If you want some loving, that I can give to you. And if you want some hugging, said I can hug some, too.
All I want, baby, now is some thought of you and just a little of your attention you know, will see me through.(yes, yes - me through)
‘Cause you know, that you’re my kind And I want you to forever be mine OW! I idolize you (yes, she idolize you) You know I idolize you (yes, she idolize you)
I would like to make love to you When the lights are low (yes, yes down low) And I would like to scream to you baby Just so I can let you know (yes, yes you know)
And all I want baby now Is some thoughts of you And just a little bit of attention You know will see me through (yes, yes me through)
‘cause you know that you’re my kind And I want you to forever be mine OW! I idolize you (yes she idolize you) You know, I idolize you (yes she idolize you)
If you want me to beg to you I’ll forget my pride (yes, yes my pride) I’m not ashamed of you baby And I have nothing to hide (yes, yes to hide)
‘Cause all I want baby now Is some small part of you And just a little of your attention You know will see me through (yes, yes me through)
‘cause you know that you’re my kind And I want you to forever be mine OW! I idolize you (yes she idolize you) You know, I idolize you (yes she idolize you)
Oohhhhhh baby Oh I idolize you (yes, she idolize) I know I know I know I know I idolize you Oooooh (yes she idolize you) Come on Come on Come on come on come on come on baby You know I idolize you (yes, she idolize you) Ohhhhhhh
My love she speaks like silence Without ideals or violence She doesn't have to say she's faithful Yet she's true, like ice, like fire People carry roses And make promises by the hours My love she laughs like the flowers Valentines can't buy her.
In the dime stores and bus stations People talk of situations Read books, repeat quotations Draw conclusions on the wall Some speak of the future My love she speaks softly She knows there's no success like failure And that failure's no succes at all.
The cloak and dagger dangles Madams light the candles In ceremonies of the horsemen Even the pawn must hold a grudge Statues made of match sticks Crumble into one another My love winks, she does not bother She knows too much to argue or to judge.
The bridge at midnight trembles The country doctor rambles Bankers' nieces seek perfection Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring The wind howls like a hammer The night blows rainy My love she's like some raven At my window with a broken wing.
I'm banging on my drum, I'm banging on my drum I'm banging on my drum, boy, I'm having lot's of fun I'm banging on my drum, Yeah, I'm banging on my drum I'm banging on my drum, now baby, and I'm having lot's of fun
I'm banging on my drum, I'm banging on my drum I'm banging on my drum, boy, I'm having lot's of fun I'm banging on my one, my one, my drum ... Dog's got a bone, all of his own Wednesday morning, middle of the road Can't help this feeling, of feeling so alone Gotta go home now, dog's got a bone now.
Listen you will see, coming on in to me Listen you will see, coming on in to me Listen you will see that we are climbing Listen you will see that we are climbing
Wish you were here, tied to the pier Words disappear, every time you call me So won't you come home now If you're feeling so alone now Dog's got a bone, all of his own now
Listen you will see, coming on in to me Listen you will see, coming on in to me Listen you will see that we are climbing Listen you will see that we are climbing
Listen you will see, coming on in to me Listen you will see, coming on in to me Listen you will see that we are climbing Listen you will see that we are climbing
Yeah, do, do, do, do (repeated) Falling on your face with a little white safe
Now, this here story is the story of John Exczeuter Muthor Smoke, And its for his Mom, its about his Mom, Its about the Chicken Ranch they had in Southern Utah, Any they grown the fingernail of a nun, like I have spoken to you before, This song is with love, its for love, its about love, its a negating love, Its with hate,its not about hate, its love, love is love, And its about John.E Smoke and his Mom and the baby they had. Johnny was a little lesbian midget boy, but he stood ten foot tall with a thermo-nuclear device. Johnny left home before he was born. A huge Indian teepee had appeared out of Johnnys earlobe, He didnt know why. It spoke French and half-Dutch, Perhaps the teepee was from Belgium, We dont know. All of a sudden Johnny had no reasoning His life was a tremglescwitch What is a tremglescwitch? A way of life that Johnny only knew And there was no telling how much he knew or how little Because Johnny was a lesbian, A shoplifter, A drag queen, And a surgeon, A heart surgeon of love. Pretty soon Johnny was a Chinese Emporer He owned seventeen 7-11s which were convenince stores, Known only in the United States. Johnny sold cocaine, marujuana and alcohol, A lot of things Johnny said he didnt understand himself, When a tattoo of Jesus on his chest would occaisionally rise three feet above his body, And play poker with him, Not knowing what to do, Johnny would bid high, Jesus would raise him a little, Johnny would come back and say, "What have ya got Christ" Christ would say "The Ace of Spades" Johnny was confused again A lot of litagation went down Johnny became a black person, Then an Indian, And wandered through California, Got him a trip.............
Still havent figured out whats so good about the Seurat drawings. Someone I know who knows a lot said they are some of the best drawings of the 20th cent. but Im not sure why he thought that. Gradation is not granularity folks.
N-E-way--my picks for the best work posted 2007 (not the best comments, that would be stupid)..."That's What I call painting": Neo Rausch, Kathe Burkhart, Eliott Hundley & Rebecca Morris. I have to reach back to 12-06 and give props to Thornton Willis--that's a beautiful painting as are all his.
Yeah I don;t get it. Nostalgia for gasslight and fog? Steampunk wannabees? Europhiles? Bustle fetishists? We covered it all to no avail.
If you look at the paper though, as i mentioned, you realize it was made on a screen, hand made, out of cotton rag I presume, so maybe theres this idea that the warp and woof or whatever is all innit like belly button lint or toe jam. I mean people do get all metaphorical and poetic, just not me, not now.
I had a paper making class that was so dull and uninformative (it was called experimental printmaking materials fetish 101) that the class revolted, much to the consternation of the professor, who's alcoholic husband was the burnout bane of the photography department (go nude get an a - no help there either, and I was scratching into the negative and everything).
The upshot being, this is the sort of work small backwater colleges love because it doesn't challenge anything other than maybe your status anxieties and patience.
I am clinicly interested in pancreatic enzymes right now. Apparently lack of them causes undigested carbs to ferment in the bowels. This can be extremely painfull to family members (not for me though - I love passing gas more than anything sometimes).
I love the game though, but I guess you have to be a rock star to make a living at it.
If you like to gamble, I tell you I'm your man You win some, lose some, it's -all- the same to me The pleasure is to play, it makes no difference what you say I don't share your greed, the only card I need is The Ace Of Spades The Ace Of Spades
Playing for the high one, dancing with the devil, Going with the flow, it's all a game to me, Seven or Eleven, snake eyes watching you, Double up or quit, double stake or split, The Ace Of Spades The Ace Of Spades
You know I'm born to lose, and gambling's for fools, But that's the way I like it baby, I don't wanna live for ever, And don't forget the joker!
Pushing up the ante, I know you've got to see me, Read 'em and weep, the dead man's hand again, I see it in your eyes, take one look and die, The only thing you see, you know it's gonna be, The Ace Of Spades The Ace Of Spades
Where the marking media meets the grid of the paper. That's nice and all. it's just that contemporary limitations leave the grid behind. So it seems quaint, dont it?
Where are your limitations, and where is your freedom, and where do they meet, and are you in control of that place?
Best post on Seurat's drawing... congradulations emil!!! you win!
those drawings have flipped my lid ever since undergrad. They have an incredible command of value and the edge quality between shapes make you see the values as powerful statements thta are nearly colorful. It seems he was able in the drawings to make greys glow with more light than the whites! the lady's dress is like a glowing coal...those fucking edge shifts! Wow. In any other person's drawing the silhouettes would feel fuzzy but in the seurat world of comparison they make such a strong statement. Sorry for the prolonged wet spot on my keyboard but the work is for real this time.
Prize: There is no prize for getting it right. happy holidays
Edge quality and value just seems quaint too, and the dress does not seem like a glowing coal. A glowing coal might be of interest. the only thing i like about these drawings is the shimmer. which may have meant something once, but is no longer relevant, seems like a trick. Looking for the trick that defines today. Looking for the place where self meets system.
Since Seurat died in 1891, hard to see how he would figure in 20th century drawing.
But fuzz tone can get you depth and volume without line. You grade fine enough you're talking particles of some kind - unless you're into string theory, in which case go straight to Lautrec.
Anybody going to bid on the Magna Charta? I'd love to do a drawing on it.
he "End of Greatness" is an observational scale discovered at roughly 100 Mpc (roughly 300 million lightyears) where the lumpiness seen in the large-scale structure of the universe is homogenized and isotropized as per the Cosmological Principle. The superclusters and filaments seen in smaller surveys are randomized to the extent that the smooth distribution of the universe is visually apparent. It wasn't until the redshift surveys of the 1990s were completed that this scale could accurately be observed.
I'm with No Rush, put me at the PCH and Sunset and let me hitch north to the county line and I'll be happy.
Seurat makes me happy, but not as happy as the Pacific makes me.
This blog is dead, almost one month on this post and 231 comments, less than ten a day, better than most for sure, but this thing should be fresh fresh fresh.
Maybe there could be guest contributors to help carry the load (I'm sure its not easy).
for me it means a hand gets a share in the pot for having the lowest card highest card any jack or winning the hand in the normal poker fashion so that the pot might get divided from 3 to 7 ways depending on; how many jacks turn up. Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days of auld lang syne? And days of auld lang syne, my dear, And days of auld lang syne. Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days of auld lang syne? We twa hae run aboot the braes And pu'd the gowans fine. Sin' auld lang syne. Sin' auld lang syne, my dear, Sin' auld lang syne, Sin' auld lang syne. Sin' auld lang syne, my dear, Sin' auld lang syne. But seas between us braid hae roared Sin' auld lang syne. And ther's a hand, my trusty friend, And gie's a hand o' thine; We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne. nce that would be the same as having the high hand. while I can;t remember it shedding any direct light on the questions at issue, for those interested in the subject The Education of a Poker Player by Herbert Yardley, presents an interesting outlook on the game of poker that was forged in the saloon games of the Old West where he cut his teeth as a house dealer
Quaint? No longer relevant?? Seems like a trick???
Since he died in 1891, hard to see how he would figure in 20th century drawing????
What?
I don't understand any of this. A great drawing is great. It's not relevant? I don't even know what that means. I must not be relevant.
There's nothing dated or quaint about this drawing. It is remarkable for transcending a way of making a drawing that should be boring, that should be predictable, contained, oppressively stylized, precious and saccharine. It should be all those things, but it is not. Instead its delicate bits of dust mysteriously align to reveal a kind of toughness rarely seen, at once beautiful and nearly frightening.
Conte Crayon Nomi. COnte Crayon. Dated. Quaint. Retorgrade. Memories of backwater vicissitudes and dingy weltenshuangs.
If you insist on conte crayon you are as enslaved as as any victorian chimney sweep or boot black.
I'm not fundamentally opposed to the reification of the power structure by celebrating the privileged, but clearly, Seraut is no great talent, his pointilist gimick notwithstanding.
As I pointed out obliquely earlier, his color theory has precedent in earlier color theories, and his extreme impressionism isn't in fact much more than taking something that existed and making it explicit through sweat - rote repetition is something I detest as an aristocrat . Like sex, a good artist does indeed function as a distiller of spirits - but to mount such a creature upon a pedestal and declair - as many do - that this is in fact a great work of art is to perhaps have one's tastes firmy aligned with the forces of banal conservativism and regressive politics.
In short, unless one resorts to my free associative ramblings on granulartity, this sample is deadly dull. And I did see the show. GO downstairs and look at the african stuff. In light of Roberta Smith's recent review of Rodin in Baltimore at the BAM, I must say its a sight more interesting - though thinking of sculpture as 3-dee drawing is a concept that hardly moves me at all.
Eight miles high and when you touch down You'll find that it's stranger than known Signs in the street that say where you're going Are somewhere just being their own Nowhere is there warmth to be found Among those afraid of losing their ground Rain gray town known for its sound In places small faces unbound Round the squares huddled in storms Some laughing some just shapeless forms Sidewalk scenes and black limousines Some living, some standing alone Ice on the wings and we were flying Sand in our eyes but we were seeing Below us a crowd that wasn't buying Watching us pass and not believing No one else has seen the sights that crossed our eyes Everything beyond these purple skies No longer gone, we're back again No longer gone, we were dead but now returned No longer gone, though the tides are standing still No longer gone, and our bridges are still burning Marks on the floor where we were laying Better explain what I'm saying
thanks for such an insightful critique! Less an opinion. It is not the artists' sweat but rather her role. Granularity=information. Bechtle is a genius. Conte Crayon is that which lay beneath my skin. LEBEN MIT POP "Criticism will have no effect" Professor Paul P.P. Connoisseur
nice xmas carol zip. never thought of it that way, but it fits.
Of course seurat was establishing the tricks of the trade of his time. so I have nothing against him, just wondering how to move it into the present. I was thinking it meant we need to establish our own tricks, but like games, I get tired of the tricks. The whole thing is a trick that dies right in your hand these days.
Like professor Tina t. I do like the intrapersonal games. I'm searching for that boundless pedestal that we all fit on. It only exists in my mind for now.
Jason Rhodes is cool with the slobby thing but seems to be off base with the americana. I think the place that's really got the black pussy going is Cuba. Not for long im sure.
They were so quiet. They just came right up on us. They were quick. The dogs had no clue. They didn't smell them or hear them — nothing. I was rainbowing my pepper spray, and they fell back a little bit. There must be some kind of way out of here Said the joker to the thief Theres too much confusion I cant get no relief Businessman they drink my wine Plow men dig my earth None will level on the line Nobody of it is worth Hey hey But as soon as we would turn our backs to try to go, they would run up on us, and we would turn around and start screaming again, and I would spray my pepper spray. We just kept pulling, and they were so big, and they started howling, and they were circling us. And it got us really panicked, and we kept screaming. No reason to get excited The thief he kindly spoke There are many here among us Who feel that life is but a joke but uh But you and I weve been through that And this is not our fate So let us not talk falsely now The hours getting late Hey Hey I love my dog with all my heart, but I can't jeopardize my friends. And if that's what they wanted, I didn't know whether to leave him. My dog was attacked by the wolves, three wolves, He fought his way out as I was pulling. They were not afraid of us, And I'm afraid that if I was out here by myself, they would attack me. They were not afraid. All along the watchtower Princes kept the view While all the women came and went Bare-foot servants to, but huh Outside in the cold distance A wild cat did growl Two riders were approachin And the wind began to howl Hey Oh If they figure out that dogs are easy to kill, and good food for them, then they can just come to the conclusion that there is a lot more dogs than moose, and 'Let's just start eating the dogs for now, m not sure they have quite reached that point, but they are working on that concept right now. All along the watchtower Hear you sing around the watch Gotta beware gotta beware I will Yeah Ooh baby All along the watchtower The wolves stopped attacking when key pack members were trapped and killed.
Intricately detailed, and with a seeming aversion to empty space, the pictures are dense mazes made up of tiny, delicate incidents and beings, creating compositions that feel woven rather than painted. This cathartic process continued for six months. It has been compared to the Catholic concept of Purgatory. Additionally, the system of thought in his theological writings is remarkably coherent pastiche - Whereas pastiche used to be a humorous literary style, it has, in postmodernism, become "devoid of laughter"; In the postmodern era has become a "dead language", without any political or historical content, and so has also become unable to satirize in any effective way. Like state troopers on a highway, these scientists used a "speed gun" to clock clumps of hot iron gas whipping around a black hole at 20,000 miles per second. That's over 10 percent of light speed. At this speed, you could get to the moon in about 10 seconds.
Have I mentioned that I've started a series of drawings made with conte crayon and that it's awesome?
Also, I met with Painter at a secret location and was asked to pass along that the world "relevant" has been banned from this blog. I'm just the messenger.
so defeated thinks it's funny Film festival Retro porn Shabby chic biCostal Soundtrack Carnivore Transgressive gone fishin' Shock Value Good Contract Big Collection Independant Devil's Advocate Proteg? Ooooooooh! Ooooooooh! Ooooooooh! Oooooooooooooh!
Hawaiian Shirt Buddy buddy Just Chillin' Crystal Meth Big Budget Dirty Hair Anti PC Dive Bar Universal Hilton Safari Euro Connection Topless Now obscore reference Likes Parties fake Childhood muscle Tee Ooooooooh! Ooooooooh! Ooooooooh! Oooooooooooooh! outstandinbg"
banning-ironic ribs-dead or alive-humor.cheekiness.mfa dribble.mfa drool.mfa diarrhea.educational injaculation.me.cest tout.gonna have une cigarette.loves.gones.maybe im crazy. member that?I have a healing center heer,very cheep-we do chile enema,etc
indeed, let us deflate or inflate the boundaries! In the absolescence of new images, and not knowing, or indeed being without further information, visual or otherwise, I conjecture, and knowingly, against the day, or for the night, apres la nuit, avant le letre, I went to the Comet, in Seattle, still a bike messenger bar, just down the hill from Swedish Hospital, being chockabloc full of bad art, but also, serendipitously, two Jacob Lawrence prints!
The Comet, containing nothing or other, still a dive, or a leap, back, won;t be fooled again, threading the haystack, bridging over the milk, and wondering what to infestigate next. Extispicy!
A surgeon, becoming more skilled, wears the burden of failures past, practice, I must assume, in artists, reaching for perfect. Or nearly so well wishing.
I was crawling through a festival way out west I was thinking about love and the acid test But first I got real dizzy with a real rocking gang Then I saw the Coma Girl and the excitement gang And the rain came in from the wide blue yonder Through all the stages I wandered Coma Girl and the excitement gang Mona Lisa on the motorcycle gang Coma Girl Coma Girl Coma Girl was beating with the Oil Drum gang Some fast food fanatic was burning down the burger van Somebody was wailing off their head Nobody was ripping the teen scene dead And the rain came in from the wide blue yonder I thought you and me might wander As the 19th hour was falling upon Desolation Row Some outlaw band had the last drop on the go Let’s siphon up some gas let’s get this show on the road Said the Coma Girl to the excitement gang Into action everybody sprang The oil drums were beating out dulang dulang Coma Girl and the excitement gang Mona Lisa on the motorcycle gang Coma Girl Coma Girl
what are the issues? Flat tax? Health care? The Dark Lord? Domestic spending? Brand Equity? Jingoism? Hemlines? Shape shifting boogiemen? Jenny Craig? Viagra? Gene splicing? Blue Tooth for everyone?
I don't know where Hillary stands on many issues, and it behooves me to learn - but yeah, Hillary is the soccer Mom's candidate - validates the hair gel look but also, I love the lucky? brocaide (should have epaulettes) looking jacket she wears for special occasions. Might change the way families migrate together and shit.
We are now faced with a curious situation in which meaning has become so detached from itself that its central collapse defines much of the art of our time -- to the point where the ‘will’ to meaning often deliberately courts meaninglessness and even finds satisfaction in it. No man lives within his own psychic sphere like a snail in its shell, separated from everybody else, but is connected with his fellow-minds - by his unconscious humanity. God as an omnipotent clockmaker standing outside and apart from his creation. The element of design in mechanistic philosophy did not arise from ‘the “natures” of things but from the properties with which God endowed them’. A divine creator implies a dependence of the created on a creator, and also a differentiation between creator and created. Human beings had a special role to play due to being made in God’s image; this further emphasized their separation from the rest of creation. The development of capitalism promulgated the view that nature was a commodity or a resource to be used. Although mechanistic theories did not go unchallenged, particularly by Vitalism, a radical analysis by Paracelsus of the activity in nature whereby matter and spirit were unified into an single, active, vital substance, and also by the academic disciplines of botany and zoology, Descartes’ views have been influential.
Rain, fall, and I will give you my kid. He has a 'black head', he neither bleats Nor complains; he says not, 'I am cold.' Rain, who filiest the skins, Wet our raiment. Rain, who feedest the rivers, Overturn the doors of our houses.
When you want to accurately paint a bird flying, the key is how straight the wing is and the angle of the wing’s edge. : knowing the bone count in a bird’s foot, and how many toes face foward or back;enables you to position its foot correctly in any position when painting it. :when looking at an animal’s legs, remember to think about what you’re looking at;Is it an ankle, knee or hip Legs have threa joints; hip, knee and anklet he knee a lot higher than what you think at stomach level and the ankle where you’d expect a knee;get to know how many colors you can create using three primaries. The fewer primary colors you use in a painting, the more ‘hurmonious" the result.
Are you short changing yourself from the best attributes of wine by drinking it at the incorrect temperature? Think twice before getting ice.
If there is a beverage that has survived the ages and just seems to get better with time, it is wine. Ancient writers such as Ovid wrote, "When there is plenty of wine, sorry and worry take wing." In the 17th century, Shakespeare extolled wine's virtues when he penned, "Good wine is a familiar creature if it be well used." And, in recent times, medical research has pleased the enophile stating that red wine in moderation is good for the ticker.
What is not as evident is the best temperature to drink wine. Indeed, it is probably the single most misunderstood concept about wine.
BEWARE OF fuckinCOMMERCIAL AFDBS since you should trust no one always construct your AFDB yourself to avoid the risk of subversion and mental enslavement sometimes AFDBs will be sold on places like ebay or somethingdo not purchase these pre/made AFDBs even if the seller seems trustworthy they may contain backdoors and pinholes,integrated psychotronic circuitry or other methods that actually pramote mind control aMIGA AND shit LINuX UsERS it is advised that you get a copy of mindguard for your personal antipsychotronic needs although an AadFdb is a fuckin effective guard against most forms of psychotronic stuff
The warrior of the future, to elude thermal imaging devices at night and in cooler weather, should obtain a metalized "space" blanket and a wool blanket. The freedom fighter should form a hood with the space blanket over your head and allow the rest of the material to drop over your back. Wrap the rest of the space blanket around to your front forming a poncho. Make certain the space blanket fits over your slung rifle and gear. Also make certain that a slit is formed in the front of your space blanket poncho to allow you to thrust your arms through for work or for firing your rifle at low flying drones cyborgs or robots.
Certain electromagnetic fields can influence the human brain. Weapons are in development that create electromagnetic fields that induce a sence of apathy, depression, and a state of surrender in the human mind. Your space blanket is effective in negating such fields, as well; however; if you notice that such weapons are being deployed, it would be prudent to vacate the area, employ a faraday caged electromagnetic safe structure or ground your space blanket.
I regret the failure of socialism. That's what Meyer Shapiro said just before he died. I can't improve on it. That's a lifetime regret. Regrets from 2007 include a chronic failure to look at art without thinking of what I'll say about it. I regret that the voice in my head is my own.
Synchronicity is the experience of two or more events which occur in a meaningful manner, but which are causally unrelated. In order to be synchronous, the events must be related to one another conceptually, and the chance that they would occur together by random chance must be very small.
Apophenia is the experience of seeing patterns or connections in random or meaningless data. The term was coined in 1958 by Klaus Conrad, who defined it as the "unmotivated seeing of connections" accompanied by a "specific experience of an abnormal meaningfulness".
Allusive substitutions are as old as English: see kenning. Allusion is an economical device, a figure of speech that draws upon the ready stock of ideas or emotion already associated with a topic in a relatively short space. Thus, an allusion is understandable only to those with prior knowledge of the covert reference in question. (See cultural literacy.)
"In a metalepsis, a word is substituted metonymically for a word in a previous trope, so that a metalepsis can be called, maddeningly but accurately, a metonymy of a metonymy."
Ninety nine pieces like humpty dumpty nobody can eat fitty, except in an omelette with a mimosa, like the hipsters on sunday hey man, you're motherfuckin fuckin captain Barbosa yeah yeah yeah like cokies place, no hope in dope, Mr. Narrator, The numerous instances where he has used the lines "I drop bombs like Hiroshima" are omitted. I'm One Zero so you know you gotta be a hero. Instances doesn;t ryme with dime, but you know, now it's done like a spare tire. Don;t shoot till you see the whites of their eyes.
up against the wall motherfuckers! Its hawaii five-o looking for your bible making you tai bo shake shake shake for survival sounds so slow but its automatic trigger happy tidal. No problems last forever too clever fox in the weather - cold in your bones, predicting goose, gander, whatever.
A polyseme is a word or phrase with multiple, related meanings. A word is judged to be polysemous if it has two senses of the word whose meanings are related. Since the vague concept of relatedness is the test for polysemy, judgments of polysemy can be very difficult to make. Because applying pre-existing words to new situations is a natural process of language change, looking at words' etymology is helpful in determining polysemy but not the only solution; as words become lost in etymology, what once was a useful distinction of meaning may no longer be so. Some apparently unrelated words share a common historical origin, however, so etymology is not an infallible test for polysemy, and dictionary writers also often defer to speakers' intuitions to judge polysemy in cases where it contradicts etymology. English has many words which are polysemous. For example the verb "to get" can mean "take" (I'll get the drinks), "become" (she got scared), "have" (I've got three dollars), "understand" (I get it) etc.
Polyvalent is a synonym for multivalent and denotes something which has many values, meanings or appeals. The metaphoric origin of ~valent is derived from valency in chemistry and by metaphoric attribution, may now connote a "subtle, polyvalent allegory".
Karen Kilimnik's ocean, sky and mountain... paintings are minimally executed... their titles refer to moments in time and/or places.
Let's go! Time [tick-tock] and space [wobble wobble]. Aren't they a juggle? I sense this chilling romanticism, very close up, where an interior is enclosing or closing in on the exterior in a half-conceptual/ half what is it [?] state of affairs, chances, and brief encounters. The circle paintings of the sky might suggest a desire to get to the anterior of experience, or strategy to get as close to the sky as possible in a hope to take it all in.
Hmm... interesting... any painting anthropologists out there?
i find it puritanical. And the perspective is off, because who the fuck is the viewer? Im not looking at the same moon, is all I'm saying, because if I was, I'd be outside, and I am not outside, I am in here.
well, who said this blog is dead? Zip, I deleted from my post pretty much what your response is. Right, it's a thing of position, and something in time, is not about time, though it can be both. so i guess we are all tuckered out living in the hope, right! I mean right now seems right good, right? Whatever your perspective!
Lots of good artists in the show so im sure it will be good. But how many banned words can you cram into one statement?
Nina In Position presents diverse artistic strategies that complicate the legibility of lack and difference in America. The selected artworks employ Walter Benjamin’s assertion, “To live is to leave traces,” as a platform from which to view and critique the body and its environs. Occupying Artists Space’s main gallery with a series of sculptural and post-sculptural gestures, Nina In Position reveals emancipated forms that, through their inherent deviance, function as “resistance to regimes of the normal.” Nina In Position is an attempt to articulate a new trajectory of sculptural encounters that rebel against the condition described by Benjamin as “Left Melancholia.” The exhibition’s curatorial focus aims to unlock the ways in which artistic exercises, histories, and narratives are re-signified within contemporary visual culture.
Nina In Position strives to challenge strict parameters of objecthood, exhibiting works that evade limitations and stealthily avoid genre. The work in the exhibition is hybrid, activated, and hyper-aware of its immediate environment. The gallery functions as a safe-house harboring artworks that, through their radicality and hybridity, challenge hierarchy and authority. The artworks elaborate sculpture’s mercurial qualities by examining materiality, transience, and the processes of making. They dodge overarching paradigms of social change, and instead gesture towards unknown forms, new constructions, and alternative modes of representation. Employing a Socratic strategy, Nina In Position’s curatorial matrix places intergenerational artworks in dialogue in order to identify how social, cultural, and geopolitical change occurs on a local level, as well as to articulate how methodologies, practices, and tolerance shape-shift over decades.
Another form of magical thinking occurs when people believe that words can directly affect the world. This can mean avoiding talking about certain subjects ("speak of the devil and he'll appear"), using euphemisms instead of certain words, or believing that to know the "true name" of something gives one power over it, or that certain chants, prayers or mystical phrases will change things. More generally, it is magical thinking to take a symbol to be its referent. Such ideas, however, have sprung from the soil of unbounded self-love, from the primary narcissism which dominates the mind of the child and of primitive man. But when this stage has been surmounted, the 'double' reverses its aspect. From having been an assurance of immortality, it becomes the uncanny harbinger of death.
Kilimnuks knows... just play off the then/now pastiche with your formative years of appropriation having been made in many similar practices during the 80's. She's often forgiven for burying a faux sincere approach because people read her as operating somewhere more subliminal. Or attest that the open ends in her work are a nice change from so many male painters ASSERTING everything in the last 100y (i don't have a problem with assertion though, and think this argument to be pretty dim). But really at the end of the day, her association with the 18th century is one many painters look to for guidance on what painting was (and can therefore continue to be). Yes, but no. Magazine culture gets done better by other artists. Or by the magazines themselves (if only their inks would not fade so fast). She's doing that thing again, the sad thing i see everywhere and totally understand. I just know her collectors get fooled by the initial fetish that is supposedly being (re)presented. Grand means two things, ain't that grand, and aint $hit grand. ANd bla bla, she's a good painter sometimes. (which is the best anyone seems to be able to be these days).
If i shutup the crit, I can imagine looking at A Summer Day, 1763, and dreaming about glimpsing just that part of life at the time might be a nice daydream. Daydreams really are something when they're good.
Are there two primary bees in the art hive today? One - the meaning maker, two - the purse opener? Artists who make work in such a way as to please both. Luxurious work, in appearance, especially with an important sounding date, just wack a "1774" on anything and immediately it carries WEIGHT (brass) but when the work also has a flagellant buried to subdue the guilt of failing to really add much to the discussion, then it's pretty common really. You see it everywhere. No-one really knows. That's ok. Good. I'm glad they don't (stop pretending!).
BUt who cares. Painters like painting, the end. What happens afterward when others get their mits, eyes, hands, typewriter's and interior designer's onto it is like trying to thread the wind.
ah webthing 'in the wreck' write like that and you'll win your own contemporary journal. I guess [what] you are saying [is] that when reaching a precipice you ought to be wearing the right lens, heaven forbid, otherwise one might find oneself, even though totally committed to falling into the abyss, instead, finding oneself one-toothed, or many tooth--splayed, bumped up, and yet still a few meters away on safe land's edge. There is always a pledge to leap. Though the leap rarely has the same kind of pledge. Kilimnik has responded to her own internal dilemmas. The later works show how she has dealt with them. i say admirably, though second-handedly, though honestly. Painters, right, as you say, will react like that.
KK--there's no there there, she doesnt get behind her mark. oh thats the point? BLERG
(tina fey always says BLERG. in the show when she had this ikea furniture that she was trying to put together--you know how ikea furniture always has a weird swedish name like LACKGVES or something-- - well her package was stencilled with BLERG. I think with an umlaut over the e)
306 comments:
«Oldest ‹Older 201 – 306 of 306If you want some loving,
that I can give to you.
And if you want some hugging,
said I can hug some, too.
All I want, baby, now
is some thought of you
and just a little of your attention
you know, will see me through.(yes, yes - me through)
‘Cause you know, that you’re my kind
And I want you to forever be mine
OW!
I idolize you (yes, she idolize you)
You know I idolize you (yes, she idolize you)
I would like to make love to you
When the lights are low (yes, yes down low)
And I would like to scream to you baby
Just so I can let you know (yes, yes you know)
And all I want baby now
Is some thoughts of you
And just a little bit of attention
You know will see me through (yes, yes me through)
‘cause you know that you’re my kind
And I want you to forever be mine
OW!
I idolize you (yes she idolize you)
You know, I idolize you (yes she idolize you)
If you want me to beg to you
I’ll forget my pride (yes, yes my pride)
I’m not ashamed of you baby
And I have nothing to hide (yes, yes to hide)
‘Cause all I want baby now
Is some small part of you
And just a little of your attention
You know will see me through (yes, yes me through)
‘cause you know that you’re my kind
And I want you to forever be mine
OW!
I idolize you (yes she idolize you)
You know, I idolize you (yes she idolize you)
Oohhhhhh baby
Oh I idolize you (yes, she idolize)
I know I know I know I know I idolize you
Oooooh (yes she idolize you)
Come on
Come on
Come on come on come on come on baby
You know I idolize you (yes, she idolize you)
Ohhhhhhh
retroactive tapelove throwback continues...
I'm Leaving Baby
My love she speaks like silence
Without ideals or violence
She doesn't have to say she's faithful
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire
People carry roses
And make promises by the hours
My love she laughs like the flowers
Valentines can't buy her.
In the dime stores and bus stations
People talk of situations
Read books, repeat quotations
Draw conclusions on the wall
Some speak of the future
My love she speaks softly
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no succes at all.
The cloak and dagger dangles
Madams light the candles
In ceremonies of the horsemen
Even the pawn must hold a grudge
Statues made of match sticks
Crumble into one another
My love winks, she does not bother
She knows too much to argue or to judge.
The bridge at midnight trembles
The country doctor rambles
Bankers' nieces seek perfection
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring
The wind howls like a hammer
The night blows rainy
My love she's like some raven
At my window with a broken wing.
You're no fun. Shalom Bayit. HA HAAAA
I'm banging on my drum, I'm banging on my drum
I'm banging on my drum, boy, I'm having lot's of fun
I'm banging on my drum, Yeah, I'm banging on my drum
I'm banging on my drum, now baby, and I'm having lot's of fun
I'm banging on my drum, I'm banging on my drum
I'm banging on my drum, boy, I'm having lot's of fun
I'm banging on my one, my one, my drum ...
Dog's got a bone, all of his own
Wednesday morning, middle of the road
Can't help this feeling, of feeling so alone
Gotta go home now, dog's got a bone now.
Listen you will see, coming on in to me
Listen you will see, coming on in to me
Listen you will see that we are climbing
Listen you will see that we are climbing
Wish you were here, tied to the pier
Words disappear, every time you call me
So won't you come home now
If you're feeling so alone now
Dog's got a bone, all of his own now
Listen you will see, coming on in to me
Listen you will see, coming on in to me
Listen you will see that we are climbing
Listen you will see that we are climbing
Listen you will see, coming on in to me
Listen you will see, coming on in to me
Listen you will see that we are climbing
Listen you will see that we are climbing
Yeah, do, do, do, do (repeated) Falling on your face with a little white safe
Pedestals are for suckers and romantics.
Is this the legend of a liquid brain
That cluster-fuck muscle man who died in the rain?
He never guessed that the world would end
Crawling off the beach from the sea to the land
How far can a man go
Crawling on his elbows
Falling through his windows
How far can a man go
Crawling on his elbows
Falling through his windows
Is this the legend of a liquid brain?
You're just a turtle spinning in space
You're just a turtle spinning in space
You're just a turtle spinning in space
(And when you return)
With flat packages of stolen goods
If you don't give them weapons how you gonna get your food
We never guessed that the world would end
Drinking on the beach and we're driving on the land...
How far can a man go
Crawling on his elbows
Falling through his windows
How far can a man go
Crawling on his elbows
Falling through his windows
Is it true what they say
About life when you're dead
('Cause I'm going away)
Is it true what they say
About the curtains that close when you're going away?
Is it true what they say
About life when you're dead
('Cause I'm going away)
Is it true what they say
About the curtains that close when you're going away?
word, darling. its pathetic aint it?
Now, this here story is the story of John Exczeuter Muthor Smoke,
And its for his Mom, its about his Mom,
Its about the Chicken Ranch they had in Southern Utah,
Any they grown the fingernail of a nun, like I have spoken to you
before,
This song is with love, its for love, its about love, its a negating
love,
Its with hate,its not about hate, its love, love is love,
And its about John.E Smoke and his Mom and the baby they had.
Johnny was a little lesbian midget boy,
but he stood ten foot tall with a thermo-nuclear device.
Johnny left home before he was born.
A huge Indian teepee had appeared out of Johnnys earlobe,
He didnt know why.
It spoke French and half-Dutch,
Perhaps the teepee was from Belgium,
We dont know.
All of a sudden Johnny had no reasoning
His life was a tremglescwitch
What is a tremglescwitch?
A way of life that Johnny only knew
And there was no telling how much he knew or how little
Because Johnny was a lesbian,
A shoplifter,
A drag queen,
And a surgeon,
A heart surgeon of love.
Pretty soon Johnny was a Chinese Emporer
He owned seventeen 7-11s which were convenince stores,
Known only in the United States.
Johnny sold cocaine, marujuana and alcohol,
A lot of things Johnny said he didnt understand himself,
When a tattoo of Jesus on his chest would occaisionally rise three feet
above his body,
And play poker with him,
Not knowing what to do,
Johnny would bid high,
Jesus would raise him a little,
Johnny would come back and say,
"What have ya got Christ"
Christ would say
"The Ace of Spades"
Johnny was confused again
A lot of litagation went down
Johnny became a black person,
Then an Indian,
And wandered through California,
Got him a trip.............
ustedos unidos
who likes to watch?
Who is still awake?
Still havent figured out whats so good about the Seurat drawings. Someone I know who knows a lot said they are some of the best drawings of the 20th cent. but Im not sure why he thought that. Gradation is not granularity folks.
N-E-way--my picks for the best work posted 2007 (not the best comments, that would be stupid)..."That's What I call painting": Neo Rausch, Kathe Burkhart, Eliott Hundley & Rebecca Morris. I have to reach back to 12-06 and give props to Thornton Willis--that's a beautiful painting as are all his.
Yeah I don;t get it. Nostalgia for gasslight and fog? Steampunk wannabees? Europhiles? Bustle fetishists? We covered it all to no avail.
If you look at the paper though, as i mentioned, you realize it was made on a screen, hand made, out of cotton rag I presume, so maybe theres this idea that the warp and woof or whatever is all innit like belly button lint or toe jam. I mean people do get all metaphorical and poetic, just not me, not now.
I had a paper making class that was so dull and uninformative (it was called experimental printmaking materials fetish 101) that the class revolted, much to the consternation of the professor, who's alcoholic husband was the burnout bane of the photography department (go nude get an a - no help there either, and I was scratching into the negative and everything).
The upshot being, this is the sort of work small backwater colleges love because it doesn't challenge anything other than maybe your status anxieties and patience.
I am clinicly interested in pancreatic enzymes right now. Apparently lack of them causes undigested carbs to ferment in the bowels. This can be extremely painfull to family members (not for me though - I love passing gas more than anything sometimes).
I love the game though, but I guess you have to be a rock star to make a living at it.
If you like to gamble, I tell you I'm your man
You win some, lose some, it's -all- the same to me
The pleasure is to play, it makes no difference what you say
I don't share your greed, the only card I need is
The Ace Of Spades
The Ace Of Spades
Playing for the high one, dancing with the devil,
Going with the flow, it's all a game to me,
Seven or Eleven, snake eyes watching you,
Double up or quit, double stake or split,
The Ace Of Spades
The Ace Of Spades
You know I'm born to lose, and gambling's for fools,
But that's the way I like it baby,
I don't wanna live for ever,
And don't forget the joker!
Pushing up the ante, I know you've got to see me,
Read 'em and weep, the dead man's hand again,
I see it in your eyes, take one look and die,
The only thing you see, you know it's gonna be,
The Ace Of Spades
The Ace Of Spades
Where the marking media meets the grid of the paper. That's nice and all. it's just that contemporary limitations leave the grid behind. So it seems quaint, dont it?
Where are your limitations, and where is your freedom, and where do they meet, and are you in control of that place?
Most games really bore me.
no rush,
Best post on Seurat's drawing...
congradulations emil!!! you win!
those drawings have flipped my lid ever since undergrad. They have an incredible command of value and the edge quality between shapes make you see the values as powerful statements thta are nearly colorful. It seems he was able in the drawings to make greys glow with more light than the whites! the lady's dress is like a glowing coal...those fucking edge shifts! Wow. In any other person's drawing the silhouettes would feel fuzzy but in the seurat world of comparison they make such a strong statement. Sorry for the prolonged wet spot on my keyboard but the work is for real this time.
Prize: There is no prize for getting it right.
happy holidays
Edge quality and value just seems quaint too, and the dress does not seem like a glowing coal. A glowing coal might be of interest. the only thing i like about these drawings is the shimmer. which may have meant something once, but is no longer relevant, seems like a trick. Looking for the trick that defines today. Looking for the place where self meets system.
Since Seurat died in 1891, hard to see how he would figure in 20th century drawing.
But fuzz tone can get you depth and volume without line. You grade fine enough you're talking particles of some kind - unless you're into string theory, in which case go straight to Lautrec.
I always wondered who signed up for those handmade paper units.
http://www.artnet.com/artwork/424301040/748/ed-ruscha-sunset--pacific-coast-highway.html
Rough, Not and Hot Press!
That's like Rip Rig and Panic over there.
Anybody going to bid on the Magna Charta? I'd love to do a drawing on it.
he "End of Greatness" is an observational scale discovered at roughly 100 Mpc (roughly 300 million lightyears) where the lumpiness seen in the large-scale structure of the universe is homogenized and isotropized as per the Cosmological Principle. The superclusters and filaments seen in smaller surveys are randomized to the extent that the smooth distribution of the universe is visually apparent. It wasn't until the redshift surveys of the 1990s were completed that this scale could accurately be observed.
may your holliday season be less than totally grim
Please tell me that handmade paper course was not on the west coast.
yea he must have said 19th cuz hes way smarter than me.
PCH and sunset. dont we all wish we were there right now? i know i do.
eschewing xmas this year and lovin it. may your holiday be allover.
SOmething about the PNW -t he light is a mix of wan greys - blue-grey usually. Right now it's got a bit of purple. Wad it up and throw it away.
I'm with No Rush, put me at the PCH and Sunset and let me hitch north to the county line and I'll be happy.
Seurat makes me happy, but not as happy as the Pacific makes me.
This blog is dead, almost one month on this post and 231 comments, less than ten a day, better than most for sure, but this thing should be fresh fresh fresh.
Maybe there could be guest contributors to help carry the load (I'm sure its not easy).
Seurat hoorah hoorah Seurat!
Painter (if you're still paying attention) - just a year-end thank you for all the unseen effort you put into this blog, whatever it's future may be.
for me it means a hand gets a share in the pot for having the lowest
card highest card any jack or winning the hand in the normal poker
fashion so that the pot might get divided from 3 to 7 ways depending on;
how many jacks turn up.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne? And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine.
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne,
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
nce
that would be the same as having the high hand.
while I can;t remember it shedding any direct light on the questions
at issue, for those interested in the subject The Education of a
Poker Player by Herbert Yardley, presents an interesting outlook on
the game of poker that was forged in the saloon games of the Old West
where he cut his teeth as a house dealer
nothing is insoluble
nothing is insoluble
two thousand and eight
merry hanuka bla bla
I found a game I like
Quaint? No longer relevant?? Seems like a trick???
Since he died in 1891, hard to see how he would figure in 20th century drawing????
What?
I don't understand any of this. A great drawing is great. It's not relevant? I don't even know what that means. I must not be relevant.
There's nothing dated or quaint about this drawing. It is remarkable for transcending a way of making a drawing that should be boring, that should be predictable, contained, oppressively stylized, precious and saccharine. It should be all those things, but it is not. Instead its delicate bits of dust mysteriously align to reveal a kind of toughness rarely seen, at once beautiful and nearly frightening.
It's magic.
This drawing glows my coal any day of the week.
Conte Crayon Nomi. COnte Crayon. Dated. Quaint. Retorgrade. Memories of backwater vicissitudes and dingy weltenshuangs.
If you insist on conte crayon you are as enslaved as as any victorian chimney sweep or boot black.
I'm not fundamentally opposed to the reification of the power structure by celebrating the privileged, but clearly, Seraut is no great talent, his pointilist gimick notwithstanding.
As I pointed out obliquely earlier, his color theory has precedent in earlier color theories, and his extreme impressionism isn't in fact much more than taking something that existed and making it explicit through sweat - rote repetition is something I detest as an aristocrat . Like sex, a good artist does indeed function as a distiller of spirits - but to mount such a creature upon a pedestal and declair - as many do - that this is in fact a great work of art is to perhaps have one's tastes firmy aligned with the forces of banal conservativism and regressive politics.
In short, unless one resorts to my free associative ramblings on granulartity, this sample is deadly dull. And I did see the show. GO downstairs and look at the african stuff. In light of Roberta Smith's recent review of Rodin in Baltimore at the BAM, I must say its a sight more interesting - though thinking of sculpture as 3-dee drawing is a concept that hardly moves me at all.
Eight miles high and when you touch down
You'll find that it's stranger than known
Signs in the street that say where you're going
Are somewhere just being their own
Nowhere is there warmth to be found
Among those afraid of losing their ground
Rain gray town known for its sound
In places small faces unbound
Round the squares huddled in storms
Some laughing some just shapeless forms
Sidewalk scenes and black limousines
Some living, some standing alone
Ice on the wings and we were flying
Sand in our eyes but we were seeing
Below us a crowd that wasn't buying
Watching us pass and not believing
No one else has seen the sights that crossed our eyes
Everything beyond these purple skies
No longer gone, we're back again
No longer gone, we were dead but now returned
No longer gone, though the tides are standing still
No longer gone, and our bridges are still burning
Marks on the floor where we were laying
Better explain what I'm saying
thanks for such an insightful critique! Less an opinion. It is not the artists' sweat but rather her role. Granularity=information. Bechtle is a genius. Conte Crayon is that which lay beneath my skin.
LEBEN MIT POP
"Criticism will have no effect"
Professor Paul P.P.
Connoisseur
nice xmas carol zip. never thought of it that way, but it fits.
Of course seurat was establishing the tricks of the trade of his time. so I have nothing against him, just wondering how to move it into the present. I was thinking it meant we need to establish our own tricks, but like games, I get tired of the tricks. The whole thing is a trick that dies right in your hand these days.
Like professor Tina t. I do like the intrapersonal games. I'm searching for that boundless pedestal that we all fit on. It only exists in my mind for now.
Jason Rhodes is cool with the slobby thing but seems to be off base with the americana. I think the place that's really got the black pussy going is Cuba. Not for long im sure.
They were so quiet. They just came right up on us. They were quick. The dogs had no clue. They didn't smell them or hear them — nothing. I was rainbowing my pepper spray, and they fell back a little bit. There must be some kind of way out of here
Said the joker to the thief
Theres too much confusion
I cant get no relief
Businessman they drink my wine
Plow men dig my earth
None will level on the line
Nobody of it is worth
Hey hey But as soon as we would turn our backs to try to go, they would run up on us, and we would turn around and start screaming again, and I would spray my pepper spray. We just kept pulling, and they were so big, and they started howling, and they were circling us. And it got us really panicked, and we kept screaming. No reason to get excited
The thief he kindly spoke
There are many here among us
Who feel that life is but a joke but uh
But you and I weve been through that
And this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now
The hours getting late
Hey Hey I love my dog with all my heart, but I can't jeopardize my friends. And if that's what they wanted, I didn't know whether to leave him. My dog was attacked by the wolves, three wolves, He fought his way out as I was pulling. They were not afraid of us, And I'm afraid that if I was out here by myself, they would attack me. They were not afraid. All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went
Bare-foot servants to, but huh
Outside in the cold distance
A wild cat did growl
Two riders were approachin
And the wind began to howl
Hey Oh If they figure out that dogs are easy to kill, and good food for them, then they can just come to the conclusion that there is a lot more dogs than moose, and 'Let's just start eating the dogs for now, m not sure they have quite reached that point, but they are working on that concept right now.
All along the watchtower
Hear you sing around the watch
Gotta beware gotta beware I will
Yeah
Ooh baby
All along the watchtower
The wolves stopped attacking when key pack members were trapped and killed.
Happy Holidays Painter!
Intricately detailed, and with a seeming aversion to empty space, the pictures are dense mazes made up of tiny, delicate incidents and beings, creating compositions that feel woven rather than painted. This cathartic process continued for six months. It has been compared to the Catholic concept of Purgatory. Additionally, the system of thought in his theological writings is remarkably coherent pastiche - Whereas pastiche used to be a humorous literary style, it has, in postmodernism, become "devoid of laughter"; In the postmodern era has become a "dead language", without any political or historical content, and so has also become unable to satirize in any effective way. Like state troopers on a highway, these scientists used a "speed gun" to clock clumps of hot iron gas whipping around a black hole at 20,000 miles per second. That's over 10 percent of light speed. At this speed, you could get to the moon in about 10 seconds.
http://www.artnet.com/Galleries/Artwork_Detail.asp?G=&gid=484&which=&ViewArtistBy=&aid=13705&wid=424838795&source=artist&rta=http://www.artnet.com
http://www.artnet.com/Galleries/Artwork_Detail.asp?G=&gid=484&which=&ViewArtistBy=&aid=13705&wid=424838724&source=artist&rta=http://www.artnet.com
Have I mentioned that I've started a series of drawings made with conte crayon and that it's awesome?
Also, I met with Painter at a secret location and was asked to pass along that the world "relevant" has been banned from this blog. I'm just the messenger.
World relevant. That works too.
I believe there are other words that are being banned:
emblematizing
privileging
referencing
practice or practicing
conflating
blurring
boundaries
problematizing
subvert or subverting
thank you.
The Care Bears
liminal.
but i'm not into banning anything. say what you will.
I am into banning. And censorship.
so defeated
thinks it's funny
Film festival
Retro porn
Shabby chic
biCostal
Soundtrack
Carnivore
Transgressive
gone fishin'
Shock Value
Good Contract
Big Collection
Independant
Devil's Advocate
Proteg?
Ooooooooh! Ooooooooh!
Ooooooooh! Oooooooooooooh!
Hawaiian Shirt
Buddy buddy
Just Chillin'
Crystal Meth
Big Budget
Dirty Hair
Anti PC
Dive Bar
Universal
Hilton Safari
Euro Connection
Topless Now
obscore reference
Likes Parties
fake Childhood
muscle Tee
Ooooooooh! Ooooooooh!
Ooooooooh! Oooooooooooooh!
outstandinbg"
difficult
assemblage
terror
enemy combatant
hipster
gentrification
surge
rat venom
awe
hells yeah!
ambitious project
you are amazing
waiting for Godot
Brechtian
organic eggs
attention deficit
deficit spending
arduous
contemporary
modern
recent work
current
electric
pastiche
homage
debasement
debunk
fuck man it's really funny how people avoid the ease of calling a spade a spade for fear that it is just another lingual cul de sac
when it whispers in your ear
don't turn around!
just keep walking
you're not the first.
wbthng
Relevant
Relevant
Relevant
No Comply Studio Yearbook 1
Wild Mountain Nation Blitzen Trapper Wild Mountain Nation
Melody Day Caribou Andorra
Carry On Up The Morning Babyshambles Shotter's Nation
The Greater Times Electrelane No Shouts, No Calls
Be Less Rude Frightened Rabbit Sing The Greys
Nightmares Jay Reatard Blood Visions
(How Can I Keep You) Outta Harms Way King Khan & The Shrines What Is?!
20 Dollar M.I.A. Kala
Alone/Alive Shapes and Sizes Split Lips, Winning Hips, A Shiner
Trumpet, Trumpet, Toot! Toot! Sunset Rubdown Random Spirit Lover
Hitten Those Dancing Days Those Dancing Days
Teenage Lust! Times New Viking Present The Paisley Reich
Campus Vampire Weekend Blue CD-R
Derek Animal Collective Strawberry Jam
New York I Love You LCD Soundsystem Sound Of Silver
Bros Panda Bear
banning-ironic ribs-dead or alive-humor.cheekiness.mfa dribble.mfa drool.mfa diarrhea.educational injaculation.me.cest tout.gonna have une cigarette.loves.gones.maybe im crazy. member that?I have a healing center heer,very cheep-we do chile enema,etc
harmonica's on the lounge-chair
three in a row
two have rusted
one won't blow
pulling them apart
cleaning their bits
i noticed
you
putting them back together
to get her
they all work again
the chords are fine
Whoever is running this website ought to consider changing the posted image more often. The website is becoming a drag...
indeed, let us deflate or inflate the boundaries! In the absolescence of new images, and not knowing, or indeed being without further information, visual or otherwise, I conjecture, and knowingly, against the day, or for the night, apres la nuit, avant le letre, I went to the Comet, in Seattle, still a bike messenger bar, just down the hill from Swedish Hospital, being chockabloc full of bad art, but also, serendipitously, two Jacob Lawrence prints!
The Comet, containing nothing or other, still a dive, or a leap, back, won;t be fooled again, threading the haystack, bridging over the milk, and wondering what to infestigate next. Extispicy!
A surgeon, becoming more skilled, wears the burden of failures past, practice, I must assume, in artists, reaching for perfect. Or nearly so well wishing.
maybe not a lot left to say of Seurat right now- if you would like to take a few hacks at these, feel free. http://newgrids.blogspot.com/
For last year's words belong to last year's language and next year's words await another voice.
zip is funny but this guy is funnier (cap is still not funny)
Oh please Painter come back!!!! no rush's 'this guy' is too funny....but, but, I wanna see paintings! This blog is too good and MUST NOT die.
walk a mile in my chair
Can't decide between wine or pine.
I was crawling through a festival way out west
I was thinking about love and the acid test
But first I got real dizzy with a real rocking gang
Then I saw the Coma Girl and the excitement gang
And the rain came in from the wide blue yonder
Through all the stages I wandered
Coma Girl and the excitement gang
Mona Lisa on the motorcycle gang
Coma Girl
Coma Girl
Coma Girl was beating with the Oil Drum gang
Some fast food fanatic was burning down the burger van
Somebody was wailing off their head
Nobody was ripping the teen scene dead
And the rain came in from the wide blue yonder
I thought you and me might wander
As the 19th hour was falling upon Desolation Row
Some outlaw band had the last drop on the go
Let’s siphon up some gas let’s get this show on the road
Said the Coma Girl to the excitement gang
Into action everybody sprang
The oil drums were beating out dulang dulang
Coma Girl and the excitement gang
Mona Lisa on the motorcycle gang
Coma Girl
Coma Girl
Jeremiah was a bull frog.
Was a good friend of mine.
Never understood a single word he said,
but he always had some mighty fine wine
what are the issues? Flat tax? Health care? The Dark Lord? Domestic spending? Brand Equity? Jingoism? Hemlines? Shape shifting boogiemen? Jenny Craig? Viagra? Gene splicing? Blue Tooth for everyone?
I don't know where Hillary stands on many issues, and it behooves me to learn - but yeah, Hillary is the soccer Mom's candidate - validates the hair gel look but also, I love the lucky? brocaide (should have epaulettes) looking jacket she wears for special occasions. Might change the way families migrate together and shit.
We are now faced with a curious situation in which meaning has become so detached from itself that its central collapse defines much of the art of our time -- to the point where the ‘will’ to meaning often deliberately courts meaninglessness and even finds satisfaction in it. No man lives within his own psychic sphere like a snail in its shell, separated from everybody else, but is connected with his fellow-minds - by his unconscious humanity.
God as an omnipotent clockmaker standing outside and apart from his creation. The element of design in mechanistic philosophy did not arise from ‘the “natures” of things but from the properties with which God endowed them’. A divine creator implies a dependence of the created on a creator, and also a differentiation between creator and created. Human beings had a special role to play due to being made in God’s image; this further emphasized their separation from the rest of creation. The development of capitalism promulgated the view that nature was a commodity or a resource to be used. Although mechanistic theories did not go unchallenged, particularly by Vitalism, a radical analysis by Paracelsus of the activity in nature whereby matter and spirit were unified into an single, active, vital substance, and also by the academic disciplines of botany and zoology, Descartes’ views have been influential.
Guess PaintersNYC is dead - or just aptly describes our 'give me the moment' culture... where we need the next thing NOW...
If anyone should know dead, it's you sunil...
But some things arent dead:
Painting is dead. Painting isn’t dead. Painting is dead! No, it isn’t! Yes, it is! Isn’t! Is! Shut up shut up shut up shut up!!! Okay, now that we have that out of the way... Painting isn’t the denial-plagued zombie elephant in the room — art theory is. It’s one of the lines Leonard Cohen left out: Everybody knows a work of art that doesn’t speak for itself is a failure as a work of art. Fortunately, in spite of the best efforts we critics have mustered to impose Artforum’s Rules of Order on the rabble, art — and particularly the medium non grata of painting — just won’t shut up.
have you seen the show--whats it called--art or not--on the ovation channel. pretty good, pretty good
ANSI show
also the fellow i'll always think of as things that go
i like "arforum's points of order"
I was just looking at leonard cohen;s lyrics - had to put my tinfoil hat on.
Aphorisms bloom like a thousand paper swans....
why no more paintings? Is that a personal question? If so, you don't have to answer me.
Rain, fall, and I will give you my kid.
He has a 'black head', he neither bleats
Nor complains; he says not, 'I am cold.'
Rain, who filiest the skins,
Wet our raiment.
Rain, who feedest the rivers,
Overturn the doors of our houses.
When you want to accurately paint a bird flying, the key is how straight the wing is and the angle of the wing’s edge.
: knowing the bone count in a bird’s foot, and how many toes face foward or back;enables you to position its foot correctly in any position when painting it.
:when looking at an animal’s legs, remember to think about what you’re looking at;Is it an ankle, knee or hip Legs have threa joints; hip, knee and anklet he knee a lot higher than what you think at stomach level and the ankle where you’d expect a knee;get to know how many colors you can create using three primaries. The fewer primary colors you use in a painting, the more ‘hurmonious" the result.
wow ttg. i still have his shiny mail Art in our disco.
Anyone have thoughts on the Karen Kilimnik show at 303?
Are you short changing yourself from the best attributes of wine by drinking it at the incorrect temperature? Think twice before getting ice.
If there is a beverage that has survived the ages and just seems to get better with time, it is wine. Ancient writers such as Ovid wrote, "When there is plenty of wine, sorry and worry take wing." In the 17th century, Shakespeare extolled wine's virtues when he penned, "Good wine is a familiar creature if it be well used." And, in recent times, medical research has pleased the enophile stating that red wine in moderation is good for the ticker.
What is not as evident is the best temperature to drink wine. Indeed, it is probably the single most misunderstood concept about wine.
BEWARE OF fuckinCOMMERCIAL AFDBS since you should trust no one always construct your AFDB yourself to avoid the risk of subversion and mental enslavement sometimes AFDBs will be sold on places like ebay or somethingdo not purchase these pre/made AFDBs even if the seller seems trustworthy they may contain backdoors and pinholes,integrated psychotronic circuitry or other methods that actually pramote mind control
aMIGA AND shit LINuX UsERS it is advised that you get a copy of mindguard for your personal antipsychotronic needs although an AadFdb is a fuckin effective guard against most forms of psychotronic stuff
The warrior of the future, to elude thermal imaging devices at night and in cooler weather, should obtain a metalized "space" blanket and a wool blanket. The freedom fighter should form a hood with the space blanket over your head and allow the rest of the material to drop over your back. Wrap the rest of the space blanket around to your front forming a poncho. Make certain the space blanket fits over your slung rifle and gear. Also make certain that a slit is formed in the front of your space blanket poncho to allow you to thrust your arms through for work or for firing your rifle at low flying drones cyborgs or robots.
Certain electromagnetic fields can influence the human brain. Weapons are in development that create electromagnetic fields that induce a sence of apathy, depression, and a state of surrender in the human mind. Your space blanket is effective in negating such fields, as well; however; if you notice that such weapons are being deployed, it would be prudent to vacate the area, employ a faraday caged electromagnetic safe structure or ground your space blanket.
I regret the failure of socialism. That's what Meyer Shapiro said just before he died. I can't improve on it. That's a lifetime regret. Regrets from 2007 include a chronic failure to look at art without thinking of what I'll say about it. I regret that the voice in my head is my own.
methinks it's all cryptic messages...take every second letter, change them into numbers and square root the lot--that kinda thing. Hmm....
Synchronicity is the experience of two or more events which occur in a meaningful manner, but which are causally unrelated. In order to be synchronous, the events must be related to one another conceptually, and the chance that they would occur together by random chance must be very small.
It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards
Apophenia is the experience of seeing patterns or connections in random or meaningless data. The term was coined in 1958 by Klaus Conrad, who defined it as the "unmotivated seeing of connections" accompanied by a "specific experience of an abnormal meaningfulness".
Allusive substitutions are as old as English: see kenning. Allusion is an economical device, a figure of speech that draws upon the ready stock of ideas or emotion already associated with a topic in a relatively short space. Thus, an allusion is understandable only to those with prior knowledge of the covert reference in question. (See cultural literacy.)
"In a metalepsis, a word is substituted metonymically for a word in a previous trope, so that a metalepsis can be called, maddeningly but accurately, a metonymy of a metonymy."
He wrote to Carlyle in 1838 that his sentences were like electricity, for they were comprised of "infinitely repellent particle[s]" (CEC 185). Eloquence fulfills man's "want of electricity to vitalize" his life (W 8:70); poetry emerges electromagnetically through the "magnetic tenaciousness of an image" (W 8:27), and "shall thrill and agitate mankind" (W 8:73).(3)
every way you cut it there's still Smoke on the Water
...and when the mike lets you down.
http://music.princeton.edu/%7Edmitri/deeppurple.mov
blew that one.
no taxation without representation
in a manner of speaking.
proto photoshop
some peeps are keepin the flame going...
oilgirl it's not cryptic.
not to an apopheniac anyway...
the lillian schwartz reference to seurat in pt.2 was timely...
but really, 300 looms in pnyc stagnation...
i've got a bottle of moet ready to pop when the next post arrives.
taking patterns and arranging them in meaningful ways
apophenia, aha! glass is ready bring it on, painter.
MARLÈNE MOCQUET - 327 Comments
holds the record
http://painternyc.blogspot.com/2007_07_01_archive.html
Ninety nine pieces like humpty dumpty nobody can eat fitty, except in an omelette with a mimosa, like the hipsters on sunday hey man, you're motherfuckin fuckin captain Barbosa yeah yeah yeah like cokies place, no hope in dope, Mr. Narrator, The numerous instances where he has used the lines "I drop bombs like Hiroshima" are omitted. I'm One Zero so you know you gotta be a hero. Instances doesn;t ryme with dime, but you know, now it's done like a spare tire. Don;t shoot till you see the whites of their eyes.
up against the wall motherfuckers! Its hawaii five-o looking for your bible making you tai bo shake shake shake for survival sounds so slow but its automatic trigger happy tidal. No problems last forever too clever fox in the weather - cold in your bones, predicting goose, gander, whatever.
OK I say we shoot for 500 by easter!
The Kilimnik show at 303?
Karen's moving out...
Skies, clouds, mountains
Space is the place, by George
'water-based oil paint' - isn't that what we used to call Alkyd or something? (where's my Mayer...)
Swallow a toad in the morning and you will encounter nothing more disgusting the rest of the day
Alkyds yes! too quick to dry so tricky and oh so sticky.
A polyseme is a word or phrase with multiple, related meanings. A word is judged to be polysemous if it has two senses of the word whose meanings are related. Since the vague concept of relatedness is the test for polysemy, judgments of polysemy can be very difficult to make. Because applying pre-existing words to new situations is a natural process of language change, looking at words' etymology is helpful in determining polysemy but not the only solution; as words become lost in etymology, what once was a useful distinction of meaning may no longer be so. Some apparently unrelated words share a common historical origin, however, so etymology is not an infallible test for polysemy, and dictionary writers also often defer to speakers' intuitions to judge polysemy in cases where it contradicts etymology. English has many words which are polysemous. For example the verb "to get" can mean "take" (I'll get the drinks), "become" (she got scared), "have" (I've got three dollars), "understand" (I get it) etc.
Polyvalent is a synonym for multivalent and denotes something which has many values, meanings or appeals. The metaphoric origin of ~valent is derived from valency in chemistry and by metaphoric attribution, may now connote a "subtle, polyvalent allegory".
well don't stop there, nowhereman and cap, all.
Karen Kilimnik's ocean, sky and mountain... paintings are minimally executed... their titles refer to moments in time and/or places.
Let's go!
Time [tick-tock] and space [wobble wobble]. Aren't they a juggle?
I sense this chilling romanticism, very close up, where an interior is enclosing or closing in on the exterior in a half-conceptual/ half what is it [?] state of affairs, chances, and brief encounters.
The circle paintings of the sky might suggest a desire to get to the anterior of experience, or strategy to get as close to the sky as possible in a hope to take it all in.
Hmm... interesting... any painting anthropologists out there?
i find it puritanical. And the perspective is off, because who the fuck is the viewer? Im not looking at the same moon, is all I'm saying, because if I was, I'd be outside, and I am not outside, I am in here.
well, who said this blog is dead?
Zip, I deleted from my post pretty much what your response is. Right, it's a thing of position, and something in time, is not about time, though it can be both.
so i guess we are all tuckered out living in the hope, right! I mean right now seems right good, right? Whatever your perspective!
Lots of good artists in the show so im sure it will be good. But how many banned words can you cram into one statement?
Nina In Position presents diverse artistic strategies that complicate the legibility of lack and difference in America. The selected artworks employ Walter Benjamin’s assertion, “To live is to leave traces,” as a platform from which to view and critique the body and its environs. Occupying Artists Space’s main gallery with a series of sculptural and post-sculptural gestures, Nina In Position reveals emancipated forms that, through their inherent deviance, function as “resistance to regimes of the normal.” Nina In Position is an attempt to articulate a new trajectory of sculptural encounters that rebel against the condition described by Benjamin as “Left Melancholia.” The exhibition’s curatorial focus aims to unlock the ways in which artistic exercises, histories, and narratives are re-signified within contemporary visual culture.
Nina In Position strives to challenge strict parameters of objecthood, exhibiting works that evade limitations and stealthily avoid genre. The work in the exhibition is hybrid, activated, and hyper-aware of its immediate environment. The gallery functions as a safe-house harboring artworks that, through their radicality and hybridity, challenge hierarchy and authority. The artworks elaborate sculpture’s mercurial qualities by examining materiality, transience, and the processes of making. They dodge overarching paradigms of social change, and instead gesture towards unknown forms, new constructions, and alternative modes of representation. Employing a Socratic strategy, Nina In Position’s curatorial matrix places intergenerational artworks in dialogue in order to identify how social, cultural, and geopolitical change occurs on a local level, as well as to articulate how methodologies, practices, and tolerance shape-shift over decades.
Looks like its Artforum ready. What ever happened to uncanny?
Another form of magical thinking occurs when people believe that words can directly affect the world. This can mean avoiding talking about certain subjects ("speak of the devil and he'll appear"), using euphemisms instead of certain words, or believing that to know the "true name" of something gives one power over it, or that certain chants, prayers or mystical phrases will change things. More generally, it is magical thinking to take a symbol to be its referent. Such ideas, however, have sprung from the soil of unbounded self-love, from the primary narcissism which dominates the mind of the child and of primitive man. But when this stage has been surmounted, the 'double' reverses its aspect. From having been an assurance of immortality, it becomes the uncanny harbinger of death.
Kilimnuks knows... just play off the then/now pastiche with your formative years of appropriation having been made in many similar practices during the 80's. She's often forgiven for burying a faux sincere approach because people read her as operating somewhere more subliminal. Or attest that the open ends in her work are a nice change from so many male painters ASSERTING everything in the last 100y (i don't have a problem with assertion though, and think this argument to be pretty dim). But really at the end of the day, her association with the 18th century is one many painters look to for guidance on what painting was (and can therefore continue to be). Yes, but no. Magazine culture gets done better by other artists. Or by the magazines themselves (if only their inks would not fade so fast). She's doing that thing again, the sad thing i see everywhere and totally understand. I just know her collectors get fooled by the initial fetish that is supposedly being (re)presented. Grand means two things, ain't that grand, and aint $hit grand. ANd bla bla, she's a good painter sometimes. (which is the best anyone seems to be able to be these days).
If i shutup the crit, I can imagine looking at A Summer Day, 1763, and dreaming about glimpsing just that part of life at the time might be a nice daydream. Daydreams really are something when they're good.
Are there two primary bees in the art hive today? One - the meaning maker, two - the purse opener? Artists who make work in such a way as to please both. Luxurious work, in appearance, especially with an important sounding date, just wack a "1774" on anything and immediately it carries WEIGHT (brass) but when the work also has a flagellant buried to subdue the guilt of failing to really add much to the discussion, then it's pretty common really. You see it everywhere. No-one really knows. That's ok. Good. I'm glad they don't (stop pretending!).
BUt who cares. Painters like painting, the end. What happens afterward when others get their mits, eyes, hands, typewriter's and interior designer's onto it is like trying to thread the wind.
"When the student is ready, the master will appear"
ah webthing 'in the wreck'
write like that and you'll win your own contemporary journal.
I guess [what] you are saying [is] that when reaching a precipice you ought to be wearing the right lens, heaven forbid, otherwise one might find oneself, even though totally committed to falling into the abyss, instead, finding oneself one-toothed, or many tooth--splayed, bumped up, and yet still a few meters away on safe land's edge.
There is always a pledge to leap. Though the leap rarely has the same kind of pledge.
Kilimnik has responded to her own internal dilemmas. The later works show how she has dealt with them. i say admirably, though second-handedly, though honestly. Painters, right, as you say, will react like that.
KK--there's no there there, she doesnt get behind her mark. oh thats the point? BLERG
(tina fey always says BLERG. in the show when she had this ikea furniture that she was trying to put together--you know how ikea furniture always has a weird swedish name like LACKGVES or something-- - well her package was stencilled with BLERG. I think with an umlaut over the e)
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