Aimee Mackenzie @w1550758 - Tumblr Blog

Felix Gonzalez-Torres- Perfect Lovers

while ostensibly a fairly simple installation, the depth of feeling that accompanies this piece is astounding. It consists of two clocks, of the same construction, with the same batteries, hung next to each other on the wall. The idea is, that despite their identical origin, the two clocks will develop faults, through wear and tear and environmental conditions that cannot be prevented, and they will fall out of sync. One will eventually stop, leaving the other to continue ticking away, until it too, succumbs to time.

This mimics the life of Gonzalez-Torres, in that his lover died of AIDS, and this was his tribute, both to the perfection of their connection, and to the inevitable development of differences that led to his loss.

Paul Koudounaris- Memento Mori

Paul Koudounaris works with death in another way; he explores it, and all the permeations of death rituals around the world. the exploration of what makes death “good” in all cultures is interesting to me, but its the head on approach to confronting mortality is what I need to replicate.

SOPHIE CALLE: MY MOTHER, MY CAT, MY FATHER, IN THAT ORDER

sophie calles way of dealing with her grief seems irreverant, almost. she uses images of animals that remind her of her parents, an image of her dead cat, souris, and screenshots and transcripts of conversations with them.

but the brutal, almost funny honesty of her interaction with death made me cry, and so I think the emotional bluntness is something that I can look at replicating. I think that by talking honestly about the time after my father died, I can make an impact that would not be possible with platitudes.

my fathers father told my mother;

when you have lost someone, grief comes in a wave. its a tsunami of fear and misery, and it takes over, crushing everything that you have, and leaving you with lungs full of water. the next wave comes, and it is just as big, just as violent. the waves don’t ever get smaller. you always come up the other side half drowned. But the experience is improved through the hard won knowledge that on the other side, the waters are calm. you know already, after 40 years, that you will survive.

this was about my Uncle William, who died in a military training exercise at 16.in the 60s. it killed his mother, slowly, and his father, stoic and stern, cried to my mother about it. I think he felt safe with someone he never had to support.

I have an idea of organising my images by season; my father was buried in summer, and he is best described by spring, and a lot of my images are autumnal or wintery.

I tried to post the audio, but tumblr wont let me. its a little noisy, but I’ll be working with an audio engineer to get it cleaned up, and re-record the bits where I’ve stuttered or stumbled.

voiceover

I’m still working on it, but the script should look something like this.

20-08-16-12-24

or, I’m sorry, he died today.

On august 20th, 2016, at 12:24pm, I answered the phone to a man offering my father a job. this is what i said to him; “I’m sorry, he died today” and then I hung up.

It would later turn out, that this man had been a good friend of my fathers, had worked with him for many years, and this was how he found out. He hadn’t even known my father was ill.

in fact, it had been 36 minutes exactly, and I could still hear my mother howling in the next room. I cannot describe the noise that she made, except to tell you that I have not forgotten it, and that when, six weeks later, I was asked to retreive a pair of reading glasses from his bedside drawer, I looked at the mess of pills, hearing aide batteries, and inexplicable allan key sets, inhaled the sight of all that was left, and exhaled a noise I will never be able to replicate or explain.

from the day he died, my mother shut down. for a year and 10 months, we hardly spoke, except for when she called to let me know that christmas would be too much, and that I was to make my own plans.

on june 11th of this year, I ended up driving 1370 miles with; her, a cat, a dog, and most of her possessions. it took nearly three days. for much of that, we were driving through mountains, the fog and the forests veiling me from the world, and limiting my world to the car, to stare at the cracks in her veneer.

there is something soothing about the quiet oblivion of trees passing by, about the blur of the great beyond, that you might never get to see, passing by in an instant, never knowing quite what lies on the other side of the woods.

the first thing my father said when he was diagnosed was “ah well, I had a good run”. and then he burst into tears. he was always so full of light, and hope, and watching that leave him destroyed me, but not until after he wasn’t there to see me fall.

the last thing he ever said to me, well , the last thing he ever said, I can’t know for sure taht he knew who he was talking to, but he looked me dead in the eye, and he said “I’m so sorry my baby. I love you”

I’ve been thinking about potential layouts for my final peice, and I’ve decided on a general floor plan, but I will need to experiment with it going forward. I plan on making a diorama of it, to better illustrate my point.

this is another fabric/projection project that I can draw inspiration from, this time by pulska grupa, on the subject of architecture as complicit in the inequality of debate on war and democracy- Unmediated Democracy Demands Unmediated Space (2012)

this might be an idea that I can use to incorperate the gauze into my fmp, while enclosing it in a more private space. I cant find any credit on this video, nor any link to the rest of the work. edit: the channel that posted this has some other videos, but there isn’t an artist website or anything. I believe the artist may be called Natalie Garcia

presentation ideas

my initial idea for presenting my images was going to be a series of large prints, each covered with a sheer white peice of fabric. not only does this relate back to the covers used when shooting wioth a large format camera, I believed that it would create a sense of privacy for the viewer, allowing a more intimate viewing experience. this works with my project goals in general, since my intention is to evoke an emotional reaction, as well as a feeling of connection. however, when I presented the idea to my group at the end of year, I was told that the sense of privacy would not be enough to encourage viewers to forget themselves. I was also told that the explanation of my project might develop well into a voice over.

applestand

there is something generationally particular about the nostalgia of an image in film. there are those who theorise that our devotion to all things old is a part of the technological revolution. we have lived a lifetime of development by the time we are adults, the easy comfort of memory a ritual of home comfort. we remember and remember and remember because there is so much to remember.

all the same, the disconnection of the bygone era is a nightmare to us. Alone, in a car, with a few cassettes, snacks, and only the company of those with whom you travel. it is quite suddenly completely possible to be lost, to be unseen. this envokes a kind of attention that would otherwise take practice, a mindfullness of your surroundings, and of the self.

this is, too, an homage to the home that one finds on the road. there is a long practiced comfort in the machinations of travel. We are without harbour, without home, and it is this loss that forces us to find homes, not in brick, but in flesh, and blood, and myth, and road.

applestand

when something is obscured, when it is visible only beyond the veil of fog or darkness, it becomes more than it is. even when we know, we little humans, what is really behind the door, ajar, we cannot help but make a monster of the beyond. when something is shrouded, it becomes a part of the elsewhere.

So long as a door remains, it may be opened.

health, wealth, happiness

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

Aimee Mackenzie