Meshes of the Afternoon, Theme Song, Secret Daughter, Semiotics of the Kitchen

Meshes of the Afternoon:
Out of the handful of films/videos that sneak their way into every production class, every semester, Maya Deren's "Meshes of the Afternoon" is consistently moving and always relevant. If I was forced to choose three films that I wish I'd made, this film would definitely make the cut. The camera-work blows me away and after numerous viewings, I still can't explain how certain movements were pulled-off. I'm beginning to think that the secret lies in a choreography between Deren and the camera operator; both of them dancing through the house to the theme of something dizzying which, after a masterly edit, results in not only a disorientation within the space, but also a new orientation within the space. The film is experienced like a fun-house that defies what can be built; it is also like a dream that I'm sure I had years ago. In "Meshes of the Afternoon" Maya Deren touches upon something very special and ineffable about consciousness, perception and space as they interact with each other, and the fact that she accomplishes this through moving-image is a testament to the medium's power.

Theme Song:
Vito Acconci's "Theme Song" is difficult for me to think about. During class discussions, there's always a general agreement that the film is awkward, tedious, unsettling, and perhaps a bit pointless. Each time, I struggle to come up with the answer as to why this film continues to be taught in colleges; yet I remain convinced that there is a good answer. I understand that "Theme Song" has historical significance as a meditation on the tension between "I and you" or "artist and viewer", but after all is said and done and we've finished marveling at the medium of video, none of that stuff really matters to me.
Now, at the end of the semester, I feel that I've reached an understanding about "Theme Song". I think this understanding lies in the fact that it is awkward, tedious, unsettling, and pointless. It's all those things and yet we still watch it - some even worship it. "Theme Song" has the potential to teach beginning film/video students very important things about our own work and what's possible for us as artists. "Theme Song" can teach us not to take ourselves or our work too seriously. We can sit in our rooms giving monologues to the camera and that's OK. We can put together a crew of 20 and direct a 5 day production and that's OK, too. It's so easy to never be exposed to work like this, and many of us begin our studies in media production with both unrealistic and rigid understandings of the standards of expression and success. "Theme Song" doesn't merely represent an innovative work in the medium of video, but it also helps us to expand our range of what counts as expression, and what is honored as art.

Secret Daughter:
"Secret Daughter" is by all accounts, your standard documentary. It is, perhaps, longer than the story calls for, thus becoming repetitive, but the importance lies in the story and in the fact that the medium of video allowed June Cross to set out and make this movie (initially) on her own. "Secret Daughter" fits excellently into our class's focus on "unheard voices, heard" in a number of ways. First, as I already mentioned, is the fact that Cross was able to use video as a means of investigating a part of her life, and a part of American history that had been kept from her due to racism, culture, politics, shame and death. I think what I found most meaningful was the opportunity that June gave to her mother to finally speak candidly about her past, about her color-blind childhood, about her stepfather's racist influence, about her romance with a black man, and about the pressure that white society puts on other whites. It is remarkable how genuinely she speaks with her daughter about her respect and admiration for the black community and yet, she has no trouble making excuses for June's existence, denying their connection as if a mother is even allowed that option.
Overall, I felt that "Secret Daughter" was pretty watchable and courageously made.

Semiotics of the Kitchen:
Martha Rosler's "Semiotics of the Kitchen" is a great example of how video was originally put into use as a consumer product & creative tool. I find Rosler's piece especially interesting within the context of early public-access TV and the artists that sought to utilize that opportunity. Semiotics of the Kitchen is not anti-TV or above TV in any way; the audience must be aware of Julia Childs or cooking shows in general in order to understand the depth of Rosler's commentary. The image of Rosler in her kitchen feels more like a response, rather than an imitation of Childs. "Semiotics" is partly a response from the passive-aggressive and repressed robotic housewife that Childs has trained. Rosler's video sets the stage for how millions of people have come to use cheap audio/video technology to imitate the behavior of media personalities. I am reminded of YouTube videos made by people of all ages, sitting in their rooms and hosting televison-like shows with no apparent awareness of the way they imitate familiar behaviors and attitudes. One video includes a girl about 8 years old hosting a TRL-like show. Her voice, movements and ways of relating to the camera so naturally evoke the classic television personality that only her unintelligible dialogue reveals the gap in her transformation. There are plenty of videos like this, each performer less conscious of the models that have hijacked their personality. Fortunately, the message of "Semiotics" can also be found on YouTube as shown by videos of people who very knowingly imitate, for the purpose of commentary, the video-blog character. Similar examples include imitations of home-videos which, along with fake video-blogs, seem to assert that even our most casual uses of the video camera turn us into performers, going through the motions while struggling to keep our real-selves at bay.