Reposted:
Putting on lipstick...
Talking about birds...
Keyhole & secret exhibitionist
First, I think it is key to give you some background on Roxanne Carter, the author, and often subject, of the vlog Persephassa. Carter is not a filmmaker, but a grad student at Brown University pursuing a degree in the Literary Arts; namely, she is a fiction writer. That said, I find that her vlogs are particularly interesting because her usage of the medium is, in a manner, to comment on questions of filmic “truth (the active presence of fiction in even “documentary”-style narratives),” of the creation of the subject (and thus, a self), and of vulnerability that so often accompanies an attempt to be truthful through a visual form. Without the usage of the type of camerawork, or for that matter equipment, associated with filmmakers using vlogs as an expressive form, Carter is limited to a camera that takes 40-second silent clips, which she then splices together, adding music, dialogue, and voice-over during the editing process.
There are three vlogs in particular I wish to analyze (though two will be brief), beginning with the vlog, “Putting on lipstick...” In this brief video, Carter situates the camera in a static position (medium eye-level, so that we feel as if we are sitting across from her), and as the fade up opens to an empty chair against a brick wall, she enters the frame, always aware of being watched by the camera. Dressed in garb quite reminiscent of the 1930s, complete with bobbed hair, she seats herself in a purposely feminine position, carefully glancing at the camera as she rearranges herself, opening a compact to begin applying lipstick. There is rampant usage of mirrors in these vlogs, which segue into the process of the vlog as filmic “reflection,” which in the vlog, “Talking about birds...” delves into the question of memory. The soundtrack for this particular piece consists of snippets of conversations from parties, wherein we are unsure if her voice is amongst them. Appropriately, they are discussing Ginger Rogers films (cleverly including a comment on “montage” in musicals of the period), and thus, we associate what Carter is doing with the act of performing, despite the disrupt in the lively discussion about dancing and song, with Carter’s purposeful construction of “her face.” It is eerily fitting then that the light she is using is entirely natural, lending the frame a sort of eerie flat tone (which could be contrasted with the soft filter used on most Hollywood female stars).
Suddenly, the camera shifts (in visible cutting), and the soundtrack fades in to loud music and shouted conversation, usually involving repetition of fragments of conversation: “I want to put sparkles on!” “You’re from LA! Helloooo?” “Ohhhh!!! WOOOOO!!!” “You’ve got it girl, you look so amazing!” The subject of this talk, we assume to be the figure of Carter, which we have just seen in the process of “becoming” a Hollywood star. Ironically, throughout much of this scene, the camera is not on Carter at all, but on a squirrel in the backyard, of a cat watching the squirrel, and eventually a man gazing at the camera (not awkward, as Carter herself seemed to be) with the cat in his hands. Here, the soundtrack shifts yet again to a man’s voice (the same man we have just seen?) reciting, what I find to be a key aspect of this vlog: “We have to sit on different sides of the room – those who consider ourselves storytellers and those who consider ourselves fiction writers...and she’s (what I assume to be Carter) promised soon we’ll divide ourselves up until there’s one person on each side of the table.” Throughout this soundtrack, the camera returns to Carter entering the frame to apply lipstick, though this time, she spends a great deal more time situating herself, glancing back and forth at the camera, straightening her back, until eventually she is holding a pose of gazing away from the camera until the man’s statement ends the piece. It is here that we wonder, what is the difference between a storyteller and a fiction writer? Is this a piece of fiction? Is she in fact, telling us a story? Must it be considered different at all? Where does film fit into this question, and how in turn does the role of the camera directly relate to ideas of truth (meaning is the Roxanne Carter we are seeing the way Roxanne Carter is, or chooses to be seen)?
The question of film as “truth” is brought up directly in the rambling narrative, “Talking about birds,” a 7-minute monologue in voice-over involving Carter discussing buying a birdfeeder, and tangentially moving into a grave divulgence that she may in fact have killed two birds as a child as a result of believing in film as reality: the birds, one brought in wounded, the other a fledgling, both died when Carter attempted to release them into the air by throwing open her hands. The birds, stunned as opposed to being prepared for “freedom,” fell to the floor, where Carter assumes they died. Throughout this portion of the monologue, Carter uses the hand-held camera to search the trees and phone lines for birds, which coincides with a visual metaphor of linear strings carrying us back and forth through memories.
In the third vlog, “Keyhole & the secret exhibitionist,” Carter most literally interprets psychoanalysis’ questions of voyeurism in film. However, what is interesting to me about this montage (it is a series of single frames cut together), is that Carter occupies both the gaze and the object of the gaze, in what is potentially a narcissistic interpretation, or a “self-sexuality;” in the shot-reverse-shot Carter gazes at herself, and in turn, is seemingly aware that she is being gazed at (the positions of her semi-nude body are constructed as “nude” rather than “naked” – she is performing for the camera, or rather, for herself). This could be read as an embodiment of sexuality, as she is presenting her body, in the film at least, to and for herself, but yet, the vlog is public, and thus, she is performing her sexuality (hence, the exhibitionist) for us, as the audience.
