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Screen Talk

Laurie Anderson

May 3, 2008 – Cinema One

Barbican Centre

ary Couzens

A review by Mary Couzens for EXTRA! EXTRA!

This programme of films by and about American performance artist/musician/composer/film-maker Laurie Anderson offers rare glimpses into her early years as an unsuspecting ‘pop icon’ as well as insight into what went into making her into the performer she is today.

We were informed prior to the start of the programme, that we’d be seeing some shorts from Anderson’s early career before a brief interview conducted by theatre director Mark Esquier after which the twenty five minute film, Hidden Inside Mountains which had been commissioned for EXPO 2005 Achi in Japan would be screened, followed by a Q & A with the audience.

Shorts screened included the videos for ‘O Superman’ (1981) and ‘Sharkey’s Day’ (1984), as well as clips from PBS Live from Off-Centre, ‘What You Mean We?’ (86), and Public Service Announcements – (1990)
It was great fun to see Anderson sporting fuchsia lipstick and a candy pink baseball jacket in her eighties days, complaining about having ‘so many photo shoots, ‘ that she ‘had no time to do any actual work.’ Her attempts at being androgynous in an oversized suit and skinny tie didn’t really work though, as she was just too cute and spunky in her own wide-eyed, lip-glossed, spiky haired way to look like anything but an all American girl at the time, though she’d probably hate my saying so! The ‘public service announcements’ Anderson’s record company had allowed her to make for TV are announced by the words, ‘It’s Our Pleasure to Serve You,’ and a spinning paper coffee cup with Greek columns and goddesses on it. The down home urban opening is appropriate as all of the announcements are set in a diner, sometimes with Anderson superimposed into groups of dining patrons. The ‘announcements’ had nothing to do with the material on her albums of the time though they’re all the more amusing for the randomness of their subject matter and offer great insight into her off-beat sense of humour. Early clips of Anderson in her home studio, demonstrate how she worked in those days, while snippets of her performing/ kicking out the jams in a white satin trouser suit and skinny neck-tie, while musically exploring William’s Burrough’s line, ‘Language is a Virus’ captures live, on stage action. Another video-styled vignette finds her performing, as a petticoat wearing, big earringed, derby-clad singer in front of an all girl group on the tiny stage of a nightclub, showing her diversity as well as her ever present sense of fun! Her lyrics are nothing like the other frothy Bananarama clones of the eighties though, as they describe the fact that women were then earning ’63 cents an hour, compared with each dollar’ men were making. In addition to lead singer, she also acts as a raven haired waitress and her spike-haired, be suited self, who’s skived out by all the fuss and hurriedly high tails it outta there! Several comical segments were also shown intermittently, in which Anderson plays both herself and a male counterpart, shrunken down a la Mr. Thatcher in Splitting Images, which she refers to as her ‘clone’, donned in plaid leisure trousers and pink shirt, complete with deep voice, bushy eyebrows, moustache and greased back hair. Its truly hilarious to see her masculine alter ego consulting the ‘real’ Anderson on every move he makes as he attempts to do his ‘creative thing’, trying his hand at song-writing, while she grunts disinterestedly in response to all of his questions from behind her newspaper! When the ‘pair’ are seated side by side, and Anderson drolly comments on the oddity of seeing ‘some kind of reflection of yourself,’ the effect is very funny. Watching these vintage experiments with voice alteration/ role swapping showed where the male voice/alter ego she sometimes uses in her current show, Homeland originated. Though luckily, her suggestion to her clone that ‘he’ write a song about Hansel and Gretel, which he cleverly dubbed ‘Hansel and Gretel in Berlin’ never materialised!

Anderson’s abiding interest in social issues is not just represented in her song lyrics. In one socially conscious clip she describes one woman’s reaction to a protest she and her fellow feminists staged against the ‘economic exploitation of women’ at a Manhattan Playboy Club. Seems the young woman, a Playboy bunny, was trying to push past them to get to work, when they interrupted her. She took Anderson aside to inform her that, in her opinion, their protest would be better served by heading down to the garment district where female workers were being paid 10 cents an hour, rather than the $800.00 a week the bunnies were making, adding that it was the ‘best job she ever had and she had two kids to feed.’ Anderson’s response was a typically honest yet ambivalent, ‘hmmmmm.’

The biggest laugh originated from Anderson’s wry punch-line following her comments on the song, Yankee Doodle Dandy, which she deemed, ‘better than most b-sides,’ though kind of ‘surreal.’ ‘If you can understand the words to that song’, she dead-panned, ‘you can understand anything that’s going on in the art-world today.’ Humour and social realism were two elements that would continue to be intermingled in her work into the present day. In these early videos, and snippets from interviews and performances, Anderson comes across as witty, intelligent, socially aware, experimental, quirky and more than a little bonkers at times, though it was evident, as hindsight is always 20-20, that she was simply doing whatever it took to get her point(s) across!

Interview
The first question interviewer Mark Esquier had for Anderson was in relation to her alter-ego/clone in terms of how she writes for that voice and whether doing so and acting the role out is a release for her.
Anderson: ‘It started as a kind of ‘voice of authority’ in 78 when I was the MC for the Nova Convention. It was a celebration of the bureau’s work.’ Keith Richards was scheduled to appear there, but he wasn’t going to show up, so they’d put a strip of paper on the doors saying ‘Keith Richards will not be appearing today.’ Nevertheless hoards of teenagers stood in the audience chanting, ‘Keith, Keith, Keith’ over and over. Patti Smith, Philip Glass and Susan Sontag were also appearing there. ‘William Burroughs came out in a pork pie hat, with a beat up old suitcase in his hand,’ which he slammed down. He just said ‘good evening,’ the way he did and everyone stopped screaming. ‘He talked about sex, drugs and alienation,’ and ‘all the punks said, ‘Grandpa!’ Anderson said she’d never met Burroughs before, but when he came up to her and said, ‘What’s your name?’ it suddenly occurred to her, ‘He’s hitting on me. He thinks I’m a boy!’ They ended up doing tours together and becoming friends. He ‘made her laugh and she ‘trusts that,’ she said, adding in regard to Burroughs’ public persona, that ‘he played the ‘expert’ character.’

The next question put to Anderson by Esquier began by confirming her status as ‘consummate story teller before enquiring ‘how important playing live to an audience’ is to her.

Ever one to rise to a challenge, Anderson countered with, ‘I love doing live stuff, especially if it’s part improvisation…it puts you on the spot and pulls you out of your patterns, something really helpful, especially in music and art. You can get into a niche and keep repeating your style.’ As an example of a mind-expanding experience, Anderson cited her encounter, and subsequent study and performances with a troupe of Mongolian ‘throat-singers’ whom she toured with. It seems that after they played in a castle near Portugal together, it was discovered that their Russian manager hadn’t made any plans for the troupe to travel back to their hotel so they started packing in order to trek several miles back to their accommodations. They weren’t like Americans who would say, ‘Where’s the van?’ said Anderson. They’re nomads, she stated, with an air of wonder.

An enthusiastic talker and relater of her experiences, she also went on to describe her time spent as a teacher of 1st grade (year 1 primary school) students at a school in New York’s Chinatown. Apparently, the students she was meant to be teaching were just over from China and the principal of the school had instructed Anderson not to ‘mention China.’ In true anarchic style, she arrived for the first day of her teaching stint armed with Chinese flags and maps. She also brought little mic stands for the students to perform in front of as one of her abiding philosophies is that ‘you never know who’s inside.’

Question number three found Esquier asking Anderson to talk about how the words to ‘O Superman’, her 1981 UK hit, which she performed in New York shortly after 9/11 now seem oddly prophetic, with their talk of ‘American planes.’ That line of questioning naturally led into her interviewer, wanting to know whether her ‘relationship with America has changed’ and if so, how.

Anderson’s answer indicated that the same conflicts exist in terms of the West, in regard to the technological world. But, she stressed, ‘As an artist, there’s less identification with country. I’m on an urban circuit of art and music...so my world is ‘more cities.’’ ‘You voted in an anti-war government years ago and it didn’t stop the war….It’s important to stop corporate forces….My own world has become overtly political because of that.’
Advocating another way to live…inventing stories…’I come from a country that is story-savvy. For example, George Bush came up with a story about an evil dictator and weapons of mass destruction. It’s not so much that it’s a true story, as that it’s a good story.’ Anderson offered the first draft of Melville’s classic novel, Moby Dick as an example of this thinking, a novel she knows well, as she based on of her multi-media shows on it. ‘You need an engine,’ she said, ‘so in goes an American Lear speaking Shakespearian English.…Every story needs an evil captain…So we artists in the U.S., we have one.’

These ideas lead Anderson to momentarily reflect, and then profess that she ‘preferred the ‘90’s, when she could think about freedom in a different way.’

In relation to her current show Homeland, she claimed that, ‘sentimental is not a term Americans use….After 9/11, ‘instant sentimentalism’ helped define the ‘security obsessed culture.’
Hidden Inside Mountains
Hidden inside Mountains (05 Japan/US) boasts some beautifully meditative footage reflecting on themes related to nature and mortality, shot from an artistically poetic perspective. As Anderson herself explained at the interval between screenings, the film was ‘made to be glimpsed’ rather than watched and was shown at the World Expo 2005, on the ‘largest screen ever.’ She added that this was the first time she’d ever sat down to watch the film all the way through, as it was meant to be ‘glanced at in passing.’

Words drift upon columns of fluttering cloth as leafy patterns play illusionary games of hide and seek with the viewer’s consciousness. An old woman silently sweeps, then vanishes. Japanese maples bow against the breeze, as music of poignant majesty suggests remembrance. Strange harmonies accompany floating text, ‘Some things are just pictures…scenes before your eyes...’ Light plays over swirling fabric and chimes tinkle as we move past a fir tree and a young girl watches and waits while images of branches glide across her pensive face. The sky darkens, stars appear, snow falls and many things are easily lost…Waves, a vacant throne, drums, as a man plays Anderson’s ‘tape-violin,’ and another man reads, or are the two men one and the same? This is the world of dreams, of ancestors…’When people ask next day how you slept,’ the unravelling words proclaim, ‘you say fine.’ Voices repeat the words over and over as a red light flashes on the window pane and levitating numbers count themselves off. ‘The path descends,’ the words read, as the plucking of strings mimics a heart-beat and text runs across the scene as if across the pages of an oversized book. ‘Dreams that last all night into the next day’ accompanies the reconstruction of broken things – a return to Anderson’s fascination with the ‘living backwards’ that Kierkegaard suggested makes sense of life. Yellowed sheets of paper waft through the air, like over-blown sentiments on faded love letters. ‘An angry god, who hid in the back of minds for years,’ the words say.

Anderson appears, playing her self styled violin before an enlarged projection of herself. ‘When my father died, it was like a whole library had burned down,’ the letters say, before blowing away, only to rearrange themselves elsewhere. A man walks backwards across a bridge as sheets of paper swirl around him; he turns, seemingly undecided as to which way he should proceed. The music is sensitive, pensive and, mournful. A church bell chimes. A young man erases chalked up numbers on a blackboard, only to make his own marks in the cleared off space – the circle of life repeating itself. ‘There is a moment before the tiger strikes,’ the words say, ‘when he hangs there motionless, forever innocent.’ Anderson plays, in silhouette in a smoke filled space.

Two old women lie sleeping under white blossoms, as behind them, freckled girl’s faces ponder. ‘I knew I had lost something, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I just told myself to keep going,’ the ever re-arranging words proclaim. As a woman lies down to sleep, her image is reflected in a mirror, ‘on the other side,’ as rhythms as sprightly as rainbows suggest sunshine and warmth. Red leaves fly and ‘the little smile I wore all day…’ fades as a family walks backwards amidst swirling white feathers. The music moans. ‘When the tears finally fall, they stream from my left eye, because I love you, and they fall from my right, because I cannot bear you.’ The ‘sleepless dolls’ rest their case.

The cast of this dream-like, twenty-five minute film are listed as Laurie Anderson and Antony Hegarty, the ‘heart-felt’ singer of the band, The Johnsons, and features vocals by both artists. The cast of the film, colour wise is rather painterly, though the pallet used emphasises muted blacks, soft whites and creams and vibrant red, like the leaves on a Japanese maple tree.

Hidden Inside Mountains seems a worthy representation of both Anderson’s artistic sensibilities in the present, as well as her 80’s ones of the past, as certain scenes are somewhat reflective of the iconography often found in videos of that era: smoke, fairy lights and other props juxtaposed with a couple of momentarily staged looking scenarios one of which seemed to be situated in a generic hospital theatre. However, as most of the film’s frames have been more pensively and imaginatively shot, perhaps certain allowances could be made for the film-makers perhaps, unconscious reflections on her earlier roots within their context. And, as Anderson stated, the film is not meant for watching, but for glimpsing. In that context, some of its dream-like sequences may leave lingering effects on the viewer’s own subconscious nightly rambles.

Q & A
The first question put to Anderson by a member of the audience was a rather angry one, poised by a native pensioner who seemed to have a definite axe to grind. ‘Who does the U.S. owe money to?’ he asked her angrily, making mention of all the ‘rich people, over there.’ His question was in reference to a rather glib, but surely well informed (at the time) scenario Anderson had described in the context of one of her 80’s clips regarding the U.S.’s National Debt back then, which was, apparently, being updated/enlarged upon automatically via a digital display in Times Square which was then, constantly in motion, as the debt mounted.

Anderson was her usual composed, relaxed self as she attempted to answer. ‘Once you try to assign a debt to a nationality, it’s difficult, because there are trails all over…she said calmly, referring to her firmly held belief that corporate power is responsible for much of the world’s imbalance and strife. She went on to state that in the present day, ‘46% of the U.S. government’s current budget goes to the military and the rest is to run the country.’

A woman seated in front of us came up with a question that diverted entirely from the first one, but also appeared to be, surreptitiously, related, in a surreal kind of way. It was about Anderson’s work, ‘Puppet Motel’, which the questioner not only loved, but also missed, lamenting the fact that it is not on DVD.
Anderson replied that she was ‘not good at curating, ‘her ‘own stuff,’ and that she was ‘not sure she was going to resurrect that one again.’

A man down front wanted to know about the line from Hidden Inside Mountains: ‘When my father died, it was like a whole library had burned down.’

This question led Anderson to talk about Antony Hegarty, her co-star in the film, whom she’d said, she’d met through Lou Reed five or six years ago. Apparently Antony was singing on the New York scene for years before Lou heard him, loved him and asked him to tour with him. She also added that she herself loves Antony’s way of expressing himself – heartfelt.

In relation to the Japanese Expo Hidden Inside Mountains was shown at, Anderson chuckled over its theme: nature and technology as she said it left lots of room for interpretation. She referred to the film as a number of ‘postcard sized fables,’ adding that she’d wanted to ‘work to scale, and with that in mind had written a thirty page proposal for a series of projects for the Expo. Six months later, she claimed she panicked when they got back to her and said, ‘We’d like to do your projects.’

However, her advice to artists was ‘Don’t wait for anyone to ask you to do anything. Think of what you’d like to do, then start doing it.’

Anderson smiled impishly as she told her interviewer how she’d written to hundreds of Arts Centres in Europe many years ago, saying ‘I’m doing a European Tour, ‘ (she wasn’t), asking whether they’d like her to stop in their town.’ Three people wrote back and said, ‘yes you can come, but we can’t pay you.’ She went and did those three shows.

The next question was whether the ‘public service announcements’ we’d seen were actually on TV, to which Anderson answered that she had ‘proposed announcements to her record company that had nothing to do with her music or her album.’ ‘I’ve been asked to do some more announcements’, she said, adding that she thinks, a lot of what passes through journalism is just irony – a kind of lame entertainment.’

Another fellow in the audience asked Anderson how she became NASA’s artist in residence – a good question, as they’ve never had one of those before or since!

Her dimples were in evidence as she said, ‘Someone called me, and I said, no, you’re not from NASA… It turned out they were! When they told me about the job, I said, ‘What does that mean?’ and they said, ‘What do you think it means? It was a good opportunity to invent a job! I’m trying to get it reinstated now, she joked, not because I want to do it, but because I think it’s a good idea to have different voices besides journalists.’
‘How did it feel to perform ‘O Superman’ in New York just after 9/11? another audience member asked. Anderson paused a moment before answering. ‘It was the first time I’d performed that song since the 80’s, she said. It was quite eerie…some of the lines about planes, etc…Technology will not save you.’

‘To be singing about something in the absolute present was something. Your mind’s usually jumping ahead or rehashing. When something’s happening, you’re not sure whether what you’re doing is either good or bad. As an artist, that moment before something’s categorised is where I want to be.’

‘It was a unique moment and also, a tender one before sentimentality set in and New Yorkers were cast as brave and patriotic victims. When the flag went up and then revenge set in, we were all going, “This is not right.” There was a door of opportunity but it slammed and we went in another direction. When you’re punched, which way are you going to take it?’

In answer to another fellow who wanted Anderson to talk about her Home of the Brave show versus Homeland, she had this to say: ‘Even though I’m a multi-media artist, having images can be a bit redundant….The obligatory video. Why?... Then someone shows me something and its like, “Wow!” But that’s what’s great about art. I say I’m going to keep things small and then I’ve made some huge multi-media show. Now I’m into mental images, rather than visual ones.’

Someone down front wanted to know about Anderson’s writing process and asked her whether she ‘hears words in her head when she writes or sees images.’ Her response was duplicitous.
‘I try to use a more dynamic method now, more of a conversation structure. I’m tired of the blogging culture – me, me, me…what I did this afternoon. I don’t really want to know you that well…I’m more into a situation where we can deal with opposing things – opposites…Duets – conversation and empathy. When we communicate, it takes two, it’s not a monologue.

In typically flitting mode, Anderson went on to tell a humorous story about how best to communicate and reason with a baby who’s just starting to talk, based on a theory called, the ‘child whisperer,’ saying that you have to remember that you’re ‘talking to a Neanderthal.’ ‘Babies,’ she said, ‘can’t understand why you’re talking about the future, when they want a cookie now... In adult conversation, how many times do you repeat yourself? Conversation’s about listening to other people as well.’

Reveiw of Laurie Anderson's Homeland at the Barbican

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