Watching others view my work
Last night I got an unexpected present.
Click images to enlarge.
Back a few weeks ago I put together a 20 minute reel of video I’d created using time lapse film techniques, for the Glow Festival in Oracle. I also wrote music for each of the five short films.
I was so exhausted from writing grants and filming that I conked out the opening night of Glow, and was filming the Tucson Flamenco Festival the second night. So I missed the show.
But late last week, Sharon Holnback, creator of the Glow Festival, asked if I’d like to have the 5 pieces shown on the side of a building, amidst some highlights form the Glow festival that she was bringing in for the first Toole Avenue Art Walk (TAART). It was a very kind gesture, and an experience I really enjoyed.
Honestly, it was so cool to see my latest art video piece, titled “The Train That Brought My Baby Back From Hell,” projected just feet from where it was filmed, and with the soundtrack pumping from the speakers. I enjoyed overhearing people’s reaction to it, often without them knowing that I had created it. Most seemed to like it, and that was a relief.
Still, the biggest fun was watching people walk in front of the projector and into the image. Into a sunset or a landscape, or into the path of a speeding train. Into the crowd of people at the All Souls Procession. Suddenly it became shadow puppet theatre. Some stood in still silhouette. Some posed, Some crushed heads. A good time was had by all.
A very close second was watching a young couple hanging all over each other, dancing to my music in each other’s arms.
Never saw that before.
It felt good.
They’d moved on to full-on necking in place by the time I grabbed my phone camera, so I never got a shot of them. But at least I got to see it, and that was wonderful.
Another highlight was seeing a lady spot herself in my slow motion video from last year’s All Souls Procession. “There I am!” she exclaimed delightedly, pointing to a figure walking with the AIDS ribbon.
You never really see your work until you watch others experience it. Then you know you did something that clicked.
Thank you Sharon for a night I’ll remember for the rest of my life.