filmloop/fragments (written for the Miami Art Museum)
A young friend of ours, Whitney Martishius, recently saw an art piece that I created for the Miami Art Museum in 1997 hanging on our wall. She read it and was greatly moved by it, so much so that I offered to send her a copy. (The actual artwork is about 6 feet by 5 feet, printed on museum-quality white board.)
The piece was part of an exhibition in which the Miami Art Museum combined writers and sculptors. I was paired with the Polish sculptor, Magdalena Abakanowicz (whom I never met, although we corresponded), and at first I hadn't a clue what to do, since her work consists largely of groups of large, obscure, partial human torsos, and is greatly influenced by her childhood experience in Poland of the Nazis during World War II.
I ultimately decided to use her own words, from an interview I read with her, which I cut up and rearranged - "sampling" them in the way that a hip hop artist might sample musical or lyrical phrases (I was very influenced by the French hip hop artist, DJ Cam, at the time). I tried to create something between a film script and a poem, and below is the result. Sadly, my father died during the creation of the piece, so I dedicated it to him.
filmloop/fragments
for my father (sculptor sampling)
magdalena abakanowicz/alexander stuart
(blurrred imagesindistinct shadows of arms beatingrepeating)
VOICEBut at timesI would pummel her
(breaking upon a human back)
VOICEI would pummel her with my fists.
(figures movingstrange half-torsos with legs)
VOICEI was born in the country
(a wide open field)
VOICEand spent my childhood there.
(in the center of the field is a wooden doorframe)
VOICEI had no companions of my own age.
(now the half-torsos form an endless paradeon either side of the doorwaylined up waiting to passor having passedthrough)
VOICEEverything was immensely important.All was at one with me.
(a half-torso passes through the doorwaythen anotherand another)
VOICEWhen a baby was born in the villagepeople came to ask my sister to begodmother.
(a half-torso passes through the doorwaythen anotherand another)
VOICEBecause she was lovely.
(etched into each aretributaries of suffering)
VOICEShe enchanted me too, by her delicatesoftness.
(a wide open field)
VOICEBut at times
(indistinct shadows of arms beatingrepeating)
VOICEembittered by my otherness
(breaking upon a human back)
VOICEI would pummel herI would pummel her with my fists.
(the arms ceasesuddenly a handis placed overa mouth)
VOICEThey came at night, in 1943, drunk.
(there is laughterandgreat sorrow)
VOICEThey bashed at the door. Motherrushed to open it.
(the half-torsos are runningfleeing)
VOICEA dumdum bullet tore her right elbow.
(some are burning)
VOICEI shouted Mama!Where is Mama?
(the half-torsosbecome a foresta forest of damaged peopleconstantly movingburning)
VOICEMy father thought he would be safe.
(suddenly a handis placed overa mouth)
VOICEThen he was killed by a man fromthe village called Bolek.
(a strugglefeathers flying)
VOICEI had seen farm animals being killed.I had not thought of it as death, andwith human beings it was the same.
(a headhunters mask)
VOICEWe are all guilty.
(indistinct shadows of arms beatingrepeating)
VOICEWe are all innocent.
(a wide open field)
VOICEWe all tremble before death.
(in the center of the field is a wooden doorframe)
VOICEAnd find strength in ourdeepest suffering.
(a silent, motionless row of half-torsoslined upwaiting to passor having passedthrough)
VOICEI was born in the country and spent mychildhood there.
(a half-torso passes through the doorwaythen anotherand another)
VOICEI had no companions of my own age.
(a half-torso passes through the doorwaythen anotherand another)
VOICEEverything was immensely important.All was at one with me.
(there is laughterandgreat sorrow)
VOICEBut at times
(indistinct shadows of arms beatingrepeating)
VOICEembittered by my otherness
(breaking upon a human back)
VOICEI would pummel herI would pummel her with my fists.
alexander stuart/1997
