Faculty is an online magazine that highlights diversity in the study of the natural world. Through in-depth interviews, image stories, and curated content, Faculty focuses on the personal stories of people who explore and express nature in interesting and unusual ways.
Whale was seized and sold, and his Grace the Duke of Wellington received the money. Thinking that viewed in some particular lights, the case might by a bare possibility in some small degree.
[vc_row el_class=”align-center” css=”.vc_custom_1473958227837{padding-top: 10vh !important;padding-bottom: 7vh !important;}”][vc_column animation=”animation bottom-to-top” offset=”vc_col-lg-6 vc_col-md-8″][vc_column_text el_class=”text-center”]Having previously worked with…
We need you. There is a problem. Art is stuck. Its meaning is locked behind a door of which no one has the key. At least, that’s what we think. We think art is useless. That it is nothing more than an ‘ooh’ or an ‘aah’. And that art is difficult. Very difficult. The riddles that surround it almost seem unsolvable.
We think differently. Art is as hard as you make it. It is there for you as much as it is there for me, free for everyone to interpret its meaning. Art is to look and wonder, to be encouraged to think and to be motivated to act. That is the power of art. We see this and we want to share that with you.
We are Still Sunday and this is our mission:
We want to achieve this by releasing an art- and music magazine every two months and support it with events. No profit. Art above all!
Come, take our hand. There is plenty to see.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_row_inner thb_max_width=”max_width”][vc_column_inner][vc_empty_space height=”100px”][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row]
This article is an adaption of the lecture that was given as opening of the first Still Sunday festival in Brebl, November the 10th. Like the lecture, it consists of a number of fragments that are connected in a rather loose, associative way without it being an easy ongoing story. Its purpose is not to tell you how it works, not to explain the value of art nor to indicate in a directive way how to look at art. What I have tried here is to say something about what I think is a desirable approach to the world and to art. About the essence of the human existence and the role that art can play in this.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_row_inner css=”.vc_custom_1541625922966{margin-right: 300px !important;margin-left: 300px !important;}”][vc_column_inner width=”1/3″][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/3″][vc_single_image image=”1540″ alignment=”center” style=”vc_box_rounded”][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_row_inner css=”.vc_custom_1541625922966{margin-right: 300px !important;margin-left: 300px !important;}”][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”4/6″][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1545428155915{margin-right: 500px !important;margin-left: 500px !important;}”]Prologue: A cup of teaZen circle
The professor arrived at the Zen master’s house. Jubilant about all the titles and diplomas he had acquired during his long years of study, he introduced himself. He then told the Zen master the reason for his visit, namely learning the secrets of Zen.
Instead of explaining everything to him, the master invited him for a cup of tea. When the cup of tea was almost full, the Zen master, who was apparently distracted by something, kept pouring the tea, which made the tea flow all over the table.
The professor exclaimed: The cup is full! Any more will not fit in.
The master put down the teapot and answered: You are just like the cup. Filled to the brim with opinions and prejudices. Unless you empty your cup, you will not gain insight.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_row_inner thb_max_width=”max_width”][vc_column_inner][vc_empty_space height=”50px”][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1545428372182{margin-right: 100px !important;margin-left: 100px !important;}”]
It is important to clarify some concepts. ‘Art’ is a concept, a catch-all term with vague and dynamic boundaries and a beautiful design for various superficial and profound opinions and discussions.
Artworks on the other hand, are specific, existing, present. It is the works of art that we meet with, that can move us emotionally.[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1545428450270{margin-right: 500px !important;margin-left: 500px !important;}”]Language and desire.
The empty tea cup from the well-known Zen story is a metaphor. It’s almost impossible to speak about art without using metaphors and analogy, because there is an incongruity between words and images that simply cannot be bridged by direct description. But something is going on with language in itself as well: you can never exactly say what you mean to say.
Michel Foucault describes in Les mots et les choses – “The words and the things” – the beginning of creation: the names of things, given by the first man (created by God in His image) to the animals, plants, trees , stars, in short everything in creation, coincided with the things themselves. The names being the things and the things being their names. The language was completely transparent. That only changed with the construction of the Tower of Babel and the subsequent confusion of tongues. The original, divine language disappeared behind a veil of references. The linguistic sign or word now refers to something else.
You do not have to take the biblical story literally: that itself functions as a metaphor as well.
We are born as human beings and at the outset there is no separation between ourselves and the world around us. We do not have a ‘self’ yet that distinguishes us from the world and from the other, our being is unmediated. The French philosopher and psychiatrist Jacques Lacan calls this paradisiacal condition ‘jouissance’: literally translated joy. But almost immediately after our birth we are absorbed into the world of language, the world of the people, the symbolic order. We get a name, we are brought up, marked by the expectations of others: parents, family. That is necessary for a human being to live and survive, but we lose the phenomenon of unity with the world. The gap between what Lacan calls the symbolic order, the world of language and words, and our original being in the world, causes a loss that entails a lasting sense of desire. We were expelled from The human being is defined by a loss, and from that loss human existence is marked by desire.
Art shows us both desire itself and a glimpse or suspicion of the other side of the gap, the indivisibility, the unmediated unity with the world. What we have been granted are those brief moments that we experience as undivided, fulfilled and whole: the Zen master’s Satori or enlightenment, the mystic’s meetings with God.[/vc_column_text][vc_empty_space height=”50px”][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_divider_position=”bottom”][vc_column width=”1/4″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/4″][thb_image full_width=”true” image=”1542″][/thb_image][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/4″][vc_column_text]
‘Verlangen’, Frank Tarenskeen
The land-art artist Andy Goldsworthy, who performs magnificent things in and with nature, experiences these moments when, while climbing a mountain, he leans into the strong wind trying to find a balance.
Intermezzo
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_divider_position=”bottom”][vc_column width=”1/4″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/4″][vc_column_text]Creed of a painter‘I paint for friendly, benevolent people with open eyes and an open mind.’
‘Not filling your canvases with paint, but with love.’[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/4″][thb_image alignment=”alignright” image=”1544″][/thb_image][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/4″][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_divider_position=”bottom”][vc_column][vc_row_inner css=”.vc_custom_1541625922966{margin-right: 300px !important;margin-left: 300px !important;}”][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”4/6″][vc_empty_space height=”50px”][vc_column_text]
An artwork as a palace of mirrors: Las Meninas (1656) Diego Velazquez.
The fact that you must have an empty head and an unprejudiced and open minded approach to artworks, which in itself costs a lot of effort, does not mean that you do not have to take the time to look actively.
– Who is the main character of this painting, to whom is the eye drawn initially?
– Who is the person left on the canvas and what is it he is doing?
– How is a self-portrait usually made? What could we conclude from that
for the whole canvas?
– Yet something is wrong: besides the door opening with the man in it, something else lights up on the back wall. What could it be?
something on. What could that be?
– So we do not actually look in a mirror. Whose position are we as spectators put in?
In conclusion: the performance on the painting is a play with reality and appearance, which is played via us, the spectators. It only opens up to us when we activate our gaze instead of consuming it passively. We are forced to ask questions about the nature of representation, the ratio between what is real and what is representation, without expecting perfect answers.
But that is not yet everything. We get the impression of a more or less coincidental snapshot, the composition is lively and balanced, the paint treatment is superior, in short it is also ‘just’ very beautiful. It is worth taking the time and asking yourself: what is happening here?
The painting inspired Picasso to paint an extensive series of his own interpretations, in which the palace of mirrors that Velazquez presented to us, was first ‘broken into pieces’, and then reassembled again, which was Picasso’s way of adding a new layer of meaning.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_divider_position=”bottom”][vc_column width=”1/6″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”2/6″][vc_single_image image=”1546″ img_size=”large” alignment=”center” onclick=”link_image”][/vc_column][vc_column width=”2/6″][vc_column_text]Pablo Picasso – Las Meninas. After Velazquez
1957[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/6″][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_divider_position=”bottom”][vc_column width=”1/6″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”4/6″][vc_column_text]
Epilogue
Still Sunday was launched with a wonderful festival. I congratulate the initiators and I wish everyone to have open eyes, an open mind and an empty tea cup.
Frank Tarenskeen, November 2018
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/6″][/vc_column][/vc_row]Mirka Farabegoli is a visual artist. That’s what she calls herself since she graduated from the ArtEZ Academy in Arnhem, at the department of Fine Arts, in 2009. Her focus is mainly on drawings. Pencil and pastel crayons on paper. But Mirka uses a small set of other techniques, too, like etchings and silkscreen presses. And besides that, she started applying herself more to photography since 2016/2017, and took a step out of her comfort zone with the fabrication of several masks made out of woven fabric which are build from the same triangular shape that she uses as a formal element in a lot of her other works, too.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_row_inner css=”.vc_custom_1541625922966{margin-right: 300px !important;margin-left: 300px !important;}”][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”2/6″][thb_image full_width=”true” alignment=”center” lightbox=”true” image=”1227″][/thb_image][thb_image full_width=”true” alignment=”center” lightbox=”true” image=”1225″][/thb_image][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”2/6″][thb_image full_width=”true” alignment=”center” lightbox=”true” image=”1220″][/thb_image][thb_image full_width=”true” alignment=”center” lightbox=”true” image=”1229″][/thb_image][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_row_inner css=”.vc_custom_1541625922966{margin-right: 300px !important;margin-left: 300px !important;}”][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”4/6″][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1545863611283{margin-right: 500px !important;margin-left: 500px !important;}”]Mirka’s style is easily recognizable. Soft pastel-colors applied with crayons dye her mystical figures, often pictured on a monochrome* background. And even though the differences in her artworks from the different phases of her career are clearly visible, there is definitively a theme going on. ‘The in-between-world’, Mirka calls it. This world is, easily said, a world that is close to the human world, but one that contains unearthly elements. For example: the dream world. Here, Mirka’s subjects (the people/animals/mythical figures she pictures) are transformed in a way that they are still recognizable as human figures, but simultaneously would never be able to exist in this world.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_row_inner thb_max_width=”max_width”][vc_column_inner][vc_empty_space height=”50px”][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1545340074216{margin-right: 100px !important;margin-left: 100px !important;}”]Our good friend Von Abseits is a producer of sample-based Lo-Fi Hip-Hop beats. We paid him a visit in Berlin and made a mini-documentary about him, in which he talks about his music, philosophy and his way of living.
Going on a journey, venturing into the unknown, curious for what will occur on the way… At some point, you will open your eyes and your ears and you’ll be surprised by the world and yourself.
Von Abseits started the project of “Detour” by putting together different beats and arrangements that were collected on, inspired by or began on his travels. The excitement of listening back and editing led to new beats, which, together with the other material, transformed into this EP. His very first release.
Mischa Wolff a.k.a. Von Abseits’ own words on creating “Detour”:
“The process of its creation turned out to be non linear and confusing at times. The concept formed and adapted itself according to its surroundings, the atmosphere I found myself in. It felt like taking a lot of detours on the way. It helped me a lot to let this project rest and then, after some time, returning to it with fresh ears and new inspiration. All this needed to happen to let it sound like it sounds now and for me to be here at this point.”
Take a listen and enjoy!
[/vc_column_text][vc_empty_space][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][vc_empty_space][vc_column_text]Beats, Hip-Hop, Lo-fi
Extended Play record
Germany
2018[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_divider_position=”bottom”][vc_column width=”1/6″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”4/6″][/vc_column][vc_column width=”1/6″][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_full_width=”true” thb_divider_position=”bottom” css=”.vc_custom_1545341764923{margin-bottom: 0px !important;border-bottom-width: 0px !important;padding-bottom: 0px !important;}”][vc_column][vc_column_text]
You can download Detour on donation basis at Bandcamp.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_full_width=”true” thb_divider_position=”bottom”][vc_column][vc_empty_space height=”50px”][vc_column_text]On a wintery cold day in March, me and my companion David travel to Den Bosch, where, somewhere near the train station, lies a premise that reminds me of my old elementary school. It is the temporary atelier of Koos de Vries. He welcomes us in his immaculate army-green overall at the front entrance of that which indeed used to be an elementary school. Big, concrete masonry stones form the walls that are supposed to protect the handful of artists that occupy the premise. The heating stoves, one in each classroom, give away that the concrete cannot fight the cold alone. “They’ve cut off the heating system and this is the alternative for keeping us warm. An expensive solution if you ask me. Luckily, this condo is but temporary. Soon it will be taken down,” Koos explains.
The depicted colors are not natural for what is depicted. The huge field of red for example, is used for the human body as well as the air and the clouds. Koos determines his colors by what the objects feel feel like instead of what he knows they look like. Let us glance back to the beginning of the 20th century, where a group of artists did something similar. I’m talking about the expressionists. This group of artists sought, just like a lot of their contemporaries, for new ways to represent the world around them. They painted the world not how it was, but how it felt too them. And they used colors to express their feelings. As a result, their paintings were no perfect reproductions of reality (as was the tradition), but spirited explosions of color. The depicted objects kept their initial form, but the way the lines were filled in was determined emotionally. A nice example of an expressionist painter is Henri Matisse. He noticed that colors possessed more powers than simply giving-color-to-objects. “Color provokes reaction”, Matisse stated. Red can provoke feelings of anger, just as the red matador cloth enrages the bull (or so myth goes). Blue can make feel lonely and cold. With this idea, Matisse touches upon an important characteristic of colors: the use of colors in art influences the emotional reaction of the beholder.
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Nowadays, the question ‘how to determine your color?’ is answered way easier than it was in the past. In the days when paint was produced by the extraction of colors from different sorts of raw materials, some colors were way more expensive than others. Blue, for example, was not made easily. Ultramarine, a deep, full blue which, according to legend, shined on the canvas, was one of the rarest colors in existence. In order to create ultramarine, lapis lazuli, a rare gemstone mainly found in Afghanistan, had to be pulverized and mixed with some other, less valuable ingredients. Insanely expensive color, as you might have guessed. Hence, mainly holy figures are depicted with the color – think about the Holy Virgin, for example. Color supported an idea of status rather than solely expressing a feeling like the expressionists believed. Nowadays, every color imaginable is available at every art store in every town. Blue is not worth more than yellow. Color is color.[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]
The idea of ’the artists on a pedestal’ has triggered Koos to create a series of self-portraits, where his face is the subject for different color-, form- and thought-experiments. “Self-portraits contain a bit of self-glorification,” Koos says. “Paintings where the focus is aimed totally on one face, mine in this case.” It is fascinating how the focus on one object, a face, but also an apple or a candle for example, can idolize. But it’s not strange, is it? After all, there is only one object inside the frame, independent of any other object. “And so I bring myself in the picture, literally”. Koos plays with the idea of ’the artist on a pedestal’, not only by looking what happens within the frame, but also by looking how he can strengthen his message outside the frame. His self-portraits, for example, are hanged a bit higher than the rest of the paintings, just to emphasize the idea of self-glorification.
Playing with these forms of presentation is not something Koos only applies to his self-portraits. Sometimes, he uses the exposition-space fully by using standing frames, where his paintings are not meant to be put on a wall, but rather, placed on the floor. Immediately, the possibility to walk around the artwork emerges, which adds an extra dimension. Exciting stuff can happen when you add dimensions. And exciting stuff happens in Koos’ graduation-project Watching The World Burn At Bikini Beach. It consists of three panels (in art, this is called a triptych). On these panels, we see three different characters (all of them resemble a bit of Koos). From left to right, we can distinguish: the Visionary, the Slacker and the Martyr. But what connects these three characters?[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]
The middle, the position that every beholder of art occupies, always. Not only with Koos, but with all art. Always at a safe distance, a small step away from reality, ready to reflect on what is happening in front of him or her. That is where the power of art lies: the step back that enables you to reflect on the world around you, objectively. What you make of it, of Koos’ face in his self-portraits, of the color red in the first painting or of the Visionary, the Slacker and the Martyr, is entirely up to you. There isn’t always a message, but there is always the freedom to interpret.[/vc_column_text][vc_empty_space height=”50px”][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row]
THE RAFTMAN’S RAZOR is a Zen/existentialist fable about two boys fascinated by a comic book hero with no superpowers. He only wakes, shaves, thinks a philosophical thought, and drifts alone at sea. We interviewed director Keith Bearden.
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][vc_column_text]Comedy
Could you introduce yourself to our readers?
Hello lovely people. My name is Keith Bearden. I am a screenwriter and director in New York City.
Who is the Raftman?
The Raftsman is a combination of things. Mostly he is a metaphor for the disappointment of growing up and discovering that nothing is really as good as you thought or hoped it would be. Visually, he was based on people I worked with at the worst job I ever had, working at an insurance company that refused to use computers, and had a huge library of paper files. They were open 24 hours a day, and I worked there from midnight to 8 am in the morning. A lot of sad characters worked there.
The idea for the story came from your writing partner Joel Haskard and you rewrote the story in half an hour or so. What was it that drew you so vigorously to the Raftman?
I think I was drawn in by Joel’s brilliant writing and the simple absurd “hook” of the story (a superhero that does nothing), and it made me sad to read it, so I added the pathos, the emotion to it. Also, I think a comic character that does nothing is weirdly empowering. Superman and Batman make us feel weak and hopeless. The Raftman, who does nothing but shave, can make us all feel powerful and amazing.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_row_inner thb_max_width=”max_width”][vc_column_inner][vc_empty_space height=”50px”][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1541695649736{margin-right: 100px !important;margin-left: 100px !important;}”]
The medium of comics automatically makes a superhero. Like porn, you don’t have to be beautiful or sexy to be a porn star. Just be in it.
But really, just like film has it’s anti-heroes, comics, too should have their anti-superheroes. The Raftman is a symbol of super failure. He’s a middle aged man who has let everything fade away and succumbed to the sad order of rank and file society.
Ideally, with what kind of mindset would you encourage the viewer to watch the Raftman’s Razor?
I like whatever people bring to it. The film was shown at a Buddhist film festival, and neither Joel nor I know anything about Buddhism. Some people think it’s funny, some sad. Some “cute.” Just as long as the picture is big and the sound is clear, that’s what’s important in cinema.[/vc_column_text][thb_image full_width=”true” alignment=”center” lightbox=”true” image=”1213″][/thb_image][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1541800200702{margin-right: 500px !important;margin-left: 500px !important;}”]In the film we follow two boys who are completely obsessed with the story of the Raftman and how they’re searching for meaning, narrative and (maybe most of all) closure. What is the Raftman going to do with the razor? Will he cut his throat? Will he let the boat sink? When these questions are being answered in the last issue of the comic, they feel cheated and fooled with. Their interpretation of the Raftman’s story had not been in line with the intended meaning of the writer. This is a generally recurring issue in the world of arts. Viewers often don’t know what the intended meaning of the author is. As a consequence, the viewer has ultimate interpretative freedom. How do you feel about this? Is it worth more to give the viewer interpretative freedom with the danger of ‘art’ becoming ungraspable or is it more important that the artist makes his/her vision explicit so the story is read ‘correctly’?
I think the worse thing an artist can do is tell a viewer what to think or feel. I hate when museums tell you the life story or “opinion” of the artist. My friend says when you only like a photo or painting by knowing the subject or condition it was made then it’s a failure. Audience über alles. Film is a mass audience art. Time gives all film its just rewards I believe. I am old enough to see boring popular and acclaimed films forgotten and brilliant obscure films now beloved. That is a lovely feeling.
I think The Raftman is told from the point of an older man remembering his childhood. And even though he felt cheated, he was also touched and changed. I think the film is about the power of art in some way. And even though the two boys were hurt by the ruse of the artist, it still lingered with them.
All love disappoints us in some way.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_row_inner thb_max_width=”max_width”][vc_column_inner][vc_empty_space height=”50px”][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1541799267254{margin-right: 100px !important;margin-left: 100px !important;}”]
I think my work succeeds when it’s shamanic. When I don’t think about it, I don’t doubt it, and it just sort of vomits out of me. I think you have to loose self consciousness before art can happen. I think art has a worldview. And The Raftman has it—it feels like a transported or intentional reality. The best praise I ever got was someone in France who said my films take place on a planet very much like earth but not exactly.
I think cinema fails to be art when the person making it has no opinion and nothing to say and only technical skills to give. The Raftman has a lot of layers—a conflicted vision of being a young boy in America that other directors would not give to it. It’s all based on real things I’ve experienced or heard of. The sombrero stuff comes from Joel Haskard. He and his friends would ride bicycles in their small town while wearing sombreros they found at a used clothing store. (He might have been on LSD at the time. I forgot.)
But really, you know something is art when people regard it as such. It’s a mystery. Like “sexy.” When people say you’re sexy, that’s when you know it. Otherwise you never know.[/vc_column_text][thb_image full_width=”true” alignment=”center” lightbox=”true” image=”1211″][/thb_image][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1541802466793{margin-right: 500px !important;margin-left: 500px !important;}”]What do you think is the specific power of film? Is it the same power that drew you to film?
My earliest memories of life are being two years old in the hospital (asthmatic shock) and my father renting me a television to pass the time. I saw the original 1933 King Kong on television and I was hypnotized and transported. I remember that and playing with a sick little girl who got better and went home.
I think film’s power is to created a shared immersive hyper-real experience that transcends time and place. Theatre is mercurial—it changes every time you preform it. Fine art is very intimate. Cinema is shared. I can meet someone who has seen one of my favorite films and it’s instant community. We’ve both shared this same 90 minutes even if we have never met or have nothing in common otherwise. I love that power to connect people.
Also, I like that film is finite. It lasts only a certain amount of time and then is over. Like a summer love, it’s sweeter because it didn’t last.
How do you come about creating a film? Where do you draw inspiration from and how does that inspiration evolve into a film script and eventually a movie?
My inspiration comes from real life, real people and things that bother me or I feel nobody is talking about. And then it becomes pieces, usually a start and an ending, and I fill in the rest.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_row_inner css=”.vc_custom_1541625922966{margin-right: 300px !important;margin-left: 300px !important;}”][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”4/6″][thb_image full_width=”true” alignment=”center” lightbox=”true” image=”1212″][/thb_image][vc_column_text css=”.vc_custom_1545333747301{margin-right: 500px !important;margin-left: 500px !important;}”]In the Raftman’s Razor we see how time pressure works on the artist. Stuart and Jesse expect a new issue of the Raftman every third Friday, so the artist is stuck to a tight schedule. Can you share some thoughts about the concept “time”? – What are the influences of time on your creative processes?
Time is very difficult to find when filming—everything is too slow and complicated and the day goes flying away. This is why someone like Kubrick shot for a year sometimes. (Anyone can make a masterpiece if they have that much time). But time as a writer is yours to play with. My new feature film ANTARCTICA was brewing in my mind off and on for 10 years probably before I finally wrote it in 6 weeks. And then revisited and rewrote and kept thinking about it. All to prepare to film it in a very quick 19 days. So I guess preparation is crucial and focusing the time you do have.
In our ever-fast-moving-society, we feel that there is a high pressure on performance and gaining big successes (starting at a young age). What do you think about the countermovement of taking time instead of rushing your creative processes? In other words, what is the value of time in the process of creation?
Well, good things take time, and something good has a real power to last. I think the best thing to do with our overstuffed over-rushed culture is to detach yourself from it. Dominant culture is more often than not a bad influence.
On the other hand, you are what you do repeatedly, and there is a certain skill set you gain from doing things often and repeatedly.
There are many great writers or filmmakers whom made very few works. Nothing can take that away from them. My film career started at 37. I don’t think I was ready before then. Or maybe I was just scared.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row thb_full_width=”true” thb_divider_position=”bottom”][vc_column css=”.vc_custom_1541611803947{margin-right: 0px !important;margin-left: 0px !important;border-right-width: 0px !important;border-left-width: 0px !important;padding-right: 0px !important;padding-left: 0px !important;}”][/vc_column][/vc_row]
You might recognize that feeling, when the urge to create something keeps coming up or you’re in the middle of a creation process but you just can’t get on with it. This article tells about a game of creativity and how this playfulness with materials could serve as a means to get you going (again).
And now we ask you: What do you see in these photos?[/vc_column_text][/vc_column_inner][vc_column_inner width=”1/6″][/vc_column_inner][/vc_row_inner][vc_column_text]
Thank you for reading our first Still Sunday Magazine, we hope you’ve enjoyed it. Since it is still far from perfect we would really like to know what you thought of it. Down below you can leave us a message or some tips, so we can continue to build the Still Sunday experience. Thanks again, you’re awesome 🙂
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