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Monday, November 16, 2009
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Category: Art and Photography
I
haven't updated markmiremont.com in over 2 years and I will be relaunching it
in 2010 with all of my new works. Before you see them there, you can catch a preview of some of the new images on this Facebook Page
Since much of my work is figurative, and the topless images are not appropriate for facebook,
this will be just a taste. I will post several new images each week, so
check back often. - M
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Friday, July 24, 2009
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July 2009 story on my work with DITA... here.April 2009 quick Interview with, THE ARTERY MAGAZINE about my car kustomizing HERE.
March 2009 Interview in the Argentine, REVOLUTIONART MAGAZINE.
January 2009 feature on my work in THE FASHION BIRDCAGE... here.
Interview in the Italian art publication, STIRATO.
Here it is in English:
THE POPE OF PINUP
It's clear from the aesthetic in your photography that you love the spirit
of old America. At the same time you have such a unique and modern way
of representing it. What's your feeling about the old & the new?
True Beauty is timeless. It can bridge any chasm and should be the goal of
every culture. Everyone's life is cast against a backdrop of their time
and place, but I am less interested in reacting to the past or present
than I am in creating my own world. And although we are now at the
birth of the 21st century, I think art has been slowly dying ever since
the Dadaists gangbanged it almost 100 years ago. The post-modern era
has been little more than the marketing of bad jokes to less than 300
serious curators, collectors and publications. And while I love the
irreverence of putting a toilet or blank canvas on a wall and peddling
it for five million dollars, in the end, we can do better - both as
artist and collectors. What does it really say about museums and
collectors who exhibit and own such pieces? At best, they are
historians or investors. Sarcasm and decay have been in vogue for so
long, I wonder if anyone can appreciate sincerity and beauty. It is far
more revolutionary to be sincere in the post-modern world. It is also
much more difficult. It is easier to desecrate something than to create
something. Artists and cultures have forgotten the transcendent power
of true Beauty. If I do anything worthy with my time in the 21st
century, it will be to resurrect Beauty from the crucifixion it
suffered in the 20th century. This is my take on old and new.
Did '50 and '60 pin-ups start the real feminist and sexual revolution?
I wish that were true. It would make a great story. But I'm friends with
many of the well-known pinups and burlesque performers from the 50s and
60s. For them it was not so much the birth of a social revolution, as
it was a way to make a living off their talent and looks. Today of
course, there are people with Doctorate degrees who reference that era
and make socio-political statements about gender doing performance art.
That's been a trend for quite some time. Dixie Evans, Bettie Page and
Mamie Van Doren had to deal with an entirely different audience- one
that didn't want their mind stimulated as much as their libidos. The
sexual revolution was fought by people more interested in politics than
in pasties. And from where I sit, there really hasn't been this amazing
sexual revolution.If there was, it failed. Any revolution that does not
end in harmony is a failure. I wish someone would make a documentary
about human sexuality in the style of nature documentaries about other
species.Call it, "The Mating Rituals of Homo Sapiens". It would be the
greatest comedy ever told. Human sexuality is wonderfully ridiculous.
In your collection of philosophical writings, APHORISMS & ANTINOMIA,
you write: "The external is the internal. The internal is the external."
Can a photo find the real internal of a person? Or maybe you
don't want to show that. Maybe what we see in a photo is only a
representation of external?
You picked a very interesting aphorism. It's actually intended to be a jab
at the identity statements that obsessed 20th century analytic
philosophers since Frege, Wittgenstein and Quine, as well as being a
sincere summation of the truths in metaphysics I discovered through
solipsism. It had nothing to do with photography or art when I wrote
it. But I know what you are asking and it is a great question. I think
about this often myself. As someone working in figurative and portrait
photography, I would say my one goal is to conjure and bring out the
Beauty I believe exists within everyone. I search for beauty in some of
the least likely places, so sometimes a subject does not possess the
inner Beauty I hoped to find.That's when I go about composing a
beautiful photograph and focusing on formal beauty. But more often than
not, and always when I am working with one of my amazing friends, I am
overwhelmed by the inner Beauty I find. I have Stendal's Syndrome and
it is precisely when I am delirious that I know I fulfilling that destiny.
You also create feature films, music videos
and short films. What's the difference between all these different ways
of communicating with images?
The difference between feature films and short films is similar to the
difference between a novel and a poem. In general, feature films are
focused on storytelling. It is rare to find a two-hour film without a
clear narrative. Short films are free from the rules of storytelling.
People ask me to summarize my feature film,"The White Ocean", and I
honestly can't. Just as I couldn't summarize one of my poems. "The
White Ocean" is unique in that it is more concerned with the poetry of
film than with the rules of narration. Is hot it on 35mm black and
white and financed it myself. Money is the main obstacle to my showing
it because of the cost in making release prints. I have to admit, I am
not much of a salesperson and have not even showed it to anyone. I just
like making films. I don't care what happens to them after I edit them.
I am too anxious to move on to the next project. I have written several
new features and shot about 25 short films since I cut "The White
Ocean". I guess I should worry more about getting my work out in front
of audiences. I am prepping to shoot my second feature film right now
and have not even released my first one. But at least when I am dead,
people will have a lot to see.
KMFDM
A few images of Sascha & Lucia of KMFDM.
TRIBUTE TO NEW ORLEANS - ECHOSTREAM VIDEOS
The members of Echostream flew from NYC and Japan to work with me in New Orleans shortly after hurricane Katrina.
ECHOSTREAM "shadow on the cloud"
directed, produced & photographed by
Mark Miremont
VIEW THIS VIDEO
ECHOSTREAM "creep"
directed, produced & photographed by
Mark Miremont
VIEW THIS VIDEO
A still from the production:
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Thursday, November 15, 2007
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Category: Religion and Philosophy
Written in December 2006 at NY's Our Lady of Victory Basilica, this was originally intended to be a short film shot at the Basilique Notre-Dame de Montreal. The ACTRA strike of 2007 and problems with finding a cast thwarted this plan. It stands here now as a one act play available for stage performance.
..............
EXT - LA BASILIQUE NOTRE-DAMEde MONTREAL - CRÊPUSCULE
Il joue l'Agnus Dei deWojciech Kilar. La neige tombe et un vent étrangesiffle.
PRÊTRE
(vo)Si j'ai despouvoirs prophétiques, comprends tous les mystères et toute laconnaissance, et si j'ai toute la foi pour déplacer des montagnes maisn'ai pas d'amour, je ne suis rien. Si je donne tout ce que j'ai et sije livre mon corps à être brûlé, mais n'ai pas d'amour, je ne gagnerien...
INT -LA BASILIQUE NOTRE-DAME de MONTREAL
Le PRÊTRE est entrain de donner une cérémoniefunèbre.
PRÊTRE
(cont.)
...L'amour estpatient et gentil; l'amour n'est pas jaloux ou vantard, ni arrogant ougrossier. L'amour n'insiste pas sur sa propre voie; il n'est pasirritable ou amer; il ne se réjouit pas à faux, mais se réjouit dudroit. L'amour porte tous, croit tous, attend tous, et supporte tous.L'amour ne finit jamais ; quant aux prophéties, ils décéderont; auxlangues, ils cesseront; à la connaissance, il décédera. Car notreconnaissance ni notre prophétie n'est parfaite; mais quand le parfaitvient, l'imparfait décédera. Quand j'étais un enfant, j'ai parlé commeun enfant, j'ai pensé comme un enfant, j'ai raisonné comme un enfant;quand je suis devenu un homme, j'ai renoncé aux voies enfantines. Pourle moment nous voyons vaguement dans un miroir, mais alors face à face.Maintenant j'en connais quelques parties; alors je comprendraientièrement, lors j'ai été entièrement compris. Ainsi la foi, l'espoir,et l'amour observent, ces trois; mais le meilleur de ceux-ci estl'amour.
Prions.
TOUSNotre Père qui esaux cieux, que ton nom soit sanctifié, que ton règne vienne que tavolonté soit faite sur la terre comme au ciel. Donne-nous aujourd'huinotre pain quotidien. Pardonne-nous nos offenses, comme nous pardonnonsà ceux qui nous ont offensés. Ne nous laisse pas succomber à latentation, mais délivre-nous du mal… Amen.
PRÊTREDans tes bras,Dieu notre Père, nous te confions notre soeur, Marie. Seigneur, écoutenos prières et ouvre les portes du paradis à ton domestique etaide-nous qui restons à se consoler des assurances de foi, jusqu'à ceque nous tous soyons avec toi et avec notre soeur pourtoujours.
TOUSAmen.
PRÊTREAvant que nousallions nos voies séparées, faisons nos adieux à notre s--ur, Marie.Que notre adieu exprime notre affection pour elle; qu'il soulage notretristesse et renforce notre espoir. Un jour nous la salueronsjoyeusement de nouveau quand l'amour de Dieu, qui vainc toutes leschoses, détruit même la mortlui-même.
Le PRÊTRE asperge lecercueil de l'eau sainte. DISSOLVER à:
(WS) Passage de PARENTS DU DÉFUNT par lecercueil. Certains se mettent à genoux sur un banc d'observation etdisent au revoir avant partir. DISSOLVER à :
(EWS)Plus tard, quelques retardataires sortent-il ne reste qu'un parent dudéfunt solitaire.
LE PARENT DU DÉFUNT se lève,marche au cercueil et se met à genoux sur le banc d'observation.DISSOLVER à:
(CU) Après avoir été stoïque pourquelque temps, LE PARENT DU DÉFUNT s'écroule finalement etpleure.
Il regarde dans sa main, un astronome blanctout simple, et son cri devient incontrôlable.
Ilmet l'astronome à son nez et respire dans le parfum piquant,les yeuxfermés. Nous entendons le hurlement du vent d'hiver à l'extérieur etles cloches d'Église commencent à sonner. CUT TO:
Lecadavre. Sur le septième péage, LA MORT ouvre ses yeuxgelés.
LE PARENT DU DÉFUNT ouvre ses yeux et voit LAMORT lui regarder derrière. Il tombe du banc, puis par terre, toutpaniqué.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTMmm…Maman?
La mort ne fait que leregarderfixment.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTMAMAN?!
Battre.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTMAMAN?!
Battre.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTM...
LAMORT(Interruption)
Je ne suis pas tamère.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTMaman. Oh monDieu, tu es vivante! Que...qu'est-ce qu'il sepasse?
Il regarde autour et voitqu'il estseul.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTOn doit allerchercher quelqu'un. On doit trouver unmédecin.
LAMORTJe ne suis pas tamère.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTQue veux-tu direque tu n'est pas ma mère? Maman, tu es en vie...je n'y crois pas! Onpensait que tu étaitmorte.
LAMORTTu as besoin det'asseoir.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTM'asseoir?M'asseoir? Tu rigoles? Maman, il faut qu'on… Mon dieu… Tu veux que jet'aidelà?
LAMORTAssis.
Il s'assied lentement. Il ya une longue silence incrédule. LA MORT regarde en haut et ferme lesyeux. LE PARENT DU DÉFUNT commence à se lever anxieusement et LA MORTouvre lentement ses yeux denouveau.
LAMORTAssied-toi, j'aidit.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTJe…
LAMORTAssis.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTMaman, tu…tu…Ondoit aller voir un medecin.On pensait que tu était morte. Nous tous. Jene peux pas…
LAMORTJe ne suis pas tamère.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTMaman, tu esjuste, tu ne sais pas de quoi tu parles. Ils t'ont fait toutça…eux…Comment tu peux…quand ils… ?Mais toi tu es…Bon je vais chercherle…
Il selève.
LAMORTAssied-toi.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTOK.D'accord.
LAMORTJe ne suis pas tamère.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTMais je veuxjuste…
LAMORTJe ne suis pas tamère.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTArrête de direça!
LAMORTAssied-toi.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNT(selevant)
Et arrête de me demander dem'asseoir!
LAMORTAssied-toi.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNT(S'Asseyant)
D'accord.
LAMORT(Bougeant samâchoire )
Laisse-moi un instant.
Laisse-moi uninstant.
Laisse-moi uninstant.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNT(Secouant latête)
Je n'y croispas…
LAMORTDonne- moi uninstant.
C'est bizarre.
C'estbizarre.
Ouvre tes yeux.
Ouvre tes yeuxmaintenant.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTOuvremes…?
Quoi?
LAMORTN'aies pas peur.Vous avez tous tellement peur de moi.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTMaman, qu'est-ceque tu racontes? On t'aime. Je ne peux pas croire que tu es encorevivante. Pourquoi tu agis commeça?
LAMORTJe ne suis pasvivante,et je ne suis pas ta mère non plus.
LA MORT fixe le regard tout froid sur
LAMORTTu peux me poserdesquestions.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTDesquestions?Bon…Que passe-t-il ? Pour commencer. Comment ça se passe ?Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?
LAMORTOn va avoir uneconversation, toi etmoi.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNT(Incrédule)
Ohlala! Toi et moi? Unpapotage. Moi, je vais papoter avec ma mèredécédée?
LAMORTJe ne suis pas tamère.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTOui je l'aicompris! Tu as dit mille fois. Mais voyons…Le fait est que, MA MERE ESTMORTE ! Et là, elle…tu es, en train de me parler!
LAMORTElle estmorte.
Des larmes coulent sur le visage duPARENT DU DÉFUNT.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTQu'est-ce que…Qu'est-ce que tu lui asfait?
LAMORTNe t'inquiètepas. Tout vabien.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTJe ne m'inquiètepas, mais cela ne vapas.
LAMORTShhhhhh… Tu esinquiet et tu as le droit de l'être. Tu vois cette jolie église ? C'estla crainte de moi qui a mené à sa création... Toutes les églises, lestemples et les mascarades pour ces merveilleuses religions avec leursdieux, paradis, enfers, purgatoires, réincarnations ettransmigrations... Tout d'une crainte de moi et mesmystères...
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTTu l'as pris etmaintenant elle est part. Elle était belle et bonne. Tu lui as donné lecancer et l'as fait en souffrir pendant quatreans!
LAMORTJe suis la fin dechaque phrase
Je suis la fin de chaque histoire
Jesuis votre désespoir. Je suis le calme après le dernier souffledérangé. Je suis l'oeil toujours fermé et cette main froide. Et je suisle silence qui enveloppe tout,partout.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTAlors c'est tout?Nous sommes des horloges sans retourner en arrière? La cloche sonne ledernier coup et c'est la fin ? Le cerveau meurt, la consciences'assoupit et nous devenon néants ? C'est juste physique ? Science?
LAMORTLa science estjuste une autre religion. Il ne craint pas mon mystère, mais il estassez idiot de penser qu'il peut l'arranger ou l'écarter. Mais il y acombien de temps que la science a proclamé que la terre est flate etque l'univers tourne autour d'elle ? Tu crois vraiment que les véritésactuelles de science sont plus réelles ? Il prétend savoir ce qui estau-delà de sa capacité decomprendre.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTJe ... je ne saispas ce que tu essaies de medire.
LAMORTCe Dieu est lavie. Trouver ton Dieu, pour trouver la signification, regarde la vie...Rien n'est plus important que la vie. Tu dois le célébrer comme lesgens vraiment religieux célèbrent Dieu. Tu es né pour mourir. A toi dechoisir àvivre.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTJe… C'est vraique je…Je…
LAMORTIl y a unedifférence entre exister etvivre.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTJe le fais,j'essaie. Je suis juste… Ma mère n'a pas mérité desouffrir.
LAMORTTa mère étaitcomme une feuille qui a fleuri d'une branche pour faire partie d'unarbre. Une feuille apparaît et change des couleurs avec les saisons,alors se fane finalement et tombe de l'arbre pour devenir la poussière.L'arbre continue à vivre ... et même quand l'arbre meurt finalement...des nouveaux arbres, avec de nouvelles feuilles, sortent de cettepoussière. Ta mère avait son destin et sa place dans ce joli monde. Ily a un ordre à cela même si ça te paraît trouble etdouloureux.
LE PARENT DUDÉFUNTIl semble que tun'existies pas alors. Tu le fais sembler que tout aille sans arrêt.Alors que ma conscience ? Mon âme ? Mon esprit? ... Quoi que tul'appelles.
LA MORTsourit.
LAMORTEt quand tudors?
Je m'en fiche ce qui se passe quandje dors! Ah oui je sais, j'ai compris… Je ne suis pas consciencieux laplupart du temps. Je dors. Je marche quelque part et oublie comment j'ysuis allé parce que j'étais dans une transe. La différence est que...jeme réveille! J'ai toujours un cerveau et un corps qui fonctionnent.Mais quand je meurs, je ne me réveille plus jamais et mon corps sedécompose. Donc signifie-t-il que je ne suis plus consciencieux? Que jen'existe plus ? Que je n'aie aucuneâme?
LAMORTCe conceptd'existentiel "JE" est ce qui t'empêche de voir. Pense-tu vraiment quetu es seulement "toi"? C'est une perspective très étroite - comme cellede la feuille à sa place sur l'arbre et dans la forêt. Tout est lié etfait partie de tout le reste. La mort n'est pas une fin. La naissancen'est pas un début. Tu accomplis un destin comme la partie de quelquechose plus grand...quelque chose qui n'a pas de fin ... la vieelle-même...leDieu.
Une cloche d'église sonne…LA MORT sourit AU PARENT DU DÉFUNT.
Une cloched'église sonne… sourit à la MORT.
Une cloched'église sonne… LA MORT regarde en basl'Astronome.
Une cloche d'église sonne… LE PARENT DUDÉFUNT regarde en bas l'Astronome.
Une cloched'église sonne… On voit l'Astronome. Le vent d'hiversiffle.
Une cloche d'église sonne… LE PARENT DUDÉFUNT lève les yeux pour voir que...
Une cloched'église sonne… LA MORT est partie et il y a seulement le cadavre viede sa mère.
(EWS) LE PARENT DU DÉFUNT selève, place l'astronome dans la main de sa mère et quittel'église.
| ..
©2007, Mark Miremont
Registered,WGA
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Thursday, December 29, 2005
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I was supposed to move to New Orleans on November 1st to escape the Western New York Winter and do my work in a warmer climate until Spring. The French Quarter is my favorite place in America and aside from Bourbon Street, it is probably the least American place in America. Well, we all know what happened: the worst disaster in this country's history, Hurricane Katrina, ripped through the city and Gulf area, displacing 1.2 million families. Million. Not hundred. Not thousand. Not hundred thousand. Million. Many of these people have nowhere to go. The poor. The elderly. They live in the rubble of their prior lives still without electricity and running water. Their homes, lives and jobs are gone. And aside from the loss felt when a lifetime of collected material items and investment are taken from you, many have lost more: A wife. A father. A sister. A neighbor. A pet. This ocean of loss is magnified further by the prolific insult that people outside the area think the crisis is over. The story barely registers a bleep in the national media, yet the Army Reservists I spoke with say the devastation is worse than what they saw in Iraq. New Orleans is the cradle of the only uniquely American art forms- Jazz and Blues. There would be no Rock and Roll if the were no NoLa. The fact that these people and this culture are being forgotten is worse than the disaster itself, because it doesn't have to be that way. I wanted to help. So I went down for the Holidays. And as you see from these humble snapshots, the cleanup and the healing have yet to even begin. 
So that is the ugly reality of what used to be just one neighborhood. The horrealism is not palpable in simple imagery. You have to walk the streets and see the toys that hang like fruit in the trees to really feel it. You wonder where all these people are now. Many are living in other states. The ones that stayed? Some are being evicted so greedy landlords can charge out-of-town construction workers a heftier rent. Many are living in tents and trailers in the parking lot of a Wallmart or in a lovely place called "tent city" where as you read this, hundreds of people are sleeping on cots 3 feet from eachother. This is months after the disaster. You won't hear on the news that bodies are still being found- which they are and will be for months. The recovery will take years. Bulldozing is not the easy answer because there isn't even a place for this mass of rubble to go. It looks like an atomic bomb went off. And what is worse is that while federal and local governments squabble, you can see the hearts breaking in the eyes of the affected. Private organizations like the Red Cross and church groups are doing a better job with their limited resources. One of the few places I could find to volunteer over the holidays was Emergency Communities, a new non-profit that focuses on getting food, clothes and the basics of existence out to the displaced. These snaps were taken on Christmas Eve in the tent camp on a parking lot that comprises the base in the St. Benard Parish... 
Most of the volunteers sleep in tents or sleeping bags...
or in the dorm...
ahhhh... so comfortable when it is 30 degrees outside and you have been in the kitchen standing for 12 hours!
The main task is prepping 600-1200 meals a day. That, and fiddlin' of course...
On the right we have a counsilman from St. Benard's Parish who taught me
how to shuck oysters. No kidding, his friend's name is "Bozo". Tre Cool.
Yum, the oysters went into the Traditional N'orleans Oyster Stuffing...
Our lovely kitchen goddesses brought out snacks to...
...the people waiting in the long line. But what are they waiting for?
Santa! He came with a police escort and...
The kids couldn't wait to sneak a peek a him...
and his helpers!
Ho Ho Ho What do you want for Christmas lil girl?
It didn't matter. Every child got lots of gifts.
It was without a doubt the most rewarding and frustraiting holiday I've ever had. I am now working with Emergency communities to try and secure them a brick and mortar facility to base the next six months of their operations out of. Right now there is no running water for showers, no heat and only outhouses for the volunteers. Some of them have been helping for several weeks. You do the math on what great people these are. I will definately be going back. If you'd like to help, feel free to write me or contact them at www.emergencycommunities.org SIDE NOTE If it weren't for my stalker, these kids would have had another $900.00 in toys and food... I have 3 cars and only need 2. So I posted an ad on Craigslist to try to sell the van I bought to haul stuff out from CA to NY. But this person is (1) so insane as to be stalking craiglist for ads I might post, then (2) a jerk enough to write 8 seperate listings, making up stories, telling people not to buy it even when I posted the proceeds would go to benefit the victims of Katrina. I actualy know Craig who founded craigslist and he personally removed each of her posts (she went so far as to use different computers to get around his IP blocks). I finally just took the ad down because frankly, I didn't want this person's emense ugliness as a human to infect my mood on this trip. I just think it is pathetic that someone could go so low as to try and sully helping the victims of a disaster. And you wonder why I run from idiots like this?
 | Currently listening:
Gimme Shelter
By The Rolling Stones
Release date: 19 September, 2001 |
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