I'M TRYING TO SAY SOMETHING!

Oops.

Hi… again… So much for my quick turnaround! I did finish Gilbey’s It Used to be Witches, I did start Nguyen Tan Hoang’s A View From the Bottom (although I am still plodding along with that and instead devoured Burroughs’ Queer and making my way quite assertively through Martyr! By Kavch Akbar) and all in all the project remains at the forefront of my ambitions.

This is the third time I’ve come to write this blog post – certainly this time shall be the last, and whilst I’m three weeks later than originally accounted for I think this comes to be the first learning curve of my project. Yes, it is important to have self-imposed deadlines and to exercise self-discipline. It is also true however, to not make such brash haste with a project that requires sensitivity and consideration. In other words, there’s no grand prize or anything to be gained by me annihilating my reading list in a week. Quite literally NOBODY will care!

In the space of these last weeks the structure and stimulus seem to be changing shape. Still passionate about Jarman and the concept of an essay revolving around ‘the garden’ I’ve found a book at my grandparents’ house about how to tend to your garden depending on the month. The book is called monthly guide to your GARDENING and is edited by Fred Streeter and it has now become the soil for this essay. I’m now fascinated by the idea of the essay being a yearlong process strung together by each month of the garden. This makes the whole project a behemoth endeavour.

(Image One: Front cover of monthly guide to your GARDENING, edited by Fred Streeter featuring a robin amongst the text in the top half of of the page with an image in the lower half of the cover of a woman tending to white roses. Image Two: A page from the book detailing how to best tend to your garden during the month of May with diagrams.)

All the while I’m contemplating what it is I’m really trying to say? Am I trying to understand Jarman’s work? Not really. Am I trying to understand why Jarman worked? Sure. Maybe I’m trying to understand my own queerness. I found Gibley’s book hard to read at times – not because of its language or that it conveyed any complex theory but because it’s welding together of film study and autobiography felt flimsy. The films he was so clearly passionate were listed so extensively it was hard at times to stay grounded in what the original film being discussed actually was. But it did provide good food for thought.

I note this because now, sat here with a book stained both by time, damp and truthfully god knows what, because I’m drawn to exploring my own stakes in all this. Since my grandads passing and making the experimental short You Didn’t Know My Dad, I’ve been keen to explore what it means to be known. In other words, the relationships we have with people and how we conduct ourselves dependant on those relationships. I talk differently to my boss than I do my friend. I behave differently with one friend than I do with another friend. I joke differently with my friends than I do with my nan. It’s not original but it interests me! At conception it was going to be a simple film about maintaining his garden since his passing but unfortunately, I don’t want to be a part time gardener! And then I was going to travel to different areas that were important in his life (Dunbar in Scotland, Malaya, London, etc), but I work full time and spend my money like I’m Gatsby despite being on minimum wage.  

My grandad, to the best of my knowledge, was not a queer man. So, he’s not the best link to an essay on Jarman! Can you see my predicament? WHAT AM I TRYING TO SAY?

I’m still fascinated by queer films being inherently political be it through content or discourse. A ‘good’ LGBTQ+ film means so many different things to so many different people. To some the stories should show queer joy, to others it should be reflective of reality, to others show the filth and extremities. To some Heartstopper and Love, Simon are the apex and to others Femme and Female Trouble take top prize. I think what situates this conversation now is perhaps intent. What are you intending to say? What is the artist intending to say?

I find myself increasingly frustrated with my own political apathy. I have staunch views but seldom take any active role in demonstrating them. Never before have I felt so under threat by my own country for my views, nor have I felt so threatened by the prospect of war. What the fuck am I going to do if I’m called up to serve? And do I really want to serve this country anyway? And what’s the healthy alternative? Where do you run to now? It all seems a touch fucked. And again, I say this with purpose. I think that’s how my narrative can fit into this essay – I’m actively learning from Jarman’s work. An active player as opposed to some voice of god analysing it. I feel so angry and so sullen it inspires laziness. I would like to grow politically alongside this film.

I took Pink Pansy from the anti nazi/fascist group The White Rose. I’d like to maybe try and live up to that a bit more.

Moving forward I’m not going to be so adamant about deadlines or delivering outlines of thoughts or ruminations. I shall post when it feels right. There is a lot of work to do, and it will be done when I’m ready. I shall continue to read. I want to create some sort of concept driven mood board/reel. I want to watch a lot more films.

I will get back to you when I have something more to say.

Until then,

Byeeeeeee!