Ganz on lens based writing

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Suspense by Lois Webber & Phillips Smalley (1913)

 

With the aid of last week’s reading by Adam Ganz, we are looking to explore lens based writing. Ganz revisits its inception by speaking of past practice from Galileo, Darwin, Defoe, Cook, to contemporaries like Freedberg, Leeuwenhoek and Hochschild. This paper alines  these scholars and scientists with a notion that the lens is the yardstick for concise explanations devoid of ornamental and abstruse language (as beautifully put by Robert Boyle) (p. 11).

I am especially interested in Ganz’s attempt to codify lens based writing and its affordances. Below, I have somewhat paraphrased his modes in order to make  sense of them myself, they are as follows;

Prosthetic: the heightened perception of an object through extensions of a sense, such as a telescope for visual or speaker for audio enhancement

Historic: relaying what has been perceived before should a willing observer be unable

Analytic: cut and dry description of what is perceived

Aesthetic: viewing and framing simultaneously

Diachronic: the observation of the effects of time

Scopophilic: offering voyeuristic pleasure from examination (p.10).

For me, this made the art of lens based writing clear-cut and easier to understand and thus apply to my own practice.

However, also within Ganz’s text, I became somewhat confused by Viktor Shklovsky’s take on ‘the purpose of art’ and the defamiliarisation of the observed (p.19). Shklovsky’s factive, definitive language on such a nuanced topic as art, made me question whether this entry is a useful contribution to his argument or not. I would be interested to see what others took from this passage.

Though, instead of getting too caught up in this, I moved on with the presumption that Shklovsky was merely highlighting an artist’s ability to alter one’s perception.

Overall, this paper has given me a new appreciation for the scripts and science journals that I have read throughout my life. It has sparked a new enthusiasm for lens based writing, in particular, for the scripts that we will produce in class. It has given me some new tools to construct my ‘world’ for the next assignment, specifically, the notion of scopophilic writing which I feel could aid me in achieving visceral impact.

Ganz, A 2013, ‘To make you see’: Screenwriting, description and the ‘lens-based’ tradition, Journal of Screenwriting, vol. 4, no. 1, pp. 7-24.

My idea for a world of psychological drama

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In this post, I’m hoping to deliver the sense of my world, the aim is to make it as visceral as it can be.

I wish you the best of luck should you choose to sit through Annal Nathrakh’s Pandemonic Hyperblast, furthermore, if you’re a musician and you choose to attempt to play it… you are a freak!

Hats off.

The Script

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Attached to this post is the first instalment of my dark adaptation Treehorn. It is of the moment when Beecroft, the story’s protagonist, and Harvey, a pivotal character, first meet on the grounds of Hazel’s Estate. This scene is intended to function as the beginning of Beecroft and Harvey’s friendship.

Within this sequence, I have attempted to address issues of mental health, human intimacy and  social acceptance all in the backdrop of a lush green garden which, in this world, is a luxury that only the wealthiest can acquire.

What I think works in this piece, is the protagonist’s shift in emotion. He begins with rage and defeat but then concludes his arc with hope. I also find Harvey interesting and can almost envisage his jocular jovial manner,  though, he is probably understated in this scene.

This script could be improved further with more set detail. Hazel’s Estate should be opulent and teeming with useless ornamental trinkets that overtly emphasise wealth and social importance. I also feel that the title of this piece should be changed to Beecroft which apparently means ‘bee farm’ in Middle English. I envisaged that our protagonist’s thoughts would sound like a busy beehive — hence the reason for Beecroft’s name.

Treehorn-1is0v0v

Muqabala Muqabala!

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Today we began viewing media assets in the look to giving our classmates the sense of our world. The most profound and memorable, I felt, was Jen’s presentation of Shankar Shanmugam’s Muqabala Muqabala Kadhalan video (1994).

This Hindi piece, as well as broaching poignant themes, explicitly subverted Western ideologies which was a refreshing change from the subsequent videos presented… mine especially.

It made me want to explore Hindi media further.

‘What an elephant isn’t’

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In a 1991 lecture, actor and comedian John Cleese states that, “I always find that if two (or more) of us throw ideas backwards and forwards I get to more interesting and original places than I could have ever have gotten to on my own”. Although this is a powerful statement, I kind of feel like Cleese is preaching to the converted somehow. It resonated with me far less than other moments in the speech. Though not because I didn’t whole heartedly agree with it, but because I feel as though collaboration is innate. Further, the passage where Cleese describes ‘what an elephant isn’t’ (03:36) took my thinking into far deeper and more interesting places than collaboration.

For instance, collaboration has been the cornerstone of my creative existence! For as long as I can remember, the notion of bouncing ideas off a willing friend or associate has led to some of the biggest accomplishments of my life. Through attending university, team work is as much a prerequisite as it is a necessity, be it academically or socially.

Just this morning, I ran into a buddy and class mate Brydan who roused me from my morning, sleep-with-my-eyes-open-keypad-mash at the RMIT Student Hub. The interaction was social until it soon turned into an invaluable meeting that would significantly enhance my assignment and the way I think about writing character

At the time, a tiny fraction of my brain that was awake was attempting to ascertain why Final Draft was exporting unreadable .sex files as opposed to PDF’s. Brydan offered some advice on the issue and at last! A PDF was produced revealing the first pages of my script. He then asked if he could read it and without hesitation, I handed him my computer so that he could view the page on the screen.

After thoroughly reading my short script, ‘Buddy’ Brydan discovered an important aspect to one of my characters that I hadn’t (and probably wouldn’t have) noticed. Through profiling the character Treehorn’s socio-economic status, we worked out that he was from a wealthier family than first thought. Brydan deduced this by noting that in the script, Treehorn had had a gardener working on his parents property in the past which therefore implies affluence as groundskeepers are costly. Brydan quizzed me on this and as I responded to Brydan’s query, Treehorn changed. Not into a different character, but rather into an enriched version of what I had already created.

And there you have it, through collaboration new layers have formed opening potential pathways for further narrative. But this is just one example of a collaboration! I feel as though collaborations such as this one happen all the time. What I think Cleese is doing well in his lecture, is instilling common sense. I feel as humans, we have an innate urge to collaborate which is possibly why we’re so glued to social media but I digress.

What I found most interesting about Cleese’s lecture was the deduction of what creativity isn’t rather than what it is. “It’s easier to say what creativity isn’t. A bit like the Sculptor, who when asked, how he had sculpted a very fine elephant, explained that he’d taken a big block of marble, and then knocked away all the bits that didn’t look like an elephant”  (03:36). This statement reminded me of the world that conceptual sculptor Rachel Whiteread forms in her exhibitions. Whiteread creates giant plaster casts of empty space. This concept of envisaging negative space, I believe, could allow people to get out of their heads, fret less about the unknown and stay true to the present and in turn themselves.

Though, as I am still exploring the affordances of such existential thought, nay… as I am still baffled with such existential thought, I decided to spare myself the brain-melt and delegate the  excursion to my characters. They can be the ones to explore this, somewhat Cartesian, thought labyrinth like Guinea Pigs that are alive but only on the page. If my character Treehorn applies the thought of negative space, to defuse his disturbing, turbulent, mercurial thoughts to calm the storm that rages within him, perhaps we will be graced with a blissful leitmotif that balances out the story’s overall carnage. Otherwise, there’s just no relief.

Overall, Cleese’s statement has contributed to the expansion of my creative thinking and could potentially influence significant components of the world that I hope to create.

– Cleese, J 1991, A lecture on creativity, https://vimeo.com/18913413//.

– Parry, F 1971, The Shrinking of Treehorn, Holiday House Publishing.

– Whiteread, R (last accessed 23/3/2017) – http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artists/rachel-whiteread-2319

A sound study of Jacques Tati’s Playtime

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After viewing Billy Wilder’s The Apartment (1960) in class, I recently revisited Tati’s epic 1967 film Playtime to unpack the uses, possible sources and intentions of the sounds. What I discovered was a hyperreal post-synched sound that gave me the sense of a modern day detachment of human intimacy.

I also noticed that, throughout the interior scenes of the film, there is a constant electrical buzz. This buzz reminds me of the sound of a an old single coiled electric guitar. This could be layered with a secondary hum though, having been recorded as a mono signal, there is only so far this layering could be pushed.

In a slapstick and typically Tati-esque sequence, the hyper-accentuated noise of a belching chair offers a comedic interlude where a piece of slick modern furniture is reduced to nothing more than a fart joke. It is as if Tati is speaking directly to those who submit to ostentatious yet fundamental items, it is as if he is imploring them, and all viewers, to not take themselves too seriously.

The non-diegetic music by Francis Lemarque reminds the mainstream viewer to stay focused and not be marginalised by Tati’s highly esoteric themes and subtle in-jokes.

The overall intention with the sound seems to deliver the sense of ubiquitous faulty gadgets. They invade the viewer’s aural space making us feel claustrophobic, alone and out of our depth.

One can’t help but acknowledge the film’s prescience. Playtime’s use of sound has us feel as though we are rats in the wheel of an ever growing machine that is bigger than all of us. Therefore, I’m hoping to produce a piece of audio visual media that applies the same themes of detachment and hyperreality as I believe it is just as relevant today.

Tati, J 1967, Playtime, Bernard Maurice.

A photo to set the tone

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I found the linked photo in my soon-to-be-deleted-junkyard-of-digital-detritus folder and I thought that it could contribute to the tone of my world. I treated the photo with a mawky but pretty filter on Instagram to emphasise the dark foreboding feel which is appropriate for the establishing shot of Treehorn’s neighbourhood.

Treehorn, a shrinking character in a short kids story by Florence Parry (1971), is my protagonist in an adaptation that I have been working on since I was inspired in our first class. My interpretation of Treehorn’s character, is one that is sinking into self loathing and addiction and perceives himself to be ‘shrinking’ though no one listens or cares. By extension, Treehorn’s paralysing mental subordination has seen him fall victim to the ruthless and predatory H who will use Treehorn for labour, sex and even sadomasochism.

The Treehorn concept came about after jamming on a class activity where we were asked to state what we hated and what we loved, then, we were to question who would love what we hated.

The character profile that emerged from ‘a person who loved what I hated’ became a ruthless, corporate, sadist whose relentless ambition would have them stop at nothing until they had consumed everything in their path.

Aside from Macbeth, I couldn’t quite think of a person with such vicious tenacity. Therefore, I had to delved into stories from my childhood of which one such story was The Shrinking of Treehorn by Florence Parry (1971). The moral of Parry’s story was that all people need to follow through tasks until the end, even if those tasks are boring.

With the vision of this pathetic shrinking kid in my head, I continued to fashion my characters.

Three character types emerged from this exercise, they were;

1) needy and desperate (Treehorn)

2) ruthless and sadistic (H)

3) defiant, wise and the voice of reason (having seen it all before).

These characters live in an acrid dog eat dog city devoid of humour where Character 2 (H) is malevolent to the core and makes a sport out of sucking the commoner financially and emotionally dry. Character 3, a transexual gardener, has a life long goal to reduce CO2 omissions and soon realises that he is seemingly the only hope for happiness.

These characters came before I had imagined a ‘world’ and thus I have had to do as John Cleese suggested (1991) and stick close to where I need to be (creatively) in the hope that an idea will arrive out of the blue. Thankfully, I was ‘open’ (a state of creativity posited by Cleese 02:40) and saw the linked image as the foundation for the world of Treehorn.

Though the frame is noir and morose, the splash of light to the right of frame may imply that there is a talisman of hope for all.

(Cleese, John 1991 A lecture on creativity, https://vimeo.com/18913413 –  27:20mins).

Parry, F 1971, The Shrinking of Treehorn, Holiday House Publishing.

A telescope, a microscope, a camera lens, a piece of warped glass. Now, write what you see when you look through each one. GO!

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With the aid of this week’s reading by Adam Ganz, we are looking to explore lens based writing. Ganz revisits its inception by speaking of past practice from Galileo, Darwin, Defoe, Cook, to contemporaries like Freedberg, Leeuwenhoek and Hochschild. This paper alines  these scholars and scientists with a notion that the lens is the yardstick for concise explanations devoid of ornamental and abstruse language (as beautifully put by Robert Boyle) (p. 11).

I am especially interested in Ganz’s attempt to codify lens based writing and its affordances.

  • Prosthetic: the heightened perception of an object through extensions of a sense, such as a telescope for visual or speaker for audio enhancement
  • Historic: relaying what has been perceived before should a willing observer be unable
  • Analytic: cut and dry description of what is perceived
  • Aesthetic: viewing and framing simultaneously
  • Diachronic: the observation of the effects of time
  • Scopophilic: offering voyeuristic pleasure from examination (p.10).

For me, this made the art of lens based writing easy to understand and thus apply to my own practice.

However, I was somewhat confused by Viktor Shklovsky’s take on ‘the purpose of art’ and the defamiliarisation of the observed (p.19). Shklovsky’s factive, definitive language on such a nuanced topic as art, makes me question whether this entry is a useful contribution to the argument or not. I would be interested to see what others took from this passage.

Instead of getting too caught up in this, I moved on with the presumption that Shklovsky was merely highlighting an artist’s ability to alter one’s perception.

Overall, this paper has given me a new appreciation for the scripts and science journals that I have read through my life. It has sparked a new enthusiasm for lens based writing, in particular, for the scripts that we will produce in class. By extension, it has given me some  new tools to construct my ‘world’ for the next assignment.

Ganz, A 2013, ‘To make you see’: Screenwriting, description and the ‘lens-based’ tradition, Journal of Screenwriting, vol. 4, no. 1, pp. 7-24.

THIS WORLD IS NOT OUR FRIEND

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I honest to god had my first light bulb moment today! Probably the first of its type for the year. It was in response to one of the five questions that we have been asked to ruminate on until the next class.

How does the world affect the tone of what we see?

The dreariness of the weather, the cold colour tones, the air of hopelessness all contribute to a sense that we will be pushed to the threshold of our mental wellbeing. As viewers and as characters, this world will be the impetus for us to either fight or fly and overall, stay glued to our objective.

Had the character Ray been placed in a tropical environment to tell her story, her urgency to acquire a house out of the elements mightn’t have been as palpable. She may have rethought her decision to pull a gun on Lila. She may have sort shelter elsewhere.

This world is not her friend no matter how caring she is toward her family.

We as viewers, we are drawn into her plight and with the realistic production are reminded that this could be our plight too.

Continuing on from my previous (somewhat tangential) blog…

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Continuing on from my previous (somewhat tangential) blog…

We were asked to write something we like, then something we hate. Then we were to add five reasons why we like it, five reasons why we hate it. Then, we were to write five reasons why someone might like what we hate, and why someone might hate what we like. Who would these people be?

What stories could we tell?

So…

I like sound/audio and I hate how I have to pay $9 to the government for a concession card.

In applying the exercise…

I like audio because;

  • it can be sculpted
  • audio technology has surpassed visual production
  • it is difficult to block out
  • it tells a story
  • the principal of sound can be paralleled to the existence of the universe

I hate having to pay $9 to the government for a concession card because;

  • it doesn’t seem justifiable
  • the government don’t need my $9
  • government money may go toward the military which I don’t mind to a degree however they aren’t using tax payers $$$ efficiently. For example, the JSF which is a contract that has been on hold for nearly 10 years and tax payers have been paying hundreds of millions of dollars for the licensing
  • I have very little voice to contest this
  • That could be spent on my lunch or toward the money that I save when I use my concession

The reasons why someone might like what I hate could include;

  • one may believe that the $9 concession card fee goes toward the teller’s wage
  • they may also believe that the fleet of JSFs will be delivered this year
  • they may enjoy airshows
  • Their boss told them to charge $9 and if they were to consider wavering it, they won’t get their promotion
  • They are malevolent to the core and revel in the thought of societal struggle

Someone may hate Sound/audio because;

– it can hurt your ears when near a construction site or an airshow

– people can use sound offends

– some may prefer vision

– they may be hard of hearing

– the thought of sound/audio may evoke a bad memory like an ex or a bad performance

Finally… 

This exercise has been a lot of fun and it has contributed to the first 2 characters in my story!

Advancing to this inspiration came on a night out watching Andrew Knight and Jan Sardi speak about film writing, I observed several platitudes that seemed to function as space-fillers.

At Etihad Stadium that same evening, I conversed with many people who spoke mechanically as though they were automatons in a Stepford nightmare. They were trialling a rotoscope camera which delivered impressive images though those I spoke to couldn’t seem to answer simple questions such as, ‘whats your involvement’ without looking as though they had just inserted a floppy disc into their brains.

It reminded me of Jacques Tati’s 1967 film Playtime where humans became secondary to the cold complicated machinery that ruled their lives.

From here, the first character B was born. B is a surviver who craves the human touch and is the personification of the lack of societal intimacy as a result of advancements of technology and bureaucracy. B’s antagonist is H. H who is malevolent to the core and profits off the fear of others.