The Tyranny of the Mirror, an eight-part cinépoem that features lots of lovely ladies like Annie, up there in the toe shoes, is screening this weekend at the Sacramento International Film Festival.
We’re part of the NorCal AllStars group, and you can see us on the big screen at 11a.m.-ish this Saturday (April 9) at the Crocker Art Museum in Sacramento.
If you’re in northern California this weekend, stop by and check us out!
-Lo, with the promo.
We started shooting on a rainy day in January. I had just found out I was pregnant, so I wanted to hurry up and shoot my vignette before I got as big as a barn.
My goal was to finish the entire thing before the baby arrived. But “The Tyranny of the Mirror” was our most ambitious cinépoem to date, and it took a bit longer to complete than I planned.
One cinépoem with eight parts — eight different scenes, eight different women, eight different voices. The poem, as a whole, explores our obsession with our mirror image. It takes a look at a bunch of different ways that the mirror, and how we see ourselves in it, affects us, no matter who we are.
Because I’ve never met any woman who is entirely satisfied with the way she looks. As the poem goes, ...I am not satisfied/I could always be thinner/Mind over mirror.
So I have several people to thank for this one.
My fearless partner in cinépoetry, Michelle Brown, who is usually behind the camera but lent her face and her voice to this project, and starts the whole cinépoem out with a bang in “earth suit.”
Lani Alo, making her cinépoem debut in “thick around the middle” and flawlessly delivering that muffin tops line.
Lisa Sims, also a cinépoem virgin, looking good under a pink-hued sky in “grande y bonita.”
Kathy Azada, cinépoem veteran, holding her own in “dressing room.”
Johanna Baldwin, another first timer, looking fine in “skinny jeans.”
Melissa Fondakowski marks her second cinépoem appearance by eating on camera in “zaftig.”
Annie Leuenberger, also new to cinépoetry, did an amazing job in “cell memory” getting up on pointe.
And Aaron Purvis returns for the third time with an original score that he composed just for us. It’s gorgeous.
So a huge thanks to all of you, and also to my man Bruce, who shot “earth suit,” as well as all our fabulous assistants. This wouldn’t have happened without you!
Now, go see our biggest cinépoem ever, “The Tyranny of the Mirror,” now playing on the cinépoems page and also on YouTube.
-Lo, who can’t believe we finally finished it!
Mood: exiting stage left | Drinking: tea, naturally
In honor of the impending neuroses of swimsuit season, I have a six-part poem for you…
The Tyranny of the Mirror
earth suit
Sometimes I forget how to lie
to myself
how to steely stare down
my mirror eye
and convince my reflection
she is good enough,
she is smart enough,
and goddammit, people
like her.
Some days I forget that what I see
doesn’t matter.
That what is housed invisibly within,
floating somewhere between bones and skin,
is more everlasting than its cage.
thick around the middle
I think about my body
every day.
Make lists
of unsatisfactory parts.
Measuring
with no joy
the increasing distance
between hands
spaced on either side
of my waist.
I remember when
muffin tops
were just delicious
and bore no correlation
to shame.
grande y bonita
For weeks now, the Mexican man
behind the counter at the Shell station
has been flirting.
He woos me with free fountain sodas
and appreciative stares.
Finally today he asks if I have a boyfriend
and shakes his head in dismay
when I reply.
“When I come to America, I dream
of meeting girl like you,”
he says, looking up to meet my eyes.
“Strong. Big. Beautiful.”
I blush and pay for my Diet Coke
and all the way home, wonder if “big”
can be construed to mean “tall.”
skinny jeans
The “Diet for Dummies”
costs $40 to download
and I pay the price
without blinking,
print out the menu
that reads “broiled halibut”
and “carrot sticks,”
dream of slimming body image
solutions while couching
in sweat pants, munching
white cheddar Cheez-Its.
cell memory
Just because you wear new skin
than you did 2,556 days ago
does not mean the old you
has been forgotten.
Cell memory gets passed down
from regeneration to regeneration.
The new cells are born with collective
knowledge and an inferiority complex.
What you focus on the most is remembered,
is held within muscles,
whispered from vein to vein.
Even the smallest of cells knows
exactly how much you hate yourself.
seven years of bad luck
Somehow the tyranny of the mirror
remains through the ages unbroken,
undiminished by intelligence
weight loss
and the compliments of lovers.
Seven years ago I thought I was fat,
posing for pictures with a cheek-pinching
smile, stomach sucked
concave. Now I see
what that girl never could,
that she was traffic-stopping,
jaw-dropping, heart-popping
gorgeous.
But standing sideways before the glass,
I think that seven years is a long time –
things grow. sag. wrinkle.
To find this woman beautiful,
I will need seven more.
*****
-Lo, whose bikini days are behind her.
LaDonnaWitmer 