Landscape Suicide (James Benning, 1987)

Landscape Suicide (dir. James Benning, 1987)

Landscape Suicide (James Benning, 1987)

24 March 2024

Film: LANDSCAPE SUICIDE (dir. James Benning, 1987, USA)

Forum: Doc Films   Format: 16mm

Observations: I'm grateful that the programmers undertook not just to identify some of the best and least screened titles by this American filmmaking giant, but to present the entire series on 16mm. Excellent turn-out (50+) and great reception for the first, most-famous title: an exploration of the locations of two notorious murders, narrated by actors re-enacting the police interrogations. The print was a bit battle-scarred but still looked quite stable.

Recht und Film

1.

Das ist der grünste Film aller Zeiten: James Bennings befremdliche Studie zum Mord. Schade, dass man als Autofahrer nicht gleichzeitig Film gucken kann. Auf den langen Fahrten nach Passau war es immerhin möglich, späte Streichquartette von Beethoven, die Ciaconne von Bach oder Skriabins späte Sonaten zu hören, auch John Cages Klavierstücke gingen gut, also ingesamt ungemütliche Stücke gingen gut während der Fahrt, schließlich man konnte ja auch deswegen nicht weg, weil man ohnehin auf dem Weg war.

Während so einer Fahrt (ab Nürnberg eigentlich nur noch durch das Grüne) konnte man sich schon gut auf die Musik konzentrieren, das war in gewisser Hinsicht mehr als nicht ablenkend, man konnte gut spröde Fremdheit entnehmen. Aber mit Film, das gebe ich zu, ginge das nicht. Bennings Film müsste man aber eigentlich auch nicht auf einer Autofahrt nach Passau sehen, er ist ja selbst schon wie eine Autofahrt nach Passau.

2.

In diesem Film ist immer noch nicht alles grün, viel weiß kommt zum Beispiel auch vor, in Schneeszenen. Aber grüner als dieser Film ist trotzdem kein anderer Film, nicht dass ich wüßte. Grün ist die erste Farbe der Dunkelheit und der Nacht. Noch bevor man nachts das Blaue erkennt, kann man schon Schwarz und Grün unterscheiden. Die schönsten Mondnächte sind grün, nicht blau.

In den Szenen, die auch Portraits sind, scheint in den Gesichtern ein Grün durch, wie das manchmal bei Portraits der Renaissance oder des Manierismus der Fall ist, wenn die damals übliche grüne Grundierung durchscheint. Bilde ich es mir ein, ist mein Monitor nicht kalibriert? Sehe ich diesen Film, werde ich den Grünstich nicht los. Ich weiß nicht, ob es gut ist, das zu sagen, aber Bennings Film kommt der Art und Weise, wie ich die Welt wahrnehme, entgegen, also auf jeden Fall näher, wie nah, wäre eine Frage, vor allem weil der Film dabei nichts von der Befremdung aufgibt.

Der Film zeigt sogar viel von dem, warum ich so gerne auf der Welt bin. So reise ich am liebsten, von diesen Reisen bleibt immer am meisten hängen, wenn ich an irgendwelchen Kreuzungen stehe, der Verkehr vorbeirauscht und mir noch niemand und nichts mitgeteilt hat, wie man an diesem Ort wichtige Orte von unwichtigen Orten unterscheidet. Eine aufdringliche Indifferenz bei maximaler Unterscheidbarkeit, drängende Unterscheidungen bei maximaler Indiferenz: so eine 'Kreuzung' liefert Intensität, aus der heraus sich sagen lässt: schön ist es, Zeuge zu sein. Man kann freilich nicht übersehen, dass es bei Benning um Mord geht und gerne sage ich, dass es mir nicht um Mord geht.

Underneath the autism smile is suicidal depression

I don't even understand why I love you, why I desire you, why I am so happy with you, why I think about you at all times. Talk about you with a smile that escapes from my mouth and my heart bursts with happiness every time I see you, touch you and hear you. Inside is a fireworks show and everything stops every time I see you. This love breaks my heart and belong to you so much and always will.

Although our lives follow such different roads, I will never forget you.

I feel sorry for myself for having put my first love in someone who could not be with me. My heart is always the one that chooses and that has led me to do things that I will surely regret later.

you don’t know the pain you’ve caused me, i pay the price every day

~pics are not mine~

Landscape Suicide (James Benning, 1987)  

An oil painting I made for my mom.

Originally, I knew I wanted to paint a landscape with a sunset. I was going to paint a depiction of a photo I took on the day I said goodbye to my friend. After two days of waiting in the hospital, and hoping for things to get better, they declared her time of death. There was nothing else for all of us, her friends and family to do, so we left. My parents and I were going to go back to our hotel room, but the thought of dwelling in that room was too much for me to handle. So we drove to the beach and watched the sunset, wrote her name in the sand, and had dinner at an Edgar Allan Poe themed restaurant. The night before I sobbed in my mom’s arms like I never had. My mother’s arms have become an uncomfortable and confusing place to seek shelter. But I needed to be held so badly in that moment, so I let her hold me. Before I arrived in town, I had some piece of hope left to hold onto, but after the first day in the hospital I knew what was coming. I’ve never experienced the degree of emotional pain that I did that night in my bed. I wept for what my life would become after all of it.

My life has become a lot of things, and most days I carry the grief so heavily. Most nights I can’t stop yearning to hug my friend and hear her voice. I decided I wanted to paint the scene of the beach outside of a class on my own time without input and observation. It’s something I want to fully feel and react to with my art. I didn’t really get the chance to process it all. The sunset was the only beautiful thing in life that day, and for many of the days that have since followed. I felt somewhat sorrowful as it set, but really utter shock. I felt disconnected from everything in my world. It’s a feeling I can’t put into words, and I would never want someone to feel what I did that evening.

Instead I painted a scene from the lakehouse my mom is fixing up. My mom will always be my first love and my final heartbreak. Our relationship is complicated, she is a complicated person. I get really anxious thinking about her and her mental health. Since my friend’s death, I’ve found myself fixating on my loved ones dying—my friends, my family, my pets, myself. I often have nightmares about losing my friend again, or those people in the same way. My mother’s life revolves around her work, and as a result she neglects a lot of her life. It makes me depressed. After she bought this house though, she has spent every weekend and day off there that she can.

Usually when I call her, she vents about work. I can feel the distress seeping out of the phone. Lately though, she talks about her projects she’s working at down there, and sends me pictures of her new yard decorations and the progress in the house. She talks about how still it is down there. It’s just a house, but I think it’s changing her. Maybe even saving her.

When I started painting I didn’t expect to be “good”. Over time I discovered I have a natural ability to paint. The time I spent in my studio space this semester brought me so much peace. I started feeling sad that I haven’t taken the time to create art. I miss writing and singing, and figured out I miss painting too.

So I made this peace as a love letter to my mom. I also made it for myself without really knowing the meaning until after. It’s worth it to take the time to appreciate a sunset, or to create art just for the sake of creating it. These acts allow me to have something beautiful on the days I can’t find beauty or life in anything else. It’s hard for me to express love to her in other ways. Sometimes I am filled with hate and resentment. I hope when I look at this painting it can remind me of how important it is to invest in the parts of my life who’s only purpose is to bring me joy, respite, and an outlet for expression. Those moments make me feel as though my life is worth living.

They Call It Attempted Suicide // Jack Gilbert

My brother's girlfriend was not prepared for how much blood splashed out. He got home in time, but was angry about the mess she had made of his room. I stood behind, watching them turn into something manageable. Thinking how frightening it must have been before things had names. We say peony and make a flower out of that slow writhing. Deal with the horror of recurrence by calling it a million years. The death everywhere is no trouble once you see it as nature, landscape, or botany.

Injustice: Please Help Me, 2022, Acrylic on canvas panel, Sean Riker

Art Against the Odds - Wisconsin Prison Art Exhibit at the Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design, January 19th through March 11th, 2023

Photos by Charles Reeza

laura lee dying in a moment of hope versus jackie dying in a moment of hopelessness

Suicide Forest Village - Takashi Shimizu - 2021 - Japan