Divisionism

I haven't seen all of Woody Allen's films, but I am slowly catching up thanks to my local library.  I have absolutely fallen in love with Purple Rose of Cairo and it's crazy descent in breaking the fourth wall.  We live in such a silly time of celebrity and illusion and this film from the eighties makes us think about it all over again decades later.  So much fun and whimsy in this one:




(RIP)

I am someone who definitely gets lost in movies, books, plays, even a song from time to time.    My life is so ordinary and mundane and anything that allows my imagination to soar brings me such extreme joy.  There have been times where imagination has gotten the best of me and I can't even begin to describe those times in simple unsung English.  But when healthy doses of imagination curtail sadness...well, those are some pretty powerful sentiments.  Harnessing imagination is an art in and of itself, and as I continue to write and create stuff of my own I seek this type of knowledge and ability.  I want to be that adventurous writer.  It's in me....buried somewhere beneath the medication I take...

Have you ever been thrown into a moment of surreality that somehow similarly breaks the fourth wall? I can think of a few instances in my life where imagination and reality have been blurred.  One happened at a concert many, many years ago, when its star approached me in a crowded audience.  (I'd drop his name if this weren't the big bad internet and I knew fanatical fans of his keep his name locked down on widespread google alerts.  They can be pretty scary...)  As the spotlight followed him and he moved closer and closer to me over in the corner, I remember looking down at my feet, as if I needed to firmly plant my feet on the ground.  I guess he wanted me to jump up onstage and dance around and put on a show for him and everybody else in that crowded theatre.  I guess that's what he expected.  But that wasn't (and still isn't!) my personality and so I think I might have embarrassed him or something by rejecting such an advance.  The whole incident only lasted half the length of a song, yet here I sit all these years later reminiscing about it and the impact it had on how I view and accept my confidence, or lack thereof I guess I should say.  I once told a therapist about the incident and she turned it into something sexual about it being my first big sexual encounter and yada yada yada.  But it was more than just that.  It was a reality-infused swan dive (or cannonball depending on how you view it) into the imagination.  And how we perceive stage folk and their glittery shining hologram-like suits.  And how so very different 'celebrity' and 'real folk' can be.  A curator once suggested the term 'divisionism.'  Like there is a great big wall dividing our worlds...

Interesting stuff to ponder.