Friday, November 28, 2008

Winter is coming

It appears there is nothing that puts me more off a film than having it begin with Keira Knightley, looking even more anorexic than usually, trying to sing erotically, followed by a close-up of Scarlett Johannson's mouth trying to exhale cigarette smoke erotically.
British films are really at their best when they do not try to imitate Hollywood and instead use their typical wit and charm, with actors that look like real people (with wrinkles and all).
(see Plots with a View for a great example of such films)


Some more stuff from the recent live-drawing sessions. We finally had a male model, and I quickly realised that drawing him isn't any different from drawing her. In the end, they're all objects consisting of light and shadow and are mostly, sadly, objecitfied by me.

We also did some movement studies, which I hate, hate, hate with a passion. How are you supposed to find an accurate line if the line changes all the time? (And the light and shadow changes, too.)

Saturday, November 08, 2008

Evolution is Science Fiction

I read Serenity by Keith DeCandido, after the film of the same name, based on the best SciFi-series ever. The novel follows the series and the film very, very closely. This is a shame, because I liked the style of the author and he seems like someone who could bring neat additions to novels that follow films. Content-wise, the book doesn't add anything if you've seen the series/film, and it even seems awkward if you've read the unauthorized essays, because some of the character's thoughts don't add up (others, rarely, explain certain events better, which is what such a novel should do, in my book).
Novels that are fashioned after films usually disappoint me. It's rare that they bring originality into the plot, often because the writers are simply not allowed to think for themselves and expand the verse - the creator's fear of having someone else kill their darlings.
(A fear that may be understandable if you know certain types of fanfiction.)


There's this theory that was apparently very prominent in the 19th century. It describes the existence of "a racial or animal memory throughout the evolutionary process - a subliminal knowledge of generic past experience in each individual creature at her particular level of developed consciousness."
Today you call it basic instinct, I guess. Still, something in me refuses to accredit this theory. It seems weird to believe that, if you speak in theological terms, some memory or, rather, being of Lilith and Eva should be in me (given they existed, but we're talking theoretically here, so that's not the point). That all the past that there is in one's bloodline could be summoned up if you reach a certain level of consciousness, from the oppression in patriarchy back to the times when there were matriarchates.
We're more than the sum of our parts, true, but are we that much more?


I love this song by Tori Amos.

It reminds me of the time when I went to a ball and couldn't really relate to any of the people there, so I just went around trying to smile happily, while I was utterly bored inside. At some point a guy told me "You smile nicely, but you don't talk at all", which kinda ruined my attempt to fit it.
And this is what the song is to me.