Friday, September 20, 2013

L'éclipse de l'âme

## November 2012. L'éclipse de l'âme (I-V). Jan Mast

## L'éclipse de l'âme I : Please, Dance on the Sea at Night
Francis F.
Jan Mast.
It's been lightyears.
Many times the sun was hiding.
Did you see vast white landscapes?
Endless horizons?
I prefer mountains.
Were you there too?
Yes, I was. I don't know.
I learned to forget.
What do you fear? Are you suffering?
No. Yes. Both.
They look for holes in my story.
Dark places that feel cold.
Things I managed to forget.
You see...
Are you hiding ?
Like a restless animal.
Tracking you down.
Do you want to go back in space?
The great escape?
Start over.
Safe havens protect you from life.
We meet here by accident.
We are drinking together by chance.
I decided to start talking to you.
You chose to listen.
Don’t try to get there sooner.
I have been there.
And I came back.
Your today is a second of my past.
No, I move before your eyes.
Everytime you blink, I visit then and now.
I move forward and back again.
You'll never catch me.
I am your eclipse.
I jump into the sun.
L’éclipse de l’âme.

## L'éclipse de l'âme II : Looking for the Juggling Man
(extracts of Dante Alighiero / images only / extracts of William Burroughs, What keep mankind alive?)

## L'éclipse de l'âme III : L'éclipse de l'objet, l'éclipse du sujet
j'aime les montagnes
and the sea at night
what's that ?
it tastes like bacon
dust on my shoes

## L'éclipse de l'âme IV : The Strong Poet's Anxiety of Influence
(images only)

## L'éclipse de l'âme V : Exit Interzone

Somebody dies, the camera, that is.

The camera gets buried.
Do I die?

I almost did.
Or at least it felt like that.

I somehow link it to my possible greatgreatgreatgreatgreatgrandmother, buried alive, because she wouldn't convert to another belief.
She was a Hugenot.

I burst out in tears, desperate for air, breathing erratically, as if my body suddenly engaged with a strange energy rush.
I felt her pain, somehow, anyway, I was her, for a short while.

L’éclipse I :
Internal language / Hineinsystematik / the inner world / the me.

L’éclipse II :
Internal language + studying another language (Philip Van Isacker) / the inner world contrasted / the me and somebody else as different entities.

L’éclipse III :
Internal language + multiple languages interfering / the inner world manipulated / the me and many more (Nico Dockx, Ann Veronica Janssens, Krist Torfs).

L’éclipse IV :
Internal language + external language (Pauwel De Buck) = new language / the inner world expanding / the me and somebody else converging.

L’éclipse V :
Internal language becomes external language / the inner world moves into the outer world / the me becomes the you / a new story begins (Douglas Park).

The you becomes the me again.

Before the images leave me.

I see a dark space.
A room?
Smooth walls, silken, could be a tomb, or even the universe.
The silk moves.
Somebody has died.
A pale woman stands above the grave, dark clothes, big eyes, red red lips.
She starts to sing Dante.
The dead stay dead, but they also stay alive.
Zoom in on the singing lady.
The camera moves away, towards the ceiling, into the pale blue lamp, overlit sunlight.

For the singing woman, an opera singer.
Her voice carries us.

A Polish song.

For the dead woman, a frail beauty, open eyes.
Clear eyes take my breath away.
White face, colourless lips, light hair, fine hands, dangerously innocent, but strong inside. She chooses to die for her beliefs.



Tableaux vivants.


Marie-Antoinette is dancing around, casual, free as a bird.
Who knows what awaits here?
Where has she been?
Where will she go?
It looks so dated. Until she swirls and turns and slams against the fire exit. The doors open. Light blinds us.
Neon lights.
Like she just strolled out of a disco or something, a nightclub undefined.
Her face looks older in this light, more aged.
She moves through the streets.

Welcome back, Alice.

A softly faded colour in her attitude.
Maybe dwelling in all her could-have-beens and ifs.

Cars pass under the bridge.
Could be summer.
The sky is clear.
It could be morning.
The lights are still on.

Waterfalls, I want them, waterfalls.

Strange nature.



( Please, Dance On The Sea At Night )
text, camera, sounds, editing by Jan Mast
voice performance by Douglas Park
includes excerpts of :
Collapsing Stories / D is Doneby Jan Mast & Madensuyu, 2008
Flesh to White to Black to Fleshby Bruce Nauman, 1968
Good Boy, Bad Boyby Bruce Nauman, 1985

( Looking For The Juggling Man )
camera, sounds, editing by Jan Mast
sounds by Philip Van Isacker
includes excerpts of : Within The Movement Of Time / The Juggling Man by Philip Van Isacker, 2009
Aguaespejo Granadinoby José Val del Omar, 1953-1955
What Keeps Mankind Alive by William S. Burroughs, 1994

( L’éclipse de l’objet, l’éclipse du sujet )
text, camera, sounds, editing by Jan Mast
text by Nico Dockx
editing in collaboration with Nico Dockx, Ann Veronica Janssens, Krist Torfs
includes excerpts of : L'éclipse de l'objet, l'éclipse du sujet, 2009 by Nico Dockx, Ann Veronica Janssens, Krist Torfs

( The Strong Poet’s Anxiety Of Influence )
camera, editing by Jan Mast
soundscape by Pauwel De Buck
includes excerpts of :
Le corbeau et le renard by Marcel Broodthaers, 1967
what are we doing here! by Rirkrit Tiravanija & Arto Lindsay, 2008

( Exit Interzone )
text, camera, editing by Jan Mast
voice performance, text
revisal by Douglas Park
includes excerpts of : Freak Orlando by Ulrike Ottinger, 1981


Brian Butler & the Hollywood Hills / Miguel & Pauline de Potter & the misty woods of Bredau / Lieve Laporte & her lightning feedback / Thomas Verbeke & his grandmother's engraved rifle / Nathalie Janssens de Bisthoven / Pauwel De Buck / Barbara De Schouwer / Nico Dockx / Helena Laporte / Madensuyu / Douglas Park / Patrick Ronse / Alexander Saverys / Clara Sobrino Heyvaert / Nico Strobbe / Rirkrit Tiravanija / Patrick Ronse / Philip Van Isacker / Peter Verkest / Ann Veronica Janssens & anybody I might forget / anybody I might have filmed / you


BEPART, platform for contemporary art, Waregem


©2012 Jan Mast

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