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Category Archives: art

My present
of composing’s
involved with the
of imperfections in the paper
on which I happen
to be

– John Cage (Silence, 1961)

4’33” (Reflection of NeuCage) | download

. . . advice = L.L.L.oud! . . .

Train Video

I’ve got nothing to say, and I am saying it,
and that is poetry as I need it.
-John Cage.

Its time to practice writing got to practice to perfect a literary (read: acceptable [read: able to be analyzed] ) style of marking words down words down words down in sufficient order maybe a sentence is just a chronological list based on a language based on translation of an idea from some nonlinguistic space place in the mind maybe a language you can understand is one that fits the proper time dimension in yr mind & time traveling is as easy as translating this sentence into spanish the adjectives begin to arrive after the nouns the nouns after the nouns after the nouns after nouns the after nouns the nouns after the nouns are moving faster in time |.now.|

But what i meant to say was its time to practice writing by choosing something nearby & jotting down phrases & meaningless rhyming couplets or nearly rhyming quintuplets something or maybe anything abt or not exactly but metaphorically related to that thing i chose just a minute ago to quote write abt unquote i might hint at its color reminding me of childhood family trips & then slowly move towards how i could never relate to the phrase ‘family trip’ bc on tv movies books or even bill hicks records a family trip meant brothers & sisters & moms & dads & it was just me & mom & dad so id always just say me & mom & dad & thats who was on the trip not the ‘family’ but i wouldnt really say all that id just hint at it by mentioning the color of the thing (you remember the thing from earlier, right?) the thing’s color & maybe shape & where it is relative to others like it nearby or not so nearby maybe maybe! i could pick it up & hold it reminisce abt other things (like it or otherwise) that ive held, not everything of course bc that would go on for a long time or maybe it wouldnt, which would also be of note, & i could write abt all of the things not like this thing that i am holding that i wish i had, or in literary terms, regret having not held which to some readers might seem as overkill or excessive & in fact may seem like a cheap means of getting to the modern standard autobiographical poetic sorry-for-ourselves style many have become accustomed to in these new-millenium or even some may call it (excuse my vague politcs:) post-nine-eleven (ah! for shame!) times in which we live but lets get back to the thing eventually i would choose to put it down & certainly that would call for a simple one or two lines somehow indicating that i, the writer, & you, the reader, are now to recall times in the past or even, and likely even more sorrowful, in the future (near or distant, not that it matters much but it is relevant, i think we can all agree) that we have or will have to let go of something or someone in infinite degrees of importance, & i would likely find a way to show that really this letting go (or moving on, or even abandoning, if you will) is what is important at least for me, the writer, not so much the level of emotional (or otherwise) importance & although its quite important in the long run, for the sake of this piece of writing it would be made distinctly separate for the purpose of indicating whatever the final meaning may eventually turn out to be

Well no, i guess what i should have said was its time now to practice writing abt that lone solemn stone, wise amongst its neighbors a fading once deep red like a myrtle beach sunset, although really the sunsets better down on floridas gulf coast walking in & out of in & out of walking in & out of floridas gulf coast walking in & out of floridas gulf coast walking in & out of the surf wishing i could stay one or eight steps away from my parents man im such a nerd out here tossing each fresh smooth youthfulness out to the ocean skipping twice maybe three times crap that was a good one i should have grabbed it (instead?)

Summer Evening

Looking for Oil
3 minute video

I heard Barrett Whatten speak a few months ago, a presentation he called “Against Ekphrasis.” I have been trying to come to terms with this idea since then. Ekphrasis has many extended connotations and nuances of meaning, but its base definition denotes poetry or poetic writing that provokes highly visual imagery. “Against ekphrasis” is a stance that claims the concreteness of words on their own terms: the word “red,” for example, referring not to the color, but to the word. When you extend this idea to media other than words, it leads to an examination of the meaning inherent in the medium itself, stripping away all metaphor and symbolism. (And from here it is a small step to musing about the idea itself as a concrete entity, independent of any referrent – but I digress.)

Yet I pause and wonder if this is altogether possible. Can we ever perceive the medium as sole content independent of its cultural role? Is it possible, for example, to view a photograph, not as a cultural object but as a collection of captured light?

Being an intermedia artist, I am particularly interested in the conceptual boundaries between things. In an installation when you place objects in the same room, they become related. By being in the same perceptual space, there exists between the objects an intermedium, itself a third meaning. Likewise, images seen together cause us to create meanings in their relationships. Words placed in the same perceptual space as these images multiply this effect. Working against ekphrasis, questioning assumed references, stripping away and examining the layers of acquired cultural meaning, is an important deconstructive step in the conceptual processes of creating artwork – it pops you into a new point of view. What really interests me, however, is the step beyond this deconstructive process, when the pieces are reconstructed to create something else.

“Five” video

500 Years of Female Portraits in Western Art

By Eggman913

Contemporary African Cinema:The Emergence of an Independent Cinema in Nigeria

“The ability to picture oneself is a vital need. In fact, if a man were to live without the capacity of forging a picture of himself, he would have no aspirations, no desires, and no dreams of his own.

The same applies to a community, a society, and a people. A society daily subjected to foreign images eventually loses its identity and its capacity to forge its own identity.

The development of Africa implies, among other things, the production of its own images.”


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Camera LucidaHidden in the shadows of posh antique stores lurk secondhand shops. These overlooked treasures are bursting with both history and small remnants of human life–reminders of those that have flitted in and out of this world leaving behind nothing but a stack of photos or a selective record collection. You walk through the doors, your fingerprints joining the other smudges on the doors glass window. Dank and musty smelling, walking room is limited to a six inch space between the chipped china and the basket of ripped stuffed animals. Stuck in the back, there is inevitably two or three large bins filled with photographs. Subjects range from traditional family portraits to spontaneous snapshots on the family hike. A certain sadness encompasses this area of the store. The bins hold the lives and memorials of more people than a small cemetery. As you idly flip through the photos, nothing arrests you. You toss aside the remnants of hundreds of people’s lives with barely a second thought. And then, one grabs you.

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