Hudson

Stills from The River Holds the Memory of Light by Anna P.

With it being January once again, it is time for me to continue with my Hudson river video project. In January of 2008, I began documenting the Hudson river in dozens of short takes that captured the first few seconds when the camera was pulled under. These takes were then linked into a circuit, so that the viewer saw land fade away over and over again. I began this series with thoughts of the Hudson River Valley School of Painting and our mutual fascination with light. I decided to update the representation of the river by capturing the light from within the river rather than upon it's surface.

Melt

Opening title screen, Melt, 2009 by Anna Peach

There is nothing like art season to get us all creating again. I often find myself taking the subway home from a fantastic show filled with inspiration. In the last weeks I have moved between many points of inspiration. A trip to the Met, two concerts, a video festival, a Spanish film festival, Roni Horn's exhibit at the Whitney (twice) just to name a few. But few things inspire as much as finding just the right coffee table book cast away into the corners of the neighborhood book sale. One of the great perks of my neighborhood is the high concentration of intellectuals per city block. The used books come from the shelves of the best and the brightest that this city has to offer. So it is no surprise when the neighborhood sale throws you a bone in the form of a perfectly inspirational art book.

The book The Snow Show moved it's way onto my self just days after I had completed spending several long nights trying to make sense of the emotional state of a lot of things including the trapped under the ice footage that I made in Newfoundland in 2007. The footage lies somewhere between pulling a warm blanket over your head while sleeping in on a rainy day, and complete claustrophobic vantage points that leave you gasping for breath. I rather like the physical effect that the vantage point carries, I think it is it's strong suit (while others may disagree.) It was wonderfully perfect to see this bound volume that captures the temporal ice and snow works by such artists as Cai Guo-Qiang, Do-Ho Suh, Kiki Smith and Yoko Ono, all curated under Lance Fung in the Lapland light. The book is a little gem of inspired moments for anyone who needs a reason to celebrate the onset of winter.

It is in these quiet little moments of synchronicity that I feel most at home as an artist. So as I edit myself through this winter while up to my elbows in Mayan cocoa spiced tea, I wish you the clarity to see all of the wonderful things around you. For those of you who have left your creativity behind, I hope this season allows you the courage to push onward through the fog and write, paint, sculpt or film once again.

The Sea Remembered Yesterday NY Screening

The Sea Remembered Yesterday, parts 1&2 By Anna Peach

On Sunday, November 22, from 4-8pm, two sections from my video series will be screened at the Fluid Festival at the Queens Museum

The Sea Remembered Yesterday is a series shot off Waikiki Beach, Hawai'i. In 2008, I decided to film the spot that I remembered from my childhood where I was once caught in a riptide and carried along the coast. I began my investigation by questioning if the sea also had a memory of its own experience. Filmed at the same time each morning and layered with footage from the previous day, this creates a visual record of place in an ever changing sea.

Seeing Through Water

Underwater stills from my summer investigations of fresh water springs. Hazy mosquito filled afternoons...

Sound of the Waves

New images that I am working with this week. The bottom of the waves, Waikiki, Hawaii.

Current

My photograph of entangled seaweed, 11 feet below the surface, 2007 Newfoundland

The Birth of Medusa

Three stills from "The Birth of Medusa," By me in 2007, Newfoundland

After a mini screening last night, I realized that the more out of control my video footage is, the more they are appreciated. Take this one for example, where thousands of jellyfish are slammed through a channel, it was impossible to control anything with the tide being forced through a canyon like space. Timing was everything. I watched this area of the sea for three days before trying to film it. It still was not enough study. The first camera bounced and broke when a wave double backed just a second after the tossed camera left my hands. It was as if the wave just changed its mind. The second back up camera got sucked into an underwater crevice in the process of making this footage, a dangerous rock face climb between surges and frantic tug on the line freed it from the sea cavern, but within an hour it too was broken. One of those cameras became the reworked camera that I am now using to make a piece about dance, so all was not, and never is completely lost. What was gained was this piece of footage. The jellies become my signature diffusion material. Soft and luminous. Beautiful and seemingly fragile, but in the end they survived while I was down 2 cameras. I realized that that which appears fragile is actually the most resilient.

Aquatic

My Waikiki photographs. Working around the idea that the sea has a memory of its own experience.

13 seconds of calm

Tidal pool video clip, Newfoundland, Canada. June, 2007, by Anna P.

Planktonic Seas

"Where there's life, there's hope." -Terence

This week I have been wading through over a hundred DVDs that I made in Newfoundland. I realized that I have yet to really relax and view most of them. So that will be the ongoing project...trying to figure out what exactly I have captured and why. The what is always easier than the why.

Oh Canada...

*photo of me in the much warmer Pacific ocean

I feel a world away as I repack my bags for the sixth? time for short hops between locations. I am heading back to isolation and introspection after a short but memorable look at town. Funny thing is that I feel a world away from the summer buzz of town life. People prowling about til four or five are then followed by men spraying the streets down to remove their residue. The town cleans up nicely with many hosers and sweepers happily picking up the remains of the night. It doesnt help any that the messages I receive from home are filled with much the same partying. I cannot even reach anyone since there is a party every night I ring up. I am left with my rather innocent whale and seabird footage and little inspiration to take part in the chaos.

I miss the ocean and the sound of the birds. Entire days filled with nature observations, cooking and art. The town offers distractions, too many it seems, for everyone is running about and I am not sure where they are going. I realized that I enjoyed the two months in the cove, even though the inability to make a phone call, buy groceries, or even have a cup of coffee in a cafe took some getting used to. It isnt so unlike what most of the people north of here have to do for the winter.

I think we are spoiled rotten. It changes your perspective on things when you have to think ahead and buy groceries for the month...or the winter. I have watched artists panic after viewing the options at the 'mom and pop' shop. The die young crowd from Toronto is no exception.

I will be hiding out in yet another cabin, though not as close to the sea. The sea is still visible and my main source of inspiration. After an amazing amount of video, I will be returning to the basics, working with fine silk thread and fish bones. I have high hopes of continuing my writing that I have been avoiding. The camoflage piece will make another surge ahead...
*note to self... work on it please*

Fire and Ice

(still from video by Anna Peach, 2007)

I am trying to get all things tied up in the final weeks of my residency. Just wanted to post an image from the pack ice that was pushed up into the splash pools a while back. I found the quality of light so beautiful. The ice bergs pushed in for another appearance. Reminded me that I have been too busy working outdoors and not posting any of the images.

I am writing more, thanks in part due to the encouragement that has come my way. My posts are getting short and sweet, but know that I am simply woring away at the edge of the sea. My worksites are now changing due to nesting needs. I have to smile as I write the words, but it is true. Considering the seabirds are balancing on tiny scraps of horizontal rock...they are not asking all that much, so I think I can at least back off and give them their privacy.

The Lobster men are out in the calmest of seas and the terns dance like butterflies.