Posts Tagged ‘wings’

 

Wings of Desire

 

 

one of the most beautiful, moving, poetic films I have ever seen is Wings of Desire..

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i mean the original Wim Wenders version in German with subtitles  (German title literally translates as Wings over Berlin), with a script chiefly written by the brilliant and controversial Austrian writer Peter Handke. Not the hideous American remake starring the Nicholas Cage as an angel and dandelion haired Meg Ryan as a brain surgeon.

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wings of Desire is one of those exquisite films you can see over and over, but not often for it is very potent.

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everything about it is beautiful;The idea, for a start.

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it is the story of two angels, Damiel (played by the sublimely perfect Bruno Ganz) and Cassiel (played by Otto Sander) who hover over and move about Berlin outside time, witnessing all thoughts that occur to humans. They live in a parallel black and white world, and are unable to feel or be seen or felt by humans. Then Damiel falls in love with a beautiful tightrope walker.

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made just before the wall came down, the theme of  divided worlds permeates the film on many levels. It exploits the tension between the overlapping states of angel and human, but Wenders’ angelic realm does not conform to traditional ideas of angels.

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 having carefully watched human beings from the beginning of time, the two angels know humanity better than we know ourselves. But while their realm continue reading

 

Being normal

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it is a slate grey day such as I might have drawn in black ink on the thick watercolour paper I like best. It has a rough texture over which the points of the thin nibs I use, scratch like little claws.


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this image of myself as a bird flows naturally from the work I am doing, cross hatching a midnight horizon. For as I ink, my thoughts rise above the snarl of trams and cars wound around buildings,  to hover and soar, alive and responsive to the  invisible electric currents of energy that encircle and enliven the world.

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that is the power of doing pen and ink drawings. Not just the power that comes in the act of creation, but the power that  comes with the physical act of this particular creative work.

 

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once  I pass beyond designing a drawing in pencil, much of the inkwork is repetition.  It requires great concentration on the physical level to crosshatch a sky or to draw each pebble on a plain, or each hair riffled by a wind, but the repetition is like a mantra that eventually lets my mind fly free.  I suspect part of the freedom comes from the fact that, in drawing these images,  I am doing something concrete and specific  (ie something I am MEANT to be doing) so rather than reining in that untethered mind and setting it to dutifully work,  I can … continue reading