beyond magazine

Work/Life

A hearty congratulations to Janine for her second book, Work/Life:the UPPERCASE directory of Canadian Illustration & Photography

Title sequences: continued

Our film writer Doug Cummings writes:

A few weeks ago, Karen posted an entry on Title Sequences, so I thought I'd flag a handsome new coffee table book, "Uncredited: Graphic Design & Opening Titles in Movies,"  that has been imported from Europe and reprinted in English via Index. 

Handsome it is, but its translation at times can be a bit clunky. Consider: "That being said, primitive-style title credits based on elementary concepts, and with infinite conceptual potential for that same reason, have manged to survive everything."  (If you know what that sentence really means, you should go into law.)  In general, however, the book makes interesting reading, particularly given the dearth of focused studies (graphical and cinematic) regarding title sequences.

The book insightfully divides titles into basic genres: White Over Black (Woody Allen, Adaptation), Titles as Logos (Casablanca, The Thing), Animation (The Adventures of Prince Achmed, The Pink Panther), Textural (The Birds, The English Patient), or Conceptual (Mon Oncle, Mothlight, Contempt).

The best feature of the book, however, is its many multi-frame reproductions of hundreds of title sequences, making it just as fun to flip through as to actually read.  The diversity of films considered is very impressive (mainstream Hollywood to European art films to avant-garde) and at times, the succinct commentary can be evocative: "In the apocalyptic world featured in [Francois Truffaut's "Fahrenheit 451"], where the written word is persecuted, typographic titles would not make any sense."  (Instead, the title sequence presents vividly-tinted television antennas.)  My only complaint is that a few of the printed sequences (like Robert Bresson's "L'Argent") are much too dark on the page.

Lastly, one very fun feature is the book's inclusion of a CD-ROM containing decent Quicktime samples of many sequences discussed in the book.

Engage.

Well, we haven't been here in a while. We're turning a little stack of index cards, into a little paper filled with tiny thumbnail views of what will soon be another 68 pages of goodness. Coming as soon as we raise the money for the next print bill, Issue 16: Small. Feel free to subscribe, donate, or jump in at the face and the book to give us your content and fundraising ideas.

View the The Shatner Show trailer.

We want to give a galaxy sized "Hurray!" to Beyond designer Janine Vangool and the Uppercase Gallery. This Friday marks the opening of The Shatner Show , "a book and exhibition of artwork depicting William Shatner by artists and illustrators from Canada and the US."

We have seen previews and are overcome with much Shatner joy. We are beaming in that "Beam me up Scotty!" way. This is a beautiful piece of work. We hope this is only the beginning of many Uppercase books to come.

Go ahead and buy a copy before they all disappear. If you can still get a thrill from whooshing of the bridge doors, you must own this wonderful book.

The Captain's Blog is the place for all things Shatner this week. Follow along and pick out your favorite Shatner-ati while singing "ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhh's" at the top of your lungs.

Bookcrossing.com

Every so often someone does an article on Bookcrossing.com and it reminds me that I intend to participate. I wish that they accepted magazines - especially no-ads arts and literary magazines that operate as places to introduce people to even more books. Perhaps this could be something that our lovely readers could suggest to the mighty and inventive Bookcrossing.com folks.

Finders, readers (From the Guardian, July 31)

Bookcrossing is a literary treasure hunt that starts and finishes online. Someone leaves a book they love for others to find and see whether they love it too. And its top 50 reveals some surprise choices

Shadows of humanity.

David Shepherd, who wrote a review of the graphic novel Blankets, sends this quote from the novel:

'Socrates asks his disciple Glaucon to imagine human beings livingin a dark cavern. And since childhood humans have been prisoners, bound at their neck and feet facing a wall, and unable to turn their heads. Beyond them is a walled path, traversed by people carrying statues of animals and humans and beyond that is a fire illuminating the cave.

From the prisoners' perspective, all that can be seen are the shadows of these statues projected upon the wall by the fire; sort of like a shadow puppet show, only the prisoners aren't aware that what they see are shadows or puppets. They think they're studying reality. And Socrates describes the people carrying the statues - some of them are talking but because of an echo the prisoners suppose it is the shadows that are talking.

Now if a prisoner was released from his binds, allowed to turn about and examine his surroundings; it'd be a shock to his entire system. In fact, he'd probably believe that what he'd previously known was the truth, and that this was a sort of heresy.

Gradually he'd realize what he'd known as a human was merely the shadow of a statue of a human. What an even greater shock it would be to bring the prisoner out of the cave and into the sunlight. The initial effect would be blinding.

Slowly, perhaps, they could adapt to this new world, studying what they know - shadows - then being able to examine the sky, but only at night. The final step would be the ability to study the sky by day - to look directly into the light of the sun.'

Blankets.

A guest review of Blankets by Beyond ICU member, David Shepherd:

On the recommendation of a friend, I visited my local library and found a copy of Blankets, a graphic novel by Craig Thompson. I'm on-call for an early morning shift, and woke before call-time, so I picked it up to pass some time and wound up reading all 500+ pages straight through.

What a beautiful work of art. Simple, but poignant drawings, and a deeply human and moving story. His depiction of life as an outsider in mainstream evangelical culture is spot-on. The guilts, the pressures,
the utter surreality of growing up in that world echoed my own.

Especially poignant was a section where he burns all of his drawings and art. He states:

"I acted as if I was sacrificing a burnt offering before God ---- a new spiritual pact. But really I wanted to burn these childhood artifacts because the lines - meant for escape - served as a reminder instead. I wanted to burn my memories."

His writing and drawing blend together seamlessly to form a whole that goes beyond a mere story on page, but draws you in like a silent film. I put the book down and slept, and woke feeling cleaner, wholer, and more human than I have in a long time. It's like it set something very deep in me free. There is nothing like hearing someone else articulate something you never could, especially when you hadn't even realized you'd been trying.

Publisher's website.
Author Craig Thompson's website.

Rewoven.

In Issue 13: Beauty, Beyond magazine writers and contributors examine the tenuous connections between biology, memory, and remembrance. Like Barton Fink, going on about The Life of the Mind, we are often easily impressed with our own intelligence and forget the raw material is a gift.

A Beyond volunteer who works on an Neurology Intensive Care Unit tells of sudden and slow changes to the brain. The onset of disease, a wrong medication, an accident, an act of what seem to be some humourless and cruel god and we are changed.

In his book Shadow of Memory, writer Floyd Skoot describes his ongoing life with dementia:

We decry what we fear. We shroud it in myth, heap abuse upon it, use language and gesture to banish it from sight or render it comic. By shrinking its monstrousness, we tame it. So a new disease such as AIDS is known first as the gay cancer, or chronic fatigue syndrome is known first as the yuppie flu, officially trivialized, shunted aside. And there is little we fear so much as losing our minds. Synonyms for "demented" are "daft," "deranged," "maniacal," "psycho," "unbalanced." Or, more colloquially, "bananas," "flipped out," "nutty as a fruitcake," "out of one's tree." The demented are like monkeys, it would seem.

I became demented overnight. Sudden onset is one factor that distinguishes my form of dementia from the more common form associated with Alzheimer's disease. For the Alzheimer's patient, who is usually over sixty, dementia develops slowly, inexorably. People have the chance to see these conditions progressing, to adjust in stages, grieve in advance. Mine developed without prelude and without time to prepare, momentously, the way it does in people suffering strokes or tumors, a bullet to the brain, or exposure to toxic substances like carbon monoxide. For me, it was how I imagine the day some sixty-five million years ago when a huge meteorite stuck the earth, turning summer to winter in an instant.
--------------------

The word dementia has its root in the Latin dementare, meaning "senseless." Yet I have found my senses heightened following the loss of intellectual force. My responsiveness to odor is so strong that sometimes I think I've become a beagle. Intense spices--Indian, Thai, Mexican--feel exaggerated in their richness; I can become exhausted and confused by eating these foods. My skin often tingles, sometimes for no discernible reason, sometimes in response to the slightest stimulus. The same process that stripped me of significant intellectual capacity and numbed my mind seems to have triggered an almost corresponding heightening of sensory and emotional awareness. Sometimes this can be a maelstrom, sometimes a baptismal immersion. So when "demented" breaks down into "de" for "out of" and "ment" for "mind"--literally "out of mind,"--I interpret the verbal construction as having positive connotations. Not loony, but liberated. Forced out of the mind, forced away from my customary cerebral mode of encounter, I have found myself dwelling more in the wilder realms of sense and emotion. Out of mind and into body, into heart. An altered state.

This is actually biology at work. Dementia is, after all, a symptom of organic brain damage. It is a condition, a disorder of the central nervous system brought about, in my case, by viral assault on brain tissue. When the assault wiped out certain intellectual processes, it also affected emotional processes. I am not talking about compensatory or reactive emotional conditions; I mean the same assault zapped certain emotion-controlling neural tissue, transforming the way I felt and responded, loosening my controls.

It has not been customary to recognize the neurology of emotion. For the nearly four centuries since Descartes's Discourse on Method (1637), scientists have tended to focus their attentions on the mental processes of memory, thinking, or language production. Measurable, readily testable, objective material. Emotions, primitive vestiges of our evolutionary history, were thought of primarily as distractions to mental activity. And were difficult to assess objectively, either from within or without.

But in the last two decades, neuroscientists have made clear that, as Dowling says, "Feelings and emotions--fear, sadness, anger, anxiety, pleasure, hostility, and calmness--localize to certain brain regions." Dowling notes that "lesions in these areas can lead to profound changes in a person's emotional behavior and personality, as well as in the ability to manage one's life." This is what has happened to me.

Intelligence is only part of the story of human consciousness. The longer I dwell in this new, demented state, the more I think intelligence may not even be the most critical part. I have become aware of the way changes in my emotional experience interact with changes in my intellectual experience to demand and create a fresh experience of being in the world, an encounter that feels spiritual in nature. I have been rewoven.

Moon is Down

Beyond ICU member and Five Foot Bookshelf contributor, David Shepherd offers up the following recommendation:

John Steinbeck's book, The Moon Is Down,  is about a Norwegian town occupied by German troops during World War II.  This short novel, only about 100 pages long, explores the relationships of the soldiers and officers and the people of the town they're assigned to. Eventually the hatred of the townspeople begins to wear down their sanity as they succumb to isolation, frustration, and the exhaustion that comes from constantly having to be on their guard against everyone around them. They slowly realize that nothing can stem the hatred of a conquered people.  It's a smart, incisive novel. Some quotes:

'We trained our young men for victory and you've got to admit they're glorious in victory, but they don't quite know how to act in defeat.  We told them they were brighter and braver than other young men.  It was a kind of shock to them to find out that they aren't a bit braver or brighter than other young men.'

Loft said harshly, 'What do you mean by defeat?  We are not defeated.'

And Lanser looked coldly up at him for a long moment and did not speak, and finally Loft's eyes wavered and he said, 'Sir.'

...and Lanser said, 'Don't talk for a moment.  I know what it is.  You didn't think it would be this way, did you?  You thought it would be rather nice."

'They hate us,' Prackle said, 'They hate us so much.'

'...you thought it would be fun, didn't you?...You're not a man anymore. You are a soldier.  Your comfort is of no importance and, Lieutenant, your life isn't of much importance.  If you live, you'll have memories. That's about all you will have.  Meanwhile you must take orders and carry them out.  Most of the orders will be unpleasant, but that's not your business.  I will not lie to you, Lieutenant.  They should have prepared you for this, and not for flower-strewn streets. They should have built your soul with truth, not led it along with lies.'

_________________________

Orden fingered his gold medallion.  He said quietly, 'You see, sir, nothing can change it.  You will be destroyed and driven out.'  His voice was very soft.  'The people don't like to be conquered, sir, and so they will not be.  Free men cannot start a war, but once it is started, they can fight on in defeat.  Herd men, followers of a leader, cannot do that, and so it is always the herd men who win battles, and the free men who win wars.  You will find that is so, sir.'

___________________________

Tonder said, 'I mean this: we'll be going home before long, won't we?'

'Well, the reorganization will take some time,' Hunter said.  'The new order can't be put into effect in a day, can it?'

Tonder said, 'All our lives perhaps?'

And Prackle said, 'Don't let him start it again!'

...'He's making out his report.  He's asking for reinforcements,' said Loft.  'It's a bigger job then we thought.'

Prackle asked excitedly, 'Will he get them - the reinforcements?'

'How would I know?'

Tonder smiled, 'Reinforcements!' he said softly.  'Or maybe replacements.  Maybe we could go home for a while.'  And he said, smiling, 'Maybe I could walk down the street and people would say, 'Hello' and they'd say, 'There goes a soldier,' and they'd be glad for me and they'd be glad of me.  And there'd be friends about, and I could turn my back to a man without being afraid.'

...Tonder went on, 'You really think replacements will come, Captain?'

'I didn't say so.'

'But you said they might.'

'I said I didn't know. Look Lieutenant, we've conquered half the world.  We must police it for a while. You know that.'

'But the other half,?' Tonder asked.

'They will fight on hopelessly for a while,' said Loft.

'Then we must be spread out all over.'

' For a while,' said Loft.

...He [Tonder] said, 'I had a funny dream.  I guess it was a dream. Maybe it was a thought.  Maybe a thought or a dream.'

Prackle said, 'Make him stop, Captain!'

Tonder said, "Captain, is this place conquered?"

"Of course," said Loft.

A little note of hysteria crept into Tonder's laughter.  He said, "Conquered and we're afraid; conquered and we're surrounded."  His laughter grew shrill.  "I had a dream - or a thought - out in the snow with the black shadows and the faces in the doorways, the cold faces behind curtains.  I had a thought or a dream."

Prackle said, "Make him stop!"

And Loft & Hunter laughed together and Loft said, "The enemy have found out how crazy.  I'll have to write that one home.  The enemy have learned how crazy the leader is."

And Tonder went on laughing. "Conquest after conquest, deeper and deeper into molasses...maybe the Leader is crazy. Flies conquer the flypaper. Flies capture two hundred miles of new flypaper!"