spent today writing a 20 page faith statement:
qouted: derrida, the gospels of john and matthew, the psalms, william coffin, woltaire, jeremiah, his eyes were on the sparrow, luther, mehniraha tantra, schileebeckx, st john crysolom, kris kistofferson, henrique pinto, ezra taft benson, bob dylan, augustine, justin the martyr, jefferson, hans kung, dante gaberiel rosetti, alone in all her flesh, emily dickinson, page frane, andres serrano, christimi rosetti, george herber, wilde, sarte, cathechism, bataille, kristevia, spong, george grey, the world council of churches, first cornithnas, carravagia, the koran, revealations, egyption mythology, OED, Shakespeare, Chaucer, hank williams, calvin, borges, jansen, holbein, dante, jan hus, whitman and the second law of thermodynamics.
emailed to 7 people (gerard, ray, d, rachel, andrew, glenys, geoff)...anyone want to give ti a shot
Friday, April 14, 2006
Young people have lost that deference to their elders on which the social order depends; they reject all correction. Sexual offenses, rapes, adulteries, incests and seductions are more common than ever before. How monstrous that the world should have been overthrown by such dense clouds for the last three or four centuries, so that it could not see clearly how to obey Christ's commandment to love our enemies. Everything is in shameful confusion; everywhere I see only cruelty, plots, frauds, violence, injustice, shamelessness while the poor groan under the oppression and the innocent are arrogantly and outrageously harassed. God must be asleep. (John Calvin)
Things never change, etc...
Things never change, etc...
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Coffin's obit for his son Alex, here via PBS
An Interview from the left-liberal Tikkun where he talks about it being our fault, the evil in the world, the war and the cruelty, and not God's (and a theological knife into dubyas belly)
What i love about Coffin, is that he wasnt nice. He was smart, literate and fucking pissed off. he would say things that were impolitc, he would say things meant to inflame, he didnt assume that a commitment to pacifism was a commitment to milquetoast politness. he listened, he read, he prayed, he admitted being wrong, but he spoke.
in the early 70s, organizing against the draft, he convinced enough divinity school students to give them his draft cards. he visted the fbi, gave them to the office, and went back, b/c as a xian he failed to believe in an unjust war. they visted him back, interrogating the kids, who stood silence against such bullying. the timing of these two visits were with parents weekend, at a talk that weekend, in front of parents, alumnae, big money, and real power, the dean of yale laid into him, called him out, destroyed Coffin, calling him a media whore, amongst other things. Coffin was in the audience, the speech was jumped on him, and not only did he keep quiet, in his 1977 memoir he concided the dean had a point.
When George the First lost his inital senate race in Texas, Coffin stopped Bush the Second in the hallways and said "i know your father, and the better man one" Bush the Second has repeated this anecdote dozens of times, making it as the start of his "populism", and suggesting that he hated the east because of his elitism--but he missed the point, Coffin;s populism was real, he went into the world, he travelled, for hte government then against the government, with dock workers, soilders, priests, bus drivers, domestics, libraians, the homeless, recent immigrants, DAR members, and his fellow Bonesmen--Zelig across gender, class, racial, social and sexual lines...the really elitest was Bush, and from the beginning Coffin called him on it.
An Interview from the left-liberal Tikkun where he talks about it being our fault, the evil in the world, the war and the cruelty, and not God's (and a theological knife into dubyas belly)
What i love about Coffin, is that he wasnt nice. He was smart, literate and fucking pissed off. he would say things that were impolitc, he would say things meant to inflame, he didnt assume that a commitment to pacifism was a commitment to milquetoast politness. he listened, he read, he prayed, he admitted being wrong, but he spoke.
in the early 70s, organizing against the draft, he convinced enough divinity school students to give them his draft cards. he visted the fbi, gave them to the office, and went back, b/c as a xian he failed to believe in an unjust war. they visted him back, interrogating the kids, who stood silence against such bullying. the timing of these two visits were with parents weekend, at a talk that weekend, in front of parents, alumnae, big money, and real power, the dean of yale laid into him, called him out, destroyed Coffin, calling him a media whore, amongst other things. Coffin was in the audience, the speech was jumped on him, and not only did he keep quiet, in his 1977 memoir he concided the dean had a point.
When George the First lost his inital senate race in Texas, Coffin stopped Bush the Second in the hallways and said "i know your father, and the better man one" Bush the Second has repeated this anecdote dozens of times, making it as the start of his "populism", and suggesting that he hated the east because of his elitism--but he missed the point, Coffin;s populism was real, he went into the world, he travelled, for hte government then against the government, with dock workers, soilders, priests, bus drivers, domestics, libraians, the homeless, recent immigrants, DAR members, and his fellow Bonesmen--Zelig across gender, class, racial, social and sexual lines...the really elitest was Bush, and from the beginning Coffin called him on it.
William Sloane Coffin, Third Generation Bonesman, CIA Operative, Yale Chaplin, Freedom Rider, Founder of Several Anti-Nuke Groups, Pacifist, Writer, Cheif Deacon of Riverside Church, Scholar, Theologian, Co-Founder of Soulforce, and Presbyrtian Historian, was a startingly effective, deeply moving writer. he was a man who taught me how to be a xian, when i didnt think it was a possiblity. he died today at 81
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
onwards with fiction
43- that frank miller batman reboot: i liked how everyone was pyschopaths, but i find millers realtionships with women problematic
42--pulp friction- a critical anthology of gay male pulps from 1940-1970. The writing was mostly awful, with some great, outsider weirdness...mostly valued for its anthropology, that said, the essays before each story and the introduction were amazing, and it was amusing that aside from making them a little more concise, gay porn really hasnt changed that much.
41-40 2 volumes of Y The Last Man (is this cheating, i dont think there has been a novel yet in this list, and well this is a serial, well fuck it its, funny, naughty, complicated, and talks about gender, violence, capbalitiyl, will and sexuaity in a way that is aware of its own absurdity. brilliant.
43- that frank miller batman reboot: i liked how everyone was pyschopaths, but i find millers realtionships with women problematic
42--pulp friction- a critical anthology of gay male pulps from 1940-1970. The writing was mostly awful, with some great, outsider weirdness...mostly valued for its anthropology, that said, the essays before each story and the introduction were amazing, and it was amusing that aside from making them a little more concise, gay porn really hasnt changed that much.
41-40 2 volumes of Y The Last Man (is this cheating, i dont think there has been a novel yet in this list, and well this is a serial, well fuck it its, funny, naughty, complicated, and talks about gender, violence, capbalitiyl, will and sexuaity in a way that is aware of its own absurdity. brilliant.
Traditional Artist Statement
10 Views from Car Window
Putting things in a sequence suggests a narrative, there is no way of avoiding it. Starting this sequence with an abstract view of inside of a car, and ending it with a pensive portrait, the narrative suggests something straight ahead—a literal journey in a car from point a to point b. The colours of the sky, the presence of prairie vista, and signifiers of life around Edmonton—of freight trains, industrial sites, hay bales, suggests that all of these photos could be taken in one day, from dawn to dusk. They appear quotidian in the most literal sense.
I sequenced these photos after looking at two books, taken twenty years apart: American Surfaces by Stephen Shore and Sticks and Stones by Lee Friedlander. Looking at the unity of imagery in both of these photos, and the implicit narrative created, one assumes that the psycho-geographic landscape of Tulsa, Tampa, and Tucson. What mattered were the isolation, exhaustion, hunger and boredom that sometimes happens while traveling through those cities, and an attempt towards some kind of banal transcendence, at the same time.
Alberta thinks of itself as special when it comes to landscapes, there is more space, bigger skies, more beauty, more permanence...but there is nothing like that, and stuck in the vehicles these photos were taken. I’ll tell you the truth, the ten photos taken here, were taken over the period of 8 months, in 4 separate vehicles, over 600 kilometers. The emotional and social narrative implied is not the same as the history of the photos taken. The ambiguity in that seeking, I think is important, because it infests not only how artists take pictures, but also how vacation photos are taken and how news photos are taken. Be careful of narratives.
I have included a more poetic, more personal, narrative about taking pictures out of vehicles, to tie into the more theoretical one here.
Installation Notes:
10 digital photographs printed commercially, framed individually in black laminate or steel. The pictures should be installed at roughly eye level, in a straight line, to imply an almost cinematic narrative. Each image is 8.5x11 inches, unframed.
10 Views from Car Window
Putting things in a sequence suggests a narrative, there is no way of avoiding it. Starting this sequence with an abstract view of inside of a car, and ending it with a pensive portrait, the narrative suggests something straight ahead—a literal journey in a car from point a to point b. The colours of the sky, the presence of prairie vista, and signifiers of life around Edmonton—of freight trains, industrial sites, hay bales, suggests that all of these photos could be taken in one day, from dawn to dusk. They appear quotidian in the most literal sense.
I sequenced these photos after looking at two books, taken twenty years apart: American Surfaces by Stephen Shore and Sticks and Stones by Lee Friedlander. Looking at the unity of imagery in both of these photos, and the implicit narrative created, one assumes that the psycho-geographic landscape of Tulsa, Tampa, and Tucson. What mattered were the isolation, exhaustion, hunger and boredom that sometimes happens while traveling through those cities, and an attempt towards some kind of banal transcendence, at the same time.
Alberta thinks of itself as special when it comes to landscapes, there is more space, bigger skies, more beauty, more permanence...but there is nothing like that, and stuck in the vehicles these photos were taken. I’ll tell you the truth, the ten photos taken here, were taken over the period of 8 months, in 4 separate vehicles, over 600 kilometers. The emotional and social narrative implied is not the same as the history of the photos taken. The ambiguity in that seeking, I think is important, because it infests not only how artists take pictures, but also how vacation photos are taken and how news photos are taken. Be careful of narratives.
I have included a more poetic, more personal, narrative about taking pictures out of vehicles, to tie into the more theoretical one here.
Installation Notes:
10 digital photographs printed commercially, framed individually in black laminate or steel. The pictures should be installed at roughly eye level, in a straight line, to imply an almost cinematic narrative. Each image is 8.5x11 inches, unframed.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
Judaism.com offers a bag with cute plushies of all ten plauges you can buy it here
This story is mildy interesting, its about a cardinal that died in some nefarious drug dealing What is fascinating is the poltical implications of the phrase "martyr for the war on drugs"--it might be a (neo)conserative renewal of boffo's recasting martyr as not only a religious context but social context (Romeo is a Martyr for the Poor not his Faith)
The Smithsonian has revamped their African Art site, with more sensitivity towards lingustic and cultural contexts, excellent work.
/>nytimes story of el slavador and abortion. It is totally illegal there, so the rich fly to Miami, and the poor shove pesticides or coat hangers up there uteruses, when they go to the hopsitals because of posioning, reneal failure, septic shock, distended uterses, infections of the vagina and labia, or unstoppable bleeding, foresenic vagina inspectors become involved. Men who run programs in the US who are against the autonomousness of womens bodies, view this as a positive thing.
1964 footage of the first cut peice--see the last few minutes, with the man removing Ono's bra, its chilling watch it here
This story is mildy interesting, its about a cardinal that died in some nefarious drug dealing What is fascinating is the poltical implications of the phrase "martyr for the war on drugs"--it might be a (neo)conserative renewal of boffo's recasting martyr as not only a religious context but social context (Romeo is a Martyr for the Poor not his Faith)
The Smithsonian has revamped their African Art site, with more sensitivity towards lingustic and cultural contexts, excellent work.
/>nytimes story of el slavador and abortion. It is totally illegal there, so the rich fly to Miami, and the poor shove pesticides or coat hangers up there uteruses, when they go to the hopsitals because of posioning, reneal failure, septic shock, distended uterses, infections of the vagina and labia, or unstoppable bleeding, foresenic vagina inspectors become involved. Men who run programs in the US who are against the autonomousness of womens bodies, view this as a positive thing.
1964 footage of the first cut peice--see the last few minutes, with the man removing Ono's bra, its chilling watch it here
frauds who use faith healing and other xian tactics to get as much money out of the poor and desperate are mostly pyschopaths with a meglomania complex, when it stops working in North America, because of a functioning media, or general cultural cynicism, or some other reason, they tend to move. Benny Hinn is in India, for example. Idland is a blog from an aid worker in Lethestho, a place that has HIV infection rates of more then 25 per cent, hansens disease, lack of clean water, malaria, dysentry, and other thing that kills people much quicker then it needs to be. Some of these things can be prevented or cured with good medicne, clean water, decent housing, and other basics, things that ID workers on the ground are good at doing cheap and effectivley. It's what Wesley meant when he said "god helps those who help themselves", what doesnt help is genuinely evil men like Ernest Angley, pretending to have the abilty to cure HIV, AIDS, and other "death diseases"
This disgusts me: full story here its a worthwhile blog otherwise.
This disgusts me: full story here its a worthwhile blog otherwise.
though this is only 35 minutes long, and similar to a video project i have been thinking about for months (and come on, frank, did the same thing from the mid 70s) naomi leibowitz's collection of 64 small videos, of everyday occurances, with the motion sometimes not happening at all, and sometimes being almost subliminal, is one of the wisest, most integeral, use of vision and every day power, i must have seen these over and over again, with the sound on and the sound on, and have been amazed--they have something new in the common vision of everyday thought, they avoid adding unssecary gravitas, and are the best extension of the new fashionalbe new topographers, i have seen in years...her other pojects, her hard conceptual edgem her casual sense of humour and her general fucking brilliance,are mostly here, but also in some of her photo projects, maybe i like her so much because she attaches to my working thru (her photos of every door bell on one street in prauge, is close to my bodies and buildings seires, but more about time, about limits, about performance. (i keep thinking spending more and more time with shore, frank, baltz, etc that there practice is performative, that its obsesison with recording, and making the intangible tangible is much closer to the performative instincts of late post minimalism/time based art then people have nessc. found--lebowitz reminds of us that...
here are the videos:
found here
look around at other places on the site.
here are the videos:
found here
look around at other places on the site.
Obit
reading about autopsies,
on Palm Sunday
someone comes in,
with five fresh caught fish
watching him,
over the kitchen counter
filleting with a paring knife,
red blood streaks pink flesh
colour of the tea in my hand,
of young Jacobs hair, of wine at dinner
and later at mass, colour of the neon signs
on the way home, and later, slicing cheddar, later that night
the colour of my blood.
fish on Fridays, feast on Sundays
and five fresh fish.
(notes: no wine at dinner, the book is joan didions year of magical thinking)
reading about autopsies,
on Palm Sunday
someone comes in,
with five fresh caught fish
watching him,
over the kitchen counter
filleting with a paring knife,
red blood streaks pink flesh
colour of the tea in my hand,
of young Jacobs hair, of wine at dinner
and later at mass, colour of the neon signs
on the way home, and later, slicing cheddar, later that night
the colour of my blood.
fish on Fridays, feast on Sundays
and five fresh fish.
(notes: no wine at dinner, the book is joan didions year of magical thinking)
Sunday, April 09, 2006
1. When my grandfather was still alive, the family visited the Shushawp. We couldn’t stop as often as would be ideal, I would take shots from his Buick Regal. They were similar to what I take photos of now: trains, rocks, interesting buildings, factories, and various water features.
2. Away at school, others used cameras. On parents’ day, samples and order sheets were distributed. The photos would be a combination of the spectacular (pine trees, lakes, mountains, rock-strewn summits) and the snapshot (eating, walking, campfires. Photos from canoes, buses, supply trucks, etc, were avoided. They weren’t butch enough.
3. When I came back from boarding school, my dad took me to Vancouver. I took photos with a drugstore camera. The sky train came from Buck Rogers, the rolls shot from it moving were interesting blurs. They could be as pretty as the well composed, photos from expensive cameras.
4. During high school, Packs of 6 disposable cameras would disappear into my backpack and I would derive. I would spend weekends taking photos from bus windows, as far south as Ellerslie and as far north as Castledowns. Shooting a roll of film, shooting a load of cum, relaxed me.
5. After high school, I spent time in London; my photos there were increasingly arty. One was a picture of Scotland, from the air. The purple ocean, green land worked as an abstracted pastoral. I realized later that Wolfgang Tillman’s airplane photos were better because they showed more of the airplane.
6. I didn’t take pictures for ages after London. Then I met Raymond. He invited me to come shoot trains. Their power was dangerous and the safety of encasement was absent. It reminded me of JG Ballard’s Crash which I re-read it a few weeks after my encounter with Raymond.
7. About this time, I attended a Canadian University Press conference; driving to the coast, I shot landscapes on piss breaks and from the car’s window. Another passenger was the paper’s photog, who mocked my not having an SLR. Through him I learnt why equipment meant both dick and camera.
8. During my second year of university, Raymond and I were roommates. We would trade shot for shot, then roll for roll, as our styles blended. We would drive around Edmonton, again way out west, up to Wainwright. Our shooting became a new way to think of bodies, vehicles and machines.
9. I flunked out of University and went south to Gethsamini Abbey. I left early, and riding in a mini van with a monk, I didn’t take photos of the interstate. Missing photos that promised food, booze, soul saving and Girls! Girls! Girls! matched my silence about God’s presence there.
10. A few weeks ago, a friend and I went from my house in the suburbs to Millwood’s. I took photos from his moving Honda. There is something important about traveling down highway 21, snapping photos quickly, and not caring about quality. I finally had enough confidence to keep going.
2. Away at school, others used cameras. On parents’ day, samples and order sheets were distributed. The photos would be a combination of the spectacular (pine trees, lakes, mountains, rock-strewn summits) and the snapshot (eating, walking, campfires. Photos from canoes, buses, supply trucks, etc, were avoided. They weren’t butch enough.
3. When I came back from boarding school, my dad took me to Vancouver. I took photos with a drugstore camera. The sky train came from Buck Rogers, the rolls shot from it moving were interesting blurs. They could be as pretty as the well composed, photos from expensive cameras.
4. During high school, Packs of 6 disposable cameras would disappear into my backpack and I would derive. I would spend weekends taking photos from bus windows, as far south as Ellerslie and as far north as Castledowns. Shooting a roll of film, shooting a load of cum, relaxed me.
5. After high school, I spent time in London; my photos there were increasingly arty. One was a picture of Scotland, from the air. The purple ocean, green land worked as an abstracted pastoral. I realized later that Wolfgang Tillman’s airplane photos were better because they showed more of the airplane.
6. I didn’t take pictures for ages after London. Then I met Raymond. He invited me to come shoot trains. Their power was dangerous and the safety of encasement was absent. It reminded me of JG Ballard’s Crash which I re-read it a few weeks after my encounter with Raymond.
7. About this time, I attended a Canadian University Press conference; driving to the coast, I shot landscapes on piss breaks and from the car’s window. Another passenger was the paper’s photog, who mocked my not having an SLR. Through him I learnt why equipment meant both dick and camera.
8. During my second year of university, Raymond and I were roommates. We would trade shot for shot, then roll for roll, as our styles blended. We would drive around Edmonton, again way out west, up to Wainwright. Our shooting became a new way to think of bodies, vehicles and machines.
9. I flunked out of University and went south to Gethsamini Abbey. I left early, and riding in a mini van with a monk, I didn’t take photos of the interstate. Missing photos that promised food, booze, soul saving and Girls! Girls! Girls! matched my silence about God’s presence there.
10. A few weeks ago, a friend and I went from my house in the suburbs to Millwood’s. I took photos from his moving Honda. There is something important about traveling down highway 21, snapping photos quickly, and not caring about quality. I finally had enough confidence to keep going.
the livid shaft of pain penetrated until I was so impaled I could scarcely whimper, I suffered even greater punshment when this sex maniac pinched my buttocks, forcing me to wiggle, which only added to his perverted pleasue and my agonized torment. His body was like a living mallet as he heaved and undaluted. It took a while before he reached the high peak. Considering his age, that shouln't be much of a suprise...
memoirs of jeff x, anon gay pulp. qouted in bronski's pulp friction
memoirs of jeff x, anon gay pulp. qouted in bronski's pulp friction
Saturday, April 08, 2006
The GOP media machine was all over this story, commending the Capitol Police and babbling about how McKinney shows that the Dems aren't serious about national security, helping to give the teapot-tempest "legs" in the mainstream media, because a cascade of articles about an obese, uppity black-woman Democrat with bad hair and a big mouth successfully helped deflect or displace front-page coverage of DeLay's ignoble exit from Congress, a storm of violence in Iraq, Feingold's censure motion, Gonzales' revelation that NSA wiretapping of Americans communicating with one another in the US is legalTM, and this week's revelations about the Leaker-in-Chief. The tactic could only work so well, because the other issues are, shall we say, of more gravity, but for several days this week when I checked Google News for stories on Iraq and Libby, McKinney's big black face was staring at me from the top of the page. Mission accomplished -- with help from McKinney.
posted by digaman at 8:59 AM PST on April 8
The story in question was the Cynthia McKinney/Capital Police fiasco, posted on mefi
posted by digaman at 8:59 AM PST on April 8
The story in question was the Cynthia McKinney/Capital Police fiasco, posted on mefi
this photograph, one print, no cuts, all analog, no digital, is from Sinasbaugh's midwest seires, its 19 feet long!
I have no fucking idea how he does it--dozens more examples here from the U of Indiana
their geometrical rigour, isolation and techincal skill, are amazing
I have no fucking idea how he does it--dozens more examples here from the U of Indiana
their geometrical rigour, isolation and techincal skill, are amazing
Friday, April 07, 2006
Three Polaroids by Emma Summerton:
the rest here
i dont know how i feel, some of her work, like the ones above, astonish, but she mostly does erotic imagery, women, shoes, underwear, breasts, which i find overdone, and boring, oddly a little too formal, not seamy enough, but sometimes there is an image of great beauty, tenderness, and formal innovation, she can take a shot.
the rest here
i dont know how i feel, some of her work, like the ones above, astonish, but she mostly does erotic imagery, women, shoes, underwear, breasts, which i find overdone, and boring, oddly a little too formal, not seamy enough, but sometimes there is an image of great beauty, tenderness, and formal innovation, she can take a shot.
links time:
here is a review of the shore book american surfaces, which i am looking at this week. i love shore, of course, and i love his america, and i think its impt that he called it surfaces (the writer of the intro essay says that he goes deeper then that, but shore isnt deep, his texts run on the surfaces like a car runs across the surface of a highway...) The other thing i realised about the 70s in america thru shore, is that nothing he ate from 1972-1975 looked edible, holiday inn omlettes, steak and oninon wrings, half wedges of iceberg with blue cheese, it looked awful.
Guy brings his 6 year old to the Kickapoo Nature REseve and while hiking, saw "more than a dozen dead animals lay within 100 feet of one another. None had a visible injury. Half were bleeding from the nose or mouth". Link <"a href="http://www.suntimes.com/output/news/cst-nws-dedanimals03.html"/>here
Church Marketing Sucks, from a xian persepective
speaking of church marketing a new doc on the Peoples Temple problemtizes the implications of the whole mess, from his time in Indiana, to his political power in SF, to the Guyana
Classic Body Builders Hundreds of Them!
here is a review of the shore book american surfaces, which i am looking at this week. i love shore, of course, and i love his america, and i think its impt that he called it surfaces (the writer of the intro essay says that he goes deeper then that, but shore isnt deep, his texts run on the surfaces like a car runs across the surface of a highway...) The other thing i realised about the 70s in america thru shore, is that nothing he ate from 1972-1975 looked edible, holiday inn omlettes, steak and oninon wrings, half wedges of iceberg with blue cheese, it looked awful.
Guy brings his 6 year old to the Kickapoo Nature REseve and while hiking, saw "more than a dozen dead animals lay within 100 feet of one another. None had a visible injury. Half were bleeding from the nose or mouth". Link <"a href="http://www.suntimes.com/output/news/cst-nws-dedanimals03.html"/>here
Church Marketing Sucks, from a xian persepective
speaking of church marketing a new doc on the Peoples Temple problemtizes the implications of the whole mess, from his time in Indiana, to his political power in SF, to the Guyana
Classic Body Builders Hundreds of Them!
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)