29 March 2013
28 March 2013
Katrien De Blauwer
Eisenstein believed that film montage could create ideas or have an impact beyond the individual images. Two or more images edited together create a "tertium quid" (third thing) that makes the whole greater than the sum of its individual parts.
Montage theory: Eisenstein
Posted by Rachel Johnston at 11:39 am
27 March 2013
Because my grandmother made meJake Adam York, "Grace"
the breakfast her mother made her,
when I crack the eggs, pat the butter
on the toast, and remember the bacon
to cast iron, to fork, to plate, to tongue,
my great grandmother moves my hands
to whisk, to spatula, to biscuit ring,
and I move her hands too, making
her mess, so the syllable of batter
I'll find tomorrow beneath the fridge
and the strew of salt and oil are all
memorials, like the pan-fried chicken
that whistles in the grease in the voice
of my best friend's grandmother
like a midnight mockingbird,
and the smoke from the grill
is the smell of my father coming home
from the furnace and the tang
of vinegar and char is the smell
of Birmingham, the smell
of coming home, of history, redolent
as the salt of black-and-white film
when I unwrap the sandwich
from the wax-paper the wax-paper
crackling like the cold grass
along the Selma to Montgomery road,
like the foil that held
Medgar's last meal, a square of tin
that is just the ghost of that barbecue
I can imagine to my tongue
when I stand at the pit with my brother
and think of all the hands and mouths
and breaths of air that sharpened
this flavor and handed it down to us,
I feel all those hands inside
my hands when it's time to spread
the table linen or lift a coffin rail
and when the smoke billows from the pit
I think of my uncle, I think of my uncle
rising, not falling, when I raise
the buttermilk and the cornmeal to the light
before giving them to the skillet
and sometimes I say the recipe
to the air and sometimes I say his name
or her name or her name
and sometimes I just set the table
because meals are memorials
that teach us how to move,
history moves in us as we raise
our voices and then our glasses
to pour a little out for those
who poured out everything for us,
we pour ourselves for them,
so they can eat again.
Posted by Rachel Johnston at 10:14 am
26 March 2013
22 March 2013
Two bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves.Carl Sandberg.
They flickered out saying:
"It was worth being a bubble, just to have held that rainbow thirty seconds."
Posted by Rachel Johnston at 10:24 am
21 March 2013
“For the 54th Venice Biennale, Karla Black amazes with a silent ballet of delicate pastel-coloured shapes which threaten to collapse under their powdery weight or to be swept away by the slightest breeze. The odd landscape reveals fields of plaster powder, make-up and clustered piles of floury paint, sugar paper topped with eye-shadow, ribbons and toothpaste. Polythene and sellotape sculptures are scattered about the pavilion with a package-like shiny transparency.
Black insists that her interest in the use of domestic materials lies in their physical properties and not in their narrative or symbolic connotations. The peculiar usage and industrial quantities of these familiar elements conjure a very unique presence and bring out previously unnoticed qualities. A precarious pile of sawdust with a perfectly flat top is echoed by a layered pyramid of topsoil or by the lofty lightness of a polystyrene volume evoking another multi-storey cake. Here and there unfurl floating crowns of colour-tinted cellophane and aerial structures of sugar paper. The walls, at times spattered with powdered paint and turf, are covered with soft colours, while in the background floats an omnipresent and distinctive smell of soap and cosmetics.”
-Marie Marie D’Elbée on her installation in the Scottish pavilion at the 2011 Venice Biennale
images via Modern Art and Claire Cottrell
20 March 2013
Last night as I was sleeping,From 'Last Night as I was Sleeping' by Antonio Machado.
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.
19 March 2013
18 March 2013
All by Thomás Libertiny
1. The Honeycomb Vase. ‘Made by bees’ (yellow edition), 2007. Beeswax. Collection MoMA New York. Photo: Raoul Kramer
2&3. The Unbearable Lightness. 2010. Beeswax, Stainless steel, Glass, Steel, Plastic, Resin. Photo: Jos Kottman
4. Vessel #2. 2011. beeswax, glass, alumnium. Photo: Studio Libertiny
Read some more about the artist here.
16 March 2013
14 March 2013
All the Flowers of the Spring
Meet to perfume our burying:
These have but their growing prime,
And man does flourish but his time.
Survey our progresse from our birth—
We are set, we grow, we turne to earth.
Courts adieu, and all delights,
All bewitching appetites!
Sweetest Breath and clearest eye
Like perfumes goe out and dye;
And consequently this is done
As shadowes wait upon the Sunne.
Vaine the ambition of Kings
Who seeke by trophies and dead things
To leave a living name behind,
And weave but nets to catch the wind.
John Webster, 1623.
p.s. Spring, please come soon...
(found via evencleveland)
Posted by Rachel Johnston at 1:01 pm