hannah vannevar

Avida Dollars and a Nation's Ruling

2011-07-14T08:03:00.000-07:00

Salvador Dali, "Portrait of Paul Eluard" from 1929, set a world auction record for a Surrealist work of art at Sotheby's London, February, 2011.

__________________________________

As Spain has prevailed over the late artist's heirs in attaining the intellectual rights to Salvador Dali's estate of 15,000 works, so has the artist's own paranoiac-critical method succeeded, beyond the framework of art production and further toward a literally willed nationalist identity. This is Dali's victory. The Dali that returned to Spain in 1949, to spend his remaining years in his beloved Catalonia, passing over the criticism from progressive thinkers and many other artists against his choice to live in Spain while it was ruled by Franco, for heartland.

Dali's work did fly against the conventional violence of his modern era. Against the philistine minds of mobs, fascist thugs, and anti-Semites, but he was also the self-made high champion of exclusivity. Of talent with a capital t and claimed genius. It would be Dali's ego and imperious values that would come to define him at large. He would turn increasingly toward Catholicism for conformist reasons, however ecstatic. He possessed a flamboyantly shrewd apolitical ideology, allowing Dali to define his entity more and more by nationalist terms as he found himself at odds with other artists and intellects over ideology.

While the majority of the Surrealist artists had become associated with left leaning politics - André Breton was explicit in his assertion that Surrealism was above all a revolutionary movement - Dalí maintained an ambiguous position on the subject of the proper relationship between politics and art. Breton went so far as to accuse Dalí of defending the "new" and "irrational" in "the Hitler phenomenon." Dalí rejected this claim, saying, "I am Hitlerian neither in fact nor intention." Dali never appears to be a truly fascist sympathiser but he does display the views of a reactionist conservative. In 1934, Dalí was subjected to a "trial", in which he was formally expelled from the Surrealist group. To this, Dalí retorted, "I myself am surrealism." The final word here perfectly expresses Dali's autocratic fantasies. Later Breton coined the derogatory nickname "Avida Dollars", an anagram for Salvador Dalí, and a phonetic rendering of the French avide à dollars, which may be translated as "eager for dollars".

The Spanish Civil War began in July 1936 and officially ended with Franco's victory in April 1939, leaving 190,000 to 500,000 dead. The nationalist side was supported by Fascist Italy, and later by Nazi Germany, which assisted with the Condor Legion infamous for their bombing of Guernica in April 1937. Curiously, Franco is also famous for his apolitical record and being Catholic. Franco lost a lot of common ground with Hitler due to Hitler's propagation of Nazi mysticism and his attempts to manipulate Christianity, which went against Franco's fervent commitment to defending Christianity and Catholicism. His ascendency can be characterized as being driven by a duty toward power. With the fall of the monarchy in 1932 Franco rose to be a monolithic dictator with the same climate of derangement and liquidation as is apparent on Dali's canvases.

Fried Egg on the Plate without the Plate, 1932

On 22 November, 1975, two days after the death of dictator Francisco Franco, Juan Carlos was designated king according to the law of succession promulgated by Franco. King Juan Carlos oversaw the transition of Spain from a dictatorship to parliamentary democracy. In 1982, Juan Carlos bestowed on Dalí the title of Marqués de Dalí de Púbol in the nobility of Spain, hereby referring to Púbol, the place where he lived. The title was in first instance hereditary, but on request of Dalí changed for life only in 1983. To show his gratitude for this, Dalí later gave the king a drawing (Head of Europa, which would turn out to be Dalí's final drawing) after the king visited him on his deathbed.

On January 23, 1989, while his favorite record of Tristan and Isolde played, he died of heart failure at Figueres at the age of 84. He is buried in the crypt of his Teatro Museo in Figueres. The location is across the street from the church of Sant Pere, where he had his baptism, first communion, and funeral, and is three blocks from the house where he was born. In his will, Dalí designated the Spanish state as the only heir of his intellectual property rights, stipulating that the revenue should be divided between the national government and the Catalonian town of Figueres, his hometown and the place of his death.

Coming full circle in July, 2011, following decisions by the European Court of Justice and a Parisian district court, Spain has prevailed over the droit de suite — payments received by artists or their heirs when their work is resold in Europe — from sales of Salvador Dalí's artworks. Dali's living heirs have now lost the estate, and face making payments. So goes the victory to Dali's individual rights and to cunning national egoism.

Dali's will proved to be operating with time on his side, even in his death. Dali's posthumous achievement simultaneously discloses a philosophy for the supremacy of the individual and the supremacy of the state, with high regard for self-determination, ethical reasoning, and the soul's command over nature. The spoils go to a very fabulous artist-cum statist with grand romantic notions about the grace of god with Spain.

ARTINFO: A Surreal Legal Ruling Sends Salvador Dalí's Resale Royalties to Spain, Not His Descendants

Trophy Art - Solid

2011-07-13T08:32:00.000-07:00

Cecily Brown, "I Will Not Paint Any More Boring Leaves (2)," 2004, sold for $844,000
at Phillips de Pury & Comapny, London

_____________________________________

Melancholy surrounds domestic and national debts across gross international markets.
For a more bright view point on the economic climate look toward the art markets. Where else would one expect to see muscular spending that exhibits the heroic recovery of absolute wealth. Where buyers determine the highest going value on property aquired to act as status trophies fell to a game of investment and visceral reward. Demonstrating the power to determine a place above topical tides is the means for qualifying status amongst the world-class. To be of wealth and standing has returned to a classic form of generational domain above the eyeline of a designed democratic mass. Merit is the substance, and material matters most.

The season's closing bell at once carries with it the excitement of an opeing bell, declairing a monied august with a prevailing appetite for art.
Let's face it, luxury does not know misfortune. Our dear affluent have only now returned from a pause, with an enlivened sense of conservative values and giving commercially minded good-times to heavyweights.

"After Venice, after Basel, and a long spring of auctions in New York, there's still an appetite for contemporary art."
said Michael McGinnis, worldwide head of Phillips' contemporary department.

It seems official, for the time being: "The contemporary market has replaced Impressionism and the modern market as the leading collecting field." Neal Meltzer, a private dealer and former head of contemporary art at Christie's.

Who's the art world's biggest spender? On the basis of recent acquisitions of Impressionist paintings, and works by Picasso and Bacon, among others, perhaps Sheikh Saud bin Mohammad bin Ali al-Thani, a member of the Qatar royal family.

http://artnews.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=3349

http://www.artinfo.com/news/story/37984/basquiat-led-a-band-of-younger-art-stars-in-phillips-de-purys-17-million-contemporary-sale-in-london/?page=1

2011-01-11T07:48:00.000-08:00

photo courtesy of audubonmagazine.org

_______________________________________

POEM

Mystery and Solitude in Topeka

BY MARK STRAND

Afternoon darkens into evening. A man falls deeper and deeper into the slow spiral of sleep, into the drift of it, the length of it, through what feels like mist, and comes at last to an open door through which he passes without knowing why, then again without knowing why goes to a room where he sits and waits while the room seems to close around him and the dark is darker than any he has known, and he feels something forming within him without being sure what it is, its hold on him growing, as if a story were about to unfold, in which two characters, Pleasure and Pain, commit the same crime, the one that is his, that he will confess to again and again, until it means nothing.

2010-12-31T08:11:00.001-08:00

&

Two variations of the One Minute Sculpture
Erwin Wurm
and inspired by Erwin Wurm

___________________________

One Minute Desire (Another Minute, Another Poem)

Three
faces of
Jans La Maladie

turning
for
views

through
the
market
place

with
those
murdered
lenses

Face plated
964 1990
cabriole

intoxicating
market
fragrance.

Roses,
perfumes.
Smoked
meats.
Axel
Grease.

- RLS

2010-12-31T08:00:00.000-08:00

Erwin Wurn
'One Minute Sculptures' (1954)

______________________________

One Minute Desire

Murky rugs
in the bank
black marble
lobby with
heavy
rugs
and curtains

6 monitors
mustard
run fringe
on
burgundy blood
rugs and

lumps of
teeming
pugs.

-RLS

2010-12-31T07:46:00.000-08:00

Barnett Newman
'The Voice' (1950)

________________

Recital
2010

“The life of
a dead man
With a compass
in the palm
of his hand.”

As depicted
in an essay
recited by
the recently
showered beauty
queen.

Teeth of tapioca
eviscerated pearls
in warm skein
sequenced vaseline
fish guts
wishes to
hand blown
wished paid
out
on
faith.

to the
invention of
superstition
fiction.

Blown into
crystal,
hand polished
in very
cold waters

strung in saliva.

Sinuous neck
heaving in
the heat
under a black
and blue joyous
black bag
like the side
of a run horse

-RLS

2010-12-31T07:22:00.000-08:00

Gilbert & George
'Great Expectations'

__________________

Barritone Shaving
2010

His barritone voice,
a bruised mahogony
mantle piece -
with the scent
of wet
tent-like
piled planks
Also elder bushes
and long grass
rippled with
collapsing snow.

-RLS

2010-09-17T21:44:00.000-07:00

________

Nasreen Mohamedi

___________

POEM
The Prelude

___________

BY MATTHEW ZAPRUDER

Oh this Diet Coke is really good,
though come to think of it it tastes
like nothing plus the idea of chocolate,
or an acquaintance of chocolate
speaking fondly of certain times
it and chocolate had spoken of nothing,
or nothing remembering a field
in which it once ate the most wondrous
sandwich of ham and rustic chambered cheese
yet still wished for a piece of chocolate
before the lone walk back through
the corn then the darkening forest
to the disappointing village and its super
creepy bed and breakfast. With secret despair
I returned to the city. Something
seemed to be waiting for me.
Maybe the “chosen guide” Wordsworth
wrote he would even were it “nothing
better than a wandering cloud”
have followed which of course to me
and everyone sounds amazing.
All I follow is my own desire,
sometimes to feel, sometimes to be
at least a little more than intermittently
at ease with being loved. I am never
at ease. Not with hours I can read or walk
and look at the brightly colored
houses filled with lives, not with night
when I lie on my back and listen,
not with the hallway, definitely
not with baseball, definitely
not with time. Poor Coleridge, son
of a Vicar and a lake, he could not feel
the energy. No present joy, no cheerful
confidence, just love of friends and the wind
taking his arrow away. Come to the edge
the edge beckoned softly. Take
this cup full of darkness and stay as long
as you want and maybe a little longer.

2010-09-17T21:40:00.000-07:00

________

Nasreen Mohamedi

2010-09-17T21:39:00.000-07:00

________

Nasreen Mohamedi

2010-09-17T21:36:00.000-07:00

________

Nasreen Mohamedi

________

I clutched at sounds -
I groped at shapes -
I touched the tops of Films -
I felt the Wilderness roll back
Along my Golden lines -

The Sackcloth - hangs upon the nail -
The Frock I used to wear -
But where my movement of brocade -
My - drop - of India?

E. Dickinson 'Poem no, 544'

2010-09-17T21:35:00.002-07:00

________

Nasreen Mohamedi

2010-09-17T21:35:00.001-07:00

________

Nasreen Mohamedi

2010-09-17T21:31:00.000-07:00

________

Nasreen Mohamedi

________

We miss Her, not because We see --
The Absence of an Eye -
Except its Mind accompany
Abridge Society

As slightly as the Route of Stars -
Ourselves - asleep below -
We know that their superior Eyes
Include Us - as the go -

-Emily DIckinson

2010-09-16T12:56:00.002-07:00

___________

[H A B I T S]

Meaninglessnesslessness
Some words/phrases not otherwise used in this book*:

Borghesesque
Cognitive relativism
Cybertarianist
Derridian
Foucaultian
Gender paradigm
Hegemonic discourse
Icky
Interactionism
Manichaen
Minoritizing
Narratology
Overdetermined
Post-rock
Problematize
Queerness
Redactionary
Sexual modalities
Supermeneutically hyperexegetic
Unpack(ed)
Virtualization
Whiteness

* On The Magnetic Fields, 69 Love Songs - "69 Love Songs", by LD Beghtol

2010-09-16T12:56:00.001-07:00

2010-08-29T10:40:00.000-07:00

A Portrait of John Singer Sargent

2010-08-29T10:24:00.000-07:00

Drew Struzman - for thirty years painter Drew Struzman turned out some of Hollywood's most memorable posters for films like E.T., Raiders of the Lost Ark, and Jurassic Park. That work is now being celebrated in the book The Art of Drew Struzman, due out September 14.

2010-08-29T10:22:00.000-07:00

2010-08-27T12:40:00.000-07:00

A Poem for the Cruel Majority

BY JEROME ROTHENBERG

The cruel majority emerges!

Hail to the cruel majority!

They will punish the poor for being poor.
They will punish the dead for having died.

Nothing can make the dark turn into light
for the cruel majority.
Nothing can make them feel hunger or terror.

If the cruel majority would only cup their ears
the sea would wash over them.
The sea would help them forget their wayward children.
It would weave a lullaby for young & old.

(See the cruel majority with hands cupped to their ears,
one foot is in the water, one foot is on the clouds.)

One man of them is large enough to hold a cloud
between his thumb & middle finger,
to squeeze a drop of sweat from it before he sleeps.

He is a little god but not a poet.
(See how his body heaves.)

The cruel majority love crowds & picnics.
The cruel majority fill up their parks with little flags.
The cruel majority celebrate their birthday.

Hail to the cruel majority again!

The cruel majority weep for their unborn children,
they weep for the children that they will never bear.
The cruel majority are overwhelmed by sorrow.

(Then why are the cruel majority always laughing?
Is it because night has covered up the city's walls?
Because the poor lie hidden in the darkness?
The maimed no longer come to show their wounds?)

Today the cruel majority vote to enlarge the darkness.

They vote for shadows to take the place of ponds
Whatever they vote for they can bring to pass.
The mountains skip like lambs for the cruel majority.

Hail to the cruel majority!
Hail! hail! to the cruel majority!

The mountains skip like lambs, the hills like rams.
The cruel majority tear up the earth for the cruel majority.
Then the cruel majority line up to be buried.

Those who love death will love the cruel majority.

Those who know themselves will know the fear
the cruel majority feel when they look in the mirror.

The cruel majority order the poor to stay poor.
They order the sun to shine only on weekdays.

The god of the cruel majority is hanging from a tree.
Their god's voice is the tree screaming as it bends.
The tree's voice is as quick as lightning as it streaks across the sky.

(If the cruel majority go to sleep inside their shadows,
they will wake to find their beds filled up with glass.)

Hail to the god of the cruel majority!
Hail to the eyes in the head of their screaming god!

Hail to his face in the mirror!

Hail to their faces as they float around him!

Hail to their blood & to his!

Hail to the blood of the poor they need to feed them!
Hail to their world & their god!

Hail & farewell!
Hail & farewell!
Hail & farewell!

2010-08-25T18:49:00.000-07:00

by bird invisible rescinded it's song
while the sun a drop of vinegar in
milk curdled the sky

2010-08-25T18:45:00.000-07:00

Tamaryn, LP "The Waves"

2010-08-25T18:43:00.000-07:00

John Singer Sargent
Nonchaloir (Repose), 1911
oil on canvas
25 1/8 x 30 inches (64 x 76 cm.)

2010-08-25T18:34:00.000-07:00

John Singer Sargent
Portrait (study) of
Mrs. William Crowninshield Endicott
29" X 20"
Pencil on paper
1903

2010-08-18T18:10:00.000-07:00

2010-08-18T18:04:00.000-07:00

_____________

Robert Pinsky
Death and the Powers: A Robot Pageant
(abstract)

I want my sugar, my touch,
I want my sweet milk
My meat and my misery
My touch and my milk-
I want my mother!

2010-08-18T17:57:00.000-07:00

In his essay of 1954, "Building, Dwelling, Thinking," Martin Heidegger provides us with a critical vantage point from which to behold this phenomenon of universal placelessness..."A boundary is not that at which something stops, but, as the Greeks recognized, the boundary is that from which something begins its presencing.

2010-08-17T20:57:00.001-07:00

2010-08-17T20:54:00.000-07:00

2010-08-17T20:06:00.000-07:00

2010-08-17T18:43:00.000-07:00

Coleen Green

_____________

AVERILL CURDY

{Abstract} Chimera

Rashes and Abrasions of spring
Leaf stem vine blossom aphid & berry
Stridulent intricate and promiscuous

2010-08-17T16:51:00.000-07:00

2010-08-15T22:16:00.000-07:00

_____________________

"Nineteen Thirty-Eight"
Charles Simic

That was the year the Nazis marched into Vienna,
Superman made his debut in Action Comics,
Stalin was killing off his fellow revolutionaries,
The first Dairy Queen opened in Kankakee, Ill.,
As I lay in my crib peeing in my diapers.

2010-08-15T22:08:00.000-07:00

___________________

The Impossible Man
J. Robert Lennon
Paris Review, Issue 192, Spring 2010

In another context, this guy would be hilarious. In a movie, for instance. He had a Charlie Manson thing going—Clay thought he might bust out into ooga-boogas at any second. The knife was a hunting knife, with a dark gray nonreflective blade, some kind of composite material. It looked expensive. The guy doubtless had stolen it. Clay said, “OK,” and reached for his wallet.

2010-08-15T21:41:00.000-07:00

Lace Laces & Boots

2010-08-15T21:36:00.000-07:00

Bologna Market Meats

_____________________

AVERILL CURDY

"chimera"

I will take your stormy heart and give you one of flesh.

2010-08-15T12:16:00.000-07:00

Desert Fire #153 (Man with Rifle) Richard Misrach

2010-08-11T12:29:00.000-07:00

‘Psycho Buildings’: Saraceno invokes visionary architect Buckminster Fuller as well as Austrian experimentalists Haus-Rucker-Co; Mike Nelson’s theatrical trashing of one of the galleries could almost have been a messier, malevolent version of Michael Asher’s ‘institutional critique’.

2010-08-11T12:21:00.000-07:00

Arman, Home Sweet Home, 1960
Accumulation of gas masks in a box closed with Plexiglas
160 x 140.5 x 20 cm

2010-08-11T12:15:00.000-07:00

Gerhard Richter
11 Scheiben
11 Panes
2004
292 cm X 200 cm X 56 cm
Glass and wood construction

2010-08-11T12:11:00.000-07:00

Gerhard Richter, Ema-Akt auf einer Treppe, Ema (Nude on a Staircase), 1966, oil on canvas, 200 x 130 cm, Schenkung Ludwig 1976

2010-08-11T12:06:00.000-07:00

Gerhard Richter, 'Demonstration for Capitalist Realism,' 1963.

2010-08-11T09:39:00.000-07:00

Moules et Frites, Salade Niçoise, Mimosas. 78 degrees.

2010-08-11T09:36:00.000-07:00

CRASH, Bologna, IT

2010-08-11T09:34:00.001-07:00

donald judd and kinder in their comfort zone. MMK, Frankfurt am Main.

2010-08-10T16:26:00.000-07:00

POEM
Chimera

BY AVERILL CURDY

__________________[abstract - in two parts]

I will take your stony heart and give you one of flesh.
The wake sewing shut those white lips
and after when leagues and all behind to salt
fell the grateful Spaniards prayed
It became their habit to turn eyes sore away
from surfeit Rashes and abrasions of spring
leaf stem vine blossom aphid & berry stridulant
intricate and promiscuous without the rose
or borage or pomegranate embowered
in flaunting silks on gauntlet cuffs No
none of that repose their soldier-love required to root

* * *

The air flexing began to bruise green around them
the fresh human injury of them Like flies
trapped in a bottle they didn’t know what to do
and carried on doing it
while bird by bird invisible rescinded its song
while the sun a drop of vinegar in milk curdled the sky
Quiet sumptuous as pain eased by what hand
abrupt as that held in the breath
exhausted just before the witch confesses

2010-08-10T16:18:00.000-07:00

POEM
God’s Promises

BY PAUL HOOVER

_________________[abstract]

My habitation is a wasteland
of furniture from motel rooms.
I will send the ostrich and badger
in herds through your wrecked rooms;
your beds will be entered by turnstile;
the floor will seethe with bees.
For my house is but a prefab;
its roof lets in my rain.

2010-08-10T15:01:00.001-07:00

2010-08-09T12:46:00.001-07:00

2010-08-09T12:35:00.001-07:00

echo and the bunnymen, the cutter [video], screengrab

2010-08-08T07:06:00.000-07:00

"Mountain stars are not these apologetic pinpricks over conurb skies; hanging plump they drip lite."
~Sonmi, Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell

2010-08-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

It was a soft day the temperature of blood.

2010-08-06T21:01:00.000-07:00

"a river is peace, a canal is torment"

2010-08-06T20:48:00.000-07:00

fever ray

____________________________

robert p. baird, the labyrinth

torn turned and tattered
bowed burned and battered
i took untensed tine by the teeth
and bade it bear me banking
out over the walled welter
cities and the sea
through the lightsmocked birdpocked cloudcocked sky
to leave me light on a lilting planetesimal.

the stone walls wailed and whimpered
the bold stars paled and dimpled
godgone time gathered to a grunt
and bore me bled and breaking
on past parted palisades
windrows and the trees
over a windcloaked nightsoaked starpoked sea
to drop me where? deep in a decadent's dream.

2010-08-06T20:45:00.000-07:00

>
fever ray, when i grow up, screengrab

___________

amino acids
of the flushed cheek

I washed my body in the river
and the river went numb

2010-08-05T21:18:00.001-07:00

Landscape Made from Egg and Sperm - By Sandra Simonds

Abstract:

Because Yosemite's high altitude lake's
tadpoles wash up in
glow-in-the-dark condoms
and every fish lip has a hook in it. Because
there's bird shit
in the clouds. Things catch, get caught.
Things are consumed.

2010-08-05T21:15:00.000-07:00

Death and the Powers: A Robot Pageant - By Robert Pinsky

Abstract:

This is what it is like:
When you stand on a high building
Or on a bridge and you want to jump off

Something in you wants to jump off,
To feel what it might be like to fall.

You can jump. You can fall.
You call fall forever, and do it again.

You are free to keep on falling forever
You are free to fall and change your mind
And drift back up.

2010-08-05T20:45:00.000-07:00

Maurizio Cattelan, Untitled, 2007. Two taxidermied dogs and two chicks.

2010-08-05T20:43:00.000-07:00

Maurizio Cattelan, All, 2007. Marble.

2010-08-05T20:41:00.001-07:00

Maurizio Cattelan, Untitled, 2009. Horse skin, fiberglass and resin.

.... However highly human activity, change and movement are valued, in most cases man moves, walks, comes and goes in a long, filiform cage. He who has four very familiar walls as a horizon isn't so very different from he who travels along the same roads every day to fulfill tasks which are always the same, in much the same circumstances. All this tiring oneself is not worth the mutual, tacit kiss between a plant and the earth.
.... But all this is nothing but a sophism. Each time 'I die more like a man and that death covers me in thorns and layers of chlorophyll.
~ santiago dabove, 'being dust' (abstract)

2010-08-03T11:51:00.001-07:00

Rehearsal of a Cross-Dressing Stepfather, by Sally O'Reilly and Zoe Peppe

2010-07-29T15:01:00.000-07:00

brian eno

_________

we conjecture that the 'brave new world' was the work of a secret society of astronomers, biologists, engineers, metaphysicians, poets, chemists, mathematicians, moralists, painters, and geometricians, all under the supervision of unknown genius.
~ jorge louis borges, Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius

2010-07-29T12:29:00.000-07:00

rosewood

_________

in such ways can the dead mingle with the living - or those who pretend to be alive! whilst the old whore offered him her vile flesh - and, oh god!, in such language - he was hearing his sister, devoured by fish a quarter of a century before, enjoining him to worship god and love the poor.
~ leon bloy, anything you want!...

2010-07-29T10:22:00.000-07:00

2010-07-29T10:15:00.000-07:00

last night, a man in a raincoat...

2010-07-29T10:07:00.000-07:00

Psychiatrist: Your parents say you're always lying.
Antoine Doinel: Oh, I lie now and then, I suppose. Sometimes I'd tell them the truth and they still wouldn't believe me, so I prefer to lie.

2010-07-29T10:02:00.000-07:00

Beatrice: If only I could believe what I have dreamed, that my childhood dream has overtaken me, and that a door on which a knock will soon be heard will open and will tell me once again that it is time for me to wake from sleep.
Orsino, tell me: is it really a family law that fathers must rid themselves of their sons before possessing their daughters?

2010-07-28T16:41:00.000-07:00

"we've got to make this town a decent sort of mess." A bloody dogfight interrupted his passage as he turned the corner. He saw a knot of backs and legs in a whirlwind of howls and then bared teeth and one dog dragging a limb, its tail between it's legs.

2010-07-28T16:37:00.000-07:00

We sat and drank, each with a separate past locked up in him, and fate's alarm clocks set at unrelated futures - when at last, a wrist was cocked, and eyes of consorts met...

2010-07-28T16:31:00.000-07:00

Cegestius: You gave me my name!
Poet: I can hardly recognize you. You used to be blonde.

2010-07-28T16:29:00.000-07:00

2010-07-28T16:27:00.000-07:00

2010-07-28T16:24:00.000-07:00

2010-07-28T14:53:00.000-07:00

Bratwursts exult as they burst and spatter in grease!
The ruffed grouse talk through their thrush mouths, those devout
Roasted putto with golden apple kraut
"Welcome! Welcome! And be home!" returning to their rubbled chatter.

2010-07-28T14:50:00.001-07:00

I almost gaze my eyes out
To tears too blurred to see
Don't break on me
When the backhanded scene
Is cleaned

2010-07-28T14:49:00.000-07:00

2010-07-28T14:41:00.000-07:00

bruce conner

2010-07-28T14:40:00.002-07:00

bruce conner

2010-07-28T14:40:00.001-07:00

bruce conner

2010-07-28T14:36:00.001-07:00

2010-07-25T12:58:00.000-07:00

francesca woodman

2010-07-25T12:52:00.001-07:00

pipilotti rist

2010-07-25T12:49:00.002-07:00

pipilotti rist

2010-07-25T12:49:00.001-07:00

2010-07-24T21:18:00.001-07:00

heart, my heart, be not discouraged
and accept your fate
think that the world has left you still,
and how lovely that is

2010-07-24T21:17:00.000-07:00

Dinner for two
Mixed drinks
On my knees as it passes through me
I've never been sick like this before
Nothing like this before
The room started spinning
You call a prescription
And leave
You put this sickness on me

2010-07-24T21:15:00.000-07:00

the man who fell to earth

2010-07-24T21:07:00.000-07:00

persona - andersson/ullman

2010-07-24T21:06:00.002-07:00

2010-07-24T21:06:00.001-07:00

2010-07-24T21:05:00.002-07:00

2010-07-24T21:05:00.001-07:00

2010-07-24T21:04:00.000-07:00

2010-07-24T20:58:00.004-07:00

2010-07-24T20:58:00.003-07:00

2010-07-24T20:58:00.001-07:00

2010-07-24T20:57:00.002-07:00

2010-07-24T20:57:00.001-07:00

2010-07-24T20:56:00.000-07:00

2010-07-24T20:49:00.002-07:00