Juliana Neufeld - Images

Mark - album cover

This is the soundtrack cover for Gladiator, and has my chosen song 0n.

In this image i see; Empty, stadium, seats, coliseum, yellow, gold, sky, clouds, rough ground, gravel, barriers, brick, arches.

Some meanings from this could be; Quiet, death, scared, important, kings, money, lonely, grave, pits, nightmare.

Lee Video Research

This is a cool video of breakdancing, i will use a small clipping of this in my final film. I will have it playing in sync with the words, as it says drop it will play and the breakdancer drops down low.

A great video of Michael Jackson imitating James Brown on stage. This may be useful for my video but i'll probably just use it for reference and guidance.

Lee Video Research

Lee Video Research

This is a Michael Jackson video of him dancing to Smooth Criminal on stage. I may clip parts of the video as there simply great and his dancing is non debatably the best.

Lee Video Research

Another clip of a female dancing. Im feeling not having the face in view, just the body as it will relate to the theme of the song more plus it makes it more current and sexy.

Lee Video Research

Again looking for videos featuring females i found another which could be quite effective to my final.

Lee Video Research

I want short video clips of a girl dancing as my chosen song has the lyrics, " Girl I Bin Waiting All Night To See You Dance Like Me". I thought having a girl dancing at certain points will make it seem like a battle or a competition, which is the purpose for the videos i'm using.

Mark - Poet Research

Charles Simic

Hotel Insomnia

I liked my little hole, Its window facing a brick wall. Next door there was a piano. A few evenings a month a crippled old man came to play "My Blue Heaven." Mostly, though, it was quiet. Each room with its spider in heavy overcoat Catching his fly with a web Of cigarette smoke and revery. So dark, I could not see my face in the shaving mirror. At 5 A.M. the sound of bare feet upstairs. The "Gypsy" fortuneteller, Whose storefront is on the corner, Going to pee after a night of love. Once, too, the sound of a child sobbing. So near it was, I thought For a moment, I was sobbing myself.

Mark - Poet Research

Rita Dove

Adolescence II

Although it is night, I sit in the bathroom, waiting. Sweat prickles behind my knees, the baby-breasts are alert. Venetian blinds slice up the moon; the tiles quiver in pale strips. Then they come, the three seal men with eyes as round As dinner plates and eyelashes like sharpened tines. They bring the scent of licorice. One sits in the washbowl, One on the bathtub edge; one leans against the door. "Can you feel it yet?" they whisper. I don't know what to say, again. They chuckle, Patting their sleek bodies with their hands. "Well, maybe next time." And they rise, Glittering like pools of ink under moonlight, And vanish. I clutch at the ragged holes They leave behind, here at the edge of darkness. Night rests like a

John Ashbery

Poem at the New Year

Once, out on the water in the clear, early nineteenth-century twilight, you asked time to suspend its flight. If wishes could beget more than sobs, that would be my wish for you, my darling, my angel. But other principles prevail in this glum haven, don't they? If that's what it is. Then the wind fell of its own accord. We went out and saw that it had actually happened. The season stood motionless, alert. How still the dropp was on the burr I know not. I come all packaged and serene, yet I keep losing things. I wonder about Australia. Is it anything about Canada? Do pigeons flutter? Is there a strangeness there, to complete the one in me? Or must I relearn my filing system? Can we trust others to indict us who see us only in the evening rush hour, and never stop to think? O, I was so bright about you, my songbird, once. Now, cattails immolated in the frozen swamp are about all I have time for. The days are so polarized. Yet time itself is off center. At least that's how it feels to me. I know it as well as the streets in the map of my imagined industrial city. But it has its own way of slipping past. There was never any fullness that was going to be; you waited in line for things, and the stained light was impenitent. 'Spiky' was one adjective that came to mind, yet for all its raised or lower levels I approach this canal. Its time was right in winter. There was pipe smoke in cafés, and outside the great ashen bird streamed from lettered display windows, and waited a little way off. Another chance. It never became a gesture.

mark - Poet Research

Gary Soto

A Red Palm

You're in this dream of cotton plants. You raise a hoe, swing, and the first weeds Fall with a sigh. You take another step, Chop, and the sigh comes again, Until you yourself are breathing that way With each step, a sigh that will follow you into town. That's hours later. The sun is a red blister Coming up in your palm. Your back is strong, Young, not yet the broken chair In an abandoned school of dry spiders. Dust settles on your forehead, dirt Smiles under each fingernail. You chop, step, and by the end of the first row, You can buy one splendid fish for wife And three sons. Another row, another fish, Until you have enough and move on to milk, Bread, meat. Ten hours and the cupboards creak. You can rest in the back yard under a tree. Your hands twitch on your lap, Not unlike the fish on a pier or the bottom Of a boat. You drink iced tea. The minutes jerk Like flies. It's dusk, now night, And the lights in your home are on. That costs money, yellow light In the kitchen. That's thirty steps, You say to your hands, Now shaped into binoculars. You could raise them to your eyes: You were a fool in school, now look at you. You're a giant among cotton plants. Now you see your oldest boy, also running. Papa, he says, it's time to come in. You pull him into your lap And ask, What's forty times nine? He knows as well as you, and you smile. The wind makes peace with the trees, The stars strike themselves in the dark. You get up and walk with the sigh of cotton plants. You go to sleep with a red sun on your palm, The sore light you see when you first stir in bed.

Mark - Poet Research

Billy Collins

You know the parlor trick.
wrap your arms around your own body
and from the back it looks like
someone is embracing you
her hands grasping your shirt
her fingernails teasing your neck
from the front it is another story
you never looked so alone
your crossed elbows and screwy grin
you could be waiting for a tailor
to fit you with a straight jacket
one that would hold you really tight.

Mark - Poet Research

Donald Hall

A storm was coming, that was why it was dark. The wind was blowing the fronds of the palm trees off. They were maples. I looked out the window across the big lawn. The house was huge, full of children and old people. The lion was loose. Either because of the wind, or by malevolent human energy, which is the same thing, the cage had come open. Suppose a child walked outside!

A child walked outside. I knew that I must protect him from the lion. I threw myself on top of the child. The lion roared over me. In the branches and the bushes there was suddenly a loud crackling. The lion cringed. I looked up and saw that the elephant was loose!

The elephant was taller than the redwoods. He was hairy like a mammoth. His tusks trailed vines. Parrots screeched around his head. His eyes rolled crazily. He trumpeted. The ice-cap was breaking up!

The lion backed off, whining. The boy ran for the house. I covered his retreat, locked all the doors and pulled the bars across them. An old lady tried to open a door to get a better look. I spoke sharply to her, she sat down grumbling and pulled a blanket over her knees.

Out of the window I saw zebras and rattlesnakes and wildebeests and cougars and woodchucks on the lawns and in the tennis courts. I worried how, after the storm, we would put the animals back in their cages, and get to the mainland.

Mark - Now We Are Free- Chosen Song Research

I've just got a few images relating to my chosen song, which is 'Now We Are Free' . It's about the gladiator with great passion, emotion and bravery.

Through the film which the song soundtracks, the gladiator misses his murdered family and really wants to be reunited with them in heaven but first he'll have to fight.

The top image is very moving, the way he is lent down brushing the top of the fields its like he's bin away but has come back home. The color is also very bright but easy on the eye.

The other images show him imprisoned with other men and with the emperor, Caesar. That image is moving as you can see the pain and grief in the eyes of Russell Crowe. You can see he just wants to free.

The colosseum is the venue in the film and history where all the fights were staged many battles were held. This is the epic view of a place held in history and at the time the worst for many prisoners and slaves.

All these images are very moving and tell their own message, the song is by Hans Zimmer. The lyrics are sad and the music is very emotional, you can see that same emotion in the eyes of Crowe.

I will collect more images and evidence before designing my storyboards, i want to try and capture the sheer emotion and heartache in my finals to explain just how lost and heroic the gladiator is.

mark - Angel Video by Massive Attack

Mark - Sledgehammer Video

Mark - Video Image Research

Here are 2 images from the music video Angel by Massive Attack. One shows a man and his expression to being nailed into a coffin and the other shows his view from the box while its being moved and screwed down.

These images are very strong and give you a sense of realism, both shots show great expression and angles.

The fact that the video is black and white gives it that dated feeling, which makes it seem more real and that it could be real, as these things used to happen back in the day.

The producer is trying to catch that facial reaction and state of shock when the man realizes that he is going to be buried alive! The above image showing the mans view is more disturbing, only being able to see the sky and screwdriver as the other man screws him in.

The suspense and tenseness of the image instantly makes you wonder if he does indeed get buried or somehow survives.

I will hope to use some strong imagery like this, giving a clear message and showing the viewer just how emotional it is.

Mark - Video Image Research

To start with i see two disturbing images that would creep me out. They are both from the music video by Marilyn Manson - Beautiful People.

He has weird ways of putting his message across and is not shy in what way he is seen by the world.

The lyrics discuss two major themes: what Manson refers to as 'the culture of beauty' and the cultures connection to Friedrich Neitzsche's theory of master-slave morality.

He's explaining that the songs 'weak ones' are always wrong and the 'strong ones' are the beautiful people.

It's known as one of his most successful tracks.

The images do show what he sees as beautiful people, but they are actually quite grim and weird looking with machines on their heads and bodies. His view was that the normal less motivated people are seen as weak and useless to modern society.

I personally wouldn't use images like this as i see them as being weird and disturbing, there very exploitive and strange.

I would maybe mimic the way in which he puts his message down, using people and different objects to show the emotion.

Lee - Album Cover Research

I like T-Pains album cover, its current, bright with colour and the typo is quite cool.

I think it helps with an album cover like this, it will get people interested and it will grab his audience.

He will be looking at mainly R&B fans and people who like dancing and high tunes!

Its set like its referring to a circus, this may be because his tracks have different variety and reach out to his fans.

There was a lot of hype surrounding his album as all his singles were very popular so people have been waiting patiently for his album to drop.

I like this Chris Brown album cover a lot. He is very famous for his big tunes and quality dancing and has many fans worldwide.

Some of his early music was very much pointed at the younger generation of fans and people into kiddy R&B and puppy love.

Since he grown up a lot and has started producing hot tracks such as 'You' & ' I Can Transform Ya'.

I think he wants to be seen as an older role model now, he wants to produce music for fans more to his age. He is growing up, taking his music and publicity with him.

Another artist who has grown an awful lot is Mario. He was in the same era as Chris Brown and has come a long way with the times.

He has had a transformation from young singer to mature artist.

His older album covers were happy smiley looking very kiddy and young, now he looks a grown man and very mature.

He makes track that are club bangers and that can be danced to. His album cover is slightly copying the cover for blockbuster film ' Die Hard 4.0 ' . I think it looks quite cool and does show he has grown a lot with the times.

Lil wayne is well known for his outrageous album covers and prints. This is no different!

He is pictured as a baby with all his tattoo's and jewelry on. I really do like it though, more for comical reason as it just looks cool to look at, as well as the baby looking totally cute and innocent.

There will be many different views on this cover but most people will love it.

It shows Lil Wayne has a very wide imagination and isn't afraid of taking chance.

I totally love this album cover, my personal favorite. The colors are so bright and amazing.

Kanye has recently bin in the news and limelight for many reasons but one is definitely his style and dress sense. He loves bright colors, sneakers and hats. He is one of the best dressed males in the music industry at present.

He wanted to reach out to fans on this album with collaborations and new styled music. His other albums have been about college and graduating, so he made this one in the same light making it seem like he is still a young kid.

The album cover matches his personality, which is also known worldwide. He is rather cocky and arrogant but thats what makes him who he is.

A personal favorite of mine, for both style and music production.

Lee - Andy Warhol Research

Lee - Music Research

I looked at some US news stories from online magazine - The Situation-Stateside.

It has the latest news and major stories on all the music stars and talents of the world.

There are different styles and genres of music on the site but mainly from the R&B and Hip Hop world featuring artists such as Jay Z and Lil Wayne.

Lee - Video Research

Another video that i like. It comes from the idea itself, real crew dancing and hip hop soundtracks.

Lee - Video Research

I love this video of Diversity, Britain's Got Talent winners. They have slick dance moves and the range of their dancing fits in with the genre of my chosen track.

I may edit some of this video and use it in my final. The clothing and moves will blend just right with other videos i choose.

Mark - Poet Research

T S Elliot

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
by T S Eliot

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question…
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair
[They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”]
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin
[They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”]
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
It is perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?…

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep… tired… or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: “That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.”

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor
And this, and so much more?
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old… I grow old…
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
by T S Eliot

MORNING AT THE WINDOW

by: T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)

HEY are rattling breakfast plates in basement kitchens,

And along the trampled edges of the street

I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids

Sprouting despondently at area gates.

The brown waves of fog toss up to me

Twisted faces from the bottom of the street,

And tear from a passer-by with muddy skirts

An aimless smile that hovers in the air

And vanishes along the level of the roofs.

"Morning at the Window" was originally printed in Poetry, September 1916.

Death by Water by: T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead, Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell And the profit and loss. A current under sea Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell He passed the stages of his age and youth Entering the whirlpool. Gentile or Jew O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

Ode by: T. S. Eliot (1888-1965)

To you particularly, and to all the Volscians Great hurt and mischief. Tired. Subterrene laughter synchronous With silence from the sacred wood And bubbling of the uninspired Mephitic river. Misunderstood The accents of the now retired Profession of the calamus. Tortured. When the bridegroom smoothed his hair There was blood upon the bed. Morning was already late. Children singing in the orchard (Io Hymen, Hymenaee) Succuba eviscerate. Tortuous. By arrangement with Perseus The fooled resentment of the dragon Sailing before the wind at dawn Golden apocalypse. Indignant At the cheap extinction of his taking-off. Now lies he there Tip to tip washed beneath Charles' Wagon.