Matter Bookstore, 144 N. College in Fort Collins on Saturday, February 27 at 7pm. The event is free and open to the public.
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Written by Scarlett Watters
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Monday, 15 February 2010 10:55 |
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Self Proclaimed Un-Romantics left their corporate desks for the plantations of Ecuador to learn romance
from embroidered palms of the plantations' villagers and to reignite lust in their plastic wives
instead they found the villagers hands to rough to touch smooth skin between legs, too calloused to feel infants' cheeks.
so the un-romantics stole carnations, roses, baby's breath But without crops, pesticides, thorns
calluses peeled and healed children picked wild flowers and couples made love in overgrown pastures
This poem was first published in Matter 10: Village.
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Written by Elliott Johnston
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Monday, 08 February 2010 12:59 |
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The Old Town Writing Group
There is a seductive myth of the lone writer. The master wordsmith sending magic back from pristine solitude, typing up pages and pages in some cabin in the woods—no one around for miles except furry animals and the occasional postman at the end of the road. Golden-worded thunderbolts radiate from a God-like mind. Sentences flow like caramel does in candy bar commercials. Transitions roll out easy, like drool from an afternoon nap. Such transcendent fluency is train wrecked by only one pesky obstruction: people. Those rampant interrupters.
That’s the myth. In reality, most writers need people. In reality, most writers go soft with no deadline, no one waiting on the other edge of the computer screen. Some unchecked stories get loose and meandering, some unchecked egos balloon exponentially, only to deflate rapidly with the obnoxious farting sound of self-pity. Most writers need a balance, a grounding mechanism, a central command to report to.
Most writing is enhanced by nuts-and-bolts concepts: workshopping, feedback, and revisions. While these craft-centric ideas may not sound sexy, the finished product is. Smart, cogent writing peer-reviewed and trimmed of unnecessary fat? Sexy. Smart, cogent writing about sex peer-reviewed and trimmed of unnecessary fat? Extra-super-sexy. This is the M.O. behind “Savage Night,” a Valentines Day reading put on by The Old Town Writing Group, a six-woman band of established Fort Collins authors who aim to share their work and the benefits of self-starting a writing collective.
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Written by Randy Leija
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Thursday, 04 February 2010 18:39 |
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“The past is never dead. It’s not even past” -William Faulkner
Surrounded by a mass of spectators—or perhaps only one—reality could not be understood without its theatrical nature. To paraphrase Shakespeare, what we call life seems to be a movie that runs perpetually, and we actors and actresses memorize the plot, change its regularity, sometimes without knowledge of the story’s real meaning. Sometimes we have arguments about our roles. Sometimes we have no chance to go back and correct our mistakes. Our movie is full of tragedy and comedy—“that foolish tale told by an idiot, full of sound of fury,” as Macbeth said.
Pedor Almodovar’s latest film, Broken Embraces (Los Abrazos Rotos), follows this theatrical nature but develops and stretches its boundaries. In the beginning, we curiously see a blind director operating under a pseudonym, and, as the story unfolds, so do the reasons behind the name switch. Or so it seems. The beginning is emblematic and even trickery, but Almovodar manages the cliché and develops, by a mastery use of retrospective, its causes and consequences. He suggests that, if in reality the past is imposible to change, perhaps there is a way to fix it or change our impression of it. The answer lies within our imagination and, in this case, the will to forgive. He suggests that if our past holds tragedy, we have the power to change it for ourselves. Rather than viewing it as regret, a broken embrace, the film urges us to see it as a last kiss—an understanding and forgivable last kiss.
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Friday, 22 January 2010 20:24 |
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Join the Old Town Writing Group on the lustiest night of the year for a reading filled with savage desires, irregular heartbeats, and uncooperative body parts.
Kimberly Fields, Leslie Patterson, Molly Reid, Sarah Ryan, Laura Resau and Carrie Visintainer will read their stories and essays.
Lovers, friends, and misanthropes are all welcome.
Sunday, February 14th, 7pm
The Bean Cycle/ Matter Bookstore 144 N. College Ave. Fort Collins, CO 80524 970.472.4284
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