This is a little experiment I did yesterday. Not feeling much like going out in the cold weather, I decided to see what I could create using text from a recent poem, found vlog clips from the commonpeople trashcan and an hour or so exploring garageband. I have long been fascinated by the relationship between poetry and film, and I am quite pleased with this initial creation. Plus, usually I have Adam on hand for technical guidance but this time, I tried it out solo. Which seeing as my techie-ness goes about as far as a pen and paper, was a challenge in having the confidence in simply letting myself explore, make and play. Hope you enjoy the result.
The poem is part of a larger body of work, exploring the idea of erotic imprints - how our sensual memory is 'written in the skin'', and how a lover becomes part of our own body ... here is the poem text in its original form for you to read, if you want to.
Forensic
Some mornings, I wake with the taste of you
knitted into my skin, echoing through cells
until I am clawing at this body, tearing
to reach you, my eyes flashing silver
panning the reflection for yours.
Everything spells out your name.
Like the wind, my fingers seek you,
each tip alight, electrified, following
the earth of your body, the slow, hot
softness of your kiss, the dig of nails
as they paint blood effigies in the dark.
Before seizure they say you can smell
something different in the air: nutmeg,
aniseed, amber, thyme
and something bittersweet –
cardamon and heat, blood;
my own need.
In the dark I have dreamt you
and here, in the dawn light
my body convulses with sleep-drawn desire.
c. Victoria Bennett
The poem is part of a larger body of work, exploring the idea of erotic imprints - how our sensual memory is 'written in the skin'', and how a lover becomes part of our own body ... here is the poem text in its original form for you to read, if you want to.
Forensic
Some mornings, I wake with the taste of you
knitted into my skin, echoing through cells
until I am clawing at this body, tearing
to reach you, my eyes flashing silver
panning the reflection for yours.
Everything spells out your name.
Like the wind, my fingers seek you,
each tip alight, electrified, following
the earth of your body, the slow, hot
softness of your kiss, the dig of nails
as they paint blood effigies in the dark.
Before seizure they say you can smell
something different in the air: nutmeg,
aniseed, amber, thyme
and something bittersweet –
cardamon and heat, blood;
my own need.
In the dark I have dreamt you
and here, in the dawn light
my body convulses with sleep-drawn desire.
c. Victoria Bennett
3 comments:
Fucking Brilliant you clever little techno head!! I love it to bits. You must do some more. If you did that in a few hours think what you could do in a week!!
Coincidentally if you read Ruth's blog you will see that I've been smelling things that aren't there again. Well things that aren't there in what most people perceive of as 'reality' I was smelling an astral projection I expect.
very clever - how the heck did you work out how to do that? Wild Women TV can't be far away!
Oooooooh I like it. You should definitely do some more of this. x
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