Finale

It didn't work. Many people look at my project and think to themselves "What is this?" I think the same thing when I watch my project (if I even can). Lots of time and research went into my final project for neighborhood narratives, but in the end I wasn't able to execute it the way I wanted to. Here's the basic principle:

Within the suburban streets of Tokyo, 3 different paths are travelled on my bicycle, all starting from an unfamilar place, to eventually arrive at a common destination i.e. my house. Each path is be documented with a camera attached to the front of the bike as well as dozens of points plotted using GPS technology to map out each path. Within the video/Korsakow system, the 1st person videos combined with real time map imaging is to show the viewer the orientaion of each rider between the respective paths. With the Korsakow system, the viewer is allowed to choose any of the 3 videos displayed and observe the orientation of each rider, comparing one path to another. This further encourages the viewer to notice how intricate and complex the street design is and how spontaneous, intinctual decions can lead you home or to a far away place.

I managed figure out how to rig my bike with a camera, and spent 3 days shooting my videos for my project. I recorded my points for each path and imported them using Google Earth and traced each path traveled. I cut and rendered multiple clips of each path so that they would coincide with the other videos according to time and place. I spent time learning the ins and outs of the Korsawkow system so that when it came time to import the videos, I wouldnt have to fumble around with the software.

Now for the tricky part. With every step in place, I considered the real time map display would be easy to create. Alas, I was wrong. I had no idea how to do this. I thought I had seen it done before, but I had no clue where or how to do this. Neither do I think anyone else. I was then forced to leave this part out of my video. By doing so, it left me with an incoherent and incomplete final project. This whole mapping/GPS system is what tied this project together, what drove the project to what it should have been. Unfortunately it with without. Big plans and big idea in the end proved to be nothing but an empty promise, an empty project.

But all hasn't been a failure. I have come to the realization of a few things. Through this semester I have edited several pieces and projects, often spending hours upon hours doing so. Now I realize, that even though editing can be fun, driving you towards your final piece, I don't want to be an editor. Sure I'm gonna have to do it once in a while, which I dont mind at all, but I dont want to BE an editor. I dont want that as my dayjob. For me, its doesnt involve to much creativty and is the least appealing part of the filmmaking process. I also realize that I don't like technology. Yes I pay my respects for Korsakow and Google Earth and every other program/toy/crap that comes out but, just dont get me involved with it. Film editing software is hard enough let alone having to acquaint myself with everything that comes out. I have a feeling Im gonna be a bitter old man, talking about the good ol' days. And last ephipany, is that I dont like art. Well if this is considered art, then I dont like it. I've always had the impression a lot of art is phony balony (which is is) and I dont wish to be a part of that scene. I have never once considered myself an artist, mostly because I despise that term for it is very difficult to define. I do what I do. I write, I shoot, I edit. I make films, I make music. I create. This is difficult enough let alone having to deal with labels and definitions.

As the great one Michaelangelo said:
"Yo brotha, I aint no fuckin artist. I'm a fuggin gansta'. A G-A-N-G-S-T-A. I shoot people n' shit. Leave 'em all bloody n' shit."

What a cool dude.

NN International Photo Exercise

Here is my part of the international exercise. My topic was Subway Escape. Enjoi it very much.

Bill Viola: My Baby's Daddy

Last Thursday my Neighborhood Narratives class got the chance to step outside of the TUJ classroom and spend the evening at the Mori Muesuem to check out the most premium of video artists Bill Viola. Although I've been wanting to, I haven't been able to check out any galleries or exhibits worth seeing here in Tokyo. In Philly I would go to galleries at least every month (usually nothing worth writing home about) but since I've been in Tokyo there has been a void of slow-motion, inner expressionistic/conscienceistic/zenistic video installation art in my life. How could I deny the fulfillment of my artistic thirst any longer????

Yeah, I really dug the Bill Viola exhibit. I often have a strong distaste for video art because I never ever see anything worth falling in love with. I've seen too much video artcrap that I often times don't ever give it the time of day anymore. But I heard good things about Bill Viola from Ron and Irene in class, so I was willing to open myself up and allow his video art to penetrate me deep inside once again, perhaps being able to touch me in ways that I've never been touched before. I was naked. Vulnerable. I wanted...I needed Bill Viola to take me as his own. Nurture me. Allow me to suckle from the teat of enlightenment and inspiration that only video art can provide. I wanted Bill Viola to make me big and strong. To feed me baby food and tuck me in at night. To wake me up before he goes goes. And most of all...to tell me that he respects me as a son and as a lover. So after our 5 month affair, I was really inspired to acheive more with my project in terms of installation and how it can be displayed. I also was given the opportunity to observe many of the observers of his art. Many would stand motionless for 8 minutes just watching one of his videos unfold. Viola's ability to capture the attention his viewers combined with the devotion that many viewers have watching a single video puts me at ease with my project. I was a little afraid that it would run far too long (which it will) but have assured myself that my plans for my project will acheive the resulted effect I'm looking for. I don't know how to express it with words at this moment in time, but there's an idea. I still need to do some more planning and write my artist's statement before I begin to execute it. Only when this is done will I truly know the meaning of life.

That'll be $70 Sir

Last night I decided to take the time to play around with the program Korsakow, while attempting to read the manual. This program was introduced to me by Ron Carr as an interactive medium though which we can display our final projects. The program seems very interesting, allowing the viewer to choose many different paths, some paths interconnecting each other, potentially reaching an ultimate destination or starting over again. This presents multiple outcomes, which will give me the flexibility I need for my project.

So last night I played with the program after reading the manual and what before seemed complex became very simple. The logic behind the program is very intersting but I still feel there are some limitations to it. I'm not sure if I can change the graphic appearance of the SNUs, such as the size and placement of the windows and I don't want to be limited to the maximum number of windows Korsakow allows. Maybe I can change it around. I still have to play with it some more.

So after not being able to connect the SNUs at the specific time I chose, I became frustrated and closed the program for the day. Later that night I had a dream where I was in a fiery cave in hell, and I was seated at a computer working on my Korsakow project. I couldn't link my project for shit, the same problem I had in the real world, and I asked my professor (a cross breed of Ron and Steve) and he said "Oh, if you want to link the videos, you'll have to buy the program. It costs $70." And I was all like, "F that man."

Maybe it's a sign that I shouldn't use Korsakow.

The Line: Day 3

I must admit, I was a little worried. The third part of my assignment is to interact in some way with your space, which may include participations or interviews. But I don't know the Japanese language. And I don't know Japanese customs. And for everynight, I asked myself: "How will I interact with these people?" I tried to plan ahead, learning key phrases and answers to the questions that I would anticipate. "Interesting." "What are you doing?" "What kind of animal is this?" But instead I just went for it. Expecting the least expected so to say. And it actually worked out in my favor.

I wanted to interact with various spots within the line, rather than sticking to one particular place. First stop was the temple. Upon entering the temple gate, I quickly noticed the cranes were gone. The vans and the old men were gone. Well...there were still old men, and some old women. But today they threw in their 50 yen, claped their hands together, took a bow and began to pray. Never having done this myself, I also decided to step up to the plate and followed by example. I threw in my 10 yen, clapped my hands, bowed, closed my eyes, and began to pray. Pray for what? I dunno, but I did it nonetheless. With my eyes clothes, others would step up and throw in their money, and do exactly the same that I and previous visitors had done. After that experience, I noticed many others with flowers grabbed a bucket and laddle and filled it with water from the nearby pump. I have not had to pleasure of witnessing this, for there was construction during the days of my observations. They entered the side gate with their bucket and flowers, and proceeded to walk through what appeared to be a graveyard/memorial site. I did wish to do the same, but I did not have a dead loved one, at least not in Tokyo, and decided against it, for I saw it disrepectful to the dead and their families.

I continued walking down the line, the sculptor was not at his throne today. The glove was no longer on the ground. I almost walked past the bakery, but the smell grabbed me by the nosehairs and dragged me in. I bought a "hop chou a la creme" filled with a rich chilled custard which was very very very very very tasty. I mean yummy. Instead of the passerby, only familiar with the smell of the shop, I decided to become a customer, involving myself deeper into the sensory experience, which lead me to buy and taste one. Boy boy was it yummy.

I soon left the bakery and headed toward my final stop, of Patio Juban, right next to the Azabu-Juban station. I approached the racks of pottery while thinking of how I can interact with this space, to go from being merely an observer to becoming a part of it. I decided the best way is to become the customer. A flyer was posted advertising the "Kasama Stoneware Festival", a place where you can meet one of the 6 artists and buy their work. I began to browse through some of the items, interested by some, glancing over others. The prices seemed reasonable, but I didn't have much money to spend on pottery. I found a bowl of ceramic buttons, each for 200 yen, which I ended up buying. The artist came up to me and said "Hello," in very good English, which caught me off guard. I expected this interview to be very difficult, with an attempt at Japanese on my part. So with a sigh of relief I paid for the button. He then looked up to me and said, "If I may ask, what do you plan on using this for?" I told him that would turn it into a necklace. He then smiled and replied, "I do the same myself actually. Would you like some string with that?" We walked back to his work area as he unwound some thin brown string, streched it out, measured it, and cut it to an appropriate length. I thought this was a good time for me to ask him some questions about his work and I proceeded to do so. I asked him which work was his, and pointed out how fine and detailed some of his work was, some really beautiful pieces. I asked him how he mananged to impress such fine lines into the clay, and he gave me an interesting response. He told me that he uses bass guitar string, unwinds the wound string, and uses those thin strips of nickel and steel to make the impressions on the clay. Such fine, straight, and distinct lines really told me something about the care he puts into his work. He told me that this is his 3rd time doing a show in Azabu-Juban, to which he added, liked the area for there are many interesting people. He gave a slight chuckle when he said "interesting". I can't really tell if that's a good thing. He's doing this show with 5 other artists who are also contained within this cement block. He's worked with them before, but for the most part travels around the country with various pottery artists, staying for days in a particular area, and then moving on to the next place. I thanked him for the piece, shook his hand, and wished him luck with the rest of his show. He gave me his card and a thank you. I was on my merry way, with some experiences and evidence to show.

The Line: Day 2

The Line: Day 1

Despite my orignal intention to cover my neighborhood of Ontakesan for the 1st exercise, I discovered a place within the Minato-ku Ward, near the Azabu-juban station, that really captured my eyes and ears, leading me from one place to the next. I call this place "The Line" for lack of a better name, because my after setting sights on a particular temple, I was lead down the street to observe other interesting little areas, walking the line...shit, that's a name of that Johnny Cash movie...or Jackween Phoenix played Johnny Cash or something I forget. It would be easy for me to talk about one area in detail, but I feel that it is necessary for me briefly touch on these areas in short descriptive terms and sentences to perhaps give you a feel for the Line.

Upon walking down one of the many two-lane streets in Minato-ku, the first thing that catches you off guard is the empty gap within the monotonous rhythm of lofty apartment buildings and businesses. Within this gap contains a smooth road that leads a short distance to a set of stairs, which stack atop eachother leading to the temple gateway. A towering apartment complex can be found kilometers away from the temple, but seems to be hovering not far behind. Numerous people will walk up the road, up the temple steps and make a breif stop at the entrance of the temple. Middle-aged women, older men, and even an young male on a delivery bicycle took a couple of minutes out of their day to visit. Within the courtyard of the temple there prominently stands a tall yellow crane, it's arm outreaching toward the sky. A man in a yellow hard hat emerges from the bathroom, opens the door, and steps inside the crane. 2 gray haired men dig into their messy vans for various equipment and tools, then proceed to point and direct the direction of the crane. Two younger men with white cloth on their heads begin to move a small piece of machinery across the parking lot, as it continues to make noise and shake, slowly crawling like a minature military tank.

As I left the temple yard, I headed back to the entrance of the small road. I hear the "ping ping" sound of metal against metal. A man with light tan hat, goggles, and earplugs sits on his small stool while he faces a small mass of stone, hammering away at it with his chisel. Next to the one he's working on sits his model, a reference to the current piece in front of his eyes. The garage turned studio serves as his public work space, while pedistrians take a quick glance as to find the source of the rhythmic hammering. A man of the same age, with long gray hair and safari vest, walks inside giving the man a nod. He stops working for a minute for a brief word with this new man and then continues to hammer away.

Taking a look down the street you can see another open space. While walking this short distance to the end of the line, you are consumed by the sweet smell of freshly baked pastries. You see a lone pink glove on the ground next to the recyling bin. There's a monkey on a sign with his arms outreached for a hug. A bicylce with a BMW emblem. Upon reaching the end of the line, there is another open area, similar to a town square, a central focal piece complete with a statue, trees and plants, while roads wrap themselves around the rectangle. Today there are a number of men who have set up tables within this cement rectangle and are selling various plates, vases, soap dishes, all hand-crafted pottery. Atop a tagged stone slab sit small clay animals, not yet dry or baked, still soft as the clay it was made from. A long piece of wood serves as a small display stand for more clay animals, these ones baked, painted, and glazed. Fake plastic sushi are found on the serving dishes. Flowers and branches are in the vases and bowls. The men all have jobs to do. One man unwraps the items of their surrounding newspaper and places the newspaper into several milk crates. Another man, with cigarette in mouth, takes these items and sets them on the appropriate table. He takes a branch or twig and places them in the large cylindrical pot. Another man walks around pricing this items, placing small stickers along the inside of the bowl's wall, while another with a fanny pack and moustache monitors the whole area, assisting any potential buyers. These customers are mostly women. Women with daughters, women with sisters, and women with their husbands. These women who pick up the pieces, observing all sides of the item, and then pointing at another piece that interests them have been the customers so far. There is one more man, dissociated with the customers, who in the corner crouches down. There is a large mass of clay in front of him with a deep well in the middle. He takes a piece of newspaper, lights it on fire, and places it deep within the well of this clay. He adds more newspaper and begins to poke at it with a long wooden stick. Again he adds more newspaper and moves it around with the stick. A thick billow of smoke begins to pour out of the well as he proceeds to blow on the contained fire to keep it ablaze. Customers come and go. This man builds his fire. And the other men do their designated work.

Man Ers

The following is a post on manners:

In today's class, our guest speaker Julian Worrall gave us an breif yet indepth presentation on urban/public space, focusing on the Tokyo Subway System, the largest and most complex train system in the world. He touched on different topics where he explored the meanings behind station plaza monuments, the system as a whole, and the space and life within the individual train carriage. Here and toward the end we got into the disscussion of manners; manner posters promoting social virtue to prevent disturbance as well as the respect each person has for rules and manners. Every individual lives their life under the rules and regulations posted which provide for a obedient, non-violent, non-criminal society where each member police the actions of those around them. We sited the example of the un-sorted trash and how often times, neighbors will knock on your door telling you that it is unacceptable and must be sorted, because those are simply the rules. Very little social interaction takes place between strangers, especially within the subway system.

But it's interesting that we talked about manners and self-inforcement because on my way home after class, I witnessed my first examples of civilian police action. While standing on the platform in Ookayama wating for my Ikegami train to arrive, I took notice to a young hooligan throwing a piece of trash on the ground, attemping to throw it onto the tracks. Now I have not seen a single piece of trash on the ground let alone witness the young scuttlebutt throw something on the ground. 15 seconds later, an business man in his 50s went up to the young yahoo and told him to pick it up. With rosy cheeks like that of a freshly spanken babe, he shamefully picked up the piece of garbage and put it into his pocket.

Another instance was while I was standing near the courtesy area, where cell phones are to be turned off, and some young criminal was playing on his cell phone, ear buds in his ears. The lady next to him aggressively tapped him on the arm and pointed at the sign reading "Cell Phone=OFF" he didn't understand what she meant because he wasn't talking on it. She tapped him again and pointed at the sign. And like the milk soaken young ankle-biter, he took his ear buds out and closed his phone. For the rest of the ride he stared off to the seat in front of him, looking real sad. He has been removed from the internal space which many communters turn towards when they read their manga, listen to their music, or text on their keitai. He has been awaken from this fastasy world and been placed into the reality of the physical external world, a boy sitting on the train waiting for his stop. More shocking than the rule enforcing citizens was the look on his face when transfering from the internal space that makes one feel happy and safe into a reality that many daily communters do not wish to face. It's the constant reminder of where they are. That they do this everyday. It's a routine for this student, going to school in the morning, coming home at night, on the same train, everyday. And it scares the beejeezus out of him...not really, he's just is real pissed at this lady.