Thursday, October 29, 2009

Distribuição de tarefas

Eis então, estando assinalado no texto as frases, as fotografias que têm de ser tiradas por cada um:

1ª Uma colina, uma camioneta a subi-la, simples.

2ª Dona de casa dentro de uma cozinha, cansada. a descascar vegetais ou assim.

3ª Montagem, colagem de vários.

4ª A tal entrega.

5ª LIRA, em todo o seu esplendôr.

6ª Pronto, óbvio, montanhas de livros e páginas, mesa desarranjada. tentar não apanhar pormenores fora da área da mesa.

7ªLogotipo: cesto de fruta ou vegetais, um emblema. knock yourself out.

8ª Lord emille a olhar fixadamente para o peito da Lira.

9ª Discussão entre pai e filha.

10ª Dificíl, in rafael we trust.

11ª Tipo a flipar, agarrado ao cabelo, uma coisa do género.

12ª Fotografia tirada de cima a captar o olhar estupefacto e assustado dela a ver os céus.

13ª Um senhor fora da sua consciência, enfim, drogado...

14ªWe still trust you.

15ª A própria da cena, na altura do encontro.

16ª Pronto, isso mesmo.

17ª Tipo num estado robótico que não deixa de cumprir as suas funções.

18ª Os dois, ela assustada no seu regaço, com a cabeça nos seus ombros aliás.

19ª Mãe a descascar cebolas, nada mais. Não incluir a filha. Deixa a peruca pá maria lisboa.

20ª Go all out on this one!

Pedro: 1,2 e 19

Rafael: 3,10, 14 e 20

Zé: 7

Florentino: sabes o que fazer.

Guilherme: 6 e as legendas parece-me. Eras tu a fazê-las certo?

João e Fred: o resto.

Pronto, o projecto agora é vosso, façam-no personalizado e criamos uma cena do fajujuss. Que é o que se precisa.

Rendezvous ás 9e30 no msn.

Até lá.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Síntese do texto.

Um texto que começa a falar de um simplório que conduzia uma camioneta todos os dias até ao topo de uma colina. Era pouco o dinheiro que lhe era remunerado mas o suficiente para alimentar a luz da sua vida, a sua filha. Uma mulher que já morreu há muito. Fala de uma série de coisas que não têm espaço numa síntese.

Depois fala de uma homem com uma sede imensa pelo conhecimento, um super computador em constante funcionamento. O simplório levava mantimentos a este eremita, até os acompanhava ocasionalmente de uns vegetais da sua própria reserva.

São introduzidos os nomes: o Elbert e o Lord Emille que é o eremita.

Desde uma sugestão do eremita que a filha Lira do simplório tem aulas no topo da colina.

Céptico de início mas rapidamente cedeu devido ás facilidades de transportar a sua filha ás aulas que eram mais perto que a escola vizinha.

Não quer que a sua filha siga nas suas pegadas.

O Lord Emille tinha também um certo interesse amoroso na rapariga, para além da vontade de passar o seu fantástico e inesgotável conhecimento a outrém.

A expectativa de um motim nos ceús era pouca, os elementos todos em erupção simbiótica.

Veio no entanto, numa hora de sorna algures, uma de diversão noutro sítio, horas de trabalho, meditatação, vadiagem, desbobinação, amor, desespero, separar ou ir de ponto a a ponto b.

A lira tinha vindo a chegar em casa mais tarde do que o habitual e isso estava agora a ser discutido de forma contida pelo pai que supunha não ser necessário mais do que uns breves minutos passada a hora em que poderia ser eventualmente ofercido pelo Lord um chá, um agradável lanche.

O ceú tornou-se um sombreado de roxo escuro, apocalíptico e bizarro ainda que o mistério e o medo que induzissem.

Ideia do Trabalho

Pegar no texto e tirar 20 imagens mais fortes, fotografá-las e legendá-las com as próprias frases.

Ler o texto e fazer surgir as imagens nos momentos das suas respectivas frases.

Eventualmente meter-se uma música de fundo (a pensada: a wild and distant shore da banda sonora D'"O Piano" de Michael Nyman)

Possívelmente fazer-se a narração do texto em voz-off em vez de ao vivo.

No fim apresentar uma reflexão do que foi lido, e explicar a ideia.

Talvez fazer uns textos de apresentação das três personagens.

Fazer uma síntese em português para se ler depois do texto, para explicar.

Texto escolhido.

Elbert, Lord Emille and Lira. www.labugiadiolmo.blogspot.com
Arriving in the end of time there is surely no escape from the past, i mean, what else is there? For the simpleton that drove his truck every single day of the week up and down the hill(1), getting up at hours unacceptable to some, the latter being the tean-beat generation that in it's renewed wisdom and fresh approach towards the infinite possibilities of the opening of the world. He was unhappy but relatively pleased with the simple sums he could bring home to feed the single daughter and light of his life.

A wife long gone, succumbed into the spirit of the treacherous kitchen enslaver(2), work that monetarily amounts to nothing but feeds the dying certainty that tradition and loving dedication is permeable to happiness.The more complex the human subjects himself to being or in turn is drawn into or dreadfully conditioned from the start the more it becomes easy for the mind to deliver itself to ambition, yearning or yet another element that when truly considered is improbable to satisfy. The cycle is a parasite, a disease unto those who meditate beyond religious or spiritual beliefs, quests for meaning. Eggs, bread, company and the occasional predicament of where my patch ends and yours begins(3) should be the civilization in the vision of thinkers and the likes of these. Discussion, debate, revolving around themes and insisting on the ideals of one another, based on adequate citations. All is background, feedback, the right environment, every once in a while there comes along the man who escapes his empty, from this standing point, life and manages to succeed in whatever area he sets his most tireless mind to. But it is this my point, areas and sections of cultivation have no place in the utopia of my eyes. Of course I am not stupid to the point of overlooking matters that can only benefit from persistence through empirical, theoretical and any other -cal that has discovered preventions to sickness and aids to development. Why must things have a cost, if they ever do?

Must progress towards the safeguard of life lead ultimately to death, skipping a whole lot of shenanigans and comically referred matters that are all but this. I got carried away, making an objective out of vagueness and pointless generalizing.The unsaciable thirst for intellectual supremacy, a super computer fully equipped with all weighed against the oblivion of those who know not beyond their ride up the hill... To me, there is no competition. He carried a sack of potatoes from the market and the occasional personal assortment of vegetables from his own reserve(4), a way to repay the kindness of the wealthy eremit who rarely escaped the top of the hill and his villa of this demand left unperceived by the driver, Elbert was his name and the luck of falling into the graces of said bat was something he never overlooked and thanked humbly on the also rare contact with Lord Emille. Although to this man's ever thankful eyes this was a one in a lifetime break the truth is he was payed miserably, barely covered the gas to fill up his truck, but all he needed was that unconditional smile(5) and reassuring words uttered by his emerald eyed Lira. Lira was, since an eager suggestion from a a bewildered Emille, tutored up on the hill amongst the valleys of books and rainfalls of papers(6) signed by her own personal, hardly concealed admirer. Skeptical at first Elbert had allowed Lira to follow a life which he himself found fit for another sort, he had come to this conclusion on realizing the facilities in transportation(the local school was of a distance worrying to any parent, blindly trusting as he may be) and the possibility of spending more time with his "lovely Lira," a name never worn out by use.

It had befallen upon him from very early in her life that he was to be outsmarted and would let no one get in the way of this fact, specially himself. "I have no interest in making my remaining family into a prosperous society for the delivery of goods"(7) he had concluded on an exclusive episode of consideration. So it was that Lira was dropped off to 4 sufficient hours of learning, walking back down to her home keen on telling her father of yet another story too involvingfor him to understand, he had sacrificed selflessly simple conversation but in overwhelming happiness observed the talent his offspring had to never make him feel dumb or in need of something more. Emille, partly intrigued by the sponge that was this girls brain and mostly delighted by the firmness of her young bosom(8), him not being that old himself, gave more and more of his person every time, reaching the advertised desire of passing the thirst onto the kindred spirit. There was little expectation of a riot in the skies, in the elements, in all that was grand enough to determine not one but a monstruosity of destinies calmly minding their own business on a yet to erupt earth. Nevertheless it came, at an hour of slumber somewhere, an hour of leisure elsewhere, hours of work, meditation, tramping, ranting, loving, desperation, breaking apart or driving from point a to point b, the last being the occupation of the fewest possible generation ladder that were at present moment discussing in a restrained manner Lira's recent tendency to arrive home later than expected(9), beyond even a tolerance supposed by Elbert to consist of a normal offer of Emille's, such as a cup of tea or a display of his own patch of vegetables.

The sky turned a shade of dark purple(10), apocalyptic and bizarre yet the mystery it induced and the fear it caused was accompanied to the eye of the vegetable and family oriented beholder as beautiful. To the full intellect and culture of the objective hilltop monk all sorts of theories, prophecies, damnations spun to mind(11), and to this the inevitable cold sweats adjoined propulsing the genuine physical feeling into the unfaithful task of terrifying the receiver of it's sensations. Lira, still in an early stage towards enlightenment saw only what was to displayed(12): unlikely colors crying over each other and prohibiting the slightest feeling of hope that such phenomenon was similar to that of a sunset of impossible description, this was no green ray, the end was nigh. Had she been in control of the wheel the instinct would have been to step hard into full throttle and foolishly let one area of the sky behind her and the rest above and ahead, the same. Elbert dazzled still by a real image that hadn't even been seen in similarity fictionalized or illustrated into documents out of his interest and area of expertise, kept on committing to his delivery that would not be kept for once due to a pretty picture.

By the time he was arriving at the gates of the presently somber mannor deaf from the sycophantic panting of Lira and the meanwhile downfall of Emille's sanity he was long gone into an inexplicable trance of organic LSD proportions(13). It was then that the patches of cosmic flora dropped violently into the planet's core(14), such was the massiveness of these brute colisions that a wandering look would lose track of theses blocks of "worldacide", an implosion was to gradually take place and most of the earth's inhabitants would be deprived of such spectacle. Lira began to manically shout and run into the house where she found Emille under a table counting the strips of wood under an oak desk(15), victim to his many cerebral rages, emphatic punishments laid from dusk till dawn until hand and wooden surface became one in harsh matter, exhaustive studies and ramblings. There lay locks of hair beside him on the floor covering a number of piled up books opened in specific pages(16), on sighting this obsessive dedication to a logic, rational explanation to everything and all she made her way back to the arms of her father.

Elbert, though in a state of ultra-self-conscience through incomprehension was unloading the sack of potatoes into the service door(17), left open by a few dedicated yet reasonable servants when confronted with the definite precognition of a sudden final installment to their suddenly realized short lives. Embraced by his lovely Lira a smile brought to his face the eventuality of return but it was not to be. He held her hand and passed through the gate, this time on foot, cut through the green and found a privileged spot from where to absently witness with the prized company of his daughter the fall of civilization, the one that crept into comfort only to go back in a false evolution. Under the shade of a cypress tree he gazed(18) into what seemed almost an expectation, Lira, frightened by so many things she had not the maturity or the foolishness to decipher delivered in part her gaze into her fathers. She set her head on his shoulder, crying silently and assimilating all that had been left to do, remembering her mother and that one specific time when she was taught to peel an onion(19)under the supervision of her entertained mother, laughing and weeping, mixing these ingredients leaving but a breathless taste for being, simply taking in what was to be offered. Elbert had no thoughts, just a detachment from all that he had known prior to this event, to say the least. The chunks of matter seemed to pace themselves slower through an invisible atmosphere and recollect themselves before the plunge into their individual contribution to the world's demise. The ground began to shake, this did not change anything, father and daughter trembling back and forth from each other, the purple sky fell(20). A last cry over the surface of what they had held dear escaped Lira embracing her father in fear and a warm response marked what ceased forever to be.