Crossing The Channel
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It's all uncharted waters.
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Last night we watched Marwencol. I cried like a baby watching it. In a good way, I think. This movie was all about fear and art. Mark Hogancamp got his shit stacked by a bunch of thugs that didn't like that he was a cross-dresser. He was so badly beaten that he spent forty days in the hospital, nine of them in a coma, and he suffered permanent brain damage.
He lost all memory of his life before the attack.
He started playing with GI Joes and barbie dolls, and created a fictional town for them, Marwencol, which he set in WWII. The main character is Mark, and he interacts with this town full of beatiful, dangerous women, all of whom love and protect him. Nazi soldiers are a constant menace to Mark and the women, and their lives swing back and forth between triumph and tragedy.
Mark built the whole town to scale in his yard and then spent all his time photographing the story. The film follows him through his attack, his creation of Marwencol, his loneliness and sadness and deep, gripping fear, his discovery by the filmmaker, and the opening of his show in New York.
Fucking beautiful, is what.
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Fear.
Art.
Love.
Food.
Sex.
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Engage in each, I suppose.
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PS- This sonofabitch can flat write. It will maim you to read him.
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Namaste.
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posted by tearful dishwasher at 9:39 AM
19 Comments:
That may be my favorite of all your art I've seen.
I'm sort of speechless here.
gulp,
I'm speechless too.
Thanks.
My eyesight's not what it used to be.
I misread a helluva lot of words these days. Which makes for an interesting reading experience.
I also mis-see a helluva lot of things. Take your Crossing the Channel for instance. I was so certain that it was a teeny tiny Buddha sitting on the water's surface, that I didn't question my certainty even as I continued to enlarge the image until the whole screen of my computer was filled with that howling face.
Reminds me of how I mis-saw Wyeth's Christina's World for years. I saw an image of youth and yearning, a girl on a hill looking homeward. It was only after reading about the painting's back story that I finally allowed myself to see her crooked spine, her clawed hand, and the house looming like a gravestone on the hill.
Wyeth painted her facing away from the viewer so we wouldn't see Christina's hag face.
I feel like the rug was pulled out from under me.
I still see a Buddha sitting on the water.
I still see a girl on a hill.
I'm not a fan of baths. I take showers. But if I was a bather, I'd want a rubber Buddha instead of a rubber ducky to keep me company during my soaks.
Brother, I apologize for mis-seeing your vision.
That is definitely my most favorite of all your work -- that photo at the top. Just wow.
Thank you for the privilege --
Ms. Moon-
yeah, i like it, too.
and I can't talk about it either.
Liza-
Speechless is okay.
I'm glad you came by and said you had nothing
to say.
yrs-
tearful
Laurel-
It does look like a buddha. Maybe it is.
Maybe it is.
Isn't it always more interesting to think about what we thought we saw rather than what we actually did see.
I think you know the answer.
Bless you, you fierce warrior.
Elizabeth-
It feels nice to have this reaction to something that to me seems a bit outside my normal work.
thank you.
yrs-
tearful
i'm so, so, so happy you linked to clay. whenever i see that he has written, i'm bursting. you have done when i meant to do.
heck i'll do it anyway.
and thanks, scott. thanks for the everything else. i think i want to watch that movie. soon. i'm almost up for it.
love is hard. love is necessary.
Tearful,
I've heard of this movie. I've wanted to see it, but I have mentally prepare... anyway, thanks for reminding me because I got distracted while I was preparing!
Love the artwork also...at first glance I thought it was Martin Strel and a tiny Buddha! It's a fine piece no matter who they are.
peace,
pf
Scott, suffering from brain and heart overload lately so can't seem to form any words. But i love this. That's you, I think, wanting to help, knowing how to help, but having to wait until the small lost tossed about howling soul will accept help. Torture. But what do i know? Just wanted to let you know, even when I am silent, I'm here. In awe.
Thank you very very much for your kind words, Mr. Tearful, you and Dottie Kee and that lady from the Radish Kingdom have the tendency to keep me going as well as keep me inspired. I am very grateful.
Dottie Kee Bones-
love is hard and necessary, you are right.
and Clay?
He's one of the real men in this world. I just admire the hell out of the guy. His writing is as hard and compact as a stone.
I'm glad to know you, Kay, as always.
yrs-
Scott
PF-
It does kind of look like Strel, and he's in the right setting for it.
Watch the movie. You'll dig it.
yrs-
tearful
Angella-
As always, you come bearing gifts. You can always bring a hopeful note into any piece, no matter how dark it might seem to others.
I know you're here, always. I feel it.
yrs-
Scott
Clay-
I'm a hell of a big fan of yours. I'm real glad to see you here, as always.
And I'm always richer for having read your words and lived, even a little bit, in the world as you created it.
thanks.
Scott
scott is freakin eloquent.
(=
Oh my god. The movie and your image.
Incredible. now I'm going to clay's.
thank you again and again.
(i'm not sure what to make of that sweet cone of pig parts though, oh my- haha)
I left a long post here this morning at 3 AM or so but blogger ate it when I tried to publish. And now I don't have the energy to find it again in my head. It was about Marwencol and how that twisted my soul around and it was about crossing the channel how the man in the inner tube is struggling and crying out for god but god is busy squeeging water out of his eyeballs clearing his goggles and the little man can't see him even though god is huge looming right behind saying goddammit all you have to do is kick your feet. Or whatever 3 AM version I had of that.
xo
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