Marvelous Mélies

Magic as a Means for Motion

The idea that magic could be an underlying driving force in artistic creation, especially in the domain of the moving image, may seem at first sight a far fetched thought and one that has little foundation. It is, however, a serious bundle of thoughts that have remained in a minute pocket of cellular space, ever since I came across the work of Michel Gondry back in 2006. It was during an editing session of an interview with Gondry that the name Méliès popped up regarding narrative in film. The forerunner of film narrative, Georges Méliès (1861 - 1938), had gained many a title in the history of cinema. It is perhaps his lesser talked about mastery of illusion however that leads us to a fascinating facet of the French innovator and one that links itself both to Gondry and a whole generation of film makers.

Creation of the moving image relies heavily on the capacity to manipulate images with editing, compositing and the use of special effects. Filming techniques that all have their origin in the work of Georges Méliès. Aside the technical implementation of such effects I wonder on the deeper level of creation and ask, is there a little magician in all of us then ? One who drives our desire to make images appear, disappear, animate or transform, helping us transcend reality and evoke the more magical realms of our imaginations ?

In the opening chapter of Elizabeth’s Ezra’ study on George Méliès, she describes the first (paying) public demonstration of the Lumière brothers cinématographe in Paris 23 December 1895. She particularly expresses the sheer awe, amazement and even fear amongst the public as they watched an ordinary Parisian street scene ‘come to life’ before their very eyes. The effect was magical, an illusion of the highest form, due in part to its ‘realism’ and in part to the public’s ignorance of the technology. It was however that very magical side that inspired the beginnings of a certain young man to take Lumière’s invention beyond simple scientific demonstration; one that gave us some of the first examples of the moving image as a means to tell stories based on our wildest imaginations. That particular event marked the beginning of Meliès’ career in cinematic storytelling. It was however not the beginning of his career as such.

Magic was a fundamental link to Méliès’ life and a strong link with how he would develop a narrative use of the Lumière’s cinematographe throughout his film making career. He had been drawn to the theatre at an early age, and more specifically to the art of conjuring. He had had the opportunity to attend shows by the great English illusionist John Nevil Maskelyne during a sojourn in London in 1884 and on his return to Paris later acquired the famous French illusionist Robert Houdin’s theatre which became his place of work as director and performing magician. After acquiring his first camera in 1896, he began filming his illusions and projecting his first films at the theatre. It was however a sudden turn of fate that would turn his little box of film into an immense box of tricks. A turn that would help him take illusion a step further.

There is a wonderful anecdote about Méliès and his ‘stumbling’ upon his first camera effect. Outside the majestic Opéra in Paris, Méliès was one day carefully filming a typical street scene when suddenly his camera jammed for several minutes. He managed to get the film to work again and resumed filming. On viewing later, he realised that other subjects turned up suddenly on the screen at the time the film had jammed. This of course was due to the time lapse between the end and restarting of filming and which visually created a stunning effect of disappearance and sudden appearance of horse carriages and people. This little accident became known as ‘substitution splicing’ and was the start in a number of visual effects that Méliès was to develop: Superposition, matte, transparency and indeed editing. These techniques can be seen in a large number of his films: Un Homme de Têtes (1898), Affiches en Goguettes (1905) and Voyage dans la Lune (1902). Some of which had also taken direct inspiration from stage magic classics: Les Cartes Vivantes (1904).

These are today common video and image compositing techniques, the complexity of which, compared to Méliès’ time, have lost their sense in today’s push button society yet I believe have not lost their importance as a means for image manipulation, movement and ultimately storytelling. We are perhaps no longer dupe to illusion yet strangely this does not take anything away from our emotional involvement and indeed illusion often solicits our intellect to question the more bedazzling of effects in todays ‘eye candy culture.’ And that underlines the fact that the spectacle of illusion still does have power amid the spectator as it does essentially amid the creator. The technology of film is in fair share an extension of this desire, a desire to perform tricks and tricks that become part of the bigger story.

To return to the work of Michel Gondry, it can be noted that he uses a number of ‘artisan,’ home made techniques in his film. Everything from stop motion animation to make shift stage sets and mechanical contraptions, that strive not for realism but rather have more to do with the sense of the stage illusionist who wants to awaken the freer side of our imaginations, beyond the shackles of our practical realities. His mention of Méliès was perhaps more than just a historical wink at cinematic narration, it was also an acknowledgment of his own desire to perform magic on screen. And who has never wanted to perform a magic trick, whether it be to entertain or to understand the workings of the art of illusion.

There is currently a major exhibition on Georges Méliès at the Cinémathèque Française in Paris, along with the publication of two special edition box set dvds and a 350 page illustrated book. With an important presentation of newly acquired artifacts, this is the best exhibit there has been on an undeniably crucial figure of not only cinematic history but of creation of the moving image at large.

>>> Méliès at La Cinémathèque française

>>> Georges Méliès. The Birth of the Auteur. Manchester University Press 2000. Ezra, Elisabeth

 

La Pub s’anime ! - Animated Ads

©Pyramyd 2007

Les Arts Décoratifs is a wonderful museum based in one of the extensions of the Louvre in Paris. The setting is grand, the perfect place to stroll through a century of animation history. ‘La Pub s’anime’ is the exhibition. A rare collection of French films, artefact, drawings, cells, model sheets and information brought under the perspective of animation in the commercial World.

© Pyramyd 2007

The exhibition begins with a brief introduction to the beginnings of French animation. Brief, it may be but rich all the same - Emile Reynaud’s ‘Autour d’une Cabine‘ plus Emile Cohl’s ‘Fantasmagorie‘ exhibiting a selection of early animation paraphernalia which sets the scene, in terms of animation as a new technique, for the abundant work that follows. Some of the better known names, Paul Grimault, André Sarrut or Alexandre Alexeieff are of course put in new light with a selection of their lesser known work for early 40’s & 50’s commercial work. Jacques Forgeot, Les Cinéastes Associés, Paul Casalini and the Bettiol brothers are all given full showing to lead us up to the early eighties and the beginning of 3D and the nineties with the likes of Pierre Coffin and the H5 collective.

>>> Watch a Trailer Here
>>> Les Arts Décoratifs

 

The Origins of French Animation

The Film Library (BiFi) is the main center for documents on movies in France and it has become a personal place of refuge amongst the plethora of historical information at hand. There is no single document, to my knowledge, that attempts to trace the development of motion graphics from its origins. A virgin landscape lies before me, which makes research in the subject problematic yet stimulating. What has become undoubtedly important though in my research, is the fact that motion graphics is directly linked with film and animation history, especially in terms of technique, and this gives plenty of scope for sifting out key people and perspectives that may have played a part in the development of the discipline.
This month, the Film Library is presenting a retrospective on French animation, from its origins up to 1940. There will be screenings of some of the first ever animations with Emile Reynaud, finishing off with Paul Grimault’s essential work in the genre. I highly recommend to anyone interested in animation history, and who may find themselves in Paris this month, to take hold of this rare opportunity.

>>> More Info Here (in French).

 

Ladislaw Starewicz (1982-1965)

Still from The Camera Man’s Revenge. Ladislaw Starewicz 1912

>>>The Cameraman’s Revenge 1912
>>>The Insect’s Christmas 1913

 

Colour is the Keyboard

An Essay on Music and Motion in Three Parts.
PART 1.

Little discussion echoes the historical links of sound to the visual or its importance as a valid part of the creative process in moving image. Within the motion arena, sound is composed and synchronised in tight relation to the slickness of the moving image, they are designed in perfect symbiosis for maximum expression. How then have two different art forms come together with such precision in execution?

Outside of cinema and traditional film, which I will refer to at moments but are not my main perspective, the relationship between the sonic and the visual has a rich and profound history that developed before the transition to the film and video medium. One only need to look at the titles of many of the early 20th Century art works to realise this : Paul Klee’s ‘Polyphony’ and ‘Fugue in Red’, Kandinsky’s ‘Improvisations’ and ‘Compositions’, Braque’s ‘Hommage to Bach’ or Mondrian’s series of ‘Compositions’. As sound developed with the film medium, it became an integral part of the production process feeding innovations on both sides of the artistic coin. Musicians Scott Bradley and Carl Stalling for example, innovated their orchestral works closely in line with many of the earlier cartoon productions. Silly Symphonies, Merry Melodies, Loony Tunes all had hallmark sonic stings that underlined the visual gags and chase sequences, building up a musical vocabulary that is still in use today. The jazz paintings of Stuart Davies from the 30’s to the 50’s express bold colours and graphic rhythm. The digital mandalas of John Whitney in the 50’s to 70’s, the title sequences of Maurice Binder and Saul Bass, the graphic scores of John Cage and the present day installations of Ryoji Ikeda or Semiconductor. The examples are indeed abundant.

Both sound and image have fed into and grown from each other to push forward creative expression and development. It is however, music’s inherent nature that sparked the greatest influence on the early works and theories, that have informed as well as shaped many of today’s practices in moving image. Sound evokes memories, emotions, and adds depth and dynamics which the visual does not necessarily have the capacity to do, or at least not with the same ease and efficiency. It is within the abstract nature of sound that we can trace its effect and indeed its fundamental link with the development of the visual arts at the beginning of the 20th century. Music was the driving force behind most European artists at the fore of the visual and mostly pictorial art scene in the early 1900s. Not only was it an inspirational form for the beginnings of abstract art, it equally imposed its immaterial and temporal weight on Cubism, Futurism, De Stijl, Bauhaus and later on the Fluxus movement.

Wassily Kandinsky. Impression III (Concert). 1911.

The analogy of musical composition in line with pictorial theory and practice has been well documented. One of the most quoted artists in this area is Wassily Kandinsky who had devoted practically all his life to ‘painting’ music. In January 1911, Kandinsky was present at one of Schönberg’s orchestral works. The musical experience had been so intense in terms of visual thoughts that it inspired him to painting ‘Impression III’. The event not only sparked a close friendship between the two artists, it also helped Kandinsky forge his ideas which were later to take shape in his first published work, ‘Concerning The Spiritual in Art’, 1911.

‘A painter, who finds no satisfaction in mere representation, however artistic, in his longing to express his inner life, cannot but envy the ease with which music, the most non-material of the arts today, achieves this end. He naturally seeks to apply the methods of music to his own art. And from this results that modern desire for rhythm in painting, for mathematical, abstract construction, for repeated notes of colour, for setting colour in motion.’
Kandinsky, Wassily. Concerning the Spiritual in Art. Project Gutenberg Ebook. [Translated by Michael T.H. Sadler]

Within this important reference work, Kandinsky develops his theory on colour. Closely in touch with the spiritual side of creation, he uses what he calls, ‘in the psychic sphere…the theory of association’. An association of the musical to the visual, deliberately drawing from musical vocabulary in order to discuss and argument his line of thought : Composition, melody, symphonic therein stand up to form and colour. Deep blues become bass sounds and yellows become softly blown flutes creating an orchestration of the canvass which ultimately sounds out with impressive viceral emotion. This initial theory of course fed his later work and teachings during his time at the Bauhaus. Further connection to music can be found in his theoretical work, ‘Point, and Line to Surface’, 1926. In which he describes art’s essential graphic elements, such as the point drawn on a surface, as single entities with their own inherent resonance and property for expression. Much as a pianist may consider the point on a musical score and play a note. This note, depending upon its position and relation to others would build up a bigger picture of a melody, harmony or rhythm, ultimately creating the composition. The analogy is strong and beautifully apt.

Fugue in Rot. Paul Klee. 1921. Zentrum Paul Klee, Bern

One of Kandinsky’s close associates at the Bauhaus was the artist and teacher of painting and elementary design theory, Paul Klee. An accomplished violinist, Klee was a keen player of Bach. The art of the fugue, for which Bach had ultimately brought to maturity, became the inspirational structure for many of the visual artists of the early 20th century and Klee was indeed an avid practitioner with some of his earlier works taking direct inspiration from this complex musical form – ‘Fugue in Red’, 1921 and ‘In the Style of Bach’, 1919. Whereas Kandinsky drew comparison between colour and sound, Klee developed more a relation between structure and composition of the image through musical metaphor. If we take ‘Fugue in Red’ for example, the repeated motif and its visual dimension through use of shade, clearly express the idea of polyphony and resonance. Each motif alluding to instruments of a musical orchestration.

Due to the important theoretical developments and teachings at the Bauhaus and essentially its move to America with Maholy Nagy, the purely graphical elements in visual creation and their relation to sound, began to show their signs in other disciplines such as graphic art. Here the musical aspect became even more apparent by the very nature of the work with posters and title sequences for the cinema, music album covers and concert posters. However, in terms of motion, it was within the realms of the film medium that sound and image would find their perfect marriage. The Futurists Bruno Corra and Arnaldo Ginna, along with the Parisian based Finish artist, Léopold Survage were amongst the first to take up the film medium as a means to experiment with these foundations of sound, colour and form. ‘Visual Music’ became then an obsession for a generation of experimental filmmakers to come. Kandinsky, as well as many more from the early 20th century had paved the way forward for what was to become truly a form of ‘painting’ music. The film stock had become the new canvas upon which to paint, scratch, draw and manipulate graphic elements and to create movement in synchrony with sound. Artists had finally found the time line upon which sound and image could co-exist. So what did the new medium promise?

>>> PART TWO Here.

 

An Online Collection of Early Abstract Films

Walter Ruttmann - Lichtspiel Opus 1. 1921-25

I thought I would add this in line with the last post on Oskar Fischinger - Motion Paintings. This particular early work is said to have been Fischinger’s first influence in the genre, motivating him to create his ‘Studies’ series in non-objective film.

I’ve started a few playlists in You Tube for further works in this era  :

Abstract Films 1

Abstract Films 2
I had to delete the above playlists as many of the pieces I started to collect have been taken off the Internet for copyright issues.