the room is a white palace. there're tables symmetrically lined with cloths topped by candles. there's an endless buffet of food rich with nutrients. lights sparkle the ceiling like stars sparkle the sky. here we dance high on drugs. i personally recommend the leftover valium. some of us were explicitly not invited, but smoked joints in our cars before coming in. it is a celebration and the wine is free. tonight, for once, we don't have to consider all we fail to be. some of us are to vain to have a good time, other too high to arrive on time. most of us are early. our lives are empty. we have no better place to be. there are women dressed in roses picked before their blooms. men who spent the afternoon rolling in grass. i suppose we are all green when it comes to dancing. some of us are more gorgeous than others. we have dressed in white, shades picked from summer clouds, our falls have passed our winters warmed. but most of us, in this white room, are sullen and black, sneaking pills into each others' drinks. but the night could night advance, nor could it succeed, until we blew out all the candles--bringing darkness to light.

OHD Redo

I finally got around to redoing the narration on this short film. Thanks Brian for your vocal excellence.

Outside Her Door from Jake Hansen on Vimeo.

seoul at sundown

school of performing arts performs

all for not

all for not from Jake Hansen on Vimeo.

flowers by light

there are lights in the sky
i follow at night
to eternal flowers
blossoming gold
pollunized by lovers
resting on lips
of ever lasting pedals

diamonds in the sky

spring into seoul!

water in space

water in space from Jake Hansen on Vimeo.

in those days we always looked on the bright side

take what you like
parts of things
or memories as whole
take the nights in parks
where naked we boarded
low flying planes
take all those beaches
i don't care
if i can't remember
how the sun was so orange
as it ducked it's head
half way to invincibility
take the months of night
all those gentle graces
and finger traced spines
take it all
i will survive
thrive
on all that is left

gathered in spring

martin
we no longer feel the need
to hide our faces
it is spring now
and we aren't afraid
yes, i've gathered a troop
reinforcements if you will
it wasn't hard
with the coming of the sun
and all those cold nights
behind us

martin, i'm not in love with universe

1.

martin, it's unvelievable
there's just too many people
we stack ourselves here
sleep in restless pillars
my neighbor to the north
the one who stands on my shoulders
pissed on me the other night
martin it goes without saying
this is against the code
i don't know why
(maybe a learned sense of dillegence
which i certainly did not learn from you)
but i didn't budge
because all of them above me
would have fallen to their deaths
instead i slept
i dreamt
that i caused the greatest commotion


2.

It’s pointless to get involved
we all know that
drunks will always be drunks
and the heat from the burning barrel
is all they have
I mean I could step in
decide who is the coldest
who deserves the extra jacket
but I’m cold too
I’ve proven that martin
yes I am a lover
I do believe in it all
but I am tired
and there’s a bottle at my side
and I was never any good
at decision making
tonight
a fire in a barrel
offers more reward
then doing the right thing

arts and crafts

how i work

Samle page of martin poems. i use a typewriter. love it or hate it. it works for me.

you can trust the waves

you can trust the waves from Jake Hansen on Vimeo.

photos can't lie

there's something in colors

that inspire the enlightened

to find answers in secrets

and identities in clouds

You can't trust a guy who hides in shadows

I saw him and his wife in the airport

she looked like

she'd suck your dick

for money

but don't worry about that

i mean, he's not an architect

and he didn't design

those windows so narrow

In these times

we trusted the sun

our agenda:

be to the beach by the peak

otherwise we'd never get a spot

eat lunch inside when it is the hottest

shower and rest when it looks

like twilight is near

drink beer during the sunset

then read by the fire

until you fall asleep

occasionally i like to look up

when i've spent so much time

with my head in the sand

and things'll explode

in blazing purity

a white approved

by god and all his angels

trust me

you cannot lie

to these eyes

they release truth

and capture everything

really, look closer

you can see where

it all came from

and how it was sealed

this moment

to be destined to destroy

everything we used to know

god martin,

i wish i had any idea where to go

i've been lost in this factory for weeks

at first i was happy

watching the mechanics of machines

listening to the release of steam

its long metallic echoes

in a place too soon forgotten

I compare it to the time you played spoons for me

that memory passed a few days

your fingers were so nimble

and how shocking your palm was never sore

but what am i to do now

the power's been turned off

the machines no longer turn

and the steam no longer sings

so martin,

here i am

sitting on cold cement in the dark

water is dripping from the pipe above me

it's pool etching closer

and i have no idea where to go

dear martin,

i wanted you to know, i dreamt of my home town burning. it's tallest buidling crumbled to ahses. and i woke up missing you.

j.

winterglove

winterglove from Jake Hansen on Vimeo.

migrations

migrations from Jake Hansen on Vimeo.

dear martin,

i love it when you wear

that hat i hate.

j.

dear martin

currently i'm working on a series of poems i'm calling "My Martin Poems." every poem features a fictional character named martin. he takes the role a fictional ex lover. he is a confidant. he is the person in our lives we can say anything to. the poems are simple in their creations. i've avoided verbose language, cryptic symbols, and generally all poetic devices i spent years in college learning. they are bare they are stark. and i love them for this reason. at this point i have...well...a lot of them. here below are a few of my favorites.

1

dear martin

you’ll be glad to know things are really looking up

I bought a snow shovel today

and some canned spray

to denounce rusting

I really hate fading beauty

you should see it now though

how the metal shines

I stood it up next to my mirror

handle on the floor

it’s nice to reflect myself

from a different perspective

the people I live with

(oh how I try no to mention them)

ask if I’m ever going to clear the driveway

martin, you understand how foolish that would be

my shovel is so new

and these roads stretch so far

2

it’s on the roof

I am certain of that

just climb, climb, climb

I know it burns dear martin

all those flights to the top

but you’ll find it

I promise

you still trust me, right?

I know it’s hard, the way I left

I’d be mad to

you were waiting so wonderfully

hands crossed in the shade of the oak

you couldn’t help but smile

I never told you I was there

I saw you

thank you for the flowers

I hope you did not throw them out

but you can still trust me

I only lied that once

so please, my love, my martin

it’s waiting on the roof

all you have to do

is take the pain

and climb

3

things are looking grim

I searched the wreckage

even wore rubbers and a head lamp

still I could find nothing

not a drop of blood

not a button from your blouse

absolute destruction

you’d figure the sea would qualm the fires

and cotton burns so quickly

as the tides rushed over

and the bow sunk deeper

everything was on that boat martin

memory alone can’t keep you alive

I guess it’s my fault

I’m the one who left

but still, I loved our walks

anyway, after diving the wreck

I didn’t have money to pay the guide

so I scrubbed tanks

it was a hot day

you always mocked my sweat

4

this time I am realizing

how far from home I am

I wanted to wake up

to the sound of frying eggs

it should be you cooking them

instead I wake up to nothing

even my heater is silent

it’s hardly a feat of technology

remember the way you hummed in your sleep

of course you don’t

but you remember I told you

martin, can you see yet

those crimes were never crimes

and a sad Tuesday is much better

than a lonely Wednesday

A few films

I've begun experimenting with my two preferred mediums of art. photography and writing. everyone's a writer, everyone's a photographer. this i know. so bare with me. maybe i've done something fresh, maybe i like to think this.

the first project is called "Outside Her Door." this project was originally inspired by a film maker named chris marker and his film "la Jetee." at the time i saw it, i was just beginning to learn about photos. i was working in a dark room, and generally understood very little about what entailed a good photo. i had no understanding of light, shadows, framing, etc...also, i had not idea how difficult it would be to print 60 photos...anyway, i never finished the project. fast forward a few years. i now own a dslr, and the project became feasible. with the help of my good friends ross, mary soo, and brian, we took a day and did the photo shoot for the script i had written. as with most of my writings, the focus is love and loneliness. i've become craftier with hiding the utter starkness of it's roots, and have learned to create some characters to express my own insecurities on the topics.

the second short film is in the same vein. it has no title. it's short. it's a short video i shot with my students as they made christmas cards in class. i thought the footage was kind of pretty. so, i wrote a poem complimenting it. this is a medium i want to explore more as well. video taping things, writing poems about said things.

anyway, watch them if you'd like.

j.

Outside Her Door from jake Hansen on Vimeo.

colors and from jake Hansen on Vimeo.

a poetic start

A poetic phase. It has begun. the world shifts and while i occupy the same space within it, my mind rotates back to where it enjoys settling the most. on a poetic phase. the world is more beautiful this way.

today my phrase is:

things are harder

now that you've gone

it only takes a few words for me to be moved. the emotion and story backed by the utter complexities of the simplicity of life are enough to bring me to my knees. maybe i want to cry here. maybe i want to sing. if there's a god, he exists in between the poetic phrases. these spaces, the silent spaces, are what we call love, faith, and trust. we wish we could find words to express the way we love the things we love. but we cannot. words cannot capture the spaces between the poetic phrases. so, we are left with the poetic phrases. the emotions the hang above our heads, the concoction of a deeper understanding.

the aim of this blog is not to update my daily life. not to focus on the cultural differences of america and korea. it's not outlandish, no, it's quite expected korea and all it's oddities will find it's way into this blog, but it will never be the focus point.

this blog is a way of sharing art. of sharing what matters most to me. entries are never guaranteed, but will come as often as they can. this, i do promise.