IF is the middle word of LIFE

Death is close, very very close...and life is inherently and mysteriously out of our grasps.

"The Word" by Tony Hoagland

Down near the bottom
of the crossed-out list
of things you have to do today,

between "green thread"
and "broccoli" you find
that you have penciled "sunlight."

Resting on the page, the word
is as beautiful, it touches you
as if you had a friend

and sunlight were a present
he had sent you from some place distant
as this morning -- to cheer you up,

and to remind you that,
among your duties, pleasure
is a thing,

that also needs accomplishing
Do you remember?
that time and light are kinds

of love, and love
is no less practical
than a coffee grinder

or a safe spare tire?
Tomorrow you may be utterly
without a clue

but today you get a telegram,
from the heart in exile
proclaiming that the kingdom

still exists,
the king and queen alive,
still speaking to their children,

- to any one among them
who can find the time,
to sit out in the sun and listen.

Time & other things...

Night. Thoughts of time. Who decided on that pause and how long it should be, one second to the other. Why sixty seconds, why sixty minutes, why twenty-four hours? Because of the sun, because of the moon? Why anger, why grudge, why time sends its hands onto us with such aggression. And then all the puppets on the floor dancing to its rhythm trying to keep up with money & appointments. In the final earth, the redemption will be for the one who has no recollection, interest or concern for time. Its these puppets I am scared of most. These humans... the ones who live for time and money, those idiots who say "time is money" and those strangers I thought I knew. How way off the mark I am... how far out on the periphery I stand. Looking... its time to get away again.

And then I remembered the high points of the evening, Ji To Ke and his yellow-insulation tape on his temples, making him more oriental than he already is, the disgusting job of telling him about the disgusting job, that last analysis of Reverse Khan, Nimhans employees analysing that cigarette butt for hints and clues and that ongoing dream of Jigaanthar and me speaking in viscera, all gibberish, like the heart's air, like the Dara Okat monologues, that field of lilies and those 24 frames per hour of a mysterious face at sunset time...

I Think I Miss You

I Think I Miss You (Music video) from Hinterland Films on Vimeo.

Official video for the Anxieteam song "I think I miss you". Shot by Saul Tiff, directed and conceptualised by Isaac Niemand & Premjit Ramachandran in Benaras, India.

Thoughts from a lunar night

Unfolding like sheets of paper, Inspector Jigaanthar K and me head out into the night to meet Mr. Crasta. Cardigans blasting on the way, our heads finding kinetic energy shaping the thoughts from the moon's incessant delivery of light from behind the clouds, across the sky and into the black of that monsoon night, the snail that attached itself to a bill, how it tore off making the tear a snail-like shape, that moment when I said "I don't know who is driving this car", our flurry of thoughts in the treelined eighty feet road, less than hundredwords probably title for a label, Axl sending out positive energy, his love supreme. And love also from one mysterious girl living hundreds of miles away, shaping the mood for the moon and drawing her circles in my head.

A coffee with DT in a red room full of lillies, David Lynch-style, a room trapped in an unimaginable time, beyond reason or faith, off the counters of human perception.

Looking at Omkareshwar sideways.

A Document of Some Things

Mandu captured, heart in full transition (translation), projecting these images on a stone wall, while I sit with Roopmati in Jahaz Mahal. Those vivid black elephants, Vinod, Pardeep, the boys of mandu, slow-motion shots of them dancing in ecstacy, of possible videos for Bonobo's Black Sands, running, dancing in those corridors of Dhariya Khan's tomb and Haathi Mahal, black and brown, one sun, one moon, brush boys living on the earth, cool spot boy Manish, his pointed boots, the look of local love for Japanese tourists, those two muslims, Yusuf Ali and Muranuddin, strange disposition of men who like watching porn together, their ongoing quest to kidnap me to Kaaliboudi and Khwaja ji's Dargah there, of the words I couldn't somehow trust, my instinct projecting snake-like forms on Maharaja's corridors, photographer from Ellora with his dhandhe ka machine, his life in Ellora (possible film about these instant photographers waiting in the terraces of these gorgeous places trying to make a living printing moments of every memory to take home and slip inside a book or use as a bookmark, maybe pin to the wall of those middle-class homes, his stoner eyes looking, a slight friendship, then foodtime and those Relax-point men, poha oh, Joyaho's roha, Mr. White, one hand in a bandage, greeting and being PR on the floor, the baby-face flashed onto the trading head, duality in focus, that drive from Mandu to Omkareshwar, Pappu bhai talking of stories and times in strange chipmunk voice, the soundtrack overriding the images of rolling meadows, tree-haircuts everywhere...and then onto Omkareshwar, Kailash Kher's "Babam bam" re-imagined by local DJ, everyone dancing, that machine that tells you the weight via video projection of strange man, black & white video, giving them a piece of his prediction. Lost in dictation, India is where the heart finds its way through the chaos, the dirt, the earth. India, Je'Taime (supported by the music of Black Sands)

And then I looked at the time, it was 11.11... publish post, D song.

Back in the plains, Ahmedabad and Baroda, the spirit of Doshi in my heart, his smile, his art of selflessness, of thoughts of travelling with him to Bhuj, shooting in the Rann of Kutch, the spirit of Smrutivan, then onto Baroda, screening of new films at the Faculty of Fine Arts, the soft light of Maneesha in her studio, those high ceilings, Doshi still smiling through the skylights, Vasu's wonderful sincerity, no superficiality, those sweet artschool girls and their avant-garde thoughts... and today I leave for Mandu waiting to hold my breath next to history shining light on the monsoon's way... time stand still, the time is now, the place is here. :)

Astral Projection

Today Daniel spoke of his meeting with Dr. Tripathi, "the scientist of enlightenment", of living on wheat and water for years, of Swami Devi, his Guru and astral projection.

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Astral projection (or astral travel) is an interpretation of any form of out-of-body experience (OBE) that assumes the existence of an "astral body" separate from the physical body and capable of travelling outside it. Astral projection or travel denotes the astral body leaving the physical body to travel in the astral plane.

The idea of astral travel is rooted in common worldwide religious accounts of the afterlife in which the consciousness' or soul's journey or "ascent" is described in such terms as "an...out-of body experience, wherein the spiritual traveller leaves the physical body and travels in his/her subtle body (or dreambody or astral body) into ‘higher’ realms." It is therefore associated with near death experiences and is also frequently reported as spontaneously experienced in association with sleep and dreams, illness, surgical operations, drug experiences, sleep paralysis and forms of meditation.

It is also sometimes attempted for its own sake, or may be believed to be necessary to, or the result of, some forms of spiritual practice. It may involve "travel to higher realms" called astral planes but is commonly used to describe any sensation of being "out of the body"[8] in the everyday world, even seeing one's body from outside or above. It may be reported in the form of an apparitional experience, a supposed encounter with a doppelgänger, some living person also seen somewhere else at the same time.

Through the 1960s and 70s, surveys reported percentages ranging from 8% to as many as 50% (in certain groups) of respondents who state they had such an experience. The subjective nature of the experience permits explanations that do not rely on the existence of an "astral" body and plane. There is little beyond anecdotal evidence to support the idea that people can actually "leave the body".

The expression "astral projection" came to be used in two different ways. For the Golden Dawn and some Theosophists it retained the classical and medieval philosophers' meaning of journeying to other worlds, heavens, hells, the astrological spheres and other imaginal landscapes, but outside these circles the term was increasingly applied to non-physical travel around the physical world rather than the astral. Though this usage continues to be widespread, the "etheric travel" label coined by later Theosophists such as Leadbetter and Bailey[citation needed] is more appropriate to such scenarios.
Commonly in the astral projection experience, the experients describe themselves as being in a domain which often has no parallel to any physical setting, although they say they can visit different times and/or physical settings. Environments may be populated or unpopulated, artificial, natural or completely abstract and from beatific to horrific. A common belief is that one may access a compendium of mystical knowledge called the Akashic records. In many of these accounts, the experiencer correlates the astral world with the world of dreams. They report seeing dreamers enact dream scenarios on the astral plane, unaware of the wider environment around them. Some also state that "falling" dreams are brought about by projection. The astral environment is often theoretically divided into levels or planes. There are many different views concerning the overall structure of the astral planes in various traditions. These planes may include heavens and hells and other after-death spheres, transcendent environments or other less-easily characterized states.

In contrast to astral projection, etheric projection is described as the ability to move about in the material world in an etheric body which is usually, though not always, invisible to people who are presently "in their bodies." Robert Monroe describes this type of projection as a projection to "Locale I" or the "Here-Now", and describes it as containing people and places that he feels actually exist in the material world. Robert Bruce refers to a similar area as the "Real Time Zone" (RTZ) and describes it as the nonphysical, dimension-level closest to the physical.

According to Max Heindel, the etheric "double" serves as a medium between the astral and physical realms. In his system, the ether, also called prana, is the "vital force" that empowers the physical forms in order for that change to take place. From his descriptions it can be inferred that when one views the physical during an out-of-body experience, one is not technically "in" the astral realm at all.[34]

The subtle vehicle remains connected to the physical body during the separation by a so-called “silver cord”, said to be that mentioned in Ecclesiastes 12:6.

Stephen LaBerge suggested in his 1985 book Lucid Dreaming that all such "out-of-body experiences" may represent partially lucid dreams or "misinterpreted dream experiences", in which the sleeper does not fully recognize the situation. "In the dark forest, one may experience a tree as a tiger, but it is still in fact only a tree."

Kundalini Rising

Kundalini is a powerful energy that is within each one of us and some believe is the foundation of life itself, the Divine Mother Goddess, the life force of the universe that is present in all things. The ancient Yogis of India created Yoga to awaken Her power and devoted there entire lives to the cultivation and understanding of Kundalini. It has also been a part of many other ancient cultures and religions throughout history. Until recently only the privileged and spiritually adept had the knowledge of how to awaken the Kundalini or knew of the secrets of its power. But as we progress in this age of awakening, awareness and knowledge of this evolutionary energy is beginning to emerge and people all over the world are experiencing Kundalini Awakening. It is known by a variety of names in many different cultures but the Sages of India called it The Kundalini. In Sanskrit this literally means 'the curl of the hair' or 'coiled', it is usually envisaged as a sleeping serpent coiled and ready to be awakened and is sometimes referred to as 'Serpent Power'. It is also related to the Mother Goddess, Mother Nature or the Sacred Femine.

Once Kundalini is awakened an evolution of the mind, body and spirit occurs. Leading to a higher state of consciousness and spiritual awareness. With the emergence in the West of practices such as Reiki, Meditation and Yoga over the last century many more people have awakened this dormant power that is kept hidden within. When Kundalini rises it is essentially connecting the male and female energies and connecting the individual with the Divine consciousness although there are conflicting views on the process of awakening and it's purpose so it is important to understand that there are still many unanswered questions. It is a very individual and subjective experience dependant on one's karma and life experience.

Kundalini is located at the base of the spine between the Root and Sacral Chakras and lays dormant in most people, it is usually developed and awakened through spiritual practice but can awaken spontaneously in some people. Some say it is the life force energy that resides in all things, also know as prana or chi, others that it is the all powerful evolutionary energy that is hidden from us and must be cultivated to be awakened.

Strange Meeting: Daniel

Morning. Big bowl of dahi at PAPU. Israeli-looking indian girl talking of her life, and beside her the quiet, calm, stillness of Daniel, man from Israel. India-fanatic. Been in India five years, drawn to Shiva in places like Omkareshwar and Benaras. Musician. Thinker. Evening. Comes over. Play him the music of Indra Okat, he loves it. And then suddenly I ask him if he has had a kundalini experience. Somehow his mannerisms seemed to have a serpent-sorta bent. Yes. How how strange. He described the whole experience. Insane... of his head spinning like the hood of snake, of him holding that imaginary axis that controls the uncoiling, the way he read people's thoughts like subtitles, knowing exactly what they thought, of that mad season in Omkareshwar being drawn to Shiva power, connecting with Him, of Hathayoga, vipaasana and how funny Goenka was, of how he stared at ants and flies for eleven hours a day, of losing his mind in isolation in the beaches of Puri, of his Polish friend who also had a Kundalini awakening. I just sat and heard him talk...

Sabka Malik Ek: Monologue 1

When I met Sai Baba in the Spring of 2010, I had no idea who he was, what his story was or where he came from.. I wasn't equipped with a fancy camera, lights, mics…

When we met, there was an instant karmic connection. Like we were destined to meet. I had to document it. There and then. And to stay true to the material, the film is presented as simply as it was shot. I have tried to map a man's soul, his essence, a set of lessons from a man's life...

That spring in the Himalayas, I listened to Sai Baba talk, he made kawa (chai) and dinner for me. I was introduced to a life of acceptance, of happiness, of love and devotion, of sincerity… and in that seeing and being present, the I-carapace disappeared.

In Sai Baba I found a friend. For life.

From Kerala with love...

The Art of Toddy-Tapping from Hinterland Films on Vimeo.

Digital Split (pt. 1)

Research: Corpora Callosa

Benway

Of all good things, sun-yogi's, kundalini, the tobacco-death ceremony in the Andamans, living on that island next to the forbidden North Sentinel island, of tripping on acid in Gokharna and swimming with dolphins, of all things herbal, of all things organic, of the heart, of the soul, of the spirit. The Benway to life, englishman, organic farmer, dashal village, himachal pradesh, the heart of the hinterland rests in his eyes.

Faultline

A Time And A Place

Kerala Chapter

The Floating Man, , Wayanad, Kerala (2009)

The Floating Man from Hinterland Films on Vimeo.

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Ghosts, Wayanad, Kerala (2009)

Ghosts from Hinterland Films on Vimeo.

Sabka Malik Ek

Psy-Baba now swooping down like a bird of prey. Video footage ensemble cast, silver-line, floating cloud. Sabka Malik Ek. See to the eye, catch to the mind. In his words. Later shot horses by the Beas grazing. Like being back in the lute ages. Synchronised serendipity, electric clock ticking backwards, a man out of time. Then, spring, then subodh, angry one-eyed baba, subodh's quiet friend ajith, the eeriness surrounding the dhuni at the temple, angry baba yelling, then subodh breaking into song "ye bhagwan ka maunder" and before that some light music to ease the atmosphere, "ud jaayega hans akela" and "papiha". Strange exposition, hand curling to venus-shape around neck, uncoiled or coiled serpent I don't know, I could only guess that he has a mind full of porcupines. And those strange scenes, three of us sitting one behind the other facing angry baba in silence, the 50-ruppee quarrel on scoring enough hash for one joint. The quiet chaos of the unsettled mind breaks through the unflinching leash of the winded soul.

And then it hit me…

Lamo

I can have moments crushed in turmeric paste, I can have the concept of infinity, the kinetic sumatra painting strange shapes in the sky, each one a different colour, a different tone, an ascent to the seventh.

You Can't Have It All - Barbara Ras

But you can have the fig tree and its fat leaves like clown hands gloved with green. You can have the touch of a single eleven year-old finger on your cheek, waking you at one a.m. to say the hamster is back. You can have the purr of the cat and the soulful look of the black dog, the look that says, If I could I would bite every sorrow until it fled, and when it is August, you can have it August and abundantly so. You can have love, though often it will be mysterious, like the white foam that bubbles up at the top of the bean pot over the red kidneys until you realize foam's twin is blood.

You can have the skin at the center between a man's legs, so solid, so doll-like. You can have the life of the mind, glowing occasionally in priestly vestments, never admitting pettiness, never stooping to bribe the sullen guard who'll tell you all roads narrow at the border. You can speak a foreign language, sometimes, and it can mean something. You can visit the marker on the grave where your father wept openly. You can't bring back the dead, but you can have the words forgive and forget hold hands as if they meant to spend a lifetime together. And you can be grateful for makeup, the way it kisses your face, half spice, half amnesia, grateful for Mozart, his many notes racing one another towards joy, for towels sucking up the drops on your clean skin, and for deeper thirsts, for passion fruit, for saliva. You can have the dream, the dream of Egypt, the horses of Egypt and you riding in the hot sand. You can have your grandfather sitting on the side of your bed, at least for a while, you can have clouds and letters, the leaping of distances, and Indian food with yellow sauce like sunrise.

You can't count on grace to pick you out of a crowd but here is your friend to teach you how to high jump, how to throw yourself over the bar, backwards, until you learn about love, about sweet surrender, and here are periwinkles, buses that kneel, farms in the mind as real as Africa. And when adulthood fails you, you can still summon the memory of the black swan on the pond of your childhood, the rye bread with peanut butter and bananas your grandmother gave you while the rest of the family slept. There is the voice you can still summon at will, like your mother's, it will always whisper, you can't have it all,
but there is this.

1600, 050710, Hinterland

Pretty Ms. Magpie posed for me on film today. File under "Wildlife Analysis".

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The Yellow-billed Blue Magpie or Gold-billed Magpie (Urocissa flavirostris) is a passerine bird in the crow and jay family,
Corvidae. It forms a superspecies with the Taiwan Blue Magpie and the Red-billed Blue Magpie. The species ranges from Pakistan to Burma with a disjunct population in Vietnam.

Blue upperparts with very long, graduated, black-and-white tipped tail. Separated from Red-billed by yellow-bill, and white on head, restricted to crescent on nape. Juvenile has olive-yellow bell. Broadleaved and coniferous forests. Resident; breeds 1800-3300m, winters down to 1000m.

Earth-realisation Pt. 1

Butterflies, apples, rain.
Apples with raindrops, pine's stretching through the passing clouds,
Those mountains, looking

I think there is emerging the need to document the nature in Hinterland using the music of Boards of Canada. Today morning I was shooting the apples in the rain as they get ready for the harvest. They look beautiful, half-red, half-yellow like that duality in man.

Strange Meeting: Mouli Marur

He spoke of locational micography, about moving the sound, about aurality as a means to typography, about the Chicago art scene, the need for an artists village in Naggar, a collaborative design programme that is art and sustainable at once. His name is Mouli Marur, Dean, Design Faculty, Art Institute Chicago which apparently houses the second largest collection of Renoir originals after Louvre. Strange meeting at Chai shop, Naggar. Chance, je taime. The visceral path is illuminated, Sumatra is home. x

Architecture

The architecture of an aunt
Made the child dream of cupolas,
Domes, other smoothly rounded shapes.
Geometries troubled his sleep.

The architecture of young women
Mildly obsessed the young man:
Its globosity, firmness, texture,
Lace cobwebs for adornment and support.

Miles from his aunt, the old child
Watched domes and cupolas defaced
In a hundred countries, as time passed.

A thousand kilometres of lace defiled,
And much gleaming and perfect architecture
Flaming in the fields with no visible support.

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Dom Moraes
Thanks M.

Moti, Kathy & Lamo: Friends from Zenpark

What a wonderful day. Moments captured out of time in the realm of that superhuman Kundalini power. Five senses, five elements, plugged in, uncoiled - open environment. I watched "The Bear" with a little 6-year old boy called Lamo. His father is Iranian and his mother is half-Polish/half-German. Shiva-power all the way, what a jam. Friends straightaway like some karmic connection mercurial wheel. Later I met Lamo's father and mother. What a family. Part of the absolute, just being part of that pure consciousness, that earth, that timeless personal denouement juxtaposed with the sky, the earth, the stars and the sea. Free spirits part of no cliche, part of no society, just wanderers tasting the earth, feeling the air, living in Gokharna sometimes, sometimes in Hrishikesh, sometimes in Vashisht. Anywhere is home as long as nature is in control. Lamo is taught by his parents, a real living experience. A wonderful fresh look at the way 24 hours is spent. Then we ate at the local Himachali wedding some wonderful dal, rajma, rice and khadi. Over dinner learnt that Lamo is vegan, nature boy, offspring of his matrabhoomi, of his uber-conscious parents, his internal spirit riding the crest of the waves of what them wannabe city-kids call cool.

The Birth of QuroBear™

...and another chapter begins. Dara Okat in and as the curious QuroBear™ from Hinterland.

The sun, the sea, the sky, the clouds

Its the closedness that causes that spot of plastic in the sun, that military headway before the meadow, that acquisition-driven set of ideals, that connectedness with the external. The bardo will come and get you and sweep you from the concrete floor into the grass, barefoot, silken like the shine of the web in the summer sun...

Kheer Ganga & the presence of God

I stepped into the spring, looked up at the moon and smiled. I am in the hands of God, in the womb of life. Kheer Ganga, je taime.

Ashokan's letter

A Day of strange serendipitous events (Pt. 3): "Why?"

What a day? Serendipity on Mt. Hinterland with the introduction and felicitation of the young Nitin Gopi, film-fanatic, English-humour friendly, young 21-year old version of my good friend JP. Serendipity # 1, so Shanks him and me are sitting in my room, Sai Baba working the chillum to perfection and Shanks says he plays with Hypnotribe and Nitin says he has been to one of their gigs and Shanks says he was the flutist, violinist and Nitin goes, "Fuck" and remembers how he loved Shanks the most in the band. A cauldron of kinpa. Suddenly the images meet, the trajectories connect and the heart loses a beat. Later over dinner, he asks what movies I have done and I mention Kunigunda and suddenly Serendipity #2 kicks in. He says he has seen it and describes the scenes in the film. Of how Mark walks towards the camera in jump-cuts, and suddenly he remembered the point of contact from KP's facebook page and from there mine and from mine and introduction to me through pixels and for him also an introduction to Kiarostami from my favourite films section... woah, I couldn't believe it. Shocking even more for him, young boy out in the Himalayas looking for the point of least resistance and voila, torrential proverbial rain pouring. Two more minor offshoots from the evening, one when I said I didnt like Kill Bill and Shanks and Nitin go "Why?" in unison and in similar high-pitched frequencies, and two those four Sony batteries looking up at Shanks from the same angle, those close-call frequencies disrupting the monotony of forward thinkers. A time for silence and concentration. Listen and watch closely, there are many intervals God uses to come into contact with humanity and their ridiculous ways. Sensational, really...but I wonder. Why?

A Day of strange serendipitous events (Pt. 2)

A very strange day. Strange in a good way. I decided to head out to Naggar. Home. Took Sumatra out after a few spins with a peculiar black herb extract. Connected, ethereally, root chakra full power. What a ride. Then I decided to take the pedestrian path to my house in the hills. Took the wrong one, got completely lost in the wilderness, forest everywhere, tall tall trees, that wonderful smell. I wasn't scared, I have heard the bears sometime come down to the valley. Maybe I should get the XY costume out and in working condition, full nature, herbal power. While I was wandering and terribly lost, panting like my heart was going to burst out, woah, and then it happened. I think Guru Vasisht sent someone to help me find my way back home. I bumped into this very bizarre american violinist, someone I met in Benaras in Feb on that first SR-visit. I didn't really connect with her so I wasn't really excited to see her, but she was there to help me find my way back home. Well, how weird? Utterly and totally like Lynchian bizarre, no? Then I sat in my veranda. To enjoy this you really got to earn it and that's what I like about it. You then realise how valuable that space is, in silent oneness with trees, above everything, looking, just looking, standing still. Not thinking. Its good to earn it. Body and soul, totally and completely in union with the motherpower. Electricity, cosmic electro-hyrdrologically brilliant...

Sumatra came home. :)

Home, Hinterland

Nutshell

Just read a review of Doshi, probably the best so far. Feels great to read that and remember the times Bijoy and me had going to all those places and just being together observing those wonderful landscapes without perspective. And now I am living that dream slowly, that dream of being with nature, immersed in it. Its all coming together well, slow but really nicely. I have a really good feeling about this move and this house is really like from some fairytale book, appletrees outside my window, apricot trees, fig trees, surrounded on three sides by the mighty pines and in front opening out to the valley, looking from above, and onto the Beas river and onwards to the himalayan panorama. And all those bird sounds all talkiing in that visceral language, so many wonderful different frequencies then finally merging into the frequencies of my tibetan bowl resonating through the wood in the veranda and in the house...
In so many words that's where I'm at. :)

...and to quote Osho Ji

Human consciousness has not grown for centuries. Only once in a while someone blossoms - but in millions of people, the blossoming of one person is not a rule, it is an exception. And because that person is alone, the crowd cannot tolerate him. His existence becomes kind of humiliation; his very presence feels insulting because he opens your eyes, makes you aware of your potential and your future. And it hurts your ego that you have done nothing to grow, to be more conscious, to be more loving, more ecstatic, more creative, more silent - to create a beautiful world around you. You have not contributed to the world; your existence has not been a blessing here but a curse. You introduce into the world your anger, your violence, your jealousy, your competitiveness, your lust for power. You make the world a battlefield; you are bloodthirsty, and you make others bloodthirsty. You deprive humanity of its humanness. You help man to fall below humanity, even sometimes below animals.

So many wonderful things, little things, big things, people, moments, silence, space... all in one day. Vashishta, je taime.

Image (Circa 2001)

It begins tomorrow. But, It could end tomorrow. It could end now. Right now. Like gone.

The Last Calligraphers (May, 2010)

Medusa at the Optometrist

Who is X, who is Y?

W# (Full film)

W#: Victor Wooten's language of music. Divided into 4 parts. Please see it in full screen, queue it up and watch them one after the other in HD.

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W# (1/4) from Hinterland Films on Vimeo.

W#

Victor Wooten is an American solo bassist, composer and author.

Born to Dorothy and Pete Wooten, Victor is the youngest of the five Wooten Brothers, the other four being Regi, Roy, Rudy Wooten and Joseph Wooten, all of whom are highly regarded musicians. At age two, brother Regi taught Victor to play bass, and by the age of five, Victor was playing in front of crowds with his brothers in their family band, The Wooten Brothers Band.

Wooten is most often seen playing Fodera basses, of which he has a signature model. His most famous Fodera, a 1983 Monarch Deluxe which he refers to as "number 1", sports a Kahler Tremolo System model 2400 bridge. Fodera's "Yin Yang" basses (designed/created for Wooten) incorporate the Yin Yang symbol - which Wooten often uses in various media - as a main focal point of the top's design and construction. It is often mistakenly thought that the Yin Yang symbol is painted onto the bass, but in reality, the symbol is created from two pieces of naturally finished wood (Ebony and Holly, for example), seamlessly fitted together to create the Yin-Yang pattern.

Though Wooten's basses receive much attention, his most frequent and consistent response when asked by his fans about his equipment (or equipment in general) is that "the instrument doesn't make the music ... you do". He'll often go on to state that the most important features to look for in a bass are comfort and playability. During a question and answer session at a 1998 concert, Wooten stated that "If you take a newborn baby and put them on the instrument, they're going to get sounds out of it that I can't get out of it, so we're all the best." This philosophy seems closely related to Wooten's approach to music in general, which is that music is a language. According to Wooten, while speaking or listening, one doesn't focus on the mouth as it is forming words; similarly, when a musician is playing or performing the focus shouldn't be on the instrument.

As well as playing electric bass (both fretted and fretless) and the double bass, Victor also played the cello in high school. He still plays cello occasionally with the Flecktones. This is the instrument to which he attributes his musical training.

A Bear Film

a bear film from kris anka on Vimeo.

Sumatra, 300410

Hemu said, "Thinking of you, the way your hair looks... trying to remember the fabric of your hands."
Heru said, "102hands of you and me at total."