For a few years, MovieBarcode has been compressing each frame of entire films into pixel-wide, chronological bars, creating a unique color palette barcode for each movie. Color is used in film to set moods, evoke particular feelings, or to intensify plot and characters. While examining the barcodes of familiar movies, particular colors may stand out, or remind you of specific scenes or characters that you’re drawn to. MovieBarcodes allow a film lover an opportunity to view movies from a macro, bird’s eye view. It’s as close as you can get to seeing the entirety of a movie all in one glance. The person behind MovieBarcode wishes to remain anonymous, but told wired.co.uk that movies are chosen based on runtime and the quality of the outcome and that the biggest challenge is “[s]taying within the concept and not getting carried away by technical possibilities, some of which are planned to be published in a not too distant, not too busy future.” If you’re curious if a particular film has been compressed, or you just want to peruse titles, you can find an index of all the films that have been compressed here. If you like these, be sure to check out Redbubble, where some of the MovieBarcode prints are available for purchase.
Often in our daily lives, something needs to be taken out of it’s normal context to be seen with renewed appreciation. In Arnaud Lajeunie‘s recent photoseries Water meets colour, colour meets water, the Paris-based photographer explores new waves of seeing the constant ebb and flow of ocean waves by making them more visible, through the use of biodegradable, sugar-based dyes. Arnaud’s interventions tint the surging water with a plethora of colors, which are captured using an extremely fast shutter speed, which produces photos of violent, colorful takes of traditional landscape photography. Taken out of a normal context, one can see more clearly the natural beauty and fury. Says Arnaud, “Here, colour is seen as a raw material, as are the waves and the rocks. Colour adds density and thickness to transparent water, thus enhancing the flux fixation process.”
As writer Eugenia Lapteva notes in an essay on the series, Colours of Absence, “As the colours bleed into the sea, the texture of the water thickens and the motion of the waves is (re)defined, revealing its hidden course and complex networks. The crashing waves, which are carefully contained within the camera frame, pull the viewer into a vortex of frozen shapes and novel configurations that are otherwise indiscernible to the human eye.”
In his own words, the photographer explains, “I rely on the camera as a device with technical features that can give tangible shapes to ever-moving fluxes, in this case the waves. The high shutter speed transcends the human reflex of persistence of vision: it reveals existing shapes that the ‘mortal eye’ cannot perceive on its own.” (via mymodernmet)
If you’ve ever loosed a balloon into the sky, by accident or on purpose, you have probably had that uncanny feeling that you’ve done something simple but irreversible; no matter how high you jump, the balloon will forever be out of your grasp. Now multiply that sensation by 1.5 million; twenty-eight years ago, in a misguided attempt to break the record for most launched balloons in history, the United Way of Cleveland released one and a half million balloons into the sky for a fundraiser known as Balloonfest ’86. As the weather grew grim, the hasty event administrators freed the eager helium-filled balls of color into the sky, and it was all caught on film by the photographer Thom Sheridan.
The images are pretty remarkable; when shot at close range, the balloons look to be raining from above, coloring the skyline and bridges like jimmies over an ice cream sundae. Pink, red, blue, and yellow litter the frame like large-scale confetti. But viewed from further away, the balloons form something resembling an angry plague of locusts that ominously mushroom above the city. They puff up and away, and their colors blur, forming a bloody wound across the sky.
Given the historical context, these photographs are even more theatrical, grim and tragic. Two people died as a result of the event, and a horse was badly spooked and injured. The winds that day caused the balloons to flood together, forming a substantial cloud that obscured the view of aircrafts; helicopters were unable to rescue the victims of a boating accident. In one terrible anecdote, a coast guard member explained searching for the heads of the drowning people and being totally unable to differentiate them from balloons. The entire city remained littered for weeks.
This strange, tragic story reads like a bizarre little fable where excess, pride and even the most well-intentioned aspirations breed disaster and ruin. These photographs, these astounding relics of a city’s hopes and traumas, say it all. (via Gizmodo and Viral Forest)
The installations of Katharina Grosse are disorienting in scale, color, and material. Her use of color is wild bordering on violent. Brightly colored paint is sprayed over any surface the artist pleases, from the floor to walls and windows. Huge heaps of painted dirt fill the gallery space transforming the space from an architectural to a geological one. The dirt, paint, and various objects seem to intentionally undermine the white box that houses the installation. Her installations raucously question the very space they inhabit by allowing visitors experience it in a transformative way.
Some of Ann Veronica Janssens‘ work is clearly and singularly about color. For a number of her installations, Janssens’ uses a color film that transforms the light shining through it. She then fills the space with an artificial fog which seems to glow with color. The fog acts as a vehicle to carry the light and spread it into the air of the space; a way to experience color and only color. There is no depth, texture, or line but just color and its saturation. The installations create a dreamy atmosphere when any medium between color and the eye seems to disappear.
Alberto Seveso’s high speed photographs of ink mixing with water are hypnotic and fascinating. Each shot depicts pushes of color twisting and bending with an emotive cadence, lulling itself into an ephemeral sculpture, detailed with sharp visceral attention.
Although such imagery is not new, per se, this specific collection feels intrinsically magnetic due to the captive nature of submerged color naturally bonding or relating before diluting. It’s more about documenting the ease of abstraction than pushing a forced abstract agenda.
Luminaria by Architects of Air is a touring inflatable structure. The ‘building’ has made stops internationally since 1992. Visitors to the Luminaria remove their shoes and enter an air lock. Once through the airlock visitors are free to roam the structure. The Luminaria is built of inflated PVC. Sunlight from outside shines through the various colors of PVC creating an otherworldly glow. The highly saturated colors coupled with the gently curving walls and floor give the Luminaria a subtle biological nature. Interestingly one visitor describes the structure as ” Somewhere between a womb and a cathedral.”
The work of artist Pard Morrison seems to reference both the analog and the digital at once. His hard edged fields of color are reminiscent of image pixels or two dimensional mock ups of some sort. Morrison often contrasts these blocks of color with a natural landscape barely touched by technology. His work addresses how experience is increasingly mediated by technology – how a three-dimensional landscape is increasingly lived in two dimensions. While these pixels and blocks build many images we experience everyday, they also can hide and obfuscate them. [via]