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yesvac · 5 years

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back 2 san jose island

no meme here is my lesbian play for anyone interested let me know what u think : ) also when i paste onto tumblr it may fuck up the formatting but i promise i formatted it correctly in docs.

warning: lol (lots of lesbians) also this is zombie apocalypse

Back to San Jose Island

SETTING

Post-nuclear apocalypse life in Texas, USA: now “Tejas.” The sun beats down heavily and the dust settles in every corner. There are walls around each human settlement made from wood, tires, and junk metal. Every character is dirty and rough around the edges.

CHARACTERS

ZOEY: A small and fiery young adult with a habitual tendency to pills and other drugs. When she isn’t high, she’s confrontational, witty, sarcastic, and good with her hands. To make money, she crafts weapons. Her manner is usually humorous, even in dangerous situations.

ALEX: An apocalypse assassin with a mysterious and unreadable disposition. She is ambitious, impersonal, and unemotional. She rarely jokes or displays any personal thoughts or emotions, and kills without mercy. She is on the hunt for the cure to the zombie virus plaguing her time.

WILLIE: Zoey’s best friend, and drug dealer. During the day, he runs an odds-and-ends shop in his village, but he sells drugs under the table to an assortment of customers including Zoey. His disposition is hunched and generally nervous. He is too afraid to arm himself, even if he has the ability to. He rarely leaves the walls of his town. He wears denim and layers of flannel.

SCENE ONE

Downtown in a post-apocalyptic village by the name of SAN MARCOS. It’s near-sunset, almost dark, and the decent folk have their children and themselves inside. In the apocalypse, lawlessness reins; as nighttime falls, we hear music from bars get louder, and the daytime businesses close up. ZOEY enters through the front gate, armed with a postapocalypse-urban leather jacket and several knives; she’s not from here. As she walks towards the downtown area with the shops and bars, she hears a bang from inside a business, and a crash.

ZOEY

Wha- HEY!

As a gunshot explodes, ZOEY ducks down and covers her head with her arms. She looks terrified, and then angry.

Willie, I swear to fuck if you’re shooting at me, I’m gonna be really mad.

She rolls her eyes, and then sneaks from her crouching position to open the front door of the business. It unlocks with a click, and we see WILLIE and ALEX.

ALEX, strong, muscular, and survivor-esque, is holding a pistol with her right hand, pointed directly at ZOEY’s face. In her left, she has WILLIE in a stronghold with a serrated machete pressed to his throat. WILLIE, a coward, looks confused and terrified.

ZOEY

Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, alright? I’m chill. So is Willie. So why do you have my friend in a headlock?

ALEX’s face is cold and hard. She looks at ZOEY, assessing her.

ALEX

Not for any reason you’d have to worry about. So I suggest you turn around and leave.

ZOEY

No can do, my friend. Your name is…? Or is that another thing I’m not allowed to know?

ZOEY cocks her head to the side. She’s ballsy. ALEX isn’t impressed.

ALEX

I could kill you with one shot. It’d be clean and quick.

WILLIE whimpers in fear. ALEX tightens her hold on him.

ZOEY

Then do it. What’s stopping you?

ALEX narrows her eyes.

ALEX

What’s stopping me... is that’s what you want. I’m not wasting a bullet to fund your suicide.

ZOEY

I’m offended! Why, even turned on!

ALEX’s expression goes from controlled to confused and rigid. She obviously was not expecting that. She attempts to hide her embarrassment.

ALEX

empathetic

Please, just leave. It’ll make it easier for everyone.

then, firm

I’m serious.

ZOEY

I’m not leaving. But the first thing you can do is let Willie go. He’s not a threat. When we were six, he cried because a butterfly landed on his nose. Just let him go.

ALEX thinks for a moment, and then loosens her hold on WILLIE. He sputters, dropping to the floor and scrambling away from ALEX, towards ZOEY. ALEX’s other hand goes to her gun, which she continues to point between ZOEY’s eyes.

ALEX

Fine. Whatever. But I’m not leaving here until I get the information I need. And I have no reservations about killing either of you to get what I want.

ZOEY

Okay, we get it, you’re a ruthless murderer. What is it that you need so you can go the fuck away?

ALEX

Your friend here. He sells goods.

ZOEY smirks. WILLIE is looking at his feet, still sitting on the floor, barely together.

ZOEY

I’m aware. He’s a damn good dealer. Got the best prices in town.

ALEX

I get it. He sells drugs under the table. It’s pretty obvious. I don’t care about that. But the suppliers for drugs are the same guys who make what I need.

ZOEY

And what is that, exactly?

ALEX

You wouldn’t understand.

The two women are slowly becoming more confrontational. ZOEY, a bold and fiery survivor, is becoming more fearless, even with the barrel of ALEX’s gun pressed to her forehead. She howls out in sarcastic laughter when ALEX says this.

ZOEY

Why? Because I’m a scavenger and you’re some type of big shot? What do you do for a living, miss? Paid-by-the-hour Debby Downer? Professional asshole?

ALEX holsters her gun, sighing, and rolling her eyes, obviously frustrated with the situation.

ALEX

It’s a scientific development not revealed to the public. It’s not something most could understand. Even me.

WILLIE

shakily

I told you, I don’t know where it is, or what it is for that matter.

ALEX

That doesn’t help me at all. Just help me and we can be through with this. Nobody has to get hurt.

WILLIE

stuttering

I can tell you my supplier’s name. But if I do you can’t tell him it’s me -- if I loose this avenue of work-- I could--

ALEX

I decide that, kid, not you. Tell me the name.

WILLIE

His name-- his name is Dustin Bigg. Goes by Dusty. He has bigger connections than I even know. He’s not at this compound. It’s about a 3 hour drive south of here. In a compound called Wholesale, on San Jose Island.

ALEX thinks for a moment, nods in WILLIE’s direction, and turns to ZOEY.

ALEX

Don’t follow me.

She walks out, the shop bell ringing as the door closes behind her. WILLIE breathes a sigh of relief.

ZOEY

What the fuck was that about?

WILLIE

I’m not sure, really. Not sure why she came to me, anyway. But when she first got here, she was yammering about something about a cure.

ZOEY

A cure? Really? She’s one of those nutjobs?

WILLIE

I guess so. Fuck. I really hope she doesn’t kill my supplier. If I was cut off I’d… I’d…

WILLIE is clearly very stressed. He’s a bit less anxious as when ALEX was in his store, but he still runs his hands through his hair, and his face is soaked in sweat.

ZOEY

Listen, Willie. Did you get her name?

WILLIE

Why does it matter? Why’d you come here anyway?

ZOEY

I was hoping you could, y’know, set me up.

WILLIE looks off into the distance for a moment, in thought.

WILLIE

I don’t feel very good about this.

ZOEY

What?

WILLIE

Well… you know...

ZOEY

I don’t.

WILLIE

Your problem.

ZOEY

With increasing anger

I don’t have a problem, Willie. I just saved your life and now you don’t want to sell me drugs? What about selling more to support your family, eh?

WILLIE

I know, Zoey. Settle down. C’mon.

WILLIE is scared of ZOEY. It makes sense - she is very confrontational, and not afraid of anything. WILLIE’s afraid of everything. He ducks behind the front counter and emerges with a box of powders in different colors.

ZOEY

Three, please, of these. And one of those. Thanks.

ZOEY hands him money, and he stows it away. ZOEY puts the drugs into a pocket in her bag.

ZOEY

I think I’m gonna go after her. Did you catch her name?

WILLIE

Are you crazy? She almost killed us!

ZOEY

No, she didn’t. She pointed a gun at me and put a knife against your throat. She didn’t have an intent to kill that entire time. It was hilarious.

WILLIE

under his breath

You’re so strange.

ZOEY

A name, Willie?

WILLIE

I think I caught it when she was looking through her belongings in her bag. I think her name is Alex.

ZOEY

Alex.

ZOEY nods at WILLIE, smiles, and heads out of the shop. The bell dings behind her. WILLIE sighs, and slumps against his counter in exhaustion.

As soon as ZOEY leaves, she spots a car parked nearby. The windows are open and playing jazz. It’s dark outside, and the sky is clear. ALEX sits on her car hood, smoking a cigarette and looking up at the stars. ZOEY approaches the car slowly.

ZOEY

Boo!

ALEX doesn’t flinch.

ALEX

Hi. (beat) I think I told you not to follow me?

ZOEY

Yeah, but how could I resist? You, just sitting here, smoking a pack of Marlboros. It’s like all my teenage lesbian dreams at once.

Another moment of embarrassed awkwardness. ALEX doesn’t know how to respond to ZOEY’s flirting - but it doesn’t bother ZOEY.

Can I sit with you?

ALEX

No.

ZOEY

Okay.

ZOEY sits down on the concrete nearby ALEX’s car, and pulls out her own thing to smoke - a marijuana joint. She pulls out a black lighter and lights up, taking a breath in and holding it before blowing it out towards the sky. ALEX watches her smoke.

ALEX

Why are you still here?

ZOEY

I don’t know, Alex.

ALEX’s eyebrows furrow.

ALEX

How did you-

ZOEY

It doesn’t matter. Do you want to hit this?

ALEX looks confused, but nods, and gestures of ZOEY to climb onto the car hood with her. They sit next to each other, and ZOEY hands ALEX the joint to smoke. ALEX coughs a bit; ZOEY smiles.

ALEX

I know your name too, you know. Zoey.

ZOEY

I’m flattered.

ALEX

I needed to know how to manipulate Willie. You were just on a list of possible ins.

ZOEY

Not so flattered anymore. Hey, listen, why is this thing-- why is it so important to you?

ALEX gets a look on her face like she’s fixated on something in the distance.

ALEX

It’s not just important to me, Zoey. It’s important for all of us. For the whole world.

ZOEY’s eyes narrow.

ZOEY

What, you’re gonna save the world, or something?

ALEX

It’s not that simple - easier said than done, as always. But that’s the goal.

ZOEY

Holier-than-thou bullshit.

ALEX

Excuse me?

ZOEY

There’s always people who say they’re so close to finding the cure. That there’s a group, or a compound, or a state out there with a vaccination. A medical procedure that’s going to help. Some sort of herbal concoction of ancient medicine that grants immunity. Some far-off procedure to make the dead once again living. A modern medicine that will make walkers not walk anymore. But they’re all bullshit.

The two girls are quiet for a moment. ZOEY continues to smoke.

ALEX

That’s a generalization. (beat) Don’t you want to have hope for the future?

ZOEY

Sure. Doesn’t everyone? But I’m not going to put my faith into every medical miracle I hear about.

ALEX

Suit yourself. I want to-- no, need to be a part of something that is bigger than myself. I need to help.

ZOEY

And helping is pressing a knife to my friend’s throat to get him to tell you the name of his superiors?

ALEX

Is that what this is about? Geez, I barely even roughed him up.

ZOEY

What this is about is: I want to know why you have so much faith in finding a cure. Are you just naive and stupid, or are the people you work for- are they the real deal?

ALEX

First off. I don’t work for anyone. I’m solo. Keeps things simpler. And the trail I’m following -- I think -- could be a lead to curing undeath.

ZOEY

I want to join you.

ALEX

No.

ZOEY

Come on. You didn’t even think about it.

ALEX

I have been thinking about it ever since you entered Willie’s shop. It’s clear that you’re itching to do something, to latch onto anything. I knew you were going to ask me. I was waiting for you.

ZOEY

Don’t give yourself too much credit. I’m not exactly subtle. (beat) Why not?

ALEX

You’d be a liability. I like working alone. I’m not good with people. You’re probably not properly trained. You could die. You could turn against me and kill me in my sleep. There’s a lot of reasons why.

ZOEY

But I bet you want to.

ALEX’s lip quivers. She looks away.

Right? There’s no other reason why you would have waited for me. Just to tell me off? I don’t think so. To give me another chance to talk to you. To convince you.

ALEX

Do you have family?

ZOEY

No.

ALEX

Okay. Let’s go.

ZOEY breaks out in a smile, one that ALEX finds indecent. ALEX throws her lit cigarette onto the pavement and gets into her car, turning it on. ZOEY celebrates her victory with a grin and a personal congratulatory motion before getting into the passengers seat. The car backs out and begins to drive out of the gates of the small town and into the open roads.

SCENE TWO

ALEX’s car. ALEX has been driving for a while, and kills the motor by turning her keys. She then turns to face ZOEY, which, to her surprise, has fallen asleep in the passenger’s seat.

ALEX

Quietly, to herself

Shit. Should I wake her up?

ALEX reaches over tentatively to touch ZOEY’s arm, and ZOEY, in her sleep, lets out a snore. ALEX laughs and smiles to herself, shaking her head.

I’ll just give her a second.

After cranking down her window, ALEX pulls out a pack of cigarettes, and takes a cigarette out. She lights it easily with practiced fingers and a black lighter. She inhales and exhales, staring into the distance. After a minute, ZOEY wakes up, crinkling her nose.

ALEX

Awake?

ZOEY

Yeah, thanks to your iron lungs.

ALEX

Want a smoke?

ZOEY

No thank you.

ZOEY yawns.

Where are we?

ALEX

We left from Rio Vista about a couple hours ago. I’m not sure when you fell asleep. It’s pretty late, so I pulled over outside a smaller settlement.

ZOEY

And where are we going again? You know, security of self, and all?

ALEX

Rolling her eyes

You’re secure. But fine. We’re on our way to San Jose island.

ZOEY

I think I remember that name. But before the outbreak - it wasn’t somewhere people lived, right?

ALEX

Correct.

ZOEY

Then why do you need to go there? Aren’t you looking for someone?

ALEX

There weren’t people there before the outbreak. But there are now. Like Willie said - a settlement called Wholesale. And there are also several plants and animals native to just that island that will help in the search for a cure. Ingredients that can be used for medical experimentation.

ZOEY

Wow, you’re a nerd. Okay. San Jose Island. How far away is that from here, exactly?

ALEX

It’ll be another 2 hours on the road, and a little boat ride. Unless you want to swim.

ZOEY

I loved swimming before the outbreak, actually.

ALEX smiles in a sad way. You can tell she misses “before the outbreak” life.

ALEX

Me too.

ZOEY

What were you like, before?

ALEX

Why do you need to know?

ZOEY

C’mon. You let me come with you. Humor me.

ALEX

Well…

A VISION OF THE PAST. In front of the parked car, we see a young child version of ALEX walk gracefully to front center stage. She is wearing flowy clothing.

I used to love to dance.

Light, jovial string music begins to play, and PAST ALEX dances in a graceful ballerina style along with it.

ZOEY

You don’t dance anymore?

PAST ALEX dances off of the stage and the music fades out. ALEX’s face darkens.

ALEX

What’s the point? Dancing doesn’t help anyone.

ZOEY

But it made you happy, right?

ALEX

Zoey, leave it.

ZOEY

I’m just saying… even though the world sucks, you still have to do things for yourself sometimes, right? I don’t know… maybe you’d be happier if you did.

ALEX

There really isn’t time for me to be putting aside for plies, Zoey.

ZOEY

Alright, alright. So what’s the plan?

ALEX

We’re parked just outside Big Bend. It’s a smaller settlement. I think we could probably find someplace to sleep there.

ZOEY

Sounds good to me.

The two girls exit ALEX’s car and walk to the gates of the settlement. A man in various metal and leather armor greets them, eyeing them suspiciously.

GUARD

Who are you?

ALEX

We’re just travellers. Hoping to stay the night.

GUARD

Your car - it caught the attention of the herd. They’re coming near here. Know how to fight?

ALEX

Sure.

ZOEY makes a face. She’s not so sure.

GUARD

Okay. If you can help me fight ‘em off, you’ve got a room for the night.

ZOEY

We can’t just, I don’t know, go inside?

GUARD

Not exactly. They’d be clawing at the walls, and our defenses aren’t the best they’ve ever been.

ALEX pulls out a large combat knife from her belt-holster and holds it at the ready. ZOEY, realizing that this is happening (whether she likes it or not), pulls a machete from her cross-body strap holster.

GUARD

They’re coming.

A group of 4 zombies clamber onstage, towards our main characters. Silently, ALEX lunges forward and plants the blade of her knife in the nearest zombie, forcing it to the ground and pulling out her knife. For good measure, she stomps on its head as she moves forward to perform the same procedure on the next one. The guard smashes one walker’s head against the walls of the compound, and ZOEY stabs the last one in the chest with her machete. It gets stuck, the walker still growling and struggling to bite her, and she yells for help. ALEX appears heroically, and stabs the walker bluntly in its cranium.

ZOEY

out of breath, filled with adrenaline

Thanks.

ALEX nods. She is still impersonal. They fight off the next 3 walkers that come near the walls.

GUARD

I think that’s the worst of it. I could get the rest of them. Thanks - y’all aren’t half bad.

ZOEY

smiling

It’s all her.

The guard calls up to another guard elevated in a watcher position, and the gate to the compound opens. BIG BEND. It is a smaller compound, and the girls catch it in the dead of the night. Almost everyone is asleep, and the buildings are quiet. The one building that seems lively is the bar of the town, with music playing from inside, and the lights are still lit.

GUARD

Second house on the left. My wife and I live there. We have a room for you two to stay in.

ALEX

Thank you. I appreciate it.

The gate closes, and the girls walk inside.

ZOEY

It’s kind of nice, isn’t it?

ALEX

No nicer than the other dozens of compounds around Tejas. Why?

ZOEY

I don’t know. Look at the flowerbeds. It seems like life here is slower.

ALEX

It’s… nice, I guess. Just not exactly what I’m looking for.

ALEX yawns.

Let’s get to that room.

ZOEY

Sure.

They walk silently to the house that the guard has indicated, and ALEX knocks three raps on the brightly painted front door. There is silence in response, and then some rustling inside. The door opens a crack, and the girls are met with an adolescent teenage boy in pajamas. He peers at them strangely. It seems like he has just woken up.

ALEX

Um- hi, there. We’re travellers. The guard at the gate told us we could stay in a room here.

BOY

Oh. Sure. That was my dad. Come in, I’ll show you.

The house is nicely decorated with knick-knacks of the past world covering each surface. There are garden gnomes, pottery, glass animals, carved woods, framed pictures, and other worn odds-and-ends. Also, there are some mounted heads of animals, indicating successful hunting. ZOEY looks around in wonder and amazement. She has never seen a home like this.

The boy brings them up a set of stairs to a room and opens the door to the bedroom. We see that it only has one bed. The room is tiny, and there isn’t much floor space - but the bed is big enough for two people.

ALEX

Oh.

ALEX shifts uncomfortably.

Is there another mattress anywhere?

BOY

No. Sorry, miss… Goodnight.

The boy exits, closing the door behind him, and ALEX and ZOEY are left alone again. They both look like they’re not sure what to do. The awkwardness in the air is palpable.

ZOEY

Well, I guess we should start getting ready for bed.

ALEX

Zoey, I can’t.

ZOEY

Can’t what?

ALEX

Um…

ALEX looks over to the bed, and back at ZOEY.

ZOEY

Oh, come on. Get over yourself. You say “I’m the smartest person you’ll ever meet” but you can’t even share a bed with someone?

ALEX

Shut the fuck up. I’m just saying. I don’t want to… you know, cross any boundaries.

ZOEY

Well, you’re welcome to sleep on the floor - be my guest. But there’s a bed, and I’m tired. So I’m sleeping on it.

There is a bit of tenseness in the room that isn’t direct, but awkward. ALEX begins to take off her equipment, including holsters and knives and guns, and arranges them neatly on the dresser opposite to the bed.

ALEX

I’m… I’m sorry. I’ll sleep in the bed.

ZOEY

You don’t have to be sorry. It’s okay.

ZOEY strips off her outerwear, including her shirt and pants with no regard to the other girl in the room. ALEX immediately blushes, averting her eyes. ZOEY yawns, and burrows into the blankets on the bed. ALEX, with her outerwear still on, tentatively pulls back the blankets to get under them.

Are you going to wear your jacket to bed?

ALEX

I’m… I… I think so.

ZOEY

Okay.

ALEX reaches over to the nightstand and extinguishes the lantern providing the room with light. She lays back into the bed, staring at the ceiling.

ALEX

Zoey?

ZOEY

Yeah?

ALEX

Goodnight.

ZOEY

Night, Alex.

SCENE 3

THE NEXT MORNING, the BIG BEND GUEST BEDROOM. Through the window shines a morning light. ALEX wakes up first, and finds through wary eyes that she took off her jacket in the night, now only wearing a worn cutoff black t-shirt and pants. She and ZOEY are accidentally intertwined, and it makes ALEX blush severely, quickly retracting her hands from their place around ZOEY’s waist. She shakes her head, and begins to redress, but ZOEY wakes up.

ZOEY

Ugh. It feels so early.

ALEX

Do you sleep ‘till noon every day? God, I wish I was as careless as you.

ZOEY

Hey, back off. For real though, I slept well last night.

ALEX blushes again, turning away as ZOEY gets out of bed. In the morning light, ZOEY is beautiful: medium-dark skin in a worn set of underwear, sleepy eyes and messy, dark hair. It is impossible for ALEX to look at her. ZOEY begins to redress.

ALEX

Yeah. Me too.

ZOEY

What’s on the schedule for today?

ALEX

I think we can get there today. Just a couple more hours of driving. And then we find Dusty Biggs.

ZOEY

Know anything about Dusty before Willie told you about him?

ALEX

Oh yeah. Plenty. He’s a big name in medicine and drugs. Kind of a druggie himself.

ZOEY

Sounds like a criminal I could chill with.

ALEX

Really?

ZOEY

What! I like junkies! They’re relatable.

ALEX

This junkie’s a bad guy. He likes to do hard drug experiments on people. It’s… not fun stuff.

ZOEY

Experiments?

ALEX

You don’t want to know. Let’s go.

The two exit the GUEST BEDROOM, and appear downtown BIG BEND. People walk and chat, mostly gathering around dining area of the compound, having a breakfast with eggs and vegetables. On the way out, ALEX grabs them two water bottles and two protein bars. They exit BIG BEND, entering…

ALEX’s car. As ALEX turns the key and drives away, ZOEY buckles in and leans back. After leaving the compound, ALEX gets onto the road and is freely driving.

ZOEY

Hey, Alex.

ALEX

What?

ZOEY

You’ve been weird since this morning.

ALEX’s eyebrows furrow.

ALEX

What do you mean?

ZOEY

Well, for starters, you won’t look at me. I thought it was maybe exhaustion but I’m more tired than you. So what’s wrong?

ALEX remembers the morning, the way ZOEY looked in the sunlight from the window. She also remembers how warm her arms and torso were from being beside ZOEY in the night.

ALEX

Nothing.

ZOEY

No! Something’s up.

ALEX

outburst

Fine. Fine! I woke up with my arms around you.

Awkward silence.

ZOEY

Well, that’s okay.

ALEX

No, Zoey, it’s…

ZOEY

Alex, why are you acting so weird about it? I think you’re cute. Is there something wrong about that?

ALEX

It’s just…

ZOEY

If you don’t like girls I get it, I just wanted to shoot my shot, y’know--

ALEX

Zoey, I like girls. Shit, I mean, I like you. It’s just weird. Romance. I feel like I’m not… great at it.

ZOEY

Oh. Well that’s silly.

ALEX

Silly?

ZOEY

Yeah. Silly. The world ended 8 years ago. When I was 10, and I bet when you were pretty young, too.

ALEX

I was 11.

ZOEY

We grew up without any guidance on relationships, how to flirt, how to act on your feelings in a healthy way… It makes sense to feel awkward about it.

ALEX

Why don’t you?

ZOEY

Simple lack of shame when I’m around cute girls.

ALEX laughs, but she’s still blushing. She pulls over on the side of the road, and parks the car, killing the ignition. She looks at ZOEY.

ALEX

Last night… It was nice.

ZOEY smiles, a bit sadly. She puts her hand on the side of ALEX’s face, brushing ALEX’s dark hair behind her ear. Their faces are close.

ZOEY

Quietly

Oh, really?

ALEX

Yes.

ZOEY leans forward, her eyes fluttering closed as ALEX’s do at the same time. Their lips connect, A CHASTE KISS, but one that makes ALEX’s whole body quiver and shrink up. They disconnect, and ALEX avoids eye contact, blushing immensely.

ZOEY

You’re adorable.

ALEX

No, you’re--

Suddenly, A WALKER!

It bangs its head against the window on the driver’s side, splattering glass all over ALEX! ZOEY screams, and ALEX’s words fade to a yell as she manuevers to turn on the car. She ignites the engine, and starts to drive, but the walker bangs its head into the window again. ZOEY, yelling, lunges forward with her machete, nailing it in the head and tossing it out the window.

After they get onto open road, ZOEY begins to laugh, manic.

ALEX

What? What, you weirdo?

ZOEY

Between fits of laughter

My- my machete. I left it back there.

ALEX

Why… is that funny?

ZOEY

I don’t know!

ZOEY takes a few breathes, dizzy with laughter.

But aren’t you so happy to be alive?

ALEX smiles.

#my writing

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liray-stylespk · 3 years

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athletaint · 5 years

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aureyix-blog · 4 years

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A lot of people over the bridge didn't like me for what I had done

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daziran1 · 5 years

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pierrevonmondragon · 6 years

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Now I’m A Cowboy

In this essay I would like to ask just how much can we the viewer take for granted in analysing just what a photograph can tell us about aesthetic issues such as space and representation, and allied concepts such as place, culture and nationality, and how much might the formal qualities support or otherwise undermine an objective reading of such within a photograph or series of photographs. As the photographs I am examining have an instantly comprehensible set of qualities that frame their contents as having to do with 'The American West' of historic and cultural renown, I would like to look at the tensions that may arise between the works themselves and the cultural assumptions that freight upon the idea of the 'Cowboy', and my primary point of departure will lie in ideas of representation of objects in pictorial space, although further positioning in terms of physical and mental location in spaces is unavoidable. As much as any attempt to decipher, my analysis will look at the ways in which theory can be productively applied to these particular photographs, and to one specific example, in order to show how theoretical application can penetrate the most seemingly opaque surface.

All five photographs in the series share similar physical attributes; identical portrait framingi, a subject matter consisting of incomplete and depersonalised human figures, there are no faces here, distinctiveness is signified here by entirely different details, those of particular modes of dress. The photographs all bear the reflective marks of the camera flash, the artificial pallor in their fixed moments working to flatten visual contrast, too harsh for sfumato, instead, a spotlight.

There are five photographs in the short series presented, all untitled, comprising of; a detail of a leg ending in a cowboy boot, a person's back covered with a shirt made to resemble the flag of the USA, another person's back in a fringed suede jacket, a woman's lower half combining seemingly bridal attire with matching cowgirl boots, and a woman in highly stylised contemporary 'Western' dress. Some of my points will address the entire series, but the photograph on which I will concentrate is perhaps the most ambiguous in the set, the first photograph of a black denim clad leg, with protruding boot heel in front of a piece of furniture in an anonymous setting. I feel it is valuable to identify and examine the initial assumptions with which I freighted the image; that of the cowboy sitting perched on a stool at the saloon bar, perhaps a man in black, a recurrent trope in the iconographies of the 'American West'. Informed by that which has come before, before any conscious analysis, I have already jumped to conclusions, it is then my task to isolate them, and triangulate them by the twin sextants of theory and formal examination.

The most vital compositional aspect that makes this specific photograph is the positioning of the camera lens, set low in height at close to ground level and fixed straight ahead on the visual plane. In this it is adherent to Russian painter and photographer Aleksandr Rodchenko's exhortation, in the essay The Paths of Modern Photography, in favour of the use of extreme vantage points as an inherent quality of photography.ii

The flashlit nature of the image has a deglamourising effect on what we see, shadows are clearly delineated from instead of softly intruding upon matter, preventing the close-up from taking on as much of a monumental quality as might otherwise be observed in a more pictorially composed image. This high level of sharp focus in harsh light seems to attest to an attribute of representative truth in the work, the photograph appears to have what author and critic Andre Bazin refers to in the mid twentieth century as the “the quality of credibility”iii as to how this scene would have looked truthfully at point of objective mechanical capture. The boot here is what theorist John Szarkowski called 'the thing itself' in the 1960s, and the sharp quality of the capture and rendering what he described as the “...tangible presence of reality...”iv

In so doing the photograph illustrates not only the persistence of the applicability of modernist theory, but also the truth of the fact that theories coexist, and while some may predominate at varying times, there are always aesthetic circumstances that allow the reuse or even revival of once overarching theories, risen from dormancy.

The formal qualities of the photograph bear hallmarks that attest to the forces of both indexicality and iconicity. Indexicality, that which treats the photograph as “... a physical trace or index of... reality...”v is apparent here in the verisimilitude of the image, its reflection of that which would have been witnessed, indeed was by the photographer.

But alongside the indexicality of truth to nature there exists the iconicity at work in the choice of photographic subjects that are recognisable as relating to the likeness and resemblance that work within the iconic. When it comes to attempting to interpret or understand the subject of the photograph, only iconicity with its attribute of resemblance can begin to decipher the contents herein. The unmooring of the significant detail in the picture, the cowboy boot, from the rest of its corporeal host body seems to me to work on the pictorial-iconic level by elevating the peripheral to the centre and constructing significance by doing so. It is this dual ambiguous nature that art historian and theoretician Lars Kiel Bertelsen uses in his differing binary; rather than opposing iconicity with indexicality, he replaces the latter with the term Ichnographic, a term whose creation can be traced to Leibniz, from the Greek ichnos for footprint, Bertelsen explains;

“Here, I read ichnography literally as the science of describing (foot) prints- the same way iconography is the science of describing images- or, more generally, as the art of writing with imprints as opposed to the art of writing with images.”vi

Bertelsen explains his preference by showing that indexicality as a term appears impartial or objective, and the author prefers ichnography to make clear that the writing is about “traces, footprints and imprints.”vii In other words not objective, aloof or loftily Apollonian, but subjective. It is instructive to apply this idea to our photograph, albeit seemingly overly literal given the impression of the boot on the surface, a trace of a whole culture of the Old West frontier, an iconic signification at the same time as a foot making a trace on a floor. The boot then may be seen as an iconic signifier for the idea of 'The Old American West', as distinguished from the modern geopolitical construct also known as 'The West'. But alone in its harsh light, prosaic and unglamourous, might it as much be a simulacrum in the Baudrillardian sense? An empty sign referring only to the other empty signs of cowperson culture, exhausted through centuries of appropriation, this isolated limb heightening the hermetic isolation within the frame.viii

This sense of Baudrillardian meaninglessness is important as we address the subject of the photograph and the seeming issues of nationality they might raise. But we the viewer must understand that although the photographic subjects concern ideas of 'America', this absolutely cannot be read as them having been taken in the actual United States of America, cultural flows have disseminated from out of the USA that use wholesale elements from that culture, most prominently through the agency of Country and Western music, these photographs could have been taken almost anywhere, there is a version of the Grand Ole Opry, the ground zero of country music in Nashville, in Glasgow, Scotlandix, after all, so perhaps also equivalents exist in the Netherlands, Russia, China. The photographs are as likely to be taken in situations of homage, pastiche and parody, as in those of authenticity, amongst the folk roots of a people, as an everyday expression of national and cultural identity, or perhaps, this is as genuine as it gets in any 21st century interpretation of a 19th century culturex whose myths were written in the 20th. There is no evidence present that we can construe as any kind of objective 'truth'; like the idea of the photograph as Baudrillard's “perfect crime” the disembodied limb with boot implies much, but avows nothing that can be verified. This rupture demonstrates that an apparent subject can be in fact, utterly decontextualised, with all it supposed content nothing more than a surface trace of a relationship that may be long vanished, the metaphorical corpse is left behind, but there is no evidence as to how it got that way.xi

This relationship can be seen to be sustained within the series of photographs presented, each individual photograph contains an image of an item which might seem intimately bound to the idea of the Old West, but on further inspection holds the quality of the empty sign, evidence only of a long genealogy of other signs; a flag toned shirt, kitsch dirndl, the wedding of Mr & Mrs A. Cowperson (assumed), a scene as likely to be set in Paris, France as Paris, Texas, in Dallas, Scotland, in Trans-Caucasian Georgia, in America or Anywhere.

But if we cannot safely assume any element of geospatial truthfulness in these fragments of the Old West then what can the cultural traces present in the photograph be said to be doing? What if any significance does the content of the photograph have to the cognitive processes triggered in the spectator? I feel that the symbolic content within this particular works taps into what French social theorist and philosopher Michel Foucault delineates as the heterotopian, indeed the idea of the Old American West itself seems to be as a site an example of the heterotopia, a place; “...outside of all places, even though it may be possible to indicate their location in reality...”xii The American West was once a real place in a real time, but the position it occupies now in collective culture adheres more closely to the Foucaultian location in heterotopian space, and the relationship of the cowboy boot in the picture to the picture itself and its viewer is as the ideas and traces of the Old West is to historical actuality; simultaneously “real and unreal”xiii, present and absent. This concept I find wholly suitable for a subject matter that is at once both instantly recognisable, and yet utterly divorced from its point of origin; familiar and unreal, a mythic stream cut off from its own source.

To conclude, our initial sensation of the presence of iconic and narrative Americana is entirely dependent on notions of indexical truth that the natural verisimilitude of the photograph implies. But on analysis I find that all I think I know about this picture is based on centuries of iconic cultural construction, not on the traces that are actually present, the photograph is both a vessel containing meaning, and an ambiguous frontage giving away nothing of any real substance. But we have also shown that no matter how multiplicitous or mysterious a photograph might be, however much meaning seems to slide off of it, by the judicious interpretation and application of theoretical writings about the art, valuable insights and understandings can be hewn from the rough material of the singular artistic object that is the photograph. Every photograph has some element of transparency which illustrating theories can use to banish opacity and make things clearer, some degree of power to render translucent that which is occluded.

Bibliography.

J. BAUDRILLARD. The Perfect Crime. Verso: London: 1996. Referred to on p 38, ch 1, Photography Theory In Historical Perspective.

Andre BAZIN. The Ontology of the Photographic Image. 1945. Contained in Classic Essays on Photography. Edited by A. TRACHTENBERG. Leetes Island Press: New Haven: 1980.

Lars Kiel BERTELSEN. Reading Photographs Iconographically or Ichnographically. Essay chapter in The Meaning of Photography. Edited by Robin KELSEY & Blake STIMSON. Sterling and Francine Clark Institute/Yale University Press: New Haven: 2008.

Hilde van GELDER & Helen WESTGEEST. Photography Theory In Historical Perspective. Wiley-Blackwell: Chichester: 2011.

Bibliography (continued).

Michel FOUCAULT. Of Other Spaces: Utopias and Heterotopias. (“Des Espace Autres,” March 1967 Translated from the French by Jay Miskowiec) full text accessed at http://web.mit.edu/allanmc/www/foucault1.pdf. Cited in Diacritics. 1986.

Susan-Mary GRANT. A Concise History of the United States of America. Cambridge University Press: Cambridge: 2012.

The Meaning of Photography. Edited by Robin KELSEY & Blake STIMSON. Sterling and Francine Clark Institute/Yale University Press: New Haven: 2008.

Aleksandr RODCHENKO. The Paths of Modern Photography. Essay reproduced in Photography In the Modern Era: European Documents and Critical Writings, 1913-1940. Edited by Ch. PHILLIPS. Metropolitan Museum of Art: New York: 1989.

J. SZARKOWSKI. The Photographer's Eye. Museum of Modern Art: New York: 1966.

iI have always found it illuminating that in the standard language of photographic arts, so many foundational technical terms, such as relating to aspect ratios, are built with language derived from painting, the use of the terms 'portrait' and 'landscape' themselves being so obvious in it almost blends into banality.

iiAleksandr RODCHENKO. The Paths of Modern Photography. Essay reproduced in Photography In the Modern Era: European Documents and Critical Writings, 1913-1940. Edited by Ch. PHILLIPS. Metropolitan Museum of Art: New York: 1989.pp 256-263.

iiiAndre BAZIN. The Ontology of the Photographic Image. 1945. Contained in Classic Essays on Photography. Edited by A. TRACHTENBERG. Leetes Island Press: New Haven: 1980. p 241.

ivJ. SZARKOWSKI. The Photographer's Eye. Museum of Modern Art: New York: 1966. p 12.

vHilde van GELDER & Helen WESTGEEST. Photography Theory In Historical Perspective. Wiley-Blackwell: Chichester: 2011. p 34.

viLars Kiel BERTELSEN. Reading Photographs Iconographically or Ichnographically. Essay chapter in The Meaning of Photography. Edited by Robin KELSEY & Blake STIMSON. Sterling and Francine Clark Institute/Yale University Press: New Haven: 2008. pp 170-171.

viiLars Kiel BERTELSEN. Reading Photographs Iconographically or Ichnographically. Essay chapter in The Meaning of Photography. Edited by Robin KELSEY & Blake STIMSON. Sterling and Francine Clark Institute/Yale University Press: New Haven: 2008. p 171 “... ichnography... is definitely not in any way objective or neutral...”

viiiJ. BAUDRILLARD. The Perfect Crime. Verso: London: 1996. Referred to on p 38, ch 1, Photography Theory In Historical Perspective.

ixhttp://glasgowsgrandoleopry.co.uk/wp/ More of a low rent tribute than accurate facsimile, and unlikely to be officially endorsed by the original.

xThe US Superintendent of the Census declared the 'American frontier' to be no longer extant in 1890. Susan-Mary GRANT. A Concise History of the United States of America. Cambridge University Press: Cambridge: 2012. p 241.

xiJ. BAUDRILLARD. The Perfect Crime. Verso: London: 1996. Referred to on p 38, ch 1, Photography Theory In Historical Perspective.

xiiMichel FOUCAULT. Of Other Spaces: Utopias and Heterotopias. (“Des Espace Autres,” March 1967 Translated from the French by Jay Miskowiec) full text accessed at http://web.mit.edu/allanmc/www/foucault1.pdf. Cited in Diacritics. 1986. p. 144 Photography Theory in Historical Perspective.

xiiiMichel FOUCAULT, 1967 as above, but the wording specifically as formulated on p 144 of Photography Theory in Historical Perspective, 2011.

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