From Eduardo Salibrato, Totalitarian Lust from Salo to Abu Gharib South Central Review 24.1 (2007) 174-182 2007
Torture is a microcosm. Hence, its considerable theological, philosophical, and political value. The physical and chemical techniques of destruction of the person—from the grappling irons and mutilations put into practice by the Holy Christian Brotherhood, to the electrical charges, drugs, violent contusions, prolonged asphyxia, aggressive sensorial stimulation, and sexual violation practiced in centers of military intelligence throughout the Cold War—in short, what we see before us today, is not, as the institutional watchdogs of human rights are inclined to proclaim, the vision of an inexpressible and incomprehensible horror. It is the exact opposite: the calculated expression, at once rational and necessary, that defines modernity, the global capitalist system, or Western civilization as such. This is the expression that reveals the profound logos of modernity. It is, to be precise, the same expression that once led the Marquis de Sade to explore, in his memories of imprisonment, the nexus between torture and civilizing rationality.(174)
Monday, July 20, 2009
From ITALIAN STUDIES, VOLUME 62, NUMBER 1, SPRING 2007
LIBERATION HURTS: VIOLENCE, MASOCHISM AND
ANTI-CAPITALISM ACCORDING TO PASOLINI
Fabio Vighi
Salò makes visible how when the wall of prohibition
sustaining the economy of desire falls, we enter the shadowy domain of drive,
whose circulation implies the nightmare of an endless encounter with jouissance,
‘since jouissance is, at its most elementary, ‘pleasure in pain’, that is, a perverted pleasure
provided by the very painful and inherently masochistic experience of repeatedly
missing one’s goal’.43 And what the libertines discover at the end of their journey into
the dark realm of drive is that the impossibility of (attaining) the object coincides with
the impossible/disavowed/excessive kernel of the self. Pasolini tells us that the external
ever-elusive ‘Thing’ is also ‘our Thing’, the most intimate place inside us. Such a
realisation cannot but have a devastating effect on the subject: as the final part of the
film suggests, it implies the collapse of the libertines’ psychic balance.
LIBERATION HURTS: VIOLENCE, MASOCHISM AND
ANTI-CAPITALISM ACCORDING TO PASOLINI
Fabio Vighi
Salò makes visible how when the wall of prohibition
sustaining the economy of desire falls, we enter the shadowy domain of drive,
whose circulation implies the nightmare of an endless encounter with jouissance,
‘since jouissance is, at its most elementary, ‘pleasure in pain’, that is, a perverted pleasure
provided by the very painful and inherently masochistic experience of repeatedly
missing one’s goal’.43 And what the libertines discover at the end of their journey into
the dark realm of drive is that the impossibility of (attaining) the object coincides with
the impossible/disavowed/excessive kernel of the self. Pasolini tells us that the external
ever-elusive ‘Thing’ is also ‘our Thing’, the most intimate place inside us. Such a
realisation cannot but have a devastating effect on the subject: as the final part of the
film suggests, it implies the collapse of the libertines’ psychic balance.
User Rating:
8.0 /10
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I met the Bishop on the road
And much said he and I.
'Those breasts are flat and fallen now,
Those veins must soon be dry;
Live in a heavenly mansion,
Not in some foul sty.'
'Fair and foul are near of kin,
And fair needs foul,' I cried.
'My friends are gone, but that's a truth
Nor grave nor bed denied,
Learned in bodily lowliness
And in the heart's pride.
'A woman can be proud and stiff
When on love intent;
But Love has pitched his mansion in
The place of excrement;
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.'
8.0 /10
(3 votes)
0 E-mail this poem to e friend
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0 Print friendly version
I met the Bishop on the road
And much said he and I.
'Those breasts are flat and fallen now,
Those veins must soon be dry;
Live in a heavenly mansion,
Not in some foul sty.'
'Fair and foul are near of kin,
And fair needs foul,' I cried.
'My friends are gone, but that's a truth
Nor grave nor bed denied,
Learned in bodily lowliness
And in the heart's pride.
'A woman can be proud and stiff
When on love intent;
But Love has pitched his mansion in
The place of excrement;
For nothing can be sole or whole
That has not been rent.'
texts:
a) yeats, crazy jane talks to the bishop
b) batialle, divine filth
c) manzoni, canned shit
d) barthes, sade/fourier/loyala
e) pasolini, salo
f) rberg, bed
g) mapplethorpe, fisting
h) serrano, piss christ
i) koons, made in heaven
j) mccarthy, inflatables
6 points:
a) mostly catholic, all from xian contexts
b) instability of the once stable body, related to the idea of death of the author
c) abasement or abjectness can be as theological, and as strong a theological tradition (inc/esp) its inclusion of the sublime, as ideas of ascension or grace
d) heresey or blasphemey as a response to the horrors of the 20th century
e) obscenity as a liberatory/political possibilty (as punishment, as getting what one deserves, as an extension of opposition in all things)
f) it mirrors/provides a shadow discourse of the allowed/proper abjeciton of the divine body. (cf steinberg)
a) yeats, crazy jane talks to the bishop
b) batialle, divine filth
c) manzoni, canned shit
d) barthes, sade/fourier/loyala
e) pasolini, salo
f) rberg, bed
g) mapplethorpe, fisting
h) serrano, piss christ
i) koons, made in heaven
j) mccarthy, inflatables
6 points:
a) mostly catholic, all from xian contexts
b) instability of the once stable body, related to the idea of death of the author
c) abasement or abjectness can be as theological, and as strong a theological tradition (inc/esp) its inclusion of the sublime, as ideas of ascension or grace
d) heresey or blasphemey as a response to the horrors of the 20th century
e) obscenity as a liberatory/political possibilty (as punishment, as getting what one deserves, as an extension of opposition in all things)
f) it mirrors/provides a shadow discourse of the allowed/proper abjeciton of the divine body. (cf steinberg)
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
John Elkin's Pictures and Tears does many things, most of them very well. It talks about the history of romanticism, the sentimental edges of the 18th and early 19th century, the emotional desert of modernism, and how the sublime becomes so overwhelming that to express it one enters half thoughts, or not quite developed emotions into the permanent record. It elucidates how arts professionals intellectual rigour functions in the same place as emotional reserve, and how that occasionally fails work. He also, by his own personal anecdotes, that of students, and of friends, and other professionals, gives an important corpus of first-person information about who cried at paintings, and how if one so desires, a viewer could do so himself. It is a radical book, because of it's flattening of intellectual practice with significant personal details. Reading the work, reading Elkin is to be baptised into a new historical practice, to be born again against the taboos of severe reticence.
Crying seems to be the most obvious of these taboos, the severity of transgressing it found in the art historian Robert Rosenblum, who wrote “I must end up confessing that...my own lachrymal ducts have never responded to a work of art...On the other hand, if you're interested in physiology I have truly gasped (jaw dropped, breath caught, etc) from the sensation of what I guess we might still call Beauty or some kind of magic in art” (Elkins, 100).
Rosenblum, with his claiming of Rothko as a Northern Romantic, like Fredich, and his technician's skill in reclaiming the importance of otherwise problematic early 20th century sentiment, share important aesthetic details with this text's analysis of the Rothko chapel in Houston, with the clear comments on Friedrich,have the same patterns of iconoclasm, of the post-modern desire for genre shattering , for allowing work that has been excised from the Canon, or ideas that are unfashionable back in. But even he is not willing, or perhaps unable to talk about what it means to cry in front of a painting.
In fact Elkins, thinks that post-modernism is part of the problem, in a long passage about what exactly it means not to be moved from modern or post-modern sources, “People don't cry over fiction that is cleary modernist or post-modernist---Joyce, Kafka, Borges, Calvino, Pessao; nor do they cry at modern and Post-modern films—Gance, Robbe-Gillet, Bresson, Brunel, Deren. People weep at romantic novels, esepcially when they're not exactly the best literature. Harlequin romances are romantic, both in the sense that they are stores about love, and in the sense that they belong in a genealogy that goes back to Romanticism.” (Elkins, 143)
Elkins is making two arguments here, one that is not very radical at all, and one that destabilizes the modern/post modern project. The first has been carefully documented, that there is power (perhaps more power) in a cheap tune. The second is that there work that is not “the best literature” has as much value or perhaps more then work that is considered artistic, highbrow etc. But not value in the sense of academic interest, or sociological use-function, or any other uses that people write about Hollywood movies or harlequin romances about. For Elkin's the Harlequins are as valuable because people feel about them, because people's emotions are valuable. He becomes concerned that artists and writers are incapable of making work or responding to work that not only makes us cry, but makes us aroused, or angry, or fall in love, or any of those strong and intense emotions that are apparently blanched out at the end of the 20th century.
The argument about this, is made when he talks about Warhol: “The same kinds of events took place in the Renaissance, and large churches were sometimes built around small provincial chapels that contained miraculous images. From my point of view, the only essential difference is that the renaissance devotional images could be made by the best artists. Now the best artists only make ironic versions of religious images, that end up on television. I doubt anyone could pray or cry looking at one of Warhol's “camouflaged” versions of Leonardo's Last Supper, even though Warhol intended his works to be very much in the Catholic tradition...” (176)
The Catholic tradition is so wide and vast a territory, that to assume that it cannot contain irony, or that Warhol is less then sincere, or that sincerity and irony cannot live together in a mutually beneficial relationship, is problematic. The Last Supper paintings are difficult, they are from a reproduction of a reproduction, and they are of a work that has moved from a dessicated original to a plethora of mechanically reproduced objects of devotion. Warhol's whole life was about constructing an iconography out of the iconoclasm of modernity. The paintings in the 1980s, especially the last supper paintings, but others, including the eerily transubstantiative Good Body work of 1986 speak against the dichotomy of irony and authenticity, of realism and reproduction, of being and feeling that Elkins claims that the 20th century have ignored.
They are about the body of God, and feeling the body of God, about beauty, desire, the haunting of the holy ghost through this broken century, and they are achingly holy. Warhol for me, the artist who had this skill of synthesizing emotional sublimity with a icy wickedness. The body painting, of course, with it's source material in body building magazines, placed in the context of an old religious feeling, allowed for the possibility that the raw and the cooked can work in conjunction, a project that Elkin's flattening of history, romanticism, and genre signifiers in order to just feel would be very much in favour of.
Personal confession time, the book encourages it, Warhol encourages it, and Elkins flattening makes it the logical conclusion. I have prayed with Warhol, not with the Last Supper, but with the mourning Jackie, with the Madonna/Whore of the gold Marilyn, with some of the screen tests. I have prayed with other artists, almost 90 minutes enraptured by Agnes Martin's Morning from 1965. I have other reactions, anger, or exhaustion, or eroticism. I have wanted to destroy work, to use it as a tool for personal revelry, it has made me overwhelmed with joy, and it is has made me sad, but never moved me to tears.
In fact, most of the work that I have felt intensely about, has not been ancient work, there are very few exceptions of work that has caused me profound emotional changes that have occurred before 1900. Perhaps I am strange, but work that functions as a sublime substitute for cathedrals, to use the example of Newman, should lead itself to strong emotions, to strong feelings. Desire for transgression and for transcendce are often the same kind of thing, work functionally on the same places, emotion becomes an unruly and difficult thing. Perhaps because I have always been a bit unhinged, a bit strange, a bit unable to find out exactly where my emotions lie, the emotional excesses that come out then do not come out of Diderot or the romantics, but as a post-modern seeking of narratives that contain some meaning while having internalized the seeds of their own dissent.
Crying seems to be the most obvious of these taboos, the severity of transgressing it found in the art historian Robert Rosenblum, who wrote “I must end up confessing that...my own lachrymal ducts have never responded to a work of art...On the other hand, if you're interested in physiology I have truly gasped (jaw dropped, breath caught, etc) from the sensation of what I guess we might still call Beauty or some kind of magic in art” (Elkins, 100).
Rosenblum, with his claiming of Rothko as a Northern Romantic, like Fredich, and his technician's skill in reclaiming the importance of otherwise problematic early 20th century sentiment, share important aesthetic details with this text's analysis of the Rothko chapel in Houston, with the clear comments on Friedrich,have the same patterns of iconoclasm, of the post-modern desire for genre shattering , for allowing work that has been excised from the Canon, or ideas that are unfashionable back in. But even he is not willing, or perhaps unable to talk about what it means to cry in front of a painting.
In fact Elkins, thinks that post-modernism is part of the problem, in a long passage about what exactly it means not to be moved from modern or post-modern sources, “People don't cry over fiction that is cleary modernist or post-modernist---Joyce, Kafka, Borges, Calvino, Pessao; nor do they cry at modern and Post-modern films—Gance, Robbe-Gillet, Bresson, Brunel, Deren. People weep at romantic novels, esepcially when they're not exactly the best literature. Harlequin romances are romantic, both in the sense that they are stores about love, and in the sense that they belong in a genealogy that goes back to Romanticism.” (Elkins, 143)
Elkins is making two arguments here, one that is not very radical at all, and one that destabilizes the modern/post modern project. The first has been carefully documented, that there is power (perhaps more power) in a cheap tune. The second is that there work that is not “the best literature” has as much value or perhaps more then work that is considered artistic, highbrow etc. But not value in the sense of academic interest, or sociological use-function, or any other uses that people write about Hollywood movies or harlequin romances about. For Elkin's the Harlequins are as valuable because people feel about them, because people's emotions are valuable. He becomes concerned that artists and writers are incapable of making work or responding to work that not only makes us cry, but makes us aroused, or angry, or fall in love, or any of those strong and intense emotions that are apparently blanched out at the end of the 20th century.
The argument about this, is made when he talks about Warhol: “The same kinds of events took place in the Renaissance, and large churches were sometimes built around small provincial chapels that contained miraculous images. From my point of view, the only essential difference is that the renaissance devotional images could be made by the best artists. Now the best artists only make ironic versions of religious images, that end up on television. I doubt anyone could pray or cry looking at one of Warhol's “camouflaged” versions of Leonardo's Last Supper, even though Warhol intended his works to be very much in the Catholic tradition...” (176)
The Catholic tradition is so wide and vast a territory, that to assume that it cannot contain irony, or that Warhol is less then sincere, or that sincerity and irony cannot live together in a mutually beneficial relationship, is problematic. The Last Supper paintings are difficult, they are from a reproduction of a reproduction, and they are of a work that has moved from a dessicated original to a plethora of mechanically reproduced objects of devotion. Warhol's whole life was about constructing an iconography out of the iconoclasm of modernity. The paintings in the 1980s, especially the last supper paintings, but others, including the eerily transubstantiative Good Body work of 1986 speak against the dichotomy of irony and authenticity, of realism and reproduction, of being and feeling that Elkins claims that the 20th century have ignored.
They are about the body of God, and feeling the body of God, about beauty, desire, the haunting of the holy ghost through this broken century, and they are achingly holy. Warhol for me, the artist who had this skill of synthesizing emotional sublimity with a icy wickedness. The body painting, of course, with it's source material in body building magazines, placed in the context of an old religious feeling, allowed for the possibility that the raw and the cooked can work in conjunction, a project that Elkin's flattening of history, romanticism, and genre signifiers in order to just feel would be very much in favour of.
Personal confession time, the book encourages it, Warhol encourages it, and Elkins flattening makes it the logical conclusion. I have prayed with Warhol, not with the Last Supper, but with the mourning Jackie, with the Madonna/Whore of the gold Marilyn, with some of the screen tests. I have prayed with other artists, almost 90 minutes enraptured by Agnes Martin's Morning from 1965. I have other reactions, anger, or exhaustion, or eroticism. I have wanted to destroy work, to use it as a tool for personal revelry, it has made me overwhelmed with joy, and it is has made me sad, but never moved me to tears.
In fact, most of the work that I have felt intensely about, has not been ancient work, there are very few exceptions of work that has caused me profound emotional changes that have occurred before 1900. Perhaps I am strange, but work that functions as a sublime substitute for cathedrals, to use the example of Newman, should lead itself to strong emotions, to strong feelings. Desire for transgression and for transcendce are often the same kind of thing, work functionally on the same places, emotion becomes an unruly and difficult thing. Perhaps because I have always been a bit unhinged, a bit strange, a bit unable to find out exactly where my emotions lie, the emotional excesses that come out then do not come out of Diderot or the romantics, but as a post-modern seeking of narratives that contain some meaning while having internalized the seeds of their own dissent.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Saatchi put Snow up in a Piccadilly hotel along with his friend and fellow New York artist Dan Colen. The pair decided to make a "hamster nest" within their hotel room – shredding phone books, blankets and curtains for "bedding" in which to curl up and take a cocktail of drugs. The experiment ended with them evacuating the hotel room in the middle of the night to escape arrest. Typical of Snow's infusion of his excess into his art, he then set up the NEST installation with Colen at Deitch Projects in New York, where two thousand phone books were destroyed over five nights.from the independent
i think that the first hamster nest, the private one, wiht it's desperation, and its sadness, and its obsessive seeking of comfort, of creation and destruction, is not new, and it deft. is druggy in a really obvious way, but there is something moving in it's desperation--the conversion of a private and intimate act into spectacle, from two phonebooks to two thousand, from a hotel room to a gallery, is a nice metyonomy for the LES from the mid 80s to the present's tedency to make public that which perhaps should be kept private, and that this dichtomoy b/w different kinds of intimacy was funded by the same guy who payed for Sarah Lucas or Tracey Emin, suggests an intertextuality that Saachi must have been aware of.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
At 6:03 PM, walk to stop #0804 on ISLINGTON SUBWAY BUS TERMINAL, CITY OF TORONTO (1 min.).
Take BLOOR ST and walk to stop #0804 on ISLINGTON SUBWAY BUS TERMINAL, CITY OF TORONTO, it is on the left (+/- 1 min.).
At 6:04 PM, take Bus route 201 direction West. At 6:29 PM, arrive at stop #1189 on DUNDAS ST at HURONTARIO ST, CITY OF MISSISSAUGA (25 min.).
At 6:04 PM, take Bus route 201 direction West and get off at stop #1189 on DUNDAS ST at HURONTARIO ST, street DUNDAS (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA) following street HURONTARIO (+/- 25 min.). Last intersections: JAGUAR VALLEY DR (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA), SHEPARD AVE (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA), HURONTARIO ST (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA).
View stop schedule for 0804 - ISLINGTON SUBWAY BUS TERMINAL View stop schedule for 1189 - DUNDAS ST at HURONTARIO ST View schedule for route 201 - Dundas Express (West)
Walk to stop #0717 on HURONTARIO ST at DUNDAS ST, CITY OF MISSISSAUGA for transfer.
Take DUNDAS ST and walk to HURONTARIO ST, it is the next street. Turn right and walk to stop #0717 on HURONTARIO ST at DUNDAS ST, CITY OF MISSISSAUGA, it is on the right (+/- 2 min.).
Wait 5 minute(s).
At 6:36 PM, take Bus route 202 direction South. At 6:48 PM, arrive at stop #5202 on PORT CREDIT GO STATION, CITY OF MISSISSAUGA (12 min.).
At 6:36 PM, take Bus route 202 direction South and get off at stop #5202 on PORT CREDIT GO STATION, street QUEEN (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA) following street HELENE (+/- 12 min.). Last intersections: PARK ST (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA), QUEEN ST (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA), HELENE ST (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA).
View stop schedule for 0717 - HURONTARIO ST at DUNDAS ST View stop schedule for 5202 - PORT CREDIT GO STATION View schedule for route 202 - Hurontario Express (South)
Walk to Port Credit GO. Arrive at 6:50 PM (2 min.).
Take BLOOR ST and walk to stop #0804 on ISLINGTON SUBWAY BUS TERMINAL, CITY OF TORONTO, it is on the left (+/- 1 min.).
At 6:04 PM, take Bus route 201 direction West. At 6:29 PM, arrive at stop #1189 on DUNDAS ST at HURONTARIO ST, CITY OF MISSISSAUGA (25 min.).
At 6:04 PM, take Bus route 201 direction West and get off at stop #1189 on DUNDAS ST at HURONTARIO ST, street DUNDAS (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA) following street HURONTARIO (+/- 25 min.). Last intersections: JAGUAR VALLEY DR (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA), SHEPARD AVE (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA), HURONTARIO ST (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA).
View stop schedule for 0804 - ISLINGTON SUBWAY BUS TERMINAL View stop schedule for 1189 - DUNDAS ST at HURONTARIO ST View schedule for route 201 - Dundas Express (West)
Walk to stop #0717 on HURONTARIO ST at DUNDAS ST, CITY OF MISSISSAUGA for transfer.
Take DUNDAS ST and walk to HURONTARIO ST, it is the next street. Turn right and walk to stop #0717 on HURONTARIO ST at DUNDAS ST, CITY OF MISSISSAUGA, it is on the right (+/- 2 min.).
Wait 5 minute(s).
At 6:36 PM, take Bus route 202 direction South. At 6:48 PM, arrive at stop #5202 on PORT CREDIT GO STATION, CITY OF MISSISSAUGA (12 min.).
At 6:36 PM, take Bus route 202 direction South and get off at stop #5202 on PORT CREDIT GO STATION, street QUEEN (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA) following street HELENE (+/- 12 min.). Last intersections: PARK ST (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA), QUEEN ST (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA), HELENE ST (CITY OF MISSISSAUGA).
View stop schedule for 0717 - HURONTARIO ST at DUNDAS ST View stop schedule for 5202 - PORT CREDIT GO STATION View schedule for route 202 - Hurontario Express (South)
Walk to Port Credit GO. Arrive at 6:50 PM (2 min.).
Thursday, July 09, 2009
sad lute is sad.
an article about the art historical preservation of plastic.
Antique plastic dolls at the National Museum of Denmark have begun to peel and flake; classic furniture at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London might as well have been left out in the sun for years; the first-ever plastic toothbrush, at the Smithsonian, is collapsing into a pile of crumbs; etc. A whole generation of irreplaceable items that are as representative of our culture as pottery or flintheads were of ancient ones are dying—and many people charged with their care have no idea how to stop further damage.I am esp. interested in the problems of monumental work made from polymers in the mid 60s, esp. from Los Angeles, but also Tim Scott, et al, but it seems like everything made of plastic in the 20th century is prone to rot.
teak tea press
i like these toyko subway ettiqutte posters, because they a) use positive reenforcement. b) encourage a community to live together.
the mummy as female erotica.
 |
| From Untitled Album |
Samuel Asso, Salmon Loops, Screen Print, 2006
(loops as in info, as in feedback, as in sound returning, loops as in culture repeating, loops as in riff, loops as in food, loops as in remix/reclaim culture)
paintings of drug mules by andrew prayzner, there is something eerie about making monumental the anonymous (literally, w. the pixelazation of face) but i wonder if they are not v. conceptually strong?
Jay Branan Housewife. Indie folk for the painfully alone.
8 fotos of the erotic city, including a couple you have seen, a couple you haven't, and one blurry, sexy, and decadent dragged out goldin.
a urgayan bishop cannot fuck male whores w/o them blackmailing him into resignation.
house as a bridge over a winter creek and billabong an hour near adeliade. have to see the pictures.
 |
| From Untitled Album |
Kristen Dunst, Marie Antoiennette Still
the most interesting thing about these fotos of lstein's studio ca 1990, is the carefully cut out, aged comics as reference, though the work had moved past such qoutations, his reliance on printed material becomes a visual crutch, and suggests a kind of dead practice. (did he use the comic panels for the brushstroke paintings, for the benday dots on teasets, the mirrors?) (though reflections on the prom done that year, that may be the painting worked on in these photos did use two romance comics as part of a larger cubist/abstracted pop composition)
5 days too late, but still muppets do indepence day
juaya wantabe's spring 2010 modified wasp style is so fucking pretty, with a coat that works somewhere b/w blazer and windbreaker, in an ineffable blue shade that is lovely.
filson does some stuff that is horribly functional, and on sale.
 |
| From Untitled Album |
Wolford Tights.
love the updated morris aesthetic of some of these posters by petra borner.
cameron apologizes for Section 28, still has not done any thing concrete about queer culture now.
Two country videos from the 70s.
hooked circitury rugs
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| From Untitled Album |
Mary Rudolff, Bullrider, National Finals Rodeo, 2008
stewart an online site to purchase church signs.
koons on jackson
Sixto Rodquriez, the lost mexican motown genius.
joel meyerwitz talks about his best shot from the mid 70s. a tight, fascinating essay about his aesthetic.
the interesting thing about this story is again, not the inclusion of queerness into a tradtional protestent aesthetic, but how queerness allows tradtions to be suspended, by both lgbtqetc voices, and from the orginzation who is doing the censoring, in this case, the casting out of the gay positive texan church from the SBC indicates that the SBC is becoming more creedal, more willing to tell it's members what to do, and less about the traditional baptist instinct towards both pragmatisim and radical individualism.
new Edmund White on being fucked, where he is at his most lyrical best:
"Why are some men so kinky? you might well ask. Though kink is sometimes called animalistic, it's precisely what animals don't do. Monkeys and lions never think of new positions and complicated scenarios. Because we have language, we inhabit a symbolic world and are haunted by memory; the simplest gesture (locking someone in a cage and force-feeding him) takes on a powerful resonance of childhood eating disorders or a longing for (and fear of) complete possession of the elusive beloved. We can turn the simplest fuck into a circus of psychoanalytic possibilities.(and on the exact opposite tack here are sanford's emails to his argenitine mistress, must be read to belived.
agnes pelton's mystical abstractions, are 20 years before most other people's, and have a rich, deeply satisfying, pleasure. Reminds me of Hilma Af Klint but American.
stoned wallabies make crop circles.
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| From Untitled Album |
Brian Moore, Kermore Lane, Digital Photo, 200?
Fred Astaire, Putting on the Ritz.
interview with the leader of an anglican schismatic group, short and with out much detail.
clever and well designed baseball infographics.
byu lifts youtube ban.
4 lost fotos of stonewall.
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| From Untitled Album |
Oh josh turner, the things i would do to you.
brian nash gill makes abstract wooden sculptures, i have no sense of scale etc here, but they have a rough hewn grace that makes me want to see them irl.
muji portable shaver makes me want them to do other consumer electronics.
the spaghetti western string company are a qaurtet that combine jazz, old school country, and classical vocal techniques into something quite new.
liza in paris
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| From Untitled Album |
Lynda Benglis, Corner Peice, from the End of Painting Show now at SAM. maybe in august?
this deeply problematic king tut show is going to be at the ago.
homoerotic cowboy print ftw
this nytime obit about the train tagger Iz the Wiz says alot about the mainstreaming of street art.
80s candids from the ny drag place sally's hideaway.
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| From Untitled Album |
Jodie Foster, early 70s.
mule skinners now have to go thru tsa checks, because they might be filled with the terror.
some good news about an hiv vaccine.
frank's top singles for the first half of 09.
love the interface of worceters musuems new site.
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| From Untitled Album |
Thursday, July 02, 2009
top country singles of the half year
a) dierks bentley sideways
b) adam lambert ring of fire
c) taylor swift, you belong to me
d) john mayer who says i can't
e) john rich tearing detroit down
f) reba mcentire strange
top albums of the half year
a) hang over ost
b) yeah yeah yeah its blitz
c) lily allen its not me its you
d) mastodon crack the skye
top singles of the half year
a) lily allen fuck you
b) yeah yeah yeahs heads will roll
c) jay z death of autotune
d) britney if you seek amy
e) mariah carey obsessed
f) ray feaver when i grow up
g) horses this is a song for the one i love
h) jarvis cocker, angela in paris
i) untouchable tell me why
a) dierks bentley sideways
b) adam lambert ring of fire
c) taylor swift, you belong to me
d) john mayer who says i can't
e) john rich tearing detroit down
f) reba mcentire strange
top albums of the half year
a) hang over ost
b) yeah yeah yeah its blitz
c) lily allen its not me its you
d) mastodon crack the skye
top singles of the half year
a) lily allen fuck you
b) yeah yeah yeahs heads will roll
c) jay z death of autotune
d) britney if you seek amy
e) mariah carey obsessed
f) ray feaver when i grow up
g) horses this is a song for the one i love
h) jarvis cocker, angela in paris
i) untouchable tell me why
Do you think I can’t forgive you? I forgive
Both of us for being born of the flesh,
Which means I forgive all tossing and turning,
All foundering, all not finding,
All irreconcilability,
All the friction of this great orphanage
Where no one knows his origin and no one
Comes to claim him. I forgive even
The unrevealing revelation of love
That lifts a lid purely
To close it, and leaves us knowing that greater things
Are close, but not to be disclosed
Though we die for them. I forgive
Everything, my most dear Perpetua,
Except that I wasn’t born something less ambitious,
Such as a Muscovy duck.
— Christopher Fry, Venus Observed
Both of us for being born of the flesh,
Which means I forgive all tossing and turning,
All foundering, all not finding,
All irreconcilability,
All the friction of this great orphanage
Where no one knows his origin and no one
Comes to claim him. I forgive even
The unrevealing revelation of love
That lifts a lid purely
To close it, and leaves us knowing that greater things
Are close, but not to be disclosed
Though we die for them. I forgive
Everything, my most dear Perpetua,
Except that I wasn’t born something less ambitious,
Such as a Muscovy duck.
— Christopher Fry, Venus Observed
Thursday, June 25, 2009
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