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Vision 2.8: 31 May
Today was the day we presented the assignments. Me and Chris had most of the content ready to go and just started putting it all together in Q-Lab and getting all the timing correct. While we definitely had improvements that could have been made, things like loops could have been made cleaner so the start and end of the clip was less obvious, the piece definitely gave the audience the reaction that we wanted to get. Most people commented that they found watching it revolting and difficult to watch. This was the goal to really portray the sense of drug induced madness.
It was also interesting to note that nearly every group went in a different direction while everyone used the same poem and most people used the first six minutes of the poem everyone’s visual content ended up completely different.
This is a video of me spinning around in the park, for my vision assignment.
Vision 2.7: 30 May
Today we present our concept for our ‘Howl’ design. Chris and I chose to follow the themes of madness and insanity. We went after this idea of a laughing and screaming mouth that would repetitively return.
The next step of the day was to start finding all of the content that we had already worked out we needed. After facing the issue in the past of not being able to find content on the internet Chris and I chose to film what content we could not find. There were three clips that we filmed two close ups of my face, one of me laughing and the other one of me screaming. The other was me spinning around in the park. We had basically collected all of the content by the end of the day and had started to edit most of it, ready to put together tomorrow.

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Vision Artefact 2.6
This is the excerpt from ‘Howl’ that me and Chris chose to use.
“Howl”
By Allen Ginsberg
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,
a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,
suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,.
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,
who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,
who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,
who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,
who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,
who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,
who broke down crying in white gymn asiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,
who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,
Vision 2.6: 29 May
Today we started off by presenting our Brexit monologue content. A lot of people decided to use the vision as a part of the set putting a small screen at the corner of the stage like in the pub that the scene is set. Then playing content, a lot of others chose to use sports to help set the scene. After that the everyone started to split off either playing something directly to do with Brexit, either news reports or footage of rallies, or creating more abstract content that commented or the Brexit itself or the reactions to Brexit.
After this we were assigned a design intensive. The goal was to create a six minute visual poem to go along with the poem ‘Howl’ by Allan Ginsberg. I was partnered with Chris for this assignment. We both decided to try and keep it simple. I read up a bit on Ginsberg and the poem itself to try and get a better understanding of what it was about. From there me and Chris decided to follow the theme of madness and insanity as we created our visual poem. So we began going through the poem working out what roughly what content we wanted and what we would pull from the poem itself to give us ideas. At this point we mainly focussed on creating a concept that we could present to the group tomorrow after which we could work on content itself.
Vision 2.5: 17 May
After last class we were assigned the task to create some visuals to go with a script about Brexit, using the VJ’ing software. Some people had a real idea of the sequence of the visuals that they were using and showing, whereas I came in more with an idea or concept I that I was trying to get across. Again something I have mentioned before is that it is really hard to find the video content that you might want on the internet.
I continued to use Modul8 to create mine and discovered the greatest issue with the demo. It does not save anything. So every time that I had to quit or every time that it crashed (a number of times) I had to pull all of my content back into Modul8. Another issue is that the software and a number of other people experienced the same issue with other bits of software was that video content that we brought into it needed to be a certain codac or the video became jittery and lagged. I suspect that the software will use a particular codac to reduce load times or the processing powered required as the software needs to react to someone who would be VJ’ing live.