“Mantle,” by Angelina Gualdoni. 2012. 

“Mantle,” by Angelina Gualdoni. 2012. 

Gorgeous graphite and pastel drawing by Odilon Redon — I’ve never seen anything like this from this guy. 

Gorgeous graphite and pastel drawing by Odilon Redon — I’ve never seen anything like this from this guy. 

One of Joseph Cornell’s gorgeous little worlds. 
Remember guys — our final is this Thursday (tomorrow) from 5:30-7:30. Study hard and finish strong! Thanks you for a great class!

One of Joseph Cornell’s gorgeous little worlds. 

Remember guys — our final is this Thursday (tomorrow) from 5:30-7:30. Study hard and finish strong! Thanks you for a great class!

The figure in context! Dazzle by Mamma Andersson. Image courtesy Galleri Magnus Karlsson.
Karin Mamma Andersson is one of my favorites - her command of light, color and atmosphere has only gone from good to great over the years. Good stuff. 

The figure in context! Dazzle by Mamma Andersson. Image courtesy Galleri Magnus Karlsson.

Karin Mamma Andersson is one of my favorites - her command of light, color and atmosphere has only gone from good to great over the years. Good stuff. 

It goes without saying, but Dogtooth is a unique film. Odds are, many of you haven’t seen a film like it. 
When we discussed the development and history of filmmaking in class, part of our discussion included the addicting effect of film and film techniques to create a believable environment of light, sound, fictional characters and controlled storytelling. Indeed, we can emerge from a movie that takes place exclusively at night, and step blinking into the afternoon, having completely forgotten what time of day it was, or where we are in the world. 
Film has the powerful effect of creating a world that we as viewers can easily slip into, for 100 minute increments at a time. What’s impressive about films like Dogtooth is how thoroughly foreign that world can be from our own, and how still we are completely drawn into it. What I’d like for you to consider for your journal this week is how the director Yorgos Lanthimos is able to do exactly this in Dogtooth. 
Dogtooth works on many levels — it is a satire, but only sporadically funny (and then only just barely). It is a horror film, but devoid of any of the tropes of horror. It is suspenseful, in that we are waiting for something to happen, but we are uncertain of what, and when, and why. Ultimately, it’s a movie that’s hard to make up one’s mind about, which is precisely what makes it so interesting. 
For your journal this week, discuss what it is you think makes this film work the way that it does. Consider the elements of film: the shots, the cuts, the sound, the actors, the dialogue, the plot, the story. How is it that these elements come together or don’t come together to create a movie that is this deeply strange? In your opinion, is the film successful in communicating something to the viewer, and what is that something? Did you enjoy the film, why, or why not? As always, I’m looking for thoughtful, articulate writing that says what you need to say, as opposed to a prescribed number of paragraphs that are full of filler. Think hard about this one — film is an art form we ALL have some kind of experience with — therefore, I’m looking for your personal insights into the matter. 
I’ll see you in class Tuesday!

It goes without saying, but Dogtooth is a unique film. Odds are, many of you haven’t seen a film like it. 

When we discussed the development and history of filmmaking in class, part of our discussion included the addicting effect of film and film techniques to create a believable environment of light, sound, fictional characters and controlled storytelling. Indeed, we can emerge from a movie that takes place exclusively at night, and step blinking into the afternoon, having completely forgotten what time of day it was, or where we are in the world. 

Film has the powerful effect of creating a world that we as viewers can easily slip into, for 100 minute increments at a time. What’s impressive about films like Dogtooth is how thoroughly foreign that world can be from our own, and how still we are completely drawn into it. What I’d like for you to consider for your journal this week is how the director Yorgos Lanthimos is able to do exactly this in Dogtooth

Dogtooth works on many levels — it is a satire, but only sporadically funny (and then only just barely). It is a horror film, but devoid of any of the tropes of horror. It is suspenseful, in that we are waiting for something to happen, but we are uncertain of what, and when, and why. Ultimately, it’s a movie that’s hard to make up one’s mind about, which is precisely what makes it so interesting. 

For your journal this week, discuss what it is you think makes this film work the way that it does. Consider the elements of film: the shots, the cuts, the sound, the actors, the dialogue, the plot, the story. How is it that these elements come together or don’t come together to create a movie that is this deeply strange? In your opinion, is the film successful in communicating something to the viewer, and what is that something? Did you enjoy the film, why, or why not? As always, I’m looking for thoughtful, articulate writing that says what you need to say, as opposed to a prescribed number of paragraphs that are full of filler. Think hard about this one — film is an art form we ALL have some kind of experience with — therefore, I’m looking for your personal insights into the matter. 

I’ll see you in class Tuesday!

Sleeper, by Anthony Wislar, who is a good friend of mine. Oil on panel with mylar overlay.  
Anthony gave this to us last night as a present, I’m so stoked!

Sleeper, by Anthony Wislar, who is a good friend of mine. Oil on panel with mylar overlay.  

Anthony gave this to us last night as a present, I’m so stoked!

Lucian Frued, Startled Man. Graphite on paper,1948. 

Lucian Frued, Startled Man. Graphite on paper,1948. 

Chloe Piene, whose drawings walk a tight line between blind and sighted. 

Chloe Piene, whose drawings walk a tight line between blind and sighted. 

Above, a candid photograph of the iconic face of Che Guevera. 
That photos can mislead should come as no surprise. That they almost always do should give us pause. How many of us have experienced the disjunction between the familiarity we feel with a person, place, or object that we’ve experienced via a photograph, and then the actual experience of that person, place or object in real life? In other words, have you ever been surprised when you encountered something in real life that you felt you already understood through the medium of photography?
Think hard about this — when has this happened to you (inevitably it must have at some point). Increasingly, the average person is able to construct an identity through social media that may or may not be indicative of who they are in reality - have you ever met someone through the internet, and then met them in person, and experienced a strangeness in that meeting? 
What about physical locations — have you ever visited a site or country that did not match up with your expectations of it? Or a landscape that served as the background for an important historical event, that was completely underwhelming in person?
The relationship between perception, memory, and photography is immensely complicated, and to grossly understate the obvious: photographs can completely shape or perceptions of reality. For your journal this week, I’d like for you to consider a moment when you experienced something through photography (or television, of film) and then experienced it in real life. Consider both sides of the coin — how were they different? How were they similar? As usual, I’m looking for articulate, thoughtful prose - but really think about this. It’s a subject that i think each of you can bring a unique impression towards. 
See you in class. 

Above, a candid photograph of the iconic face of Che Guevera. 

That photos can mislead should come as no surprise. That they almost always do should give us pause. How many of us have experienced the disjunction between the familiarity we feel with a person, place, or object that we’ve experienced via a photograph, and then the actual experience of that person, place or object in real life? In other words, have you ever been surprised when you encountered something in real life that you felt you already understood through the medium of photography?

Think hard about this — when has this happened to you (inevitably it must have at some point). Increasingly, the average person is able to construct an identity through social media that may or may not be indicative of who they are in reality - have you ever met someone through the internet, and then met them in person, and experienced a strangeness in that meeting? 

What about physical locations — have you ever visited a site or country that did not match up with your expectations of it? Or a landscape that served as the background for an important historical event, that was completely underwhelming in person?

The relationship between perception, memory, and photography is immensely complicated, and to grossly understate the obvious: photographs can completely shape or perceptions of reality. For your journal this week, I’d like for you to consider a moment when you experienced something through photography (or television, of film) and then experienced it in real life. Consider both sides of the coin — how were they different? How were they similar? As usual, I’m looking for articulate, thoughtful prose - but really think about this. It’s a subject that i think each of you can bring a unique impression towards. 

See you in class. 

A young Truman Capote muggin’ for the camera. 

A young Truman Capote muggin’ for the camera.