duvetday

I’m having second thoughts

4. May 2014

about the circle frame on the video.
I dont know I’ve got two versions- one with one without and Im in desperate need to see what it would look like on the screen first.

I hate being so fickle, I hate being so attached to this project.

circle mask test, no retiming no feathering

210193kel:

duvetday 2014.
video from clips from 2014.
to be edited, slowed and a circle mask added .

das-kabinett:

Édouard Manet

Olympia

1863

smarthistory

Interesting in exploring explanations and themes within my own project- perhaps this whole project has become a study of the themes and motifs/symbolism within paintings like Manet’s ’Olympia’ through a contemporary video media?

(Source: manetandmaximilian)

Pillow talk with a bunch of artists

As Will Ryman’s The Bed comes to the Saatchi Gallery this month, we look at some of the most famous artistic beds

Bedding Down

Here’s a selection of iconic beds from art, film, history and literature to get you in the mood to doze…

So, when a woman knocks on the door of his castle seeking shelter from the rain and claims to be a princess, he decides to test this by placing a single pea beneath 20 mattresses. His theory is that only royalty would be able to feel the pea. In the morning, she complains that the bed was uncomfortable and that she couldn’t sleep, thereby proving that she was a princess.
http://mythandculture.com/princess_and_the_pea_exposed.html

The Princess and the Pea (The Real Princess) is the shortest of Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales. It’s easy to write it off as a fairy tale that reflects nineteenth century projections of “sensitivity” onto women of the upper classes. But there is more than meets the superficial eye here: The Princess and the Pea is the story of the soul’s longing for itself. It asks the simplest of questions: Who do I belong with and how will I know them?
One way of looking at fairy tales is to see each character as an aspect of ourselves:
The Prince, our questing, achieving self is lonely. It is always lonely, always set apart. Its quest is two-fold:
To find the princess who will cure his loneliness.

To recognize her.

The prince wants a princess who is “like him”, who can understand and share his experience. She must be authentic, a true self. He knows this about himself and he cannot compromise. This is no Cinderella story. There is nothing supernatural and little that is transcendant about it. The prince will not elevate a commoner to his level. He is looking for a princess, every bit his equal, yet not the same, to cure his loneliness.
The questing self looks outward. It travels the world, meeting many princesses. It projects its needs onto many and each princess displays her highest self. At his core, the prince knows that a true princess is more than appearance and pedigree. He hears a still small voice telling him that something is not quite right with each candidate. Against all reason, he heeds that voice and continues looking. He is not looking for perfection. He seeks what is essential, but unnamed.
Finally, he turns inward, returning home. The complex balance of inner tensions remains unresolved and unchanged until Nature herself intervenes with a great storm and a knock at the door. Sometimes change comes when one has given up hope and resigned oneself to one’s fate. But when the knock comes, one doesn’t ignore it, one sends someone to see who it is.
It is the Old King who sends someone to the gate. The king is removed from life’s activity. He doesn’t answer the knock at the gate. He does not go himself. He is a powerful and transcendant figure, nearly godlike. He dispatches a messenger to the gate.
Who is at the gate? The one we’ve has longed for but she wears a different face than we expected. She is drenched with water, age-old symbol of the unconscious and spirituality. She does not look the part of a princess, but she is exactly what he has been looking for. She announces herself. She is a princess.
But she cannot remain a princess in a vacuum. She must be recognized and acknowledged. If she is not recognized, we return to the surface of things, and the princess is only a needy vagrant at the door, a water rat washed in from the storm. Will she be believed, without the external trappings? Will he recognize her?
But she swears she is a princess. Are we to believe her? She must pass a test, and it is our mother-self who cares for us and looks after our best interests who sets the task. Like Psyche fulfilling Aphrodite’s tasks, the princess must prove herself: She is insulated from experience by 20 plus 20 layers and yet she feels. Her sensitivity is more than a nod to nineteenth century conceptions of the weaker sex. The real princess feels experience intensely; even the smallest pea leaves her bruised. She cries.
And so she passes the test, for only a real princess can feel so directly despite all the layers of rationality, and social layers.
And the pea? That nugget of what is essential, but so often not perceived, or worse ignored, is sent off the museum, or the bottom of the jewelry box with loveletters, ticket stubs, and other relics of memories we treasure.
Hans Christian Andersen closes the tale with “And this is a true story.” Yes, it is true, indeed it is truer than true. It is real.
XineAnn

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