David Harvey “Militant & Particular; a geographers response to flexible accumulation” (Haavard )

recommended films/directors;

Gambling Gods & LSD; peter Mettler http://www.petermettler.com/home.html (Victor)

recommended artists;

Marina A

Sunday

Tuesday

text appears courtesy of Fiona Bowie Studio
©Fiona Bowie 2006.
all rights reserved. Use of this text by expressed permission only by Fiona Bowie Studio.
Fiona Bowie Studio can be reached at fionabowiestudio@gmail.com <mailto:bowiefb@gmail.com>

©2005 Slip/Host (synopsis follows text) The text in brackets are descriptions of the installation, imagery, directions. The blue italic text in brackets is spoken by a female voice. The text is imparted as if telling a story to a child at bedtime. It is meant to be read as if you are reading a bed-time story to the viewer. Because of the way you (Alan) will be projected in the installation, every time you look at the camera, it will appear to the viewer visiting the installation as if you are actually looking at them. GARGANTUAN HEAD (SEDENTARY MANUFACTURER FOLLOWS) ______________________________________________________________________ (start)

(eyes cast downward)

To disappear….

pause

To disappear…

long pause

So large it was,

(look to camera)

so much so ,

(back to reading)

that to Somniforia and Catatonia it was utterly invisible.

Though one could say they were one in the same thing, the two noggins rarely conferred. They were most often engaged in disparate vistas, one focusing to the fore while the other receded into on a distant distraction.

They fluctuated between the here and now and enough said.

On the one hand wholly connected while on the other utterly differentiated

- though from what, they did not know.

Therefore, capturing a glimpse of something beyond-for now, at any rate- lay beyond what contained them.

( focus momentarily on marker)

With Catatonia to her right, the left noggin, Somniforia noticed that the veins in her neck expanded and contracted with each pump of her presently wistful heart.

As she noticed this, she felt a thread of pulsation extend forth from her jugular toward the thicket of molecules covering her epidermis and

out toward what appeared as merely dust and clouds which in actual fact, held all the secrets of time.

In an imperceptible quantum (since it was all relative anyway)

this fracture

this miniscule thread

extended out past her noggin and beyond what was her known universe.

Out past the molecules (she thought was her sky) contained by a thin membrane which in actual fact was a cell wall,

and out

out

Through roll upon roll of distended fat contained by a mass that sat like a great lump of undifferentiated matter- as if devoid of fibroblasts.

Incredible to think that, what Somniforia thought extended from her noggin, was at this point so far beyond her realm.

And at this point, relative light years away from her, it entered the realm of the blankly composed. More specifically, contained in a body designed by a take- away conglomerate that originated in 1950′s California:

where responses were most often molded, packaged neatly and expressed as convenience or desire. So large it was, so much so that to Somniforia and Catatonia it was utterly invisible. Little did they know that the universe was made up of so much blubber!

Having ‘less fortunates’ carry on its business, the great blankly composed lump sat sucking the marrow out of a thin, hormone rich battery chicken bone, whose molecular structure had been fucked with inconsolably by unthinking busy hands.

As the undiscerning teeth crushed the tip of the thigh bone into shards and goo, the miniscule thread shook, and with each crunch, pulsated forth into what was quite wrongly considered air, but in actual fact, was matter teeming with oscillations of stuff that the eye can’t see.

This miniscule thread was but one of the all that ran through the objects:

characters,

projectors,

lump,

clouds,

they operated as everything, one thing and nothing at the same time.

and what the monsters conceived as god (!)

so far from it those little strings

(long pause here, can contemplate the universe for a moment and then continue with the story)

for this great lump like the others,

life was a neatly packaged convenience.

This was thus a great help to a few of them who’d imbued themselves with the appearance of omnipotence, enabling them to impose their will on what ever their insatiable appetite dictated, their carefully manicured veneer belied the primeval depths of their puffy skulls.

So large they were invisible to Somniforia and Catatonia

Puffy great lumps!

All else and all other falling from and by them

To disappear

(pause) (the text in blue is spoken by a female voice: FYI – it is a partial list of species lost during the 20/21st centuries)

to disappear

gone:

(Panthera tigrisbalisa )

Gone:

(toki)

Gone:

(Capra pyrenaica pyrenaica)

Gone:

(Pipistrelle bats) Gone:

(Skylarks)

Gone :

(Alpine butterwort)

Gone:

(Black veined white butterfly)

Gone,

( irish saxifrage)

Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone… (impatiently)

(female voice continues at a low volume in the background as your dialogue continues)

(Kentish plover; large blue butterfly; yangtze dolphin; chinese sturgeon; green turtle; imperial parrot; piping plover; przewalkis horse; sei whale; takahe; Japanese crested ibis; Vancouver island marmot; mountain gorilla; mouse eared bat, Ezo wolf; red colobus etc.)

(pause)

The few lumps at the top of the heap – operated on a comparatively gargantuan scale, while THIS lump and most of his cronies were always focusing on large SIZED things; and things of little or contained Import;

- particularly things that could be contained within a couple of degrees of immediate experience.

And, like the gargantuan conglomerates, because this lumps attention had been for so long thus exercised, there was a rather narrow limitation to what could be thunk. (sic) it was -(though the endless course of attractive distractions concealed it well)

(look into camera)

Stuck

In

A

Bit

Of

A

Rut.

It’s relativeness did not recognize things out of scale, such as the tiny, long winged fly who was at that moment, attempting a sophisticated regimen of flying and buzzing which could have directed the lump’s attention to things more delicate and refined.

The fly moved in and out in regular rhythmic patterns, then out and up in a crescendo to it’s landing. But it did not draw the lump’s attention to the fact that it was quite musical in it’s operations (and quite sophisticated in that, while undertaking all of this, the fly also managed to summon it’s kin to it through an intricate phrasing of oscillations.

Such an amazing feat went completely unappreciated!

Instead of making it consider what language is -

it only made the lump think of the tip of it’s nose and how irritating the almost imperceptible movement of air from the fly’s wings were.

Though the unyielding gnawing did not yield even a hint of it.

Not even a hint.

This lump, being much like the rest of them -preferred inhaling substantial quantities of appealing items. . Still…. even though surrounded by beautiful things of it’s own imaginings, the sound of gurgles and flabberwacks caused by the work of little friends in the gut permeated the surface of the deep blue sky… ( look out and up- get lost in the moment, so distracted that you’ve stopped reading)

(regain composure, continue the story ):

permeated the surface of the deep blue sky…

and rumbled thoroughly and through gluts and folds of soft, waxy deposits so that even the noggins, as diminutive as they were- could feel the reverberations.

Though the lumps thought themselves self-contained, this was not the case at all. There was stuff flyin’ off and comin’out all over the place. Invisible yes, both in the olfactory and visual sense to us, yet for the flys…even perfume didn’t deter them.

…but this was of no concern to Catatonia or Narcissis, so miniscule were they: a mere symptom of the larger whole.

To every one (but you at this moment perhaps) they were invisible.

Their orbit only as significant as any other

operating on any scale.

The pair had not yet reconciled how they,

the waxy flesh far, far beyond,

the projectors and yours truly meshed….

All this resparating, rotting, carrion action – rendering everything into what remains to be seen.

Slowly they were to realize that they were surrounded by their own imaginings.

-on the one hand wholly connected, while on the other utterly differentiated.

For instance that.

look!

One actor checks out the back of the other

Who would have thought that!

And yet here it is.

On the one hand, wholly connected, while on the other utterly differentiated from (to camera) YOUR current train of thought.

Curiously enough, through recognizing the particular frequencies that held their form,

The actors

The story

The apparatus

The philosophy ( small red lights on or near these objects in the installation will flash as they are mentioned )

The here and now

The ‘nough said

the atoms

and what could not be imaged or readily discovered, they were able to synthesize their perception and thus create a revelation of sorts.

Just think

This miniscule thread was but one of all that ran through all the objects!

Through recognizing this, they were to glimpse that this flatulent puffy lump, which made up their universe, with it’s malignancy ripening,

was about to implode and send them into a different orbit

-one that they could not quite comprehend or imagine.

Having realized the implication of this, Somniforia, Catatonia and all of the other things waited with great anticipation…..

END

SEDENTARY MANUFACTURER ________________________________________________________________________ This is the great lump referred to in the narrative. He is the gargantuan head’s antithesis, existing concurrently in the parallel universe. Description taken from your dialogue: And at this point, relative light years away from her, it entered the realm of the blankly composed.

More specifically, contained in a body designed by a take- away conglomerate that originated in 1950′s California: where responses were most often molded, packaged neatly and expressed as convenience or desire.

And, like the gargantuan conglomerates, because this lumps attention had been for so long thus exercised, there was a rather narrow limitation to what could be thunk. (sic) it was -(though the endless course of attractive distractions concealed it well)

There is no dialogue for this segment. Description of timeline.

The sedentary manufacturer is gluttonous, bored (but does not know it), lazy and restless. His attention span is limited to thinking about food, eating, thinking about eating, paperwork, thinking about food, eating, thinking about eating, paperwork, Etc. He is meant to be in a kind of loop much like the loop contained in Keinholz’ State Hospital. See attached.

Start

Subject is sleeping, resting his head in his hand, sitting in a chair at his desk.

(he is chewing, mumbling, drooling in his sleep)

after a couple of minutes, he awakens, slowly and stares blankly ahead (just below the camera) and then down at his paperwork.

He mutters under his breath -complaining indiscernibly about his work.

He starts chewing on nothing ( chewing ‘his cud’ so to speak) staring blankly.

Slowly his eyes brighten a little (as he imagines chicken); a faint grin appears on his face.

He looks down and grabs a chicken leg- munches on it lazily (as if he is already full)

Eats the entire thing (minus the bones of course!)

Rests his head in his hand and dozes.

He repeats the cycle again.

Subject is sleeping sitting in a chair at his desk.

(He is chewing, mumbling, drooling in his sleep)

after a couple of minutes, he awakens, slowly and stares blankly ahead (just below the camera) and then down at his paperwork.

He mutters under his breath -complaining indiscernibly about his work.

He starts chewing on nothing ( chewing ‘his cud’ so to speak) staring blankly.

Slowly his eyes brighten a little (as he imagines chicken), a faint grin appears on his face.

He looks down and grabs a chicken wing- munches on it lazily (as if he is already full) Eats the entire thing (minus the bones of course!)

Rests his head in his hand and dozes.

Slip is an imaginary world, prefaced on an otherworldly ‘landscape’: an apt analogy would be a strange marriage of The incredible Journey and the post-natural (dystopic) utopia of ghost-world or Teletubbies. This world, though recognizable as a kind of dystopic landscape (a collage of cartoon-land and clear-cut), is ambiguous in scale. This ambiguity is established and propelled by the narrator and the sound. Is it set on a microscopic scale? a macroscopic scale? The ambiguity references similarities in physical relationships (as in physics) of the sub-atomic to the cellular, the solar, to the galactic and so on…. This “world” is constructed via imagery in the form of a still 360º projection and video; and kinetic physical objects within the installation.

Slips’ parallel universe Host is a landscape more familiar to us: a simulacrum of the contemporary ‘everyday’. Set in an adjacent room, it’s industrial park landscape is made strange by the displacement of the narrative occurring in slip. The same characters occupy both worlds simultaneously : the disparate surroundings change the context and significance of the dialogue and character interaction. (FYI: The dialogue is exactly time-synced in both rooms). While the viewer can enter both worlds through a doorway, the two realms are connected with a window (connecting it to Slip) dressed up as a wormhole: so that when the viewer enters Host, they are immediately aware of Slip and can witness the tandem dialogue occurring in both spaces.

For instance, the Moon is made up of two characters in the filmic realm. Each of these ‘romantically’ composed characters Catatonia and Somniforia, have their own distractions. Somniforia for instance has become amorous toward a sphere (an actual weather balloon), not unlike their moon in scale, but existing entirely outside of her filmic world. Catatonia on the other hand is distracted by subjects within the filmic realm -the dysfunctional eye and the narrator, but is initially unable to understand their significance.

The starry dysfunctional eye (see above) is at first so tiny that it is undetectable to the human eye. It slowly emerges to reveal it’s fluttering inability to focus it’s gaze. Unlike the fixed gaze of the omnipresent conventional surveyor, it stutters and flinches and blinks and rolls back uncontrollably. It grows malignantly until it is so large that the bacteria (monara) on its eyelashes become visible. Its unresolved gaze eventually shrinks away- slowly -until invisible (only to repeat the cycle over again).

The dialogue is informed by (though may not bare a resemblance to) surrealism, fairy tales and Lewis Caroll. It slips between logic and absurdity: creating metaphorical links to contemporary experience.

Fiona Bowie’s adult fairy tale Slip/Host is presented in two rooms; one dark and one light. The first is an open bleak, black room, with a door that reveals a room behind that glows with a light of pure light blue and has a fantasy feel to it.

The first room holds the story of the mundane and grey; five black plinths that hold the tale of a chicken’s sad demise. The first plinth holds a life-sized beautiful white chicken, plump pristine and white, holding her head high. The next plinth holds a ball of white feathers, similar in size to the chicken . . . . The third plinth holds a black felt enclosure which is not as much a building as an embrace the way Fiona has gathered and secured the felt. This black enclosure is punctuated with pin pricks of light emitting out of tiny holes in the walls and roof. This must be the processing plant where the chicken is cut into parts and presented to the public for consumption. Next is the restaurant – a charming wooden western style building painted red with warm yellow lights inviting you to come inside, out of dark, cold night. The final plinth presents the bird using blackest humour – a box containing the midriff of a well fed gentleman(?) with a red arrow pointing to the belly . . .

There is a bit of shame in the laughter she provokes with this final development. On the wall projected above this tableaux is a film loop styled in a cartoonish way. The manufacturer, Alan Cumming (the Lump) sits at a table behind a mountain of roast chicken placed at the foreground of the table. We watch as he eats at the table, sleeps at the table and continuously dreams (in the cartoon dream bubble) of eating roast chicken. The pure pastel blue light of the second room is powerfully alluring in contrast to this death and obsessive consumption, and the way if provokes the viewer to reflect on thoughtless habits of consumption . . .

Slip, the second room represents the inner molecular world of the Lump. The sounds of inner digestion combine with the soft voice of Alan Cumming who, this time, is a big head floating in the light blue sky telling a tale of cause and effect within the two realms. He talks of beauty, he talks of scale, consumption and demise. He has a mesmerizing presence in the room because of his location, his enormous scale (here he’s the gargantuan head) and his wonderful gentle eyes which are focussed on either the viewer or the two women in a moon bubble on the adjacent wall.

The installation is made from simple exposed materials (light bulbs, projectors, wires, etc.)which add to the charm of the whole experience. The light fixture that creates the blue world of Slip hangs from the ceiling in the centre celebrating it’s hand made look much like an old-time Christmas tree would. The feeling of this room contrasts well to the black outer room and it’s contents finish the narrative on a calm, philosophical note. The viewer is left in a contemplative frame of mind wondering about the sentient qualities of all levels of life.

Leena Saarinen
broadcast data was pleasing to the tv stations, but lower than usual format shows
viewer profile
56% men / 42 % women; male stats – largest were 25% 25-44 yr; 20% 45 – 64 yr

categories of thought/response

Advice command to characters ; Julia be tender to Roope, don’t leave him to the storms of life
Opinion about character; Roope is young and hasty. He cannot concentrate. He has no clue yet. Juulia will suffer.
Reply to a previously received returned message; The message was not intended for your information. The intention was that Roope should examine his inner self. Woman can be a friend but only a man can be beloved.
Off topic; Happy New Year

General conclusions
satisfying ratings
we got more messages than fit to broadcast, many sent several SMS
return messages worked bu should be developed further
User generated content was fantastic
crucible studio

http://crucible.lume.fi/

leena

http://mlab.taik.fi/~lsaarine/

questions
what is current?
are hoping to have an english version (negotiating with canadians)

how did you select the messages?
all were good (no bad content) whatever worked best – a person acted as a moderator with incoming comments and made decisions about what content would be acted on. They have no plans to create software to do this in place of a person. There has to be a human to be sure to no real phone numbers etc get through.

How do the keywords work? Automation is implied.
The keywords acted as an editor presenting those emails that fall within the right mood category.