By Rebecca

Within the first few minutes of the video, I found it ironic how she was speaking about subconscious imaging. I am currently working on an independent study with Professor Sheril Antonio about the unconscious, thin-slicing of images, and the collective unconscious in relation to film. How specific images in film may produce specific stereotypes or archetypes through thin-slicing from the spectators. The collective unconscious imagination, as she states, as the potential for the revolution. Beyond the serendipitous irony that this video is for this week’s assignment as I’m researching two different projects on the image through the arts, in this case performing arts, and its ability to unconsciously create change, I find it crucial to understand how images are used, manipulated, and viewed.

I believe policy and action are of course the only way for change to occur, but the difference between de facto and de juro chance, I believe comes from the individual. Or even the individual’s own viewpoints in order for policy to change. I have always believed that the arts is the tool in which we can open people’s eyes. The notion of the collective unconscious imagination for the revolution reminds me of Boal’s Theatre of the Oppressed. Boal believed that the theatre was the rehearsal for the revolution. With Brazil at the time limiting speech and artistic practice, Boal created ways for his radical message to be seen and heard, one including invisible theatre. She speaks of the right to the image, who can view it, who can be a part of it, who can claim it, who can define it. When the father is speaking of his family shaking in fear from the ISIS military, the haunting beauty of his shadow telling the story is both powerful and necessary. I believe his face is not shown for safety purposes, but I find this just as powerful to understand the image, who has the right to view it or be in it. The absence of the image is just as important as the image itself.

Again, the notion of the image of death as a tool is disturbing. When we break it down, are we gawking at the suffering of the dead and their loved one’s pain? War in itself is horrific, and in my own pacifist ideology, am now looking at how I share my anti-war mentality. Is sharing images of the travesty of war disrespectful, despite my good-intention? I have been investigating last semester, and this semester, how we view victims and survivors. Are we speaking for them without speaking with them? This video, and the notion of the right to the image, is incredibly powerful, especially when utilizing non-fiction. For my creative practice as a director, I’m constantly investigating how we tell stories, especially if those stories are no longer stories but real life.

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