The Pearl Fisher

Latest Digest to be read in reverse

Thursday, 11 February 2010

Lost post

I spent twenty minutes writing a post about my visit to Islington Mill today. Just as I added the last picture the screen went blank. All was lost. Too tired now to write more. I am left with a list of people mentioned seen and met.
Messrs Dave Griffiths & Andy Bracey (many thanks for everything)
Young Master Bracey and his car
Tomas Harold (thanks for lunch)
Jeremy Deller (nice jumper)
Lesley Young (I think)
Bill
Rachel Goodyear
Deaf taxi driver
Blind taxi driver

The Count of Monte Cristo

At 1130 four artists (Annabel Dover, Hayley Lock, Mimei Thompson and I) were huddled together in the V&A café scribbling things and talking. Being largely from the country we had barely managed to negotiate the new multi-queue system unharmed. In actual fact one of our number had managed to drop their tray, cake, cups and all onto a (luckily) booted foot. We had wrangled with the hard-faced waitresses (clearly used to more vociferous complainers than we) but without satisfaction. So in a none too secret (or dark) corner we began our meeting. We were there to put together ideas for a new show, to come up with a title and a rough plan outlining how we should proceed. I began with what I hoped would be a rousing speech outlining the great obstacles ahead, the enemies we must overcome and the weapons at our disposal. We discussed many things: possible venues for our work (mostly linked to places each of us would like to visit); people who could help us (some practical, mostly fanciful), but most importantly what the show would “be about”. This is a nasty phrase but as each of us hedged around our interests we came up with much common ground. Tales of Darkness, treasure, boyish adventure, secrecy and revenge seemed favourite.

This hopelessly un-cabal-like meeting was hours ago. Now I am thinking of Lubinville on a Virgin train travelling north. It is painfully over heated in carriage C. The passengers slump flushed and languid and I find it hard to concentrate. I have been watching a BBC3 documentary on the Vampire and have decided that this is definitely the final nail in the coffin for the genre.

‘Gone With The Wind’ is a colourful film. The overture, a painted intertitle, is resolutely still for an absurd length of time. So still in fact that I twice checked the DVD for scratches.
I can’t recall the plot this morning only the painted backdrops, flounces and the colour, too much colour, colour so dark and rich it tired my eyes and I thought of Des Esseintes’ bejewelled tortoise. Here I have to admit this surfeit of polychromasic sensation was at least partially self inflicted as I had been fiddling with my projector and had managed to boost all channels to ridiculous levels.

This morning the road to London seems bloodless in comparison.

Sunday, 7 February 2010

“Lord of Misrule”

Christopher Lee notes that he was conceived at the same time that Murnau was making “Nosferatu”. He describes “The Scars of Dracula” (the only Hammer Dracula I haven’t seen) as “truly feeble” and a quick flick through the illustrations remind me that, like his dear friend Mr Cushing, he too was in a “Star Wars” film titled “The Phantom Menace”. Closing my eyes In langourous ecstasy I enjoy this toothsome serendipity.

Saturday, 6 February 2010

Letter recieved regarding sideburns and performance art

Hi Alex,

I was just watching a really bad vampire film called Vlad on Zone Horror, but I’ve turned it off now, supposedly in favour of sleep.
Been enjoying your blog, though sorry to hear you’re not well, hope you feel better soon! I’ve finally started making myself keep one, in the hope it will better enable me to string a sentence together when people ask me what I’ve been working on… thought my latest entry might appeal to your dislike of performance art: http://snailsong.blogspot.com/2010/02/de-tangling-…
While I tried to be suitably diplomatic in my blog about it, I actually found myself reminded of why I hate art sometimes! There was plenty of very dislikeable performance art there, including one extremely cringey piece involving a naked man psychoanalysing himself in a mirror. There was some stuff that was ok, but it was generally not the happiest occasion for me!
There is at least one other performance art thing i’ve agreed to take part in coming up, but that should be more fun. I hope so anyway!

Oh, I was also going to tell you, I went to a birthday party where it was obligatory to wear sideburns, as the host’s impressive sideburns are his trademark. Mine were made of card and stuck on.

Take care,

Sonya x

Miss Brown and the Phantom

Miss Brown spends the morning cleaning her rooms. Below I lie in bed thinking about yesterday’s events. In Ipswich returning to unlock my bicycle, I came across a man admiring it. It is true that the Phantom takes on new life in the sunlight, it is a handsome creature. The man, in his late thirties, with a Canadian accent asked me if I would consider selling it. I replied that in all conscience I could not as I loved it too dearly. For his part he seemed to take my answer well and wished me good fortune. My companion informed me that she had observed a great number of men of varying ages looking longingly at my bicycle.

Today in my reverie, I have begun to think about the need for profit. Perhaps I shall make some brothers and sisters for the Phantom.

In the evening my companion and I went to the Town Hall Galleries to see a show by Simon Liddiment and a fabulous display of work by some of my students from Suffolk New College. I smiled with surprise upon entering the gallery as the redoubtable Mr Liddiment had produced a show of what looked like East Anglian landscapes; some snowy, some ploughed even one which appeared tinct with a ruddy evening light. Ofcourse they were no such thing, it was all very interesting. I am sorry to report that, as usual, I had soon drunk too much and was reclining on a fortuitous sofa answering questions about the intended extent of my sideburns.

The virgin, the glass and the glitterball Last night I went through the footage of my Pepper’s Ghost experiment projecting it on the wall of my lodgings. Luckily it was a silent version a boon which enabled us to listen in on the activities of my upstairs neighbour. Miss Brown had another visitor last night, another heavy footed male this time with a propensity for loud television programmes. I was nearly on the point of getting annoyed at the interruption when there was a scream, silence and some furniture moving. After that, all was mercifully quiet. I made my companion sit through the screening several times to ascertain its effect leaving her to watch it alone while I bathed. After returning from my ablutions (a long restorative bath and a little detective fiction) I found her asleep with the film still playing. I hope this is a good sign. In anticipation that it is I have included a few stills below.

Thursday, 4 February 2010After many a hiatus I made it to my studio today for a serious day’s work. I made a tiny lit sculpture of a scooter stuck on some flowing stuff and another of a young woman sinking into glowing stuff. The Pepper’s Ghost films also went surprisingly well although I do manage to get into some painful positions while filming. This time I was in a tight crouch, my knee burning with strain, holding an aged and very hot slide projector at an awkward angle. After some minutes however I forgot the pain in my knee as I was momentarily distracted by my smouldering leg. The films seemed to turn out tolerably well.

It has been a long battle but now, thankfully, both my companion and myself seem to be out of danger. Barring another dreadful relapse we should soon be ready to resume our adventures. While bedridden I have been taking stock of my unfulfilled ideas and have resolved to spend some time at my new studio finally making some work. I am aware that my plans may come to nothing and many of the ideas feel to me weak and abortive but if allow my inertia to go on much longer there will be no films for Whitstable at all.

The animation of the dead spaceman is going very slowly, I find myself daunted by the mountain of drawing needed for an animation that may not satisfy. The original footage which I filmed from a projection on my bedroom wall is so beautiful I am finding it hard to believe that animating it has any value. I have never previously presented ‘found’ footage as my own and as I have in the past had great trouble with music copyright I am concerned about the legalities of doing so. I have resolved to make a small test animation of a few repeating frames which should at least nip my worries in the bud.

But this piece is not for Whitstable. The Vampire film I have been making in my lodgings seems lifeless and beyond hope; I do not have the energy to go on with it at present. Instead I have instructed my companion to attempt some magic tricks which will be performed at secret locations in Whitstable upon our visit in March. In my studio I also intend to make a number of short films of objects using the “Pepper’s Ghost” illusion. So far I have chosen, water pouring into a glass, a glitter ball (such a common object in contemporary art) and a religious icon. Hopefully these and my putative film of the enigmatic Mr Bown will produce at least one worthwhile piece.

Then there is this blog. I have in the past turned these writings into books, cheaply produced populist fictions with shiny covers. My companion recently told me of a book bound in a murder’s skin; his ear protruding from its front cover, this idea excites me. However, I am uncertain as to how I might locate a bookbinder who works with such materials. Craftsmen are so hard to find these days. This also brings up the vexing problem of cost, how much would a run of a hundred say skin bound books be?