Time, La Jetee, Thomas

Chris Marker,  from Wim Wenders'  'Tokyo-Ga'

Although I am an English teacher, my undergrad degree is in digital art, meaning videography, sound recording and composition, photography, web stuff and so on.

I like to make composite photos, which I have been doing since the early nineties, and during my schooldays I also made an installation piece using Jitter (now reworked into Gen) whereby I took a composite photograph and animated each frame to re-create the image as a kind of ‘travelling shot’ through time. The idea was to compare looking at the entire image as a composite, all at once – like a painting, even though it is composed of fragmented shots, - and as a series of images in time, like a film.

Single frame from 'New Cloo'

 

Composite image of 'New Cloo'

Interestingly, one of the controls in making the images in the first place (for me) is that the photos must (naturally) be shot sequentially, and quickly. Shooting them quickly forces framing, and (I hope) accentuates the way our eyes move naturally when we are looking at something, called saccadic eye movement.

So creating a travelling shot was a way of re-visiting the process of shooting the composite image. My interest was in the two kinds of time represented by these two kinds of representation. They were intended to be projected, facing each other, as an installation, which I never got around to doing. I made a small video piece instead.

 Another of my projects at Emily Carr was a short documentary, an interview with Oliver Kellhammer, called Four Gardens. When I was working on it, I made a small poster called “Every Shot in Disappearing into the Landscape”, a composite image containing the first frame of every shot used in the film, read down from top left.

Every Shot in Disappearing into the Landscape

I gave a copy to my friend Thomas Ziorjen, a painter and digital image maker.

Thomas Ziorjen - 'Echoshark'

Some time later he sent me an image called “Every Shot in La Jetee”, where he had excised and collected the first frames of every shot in Chris Marker’s landmark film, shot in 1962. We both love this film – one of its extraordinary qualities is that only one image in the entire 28 minute film is moving. The rest were shot as still photos. When I first saw La Jetee, I didn’t even realize this, so powerful was its effect on me. The film seemed to inhabit an entirely new and different temporality.

A shot from 'La Jetee' - from the web

Marker was one of the most extraordinary of twentieth century film makers. He also made Sans Soleil, and wrote Alain Resnais’ ‘Night and Fog’, among many other projects.

Chris Marker, Self Portrait - from franceculture

Thomas created this as a kind of vertical scroll. I tend to think of it as, perhaps, a kind of modernist kakejiku, a piece of art, in Japan often placed in the tokenoma, or shrine place, in a home. The images are read across from top left.

Every Shot in 'La Jetee'

In February, 2012, Thomas succumbed to his long struggle with depression and killed himself. I recently decided to recreate the low-res image he sent me in order to print it to remember him by.

Thomas Ziorjen - 'Wake'

I just found out (today!) that Chris Marker had, also, died: on July 29^th, 2012. Somehow I had completely missed this.

From Flikr - flaneure

Faifa

I was invited by a fellow teacher to go on a day-trip to Faifa.  Faifa is a town built on top of a mountain. 

In Canada almost no one lives on top of mountains, because it's too cold. But in the Asir Mountains of southern Saudia, it’s the mountains that receive all the rain that never falls on Jizan. The winds carry it right over us, and it falls when they are pushed up the mountains. So the mountain-tops (Faifa is about 1200 metres, I think) receive a lot of rain; the montaine plateau around nearby Abha (2000+ metres) is much greener than Jisan, and has temperatures almost as cool as Vancouver's.

Faifa, off in the distance

So we rented a car and went to Faifa.

Dennis runs off into the wadi

 Along the way, we stopped at an un-named (to us, anyway) wadi, (with water in it!).

Mark displays commendable caution.

We went walking for a bit, and encountered two young camel herders.

Herders, Yemeni style.

They were very gracious. Dennis wanted to hang around with them for awhile; then we pressed on.

!

Flowering opuntia.

A fountain along the road.

At the turnoff where Faifa starts (I think), I saw a wild fountain. Those buildings are in one of the old Yemeni/ southern Asir styles of mountain architecture: square stone with quartz inlaid around the windows and doors. Those towers are houses. 


Note the Toyota 4wd pickup -  those are everywhere, highly regarded, and rockin'! That one looks ex-army. The farmers love them. Foreigners are not allowed to buy them.

Downtown Faifa

It turned out to be a great trip, as we drove on the narrow and winding roads all over the mountain. I don't know the population of Faifa; there must be 15-20,000 people there, but the houses are spread all around because the hills are so steep. 

There are still some old houses standing; the mountain style is square, with small windows, or sometimes towers. Occasionally they are combined. They remind me of a fort - a man's home is truly his castle here!

This is also where the Flower Men of Asir live. They wear garlands of flowers in their hair, and sari-like wraps in startling colors; black with brilliant red and sky blue stripes on it, for example. Those camel herders are wearing them. These wraps function as clan identifiers which tell families (and villages) apart like tartans do in Scotland. This mountain culture is said to be 5,000 years old - it is 'Arabia Felix', the pagan pre-Islamic culture. 'Arabia Felix' : 'Happy Arabia' in the latin of the Romans, who came this way and knew them. North of here, on the other side of the Asir Mountains, is a large ruin complex that I was hoping to visit, but never made it to, outside of Najran.

I saw a youtube video recently, in which the mountain men performed a special dance celebrating ghat cultivation - now illegal, but it has been grown here for millenia. They did a very distinctive hand clapping thing, which I had not seen before.

A student showed me another video, taken in Faifa, of a large wedding. There were 300 men there - and 295 of them were carrying AK47's! Saudi Arabia's is a gun culture, and many people own these weapons, which, it appears, are completely legal.  These men, two at a time, took turns walking into the middle of a large space, and firing off a dozen or 15 rounds into the air with their weapons. The bullets, I am told, are not cheap. They do this for about a half an hour as a celebration of the wedding. I have heard them on occasion in the early hours of the morning in Jizan.

 We came across a local restaurant and decided to have lunch, but arrived during saleh - prayer time - so we had to wait about 20 minutes until it re-opened. We had kabseh and excellent mutton broth soup, and a very strange green soup made from spinach and okra. It is so gooey it's hard to take a spoonful of! Very popular in Jizan, too.

The roads are mostly paved and quite narrow. We found it necessary to be cautious, as, occasionally some young buck would come roaring and rattling down the hill, in fine Saudi style, utterly, seemingly, disregarding pedestrians, playing children, and other cars on the road alike. Everyone got out of his way - the path seeming to clear by magic, then filling again in his wake.  
 

By this time it was 3 pm, and time to head home. On the way down, we met a student we knew, and he promised us a visit to the local hot-spring next time.  
 

We arrived back in Jisan at dinner time; tired, happy - and hot.  

 

 Some photos were taken by Dennis Giesbrecht. Thanks!  I took the rest on my ipod...

A Picnic with Mr. Yatimi

I was invited by Mr. Yatimi, one of my students, to visit his home village of Al Ardha, and his nearby ancestral lands in the Asir Mountains, about 80 km. northeast of Jizan. It was January. Jerry, my friend and co-teacher, also came along.

Mr. Yatimi arrived around 8 am. in a Toyota Hilux with his friend Mr. Harisee. Mr. Harisee spoke quite good English; it transpired that he was a second year English student at the university in Abha.

We drove towards the mountains, through nearby Abu Arish and continuing north east on the highway. Along the way, Mr. Harisee pointed out a valley going east. He said djinns lived in there. I asked if he and his friends ever went there. He looked astonished and replied “of course not!”

Goats on the road

We reached Al Ardha around 8:45 and turned off into the market area. Today (Thursday) was market day! We spent a wonderful hour wandering around the stalls of herb sellers, farmers selling vegetables, candy makers, knife sellers, it was amazing.  Many of the vendors were older women wearing, instead of the full head covering expected in Jizan, broad brimmed straw hats. I’m told this is the local custom.

There were even herds of goats and sheep for sale. An artisan was making flower garlands worn by the local ‘Flower Men’. This custom is of the ancient culture of Asir, more Yemeni than Saudi. We bought some vegetables and Mr. Yatimi insisted on buying some candy and flower wreaths for us.

Leaving the market, we headed northeast further into the hills. Al Ardh is very spread out; at one point, Mr. Yatimi turned right into a house. “Wait here”, he said. Mr. Harisee informed us this was Mr. Yatimi’s wife’s family house, where he was living until he could finish his own house.

Mr. Yatimi returned 20 minutes later with some plastic bags full of containers of something, and greens. This was breakfast, prepared by Mrs. Yatimi. A young uncle and another friend joined us. I didn’t clearly get their names.

A friend, an uncle, Jerry, Mr. Yatimi, Mr. Harisee

Onward into the mountains. We passed Mr. Yatimi’s house, half finished, on the left.

The road leads up to a large park, still under construction. We stopped here for breakfast. It was delicious: greens, and a tomato and eggplant mixture, and the local bread, (cooked in a tandoor).

Breakfast with Mr. Yatimi

After a while, we headed up into the mountains. The road, though paved, was extremely steep in places – Mr. Yatimi insisted that only a four-wheel drive vehicle could get up here, though we saw a few corollas around!

Interestingly, there were houses all over the place, right up to the peaks. I don’t know how people live up here, in this sere, harsh environment…where do they get their water?

 Eventually Mr. Yatimi parked at a pullout. Pointing to a nearby house, he said “That’s my uncle’s house”. “These are my family’s lands”, and, pointing across the steep, narrow valley: “that’s where Yemen starts”.  We sat and contemplated the astounding landscape for a while. On the ridge to the left, he pointed out a standing stone, saying it is mentioned specifically in the Koran.

I reached out and took hold of a nearby plant. He explained “If you crush the leaves of that one and put it on your eyes, you will go blind.” I quickly let go of the suddenly menacing stem.  Pointing to another, he said “If you eat this, it will kill you.” I decided to keep my hands to myself.

We walked up to the corner underneath his uncle’s house, and looked over the vertiginous bank. There was a brand new road there – and we were looking out towards the Red Sea, whence we had come from! An amazing view.

We dropped back down to the plain, and made our way to Mr. Harisee’s house. We were going to watch a football game with some of his friends and family. Mr. Harisee lived on a farm; we were going to spend our time in a one room cement block building, perhaps 20 feet square, a kind of combination bedroom and clubhouse for the boys. The walls were lined with the traditional platform bench/beds. It was equipped with a TV and a large hookah.
 

Meanwhile I had wandered off a bit and stumbled into the inner family compound, where a number of children and women were relaxing. They seemed utterly unfazed by, and pretty relaxed about, my presence. I smiled, waved and said hi, then wandered back to the clubhouse. This was not something that would ever have happened in Jizan! Mr. Harisee brought us coffee, tea and dates.

Some few minutes later, Mr. Harisee’s father came to visit us, dressed formally in a crisp white thobe, and curved knife (Janbiya; Khanjar). He looked about 65 or 70. I was quite touched by his politeness. He only stayed for a bit, as he could not converse with us…Later Mr. Harisee told me he was the same age as me (53).

Later a big platter of Kabseh showed up. Kabseh is the most common traditional dish eaten in the kingdom, composed of a mound of oiled, spiced rice, with a roasted chicken on top of it. It is eaten with the hands. Afterwards we made our way to a water pipe outside and washed our hands with powdered dish detergent. This seems to be the norm, as I found the same detergent offered in houses, and at roadside restaurants along the highway.

Mr. Harisee’s uncle turned out to be 23 years old (this is not unusual) and had only two days previously graduated from Abha University with an MA in English – he was now to become an English teacher. I congratulated him, thinking what a long road he had already travelled, from this quiet village to Abha and his new life as a professional…it turns out that his small, dignified uncle (Mr Harisee’s father), who spoke not a word of English, was supporting these young men in their development. It seemed an extraordinary act of generosity on his part.

In the late afternoon we made our way back to Jizan. A wonderful trip made possible by the great generosity of Mr. Yatimi and Mr. Harisee.