I'm gathering musics to record my very own selection of songs from the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack. It's going to follow an obvious order, beggining with the opening theme (Thank!), then going through a number of light-hearted little tunes like Piano Bar, Waltz for Zizi, the comical Mushroom Samba, The Egg and I and finally taking a more serious tone with Memories and other sad songs. I'll end with a combination of The real folk blues, ending theme for every episode; followed by See you space cowboy, supposed to be a sequel to Folk Blues that only plays in the last episode and finally Blue, the final song at the end of the final episode. A heart-wrenching combination, just like the ending of the series.
Cowboy Bebop, Evangelion, Makai Tensho...
I really like the ones that end up in such tragedy. In the tradition of the old operas, everyone dies. Those tragic endings stay in my head for weeks, I keep remembering the sadness, the gloomy desperation I feel when those credits roll. And it's quite hard for a cartoon to strike so deep in someone like me.
Thank God for reruns! ;P
domingo, setembro 29, 2002
sábado, setembro 28, 2002
Is it just my impression or are there two versions of Ridley Scott's Blade Runner???
We watched the movie in one of our classes at the university. It went OK up to the ending scene. In this version, after Deckard has that showdown with Roy (I always thought that thing with the dove was horribly cliché...), Gaff (the origami guy) shows up and tells him he did a "man's job" or something like that. After that, a sequence shows Deckard picking up Rachel at his place and running away. As they head for the elevator, Rachel knocks over an origami unicorn, a clear sign that Gaff knew of Deckard's dreams and memories, just like Deckard knew of Rachel's. This and the whole "man's job" thing are clues that Deckard might in fact be a replicant as well. The movie ends with a grim vision that they don't have much time left to live, since replicants have a short life span (four years). In the words of Gaff: It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?. I kinda liked this tragic ending. It seems to be way better than another ending I vaguely remember from when I watched the movie as a kid. I remember no clues of Deckard being a replicant (but then again, I was too young to notice these things...) and I remember a scene in which someone tells him, as he is running away with Rachel, that she is a different kind of replicant, not only capable of avoiding detection throught the tests longer, but with a longer life span. But I'm getting confused here... Does anyone else know if there are two endings for this movie?
We watched the movie in one of our classes at the university. It went OK up to the ending scene. In this version, after Deckard has that showdown with Roy (I always thought that thing with the dove was horribly cliché...), Gaff (the origami guy) shows up and tells him he did a "man's job" or something like that. After that, a sequence shows Deckard picking up Rachel at his place and running away. As they head for the elevator, Rachel knocks over an origami unicorn, a clear sign that Gaff knew of Deckard's dreams and memories, just like Deckard knew of Rachel's. This and the whole "man's job" thing are clues that Deckard might in fact be a replicant as well. The movie ends with a grim vision that they don't have much time left to live, since replicants have a short life span (four years). In the words of Gaff: It's too bad she won't live. But then again, who does?. I kinda liked this tragic ending. It seems to be way better than another ending I vaguely remember from when I watched the movie as a kid. I remember no clues of Deckard being a replicant (but then again, I was too young to notice these things...) and I remember a scene in which someone tells him, as he is running away with Rachel, that she is a different kind of replicant, not only capable of avoiding detection throught the tests longer, but with a longer life span. But I'm getting confused here... Does anyone else know if there are two endings for this movie?
quinta-feira, setembro 26, 2002
More movie tips:
If you're the kind that likes deep stuff, you ought to like Grand Canyon, starring Kevin Kline, Steve Martin and Danny Glover (quite a cast, in my opinion...). It deals a lot with the dicotomy of rich and poor. On one end you have Kline's family, led by a lawyer. This family's problems are those of most wealthy families: middle-age crisis, marital crisis, marital infidelity. On the other end, Glover's family fo african-americans. Actually, Glover is the uncle in the family. He takes care of his sister's family (no mention to what happened to the father...). Their problems are quite different: violence in the neighborhood, kids joining gangs and not expecting to live over 25, unnemployment, respect only at gun-point. These families apparently have nothing to do with each other. Until the day Kline's car dies on him in the middle of a rough neighborhood. Glover drives the tow truck that comes to get him in a nick of time, as a gang beggins to harass the lawyer. Only as time progresses will they understand that they can both help each other.
I won't lie to you: it is a trudging, slow movie. You're presented with situations in which you'd expect explicit violence (Kline almost gets mugged in the first ten minutes of the movie...), but in the end, either nothing happens and the person is saved, or violence is left as something implicit, blood stains and evidence. There are two strong scenes of violence. In the first, Steve Martin, a friend of Kline's and a movie producer, gets shot in the leg for his Rolex. It's one of the most vivid scenes of organic trauma I've seen, but I'm not going to write down all the gross details. In the other, a gang drives by Glover's sister's home and shoots at the entire house. The impact in these scenes comes from the fact that violence isn't banalized in this movie. When it happens and you see it, it hits you with the force of experienced, real-life violence.
Martin's appearence seems to be merely metalinguistic. A way of the actual producer to talk about producing. In a way, he justifies the violence seldom seen in the movie by saying that it exists, it's out there. Not to show it would be to deny the truth, to lie.
The movie has other interesting side-stories, like Kline's son, who's growing up and leaving the parents' influence, driving his mother into a middle-age crisis. Her only solace is a deserted baby she finds, and Kline relucts in adopting. Or Kline's secretary, who has an implied affair with the boss, a one night thing, and then goes nuts when he decides not to go through with anything, to be a good husband. The way infidelity is just hinted, not actually shown is marvelous. He dreams with her and you're not exactly sure if it was real. Dream sequences are more food for thought. Oniric reason in a very nice standard.
The soundtrack is soft, very, very nice! I'll be searching for it on the net.
In the end, the movie deals with interference. Victories and losses. Glover speaks of how the Grand Canyon changed his life. Kline explains how a girl on the street saved him and he never got to thank her enough. And when he is saved by Glover, he takes the chance to do it right this time. Kline's wife saves the baby just as the baby saves her. Kline's secretary is saved by a police officer on the same rough neighborhood and a hint of romance is left in the air. She quits her job, which could be considered a loss, but the right thing to do. Glover's nephew is a loss, joining gangs and the stream of violence. On the overall, it speaks about how each of us can make a difference in someone else's life and even questions at times if we should make that difference. As Glover says, sometimes people's lives have a purpose, no matter how bad they are.
On another note, it also deals with the way the cities are becoming more violent, life more unbearable and the future grimmer. And we are getting used to it!! There is hope: if we could just help each other, instead of despising different social classes.
If you're the kind that likes deep stuff, you ought to like Grand Canyon, starring Kevin Kline, Steve Martin and Danny Glover (quite a cast, in my opinion...). It deals a lot with the dicotomy of rich and poor. On one end you have Kline's family, led by a lawyer. This family's problems are those of most wealthy families: middle-age crisis, marital crisis, marital infidelity. On the other end, Glover's family fo african-americans. Actually, Glover is the uncle in the family. He takes care of his sister's family (no mention to what happened to the father...). Their problems are quite different: violence in the neighborhood, kids joining gangs and not expecting to live over 25, unnemployment, respect only at gun-point. These families apparently have nothing to do with each other. Until the day Kline's car dies on him in the middle of a rough neighborhood. Glover drives the tow truck that comes to get him in a nick of time, as a gang beggins to harass the lawyer. Only as time progresses will they understand that they can both help each other.
I won't lie to you: it is a trudging, slow movie. You're presented with situations in which you'd expect explicit violence (Kline almost gets mugged in the first ten minutes of the movie...), but in the end, either nothing happens and the person is saved, or violence is left as something implicit, blood stains and evidence. There are two strong scenes of violence. In the first, Steve Martin, a friend of Kline's and a movie producer, gets shot in the leg for his Rolex. It's one of the most vivid scenes of organic trauma I've seen, but I'm not going to write down all the gross details. In the other, a gang drives by Glover's sister's home and shoots at the entire house. The impact in these scenes comes from the fact that violence isn't banalized in this movie. When it happens and you see it, it hits you with the force of experienced, real-life violence.
Martin's appearence seems to be merely metalinguistic. A way of the actual producer to talk about producing. In a way, he justifies the violence seldom seen in the movie by saying that it exists, it's out there. Not to show it would be to deny the truth, to lie.
The movie has other interesting side-stories, like Kline's son, who's growing up and leaving the parents' influence, driving his mother into a middle-age crisis. Her only solace is a deserted baby she finds, and Kline relucts in adopting. Or Kline's secretary, who has an implied affair with the boss, a one night thing, and then goes nuts when he decides not to go through with anything, to be a good husband. The way infidelity is just hinted, not actually shown is marvelous. He dreams with her and you're not exactly sure if it was real. Dream sequences are more food for thought. Oniric reason in a very nice standard.
The soundtrack is soft, very, very nice! I'll be searching for it on the net.
In the end, the movie deals with interference. Victories and losses. Glover speaks of how the Grand Canyon changed his life. Kline explains how a girl on the street saved him and he never got to thank her enough. And when he is saved by Glover, he takes the chance to do it right this time. Kline's wife saves the baby just as the baby saves her. Kline's secretary is saved by a police officer on the same rough neighborhood and a hint of romance is left in the air. She quits her job, which could be considered a loss, but the right thing to do. Glover's nephew is a loss, joining gangs and the stream of violence. On the overall, it speaks about how each of us can make a difference in someone else's life and even questions at times if we should make that difference. As Glover says, sometimes people's lives have a purpose, no matter how bad they are.
On another note, it also deals with the way the cities are becoming more violent, life more unbearable and the future grimmer. And we are getting used to it!! There is hope: if we could just help each other, instead of despising different social classes.
quarta-feira, setembro 25, 2002
And so, I taught my first drawing class, thanks to my buddy Alex!! See, he studies biology at the same university I study advertising. And they are having this event at biology with little workshops and all. They have drawing classes for biologists so they can draw schematics of their samples and subjects. And when last year's teacher couldn't make it, they called me!
It was quite nice. The first moment made us all rather unneasy. They were all around my age. And it' strange to have a teacher who's your age, perhaps even younger. But then after a while we all got along. I respected them as students, and they respected me as a teacher, asking their doubts and listening to what I had to say. We started off modeling in clay. Strange for a drawing class, huh? I just wanted to convey the idea of thinking about your drawing in terms of a tridimentional thing. You are drawing in 2D, but your object is invariably 3D. And so on and so forth.
This whole drawing class thing was an idea I had a while back. Observing the drawing classes we had at the art course, I could understand everyone's main difficulties in understanding the thought process of drawing. And I'm structuring a course to try and go around these difficulties. Of course, the whole thing can't be taught in one class, and I had to choose what would I teach these biologists and make it really concise. I taught them basic notions of volume and proportion and most of all, I taught them to be PATIENT! Most people can't draw not because of poor hand-eye coordination, but because they lack the patience to pay attention to all the details. Drawings are mere lines, curves and dots. You just have to be patient enough to mimic them.
I finished the class with that old cliché: I do not believe in people who are "gifted". I believe in people who are interested and in practice. Lots of it..
I'll teach another class to a second group this friday. And after that, I think I'll be ready to think about teaching my gang and whoever is interested!
It was quite nice. The first moment made us all rather unneasy. They were all around my age. And it' strange to have a teacher who's your age, perhaps even younger. But then after a while we all got along. I respected them as students, and they respected me as a teacher, asking their doubts and listening to what I had to say. We started off modeling in clay. Strange for a drawing class, huh? I just wanted to convey the idea of thinking about your drawing in terms of a tridimentional thing. You are drawing in 2D, but your object is invariably 3D. And so on and so forth.
This whole drawing class thing was an idea I had a while back. Observing the drawing classes we had at the art course, I could understand everyone's main difficulties in understanding the thought process of drawing. And I'm structuring a course to try and go around these difficulties. Of course, the whole thing can't be taught in one class, and I had to choose what would I teach these biologists and make it really concise. I taught them basic notions of volume and proportion and most of all, I taught them to be PATIENT! Most people can't draw not because of poor hand-eye coordination, but because they lack the patience to pay attention to all the details. Drawings are mere lines, curves and dots. You just have to be patient enough to mimic them.
I finished the class with that old cliché: I do not believe in people who are "gifted". I believe in people who are interested and in practice. Lots of it..
I'll teach another class to a second group this friday. And after that, I think I'll be ready to think about teaching my gang and whoever is interested!
domingo, setembro 22, 2002
Bowling yesterday... Three rounds. My opponents: Alex, Buffy and General Anarchy (New entry on the Enciclopaedia!! Check it out at 7/29/2002). I was placed third out of four players on the first round. But I beat the crap out of everyone on the second and was placed first! Third round was a hell of a fight. But I was placed first again!! Itch your heart out, Alex!
quarta-feira, setembro 18, 2002
I presented Guilt yesterday. Again.
Guilt is a monologue I did in the first year at the art course. A friend of mine had recorded a tape with songs from Castlevania for Playstation. I'm a big fan of the entire series: it goes back to when I was a kid and probably had some part in my gothic obssession for vampires. Anyway, I wrote the monologue so it would fit into the tracks he recorded for me. The songs had all sort of noises that made great stage sounds throughout the monologue. The story was quite simple and even cliché. But the way it fit into the songs and the emotional depth at the end of it, when the narator-vampire speaks about the way he killed the girl and felt sorry for it, really captures the crowd and allows my presence to grow on stage. The scenery is so much fun! In the original presentation, all I had was a table, a chair, a big book in which I wrote with a quill and a candle. When the last sentence was said, I dipped the wick of the candle, putting it out and giving a nice fade-out effect to the whole thing. And it also saved me the worries with stage lighting.
This monologue supposedly ends my vampire era. So it has some ritualistic meaning to me. Throughout four songs, the character undergoes the vampire's vision of the world, the night-life, the kill and finally the guilt. Four intrinsecate moments of the vampire. This ritual does not mean I'll never deal with vampires again. What I've learned and researched stays with me forever. It has tainted me irreversibly. This ritual only marks the end of the obssession.
Last year I tried to present it in the student expo at the university. I experimented putting a second candle on the other side of the stage so as to open up the viewer's field of view in which I would move. But I got it all wrong. I was so woried because my parents didn't show up that I missed lines and timing. I just couldn't focus. After that fiasco, I just felt as if I'd never do that monologue again.
But this year, on the same expo, I decided to right my wrong. The addition of a third candle on the front of the stage gave depth to the field of view. I added a last section to the monologue for improvising that went great, although now that I think about it, turned out to be rather long. Special regards to the use of the third candle as a simbolic stage prop when the vampire mentioned the girl he had killed. And I didn't bother to envite the parents. I knew they wouldn't make it and I'd just be worried about it again. I did envite a load of people that didn't show up. But this time I decided to focus on the presentation and let the rest go.
It was wonderful. I just have to get the timing for putting out the candles correctly. It narrows the field of view back to the table 'till the final candle goes out. I just have to figure out in which part of the ending I'll put them out.
Yep... This isn't the last time I'll do this.
Guilt is a monologue I did in the first year at the art course. A friend of mine had recorded a tape with songs from Castlevania for Playstation. I'm a big fan of the entire series: it goes back to when I was a kid and probably had some part in my gothic obssession for vampires. Anyway, I wrote the monologue so it would fit into the tracks he recorded for me. The songs had all sort of noises that made great stage sounds throughout the monologue. The story was quite simple and even cliché. But the way it fit into the songs and the emotional depth at the end of it, when the narator-vampire speaks about the way he killed the girl and felt sorry for it, really captures the crowd and allows my presence to grow on stage. The scenery is so much fun! In the original presentation, all I had was a table, a chair, a big book in which I wrote with a quill and a candle. When the last sentence was said, I dipped the wick of the candle, putting it out and giving a nice fade-out effect to the whole thing. And it also saved me the worries with stage lighting.
This monologue supposedly ends my vampire era. So it has some ritualistic meaning to me. Throughout four songs, the character undergoes the vampire's vision of the world, the night-life, the kill and finally the guilt. Four intrinsecate moments of the vampire. This ritual does not mean I'll never deal with vampires again. What I've learned and researched stays with me forever. It has tainted me irreversibly. This ritual only marks the end of the obssession.
Last year I tried to present it in the student expo at the university. I experimented putting a second candle on the other side of the stage so as to open up the viewer's field of view in which I would move. But I got it all wrong. I was so woried because my parents didn't show up that I missed lines and timing. I just couldn't focus. After that fiasco, I just felt as if I'd never do that monologue again.
But this year, on the same expo, I decided to right my wrong. The addition of a third candle on the front of the stage gave depth to the field of view. I added a last section to the monologue for improvising that went great, although now that I think about it, turned out to be rather long. Special regards to the use of the third candle as a simbolic stage prop when the vampire mentioned the girl he had killed. And I didn't bother to envite the parents. I knew they wouldn't make it and I'd just be worried about it again. I did envite a load of people that didn't show up. But this time I decided to focus on the presentation and let the rest go.
It was wonderful. I just have to get the timing for putting out the candles correctly. It narrows the field of view back to the table 'till the final candle goes out. I just have to figure out in which part of the ending I'll put them out.
Yep... This isn't the last time I'll do this.
Today I went photographing for more ghosts (I'm trying to make them in colour this time!!). While I was waiting for some suited man talking on a cellphone to walk by, a guy came up to me and asked me if I was a professional photographer. In the heat of the moment and still on the lookout for suited men with cell phones, I told him I knew a bit about photography, but I was no professional. And then it hit me that I could perhaps call myself a professional photographer.
What makes someone a professional? I'd say the adequate training course and ethical aproach. In that case, I guess I could call myself a professional photographer. I spent a year studying photography in the art course. From inner workings of a camera to the history of photography. I have no certificate because I still haven't graduated from the art course. But at least I can say that I've seen all they can teach me of photography.
What makes someone a professional? I'd say the adequate training course and ethical aproach. In that case, I guess I could call myself a professional photographer. I spent a year studying photography in the art course. From inner workings of a camera to the history of photography. I have no certificate because I still haven't graduated from the art course. But at least I can say that I've seen all they can teach me of photography.
My electronic diary, often referred to as my secretary, passed away this monday. I was taking notes about an errand and it simply went mad and began jumping to other functions until finally it shut down and would refuse to be turned on. As a result, all of you who know me might expect a little chaos in dealing with me for the next weeks. I lost all my phone numbers, my reminders about errands, my friends' birthdates... Everything. Even my list of movies I wanted to watch. Yep... And I was beggining to think that I could trust technology...
segunda-feira, setembro 16, 2002
My Lioness:
Writting this has proven to be a big challenge. I barely know what to tell you, how to tell you anything. Our blogs have been a great means of communication ever since they started and still, ever since this whole story began, I have been censoring my posts. You noticed how no posts on Sati were written anymore. And seldom did any post about us get published. I just thought writting about all this was doing us no good.
I'm probably going to write a load of things you'll never believe, but I have to get this out.
In the past few months ever since we travelled toghether, my notions about you had changed. I began to like you very much. Unfortunately, there is this story left unfinished. So many things that I was supposed to live with her and never did. Please try to understand me: I'm chasing a dream. I know it probably won't last long, but I had to give it one last try. I wouldn't forgive myself if I lost this chance. And I just don't think it would be fair to neither of us if I would carry out our relationship with her on my head. I warned you of this when we first met. I warned you I was in love with someone else when we took that stroll around the university.
I do not want Makel anymore. I have lived all I had to live with her and convinced myself of it. I have no further reasons to desire her anymore. I intend to do the same with Sati: figure out wether we can get along or if we are truly incompatible now that we have both learned to communicate. Our former relationship was meaningless.
Just understand this: I have to see this through. I won't be at peace with myself untill I do.
I'm crying in the keyboard here and making a complete ass out of myself... Why can't I be just another one of your friends? Let's meet and talk about this. We need to straighten things out.
Writting this has proven to be a big challenge. I barely know what to tell you, how to tell you anything. Our blogs have been a great means of communication ever since they started and still, ever since this whole story began, I have been censoring my posts. You noticed how no posts on Sati were written anymore. And seldom did any post about us get published. I just thought writting about all this was doing us no good.
I'm probably going to write a load of things you'll never believe, but I have to get this out.
In the past few months ever since we travelled toghether, my notions about you had changed. I began to like you very much. Unfortunately, there is this story left unfinished. So many things that I was supposed to live with her and never did. Please try to understand me: I'm chasing a dream. I know it probably won't last long, but I had to give it one last try. I wouldn't forgive myself if I lost this chance. And I just don't think it would be fair to neither of us if I would carry out our relationship with her on my head. I warned you of this when we first met. I warned you I was in love with someone else when we took that stroll around the university.
I do not want Makel anymore. I have lived all I had to live with her and convinced myself of it. I have no further reasons to desire her anymore. I intend to do the same with Sati: figure out wether we can get along or if we are truly incompatible now that we have both learned to communicate. Our former relationship was meaningless.
Just understand this: I have to see this through. I won't be at peace with myself untill I do.
I'm crying in the keyboard here and making a complete ass out of myself... Why can't I be just another one of your friends? Let's meet and talk about this. We need to straighten things out.
sexta-feira, setembro 13, 2002
A few months ago I came upon this picture in a book while I was searching stuff on De Chirico for a seminar for the art course. And it gripped me somehow. To me, it felt like an instant taken from a dream (duh... It's surrealism...). Something has just happened. Something violent, fast and animalesque. The only trace it was ever there is the giant sunflower left in that hotel corridor. These two girls fought it bravely: their clothes reduced to rags that barely cling to their bodies, the blonde's expression a mix of exhaustion and erotic aftermath as if this demonic force seeked to corrupt these children and somehow succeeded. She holds a petal in her hand, proof that she fought the sunflower beast. The brunnette stands triunphantly in the corridor, looking down at the corpse of that humongous flower, as if she had just landed there a split second ago. Her hair flying upward in the now calm scene as if, when the beast was alive, a furious wind raged and had just stopped. There is this sense that they have just witnessed something that will change them forever and they can't even tell their parents or friends about it: no one would ever believe such a thing. And still, how else will they explain their tattered clothing and that wilted flower? See, this snapshot was taken a moment too late and it missed the action. But on the far right of the painting, one of the doors in that old beat up corridor stands askew, announcing that the dream has not yet ended and more action is to come. And you know how dreams are nonstop action: if you wait there for a second longer, these girls will have been gone...
This painting was done by surrealist painter Dorothea Tanning, one of few women painters who actually made it to stardom. It's title is Ein Klein Nachtmusik (A little night-music), a parody of one Mozart's most gentle and childish musics (or so they say... I haven't heard it yet). It adds to a tone of nightmare, being such a pleasant little title in such a grim painting. It deals with that way childish things inspire terror when corrupted (the dolls with demonic eyes in horror movies or the knife-bearing child in Pet Sematary).
quinta-feira, setembro 12, 2002
A few weeks ago, I got David Bowie`s Heathen (yes, i's supposed to be strikethrough like that..).
Like most of Bowie`s CDs, it takes a while to get used to it. At first, the songs may seem weird, Bowie`s voice terrible. But his songs are catchy and the lyrics surreal and, despite first impressions, his voice seems correctly placed in the harmony, save for one or two occasions. So after a while you get to adore the stuff.
In this one, Bowie organizes the songs so as to go from christian to heathen. His first song, Sunday, sounds like church chanting. The title makes one think of going to church on sundays. The last song is obviously called Heathen, but it carries a similar religious tone. Things in between seem, as most of Bowie`s things, related to everyday life and a calm and soothing routine.
Pay special attention on track 5 (Affraid), where he seems to continue the line of Survive, from his former album Hours; tracks 7 (I would be your slave) and 11 (Everyone says 'Hi') for the use of samples probably originated from video games; and track 8 (I took a trip on a Gemini spaceship), which seems to recall the style seen in the Ziggy Stardust era. Other tracks have their own special little features, but I guess these are the ones that really got me thinking.
Actually, I am mistaken when I say he goes from christian to heathen. The songs in between have nothing to do with religion. Let`s just say he places everyday life between two religion-related "parenthesis".
The CD cover seems to have been made by Bowie himself. Sacred images that go from paintings to statues and pages of religious writting appear slashed, stained with ink, cris-crossed and mauled in other ways. All text is seen in strikethrough. On the front, Bowie's face, with supernatural blank eyes that differ from earlier works where he made a trademark out of the fact that he has a green eye and a hazel eye. His figure seems to be back to the old aesthetics: shortly trimmed hair after the long-haired hiatus seen on the Hours CD cover. On the back, he is seen once again, decending a staircase in a suit and tie, as heathen and un-religious as any businessman.
Like most of Bowie`s CDs, it takes a while to get used to it. At first, the songs may seem weird, Bowie`s voice terrible. But his songs are catchy and the lyrics surreal and, despite first impressions, his voice seems correctly placed in the harmony, save for one or two occasions. So after a while you get to adore the stuff.
In this one, Bowie organizes the songs so as to go from christian to heathen. His first song, Sunday, sounds like church chanting. The title makes one think of going to church on sundays. The last song is obviously called Heathen, but it carries a similar religious tone. Things in between seem, as most of Bowie`s things, related to everyday life and a calm and soothing routine.
Pay special attention on track 5 (Affraid), where he seems to continue the line of Survive, from his former album Hours; tracks 7 (I would be your slave) and 11 (Everyone says 'Hi') for the use of samples probably originated from video games; and track 8 (I took a trip on a Gemini spaceship), which seems to recall the style seen in the Ziggy Stardust era. Other tracks have their own special little features, but I guess these are the ones that really got me thinking.
Actually, I am mistaken when I say he goes from christian to heathen. The songs in between have nothing to do with religion. Let`s just say he places everyday life between two religion-related "parenthesis".
The CD cover seems to have been made by Bowie himself. Sacred images that go from paintings to statues and pages of religious writting appear slashed, stained with ink, cris-crossed and mauled in other ways. All text is seen in strikethrough. On the front, Bowie's face, with supernatural blank eyes that differ from earlier works where he made a trademark out of the fact that he has a green eye and a hazel eye. His figure seems to be back to the old aesthetics: shortly trimmed hair after the long-haired hiatus seen on the Hours CD cover. On the back, he is seen once again, decending a staircase in a suit and tie, as heathen and un-religious as any businessman.
quarta-feira, setembro 11, 2002
terça-feira, setembro 10, 2002
ABOUT THE VITAL STATS:
I've compiled a small list of useless little things that won't change your view of me, but that are fun anyway. It's supposed to help newcomers to the blog as well (although we don't see too much of those...).
Current Mood ==> The same you´ve always known from imood.com
Current alignment ==> This pretty much explains the phase I'm currently in. Lawful or Chaotic express how apt I am to follow rules, orders, to abide the law in a general way, to be a good guy or to subvert everything, question dogmas and do things my way, to be a destructive villain. Clear phases emphasize comfort, serenity, daylight and an overall positive and sociable attitude. Dark phases are an overall goth aspect, introspective, in touch with life's more bitter aspects...
Codename ==> Well, I guess it´s pretty much self-explanatory...
Age ==> Wouldn't you like to know...
Sign ==> Not that I believe much in these things...
"Current" hair ==> You never know when I might someday have the nerve to dye it white or something...
Eyes ==> Trademark of a scorpio. These never change...
Current marks ==> Just in case you have to identify the body some day...
Current vehicle ==> On foot, car, bike, rollerskate, jet, chopper, swinging from vines... I'll get there somehow.
Current soundtrack ==> Music works like a drug for me. Changes my mood completely and makes me addicted to a specific tune for weeks.
Current reading ==> Books tell a lot about their readers...
Current writting ==> Ideas tend to spawn ideas...
Current projects ==> 'Cause the artists' life never stops.
I've compiled a small list of useless little things that won't change your view of me, but that are fun anyway. It's supposed to help newcomers to the blog as well (although we don't see too much of those...).
Current Mood ==> The same you´ve always known from imood.com
Current alignment ==> This pretty much explains the phase I'm currently in. Lawful or Chaotic express how apt I am to follow rules, orders, to abide the law in a general way, to be a good guy or to subvert everything, question dogmas and do things my way, to be a destructive villain. Clear phases emphasize comfort, serenity, daylight and an overall positive and sociable attitude. Dark phases are an overall goth aspect, introspective, in touch with life's more bitter aspects...
Codename ==> Well, I guess it´s pretty much self-explanatory...
Age ==> Wouldn't you like to know...
Sign ==> Not that I believe much in these things...
"Current" hair ==> You never know when I might someday have the nerve to dye it white or something...
Eyes ==> Trademark of a scorpio. These never change...
Current marks ==> Just in case you have to identify the body some day...
Current vehicle ==> On foot, car, bike, rollerskate, jet, chopper, swinging from vines... I'll get there somehow.
Current soundtrack ==> Music works like a drug for me. Changes my mood completely and makes me addicted to a specific tune for weeks.
Current reading ==> Books tell a lot about their readers...
Current writting ==> Ideas tend to spawn ideas...
Current projects ==> 'Cause the artists' life never stops.
segunda-feira, setembro 09, 2002
quinta-feira, setembro 05, 2002
Surreal revelations I:
I refuse to deal with matters about the reality of my native country in my works. At first, I had written in one of my books that my refusal was a matter of choice. Because I had lived abroad and knew enough of the world not to be restrained to my native land. But that was an enormous lie. To anyone who might read my notebooks and, most of all, to myself.
The truth is, I do not live in my native country. Hence, I cannot write, or paint or even discuss it. Anything I might produce would be a glamourizations of a reality I can't begin to comprehend. Over the months I have been awakened by a number of teachers in the art course, by national films that export a grim view of my country to the world and by observations of the world around me, the one thing I prided in doing so the most... But my observations never pierced much of the bubble I live in.
I live in a bubble. A bubble that works much like a movie. Background scenery is expensive, laden with beautiful neon lights by night and strobes of dance floors in the weekend. Flickering lights of TVs and computer screens light the houses and teach us to speak English and enjoy the knowledge and aesthetics of the capitalist world. Everything is so white and clear and we dress in black (elegant black...) to contrast with the background.
The people are Caucasian: white skins, a variety of hair colours and styles, an even greater variety of eye colours. Every now and then, a coloured person steps into the scene, just to make this movie politically correct. They live just like the Caucasians, but with a tint of exotic culture and candomble reminiscence. Asians are here also, in a fair number. And the whole "racial issue" is sometimes brought up in tones of mild rage. A little fraudy tale for the children to believe there's something to fight for.
There is beauty. Although it may be hard to find perfect beauty, and we may have to ignore a certain number of flaws in our forms, there is beauty. And everyone, save for one or another, thinks rationally, is levelheaded and sociable, given the different intensities.
I'm not even going to talk about religion... Kardec rules those who still believe in something. But most, including me, believe in nothing but the "real world".
Life seems to be planned out by simple choices, which we tend to turn into the most important things in our existences. Who do we date, what career do we choose, where do we live, what brands do we buy, how do we name our dogs, or our cars for that matter. None of it will make any big difference, of course. If things go wrong, there are always second chances, and the most serious consequence one has to face is criticism.
But I get news and glimpses of the world outside... Outside, we are actually outnumbered. The cities barely have lights other than incandescent bulbs with no lampshades. Everything is gray, at times lit by the yellow light of such bulbs, and at times lit by nothing but blue moonlight. During the day, everything is plain old gray. TVs, if functioning, show only static, or a single channel owned by a foundation that brainwashed people into voting for specific governors, enjoying low quality variety shows and soap operas and believing in better days that will never come. Computers exist only in welfare foundations and for educational purposes only.
The people are a mix of different tones of coloured skin, but all coloured. Hair and eyes are always pitch balck. Seldom do Caucasians exist as pure breed. This is the most numerous race that takes up over three quarters of the population, I believe. There is no culture. Or perhaps just mass culture. They will consume anything that that TV channel orders them to. The assortment of a great number of different cultures has turned them into a great mass with no cultural unity. They don't even seem to understand each other. And this alienation is the greatest control tool of the information-wielding class (mostly Caucasians, sadly...). So, you see, the "racial issue" isn't even an issue. It is plainly reality. For us, inside the bubble, racism is a shameful thing. And that's why every now and then a coloured person shows up inside the bubble. But outside, it is blatantly how things are done. Coloured people are employees, never employers. Most coloured people are unemployed. And I wonder about the ones inside the bubble.
There seems to be no beauty. At least none that I can see. But then again, I'v been conditioned...
Religion is Christian. And a great many deal of information-wielders extort money from believers this way. Old-fashioned, medieval Church system.
Life is a constant battle between the official, corrupt government and an unofficial, disorgaized, yet somehow caring underworld government that seems to be more appealing to them than the first because it pays more. The so called "decent people" who get low-paying jobs earn one third of what underworlders earn and still get to be brutalized by policemen who shoot first and ask questions later or execute at will to "set an example". This brutality seems pointless, but there is a point: it´s a control mechanism to prevent them from spreading beyond their shanty towns. Information-wielders and the corrupt government have been ever so successful in keeping the underworld government disorganized. Because if that ever happens, they might as well take over. The underworld government is just as violent, recruiting children to raise money through drug deals and teenagers to bare fire arms against the official government, whenever it happens to venture into the shanty towns. Life expectancy is lower, but it seems it pays more and still gives benefits the official government doesn't. Benefits otherwise found only inside the bubble.
That TV channel talks about better days. But the war out there is so complex, there is no hope for better days. The only hope is for something to lessen the pains and take their minds off all this death.
I don't think half of what I wrote about the outside matches reality. But it's what I've heard anyway. The bubble refracts the outside to make it different. Sometimes better, sometimes worse. There´s no telling.
It seems stupid that I criticise movies that export this grim vision and then write about it later. There's plenty of good in here if you look for it. But I just had to let some steam out.
The question now is, can I do something to lessen the pain, or do I just sit inside my bubble???
I refuse to deal with matters about the reality of my native country in my works. At first, I had written in one of my books that my refusal was a matter of choice. Because I had lived abroad and knew enough of the world not to be restrained to my native land. But that was an enormous lie. To anyone who might read my notebooks and, most of all, to myself.
The truth is, I do not live in my native country. Hence, I cannot write, or paint or even discuss it. Anything I might produce would be a glamourizations of a reality I can't begin to comprehend. Over the months I have been awakened by a number of teachers in the art course, by national films that export a grim view of my country to the world and by observations of the world around me, the one thing I prided in doing so the most... But my observations never pierced much of the bubble I live in.
I live in a bubble. A bubble that works much like a movie. Background scenery is expensive, laden with beautiful neon lights by night and strobes of dance floors in the weekend. Flickering lights of TVs and computer screens light the houses and teach us to speak English and enjoy the knowledge and aesthetics of the capitalist world. Everything is so white and clear and we dress in black (elegant black...) to contrast with the background.
The people are Caucasian: white skins, a variety of hair colours and styles, an even greater variety of eye colours. Every now and then, a coloured person steps into the scene, just to make this movie politically correct. They live just like the Caucasians, but with a tint of exotic culture and candomble reminiscence. Asians are here also, in a fair number. And the whole "racial issue" is sometimes brought up in tones of mild rage. A little fraudy tale for the children to believe there's something to fight for.
There is beauty. Although it may be hard to find perfect beauty, and we may have to ignore a certain number of flaws in our forms, there is beauty. And everyone, save for one or another, thinks rationally, is levelheaded and sociable, given the different intensities.
I'm not even going to talk about religion... Kardec rules those who still believe in something. But most, including me, believe in nothing but the "real world".
Life seems to be planned out by simple choices, which we tend to turn into the most important things in our existences. Who do we date, what career do we choose, where do we live, what brands do we buy, how do we name our dogs, or our cars for that matter. None of it will make any big difference, of course. If things go wrong, there are always second chances, and the most serious consequence one has to face is criticism.
But I get news and glimpses of the world outside... Outside, we are actually outnumbered. The cities barely have lights other than incandescent bulbs with no lampshades. Everything is gray, at times lit by the yellow light of such bulbs, and at times lit by nothing but blue moonlight. During the day, everything is plain old gray. TVs, if functioning, show only static, or a single channel owned by a foundation that brainwashed people into voting for specific governors, enjoying low quality variety shows and soap operas and believing in better days that will never come. Computers exist only in welfare foundations and for educational purposes only.
The people are a mix of different tones of coloured skin, but all coloured. Hair and eyes are always pitch balck. Seldom do Caucasians exist as pure breed. This is the most numerous race that takes up over three quarters of the population, I believe. There is no culture. Or perhaps just mass culture. They will consume anything that that TV channel orders them to. The assortment of a great number of different cultures has turned them into a great mass with no cultural unity. They don't even seem to understand each other. And this alienation is the greatest control tool of the information-wielding class (mostly Caucasians, sadly...). So, you see, the "racial issue" isn't even an issue. It is plainly reality. For us, inside the bubble, racism is a shameful thing. And that's why every now and then a coloured person shows up inside the bubble. But outside, it is blatantly how things are done. Coloured people are employees, never employers. Most coloured people are unemployed. And I wonder about the ones inside the bubble.
There seems to be no beauty. At least none that I can see. But then again, I'v been conditioned...
Religion is Christian. And a great many deal of information-wielders extort money from believers this way. Old-fashioned, medieval Church system.
Life is a constant battle between the official, corrupt government and an unofficial, disorgaized, yet somehow caring underworld government that seems to be more appealing to them than the first because it pays more. The so called "decent people" who get low-paying jobs earn one third of what underworlders earn and still get to be brutalized by policemen who shoot first and ask questions later or execute at will to "set an example". This brutality seems pointless, but there is a point: it´s a control mechanism to prevent them from spreading beyond their shanty towns. Information-wielders and the corrupt government have been ever so successful in keeping the underworld government disorganized. Because if that ever happens, they might as well take over. The underworld government is just as violent, recruiting children to raise money through drug deals and teenagers to bare fire arms against the official government, whenever it happens to venture into the shanty towns. Life expectancy is lower, but it seems it pays more and still gives benefits the official government doesn't. Benefits otherwise found only inside the bubble.
That TV channel talks about better days. But the war out there is so complex, there is no hope for better days. The only hope is for something to lessen the pains and take their minds off all this death.
I don't think half of what I wrote about the outside matches reality. But it's what I've heard anyway. The bubble refracts the outside to make it different. Sometimes better, sometimes worse. There´s no telling.
It seems stupid that I criticise movies that export this grim vision and then write about it later. There's plenty of good in here if you look for it. But I just had to let some steam out.
The question now is, can I do something to lessen the pain, or do I just sit inside my bubble???
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