Category: filmmaking


::::#BURN::::


So, Bram E. Gieben is this rather talented writer and performance poet I know who does a whole bunch of cool shit all over Glasgow including running this awesome spoken word night that spans both here and the capitol.

Below is a very well produced video performance of a poem I’ve seen him do a whole bunch of times. It’s pretty fucking good. Seriously, not only is it a sound and provocative piece of writing but the effort and cinematography that has gone into this video raises it above the noise of every day self-promotion. Stick it in your nervous system and let it fester.


Serotonin and oxytocin inhibitors were a rare commodity and mart1n had a real pressing need; heartbroken and borderline psychotic, if he didn’t taper his brain chemistry with something soon he saw great violence in his near future. That would mean another invasive evaluation and state sanctioned pharmaceuticals again.

His attempts to have his nervous system declared a sovereign nation in order to procure diplomatic immunity for his noostropic proclivities had thus far met with stern rejection from the bodies which govern such matters. This left the black market – a libertarian criminal diaspora of free thinkers, biohackers and professional lunatics. Dealing with this loose cabal of raconteurs did not come without affect; a Kafkaesque lewis carol funhouse of synchronicity and high weirdness.

Navigating the tides of such an entity required a finely tuned compass and an attention to detail that mart1n found tedious.


Metaphors on Vision is a collection of writings by non-narrative film-maker Stan Brakhage particularly concerned with his personal approach to film. His work is beautiful and striking and his influence on the cinematic avant-garde should not be underestimated. I thoroughly recommend clicking through to the book and also checking out some of his work.

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I would love so much to get to see this. The premiere, which is this Friday, is completely sold out. Still, it is running till the 5th of may.

From The Glue Factory website:

Burrowing through that dark vein of German Expressionism and Soviet propaganda films, 85A Collective, in association with the Glue Factory, are proud to present their first self-produced film: ‘Chernozem’ (Black Earth).

Launching as a fringe event to G.I. 2012, the film has been expanded into a ‘total cinema’ experience- a hair raising Gesamtkunstwerk entitled: ‘CHERNOZEM:KINO!’

Quite literally taken on a surreptitious ride through a series of multi-sensory scenes from the film within a large-scale post-industrial environment, the awe-struck audience can expect mesmerizing mechanical kinetic sculptures, immersive set design, intense lighting + projection, pummeling live music, salvos of sound design and rapid-fire performance … with the terrified cinéaste ultimately ‘projected’ into the film itself!

“A desperate cog in a monstrous machine!!”

CHUNG! CHUNG! CHUNG! CHUNG! CHUNG!! CHUNG…!!

:::The Glue Factory:::
:::85A Collective:::


There’s a-doin’s transpirin’




“Doll’s house I spent two years making, being destroyed in a fire.” – Harriet.

::::GL1CH:::: [ photography ]


another still from untitled-tone-poem film project.


Another still from untitled-tone-poem-project


A still from a forthcoming Tone Poem. Maybe.


Oh blog! How I have forsaken thee! Whence forth the tides of life do raiseth up to claim my lungs as mine mind’s lagoons for which to drown within these eyes do turn asunder and let decay claim this monument to thine outpourings.

Or some such shit.

Time for a story. Way back when it was 2010 (or was it 2011?), maybe sometime around this here autumnal season (although, frankly, it feels more like fucking Winter right now) a coffee house did open in yonder city of Ayr. An independent coffee house called Su Casa. With very tasty coffee. A treat it was to stumble upon and GOD DAMN do they do fine coffee. Upstairs I did wander to find a group of people muchly chatting. Full of awesome espresso I did introduce myself and join in – struck with a rare moment of sociable as I was. After all, the exchanging of conversation and ideas and the meeting of people are what coffeehouses are famous for, going all the way about to the first one in London in eighteencanteen. I wrote a piece on this subject in fact, one which I never finished, which I was going to gift to the owner of Su Casa for promotional purposes (I wanted to help, see).

Of this group of ragamuffin artists and students and general peoples there was one sat alone at a table, a laptop before him, working away at some video editing software. His name was Alberth Mg. We got to chatting. Alberth was a film maker. Alberth had forgone film school. Alberth had a vision.

At that time in his life he was spreading his time between Ayr and London making promo videos for bands and solo artists. A good way to pay the bills I would say. Personally, I was between shitty temporary jobs at the time, but not yet at the point of self-immolating desperation as to my prospects of finding employment. Plus, I had my mysterious novel going on. Still, I envied Alberth. He’d managed to hobble something together and was going for it. We exchanged details, followed each other on facebook and went on our merry ways.

Our paths didn’t cross much in the really real from then on but I kept abreast of what he was up to with his company Elgato Film Productions and various other projects via the book of the face.

So, now it is now, and Elgato are really ramping up. They have a short film, Reflections, due to be premiered next month. A shiny new website. A ragtag production team. A force to be reckoned with I reckon.

And now, in time for Halloween, A sketch called The Girl Who Is Sitting Next To Me.

Enjoy!

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ghostdub. that’s what they all call me – i can’t even remember the name i had before. ghostdub.ghost.dub. because. because. because…i was dead. straight flatline. butbutbut.but Suzie…Suzie wouldn’t let them cut the line.screaming hysterical said she’d kill anyone who tried. Time…you… you lose it, over there. beyond the beyond. The Great Whatever. everything becomes like liquid. When the marbles finally returned they told me that I’d been gone 16 minutes. Guaranteed brain death. Youre produce.
but then i came back. They think… was it me? or just an echo? a dub? it stuck. what came back wasn’t what left, they say. corrupted.decompression error perhaps. They tied me up for my own protection. maybe theirs. i was in that place for quite a long time. halfmad. half here half there. Frankly, I’m still not really here.
at first they wouldn’t let me dive. said i might not come back at all. but i snuck it. it actually made me better…like i needed to dive to feel whole. Now i’m really only half here – constant transmission. i have someone to keep an eye on me. Whilst gone they say I got into mischief. i don’t remember.

::::ghostdub::::


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