Flesh Into Light

Robert A. Haller

Description

Robert A. Haller is director of collections and special projects at the Anthology Film Archives in New York City and the author of Intersecting Images: The Cinema of Ed Emshwiller and Crossroads: Avant-Garde Film in Pittsburgh in the 1970s.

Sujets

• Arts visuels
• Arts visuels
• Cinéma
• Cinéma
• Cinéma
• Cinema
• Film director
• General officer
• History of film
• Art
• General

Informations

• Publié par: Intellect Books Ltd
• Date de parution: 01 janvier 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781841506838
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Flesh Into Light
Flesh Into Light
The Films of Amy Greenfield
Robert A. Haller

intellect Bristol, UK / Chicago, USA
First published in the UK in 2012 by Intellect, The Mill, Parnall Road, Fishponds, Bristol, BS16 3JG, UK
First published in the USA in 2012 by
Intellect, The University of Chicago Press, 1427 E. 60th Street, Chicago, IL 60637, USA
Copyright 2012 Intellect Ltd
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Cover designer: Holly Rose
Copy-editor: Macmillan
Typesetting: Mac Style, Beverley, E. Yorkshire
ISBN 978-1-84150-488-9
EISBN 978-1-84150-683-8
Printed and bound by Latimer Trend.
Contents
Flesh Into Light: The Films of Amy Greenfield
Robert A. Haller
Preface
Chapter 1: Beginnings
Chapter 2: Planning and Discovery
Chapter 3: Holograms and late 1970s
Chapter 4: 1980s and Antigone
Chapter 5: 1990s: Performance and the Cycles of Light
Chapter 6: 2000s: The Body Songs
Chapter 7: 8 Perspectives
Appendix 1: Filmography of Amy Greenfield through 2009
Appendix 2: Fragments: Mysterious Beginnings and Fragments: Mat/Glass and One O One
Appendix 3: Raw-Edged Women and MUSEic of the Body
Appendix 4: Six notions and a question about my work in video
Appendix 5: The Clock Tower
Appendix 6: Bibliography
Appendix 7: Greenfield on Greenfield
Flesh Into Light
The Films of Amy Greenfield
By Robert A. Haller
A useful measure of the accomplishment of the film-maker Amy Greenfield is the reception of a group of her films that appeared on the Internet in 2010. The films were censored - erased - while Greenfield had a New York gallery show in January and February, and then restored after multiple protests. In her films Element (1973), Tides (1983), and Music of the Body (2009), she and her other dancers were nude, in continuous motion, existing with and against standard time: interacting with the sea, with a muddy shore, and with video images of themselves. All 3 films were posted on Vimeo and YouTube. The latter took the 3 films off within hours, citing the nudity as a violation of community standards.
Greenfield received a notice that not only had she run afoul of YouTube s community standards but she was told that uploading another violating video would result in her account being banned ( Los Angeles Times , 26 February). Greenfield turned to the National Coalition Against Censorship, which took her side, and cited her previous screenings at the National Gallery of Art, international festivals, and at the Museum of Modern Art. The coalition then enlisted the support of the Electronic Frontier Foundation whose attorney declared that while we understand YouTube s desire to keep pornography off its servers, it must also understand that not all nude art is pornographic.
YouTube then reversed its decision and reinstated the Greenfield films, which were also available on another Internet site, Boing Boing. Scores of viewers responded to the initial removal of the films - and their return. Here are some on the spontaneous responses to her Tides :
That was gorgeous. I really don t care about the standards debate now. I want to watch the upside down backwards part around 7:00 again. Wow. ( referring to the upside down, slow-motion ocean sequence )
Yes yes and all that about YouTube, but that video is special. For the first few minutes I was enjoying the nudity as much as the ocean. Then, after setting a really strong frame of reference, it used camera orientation and rewind, creating that blissful drift in me that I knew the subject was revelling in. Great vid. Awesome editing.
That s really lovely - am I very much mistaken, or are some parts of the video actually reversed? It s oddly disorienting/cool.
Many initial viewers linked the films to their friends, building a cascade response that led to thousands of hits each week on Boing Boing and on YouTube:
It s a poem, it s a haiku in film I was led here by a posting at Boing Boing announcing YouTube s decision to block Amy s work. Whether one sees beauty or ugliness is a personal choice, the choice of YouTube and those it wishes to appease by its policies seems clear. I, however, see beauty, can only see beauty, and only wish to see beauty in Amy s work. I m exceedingly glad her work is available here to enjoy.
Look at how our body moves in the temporal spaces. Wow!
What is striking about these comments is the recognition that Greenfield s images are shaped by editing, that some of the images flow through different time frames, that her use of nudity is only one of many factors that induced viewers to connect to their friends.
After 4 months of the controversy of removing and then restoring Greenfield s films the number of viewers of just Tides grew to over twenty-seven thousand. The other titles amassed twenty thousand more viewers.
The enduring resonance of Greenfield s films, whether they were made in 1973 ( Element ) or more recently ( Wildfire and Music of the Body ) are a barometer of the impact of her films, and of the response of the wider public to sophisticated, nonnarrative motion pictures.
Greenfield believes in the potency of the image of the body in motion, that it speaks to viewers now just as much as when she began to make films in 1970. That she is not making dance films but films about the human experience (note that her one feature film is based on Sophocles). That the body is a mirror of the mind.
Preface
W hen Amy Greenfield completed and released the first film that she directed in 1970 she was working in a still-young medium - cinema dance. Thomas Edison s film company had made the first pure dance film in 1894, Annabelle Serpentine Dance - indeed, it was one of the first films. But Annabelle was in a category that was passed over and unexplored in the first decades of film-making.
In contrast, the narrative film as we know it today emerged by 1910 - largely from Edwin S. Porter and D. W. Griffith. Cinema dance, which would be rooted in Griffith s language of film (editing and camera mobility) and gestural, nonnarrative human movement, emerged much later.
Amy Greenfield is one of the handful of film-makers and dancers who opened the realms of film and dance to each other in 1940-80. The more than forty films she has made since 1970 are united first by an intense belief in the eloquence of the human body - often nude; second, by an energy that is always cinematic; and third, by an inquiry into the nature of the human condition.
The physical and abstract/nonnarrative dynamism of live dance was usually lost in movies. Only at mid-century did film-makers successfully unite these qualities of dance with cinema. Maya Deren (1917-61) was one of these - her films were mostly made in the 1940s. The Briton Michael Powell (1905-90) and the American Hilary Harris (1930-99) were 2 more - Powell made The Red Shoes i n 1948 and The Tales of Hoffmann in 1951, and Hilary Harris made Nine Variations on a Dance Theme in 1966. In the late 1960s Greenfield sought the latter. From the 1970s she often worked with Harris as her cinematographer. In 1983 she finally met Powell on a film set; in 1989 Powell viewed her just-completed feature Antigone: Rites of Passion .
Greenfield s special achievement is how she found her own way across the bland, unfeeling chasm that separated most film and dance. Like Powell, Deren, and Harris, Greenfield s films evoke passionate states of mind through the use of the close-up camera, by camera movement, and by film editing.
In her films Greenfield considers central questions about the human condition. Who are we in relation to the world, to ourselves, and to each other? These questions are implicit in each film. Her protagonists are often naked - vulnerable but also liberated - in confronting the ultimate challenges of being in our world.
From the beginning of her film-making Greenfield worked from the basic movements of daily life, avoiding traditional postures, steps, costumes. She focuses on the innate dignity of the human body. The themes of identity and meaning emerge in our common movements. Walking, falling, embracing, rolling, running, lifting, crawling are what she and her performers do in her films. In this her work echoes the choices of Isadora Duncan, and some 1960s choreographers like Yvonne Rainer. But there is a crucial difference between her mode and that of the postmodern choreographers: it is through camera position and editing that she brings out the archetypal significance of movement and communicates ecstatic states to evoke cathartic responses. Her choreography is first cinema, then dance.
Another quality of her cinema is easy to overlook, because it is something that is not usually there - speech. Most of her films are scored with music, and some use printed words, but fewer use spoken ones. They are reserved to make explicit what is already implicit in the movements of the body.
Based upon shared common experience, her films stimulate subjective interpretation. The spectator will inquire his/her own way through Greenfield s cinema.
I encountered Amy Greenfield s work for the first time in 1976 when I saw her recently completed 1974 videotape, Dervish . It was gripping for its cinematic conception and for its mysterious center. Dervish was a videotape made with the first-generation equipment then available to artists and the public: black and white, moderate image resolution by today s standards, limited sound quality. Most tapes made in the first decade of video art recorded largely immobile subjects: conceptual issues were what the tapes were about. These artists videotapes were detached and rational rather than emotional in impact. Duration, the passing of time, was a frequent subj