Discourse, noun, written or spoken communication or debate."the language of political discourse"
Responce to "Other than photography"
I often feel a sense of dread when I come to talk about other works that I relate to my own. I am not a great reader and so literature and poetry very rarely have any bearing on my work. I can sometimes be inspired by film or by other artwork in combination with my own life experiences and in that way I can think of many that I might relate. Quite often my photography (Examples below) is inspired by other photography practitioners and their work.
My second great passion often raises the eyebrow of anyone who doesn't share the same passion, despite the great progress this form of media has made over the past three decades. And weather the work in question has been created by a major production company, a small team or even an individual, the creators must call on multiple artforms, including music, photography, painting, animation and storytelling.
And yet, video games, their creators, and their devotees, are often shamed, belittled or at least patronised. Nonetheless, the relationship between my work and video games is deep-rooted, though perhaps obscure on the surface. The video game I mention now for this task is the Silent Hill series, specifically the second instalment (Silent Hill 2, Published by Konami and developed by Team Silent), which affected me deeply when I first experienced it. Now thought of as one of the classics in video game horror, Silent Hill 2 follows the protagonist James Sunderland as he searches for his late wife in the apparently abandoned town of Silent Hill.
One notable moment for me during the game was the experience of exploring the "Butterfly Room". This sequence is one of the most tense and mysterious moments in the game. While trying to find your way through the apartment building the player will come across this room, dimly it in strong green and red tonnes, moths flutter in the light while butterflies lay dead on the bed. A rhythmic atonal strumming plays over the scene relentlessly. The tension builds as the character must reach into a hole in the wall in order to make progress, with no idea of what might be in the hole. Though the character gasps and flinches, but there is no real consequence of this action and the tension is partialy alleviated, but not totally.
You can watch Youtuber WatchMeBeibeh play through this scene in this video at 6:39:
You can also see Youtuber Obscura Lens play through this moment retrospectively with her own commentary here on youtube, wich gives a deeper look into the symbolism behind the scene.
The tension in this scene is achieved through the combination of imagery and sound, using strong colours in the aesthetic, red which is often used as a symbol for violence and aggression, green, for nature though in this scene it seems to glow like acid and is almost unnatural, almost as dangerous as red. The sense of the unknown, is initiated by the pervasive banging and exasperated by the action of reaching into the darkness at risk of harm to the protaganist. The overall experience, a mix of tension and enigma, almost touching primal instincts, is what I try to convey in my own work. This scene has strong elements of horror, but also touches on sexuality, intimacy and fear (Particularly for me as I have a deep phobia of moths and butterflies).
In my work, I shoot at night searching for spaces devoid of people, where I gain sense of vulnerability. I often use strong colours, something I take from the work of Gregory Crewdson but wich is also present here, and I tend to explore spaces that are hidden or industrial: urban spaces that most people have no reason to occupy during the night time. Contrast between deep shadow and harsh within light industrial or urban settings, are a theme in my work and convey the idea of balance, something that Obscura Lens notes are present in this scene of the game, as well as a sense of being lost, and being in dangour.
Interdisciplinary, adjective, relating to more than one branch of knowledge. "an interdisciplinary research programme"
safety in numbness
mny responce: The photograph is enless. It is more important than video becuase unlike video it has no begining and end. Video starts and finishes and the story ius done and we move on. The image demands we continue to look at it, live it, try to understand it and find more information buried within it, and even when we think we have found all there is to be found its placement on the gallery wall, o even in the archive, demands we revisit it again and look further. The lateness is just a fad, true photojounalism will return.
I follow many different photography pages on social media, from commercial, to fine art, to simple photography clubs. On all the sites I have seen repeated instances of Dance photography, often combined with chalk powder and dramatic lighting, with comment sections full of praise for both the photographer and the dancer. Dance and Photography have a particularly interesting relationship to me, party as this is a discipline I was recently commissioned to make a series of photos of. Photographers at many different levels find themselves drawn to dance and it is not difficult to see why. The art of dance, being a performance art, is highly visible not just in in of itself, but it is in theatres, cinemas and plays, it’s on our Tv’s. The immediacy of gratification provided from watching a beautiful, or action-packed dance has certainly hit the nation.
Take for example the rise of the dance group “Diversity”, who stared on the British Tv talent show “The X Factor”. Even when up against awe inspiring crowd favorite Susan Boyle, who had taken the world by storm, and by surprise, with her incredible and unexpected singing talent, it was clear that British audiences had a thirst for their tightly choreographed dances that, when compared to such disciplines as interpretive or classical dance, displayed clear narratives and thrilling dance moves that wowed audiences. It is no wander that photographers would jump at the chance to immortalize such a moment with well-choreographed lighting to match, and then stamp the print with their name as if they have ownership over whatever dance move is being performed at the time.
I often shy away from anything I think has been done too many times before by other photographers, or work I see as contrived or purely attention seeking in its intentions. Making photos of dancers is not something I had ever done before. But when I turned up at the theatre and began to work alongside the dancers, I realized there was something more to the relationship of the photographer and the dancer. Perhaps this is particular to my situation, as I did not hire the dancers to be in my photograph, the dancers hired me to take their photos, and want began was an interesting dialogue of between my understanding of light, composition and the technicalities of a camera, and there understanding of timings, form and good posture. I would take an Image that I felt was spectacular, the movement in the human body almost impossible as they hang in the air. Then the dancer in question would review the photograph with a grimace and complain about their inability to keep their back straight or get their hand in just the right position. When I confronted and asked it was my timing their reaction was to tell me that they were amazed I could capture them so sharp, so stationary. It allowed them to review their own abilities and make changes to their movements in order to improve their skills. A working relationship was born in which I was now not just a photographer, but a tool for them to improve themselves.
This experience stayed on my mind, and after a quick search I came across the work of the Ken Browar and Deborah Ory who together created the NYC Dance Project. This was work I had come across before, but I had never really given in much thought beyond seeing them as well composed high end images. I now realize this was more than just a collaboration between two photographers, it was the work of them and many more dancers. More interesting I found was that Deborah Ory had been a dancer herself and began to focus on her photography only after an injury had made it impossible for her to dance at the time. The photographs by Browar and Ory and nothing short of astounding, lighting for a moving person, I have learned, is incredibly default especially when they are moving quickly. It does of course help that with a professional dancer there is a level of consistency, but ultimately the lighting is for a subject that will only exist for a mere split second, and you must capture that moment. In order to get this right, the photographer and the dancer must work together in tandem, able to explain themselves, what they require and what they want to achieve efficiently so as not to waste time. Dancers, I have again found, are not infallible and do indeed get tired, just as photographers do.
The work of course ultimately is pulled into the discourse of advertising and promoting the performance. With any luck, it may also inspire and motivate its audience. In my own case, my images can be found littered across Avant Cymru’s twitter account with various messages to promote and inspire. The NYC project is something much grander, though ultimately has the same objective. To celebrate the talent of these dancers, to promote another art form through collaboration.
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