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Showing posts with label John Manning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John Manning. Show all posts

Monday, May 9, 2011

unorthodox sample use / Sweden+Brazil

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Wish I could pick out more samples from The Field, but I've only been able to discern a couple on account of how chopped-up they turn out after Axel Willner subjects them to a -finally- cathartic cut-and-paste regiment.

Anyway, here's the cut:



From 6:40-7:10 or so you should be able to hear:



Yes, Aquarela do Brasil by Ary Barroso. I have included the Geoff Muldaur version here, because it is creepy - and pretty much the only piece of music used in Terry Gilliam's Brazil (1985) - one of my favorite films. 0:05-0:10 is the clearest place you can hear The Field totally rip off the riff and make it into something equally good. 


As an aside, The Field is techno music that I think nearly everyone could enjoy.  Listen to it while drawing.


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Saturday, February 19, 2011

in the 1800's

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why is classical music so dramatic, especially Tchaikovsky?

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to make it memorable. without an internet stream or .mp3 or CD or cassette or record or piano roll all i have is my memory of the performance.

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dramatic music is easier to remember than subtle music.

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i would die if i could not listen to music at my convenience. i would die inside.

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now it sounds funny, now the most dramatic and beautiful and cathartic pieces are used to buttress romantic comedies and just comedies and men slipping on bananas and items falling in slow motion that are valuable and will cause a major disruption in the plot if that vase breaks.

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now they sound funny, but then i couldn't make my life into a film like i can with earbuds and pot and depression caused by other things.

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please, don't think of Monty Python, think of how actually the first couple minutes remind you of being away for so long, of being away for so long from the one you love and being alone, being alone for so long away from everyone you love.

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Tuesday, August 24, 2010

spirit trappings

year to year.




Tuesday, August 10, 2010

post about disorder.

Thisis a GIF Illustrating a woman ambivalent about nourishing herself from the ample foodsouce in the BKGRND. She make s-s-sure she looks thin enough to eat - boy does that sound wrong - then sits back down, hungry, but with the ability to wear less clothes than before. She feels great about it.

create avatar


Here is a truth not exuding any beauty because she just loves imagined competition with flowers and others. But hey who can get more honest than this truth. A dead bird rots a dead flower people press in books.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

two northamerican panoramas.



















outside or inside: one feels him

wave. waves.


she or he. she or one. one or one. one or none.
.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Al, Free of Re-: a Sponse

(Considering that pre contains mostly re, it does Work to Create a linear fantasy.)

***

oh, if films were as Plays,
the spectator would never
Tire of film's fixed Position.
the stage Petitions for Vision
afresh; film Treats a
Lapse between Presentations
as non-existent!

i Place this thought in space
not Marked with Wire
or Cord; space Stored in hearts
hardened to obtain:

again, lover.
once more, Volver.
as in the past we
Possess each other
but now we Mind our
Cycles, they hover
like Births Pressed
back for Cover.

you're my Ally, brother.
Construct your fantasy
of Verb and Fuel
your Quest, your Mission
with my contrast, with my 
Cognition.




Eadweard Muybridge
Movement of the hand, drawing a circle
1887

Monday, January 18, 2010

Toiling the Earth is a Woman's Task

note: incorporation of archaic pronouns resultant of reading John Donne all week. That is it.


When lover's bested distance shutters blind eyes 'nother blink,
When two share one identity, two fuel or feud a link,
'twixt real and not, my lover's prose, my lover's nose,
delights at garden's brink,
where flowers fall to soil and fail to boil impassioned drink.

I love you lover, but what extent pretends communion's peace?
Hearts doth bear the weight they share with crippled past's deceased.
Ease my task, I pray thee ask what cost thy cost to me.
When cost is lost to vision
thy vision is released:

Deleted loves collapsed three-fold on swift-delivered lust,
A jealous thought consumes the plot of twice-devoted trust,
One mistress tends the lilies, one weeds the seeds she's sown,
Yet assign to me the duty,
of admiring what they've grown.