Archive for the ‘Derek Jarman’ Tag
As with Martin Kippenberger installation work, I wanted to create a work based on Derek Jarman’s Garden. The first few installation shots I looked into the abyss of a wooden latrine. Inside, there was a plant, I laughed continuously at the weed.
Derek, in chronological order, records the work and life that stands at the foot of Derek Jarman’s humour and spirit of being an artist. The filmmaker and actress, Isaac Julien and Tilda Swinton respectively, have produced and narrated a film on his life whereby the use of language is perpetuated to give some type of palpable meaning to British audiences alone, and to their own personal relationship with him.
Through his interviews, notes and film footage, Jarman concurs that his sexuality was deeply repressed, and this facet is the undercurrent that runs through his work and is the bases of his films like, Sebastiane (1976), which had British audiences eager to peek at two men frolicking on a rock. Derek showed rare 8 film footage of the artist and his journey into a series of experimental and time lap pieces.
At the Trinidad Film festival, Trinidadian audiences were privy to a man who expressed himself as who he was, and addressed subjects as sensitive and stigmatic as homosexually, HIV and of its oppression by the British government under Margret Thatcher. Jarman believed that film could be transcribed as painting and moreover understood his limitations as a painter. Film could transcribe into layering of the motifs that surrounded his inner infatuation of the self and self representation.
Isaac Julien’s objective is to arouse the interest and importance of his work to young British artists to a man who fought for his rights in the public eye, and lived the end of his life with dignity, acceptance and of his love of being. Julien’s documentary is to acknowledge Derek Jarman as one of the most influential filmmakers in British cinema.
Isaac Julien with the mike, Chris Ofili to his right, Peter Doig, standing, Che Lovelace from his left at the Studio Film Club, Trinidad
Although of his importance as a contemporary filmmaker, Isaac Julien’s production was compounded by an overly artistic and unmemorable monologue by Tilda Swinton which couldn’t be understood as she wondered through the streets of London and at the subject’s former cottage and stone garden. Derek failed to stimulate any interest at its premiere at studio film club during the Trinidad Film Festival. Eh, what de fock she manguing we with?
I live my life as myself
Derek Jarman’s experimental films based on montages of memory, futuristic motifs or distant thoughts overladed by polarizing flares and by his sense of his mortality, love and companionship.
Derek Jarman is considered one of the most important British independent filmmakers. His body of work spans from the 1970s till his death in 1994 and consists of interpretations of historic periods set in England and Europe. In 1993, he produced a film called, Blue. In was a reflection of his life though a man suffering from an illness which impaired his vision. Blue was Derek Jarman’s last film from an artist who lived his life as he was, and lay the foundation for future artists to have the inner determination on subjects such as sexually, sexual identity and AIDS.
At the upcoming film festive in Trinidad and Tobago, 2008, the British filmmaker Isaac Julien is screening his film about the artist. Derek is a montage of interviews, film footage related to Jarman’s life. Julien’s work plays on the subject of blackness, revolt and on a theme that bonds them both and that is homosexuality, identity and love.
Isaac Julien, centre, next to Peter Doig at the Studio Film Club, Port of Spain for his premiere of Derek as part of the Trinidad and Tobago Film Festival.
Excerpts from Blue:
Lost boys sleep forever in a dear embrace, salt lips touching
submarine gardens cool marble fingers touch an antique smile
shore sounds whisper deep lover, drifting on the tide forever
smell of him, dead good looking, in beauty’s summer
He blue jeans around his ankles, bliss in my ghostly eye
Kiss me on my lips, on the eyes
Our name will be forgotten, in time, no one will remember our worth
Our life will pass like the traces of a cloud, it be scattered like mist that is chased by the rays of the sun
Around time is passing of a shadow
Our lives will run like sparks through the stubble
I place the def in you, blue, upon your grave