poemimage

Where text meets image. Where the visual intersects the literary.

Month: January, 2021

GIF Experiments: 10 (Circling a small body of words)

‘Circling a small body of words’ sounds like building a campfire or hunting for survival. I am still dealing with one vignette on page 70. Still walking to Eurydice’s car with her (continuing from GIF Experiments:8) and now answering her question. When creating the GIF I am aiming for a variety of textures and movement that convey emotions.

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GIF Experiments: 9 (Variations in the Middle of the Night)

I woke up at 2:30 am and made coffee. No lights in any other windows.

Thoughts while creating 22 new images for Page 70, vignette #2 from Meme-Noir:

I heard a song that reminded me. Those of a certain age who participated in a counter-culture activity will remember ‘coming down’ after ‘peaking.’ Peaking was a moment when the absolute cosmic explanation for Why made itself known as you rushed straight up into it. Just as you grasped it (inside your head) it vanished. You tried to remember, wasn’t it only a second ago, but it was gone. And suddenly you were ‘coming down.’ Coming down in your body, through your body, was fraught. I started thinking about Theosophy-inspired landscapes and symbols. How those artists would depict peaking. I thought about young people with no tribal initiation or shamanic guidance thrown into powerful hallucinogenic experiences without protection.

Ten of the new images:

 

GIF Experiments: 8 (One line from a vignette)

Because I created such a large number of digital images… to accompany the second vignette from page 70 in Meme-Noir, I decided to create separate GIFs. In this first GIF I use the first line of the vignette only, and approach the words from various angles. How memory repeats significant conversations that perhaps didn’t go the way they could have. That will be more clear in the second GIF to come.

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I appreciate the funding from the Digital Originals program to create GIFS from my recent book Meme-Noir.

 

Hoax

The chandeliers hung like earrings above the empty ballroom

A saxophone home to spiders

One bare shoulder on a marble bust.