Monday, 18 November 2013
Sunday, 8 September 2013
Tuesday, 27 August 2013
Tuesday, 20 August 2013
Wednesday, 31 July 2013
Lotus
On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying, and I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded.
Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.
That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed to me that it was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion.
I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.
from the Gitanjali
by Rabindranath Tagore
Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.
That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed to me that it was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion.
I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.
from the Gitanjali
by Rabindranath Tagore
Tuesday, 30 July 2013
Wednesday, 26 June 2013
Tuesday, 4 June 2013
Sonakinatography
Yesterday, I found out who Merce Cunningham is.
Then I put on my Laurie Andersen outfit.
Today, I learned of Channa Horwitz's concept of sonakinatography.
Then I put on my Laurie Andersen outfit.
Today, I learned of Channa Horwitz's concept of sonakinatography.
Saturday, 1 June 2013
"Body Flush" by Virginie Sommet
Virginie Sommet
Fountain Art Fair
Art Basel week in Miami, December 2012
Emanating the contradictory evolution of art, the Fountain Art
Fair had a multitude of work covering the walls of its spacious warehouse. The
group show presented by Creamhotel from New York featured a controversial installation
by a French artist named Virginie Sommet, entitled Body Flush (2009). At first glance, these tiny material forms
encased in colorful boxes appear to be harmless; perhaps small portions of tree
roots or another organic substance found in nature. What the installation holds
within is indeed natural, but in actuality, it is something quite grotesque.
The artist had three colonics performed by a specialist in
one week to obtain six pounds of her own differents layers of undigested food stuck in her colon by fears and stress during many years, which she then dried and contained
inside the small plexiglass cases. Sommet followed the instructions in Dr.
Jensen’s Guide to Better Bowel Care and ate no solid food for a week, but drank only olive oil and apple vinegar to
retrieve the medium for this piece.
This work is the epitome of
anti-art. Art has no boundaries in the 21st century but collectively,
it aims to be a vehicle of freedom of creative expression. Flushing the body in
this case was a way for the artist to rid herself of traumas and fears that had
materialized within her intestines. Several strong commentaries are present, as this artist is utilizing the concept of the ready-made by preserving her undigested food as fine art.
Displaying the most unconventional medium one might ever
expect, Sommet has done what the Fountain exhibit does best every year. On the
statement next to her installation, she had written an explanation that read,
“The colonic is a way to touch our inner self, our deepest self. The colonic
gives a possibility to change our self organically and physically.” It can be
derived that the artist is sharing her deepest sense of her physical self in Body Flush. In an innovative approach to
once again challenge what is acceptable in the art world, she has devised a new
interpretation of the artistic medium to symbolize freedom of the inner self
and communicate a message of mental freedom and spiritual enlightenment.
Labels:
Art,
DADA,
Fountain Miami,
Fountain NYC,
Virginie Sommet
Sunday, 19 May 2013
Saturday, 6 April 2013
Friday, 29 March 2013
Tuesday, 19 March 2013
Wednesday, 6 March 2013
TREES
I THINK that I shall never see | |
A poem lovely as a tree. | |
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest | |
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast; | |
A tree that looks at God all day, | |
And lifts her leafy arms to pray; | |
A tree that may in summer wear | |
A nest of robins in her hair; | |
Upon whose bosom snow has lain; | |
Who intimately lives with rain. | |
Poems are made by fools like me, | |
But only God can make a tree. |
Friday, 1 March 2013
Wednesday, 27 February 2013
(inspiration)
from the First German Dada Manifesto of 1918:
"Art in its execution and direction is dependent on the time in which it lives, and artists are creatures of their epoch. The highest art will be that which in its conscious content presents the thousandfold problems of the day, the art which has been visibly shattered by the explosions of last week... The best and most extraordinary artists will be those who every hour snatch the tatters of their bodies out of the frenzied cataract of life, who, with bleeding hands and hearts, hold fast to the intelligence of their time."
—Richard Huelsenbeck (b. 1892 – 1974 d.)
Cut with a Kitchen Knife, by Hannah Höch
Friday, 1 February 2013
My darling machine.
The love of my life!
The greatest instrument I have ever seen and heard, the highlight of my NAMM experience, I could listen to it forever.
Wednesday, 30 January 2013
Sunday, 13 January 2013
Fountain Reflections: Part I
My Fountain embroidery; it reminds me of the Chinese New Year.
The following paragraph is from Performance Art: From Futurism to the Present by Roselee Goldberg, published in 1978.
The Art of Ideas
"The year 1968 prematurely marked the beginning of the decade of the seventies. In that year political events severely unsettled cultural and social life throughout Europe and the U.S. The mood was one of irritation and anger with prevailing values and structures. Students and workers shouted slogans and erected street barricades in protest against 'the establishment'. Many younger artists approached the institution of art with equal, if less violent, disdain. They questioned and accepted premises of art and attempted to re-define its meaning and function. Moreover, artists took it upon themselves to express these new directions in lengthy texts, rather than leave that responsibility to the mediator, the art critic. The gallery was attacked as an institution of commercialism and other outlets sought for communicating ideas to the public. On a personal level, it was a time when each artist re-evaluated his or her own intentions for making art, and when each action was to be seen as part of an overall investigation of art processes and not, paradoxically, as an appeal for popular acceptance."
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