March 11, 2010   1 note
Night at Ronin Inn, Bulldog Inn, Hwy 441 For this piece I projected the film “Sword of Doom,” an Edo Period drama directed by Kihachi Okamoto, 1966. This idea developed from my understanding of the role of the ronin, as a wandering samurai, self-removed from any greater allegiances and committed to a wanderers life. In my continuous search for forms necessitated by ideas, I chose to show this film in the interior of a dark motel room, so as to juxtapose the illusion of dramatic space in the film with the interior of the alienated motel room so as to force myself into a physical and psychological place in order to consider the implications of home, purpose, allegiances, and artistic process. It was an attempt at a sort of shock-meditation. I was fearful of my neighbors, I chose a room in the back of the motel so as not to attract attention to myself, I locked the doors, I closed the window blinds. I wanted to remind myself that I could leave by imagining myself as a ronin and dramatizing this event within the context of an artistic and very comfortable community in a small, safe town. Despite all of my efforts, which could be defined as the impetus for the work rather than the effect of it, only one person of around 25 invited people showed up. We watched the film, ate and drank, and talked about these ideas. What we realized came to be the objective reality for the work. This reality was that, I had my ideas, but hardly anyone cared, and that it was for the context which they made their decision not to participate. Because of this realization we devised a rule based on what we had seen of our community’s support of this work of art. If you show work in a safe and comfortable environment, they will view it. If you show work in a new and possibly unsafe environment, they will probably not view it. This may seem obvious but it was not to me when I chose to do this piece, or otherwise I may not have went to all the trouble. I am glad though that I did do the piece because I became a ronin that night. I wandered off the charts, to where noone could see, and there I was an artist, or more importantly I was living life. This is how an artist should be, like a samurai who has a code, but like a ronin who may wander off at will.

Night at Ronin Inn, Bulldog Inn, Hwy 441

For this piece I projected the film “Sword of Doom,” an Edo Period drama directed by Kihachi Okamoto, 1966. This idea developed from my understanding of the role of the ronin, as a wandering samurai, self-removed from any greater allegiances and committed to a wanderers life.

In my continuous search for forms necessitated by ideas, I chose to show this film in the interior of a dark motel room, so as to juxtapose the illusion of dramatic space in the film with the interior of the alienated motel room so as to force myself into a physical and psychological place in order to consider the implications of home, purpose, allegiances, and artistic process. It was an attempt at a sort of shock-meditation. I was fearful of my neighbors, I chose a room in the back of the motel so as not to attract attention to myself, I locked the doors, I closed the window blinds.

I wanted to remind myself that I could leave by imagining myself as a ronin and dramatizing this event within the context of an artistic and very comfortable community in a small, safe town.

Despite all of my efforts, which could be defined as the impetus for the work rather than the effect of it, only one person of around 25 invited people showed up. We watched the film, ate and drank, and talked about these ideas. What we realized came to be the objective reality for the work. This reality was that, I had my ideas, but hardly anyone cared, and that it was for the context which they made their decision not to participate.

Because of this realization we devised a rule based on what we had seen of our community’s support of this work of art. If you show work in a safe and comfortable environment, they will view it. If you show work in a new and possibly unsafe environment, they will probably not view it. This may seem obvious but it was not to me when I chose to do this piece, or otherwise I may not have went to all the trouble.

I am glad though that I did do the piece because I became a ronin that night. I wandered off the charts, to where noone could see, and there I was an artist, or more importantly I was living life. This is how an artist should be, like a samurai who has a code, but like a ronin who may wander off at will.


  1. layet posted this