It's safe to say that the presence of the internet has seriously cut down on the amount of actual day-to-day, paper and ink, reading that goes down. Which is a shame, certainly. But among the silver linings to this proverbial cloud is the vastly increased exposure we now have to such little nuggets of wonderment as this short clip, a painstakingly detailed work that would have gone largely unseen in the days before broadband. We watch as the novel Going West, by New Zealand author Maurice Gee, is almost literally brought to life as the pages themselves spring into the third dimension and give form to the actions described therein. This particular silver lining happens to be especially lustrous, as the video is in fact among the New Zealand Book Council's admirable efforts to inspire people to read, and specifically to promote the stories and storytellers of New Zealand. Which, incidentally, makes for our second New Zealand themed post this week.

One From the Vault: Ken Nordine's Colors

Have you heard the big news? Magenta has her own gossip column! Finally, the inside scoop on the ins and outs of the entire color spectrum from that nosiest of colors. Of course, if you doubt that the secret lives of colors are really all that exciting in the first place, just ask Ken Nordine. A legendary Chicagoland radio DJ and voiceover man in the 50s and 60s, Nordine had a huge hit with a series of ads for Fuller Paint in which he waxed poetic on the company's various shades and hues. The ads were so popular, in fact, that the station was flooded with requests for them to be re-aired. Instead, Ken Nordine did the only logical thing. He recorded a entire album of such pieces, 34 tracks in all, on which he coolly holds forth on the vices and virtues of Turquoise, the obscurity of Nutria, and the foolishness of Russet. It's an album as almost-overwhelmingly bizarre as it is inescapably fascinating. As a veteran voice-actor, Nordine surely had ample experience imbuing drab copywriting with vim and vigor, and when he applies these same masterful skills to his thoroughly well-imagined color universe, the results are simply stunning. You'll listen in wide-eyed, jaw-dropped astonishment as he casually introduces the supporting members of the Group Called Oop, with Yellow Ocher on bari sax and Burnt Umber, recently paroled, on drums, before finally, excitedly, calling to the stage the star of the show: Sepia! You'll witness the dramatic irony of Olive's somber self-pity, while, elsewhere, "those with the nose for the new (the passionate few)," are about to name Olive the color of the year! And to think, without the insightful insights of Mr. Nordine, you'd have no clue/ of the greenest of greens, and the bluest of blues/ of the ongoing goings on/ of every color, shade, tint, and hue.

Incidentally, the antics of Ken's colors seem to have provided ample inspiration for aspiring animators, including what appears to be multiple class project built around his pieces, one featuring animated paper cut-outs, and another utilizing kinetic typography.

Featured Film: Sita Sings the Blues

To hear the brief synopsis of Sita Sings the Blues, "an animated version of the epic Indian tale of Ramayana set to the 1920's jazz vocals of Annette Hanshaw," you might register a mild curiosity. Faint intrigue, perhaps. It's a peculiar pairing of cultures, sure, but hardly one to send you hurtling towards the cineplex.
Therein, however, lies the slight of hand of so much great art. Because to see this tale burst forth from the screen, each minute saturated with passion and creativity, originality and humor, is to witness the full and glorious potential of what might, in lesser hands, have remained a mere novelty. Like The Triplets of Belville or Waltz With Bashir before it, Sita Sings the Blues shows us what we didn't even realize we were missing: genuinely iconoclastic explorations of animation in contemporary filmmaking. This playful journey of sound and vision takes us from the off-the-cuff banter of three Indonesian shadow puppets trying to recall childhood memories of the Ramayana tale to the Squigglevisiony depictions of the writer/director's own present day romantic travails; the psychedelic rotoscoped dance sequence midway through to the distinctive Flash aesthetic employed when the curvaceous Betty Boop-styled Sita reinterprets the Annette Hanshaw back-catalog.
Check out the film's website for more information on the Creative Commons license that allows you to view it for free!