Saturday, 5 November 2011
Sunday, 18 September 2011
Thursday, 15 July 2010
'New World'
a link to 'New World' by Jade Mortimer for Virgin Shorts.
Sound Design by ME!
I tried to create a sonic sub-text beyond the visual narrative. I did this by splitting the film into two, suspense and confusion. In the first half I use the ambiguity to my advantage by creating a sort of unusual and mysterious soundscape made entirely from real-world sounds, most of which were recorded on location. For the second half, after the relationship between the two characters has been ascertained I used cartoon and filmic cliches to help create a sense of confusion; the removal of her blindfold sparks a blast of bird-tweets, mimetic of old cartoons used to represent a characters daze-like state; the low rumble representing suspense and confusion.
The sound grows until crescendo, resulting in the death of the captive.
The ambiguity of the piece allowed me to go quite far without there being too much hint dropping; after all I wanted the sound to act as a second fiddle, as it were, to the lush colours and play of the film.
It was exhibited by the Martha Collective in a Pop-Up Gallery in Hackney, East London.
http://www.virginmediashorts.co.uk/films/entry/345829/new-world
Sound Design by ME!
I tried to create a sonic sub-text beyond the visual narrative. I did this by splitting the film into two, suspense and confusion. In the first half I use the ambiguity to my advantage by creating a sort of unusual and mysterious soundscape made entirely from real-world sounds, most of which were recorded on location. For the second half, after the relationship between the two characters has been ascertained I used cartoon and filmic cliches to help create a sense of confusion; the removal of her blindfold sparks a blast of bird-tweets, mimetic of old cartoons used to represent a characters daze-like state; the low rumble representing suspense and confusion.
The sound grows until crescendo, resulting in the death of the captive.
The ambiguity of the piece allowed me to go quite far without there being too much hint dropping; after all I wanted the sound to act as a second fiddle, as it were, to the lush colours and play of the film.
It was exhibited by the Martha Collective in a Pop-Up Gallery in Hackney, East London.
http://www.virginmediashorts.co.uk/films/entry/345829/new-world
Saturday, 10 July 2010
7 chords, 1 voice
the sun rose up to find the moon in its place.
its face obscured by the wheat-patch.
circles, whisk and flat, and then it snowed.
cloud cover heavy and thick.
the sun rose to find the rain had been.
it had washed everything away.
my plans of a simple life, thwarted.
and it was darker than it had been in a long time.
Saturday, 15 May 2010
A Crest Worn Upon A Chest
we leave a number in lieu of another.
can a different numerical arrangement really bring something it's predecessor couldn't?
are we expected to believe in a new light when the one prior was still burning brightly?
i had gold in my hands, i spoke with wonder.
un-verbly it's open mouth leaves nothing of worth...
i laughed the day they told me that history would become relevant in my lifely routine.
i laughed the day they told me that.
exacting the hum-drum, i am left with no beat no drum.
the startings.
the middles.
the ends.
i laughed the day they told me that history would become relevant in my lifely routine.
i laughed the day they told me that.
exacting the hum-drum, i am left with no beat no drum.
the startings.
the middles.
the ends.
Fr Fr Fr
I have forgotten about language, the playfulness of it's nature.
I elongate it's vowels for my own communication. They protrude like spikey fruit upon branch of wilted tree.
To ears, other than my own, it sounds like music.
I think it's time I allowed myself to open up and to stop with the green grass philosophy which dogs my brain, like a constant, broken motorway. It's destination unrevealed until the finality of my arrival.
Open stretches of water alert fear in me, there is something beautiful but, deathly about them.
I often associate this spectre with the end of life, as if i have somehow experienced it before.
perhaps...in a previous existence, if i believed in things like that.
I elongate it's vowels for my own communication. They protrude like spikey fruit upon branch of wilted tree.
To ears, other than my own, it sounds like music.
I think it's time I allowed myself to open up and to stop with the green grass philosophy which dogs my brain, like a constant, broken motorway. It's destination unrevealed until the finality of my arrival.
Open stretches of water alert fear in me, there is something beautiful but, deathly about them.
I often associate this spectre with the end of life, as if i have somehow experienced it before.
perhaps...in a previous existence, if i believed in things like that.
Red Young
Hamilton Fensby, my local gardener, handles his ware at a pace more pleasurely than leisurely.
Fawn, he repeats and peat he emits.
No more utopia blue, his gaze.
'What do you do when your designs are flawed?'
'I just let 'em talk of petering out'
...
'When the fields are gone will the cows take out mortgages?
Will the sheep get full-time jobs?
I guess we won't have to worry about closing the gates anymore.
Why?
Well, they'll be neatly replaced by a housing estate.
He caught us in his castle, hidden under-chair, we shiver, quiver and stare.
'FE-FI-FO-FUM...I smell the blood of an Englishman'
'What do you do when your designs are flawed?'
'I just let 'em talk of petering out'
...
'When the fields are gone will the cows take out mortgages?
Will the sheep get full-time jobs?
I guess we won't have to worry about closing the gates anymore.
Why?
Well, they'll be neatly replaced by a housing estate.
He caught us in his castle, hidden under-chair, we shiver, quiver and stare.
'FE-FI-FO-FUM...I smell the blood of an Englishman'
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