Saturday, December 8, 2012

drive home

Drive Home from Marilee Spencer on Vimeo.

I enjoy static moments on the radio
the buzzing black and white consuming each other
or where channels overlap
as cacophonies of split consciousness
And it never feels wrong. Because
sound is earthly,
music is human.
And in the place not too far away, and to the very end,
it’s all silent.

I made this video a year ago. And I didn't like it.  I still have qualms about it, but watching it again I realize how letting go of a typical form of video expression and simply regurgitating what came to mind captured so much of me at that moment. Maybe it's something no one else can understand; when it was screened in class for viewing, I sat there feeling like I was presenting something not meant to be presented. It was of a crude technique. It was long, seemingly senseless and repetitive. It felt too personal. It had my writing in it (though I mildly impersonalized it with computer type). Out came this version of me I didn't fully understand.

So I feel now I have to look back and credit it, especially since the general feeling it gives me still rings true.
This was a reflection of the sort of 'mindless knowingness' that takes over me when I commute. By putting a camera at the back of my car, I captured one of the countless drives I perform to and from school. Notably at my favorite time of day. The audio in this video is some unique channel of radio I found while I was driving.
And this is something I've always loved [possibly stemming from the numerous family road trips I went on as a child]: Something so elementary as listening to music in a car creates moments for me that are perfect. Moments where the motion of the outside world are commented on by audio compositions; inside a vehicle, it's like the way passing streetlights match with a pulsing buildup, the way a person sits down at a bus stop with some breathing sigh of melody, the way sequential signs on buildings or lines on pavement drum in the eye.

With the inside sound and outside visuals, I begin to exist in a centering middle space where I welcome audiovisual unpredictability in order to experience some new progression of thought. This sort of turning inwards while still being highly influenced by the 'external' is both a coping with mediocrity and avenue to higher presence.

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