Chris Marker Notes from the Era of Imperfect Memory

Cactus Land

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WHAT IS “CACTUS LAND” IF NOT BARBED WIRE?

Chris Marker Owls at Noon Prelude: The Hollow Men, 72.

Cactus Land - Chris Marker Owls at Noon: The Hollow Men

Owls at noon, night birds in the day, things, objects, images that don’t belong, and yet are there. Leaflets, postcards, stamps, graffiti, forgotten photographs, frames stolen from the continuous and senseless flow of TV stuff (what I’d call the Duchamp syndrome: once I’ve spotted 1/50th of a second that escaped everybody, including its author, this 1/50th of a second is mine). Bringing into the light events and people who normally never access it. It’s from that raw material, the petty cash of history, that I try to extract a subjective journey through the 20th century.

Everybody agrees that the founding moment of that era, its mint, was the First World War, and that it was also the background on which T.S. Eliot wrote his beautiful and desperate poem The Hollow Men. So the Prelude to the journey will be a reflection upon that poem, mixed with some images gathered from the limbos of my memory.

After reproducing the above passage, Raymond Bellour, in his essay “Marker’s Gesture,” comments: “These lines, dated 6 April 2005, appeared (in English) at the entry of the dark room where Chris Marker’s Owls at Noon Prelude: The Hollow Men was presented, on the occasion of the Museum of Modern Art’s reopening in New York.” [13]

Martin, Adrian and Raymond Bellour, Chris Marker Owls at Noon Prelude: The Hollow Men, Brisbane, Australia: Institute of Modern Art, 2008.

Chris Marker
Owls At Noon Prelude: The Hollow Men 2005
two-channel eight-LCD-screen video installation
19 minutes.
All images courtesy Peter Blum Gallery, New York

owls-at-noon-bw

CHRIS MARKER: OWLS AT NOON PRELUDE – THE HOLLOW MEN

10 April–26 May 2007

Born in 1921, French director Chris Marker has been making films since the 1950s and is a pioneer of the film-essay. His approach developed out of his early experiences making travel books, combining images with texts. His big subjects are memory and travel, which are explored in relation to his media: film and photography.

Owls at Noon Prelude: The Hollow Men was commissioned by the Museum of Modern Art for its reopening in 2004. Marker’s nineteen-minute eight-screen video installation—the first part of an envisaged history of the twentieth century—was inspired by a T.S. Eliot poem reflecting on Europe as a wasteland following World War One. Marker mixes texts with still photographs of wounded veterans and achingly beautiful women to evoke the hopelessness of those who lived through Europe’s near suicide early last century, as war returns to haunt us in the Middle East. The atmospheric soundtrack is Corona by Toru Takemitsu, performed by Australian pianist Roger Woodward.

Marker explains: ‘Owls at noon, night birds in the day, things, objects, images that don’t belong, and yet are there. Leaflets, postcards, stamps, graffiti, forgotten photographs, frames stolen from the continuous and senseless flow of TV stuff (what I’d call the Duchamp syndrome: once I’ve spotted 1/50th of a second that escaped everybody, including its author, this 1/50th of a second is mine). Bringing into the light events and people who normally never access it. It’s from that raw material, the petty cash of history, that I try to extract a subjective journey through the twentieth century. Everybody agrees that the founding moment of that era, its mint, was the First World War, and that it was also the background on which T.S. Eliot wrote his beautiful and desperate poem The Hollow Men. So the Prelude to the journey will be a reflection upon that poem, mixed with some images gathered from the limboes of my memory.’

Marker has long been involved in exploring new media, from the crude, early video effects in his 1983 flaneur film Sans Soleil to his hypertextual 1998 CDRom Immemory. The Hollow Men continues this inquiry, with the computer-graphics treatments of its photographic images suggesting both the softness of watercolours and petrification.

Alongside The Hollow Men we are showing Marker’s 1962 science-fiction short La Jetée, a story of time-travel, memory, and impossible love, which has inspired many other films, including Terry Gilliam’s 1995 feature Twelve Monkeys. This deeply melancholy tale is also told using black-and-white photographs, and also concerns the aftermath of a war, an imagined World War Three.

Thanks to Peter Blum Gallery, New York.
Institute of Modern Art (IMA) Brisbane www.ima.org.au/chris-marker-owls-at-noon…

About the author

blindlibrarian

I was born in a subbasement of the Library of Babel, the son of Arcturus and Sirius B. I grew up among dusty books and metaphysical ideas, thus accounting for the condition of my mind, lungs and eyes. I studied time travel, mnemonics, taxonomy, medieval arabic astronomy, neo-platonism, hermetics, galactic linguistics, dakiniscript and the works of Borges, Montaigne, Pascal, Giordano Bruno, Erasmus, Christian Rosencreutz, Padmasambhava, Ramon Llull, Pico and Ficino and R. Steiner. I spent a year on academic scholarship at the Hall of Akashic Records studying etheric taxonomics and a summer at the Forum des Images studying the visual work of Guillaume d'Egypte. Currently, I work with Oromasis, Prince of Flames and his retinue of Salamanders cleaning up the world wide web with fire.

By blindlibrarian
Chris Marker Notes from the Era of Imperfect Memory

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