#benstamper

This mesmerized and moved me deeply this morning. Thank you, Ben Stamper. Thank you.

Artist Statement: For many of us, abstraction as an overall approach to cinema is a problematic affair, and can sometimes leave us as audience members in a state of alienation from those who seem to be tracking right along with the program. When this happens, a profound sense of isolation and self-doubt is the only take-home of an honest attempt to engage with the avant-garde in film. But there are types of abstraction that can have quite the opposite effect – to connect us with the world, to orient us the right way round and at its best, to heal our vision. When such constructive abstraction is achieved all things become new, especially things that remain rooted in normality. Meaningful discovery is possible when the ordinary everyday scene shocks us into dismay or euphoria. It can be a means towards reality, where all things shimmer in their newness.

There is a story that tells of a man named Jesus who went about giving a blind man his sight. To do this, Jesus spit on the man’s eyes and laid his hands on them. The blind man then exclaimed “I see men; for I behold them as trees walking.” It can’t be assumed here that the man saw imperfectly. The contrary might just as well have been the case: he saw too clearly all of the forms and shapes that comprise a human figure. Pure sight without interpretation is the double-edged sword of seeing something as it truly appears in a state of total disorientation. Free of association and experiential definition, the “half-seeing person” is the essence and aim of constructive abstraction. It is in this state can we perceive the number of fingers God is holding up to us at any given time. Author R.H. Blyth famously described the Japanese discipline of haiku as “ an open door that looks shut.” In other words, the experience of haiku is to inhabit one’s natural space in real time, and then to concentrate that moment into a fertile seed that can be planted in the consciousness of the reader. Haiku as a poetic form has long been regarded in the West as “light verse” or “no verse.” (And with good reason; since the 1950’s there has been a bumper crop of poorly written haiku in english). But the essence of haiku is simplicity and suggestion of the commonplace as a means of framing the universe in relationship to human nature and vice-versa.

It is written that Jesus placed his hands on the man’s eyes a second time, “and he saw everything clearly.” This describes the properly functioning mechanical vision that many of us are blessed to have. It is the operational sight that we take to lens crafters and adjust with corrective lenses. This second vision allows us to connect what we know with what we see. This film considers the idea that both sights are necessary for the responsibilities of regular life; for the caring of the poor and dying, for the pursuit of beauty.

What you are about to participate in is a series of visual and auditory meditations in the spirit of haiku poetry, referring to the ancient form’s brevity and unadorned train of thought. These video-haikus are the result of a six-week artist residency that focused on the theme “fully human.” This is not a film with a common story-arc or 3-point structure. Rather, it is meant to be primarily a sensory experience that considers the subconscious an equal partner in discerning the work. There is one 3 to 4 minute haiku composed for every borough of New York. You are encouraged to not get overly concerned about locating each scene. There will be plenty of time for that later. For the moment, let us an attempt to edge closer to the barred door of the everyday, and open it together.