Maybe the only thing each of us can see is our own shadow.
Carl Jung called this his shadow work. He said we never see others. Instead we see only aspects of ourselves that fall over them. Shadows. Projections. Our associations.
The same way old painters would sit in a tiny dark room and trace the image of what stood outside a tiny window, in the bright sunlight.
The camera obscura.
Not the exact image, but everything reversed or upside down.
Distorted by the mirror or the lens it comes through. Our limited personal perception. Our tiny body of experience. Our half-assed education.
How the viewer controls the view. How the artist is dead. We see what we want. We see how we want. We only see ourselves. All the artist can do is give us something to look at.
from ‘Diary’, Chuck Palahniuk
a vonaton még nem volt semmi baj.>
Hawk, 22 July, 1891.
Sven Jonson (Swedish, 1902-1981), Blå skymning [Blue dusk], 1954. Oil on canvas, 24 x 33 cm.
Girls skating in the seventies.
Including Laura Thornhill, (mostly), Kim Cespedes, Robin Logan, Ellen-Oneal,
Short shorts, long hair & fancy footwork.
Takeda Fumiko, Japan
Life/Kyanq, Artavazd Peleshian,1993
Eisenstein’s montage was linear, like a chain. Distance montage creates a magnetic field around the film. It’s like when a light is turned on and light is generated around the lamp. In distance montage when the two ends are excited, the whole thing glows. Sometimes I don’t call my method “montage.” I’m involved in a process of creating unity. In a sense I’ve eliminated montage: by creating the film through montage, I have destroyed montage. In the totality, in the wholeness of one of my films, there is no montage, no collision, so as a result montage has been destroyed. In Eisenstein every element means something. For me the individual fragments don’t mean anything anymore. Only the whole film has the meaning.
[…] In fact, distance montage is much more complicated. Orbits are created. Sound and image cross each other, intersect each other, switch, change territories. The sound enters the territory of the picture and the image enters the territory of the sound. You start to see the sound, and you hear the picture. Physically, a particular image or sound may no longer be perceived, but because of your memory and distance montage, it is still there.
Hungarian poster for THE AMPHIBIAN MAN (Vladimir Chebotaryov & Gennadi Kazansky, USSR, 1962), artist: Sándor Benko (1922-2007).