Today, I was talking to my supervisor about Marc Ague's non-places. She said that this concept according to him is a 'site' which is physically lack of identity, neither one nor another. However, what I would like to do is to extend this objective 'non-place' to a subjective 'non-place' feeling, which refers to a sentimental carried by any individual within him/herself that motivate him/her to interpret this 'place' as 'non-place'. One problem I found here is what is the source of the subjective 'non-place' feeling? If like I will basically argue in my screening nation paper, is the temporary financial contractual relationship undermines the 'places' which makes them a 'non-place' for the users of the space. Despite that, what else? My supervisor suggested me not too much focus on the bigger picture, say the 'post-s'. Well, I'm still afraid I will lack the social background if it hangs too much in the air. We talked a lot about the undefinable places with its openness. Suddenly, a name jumped out of my mouth 'DOREEN MASSEY'. Then, the turning of the talk came. After this name, we went on the endless philosophical, anthropological, psychological talks. After I spoke of my worry of whether my dissertation would not too much cinematic but too cultural or anthropological, I definitely don't know how we came to talk about psychology, and definitely have no clue how I should mention 'LACAN'. Then, later came the enunciation, the utterance, the unconsciousness, the temporal and spatial lag in-between, (yes, 'in-between' is another term dominating our talk) that initiates the desire for the subject of enunciation to look back and generate the latter utterance. Though somehow I haven't quite yet establish this between what I am trying to say, the subjective non-place feelings, but what I am 100% sure is WHY AM I SETTING MYSELF SUCH A MISSION IMPOSSIBLE!
I have to say this was a really nice talk cause when both of us expressed the feeling of being an immigrant, or to be precise and safe, a frequent traveler, this feeling of hardly belonging to a certain place, possibility to be easily affected by the new milieu, the readiness and willing to change accompanying with the resistance to change. This is the new life of flowing populations. This is the globalization for us, or at least for me.
After all, I don't want to read Lacan, Doreen Massey, Michel de Certeau, but now it seems I have to in order to graduate... My life in the next 6 months is doomed....
Tuesday 31 March 2009
Monday 30 March 2009
Three sentences - One dialogue
The other day during my space/place class, the lady asked us think of a place which I visited a long time ago, and try to describe by the smell, colors, and some decor. Immediately I thought of that place which I have in my heart somehow unconsciously as the place I would definitely long for but never will go back. Interestingly enough, now I noticed it is a 'non-place' as Marc Auge would term it, a place we share the same but temporary identity as we are in transit from a departure to an immediate future. As I was writing down the words, definitely before which I picture myself again in the place, but this time with a deliberate sense to discern or to recollect the details of the place and the hypnotic experience given out by them. And suddenly, I almost burst into tears, and I found myself invaded by the most clear and vivid memory, or rather de javu ever, as if I have leaped out my body from 'here' and 'now' back to 'there' and 'then', and relive that static historical moment in a fleeting moment. Than I was called back to the task.
She then asked us to think of one person from now who we do not have particular feelings, neither love nor disgust, and to place the one in the place we thought of before, and picture him some action, say what he is wearing, and what he is doing. I thought of you, but no, I realized it would be against the rule. So, I picture the one who looks like you, but in the same cloth you were wearing that day, the same travel bag on back, and the same gesture standing in front of the window, looking into the distance.
Then, as the instruction goes, two years passed and I return to this place. Quite unlike what the lady told us that the place has changed significantly, I confidently and firmly insisted in my description that this place doesn't change in its milieu, other than the absence of the Other. She asked us to think of a sound, belonging to the place, or better indigenous to this place, and describe its quality. Somehow, I found my description is rather tampered with my complex feelings toward this place, and confused myself with its authentic quality.
Finally, she asked us to represent this person in the place in the two years after, but rather a gesture of the one approaching me. And then a conversation takes place between us. This person asked my a question; my response to his question; and last his response to my response.
I found myself writing three lines as follow:
TOM: Are you still that crazy?
ME: Why don't you find it out yourself?
TOM: ...
Time hasn't healed me over, has it?
She then asked us to think of one person from now who we do not have particular feelings, neither love nor disgust, and to place the one in the place we thought of before, and picture him some action, say what he is wearing, and what he is doing. I thought of you, but no, I realized it would be against the rule. So, I picture the one who looks like you, but in the same cloth you were wearing that day, the same travel bag on back, and the same gesture standing in front of the window, looking into the distance.
Then, as the instruction goes, two years passed and I return to this place. Quite unlike what the lady told us that the place has changed significantly, I confidently and firmly insisted in my description that this place doesn't change in its milieu, other than the absence of the Other. She asked us to think of a sound, belonging to the place, or better indigenous to this place, and describe its quality. Somehow, I found my description is rather tampered with my complex feelings toward this place, and confused myself with its authentic quality.
Finally, she asked us to represent this person in the place in the two years after, but rather a gesture of the one approaching me. And then a conversation takes place between us. This person asked my a question; my response to his question; and last his response to my response.
I found myself writing three lines as follow:
TOM: Are you still that crazy?
ME: Why don't you find it out yourself?
TOM: ...
Time hasn't healed me over, has it?
Time flies forward 1hour
同学，请按计划行事,，完成任务，一定的！
明日早起，必须的！
essay outline, emailS, ticket print, UoB cup, etc.
忙不完的事儿，居然时间进步一小时，25变成了23的感觉，这个世界啊...
明日早起，必须的！
essay outline, emailS, ticket print, UoB cup, etc.
忙不完的事儿，居然时间进步一小时，25变成了23的感觉，这个世界啊...
Tuesday 24 March 2009
In This World
It is a docudrama by Michael Winterbottom. I primarily watched it for the inspiration for my other essay on THE SILENCE OF LORNA. This film turns out to be really impressive and powerful in the way it draws spectators intensely on the character's fate as their bodies move through the landscape.
This can be said to be a rather simple film about two Afghan refugees originally living at the camp at Peshawar, Pakistan decide to go to London through the trade with people smugglers. On the way, one of the guys died because of illness, and the younger boy made his way to London on his own, and found a job at their compatriot's restaurant. On the other hand, this film is extremely complicated, especially in terms of it's composition. Mostly filmed with the hand-held camera, the film delivers a sense of documentary while depicting the journey life of the two diaspor-to-be. In order to cross the border and prevent being caught by the patrols, they have to hide in various kinds of trucks, some of which are for shipping fruits, some for animals, some for other goods. People are hidden in those commodities, which are produced in those poorer countries or regions to be sold and communed in a relatively wealthier countries and regions. Behind the flow of goods and money, are the flow of population. This is the very truth of demography nowadays. Once they arrive at a new stop, they only have one contact number which they can rely on in order to move further, and they have to pay to move on. Thus, the human relationship is totally reduced to a fragile and economical one, without any guarantee. As well, in order to get away with custom investigation at the border, those fled refugees have to abandon their identity at all: they have to change the currency, change their cloth, take off their caps, which are deemed to be shit, and they also have to learn some simple language, even the English is not a safe strategy. However, there is one thing they cannot abandon: their religion. The film shows the older guy takes the advantage of a street platform, and pray to the east where their God resides.
Though a docudrama most likely without the staging and much depends on the improvisation, these authentic and natural mise-en-scene renders the film a heavy tone on the immigration issue facing the world and the core-periphery relation nowadays. (The moving landscape is another element needs to be addressed)
Perhaps, it could be one of my dissertation films.
This can be said to be a rather simple film about two Afghan refugees originally living at the camp at Peshawar, Pakistan decide to go to London through the trade with people smugglers. On the way, one of the guys died because of illness, and the younger boy made his way to London on his own, and found a job at their compatriot's restaurant. On the other hand, this film is extremely complicated, especially in terms of it's composition. Mostly filmed with the hand-held camera, the film delivers a sense of documentary while depicting the journey life of the two diaspor-to-be. In order to cross the border and prevent being caught by the patrols, they have to hide in various kinds of trucks, some of which are for shipping fruits, some for animals, some for other goods. People are hidden in those commodities, which are produced in those poorer countries or regions to be sold and communed in a relatively wealthier countries and regions. Behind the flow of goods and money, are the flow of population. This is the very truth of demography nowadays. Once they arrive at a new stop, they only have one contact number which they can rely on in order to move further, and they have to pay to move on. Thus, the human relationship is totally reduced to a fragile and economical one, without any guarantee. As well, in order to get away with custom investigation at the border, those fled refugees have to abandon their identity at all: they have to change the currency, change their cloth, take off their caps, which are deemed to be shit, and they also have to learn some simple language, even the English is not a safe strategy. However, there is one thing they cannot abandon: their religion. The film shows the older guy takes the advantage of a street platform, and pray to the east where their God resides.
Though a docudrama most likely without the staging and much depends on the improvisation, these authentic and natural mise-en-scene renders the film a heavy tone on the immigration issue facing the world and the core-periphery relation nowadays. (The moving landscape is another element needs to be addressed)
Perhaps, it could be one of my dissertation films.
Sunday 22 March 2009
Departures
I think it should be said to be a good film, even if not an excellent one. It is a story of people fighting with dying memory, if not so much superficially dealing with death. The protagonist had a rather unhappy childhood as his father abandoned the family for another woman. His career is also not a promising or steady one. Being forced to give up the cello, he took his wife went back to the little town of his youth, and finally got a job as decorating the dead people. As the story evolve, he overcomes the disgust first felt when the job begins, and then moves to form a kinda of empathy with the dead and their families, and finally, he learns the forgiveness and went to decorate his father's dead body. In the parallel of the protagonist's mental changes, are that of his wife, and the normal conception of the job prevailed in the town. In the end, the dead of an unfaithful father is constituted by the coming of the new life.
For me, it is too well-structured, and the narrative advances in a reasonable, somehow predictable way. However, what moves me is the slow rhythm it employs to allow sufficient time for the story and changes of characters to be convincing, and the audience enough time to contemplate. In particular, the repetitive and detailed description of the decoration rituals throughout the whole film transforms it into a ritual itself. The moment when the old man presses the button to light the fire to burn the body, I crashed. It brought up the memory of my childhood when I witnessed the burning of my grandpa's body. It was the first time that death came so close to me. It was strange that the two feelings are different. At that time, I cried mostly because of the sudden loss I felt in my life, and the sadness of not seeing a close relative any more. It was much more like a feeling can be easily alienated. In comparison, this time, the push of button brought back to me a sense of desperation, a certain sense of fear, and at the same time, more closeness to a world awaiting me, as if I can almost foresee my own future, the emptiness of my bed, my room, and the ashes of my lost physicality. But above all, I felt the longing for being with my parents. Their absence, or rather my absence, will never be compensated, or made up for. It will be a loss forever.
Too much off the point.
That's it.
For me, it is too well-structured, and the narrative advances in a reasonable, somehow predictable way. However, what moves me is the slow rhythm it employs to allow sufficient time for the story and changes of characters to be convincing, and the audience enough time to contemplate. In particular, the repetitive and detailed description of the decoration rituals throughout the whole film transforms it into a ritual itself. The moment when the old man presses the button to light the fire to burn the body, I crashed. It brought up the memory of my childhood when I witnessed the burning of my grandpa's body. It was the first time that death came so close to me. It was strange that the two feelings are different. At that time, I cried mostly because of the sudden loss I felt in my life, and the sadness of not seeing a close relative any more. It was much more like a feeling can be easily alienated. In comparison, this time, the push of button brought back to me a sense of desperation, a certain sense of fear, and at the same time, more closeness to a world awaiting me, as if I can almost foresee my own future, the emptiness of my bed, my room, and the ashes of my lost physicality. But above all, I felt the longing for being with my parents. Their absence, or rather my absence, will never be compensated, or made up for. It will be a loss forever.
Too much off the point.
That's it.
Wednesday 4 March 2009
Stream-of-Conscioiuness (1)
终于有一天没有去一个庞大的聚会，反而回来和朋友煮煮饭，聊聊天，就两个人的感觉蛮好的。他带来好甜的巧克力，但是我们还是吃光光了，因为今天下午突然sleet，所以一切暖身的东西都百无禁忌。
突然想离开某种‘众多人注视’的眼光，安静地享受一个下午的阳光。请不要和我谈论未来，谈论电影，谈论任何人的爱情，也最好不要谈论友情，我不想被复杂的不明不白搅乱了计划的安逸。请不要模仿我发出的声响，不要质问我为什么会神经质的丈量，也不要给我滔滔不绝地灌输美国电影，更不要问我来自中国那个地方。为什么这个世界有如此多的问题，而你们认为我神秘到你们无法理解，却还要我去解决你们的疑问。朋友总是说：“You don't have to, if you don't want to.” 事实上，事情的两面不是如此简单，并非不是正就是负。在硬币的两面间有一个夹层，可以让边界模糊，让欲望喘息且从而使人迟疑犹豫。
有那么一段时间，总觉得自己应该着手做点什么，为了能更‘好’的活下去（‘好’的定义是因人而异的）。于是不停地写东西，写啊写，改啊改，终于决定在某一天停止无止尽的修改，把它交给了某个朋友，说从此以后我不再修改任何一个字，直到他让我做。（这样的计划是自己的想法，他人是不明白的）而事实上，我总是在寻找一个如此能让我停下脚步的路标，写着：“这就是你的终点站”，好让我做得一切都显得是被期待的，有目的的，最后是可以被评估的，虽然我不一定期待评估后的评语。
我其实只是想念所有对于神秘东方的想象和怀念（nostalgia）：沙漠，楼兰，阿拉，马可波罗是我对于中国的思念。
突然想离开某种‘众多人注视’的眼光，安静地享受一个下午的阳光。请不要和我谈论未来，谈论电影，谈论任何人的爱情，也最好不要谈论友情，我不想被复杂的不明不白搅乱了计划的安逸。请不要模仿我发出的声响，不要质问我为什么会神经质的丈量，也不要给我滔滔不绝地灌输美国电影，更不要问我来自中国那个地方。为什么这个世界有如此多的问题，而你们认为我神秘到你们无法理解，却还要我去解决你们的疑问。朋友总是说：“You don't have to, if you don't want to.” 事实上，事情的两面不是如此简单，并非不是正就是负。在硬币的两面间有一个夹层，可以让边界模糊，让欲望喘息且从而使人迟疑犹豫。
有那么一段时间，总觉得自己应该着手做点什么，为了能更‘好’的活下去（‘好’的定义是因人而异的）。于是不停地写东西，写啊写，改啊改，终于决定在某一天停止无止尽的修改，把它交给了某个朋友，说从此以后我不再修改任何一个字，直到他让我做。（这样的计划是自己的想法，他人是不明白的）而事实上，我总是在寻找一个如此能让我停下脚步的路标，写着：“这就是你的终点站”，好让我做得一切都显得是被期待的，有目的的，最后是可以被评估的，虽然我不一定期待评估后的评语。
我其实只是想念所有对于神秘东方的想象和怀念（nostalgia）：沙漠，楼兰，阿拉，马可波罗是我对于中国的思念。
Sunday 1 March 2009
THIS thing is IMPOSSIBLE
Well, I finally realize it is impossible for every reason I can come up with! It is just out of question, not even for the similarity, but my addiction is killing me which is not I can afford.
I'm sorry Sophia, this is gonna end by yourself!
Smiley S
I'm sorry Sophia, this is gonna end by yourself!
Smiley S
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