Archive for the ‘Art’ Category
Verdun and water…
Conceived and created by Devin McDermott and Ethan Folk.
Movement created and performed by Devin McDermott.
Filmed and edited by Ethan Folk.
Score: Rolled Together – The Antlers
Many, many thanks to Ryan Law, Jessica Robinson, Sarah Jo Ward, Alice Gosti, and Darcey Zoller.
Famadihana is a funerary tradition of the Malagasy people in Madagascar. Known as the turning of the bones, people bring forth the bodies of their ancestors from the family crypts and rewrap them in fresh cloth, then dance with the corpses around the tomb to live music.
Here is some other stuff from Ethan Folk.
From her website
“Christy Lee Rogers is a fine art photographer from Kailua, Hawaii. Her obsession with water as a medium for breaking the conventions of contemporary photography has led to her work being compared to Baroque painting masters like Caravaggio. Boisterous in color and complexity, Rogers applies her cunning technique to a barrage of bodies submerged in water during the night, and creates her effects naturally in-camera using the refraction of light. Through a fragile process of experimentation, she builds elaborate scenes of coalesced colors and entangled bodies that exalt the human character as one of vigor and warmth, while also capturing the beauty and vulnerability of the tragic experience that is the human condition.”
From Reckless Unbound
Christy Lee Rogers’ work enters the PostArctic endgame? as a kind of inventory of the history of Western Art, and all human narratives, bringing the human adventure (The Odyssey) together with the classic tragic elements of history (Ophelia) immersed in colour and contrast (Caravaggio) while acknowledging a return to the deep dark Sea (Moby Dick, Finnegans Wake) from where all life began. Her figures at times appear like passengers from the Titanic who, while submerged(ing), become even more free to engage, to grasp ecstasy, in this inevitable floating/sinking underworld. Is there an in-between world? In any case it’s not quite what we expected.
The light is still above, a stable, but sometimes almost violent reference creating wonderment, security and nostalgia. But the other reality, the terror of facing the depths below, where the light fades to dark, is still death and the bottom of the sea is neither Heaven nor Hell. Yes, much Biblical irony, but here it is Everyone, and the only Prophecy is no more than our own behavior and beliefs catapulting us into an unknown, unremembered, unredemptive fate based solely on humanity’s unwillingness to learn from history, seek truth and universally accept it.
The Sirens, women, whose songs are not heard under here, are no longer infamously luring ships into the rocks and sailor’s to their demise, but become pure beings without agenda, unable to help nor hinder, angels, perhaps the last observers, the ones who will be left to tell the story of humanity.
This is something I have to try!
Exercise in musical cooperation
Every spring, an interactive installation takes over a high-traffic area in Montréal’s Quartier des spectacles and sets a collective ritual. The installation offers a fresh look at the idea of cooperation, the notion that we can achieve more together than separately.
The result is a giant instrument made of 21 musical swings; each swing in motion triggers different notes, all the swings together compose a piece, but some sounds only emerge from cooperation.
The project stimulates ownership of the public space, bringing together people of all ages and backgrounds, and creating a place for playing and hanging out in the middle of the city centre.
A traveling version of the project is currently being made for these collective moments to spread around the world.
A Project by Daily tous les jours
Created by Mouna Andraos & Melissa Mongiat
Executive Producer Antoine Clayette (2012), Hugues Monfroy
Music Radwan Ghazi Moumneh
Concept Team Dominique Côté, Alexandre Landry, Yolène Leroux, Luc-Alain Giraldeau
Design Sébastien Dallaire, Alexandre Landry
Technical Direction Eva Schindling
Production Coordinator Tara DeSimone
Technological Partner ESKI
Technical Direction Vincent Leclerc
Project Manager Josiane Mercier
Programming Patrick Keroulas, Vincent de Belleval
Production Philippe Savard, Marc-André Tessier
Video Geoffrey Boulangé
Reblogged this from a soon to be dead blog because A) Everyone should read at least one page of Finnegans Wake if only once in their life, and B) I find this totally fascinating as it builds up to the last word, which was the name of the soon to be dead blog. Got it? Good, because that’ about all you might get on this post.
Finnegan’s Wake, Page 29
|haunt of the hungred bordles, as it is told me. Shop Illicit,|
|flourishing like a lordmajor or a buaboabaybohm, litting flop|
|a deadlop (aloose!) to lee but lifting a bennbranch a yardalong|
|(Ivoeh!) the breezy side (for showm!), the height of Brew-|
|ster’s chimpney and as broad below as Phineas Barnum; humph-|
|ing his share of the showthers is senken on him he’s such a|
|grandfallar, with a pocked wife in pickle that’s a flyfire and three|
|lice nittle clinkers, two twilling bugs and one midgit pucelle.|
|And aither he cursed and recursed and was everseen doing what|
|your fourfootlers saw or he was never done seeing what you cool-|
|pigeons know, weep the clouds aboon for smiledown witnesses,|
|and that’ll do now about the fairyhees and the frailyshees.|
|Though Eset fibble it to the zephiroth and Artsa zoom it round|
|her heavens for ever. Creator he has created for his creatured|
|ones a creation. White monothoid? Red theatrocrat? And all the|
|pinkprophets cohalething? Very much so! But however ’twas|
|’tis sure for one thing, what sherif Toragh voucherfors and|
|Mapqiq makes put out, that the man, Humme the Cheapner,|
|Esc, overseen as we thought him, yet a worthy of the naym,|
|came at this timecoloured place where we live in our paroqial|
|fermament one tide on another, with a bumrush in a hull of a|
|wherry, the twin turbane dhow, The Bey for Dybbling, this|
|archipelago’s first visiting schooner, with a wicklowpattern|
|waxenwench at her prow for a figurehead, the deadsea dugong|
|updipdripping from his depths, and has been repreaching him-|
|self like a fishmummer these siktyten years ever since, his shebi|
|by his shide, adi and aid, growing hoarish under his turban and|
|changing cane sugar into sethulose starch (Tuttut’s cess to him!)|
|as also that, batin the bulkihood he bloats about when innebbi-|
|ated, our old offender was humile, commune and ensectuous|
|from his nature, which you may gauge after the bynames was|
|put under him, in lashons of languages, (honnein suit and|
|praisers be!) and, totalisating him, even hamissim of himashim|
|that he, sober serious, he is ee and no counter he who will be|
|ultimendly respunchable for the hubbub caused in Eden-|
A great picture. And she appears to be reading the last page which is, quite awesome!
Lecavalier became Lock’s muse in his company La La La Human Steps. With her mane of platinum dreadlocks, her physical power and her mastery of the full-body barrel jump, which looks like a horizontal pirouette, her image was a signature for the company. She was the perfect embodiment of Lock’s frenetic and technically punishing androgynous aesthetic in works such as Human Sex (1985) and Infante, c’est destroy (1991).
Hope to see a lot of you at the vernissage this Saturday between 4 and 7, if not, please drop by during the month. I feel this is the best show I have done yet in terms of it’s scope of ideas, blending old projects with new and the ever ongoing.
4559 Rue Wellington
Metro de l’Eglise
Vernissage Saturday, April 6, 4-7
Here is a remarkable photography project using garbage dumpsters as pinhole cameras. The city of Hamburg has allowed it’s trash collectors to drill small holes into these portable bins that are loaded with large sheets of light sensitive paper. And the results are often quite stunning!
From their Flickr page -
Hamburg´s garbagemen portrait their city in the Trashcam Project – with their garbage containers. Standard 1.100 litre containers are transformed to giant pinhole cameras. With these cameras the binmen take pictures of their favourite places to show the beauty and the changes of the city they keep clean every day.
The Trashcam Project was developed by Christoph Blaschke, Mirko Derpmann, Scholz & Friends Berlin and the Hamburg sanitation department. Special thanks to Hamburg based photographer Matthias Hewing (www.matthiashewing.de/) for his professional advice and the challenging lab work with the giant negatives.
Garbageman Hans-Dieter Braatz is taking a picture with a 1.100 litre garbage container transformed into a pinhole camera. It will take 2 minutes of framing and one hour waiting. Picture taken by Mirko Derpmann with a fuji gw690 on Fuji Velvia.
The Speicherstadt in Hamburg photographed with a garbage container by
Hans-Dieter Braatz, Christoph Blaschke and Mirko Derpmann. Shot on a 106×80 cm sheet of ilford multigrade with an hour exposure time.
The skyline of the Hafencity in Hamburg photographed with a pinhole garbage container by garbageman Hans-Peter Strahl, Christoph Blaschke and Mirko Derpmann. Shot on a 106×80 cm sheet of ilford multigrade with six minutes exposure time.
Garbageman Roland Wilhelm takes a picture of himself and his trashcam with a second trashcam. Photographed with a pinhole garbage container by Roland Wilhelm, Christoph Blaschke and Mirko Derpmann at the site of Hamburg´s wase collecting service. Shot on a 106×80 cm sheet of ilford multigrade with six minutes exposure time. Please show some respect for Rolands fantastic ability to not move.
The Marco Polo Tower photographed with a 1.100 litre garbage container by Michael Pfohlmann, Christoph Blaschke and Mirko Derpmann. Shot on Ilford Multigrade with 10 minutes exposure time.
And here is a video, in German, explaining the project.
All this reminds me of Alex Colville’s painting, Pacific.
This fellow has evolved to where he now occupies the potential last chapter of history where the only options are waiting and suicide. He is the typical postarctic human no longer required to take action or even consider it. It’s a nice day, and there may be some more, who knows?
PLATE 2: WE REACH THE FRONTIER OF THE BURYAT TERRITORY AND DISCOVER A PYRAMID OF PRAYER FLAGS. Well over a month since we parachuted onto the Siberian Steppe. Flat, featureless country still; it is impossible to judge scale and distance, havoc is wreaked with depth perception. Last week Bindon strode excitedly towards what he thought was a “bloody enormous oak, all the way out here, imagine that”, only to mysteriously lose sight of it and trip over a thorny shrub towering some three feet above the ground. Yesterday several hours were wasted stalking a tundra Grizzly that turned out to be a marmot.* I am reminded of accounts of fabulous Arctic mirages in the journals of early explorers, shimmering images of urban city skylines or distant mountain ranges caused by inversions in the lower atmosphere. So today, when we spot a pyramid of prayer flags on the distant horizon, Bindon insists on approaching it with abnormal caution, constantly reaching out to see if he can touch it. Our sense of awe, when we finally reach the object, is palpable – we appear to have arrived at the Buryat frontier.
*A Swedish explorer travelling in the Arctic in the late part of the 19th century recalled sketching in his journal a craggy headland with two unusually symmetrical glaciers, the whole of it being part of a large island, only to discover he was looking at a walrus. However, the most disorienting optical phenomenon in the Arctic regions is surely the white-out. It occurs most frequently during periods of blizzard or fog, when every perspective yields an unvarying, all-pervasive whiteness.
PLATE 43: WE ATTEND THE FUNERAL OF A SHAMAN KILLED IN THE BATTLE WITH THE NKVD. We put off our search for Westcott to attend Tusput’s funeral. The other world, Balog tells us, is an inverted image of this world. Everything that goes on here is reversed after death. Day on earth is night in the other world; scarce game here means plentiful game in the hereafter; there, the rivers flow backwards to their sources; what is broken here is made whole; Tusput, sad in life, will be happy in the beyond.
The Buryat believe that if certain privileged persons, especially their shamans, are placed on a platform above the circular river, and fire is set to them and their trappings – their drum, mask, quiver, etc.- they will ascend quickly to the heavens with the smoke. It is not so much death as an initiation. All those who die a violent death will mount the sky. Tusput is fortunate not to have died from disease, for disease is provoked by the hungry spirits of the dead.
The top-hatted sect, as masters of the dead, stage the funeral, set Tusput’s sled on stilts in the river and lead the great procession with his coffin. It is their job to lead the dead to their final abode, their faces daubed with soot and guano into a rude skull to convince them into forsaking the land of the living. The top-hats hold a great banquet by the banks of the river, and for this alone many come from far and wide to attend Tusput’s funeral. Much fermented mare’s milk is offered, and the seance gradually becomes more lively, almost grotesque as all the Buryat in their finery take to quarrelling, but Balog assures us that the fighting is only to insure there would be calm and peace to greet Tusput in the beyond.