Asemic J93 -The Hoarse Feathers Opera

 

Little remains of The Hoarse Feathers Opera, a German Expressionist Silent Movie (1923-5). The image above is artwork prepared for a movie poster.

The following scene sequence (Dance of The Hoarse Feathers) is all that remains of this remarkable piece of early cinema.

 

 

The film’s setting was Schleswig-Holstein, with an ambiguous time period. The plot & characters were derived from a fusion of Shakespeare’s Coriolanus, Carroll’s Jabberwocky, and The I-Ching.

The following is a translation of the opening song from the libretto.

 

<~*****

Biting the pink star letters

I know I love to write,

Oh to write!

 

 

Oh to write and work

many times!

Many times!

 

 

Many times,

Then One !

Then One!

 

 

Oh, tell your eyes;

therefore, Oh to write!

 

 

Then One will stop you, lobby!

Sleepy! Before this glitch?

Oh, therefore Birth of Beauty?

 

It’s easy to see what’s going on arrival.

It will start at irrigation

and the land will get out of control.

 

 

As a result, is the town itself a domain?

How long do you think

Sigma Joule will keep this going?

 

 

Many times,

Then One !

Then One!

 

 

Another transformation transforms

the molter krona fault

into a fertile desert,

rather than a kilometre of consolation;

Simply put, the Allied Territorial

construct recognizes domain shells.

 

 

 

Get a good night’s sleep

for two minutes.

 

 

I planted After that –

Gain-wain made a huge profit.

The extensible part is time consuming.

Farmland by the river -Sopping.

Click on e and Indus.

Aces ink’ s men died of crabs.

 

 

I have a gumshoe smile –

Oh to write and work

many times!

Many times!

Many times,

Then One !

Then One!

 

The music was composed for the tuba, saxophone, kazoo,glockenspiel hurdy-gurdy, banjo ,bandura and bandoneon. Here are pages of the unique notation used in the musical score.

 

 

 

monochrome waves

The last Text Message came as Summer slipped into September

  • we remain because u really humiliated us.

The churning dark had crawled the edges of the shoreline, while whispers scuttled across the sand, catching dimming desires between the grains. Looking back, perhaps, it had not been the best day to picnic. The knife to slice the fruit had proven useful though.

Standing there now, catching the motes with his eyes, his vision swirls rapidly over the sand’s wet boundaries towards the aphotic waters.

“They are on the other side of the island. Our swimmers play together there. I see you, poor souls – All crying from the depths – those waves crying.”

He joined in, they were all crying from the bottom of their hearts – a wave of shame struggling to breath.