Streaming two different films simultaneously on my laptop, which seems only appropriate on such a cold and equinoxical Monday night. The first being Lars Von Trier's "Melancholia," which I've been intrigued with since the trailer came out this May. I'm finding it difficult to get past the prologue when images like THIS are played in underscore to the opening of Tristan and Isolde...
This film, if you culture vultures remember, is the one that got Von Trier in scalding water when he went on that deliciously offensive tangential tirade saying that "he sympathized with Hitler." Keeping that totally warm, fuzzy and humanizing sentiment at bay, I am surprised by how much I am enjoying this. I keep putting on pause as if to brace myself for doing a cannonball into a dunk tank of pirhannas... I have a feeling that is about to get pretty psychologically laborious.
I'm also watching a totally fascinating documentary portrait of the New York Times fashion photographer Bill Cunningham New York, which makes me want walk down 7th avenue in orgami motifs and abandon all sense of boring, upscale fashion principles. Unfortunately, half of my pants are perforated with holes from the barbarous amount of walking that I do in this city. An accessory designer friend of mine, Ken Marcelle, told me yesterday at a BBQ that I had a utilitarian sense of fashion, which threw me off, since I don't want to be associated with that word, like, EVER. Nor do I want to give the impression that I'm somehow ABOVE the pursuit of personal aesthetics, even I tend to save my looks for when I am out performing gigs at night.
On that topic, I've become increasingly motivated to create my own performance pieces, free from the criteria of other collaborations I've been involved with as of late. There is a limit to what I'm willing to reveal about the work that I'm generating now, but this desire is new, exciting and induces within me a sense of danger and ecstasy that I haven't felt in awhile. The only way that it will ever come together is to take a less careful, cerebral approach to what I do... as Chuck Close says: "Inspiration is for amateurs. I just get to work."
That said, as I'm developing the themes and atomic complexion for what these new forms will take, a part of that will be making a record of what I consume - what repulses me - what I am trying to adapt into this new and empirical recognition of what it means to be human.
It's been YEARS I activated this blog. Since the summer of 2007, the world has changed. The internet has changed. My personal constitution has changed. I only have recently overcome the fear of googling myself, thinking that it will bring to light things that I'd rather not know in total neglect of the fact that other people have unadulterated access to it. Last August, when I finally worked up the courage to type my name into a search engine, I noticed that this blog was the first to come up since my personal website was taken down.
Now that TrystanTrazon.com is being renovated, I really hope to use this a companion to the site. The intention here is less to fastidiously control my sense of self-narrative and projection and more to SHARE what I deem interesting... what I am seeing, thinking, remembering, consuming... should you or any inquiring mind care to know. As Nora Ephron said in her interview with Terry Gross, if it takes longer to write than a half an hour, it's not a blog... it's something else.
And on that note of something else, I am clocking in.
Love & Other Reasons Firefighters Become Insomniacs,
T.TRAZON
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