‘Secrets,’ a poem from The Poetry Storehouse by Ruth Foley, turned out to be the second remix of an accidental triptych I completed on abusive situations (the first was brother carried the poppies by Theresa Senato Edwards, and the third You as tunnel by Rose Hunter).
The language of Secrets was slow and rather sensuous, and when I first read it, I took it as the description of a gradual process of discovery, an uncovering, a blooming of sorts. It was only on the second and subsequent reads that I took in the extent to which it was actually a slow process of flaying, and of destruction. Then it struck me as really incredibly violent, and all the more so for being presented in so meditative and lush a fashion.
My initial thought in seeking images for the remix was to follow that suggested by the poem and use fruit – which would end up peeled, denuded and rotting. Unfortunately (or fortunately) no-one seems to film peeled or rotting fruit for stock image purposes, so that idea dead-ended quickly.
I had a wider array of image metaphors available to me than usual, as I had just (finally..) purchased a subscription to Video Blocks, a stock media site which allows unlimited downloads. Exploring the site, I came across a whole category of clips called ‘Slo Mo Breaking Smashing’, which contained a rather wild collection of destruction footage (one can imagine the filming of these clips as basic small boy heaven – baseballs and hammers smashing glass, cheese balls and soda cans dropped into spinning blenders, a bowling ball smashing into a TV, etc).
‘Slo Mo Breaking Smashing’ seemed to me the perfect metaphor for Secrets, one that would complement, while adding to, the experience of the poem. I chose from it a series of clips for the remix, ending with the shock of the smashed light bulb to frame the devastating last line, ‘darkening in your hand.’
For the soundtrack, I used a track appropriately titled ‘A rotten fairytale’ by a Soundcloud member called Mustafank, whose work I had run across in a video elsewhere (wish I could remember where now). It starts with a toy piano solo and moves into an electric guitar solo, with a faux-innocent sinister feel that really makes you think Hansel & Gretel, sweet gingerbread house & related bad things.
Many thanks to Ruth Foley for sharing her poems at The Poetry Storehouse!