'Blue' at the Tate Modern, until 6 Apr 14
Since its first release in 1993, Derek Jarman’s ‘Blue’ has acquired the reputation of one of the most experimental or most pretentiously arty films. Though, to me, it is one of the most private, personal and cinematic experiences, I completely understand such criticisms based on ideology or taste; in the end the director himself would be the first to ask us to doubt everything revered. So, I was prepared to be met with anti-blueists at the film’s latest incarnation as a projection in a small room in the Tate Modern.
What I was not prepared for was the realisation of how urgent it has become nowadays to allow ourselves to dedicate a few minutes to something like ‘Blue’.
There was a constant stream of visitors of all ages and nations. Most would not stay for even a moment, to try see what this room is all about. Others would catapult themselves to catch one of the few seats and rest themselves from all the exploits of a tourist. All would spare no more than one second on the screen or sound, then reach for their phones or friends.
My patience already tried for twenty minutes, the newly arrived couple snogging on the sofa next to me was the last straw. Though completely certain that Jarman wouldn’t find anything more delightful than his work desecrated by an amorous couple, he would still find it in poor taste.
The experience of Tate Modern’s level 4 ‘Blue’ was unbearable. I left before the hour, angry and sad as I was, for days, looking forward to a public screening of one of my treasured films.
How did the Tate get it so wrong? My only answer is that someone thought this way they could bring something so experimental to the masses, to expose as many passers by to it as possible. But good intentions are often not only inadequate but also damaging. The setup only reinforces the preconception of ‘Blue’ and similar endeavours as out of touch with reality and any mass sensibility, and that is so erroneous. ‘Blue’ is treated here as a video art installation, but it is not. It is a film. 4 reels of it. The saturated blue gets scratched, revealing its nature, on a screen enclosing you in it. A small sofa and two benches in a tiny room are not welcoming for this, are not inviting you to meditate or mediate any thoughts of staying, concentrating or letting go as you are predisposed to assume that you are there on borrowed time. You are predisposed to the role of the passerby, as you have been, all day. Unlike in the Serpentine that got it just right a few years ago, this parade of visitors are lead to the room, then magnificently, left to roam blind. Our ever growing impatience and short span is met with uninspired ideas on curating.
While discussing this with JL, he rightfully compared our impatience with the impatience of a tech junky unable to dedicate a few minutes to a glowing big screen where seemingly nothing happens instead of our seductive glowing black mirrors. Only that the whole world happens, through the soundtrack and our own projections on this blue screen. It is a great thing, our black mirrors, permanently attached to us; do we though lose something cognitively more and more?
When ‘Blue’ was first broadcast on TV, Channel 4 and BBC Radio 3 collaborated on a simultaneous broadcast so that the audience could experience it in stereo. Apparently, people would also be sent blue cards to look at instead if they had no TV. When I first read this, my reaction was one of superiority, fake nostalgia and a self righteous smile about how - aww! - they had to do such a silly thing back then for effect. But my sardonic thoughts soon turned into a cold and dark veil of sadness and loss. For I got so jealous of all those, there, at the first broadcast; how, possibly, the prospective audience spent a good few minutes making sure the radio worked and was tuned in, that the tv worked, made themselves comfortable, poured a drink or made a cup of tea, waiting for the simultaneous event, knowing that all those people collaborated on this, possibly took the telephone off the plug, too, just to be sure.
How much of this have we lost? And what would that mean?
Our vision too fast, everything ready to be found, a world too impatient for ‘Blue’.
What will that mean?
Maybe we should slow down a bit, just to make sure. Maybe it is essential for institutions like the Tate to think harder next time, think of the necessity of facilitating patience, of offering a small place where we can still go back to the time before our black mirrors, where looking at an almost unchanging monochrome projection of real film, in real time, deteriorating with each projection like its creator’s eyesight, is an event, even without soundtrack. To a place and time where, like the dying Jarman in the flat above the Phoenix, we have full realisation of time well passed by experiencing and appreciating and observing; like looking outside a train window on a journey of an hour; where like him, without sight, without movement, without much breath and without any future we can still make a whole world just out of ourselves.
‘In the pandemonium of image, I present you with the universal Blue’.
Goodnight Derek,
Goodnight Maurice,
Goodnight.
more info:
http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/derek-jarman-into-the-blue-he-is-not-living-with-aids-he-says-but-dying-with-it-but-he-works-on-his-new-film-and-his-very-presence-are-reminders-of-how-in-him-radical-challenge-and-disarming-delight-go-hand-in-hand-simon-garfield-reports-1461014.html
http://www.evanizer.com/articles/blue/index.html
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28j8D1nPoVc (with subtitles for those with hearing issues)
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