Taxi Driver

In 1972, destitute critic-turned-screenwriter Paul Schrader was down and out on his luck, living in his car. In these conditions he wrote the first draft of "Taxi Driver," finishing the script in just seven days. The script was optioned by producers Julia and Michael Phillips, who recruited Martin Scorsese, fresh from directing the gritty "Mean Streets," to helm the picture. Robert De Niro, star of "Mean Streets," and "The Godfather Part II," was selected by Scorsese to play the lead role of cab-driver Travis Bickle.
The story of Travis Bickle revolves around his disgust with the underbelly of New York City. Each night as he drives his cab, Travis witnesses prostitution and other vices that make him hate his surroundings. He feels that the city should be cleansed. Through narrated passages, we learn that Travis is a loner. He doesn't have any friends, except for a few cabbie aquaintances. He cannot sleep, and spends his time off in porno theaters, surrounded by the smut that he claims to despise. Travis's lonliness becomes the subject matter of the first half of the film, as he descends into madness trying to cope with it.
Writer Paul Schrader: "'Taxi Driver' dramatizes the all too human condition of lonliness, a human being who moves through the maddening crowd, jostled, brushed, ignored or abused, hassled or pandered, but who is somehow untouched by any of it because of his own secret world of fantasy and his inability to communicate with his fellow humans. In short, a lonely man, aching to recognized and loved, but unable to attain it."
When "Taxi Driver" was released in 1976, it garnered praise for De Niro's performance, as well as the performance of Jodie Foster, who was just 12 when she appeared in the movie as an underage prostitute. The movie also made headlines because of its edgy, ultra-violent climax. The film was considered Scorsese's first true masterpiece, earning him the Golden Palm award at the Cannes Film Festival.
Stylistically, the film has the grittiness typical of '70's New York films, such as "The French Connection" and "Mean Streets," but this is inherant of the setting. It is given a surreal quality by the cinematography and editing, however. Rain glistens on the street and on the cab, street lights cast their glow on the nightlife, while the huge, glistening facades of porno theaters loom above the vile characters beneath them. Travis is the focus of almost every single scene in the film. The monotony of his life is reflected in the tempo of the cab sequences. Oftentimes the same shots will be seen over and over again, then again in slow-motion, emphasing the rhythm his life. In "Taxi Driver," time seems endless. Day and night are cut together as though the editors has little regard for chronology, but this effectively illustrates Travis's state of being.
As the plot unfolds, we learn that Travis has fallen in love with a woman who works for the presidential campaign of Senator Charles Palentine. The sequences showing the woman, named Betsy, viewed from afar by Travis, are seductive slow-motion studies that are long in duration. Travis's narration reveals that he thinks Betsy is an angel, and Scorsese relates this onscreen by filming her like one, dressed in white and photographed indulgently.
Scorsese presents most of the action through Travis's eyes, giving us close-ups of Travis's chilling gaze in the cab's rear-view mirror.
The film's climax, in which Travis finally lashes out at the scum he despises, is so surreally violent that the film was given an X-rating. To get an R-rating, the cinematographer agreed to de-saturate the film stock so that the blood, which was dark red, would appear pink. This change, although not made with artistic intention, actually hightens the intensity of the sequence. With its strange color, and its mix of quick cutting and slow-motion, the climax is an explosion of violent fantasy.

Camera Obscura Adventure

The principles behind camera obscura are surprisingly simple, but still manage to amaze viewers. The experience of seeing an image take shape in a pitch black room right before one's eyes is actually quite stunning. The light, coming from the outdoors, passes into the dark room through a minuscule hole and creates an upside-down image on the wall. It takes a few minutes for the human eye to see this, but after about five minutes, details of the outside world begin to appear. Since the image is upside-down and monochromatic, the experience is very trippy and surreal. One can feel their pupils and retina working to perceive the image, and this is almost psychedelic in nature. It is refreshingly to know that a simple ray of light shone through a mere pinhole can cause such an interesting phenomenon. Literally and figuratively, camera obscura is an eye-opening experience.

Sunlight from the outdoors isn't the only way to witness camera obscura. Well-illuminated indoor objects can have the same effect. For example, a still-life setup looks very dramatic when viewed in a camera obscura booth. At first, not all details are apparent. Vague shapes take form first. The most recognizable object was a model of a human hand. Next to it, there appeared to be several blobs taking shape. From what I perceived, two shapes were rectangular, one was globular, and the last was bottle-shaped. After leaving the booth and viewing the still-life, I realized that there were more shapes that my eyes hadn't detected. One was a cylinder, which I had mistaken for a rectangle, and another was a small sphere resting beside the hand. Had I stayed in the booth longer, these shapes probably would have become more apparent. For the most part, I managed to make out many of the major shapes.

A Landscape at Three Different Times in One Day

At mid-day this small building, containing electrical equipment, stands like a miniature castle in a public park. For the most part it is very well illuminated, however the sun's angle causes the facade to remain in shadow. The quality of light is very crisp, since this is the brightest time of day. Snow on the ground reflects sunshine, but because it's melting, most objects appear to have a wet sheen. The space is inhabited by geese and ducks that live in the reeds nearby, and walkers strolling through the park. There is moderate vehicular activity on this street, with a few cars passing every minute.

At sundown the park grows dark, but a timed light on the building keeps the entrance illuminated. There are too many trees and large buildings in the area for the sunset's orange glow to reach the park, but streetlights keep the surrounding area lit with a blue fluorescence. At this time of day, no one is in the park. The only signs of activity are cars going down the street, and the occasional jogger running by.

Once the sun has set, the park is pitch black. The main part of the building is almost completely in shadow except for the light above the entrance, which illuminates the short path leading up to it. Another timed light towards its rear illuminates that section. Streetlights cast a glow over the street where mainly taxicabs roam. Hardly any human activity is seen.

The most interesting time to view this area has proven to be mid-day, when there are people and animals inhabiting the park. I would describe the area to a blind person as a place of activity. Even without sight, one can sense the goings-on. The sounds-- people strolling and talking, geese honking, wind blowing, cars speeding by--as well as the wet sensation of the melting snow, all contribute to a feeling of activity made evident through the passage of time.

Ancient Egyptian Timekeeping: The Water Clock

The ancient Egyptian civilization, first springing up near the Nile delta around 5000 BC, had a very substantial understanding of time. It was the annual flooding of the Nile River that influenced ancient Egyptians to begin to record time. They needed to record time in order to determine when to plant and when to harvest crops. This relationship between the ancient people and nature reflected their spirituality, since they viewed the Nile as a pathway to the afterlife.
Ancient Egyptians used sundials to observe the 12 daytime hours, but in oder to tell time at night, a new method was needed. Under the reign of Ahmenhotep I, a man known as Amenemhat created a water clock. The water clock, also called a clepsydra, was a essentially a funnel made of alabaster that stood about 95 centimeters high. It had 12 sections carved into it, each with 11 perforations lining it. When filled with water, the clepsydra would take 12 hours to drain through a tiny hole in its base. To tell time, one had to observe the water level in the clock, and read the time according to the closest perforation. The timekeepers were priests and astronomers, who needed to know when to plan religious rituals, which were of utmost importance to the ancient civilization.

James Turrell

James Turrell's fascination with the influence of light on the human environment is the subject of much of his art. Turrell's ambitious crater project, started in 1972, is an attempt to immerse people in his grand vision: bringing the cosmos down to earth, and giving people a true sense of existing in time and space. This is an impressive undertaking, and an important one. In today's world, it appears that mankind has lost its connection with nature. Turrell's exhibitions allow people to enter atmospherically lit spaces where various illuminations influence behavioral and emotional states of viewers. This allows people to rekindle a relationship with nature, and experience interactions with light and time that they may take for granted in daily life. Stepping into Turrell's crater, one can feel the passage of time and earth's movement in space. Human life in the 21st century seems mostly disconnected from nature, and Turrell has effectively brought back to mankind these cosmic interactions.