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Love Witch Cinematic Happening (Nottingham Contemporary Playlist, 27 Oct 2017)

29 Oct

LW

On Friday I put together a loop of cut-up visual footage and played records for the Nottingham Contemporary Halloween party, this year built around a screening of Anna Biller’s The Love Witch and live music performances by Cacator & The Sirens (a first outing for the all-new, and excellent, ‘haunted radiophonic girl group’ project of Louise O’Connor, Aimee Neat & Rosanna Gould) and Toy. Decor was by Kashif Nadim Chaudry. The track-list that follows is as complete as I can remember. The only record that wasn’t actually played (but is included here anyway) is the final one: it was all cued up to be the night’s final flourish but the closing time overtook it. A few songs can be heard, accompanied by some of the visuals used on the night, in the playlist here.

Nina Simone: I Put A Spell On You
Rosemary Nichols: Once Upon A Time
Dick Hyman & Mary Mayo: Moon Gas
Frog: Witch Hunt
Don Ralke: Black Panther
Nina & Frederik: Elizabeth I & II
Lake Ruth: The Inconsolable Jean-Claude
Dana Gillespie: Foolish Seasons
Margo Guryan: Love
United States of America: Coming Down
Bob Stone: Hang Cool Teddybear
Vampire’s Sound Incorporation: The Lions & The Cucumber
Brigitte Bardot: Saint Tropez
Birds’n’Brass: Fritzy Baby
Tina Harvey: Nowhere To Run
Crystal Fountain (Wendy & Bonnie): The Night Behind Us
The Lollipop Shoppe: You Must Be A Witch
Fuzz Against Junk: Ballad of the Hip Death Goddess
Proud Mary: Follow Me
Eclection: Violet Dew
Chiyo Okumura: Love Thief
Happy Day Choir: California Dreaming
Margo: The Spark That Lights The Flame
Leslie-Ann Beldamme: The One I Love
Francoise Hardy: Le Temps Des Souvenirs
Joan Baez: The Magic Wood
Sounds Inc: Taboo
John Barry: Vendetta
Dick Hyman & Mary Mayo: Space Reflex
Poppy Family: No Blood In Bone
Buffy Sainte-Marie: He’s A Keeper Of The Fire
Francoise Legrand: Attends Moi
Susan Aviles: Eine Schone Welt
Carolyn Hester Coalition: The Journey
Julie Felix: Snakeskin
Sarofeen & Smoke: Witch
Melanie: People In The Front Row
Jun Mayuzumi: You And The Sun
Graham Bond: The Magician
The Felines: The Sneak
Pandoras: Haunted Beach Party
April March: Sugar
Poppy Family: Free From The City
Alan Tew Orchestra: Light Flight
Baker Street Philharmonic: Daydream
Shocking Blue: Love Buzz
Pete Moore Orchestra: Catwalk
Martin Denny: Incense & Peppermints
Ennio Morricone: Svolta Definitiva
Mandingo: Black Rite
Rafaella Carra: Rumore
Demis Roussos: Let It Happen
Donna Summer: I Feel Love
Jane Weaver: I Need A Connection
Belbury Poly: Scarlet Ceremony
The Soundcarriers: This Is Normal
Lal & Mike Waterson: Bright Phoebus

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Writing Objects Part III: Masks and Masking (Primary, June 4, 2014)

5 Jun
Leonora Carrington

Leonora Carrington

For the third and final Writing Objects session at Primary, using text to create responses to Jonathan Baldock‘s Multiple points in this crude landscape, we looked at the various forms that masks can take and the even more various ways in which masks can be deployed in the creation of texts. Strictly speaking, a mask is a physical object that covers all or part of the face, from behind which the wearer looks out. Technically, this means no text can truly be a mask. But in a more expanded sense it’s clear that in the different personas we project in our choices of clothes or accessories, our movements between behaviour at work and in private, our editing of images and interests to represent ourselves on social media, we all, in practical terms, use masks.

To give a sense of how this kind of masking can operate, we watched an excerpt from Forced Entertainment’s recent re-staging of 12am: Awake and Looking Down (1993), a durational piece in which, as the company themselves explain: “five silent performers endlessly reinvent their identities using stacks of cardboard signs with which they name themselves, and a store of jumble-sale clothing (coats, dresses, suits, anoraks, trousers, pyjamas) from which they dress and re-dress…”. The minimal resources and suggestive capsule descriptions on the cardboard signs bring to life a range of archetypal characters in their wider imaginative contexts and suggest multiple potential narratives.

The tones of voice, degrees of intimacy and formality we adopt for different email correspondences (personal and professional, with close friends or casual acquaintances) serve a similar function to Forced Entertainment’s cardboard signs in presenting a shorthand for different aspects of ourselves in different contexts and situations – some close to our real selves, others almost entirely fictional. Even in supposedly pure self-expression, we tend to highlight insecurities to win sympathy or strengths to seem more capable and attractive. Paradoxically, an actual mask might distance us from this kind of everyday self-consciousness and liberate us to explore other possibilities.

Leonora Carrngton: Self-Portrait (1937)

Leonora Carrington: Self-Portrait (1937)

In Leonora Carrington‘s short story, The Debutante (1939), a mask plays a role in the narrative but the text itself masks autobiographical content behind the appearance of a darkly surreal fairy-tale. The characters, a young girl and a hyena, represent the constrained and liberated sides of Carrington herself, who wrote it at the age of 22. A raw 16mm film version of The Debutante by Ric Warren, made in 1994, illustrates Carrington’s point that the human face acquired for the hyena is little more than a skin, a civilised veneer covering the hyena’s true face. This is – visibly and significantly – a mask. Only when the hyena gleefully reverts to her authentic mask is the girl’s own potential revealed.

In the Nigerian writer Amos Tutuola‘s novel The Palm Wine Drinkard (1952), there is an early scene in which the narrator follows a handsome gentleman at the market. At first, he is consumed by feelings of inferiority: why can he not be as handsome as this gentleman? Yet time passes, the market winds down, and he sees the gentleman leaving another piece of his own body at each stall he passes, until he is finally exposed as a floating skull with no body, no arms or legs, no skin or skeleton, not even a face of his own. His substance is borrowed, rented by the hour on the market. As a metaphor for consumerism, the sale of identity and appearances, it’s a remarkably prescient passage.

Perhaps the unsettling quality of masks, exploited in many films, including Georges Franju’s Judex (1963), relates to this sense that appearance and reality can no longer be matched or trusted. A mask can erase or expose us, free us from responsibility for our actions or to express what is forbidden. A mask can also break habitual frames of reference. The Portuguese modernist poet Fernando Pessoa used his various literary personas in this way. We concluded the session with an excerpt from Jan Svankmajer’s Jabberwocky (1971). This neatly drew together threads from all three sessions: everyday objects are performed, Lewis Carroll’s incantatory poem is recited, and the film’s political meanings are both blatant and ingeniously masked.

Twins Seven Seven: Amos Tutuola (c.1964)

Twins Seven Seven: Amos Tutuola (c.1964)

 

Notes from session one, looking at actors as objects and objects as actors, are here.

Notes from session two, looking at incantation and ritual, are here.