How have your own ideas about migration been confirmed or changed through the Seminar’s screenings and discussions?
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A comment that was made this week, which has stuck with me: it was a general question about why we (human beings) are fascinated with conflict and fear.
It seems the main human tragedy is that we seem to be caught in a vicious cycle of running from our worse fear, to our first hope; a concept which is painfully exploited in Pedro Costa’s work with no apparent intent.
Immigration often comes out of conflict and most always causes conflict.
As a filmmaker, I am distraught by this fascination/need that we have to represent the conflict of others over our own, particularly because its depiction makes us feel safer and better about our own personal conflicts. Yes, this fascination sometimes exists alongside other more noble reasons, perhaps, such as awareness and a need to eradicate it, but the underlying reason seems to me a very personal one always. A constant need to contextualize our experience and to console ourselves in the presence of situations outside our control drives this fascination. I find this a tragegy. It proposes that this vicious cycle cannot be broken.
There are certain scenes that I have seen this week, which will live with me for a long time as a beacon and reminder that the only way out of this cycle, if only temporary is kindness:
-The six-year old sister blowing warm air on her crippled brother’s hand in a snow storm.
-The two native American women keeping each other company side by side on a bed as the day breaks.
-Renee’s final musings on her identity politics while accepting that she wants to be like them.
Wednesday night’s program encapsulated best the answer to this question for me.
All three works by Oliver, Alison and Lonnie/Siebren were wonderful reminders that perhaps the most complex and important elements of migration is the migration of meaning and thought, its transformation.
Thank you Chi-hui for Wednesday night’s program. It encapsulated best the answer to this question for me.
All three works by Oliver, Alison and Lonnie/Siebren were wonderful reminders that perhaps the most complex and important elements of migration is the migration of meaning and thought, its transformation.
Like the clever quote in “Monument of Sugar,” these films illustrated how objects and ideas (e.g. films/media) become “things that interact with the world.” I appreciated how all of these films highlighted the importance of transformative intent and the immense, positive impact and resistance to adversity that it can have, even on failure. It was truly inspirational.
I was also touched by the preoccupation of these works to go back to an origin and to own that origin in order to embrace transformation. This is also a concern at the heart of the migration experience.
The film on sugar was very beautiful and fit well into the topic of migration (of goods and money): the representation of the global sugar traffic, the contrast between Europe and Nigeria. In the former: the huge precise machines, the gleaming, workerless factories, and the pristine, straight-edged sugar blocks, compared to the messiness, the disorder, the teeming vitality of the streets and the “imperfect” sugar blocks produced in Nigeria. To me the most stunning shot was the scene in the sugar packing factory where young men stacked bags of sugar as they came off a conveyor. After a while, the “system” underlying the apparent chaos became apparent, with the men working as a group, taking turns to take a bag, not necessarily in any particular order, but in a kind of silent synchrony. Though the conveyor belt determined the rhythm it was so different than the aseptic factory lines where people are chained to their spot on the assembly line and there is no possibility,for example to fill in for someone who stumbles. (I’m not saying it’s better because I don’t know enough about the context for the workers, just that it’s different and the difference speaks to deep cultural/economic/social realities.). The filmmamking style, with its long takes and wide compositions and slow, slow pans allow for this kind of deep observation of rhythms and patterns.
I’m sure many of us could relate to the sheer will and obsessiveness, to the point of absurdity, that it takes to do what we do. The disjuncture, for many of us, between the obvious or attributed “value” of our work and the effort, time and energy we put into it.
What I kept waiting for (and maybe this is the difference between irony and self-irony that Irina referred to) was for the artists to embrace the messiness they found, and find a way of incorporating the Nigerian sugar, this “inferior” production with all its “imperfections”, into their art, rather than insisting that it fit the European mold (literally). Rather than see it all as an impediment or a nuisance to their (admittedly absurdist) project. Why go to Nigeria to work unless you want your work to be affected in some deep way by the experience? Instead, there was a reproduction of rather classical colonialesque production relations, with Nigerian workers providing manual labor for a product which was completely alien to them (I wasn’t sure what the Nigerians could “learn” from this process).
Caitlin Manning
Sorry I don‘t remember the title of the film
I think people should sign their posts.
Most likely to develop a multiple personality disorder: Alison Kobayashi
Best DJ: Sherae Rimpsey
Most consistently, awesomely snarky: The Russians
Person most often prompted to stand up and speak up: Maya Han Weimer
Most supportive of scared-shitless youngsters: Linda Lilienfeld
Most all-encompassing, thorough comments: Patti Zimmermann
Character with most awesomely disgusting cough: Vanda
Most priveledged white woman filmmaker: Laura Waddington
Hippest progammer: Chi-hui Yang
Our Flaherty experience is hard to categorize because we came in not knowing what to expect and found ourselves changed forever.
By the way, the lyrics to the White Girl Migration Rap are as follows:
Migration… In your face… In your nation… Migration
I’m just a priveledged white girl in your culture, I’m like a vulture
Suppressing your voice, it’s a choice
If you’re offended by my rappin’
I’ll get ya snappin’ with my Jane Austen voice ovah.
All ovah.
June 26, 2008 at 3:40 am |
A comment that was made this week, which has stuck with me: it was a general question about why we (human beings) are fascinated with conflict and fear.
It seems the main human tragedy is that we seem to be caught in a vicious cycle of running from our worse fear, to our first hope; a concept which is painfully exploited in Pedro Costa’s work with no apparent intent.
Immigration often comes out of conflict and most always causes conflict.
As a filmmaker, I am distraught by this fascination/need that we have to represent the conflict of others over our own, particularly because its depiction makes us feel safer and better about our own personal conflicts. Yes, this fascination sometimes exists alongside other more noble reasons, perhaps, such as awareness and a need to eradicate it, but the underlying reason seems to me a very personal one always. A constant need to contextualize our experience and to console ourselves in the presence of situations outside our control drives this fascination. I find this a tragegy. It proposes that this vicious cycle cannot be broken.
June 26, 2008 at 3:43 am |
There are certain scenes that I have seen this week, which will live with me for a long time as a beacon and reminder that the only way out of this cycle, if only temporary is kindness:
-The six-year old sister blowing warm air on her crippled brother’s hand in a snow storm.
-The two native American women keeping each other company side by side on a bed as the day breaks.
-Renee’s final musings on her identity politics while accepting that she wants to be like them.
Wednesday night’s program encapsulated best the answer to this question for me.
All three works by Oliver, Alison and Lonnie/Siebren were wonderful reminders that perhaps the most complex and important elements of migration is the migration of meaning and thought, its transformation.
June 26, 2008 at 4:03 am |
Thank you Chi-hui for Wednesday night’s program. It encapsulated best the answer to this question for me.
All three works by Oliver, Alison and Lonnie/Siebren were wonderful reminders that perhaps the most complex and important elements of migration is the migration of meaning and thought, its transformation.
Like the clever quote in “Monument of Sugar,” these films illustrated how objects and ideas (e.g. films/media) become “things that interact with the world.” I appreciated how all of these films highlighted the importance of transformative intent and the immense, positive impact and resistance to adversity that it can have, even on failure. It was truly inspirational.
I was also touched by the preoccupation of these works to go back to an origin and to own that origin in order to embrace transformation. This is also a concern at the heart of the migration experience.
June 26, 2008 at 3:10 pm |
The film on sugar was very beautiful and fit well into the topic of migration (of goods and money): the representation of the global sugar traffic, the contrast between Europe and Nigeria. In the former: the huge precise machines, the gleaming, workerless factories, and the pristine, straight-edged sugar blocks, compared to the messiness, the disorder, the teeming vitality of the streets and the “imperfect” sugar blocks produced in Nigeria. To me the most stunning shot was the scene in the sugar packing factory where young men stacked bags of sugar as they came off a conveyor. After a while, the “system” underlying the apparent chaos became apparent, with the men working as a group, taking turns to take a bag, not necessarily in any particular order, but in a kind of silent synchrony. Though the conveyor belt determined the rhythm it was so different than the aseptic factory lines where people are chained to their spot on the assembly line and there is no possibility,for example to fill in for someone who stumbles. (I’m not saying it’s better because I don’t know enough about the context for the workers, just that it’s different and the difference speaks to deep cultural/economic/social realities.). The filmmamking style, with its long takes and wide compositions and slow, slow pans allow for this kind of deep observation of rhythms and patterns.
I’m sure many of us could relate to the sheer will and obsessiveness, to the point of absurdity, that it takes to do what we do. The disjuncture, for many of us, between the obvious or attributed “value” of our work and the effort, time and energy we put into it.
What I kept waiting for (and maybe this is the difference between irony and self-irony that Irina referred to) was for the artists to embrace the messiness they found, and find a way of incorporating the Nigerian sugar, this “inferior” production with all its “imperfections”, into their art, rather than insisting that it fit the European mold (literally). Rather than see it all as an impediment or a nuisance to their (admittedly absurdist) project. Why go to Nigeria to work unless you want your work to be affected in some deep way by the experience? Instead, there was a reproduction of rather classical colonialesque production relations, with Nigerian workers providing manual labor for a product which was completely alien to them (I wasn’t sure what the Nigerians could “learn” from this process).
Caitlin Manning
Sorry I don‘t remember the title of the film
I think people should sign their posts.
June 27, 2008 at 8:34 am |
Our Flaherty Awards:
Most unlikely sweetheart: Pedro Costa
Seminar scapegoat: Allan Sekula
Most racist comment: “Jane Austen voiceover”
Most likely to develop a multiple personality disorder: Alison Kobayashi
Best DJ: Sherae Rimpsey
Most consistently, awesomely snarky: The Russians
Person most often prompted to stand up and speak up: Maya Han Weimer
Most supportive of scared-shitless youngsters: Linda Lilienfeld
Most all-encompassing, thorough comments: Patti Zimmermann
Character with most awesomely disgusting cough: Vanda
Most priveledged white woman filmmaker: Laura Waddington
Hippest progammer: Chi-hui Yang
Our Flaherty experience is hard to categorize because we came in not knowing what to expect and found ourselves changed forever.
By the way, the lyrics to the White Girl Migration Rap are as follows:
Migration… In your face… In your nation… Migration
I’m just a priveledged white girl in your culture, I’m like a vulture
Suppressing your voice, it’s a choice
If you’re offended by my rappin’
I’ll get ya snappin’ with my Jane Austen voice ovah.
All ovah.