Posts tagged with "Film":
Although a more affordable option compared to high-rise apartment blocks that a majority of Seoul residents call home, Banjiha are dark, damp, poorly ventilated, and often too compact to support the number of people living in them. Seventy-eight percent of Seoul’s semi-basement dwellers are in the bottom 30 percent income bracket, per city statistics cited by the Korea Herald. The Banjiha upgrade initiative, spearheaded by the city in partnership with the Korean Energy Foundation, will begin accepting applications from households in March with plans to expand the range of applications eligible to apply in subsequent years. The financial aid is being dispersed as a larger effort to help low-income Seoul residents improve and boost efficiency in their aging, with priority given to semi-basement apartment dwellers. Featured prominently in Parasite as the primary residence of the scheming Kim family, Seoul’s semi-basement apartments have garnered a significant amount of attention since the film’s release. As detailed by AN in a recent article, Bong used the built environment—specifically two very different modes of housing, the dreary semi-basement apartment and the ultramodern, quasi-suburban luxury home—to propel the film’s pointed social commentary. “Banjiha is a space with a peculiar connotation... It’s undeniably underground, and yet you want to believe it’s above ground,” the Times quoted Bong as saying following Parasite’s premiere at the 2019 Cannes Film Festival. “There’s also the fear that if you sink any lower, you may go completely underground.” While the Seoul Metropolitan Government’s Banjiha-earmarked financial aid program won’t lift semi-basement dwellers fully above ground, it does function as a life preserver of sorts, helping to prevent thousands from sinking even further. Just call it the Parasite Effect.
#Parasite demonstrates how great cinema can affect social change. “The Seoul City government will financially support 1,500 households living in semi-basement apartments...to improve their living conditions.” https://t.co/cG5072ifCc— Nancy Wang Yuen (@nancywyuen) February 19, 2020
Ruins of cities and of fortresses Lay scattered all about, with precious stores, Plots ill-contrived, broken alliances, Feuds and vendettas and abortive wars…The booklet exemplifies the multilayered experiences made possible by Tan’s presentation. Whether one reads the entire text or none of it, the images on display resonate with each other and our own experience with historical and personal ruins. As one's eye moves about the real and imagined vestiges of Tan’s historical facts and fictions, we are reminded that our knowledge of history is shaped by the texts and ruins it leaves for us, and our grasp of the past is based on the fickle lens of memory. Analog film enthusiasts will enjoy Ruins (2020), a room-sized dual projection of one high definition video and one 16 mm film, both of which project a similar, but not identical, 4-minute film on a continuous loop. Each feed is a silent amalgamation of static shots that variously frame the dilapidated arches, freestanding columns, and crumbling surfaces of the Grand-Hornu, an abandoned mining complex in Belgium—a company town (cité ouvrière)—built between 1810 and 1830. Projected onto opposite walls, the films demonstrate their inherent fragility; the HD digital video provides a cool, crisp contrast to the soft yellow images of the celluloid, subtly evoking the longevity of each medium. Where analog film can last for at least (as far as we know) 100 years, the digital film will, without being transferred to a newer memory chip, decay into an unplayable video file after less than a decade. However, Ruins simultaneously highlights an important caveat to this comparison: The 16 mm film runs through the projector on a continuous loop, the act of playing the print decaying it to the point of being unusable after a matter of days, when a new print must then be made from the master copy. The holistic conception of the exhibition, and the many avenues through which one may enter and exit the concepts in play, is characteristic for Tan, yet the austerity of her images here provides subtle emphasis on the theme of shadow and light. A set of photogravures—a type of mechanical print traditionally made from a photographic negative—are the first thing visitors observe upon entering the gallery, their high contrast, black-and-white images display screenshots from Archive’s virtual stacks. If, as Walter Benjamin (one of the many historical luminaries with whom Tan is in direct conversation) suggests, history decays into images, then Tan’s cinematic musings on the material future of architectures lays bare, with her usual deftness, the delicacy of both structure and image in the face of our eternal, ever-evolving, unavoidably-mediated future. Archive / Ruins runs through February 15.
CALL FOR STUDENT FILMSWe seek 1 to 2-minute student films about women. This project will continue the efforts to write women into architectural history, this time via video.
SPONSORED BY ARCHITEXX
THE SUBJECT OF YOUR FILMS:We seek to have the subjects of these 1-minute films be about women architects, defined expansively. These are women who were educated as architects, or educate others to become architects. Women from wide and diverse practices, demonstrating the myriad ways women trained as architects have participated and continue to participate in the built environment and design related fields. For example, these could be women who spent their careers at large or mid-sized or small firms, in City Planning departments, as sole practitioners, as educators, historians, as landscape designers, as well as those who go on into other design-related industries such as interiors, exhibition design, film, production design, art installations, gaming, fashion, to name but a few. This project seeks to demonstrate that women have been vital to the practice of architecture for decades, while radically under recognized. This project works with other global efforts to change that!
THE FOLLOWING QUESTION MUST BE INCLUDED IN YOUR FILM:What about this architect's work has inspired / impacted / influenced you or you learned from?
FILM REVIEW + SCREENING PROCESS:Each of the finished films will be reviewed by an esteemed jury of architects, design professionals and industry leaders. A selection of the films will be publicly screened during New York City’s Archtober month-long focus on architecture and will be available online once they have screened.
FILM SUBMISSION REQUIREMENTS:1. Each film is to be between 1 to 2 minutes long 2. Opening and closing credits including required citations, may be up to an additional 10 seconds in total 3. We encourage original content and in-person interviews whenever possible as well as the use of public domain images and music. Please see the following for more ideas: https://archive.org/ http://freemusicarchive.org/member/cheyenne_h/blog/A_Ton_of_Public_Domain_Songs 3. Films may be in any language, non-English audio or on-screen text, must have English subtitles 4. All submissions are due by May 31st 8pm EST, including sending a downloadable link to email@example.com that includes the short film and two (2) still images from the film. For some inspiration, take a look at #wikiD, Rebel Architette, Una dia / Una Arquitecta https://www.architexx.org/subtexxt/wikid-women-wikipedia-design https://www.facebook.com/architettearchiwomen/ https://www.facebook.com/undiaunaarquitecta/
WOMEN ARCHITECT 1MIN FILM PROJECT CHAIRS
LORI BROWN, PROFESSOR, SCHOOL OF ARCHITECTURE, SYRACUSE UNIVERSITY
DALE B. COHEN, ASSOC. AIA, OWNER OF DALE COHEN DESIGNSTUDIO
The following is excerpted from Film Forum: Under Construction 2018.
The images that you see here were captured on a worksite for the expansion of Film Forum, a place where people gather with a group of strangers to watch a story unfold —something that is increasingly unusual these days. They are a celebration of an ancient ritual married to a modern technology. The technology develops but the ritual decays.What do these photographs say about watching movies? What do they recall and what do they suggest? How is it that beneath the formal pleasures of their design, their abstraction, and their use of color, they conjure something concrete about shared experience? Like a lot of abstractions, and certainly like many of Jan Staller’s photographs, these pictures are not only about a surface but the materiality below the surface. In this case the materials are the brick and mortar of the theater itself and the steel and brittle celluloid of projectors, reels and filmstrips—objects that look now like sacraments of the earliest technology of the art form. They are evocative because they are tactile. My first exposure to the movies was more sterile and electronic. It took place alone, in a dark room, late at night in front of a television set. In this respect, it was closer to the way that most people watch movies today. As I got older I went to movie theaters, spending hours of my youth in palaces called The Orpheum, The Lyric, and more prosaically (and appropriately), The Suburban World. There was something fundamentally different about going to a theater. The impact of the experience was magnified literally by the scale of its presentation and emotionally by the act of sharing it with a community. And just as importantly, by its appeal to the sensorium, something that most modern technology abjures. The theater was itself a machine, one that you entered, was turned on, and then would grind into action. Its constituent parts were hidden but somehow felt. That’s part of what these photographs evoke, but for me they also evoke memories of my early days as a film editor, when you felt the film in your hands and heard the clack of the sprockets as it ran through the machines. But before waxing too nostalgic about the older ways of doing things, it may be useful to think about two movies that I saw for the first time at Film Forum. They were both by F. W. Murnau, a German filmmaker who came to Hollywood in 1926. The first, Sunrise, was made in 1927 and is certainly one of the greatest movies of the silent period. It was a huge success, and William Fox, the man who had brought Murnau to America and who was the producer of Sunrise, asked him to do another movie. In his youth, Murnau had been something of a gear head—he was fascinated by cameras and new technology. In the interim between Sunrise and his next film for Fox, The City Girl, sound had been introduced. The new technology was alien to Murnau as an older man. He couldn’t reconcile it with his taste or his process and The City Girl was made and released as a silent film with title cards instead of dialogue. Watching it now one wonders what it would have been like otherwise. A cautionary tale about aging out of your era. The movies are wedded to technology, and for better or worse as the technology advances it changes not only how they’re made, but what we actually see and how we watch them. At a certain point resistance seems quaint and misguided. The opportunities in most cases outweigh the things we lose. The sensual pleasures of pre-digital machines are probably lost forever, but the act of gathering to watch stories, to be part of an audience, would be dangerous to lose. It is ancient and fundamental. So let’s celebrate one of the few institutions that continues to expand that opportunity. These pictures do, and they do something else—they get under the skin.