intelligent agent vol. 4 no. 4
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a concordance to 'some quick time movies': michael szapowski
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A Concordance to "Some Quick Time Movies"

Michael Szpakowski

"Everything is connected"
V.I. Lenin

http://www.somedancersandmusicians.com/Some_QuickTime_Movies/index.html

Artist Statements
I mistrust the convention of the artist statement. It seems to me the artist is often the least equipped to tell us what her work is about even when this doesn't lead to either banal or totally outrageous claims.
Nevertheless, I'm always happy to answer questions about the movies. It's somehow easier to respond than to make claims, and the responses, for me, are technical -- how I made the things; background (where, when, who) -- or biographical, especially given the diaristic quality of the whole sequence. There aren't special, hidden, intentions, which I can choose to speak about or not, behind the pieces. Your guess is as good as mine.


Cherry Blossom
Are poems written on such themes as 'Going to view the cherry blossoms only to find they had scattered' or 'On being prevented from visiting the blossoms' inferior to those on 'Seeing the blossoms'? People commonly regret that the cherry blossoms scatter or that the moon sinks in the sky and this is natural; but only an exceptionally insensitive person would say, 'This branch and that branch have lost their blossoms. There is nothing worth seeing now.'
Kenko, "Essays in Idleness," translated by Donald Keene.
cherry blossom loop
early spring

Childhood
I had a fantastic childhood, enveloped both by unconditional love and a rigorous and sometimes joyless Puritanism -- the confluence of the Methodism of the industrial North of England and the Cold War -- at a time that now seems like an episode from the history of an alien planet. A childhood, too, dominated by the experience of being the son of a refugee and of his tales of how to shake off wolves in the woods, of skating down the Pripyat river, of living for six months in a hole in the ground and rescuing people from burning tanks. This made the world outside the suburb of Sheffield where I grew up seem, by turns, infinitely dangerous and infinitely inviting.

Of course it was both.

the heart and what it does
pages from 'the childrens encyclopedia'
things past
the scottish war
the scottish peace

 

Collaboration
One of the things that excite me about the digital is that it makes possible a new sort of collaboration with both other artists and with non-professionals. Digitization makes the simple juxtaposition of different kinds of work straightforward, or enables a kind of framing process that, done sympatheticall,y enriches the work of both parties.

I've used this a lot in the arts education work I do and it gets applied here in the five collabs with my daughter Anna.
the scottish war
the scottish peace

dream
poem
poem (version)
orpheus

Compression
The movies sometimes get shown offline. This is problematic as I spend so much time getting them as small as possible for delivery on the Net but occasionally inadvertently overwrite the original high quality files or make substantive changes after compressing. The Net is what they're for; it's where, to me, they feel right. If I get a chance to show them offline I often pretty much completely remake them from the original raw footage.
I used to hate that, but now it tickles me that there are these subtly different versions of things with the same title out there.


The Domestic
Of course travel is lovely and broadens the mind and often makes for interesting art (if one avoids the postcard trap) but the domestic, the backyard, the ordinary -- this seems a real test to me. I really do believe everything is connected -- the general is in some sense encoded, or at least clued, in every particular.
my secret garden
a self portrait in my father's house
shed
day and night in the garden
time machine
a tiny opera for anna
man with a pot of white chrysanthemums
fruit machine

Drawing
Like singing, drawing was one of those things that the English education system in the early 60s pretty much assumed one could or couldn't do.
I was always a "couldn't do." I'd still feel embarrassed in the extreme to present drawings I did simply as drawings, but making them part of a movie, of a process (applied drawing) somehow legitimizes them, at least for me. Making them involves intense pleasure and intense frustration in equal measure.

pentimenti
karina
kingfisher

Epiphany
I would like to think there are moments of epiphany in at least some of these pieces.


Flowers and nature in general
My parents loved flowers -- they didn't greatly care for art, but they loved flowers, they loved nature.
Their implicit aesthetic was very 19th century, very Romantic, and I imbibed it young and wholesale.
On a Saturday afternoon we'd walk the countryside at the edge of the Peak District, and ever so often we'd stop and someone would say, "Look at that, isn't it beautiful" -- a stream, a tree in blossom, a fungus, the sky, a frog, a bird. Or we'd stand and look at the A57 Road in the valley and marvel that the cars all looked like toys. Or we'd say that the rain and mist were very beautiful in their own way, too.

spring flowers of the peloponnese
cyclamen
a walk to pins del bisbe
after ovid
cherry blossom loop
early spring

budapest

Found objects and appropriation
It struck me recently that although I've been quite curmudgeonly about the innovations and methodology of a number of 20th Century artists in the line of descent from Duchamp etc., much of what I do would have been unthinkable without them. Sherman and Nauman for the performative, Warhol for repetition, just about everyone for the found object. It's just that what I do is a kind of conservative, domesticated, applied distillation, where one ceases even to be conscious of things that once represented innovation and simply reads as natural the extended language made possible by these pioneers.

teach yourself russian
teach_yourself_russian.mov
karina
found poem
art
a found dance
from a greek hotel room
pages from 'the childrens encyclopedia'
the scottish war
the scottish peace


The Frame
It seems to me that the detailed frame-by-frame control that the computer allows over present-day video makes this practice more akin to the experimental film tradition than to the kind of art video that preceded digital film. Once more, the frame becomes a natural basic unit. So one could say that it's easier to feel Brakhage as a direct influence than, say, Acconci. Although what's actually happening is maybe a kind of dialectical synthesis -- the technology allowing more inclusivity of influence and practice.

through the looking glass
portrait of the artist in his studio (2003)
metamorphosis
budapest
jo,dancing
transfiguration
portrait of the artist in his studio (2005)

 

Loop
One of the most wonderful things about Quick Time is the ability to set it to 'loop' or 'loop back and forth' -- instant installation!

portrait of the artist in his studio (2003)
cherry blossom loop
early spring

transfiguration
portrait of the artist in his studio (2005)
song

Mobile phones
I resisted buying a mobile for a long time, then I got one with a camera and snapped away.
I relish the lo-fi-ness of it (although that's going now as the machines "improve").
Although I do usually carry a camera around, the mobile definitely made for a looser, more spontaneous way of taking images for a while, and the gloriously tacky onboard image editor shaped one piece in its entirety.

transfiguration
found poem
train entering liverpool street station
the red shoes

Music
I write all the music for the pieces. Occasionally, I play and / or sing it; more often it's typed into Sibelius and then sent to a software sampler.
It's an interesting challenge, writing miniatures for miniatures. I almost never (spot the exception) match note to action -- it's more a case of creating a piece of music that has the same length as the movie, with an internal logic that is musical, then slamming them together and watching what happens.

from the prelinger archive
walk from london bridge to liverpool street 22nd october 2003
kingfisher
song

early spring
teach yourself russian
karina
smile

Naivety
I think I'm something of a naïf although I'm not really clear whether this is something one can actually know about oneself. Thinking about what it is that I do I conclude that my aesthetic was pretty much complete in my teenage years and it's this:
There are things about the world that move me in one way or the other -- I want to make work that will somehow, almost telepathically, communicate some of that feeling and its context to a spectator / listener / whatever.

I know -- it's neither big nor clever.


Performance
Some of the work is me performing. But there's a more substantial performance thread -- my daughter recites poems or tells a story, my friend and collaborator Joanne Thomson dances, walks, and smiles here and there, a bunch of Hungarian musicians descend from the sky.
Some of the young people I work with on theater projects appear -- in fact it's not so much the performance but the fact -- and the circumstances and effects -- of performing that interest me. The expressions of intense concentration on the faces of the young people in the dioscuri move me deeply.

the dioscuri
dream
smile
walk
myth
poem (version)
jump
the neon pizza man VS. Busby Berkeley
and then the devil appeared
to the poor shoemaker


Repetition
I try not to repeat myself, at least outside the pieces that employ repetition as a structural principle.

Self-portraiture
I do this more and more. Not just in this work, but in everything I do. And as I feel myself age, the compulsion to do it becomes stronger. I worry that it represents vanity or egomania but I do work hard to be honest and observant.

portrait of the artist in his studio (2005)
a self portrait with my father lukasz szpakowski
the firebird
the watcher
a self portrait in my father's house
after ovid
return to my native city


Sheffield
City of my birth and upbringing. It haunts my dreams when I'm away and fills me with amazement and melancholy when I'm there.
return to my native city
shalesmoor
on campo lane
time machine
shed

Software
Photoshop, Debabelizer, Director, Premiere, Sibelius, Kontakt, Sound Forge, and, of course, the wonderful Quick Time Pro.

 

Some Quick Time Movies
I started making these in mid-2003 and since then have made nearly 70. I think the sequence will go on as long as I do.


Song
I never thought I could sing when I was a kid; then, for much of my life as a musician, I had to -- to illustrate a point here; to show someone how to interpret a passage, there. I'm never going to have a great voice but it does; and I like the making-myself-vulnerable that comes with singing in these pieces -- again, I can't imagine having decided to do this without Nauman or Sherman.

a tiny opera for anna
song
This Is Just To Say
orpheus
fragment

Time Travel
You can do it of course, and travel sideways, too, through the things that could have been and never were.
time machine
myth
return to my native city
pages from 'the childrens encyclopedia'
dream
a self portrait in my father's house


Trains
I love trains.
train entering liverpool street station
triptych
walk from london bridge to liverpool street 22nd october 2003

Unity
One more reason for the decision to present the movies principally on the Net is that, to me, they seem to form, quite naturally, a unity there; but a unity in which the thematic and technical links between them can be explored subtly and gently -- offline pretty much necessitates an ordering, which highlights this or that theme and its development or otherwise. The current listing on the index page is broadly by date of making -- this underlines the diaristic qualities of the collection. Each new addition, it seems to me at least, minutely alters the overall feel of the whole. New connections between pieces arise, old ones shift a little.

My thanks to Martha Deed, Rosemary Drescher, Millie Niss, Edward Picot and Robert Roth for their helpful comments and suggestions.