Film On Flesh

In Gracie's review of John & Mary (1969), there are images from the film of one of those gosh-darn-cool-big-city parties where those naughty artistic folks projected film onto live nude girls a female nude.


I've not seen the film (yet), but have, naturally, heard-tell of such things. When I read/saw the John & Mary review, I was reminded that I'd recently stumbled upon some more recent projection photographs and I realized something... Why I had not thought much of them.

I then tried to retrace my Internet-steps, which was not easy. I couldn't find the original photographer's website -- and I searched, doggedly, for over an hour, with no luck (which made this female bitchy). Instead, I offer you this: The Living Canvas.



What strikes me, when I think of those radical retro artsy projection parties, is the fleeting nature of moving images upon flesh -- which also moves. You have the magic of something seen on, by not felt by, the model/canvas/person. You have the ephemeral quality of it all happening in moments, and then it's gone.

It's titillating, transitory... Arousing and alive. And then it's over. No matter how young, ripe and lush the body, the life, the party or event, everything ends. Only to live on in memories and flashbacks, I suppose.

I 'get' the performance, be it the old or artsy party or the new theatrical event; but the photographs seem to loose something. What they 'gain' in ability to keep, they loose in luster. The very stillness of the human form, the lack of movement, even subtle breathing, puts the matter of 'alive' into question and the moment saved is really not the moment at all.

When performance, however subtle, is replaced by a pose, it's just film on film.

No longer is the flesh really a part of the image at all.

And for me, the thrill is gone.