Things That Want To Be Held...That I Want To Hold
Durational Performance
2018

In Metaphors on Vision, filmmaker Stan Brakhage inquires, “How many colors are there in a field of grass to the crawling baby unaware of “green”? How many rainbows can light create for the untutored eye?” Brakhage's “untutored eye” theory stimulates a relevant conversation surrounding the nature of image and sight. Based on this concept, it is possible to suggest that human vision has diminished due to the acquisition of language.

In 1971, filmmaker Hollis Frampton completed a work titled (nostalgia). The film displays a series of still photographs that are accentuated by mismatched narration. As each shot unfolds, the physical print begins to burn and, eventually, deteriorates into a heap of ash. The use of asynchronization ignites a polemical discourse between visual image and spoken word. Ultimately, (nostalgia) challenges the viewer to analyze the structural dissonance between what is seen and what is heard.

Looking back on my childhood, the ability to reproduce images began on my 8th birthday. On that day, I was gifted a Polaroid camera. The camera proved to be a momentous resource. From that point forward, I had a tool that would enable the preservation of my visual perception. A small collection of Polaroids would serve as an amplification of childhood narrative and memory.



In contrast, my son, Atticus, had expanded access to photographic technology. Soon after his first birthday, he developed a curiosity for image reproduction. His linguistic skills had not yet developed; however, he had a noticeable awareness for capturing photos and videos. Over the course of several months, he composed a large collection of still and motion images. Upon reviewing the content, Stan Brakhage’s notion of an “untutored eye” began to emerge. Within these photographs, it became evident that Atticus had not yet conformed to accepted laws of perspective or logic. In short, he was immersed in an adventure of pre-language perception.

(green before “green”) documents these contrasting stages of optical perception. Within Atticus' collection of stills and video, it is possible to observe an uninhibited exploration of movement and freedom. In comparison, my meager collection of Polaroids displays a visual awareness encapsulated within the margins of the frame. The photographs are interpreted via the limitations of storytelling and spoken language. (green before “green”) contemplates the complex intersections between family, parent, and child. Furthermore, the film attempts to authenticate the contrast between structured and unstructured points of view. Namely, does visual perception change through the acquisition of language?