Leaf

Leaf

Thursday, January 24, 2013

Evocative Power

2004
A narration, regardless of its nature, should address the senses first.

Whether written or oral, whether a book or a performance, it should aim straight at the audience's heart, rather than at their brain.

It is necessary to understand that any acting or writing technique will be totally useless if it cannot move a reader or an audience. The purpose of story-telling is to touch, to amuse, to cheer up or even to sadden, to teach or to exemplify, to entertain and to catch interest. We also narrate to bore our children to sleep!

The overabundance of technology, plastic, glossy colours and flawless shapes, we should admit, has changed the course of our spiritual evolution. It feels, sometimes, that our soul too has become a glossy, dull-coloured and rectangular piece of plastic. We carry it in our cell phone case and has a retina display  We often share the impression that our feelings have become mere apps. Their logos appear on a display, they have bright colours and are expressed through smileys.

When life can no longer do so, art can bring us back to experiencing certain genuine and raw emotions. In order for this to happen, though, art has to aim at the core of those feelings. It has to pierce through the hard shell that envelops them like walnuts. It has to shake them because they are dormant.
Art can only succeed if it is expressed through a strong evocative power.

A narration is evocative when it touches the senses; it brings the audience or readers to see, hear, smell, taste, or touch the narrated context or object.
It is evocative when the mood it creates enshrouds the audience. It is evocative when its messages are not strictly conceptual, but through the reproduction of sounds, smells, visions and flavours it brings us to facing the beautiful side of life, the romantic one. Or even the ugly and sad ones. Isn't this what we need when Life grants us an interval?

Do you agree?


*I apologize for the incompleteness of this discourse. This post represents for me the first draft of a totally new awareness that is inexorably and quite drastically changing not only the course of my "artistic" endeavours, but of my life as well. I hope, in a nearest future, to be able to stand on a firmer ground and be, then, more precise.   


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Wednesday, January 9, 2013

To Live in Fear

Giorgio De Chirico -
Quite an experience to live in fear, isn't it. 
That's what it is to be a slave. 

Rutger Hauer - Blade Runner  


If you type "Dear" on your cell phone, the T9 will immediately and automatically translate it as "Fear".
A momentary mental lapse or an inaccurate proofreading will add a sinister hue to the text to your beloved.

We all live in Fear.
Fear stands by, lurking, sometimes unexpected, catching us unawares, whenever we deal with the unknown, with the dark, the void; feelings are unknown. Unknown and unpredictable are the twists and changes that feelings are subjected to. These transcend promises cast in steel and sealed with fire. Only blind faith is safe from Fear, and blind faith is rare, thank goodness. 

It wakes you up at night, Fear, but it won't make you scream and sweat; it's subtle, stealth: it keeps you awake, Fear, and blends with the night lights from the window. It creaks through the wooden floor as you sleep and is quiet, discreet. Silent.

It is the awareness, sometimes a paradoxically unconscious one, that you might lose what you have, fail all attempts, and face your fate alone. It is the realization that once things change, they cannot go back to what they were and that time is the most inexorable of enemies.
Fear is indeed to be a slave. It subsides once you resign, but that doesn't make you less of a slave.
It is knowing that we have little control over what is important to us.

The suicidal determination of Vangelis's music, here from the soundtrack to Blade Runner, best depicts my idea of fear.

I fear losing the beautiful things I have.

What is your greatest fear?

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