Wednesday, November 16, 2016

There are two ways to escape



The inferno of the living is not something that will be; if there is one, it is what is already here, the inferno where we live every day, that we form by being together. There are two ways to escape suffering it. The first is easy for many: accept the inferno and become such a part of it that you can no longer see it. The second is risky and demands constant vigilance and apprehension: seek and learn to recognize who and what, in the midst of inferno, are not inferno, then make them endure, give them space.


Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities

Thursday, November 10, 2016

An American Tragedy:Let me recite what history teaches. History teaches




Stein 100A Feather Likeness of the Justice Chair
A feather table: reckless gratitude.
It is that-there that means best.
White the green grinding trimming thing!
The disgrace, like stripes.
More selection, slighter intention.
Rosewood stationing is use journey: curious dusty empty length.
Winged cake: the cake, the plan that neglects to make color certainly.
Time long could winter: elegant consequences monstrous.
So much and guided holders garments are—and arrangements.
Staring then that when sudden same time's necessary, that circular
same's more necessary, not actually aching.
And why special?
Not left straw, the chain's the missing, was white winningly and occasion's entirely strings.
Reason is sullenness: it's there that practices left when six into
nothing narrow, resolute, suggests all beside that plain seam.
Pencils, mutton, asparagus: the table there.
There reddening is not to change that in such absurd surroundings.
Considering clearly, a feather's large second heat is there.
There that thing which smells that whistles that there's denial,
difference, surfeit-dated choices--everything trembling imitation.
Imitation?—imitation is a joy gurgle.
Best bent, likely disappointed.
Cake season's not more than most.
That cake makes no larder likely.
Not a single protection is even temporarily standing.
Sugar and lard there are sudden and shaming.
That single set comes orderly.
There the remarkable witness made no more settlement than blessing.
Increase the way steak colored coffee.
Wheatly that music half-noisy.
Reason's decline is not a little grainy.
This means taste where toe-washing is reasonable.
Salmon carriage?—action hanging.
Scene bits and this nervous draught don't satisfy elevation,
There is no change.
Much was temporary behind that center and much was formerly charming.
Then the then-triumphant showed their disagreeable hidden worries.
The chair asked the speech be repeated, supposing attention-resemblance.
It is just summer.
Another section has a light likeness to pedestrianism.
Which is light?
That used this there.
The chair's justice: nothing-colored mercy.
No, perhaps some is likely.
That is not a genuine bargain.
There preparation so suits white bands' singing and redness that the same sight's a simpler splendor.
No, not the same.
Wishing the same is not quite the same as a different arrangement.
Any measure washed is brighter than an occasional string set.
A precocious nothing discolors that extract sooner than showing its starting.
A bag place chain room winningly reasons with shining hair.
What with supposing without protection, no wound is sudden.
Coloring sullenness rushes bottom reason in gilded country.
What if it shows?
Necessarily, the whole thing there is shining.
Is that anything?
More single women stitch tickets.
To show difference exudes reliability.
Inside that large silver likeness, Hope tables thick coal.
Coal makes morning furnaces darker,
Joy and success are exceptions.
Four suggest a sadder surrender.
Pretence and cheaper influences are staining tender Pride there.
Sort out that little sink.
Why is the size of the baking remainder something that resembles light more than cutting?
This cheese is more calm than anything solitary.
It is still an occasion for bottom anticipation.
Reason's season cracked that which was ripe.
Nearly all were neglected by blessing, not without nervous actions.
He's readily beginning to seed the cheese and estrange the Whites.
The celery curled its lashes at the slam.
Not-so-heated reason will be little able to satisfy another.
This was formerly much used as a charming chair.
Pedestrianism showed itself triumphant and disagreeable.
That which was hidden worried them.
They asked that her speech be repeated.
Summer light bears a likeness to justice.
Then the light is supposing attention.
That section has a resemblance to light.

Is it a likeness of the justice chair?


And this: The New Yorker: An American Tragedy

Poem:Stein 100: A Feather Likeness of the Justice Chair
Title/Quote: Gertrude Stein

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

Mourning in America






Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. 


W.H. Auden

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE.....

Missing her already...

Reposted from Cup of Jo: 

Michelle Obama brought down the house with her speech last night at the Democratic National Convention. Twelve hours later, it’s still giving us goosebumps. Did you watch? What an inspiration to hear the first lady speak eloquently, strongly and, most of all, optimistically, about our country and the presidency. Here are a few memorable quotes: 

“When someone is cruel or acts like a bully, you don’t stoop to their level. No, our motto is, ‘When they go low, we go high.’ ”
“I wake up every morning in a house that was built by slaves. And I watch my daughters, two beautiful, intelligent, black young women, playing with their dogs on the White House lawn. And because of Hillary Clinton, my daughters and all our sons and daughters now take for granted that a woman can be president of the United States.”
“When you have the nuclear codes at you fingertips and military at your command, you can’t make snap decisions. You can’t have thin skin or a tendency to lash out. You need to be steady and well-informed. I want a president with a record of public service, someone whose life work shows our children we don’t chase fame and fortune for ourselves.”
“In this election, we cannot sit back and hope that everything works out for the best. We cannot afford to be tired or frustrated or cynical. No, hear me. Between now and November, we need to do what we did eight years ago and four years ago. We need to knock on every door, we need to get out every vote, we need to pour every last ounce of our passion and our strength and our love for this country into electing Hillary Clinton as president of the United States of America!”

Friday, July 15, 2016

People Reluctant To Kill for an Abstraction




We are many. We are worldwide. We, in fact, outnumber you. Though you are louder, though you create a momentary ripple on the water of life, we will endure, and prevail.


Manifesto, 

Thursday, July 14, 2016

War Widows

In Cambodia, War Widows Share Their Stories Through Art


Many believe in the stars.   


   Take Quinamid   
The son of a Dardanian astrologer   
Who disregarded what his father said   
And came to Troy in a taxi.   

Gone.   

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Give Us A Poem

Give Us A Poem, 2007

Born and raised in the Bronx, Glenn Ligon grew up taking art classes at the Metropolitan Museum of Art while learning about identity politics through the racism and discrimination toward homosexuality that he encountered in New York. He combines this formal art education and complex personal history to create emotionally charged works that convey challenging messages. In his 1993 Whitney Biennial contribution, Notes on the Margin of the Black Book (1991–93), for example, Ligon paired images and text to satirically comment on literary and visual representations of the black male body. Whether constructed from neon lights, coal dust, glitter, paint, or photographs, Ligon’s work fluctuates between humor and startling honesty, reminding viewers that intolerance remains ubiquitous. 

The Freedom Principle: Experiments in Art and Music, 1965 to Now at MCA Chicago


Tuesday, June 14, 2016



"Great things end. Small things endure. Society must become united again instead of so disjointed. Just look at nature and you'll see that life is simple. We must go back to where we were, to the point where we took the wrong turn. We must go back to the main foundations of life without dirtying the water. What kind of world is this if a madman tells you you must be ashamed of yourselves!"
 - Andrei Tarkovsky and Tonino Guerra
Domenico's speech from the 1983 film Nostalghia


Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Corrected Love Letters: LENKA CLAYTON



LENKA CLAYTON

Corrected Love Letters

2015 / found, altered love letter / 3 sheets of airmail paper, 6" x 9" each
Found love letters from the mid 20th century, given to contemporary English professors to correct for grammar, spelling, form and style. 
Letter (above) written in 1943 by Ed. Corrected in 2015 by Erin Anderson, Assistant Professor of English, University of Massachusetts Boston.
ALL WORK

Monday, January 11, 2016

UNLOADED


A City Without Guns. Jennifer Nagle Meyers. 2014.

 This spring Suzanne Slavick, Andrew W. Mellon Professor of Art at Carnegie Mellon University, curated an exhibition at SPACE with a singular theme, guns. On view through April 26th, UNLOADED features 19 artists at a variety of career trajectories from international and national locales both east and west and points between, including Pittsburgh based artists. The topic is approached with a mixture of methods and media encompassing printmaking, painting, sculpture, video and film. Collectively, the work on view either directly illustrates our culture’s obsession with guns via photography, reflects and critiques the pervasiveness of guns and their consequences by reconfiguring common imagery and ideas from the media, or offers personal accounts and reflections of the experience of guns and gun violence.

In Jennifer Nagle Meyers’ nuanced piece, A City Without Guns (2014 – ongoing), the artist collected branches and sticks naturally shaped like guns (perhaps recalling Claes Oldenburg’s legendary Ray Gun collection) and mounted them in an oval arrangement on the wall. The piece establishes the dialogue between nature and culture, calling to mind hunter/gatherer societies. Obviously, when we think of guns, we associate them with culture and the human-made, so when we see Meyers’ ‘natural guns’ they are no longer instruments of destruction. Instead, they become more about environment as we look at the shape, color and the type of wood and its innate aesthetic qualities. Like mimesis in reverse, Meyers transformed these sticks and branches into abstracted things of beauty while also imitating manufactured objects, a parallel to how gun culture fetishizes guns.


Saturday, September 12, 2015

Greetings from my Girlie Leisure Place

Greetings from 's girlie leisure place. (Preorders will start this week. Stay tuned.)

Thursday, June 4, 2015

There isn’t any



The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it: “No room! No room!” they cried out when they saw Alice coming. “There’s plenty of room!” said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.
“Have some wine,” the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.
Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. “I don’t see any wine,” she remarked.
“There isn’t any,” said the March Hare.
image: COLETTE SAINT YVES
text: New Yorker

Sunday, May 24, 2015

the whole sky





Once Uncle Julian told me how the sculptor and painter Alberto Giacometti said that sometimes just to paint a head you have to give up the whole figure. To paint a leaf, you have to sacrifice the whole landscape. It might seem like you’re limiting yourself at first, but after a while you realize that having a quarter-of-an-inch of something you have a better chance of holding on to a certain feeling of the universe than if you pretended to be doing the whole sky. 

text: Nicole Krauss, The History of Love

image: Toward the Blue Peninsula, Joseph Cornell 
1951-52 (120 Kb); Construction, 10 5/8 x 14 15/16 x 3 15/16 in; Collection Daniel Varenne, Geneva

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

A GLITTERING






One mourner says if I can just get through this year as if salvation comes in January.

Slow dance of suicides into the earth:

I see no proof there is anything else. I keep my obituary current, but believe that good times are right around the corner

Una grande scultura posse rotolare giù per una collina senza rompersi, Michelangelo is believed to have said (though he never did): To determine the essential parts of a sculpture, roll it down a hill. The inessential parts will break off.

That hill, graveyard of the inessential, is discovered by the hopeless and mistaken for the world just before they mistake themselves for David's white arms.

They are wrong. But to assume oneself essential is also wrong: a conundrum.

To be neither essential nor inessential - not to exist except as the object of someone's belief, like those good times lying right around the corner - is the only possibility.

Nothing, nobody matters.

And yet the world is full of love
 

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Why all this music?





To be alive: not just the carcass
But the spark.
That's crudely put, but . . .

If we're not supposed to dance,
Why all this music?
 

 Detail from Earth and Hell in "Apokaluptein."

Thursday, January 1, 2015

when everything else is gone




“Lost really has two disparate meanings. Losing things is about the familiar falling away, getting lost is about the unfamiliar appearing. There are objects and people that disappear from your sight or knowledge or possession; you lose a bracelet, a friend, the key. You still know where you are. Everything is familiar except that there is one item less, one missing element. Or you get lost, in which case the world has become larger than your knowledge of it. Either way, there is a loss of control. Imagine yourself streaming through time shedding gloves, umbrellas, wrenches, books, friends, homes, names. This is what the view looks like if you take a rear-facing seat on the train. Looking forward you constantly acquire moments of arrival, moments of realization, moments of discovery. The wind blows your hair back and you are greeted by what you have never seen before. The material falls away in onrushing experience. It peels off like skin from a molting snake. Of course to forget the past is to lose the sense of loss that is also memory of an absent richness and a set of clues to navigate the present by; the art is not one of forgetting but letting go. And when everything else is gone, you can be rich in loss.”


 Rebecca SolnitA Field Guide to Getting Lost
imagE

Sunday, June 29, 2014

interval between nothing and nothing





“And all this is just a vision that dies the instant it is conceived, a fleeting interval
between nothing and nothing, placed on high, prolix and undefined, painted in the colours of heaven and of grief.”


Fernando Pessoa writing on an autumn sunset | The Book of Disquiet | pg. 73

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Dreams prolong us

Why be unhappy with this arrangement, since
Dreams prolong us as they are absorbed?
Something like living occurs, a movement
Out of the dream into its codification.


John Ashbery

Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

so this is the sound of you

http://stephaniemccullar.tumblr.com/

"With what stillness at last
you appear in the valley
your first sunlight reaching down
to touch the tips of a few
high leaves that do not stir
as though they had not noticed
and did not know you at all
then the voice of a dove calls
from far away in itself
to the hush of the morning

so this is the sound of you
here and now whether or not
anyone hears it this is
where we have come with our age
our knowledge such as it is
and our hopes such as they are
invisible before us
                            untouched and still possible"



– W. S. Merwin, " To the New Year"

image