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#and is exactly the type of existentialist stuff you know i love
rusted-sun · 1 month
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just watched this video essay about art while i was making art and now im having so many feelings 10/10 i highly recommend it
or alternatively: Art For No One by Jacob Geller
#its almost an hour long#and is exactly the type of existentialist stuff you know i love#i wonder about what will happen to my art after i die a lot. and. hm.#the art i make is art just for me. but when i die. it will be for no one. because then i will be no one.#so i want as egotistical as i am. id probably want it destroyed.#but knowing art historians it will be very infuriating. but who needs a diary of someone dead. who needs a fragment of a man who once was#when none of it will be interpreted correctly#id rather it be destroyed. burnt. returned back to the ashes of the stars the materials i used once were#theres so many things ive done that ive never shown or told anyone. so by extension the idea of me eventually wanting to record it all#and show it online is very paradoxical i guess#i guess its just a phrase from a painting teacher i once had that stuck to me deeply#a friend asked her what she likes to paint. and she replied with#“i dont paint in my free time anymore. who needs a bunch of old paintings?”#and. hm. i suppose i relate to that. noone needs my stupid art and even less people care about it like i do#but the flesh is flawed and i am still creating. i am observing what little i see of the world and try to make sense of it via art#my sketchbooks are physical copies of the thoughts occurring in my mind and my physical itch and need to create and learn and understand#and to cry and to feel and to live#i live to make art and in return the art i make; makes me keep living#i think its getting too late and i need to go to bed#chess shh
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acaseofthewiggins · 5 years
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Comet, Star, Constellations, Protostar?
Comet: What are you currently frustrated about? 
Well, several things, but creative stuff has been most on my mind lately. I mean, time management and juggling my various projects/interests has always been a struggle for me. But it’s actually been getting a little better lately. I cleared off my desk and have been actually using it for writing and drawing, which has had more of an effect on my motivation than I thought it would. Right now I guess I’m just most frustrated that between my original story that I’m working hard at trying to finish and Inktober I haven’t had time for fanfic but I’ve got some fanfic projects I’d really like to finish and share!
Star: What song/s do you feel describes you?
I don’t know if I’ve ever listened to a particular song and thought that it described me. But one song I’ve related to in the past year has been Sisyphus by Andrew Bird.
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I mean, for one thing, I love a mythology reference. But I guess it’s also that existentialist idea of doing your thing even in the face of a cruel and uncaring world? I love the line “I’d rather fail like a mortal than fail like a god.” Which, I guess, to me has meant that it’s better to fail at a task or goal while being yourself and doing what you love than than try to attain some impossible standard of perfection and will only make you miserable and fail anyway.
And OK, here’s a very obscure one, especially outside of France, but also Plus Tard by Bigflo et Oli.
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“Plus tard” means “later“ and the song is about how when we’re kinds people always tell us we’ll understand things later and we get the idea that as adults we’ll know everything. The song lists some of the types of magical thinking that the artists experienced as kids: thinking that a kiss from their mom could treat pain, imagining that the moon follows them in the car, etc. But it then lists some of the kinds of magical thinking that they experience as adults like, “oh if I wait someone else will do the dishes” and “even if I’m getting older, my parents are immortal.” The refrain of the song is “it’s later now, and I don’t understand.” And yep. There are so many things I thought I’d have magically figured out by now that I haven’t.
Constellation: If you could have one talent what would it be? (can be magical or not)
I thought I had this one until the magic bit was thrown in there. Like, sure if someone offered me magic powers I’d want magic powers.
But at the moment I really think that the talent would be to be the ability to draw well enough and consistently enough that I could take whatever crazy ideas I’ve got in my head and actually have the first idea about how to convey them on the page and not just copy from photographs and artworks.
That or being really good at plotting and finishing long-form writing pieces. And I mean, I’m working my way towards at least being better at both of these things.
Protostar: Give a random fact about yourself.
This spring, while in France, I took a little informal singing class taught by a super awesome local singer. The experience inspired me to write a song, which I guess means I’ve written exactly one song from start to finish. It’s called “Lonely Are the Strange” and it’s about my feelings of isolating in middle school. My favorite line from the song: And courage only comes to some with practice. In the little concert that we did at the end of the class I performed this and two prepared songs to a room full of French people. I was so nervous I had to pee about 6 times before and in between songs but I was really proud of myself for doing it.
Thanks @left-handed-moth for the ask!
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keanuital · 6 years
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John Wick solidified Keanu Reeves as one of the greatest action stars of all time
With A History Of Violence, Tom Breihan picks the most important action movie of every year, starting with the genre’s birth and moving right up to whatever Vin Diesel’s doing this very minute.
John Wick (2014)
In the entire history of American action cinema, there are very, very few movies that take their fight scenes as seriously as John Wick does. Some of the action set pieces in John Wick—the home invasion, the one-man nightclub siege—are straight-up masterpieces, and the movie never lingers long between these exquisitely crafted depictions of mayhem. But my favorite scene in the movie isn’t a fight. It’s the part where Viggo, the movie’s lead Russian gangster, has to tell his son just how badly he’d fucked up. Viggo’s boy, Iosef, has broken into the home of a “fucking nobody.” He’s killed the man’s dog, stolen his car, and left him unconscious. Viggo, played by the late Swedish actor Michael Nyqvist, doesn’t mind any of this. He just minds that Iosef did all this to the wrong guy.
Carefully and patiently, Viggo tells Iosef that he and his associates used to call John Wick, that nobody, baba yaga—the bogeyman. And then he continues, “John wasn’t exactly the bogeyman.” Dramatic pause. “He was the one you send to kill the fucking bogeyman.” A moment later, as that sinks in: “I once saw him kill three men in a bar with a pencil. A fucking. Pencil.”
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That scene comes before any of the movie’s fights, and it tells us a whole lot of things we need to know. It tells us that Wick is an absolute avenging angel of death, of course, and it gives us context for the life that he left behind when he fell in love and got married. But that scene also tells us what kind of movie we’re watching. It’s a movie that takes place in its own universe, that leaves behind any notion of realism or naturalism. It tells us that we are watching myths and archetypes, that the movie is going to be a sort of tone-poem homage to history’s great bleak, existentialist action movies. It tells us that directors Chad Stahelski and David Leitch know their Melville and their Woo. The first time I watched John Wick, I spent that entire scene cackling with glee. That scene promised a lot, and the movie paid off on it.
I have to imagine that the person who greenlit John Wick thought he’d be getting another Taken clone; 2014 was the era of the Taken clone. A few years earlier, Liam Neeson had revitalized his career by playing a leathery, regretful death-dealer in a cheap, unpretentious B-movie, and other aging movie stars were trying to do the same with theirs. Denzel Washington made The Equalizer. Sean Penn made The Gunman. John Wick, originally titled Scorn, could’ve turned out to be one of those.
Instead, John Wick turned out to be a whole new mold: a sleek, stylish, and deeply silly studio B-movie that takes place in its own fully realized world. And after years of choppy, illegible Hollywood action scenes, it revived the visceral beauty of a well-shot, well-choreographed fight, succeeding in making Keanu Reeves look like an absolutely unstoppable killing machine. These days, people aren’t making their own Takenknockoffs anymore. They’re more likely to make John Wick clones, like Ben Affleck in The Accountant, say, or Charlize Theron in Atomic Blonde. That’s a good thing. The John Wick clones have been way better than the Takenclones.
In some ways, John Wick was a very familiar movie. Over the years, we’ve seen a lot of quiet, soulful, and well-dressed hitmen pulled back into the killing game by tragedy, forced to eliminate their old bosses. We’ve seen a lot of broken loners going on quests of revenge after seeing their families die. We’ve seen badasses so cold that they take out entire armies of anonymous cannon-fodder types. We’ve seen underworld stories in which the police barely even seem to exist. John Wick is, in a lot of ways, a traditional action movie, one that works very much within the rules and structures of the genre.
But in other ways, John Wick is a strange statement of a movie—one that takes all those tropes and makes them as weird and otherworldly as possible. For one thing, when John Wick goes to war with the Russian mob of New York, he’s not avenging any actual people. Instead, he’s avenging the death of a dog, an adorable puppy gifted to him by his dead wife. Iosef insists, over and over, that it was just a dog, as if this is going to help him in any way. It’s a beautiful little subversion of an old revenge-movie trope. People hate seeing dogs die in movies, so we’re spared the usual Death Wish-style scene of rape and murder. Even the dog dies offscreen. Instead, we get to skip straight to the revenge. And the movie knows it’s absurd for Wick to be killing dozens of people to avenge a dog that he’d only had for, what, a day? But it works on a couple of levels. At one point, Wick says that the dog represented all the hope he had left in the world, telling us that that’s what sent him off on that killing spree. So it’s an effective story device. But it’s also a grand cosmic joke. Because after all, it was just a fucking dog.
Taking this simple and unreal pretense as its starting point, the movie builds an entire world. This is a universe full of hitmen. There are so many, in fact, that they have their own hotel, a place where any actual killing is expressly forbidden. That’s one of the rules of this hitman world that everyone understands. Another is that everyone is supposed to pay for stuff in gold coins. Even the police seem to know what’s going on. At one point, a cop comes to Wick’s door and sees a body lying on the floor behind him. His response: “You, uh, working again?” Wick: “No, just sorting some stuff out.” That’s good enough for the cop, who backs right out. John Wick: Chapter Two, the movie’s 2017 sequel, builds on all of this and turns it into something even more gloriously alien. But it’s all there in the first movie—a violent hidden world, right under our noses.
A year before starring in John Wick, Keanu Reeves went to Hong Kong and China to make his directorial debut. Man Of Tai Chi isn’t what you might expect from the moment that an aging movie star steps behind the camera. Instead, it’s a great little underground-fighting movie, one made with a slightly incoherent plot and a great respect for fight choreography. The movie almost makes more sense as a collection of fight scenes than as a traditional narrative. It’s mostly in Chinese, but Reeves himself plays the villain, a glowering evil American billionaire who makes people fight to the death. And he made the whole thing as a vehicle for Tiger Chen, a Chinese martial artist who’d been one of the fight choreographers for The Matrix.
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Man Of Tai Chi was, for me, the moment that Reeves became an all-time elite action star. He’d already had a surprising number of classic action movies on his résumé: Point Break, Speed, the Matrix movies. He’d done many of his own stunts in Speed and trained hard in wire-fu for The Matrix. But I’d always thought of him as an actor who sometimes did action movies, not as a straight-up action star. Man Of Tai Chi revealed Reeves to be something else: someone so in love with the genre that he’d make a labor of love like that. And John Wick is the moment he solidified his spot in the history of the genre. Keanu Reeves is, quite simply, one of the greatest action stars of all time. He might be the single greatest, no qualifiers necessary.
Think about it: Reeves was 50 when John Wick came out, and he still went out of his way to make the movie as hard and physical as possible. He recruited his Matrix stunt doubles Stahelski and Leitch to direct the movie even though they’d never directed a movie before. (Reeves’ devotion to the Matrix stunt team is, to my mind, one of the most endearing things about him.) He threw himself into training, learning styles of martial arts that he’d never attempted. And he pulled off these incredible fight scenes—scenes that mix gunplay with hand-to-hand grappling in believable ways, scenes in which he has to pull off these great stunts without the benefit of quick-cutting. He even did a fair amount of his stunt-driving. And he put in an affecting, grounded performance on top of all of that, bringing this absurdist world to life with the sheer weight of his facial expressions and body language. And he delivers his best badass lines with absolute panache and confidence. (Viggo: “They know you’re coming.” Wick: “Of course. But it won’t matter.”)
There’s a ruthless efficiency to the way Reeves moves in the movie. The way he kills people tells more of a story than the actual story does. He’ll punch someone, then shoot him, then punch him again. Sometimes, he’ll take a bad guy down in a leglock, holding him immobile while he shoots a couple of other bad guys, and then shoot the original bad guy while that guy is lying helpless on the floor. A scene like that one-man nightclub invasion is put together with absolute precision, ratcheting things up gradually until it becomes something insane and surreal. It’s beautifully lit and shot and edited, like Drive or something, but all of that atmosphere serves to highlight the action. There’s a scene near the end where Viggo, on the way to his final showdown with Wick, laughs maniacally. It’s not because he thinks he’s going to win. He knows he’s about to die. He’s just having so much fun watching Wick work. We, the audience, knows how he feels.
John Wick made an impact. It made money and earned critical raves, something that I don’t think anyone expected of it. It spawned a whole universe‚ two movies, with another on the way, and a spin-off TV series called The Continental reportedly in the works. One of its directors went off to make Atomic Blonde, an instant-classic action movie in its own right if only for that incredible single-take apartment-building fight. John Wickspawned imitators. But more to the point, it proved that an American studio B-movie could be truly great, that it could compete with anything coming out of South Korea or Thailand or Indonesia. It proved that we don’t have to settle for bullshit. It raised the stakes. People keep asking if American action movies are back, and I hadn’t really had an answer. But now, yeah, I’m thinking they’re back.
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