Boken i sin helhet:
torsdag 25. mars 2010
Klimakunst
Yao Lu, 'Spring in the City', 2009
C-Print, 120 x 120 cm. Courtesy of the artist and Red Mansion Foundation
Sue Williams by Nancy Spero BOMB 42/Winter 1993, ART
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Klikk her for å se innlegget.
I serien kvinnelige malere...
Helena Schjerfbeck (Finnish, 1862-1946). Self Portrait with Black Background, 1915. Oil on canvas
onsdag 24. mars 2010
tirsdag 23. mars 2010
GUERILLAGIRLS
søndag 21. mars 2010
Bråk! takk
Flåsete kvinnelitteratur? Ifølge forfatterne selv tenker du nettopp dette fordi boken er skrevet av to personer av det annet kjønn.
torsdag 18. mars 2010
Sitat fra
Apropos fenomenologi:
Sitatet mangler, boken mangler, men når jeg finner det skal jeg fylle det inn. Den som venter på noe godt.
tirsdag 16. mars 2010
http://everypersoninnewyork.blogspot.com/
"I am trying to draw every person in New York. I will be drawing people everyday and posting as frequently as I can. It is possible that I will draw you without you knowing it. I draw in Subway stations and museums and restaurants and on street corners. I try not to be in the way when I am drawing or be too noticeable. Whenever I have a new batch of drawings I will post them on this blog."
lørdag 13. mars 2010
torsdag 11. mars 2010
tirsdag 9. mars 2010
lørdag 6. mars 2010
We are deranged
Utdrag fra:http://www.metropolism.com/magazine/2006-no6/wij-zijn-gestoord/english
Suddenly at the centre of a hype, Markus Schinwald (b. 1973) is not happy with all the attention his work is getting, which goes along with the interest in the essence of man, sex and passion that seems to be cropping up everywhere. This type of art, which nowadays he is sometimes associated with, he calls 'psycho-kitsch', while his own work is of a more conceptual nature. Time to set things right.
This year, Markus Schinwald’s automated marionettes were shown as part of the Don Quixote exhibition at Witte de With and at the Berlin Biennial. In his installations, photos and videos, the Salzburg-born artist regularly focuses attention on human beings with their fragile, manipulable physicality and their bottomless psychological depths. Schinwald often puts his characters at the mercy of contrived obsessions, and he does not shy away from autistic rituals or neurotic ticks. He works all the registers of the diverse intellectual heritage of Vienna, where he lives, with enthusiasm and precision, just as he unhesitatingly makes use of current crossovers between fashion, cinema and science fiction.
In the film Dictio pii (2001), seven characters make their way around an empty, rather shabby hotel. Their unintentional encounters remain strangely vague. Doors open, only for the figures to disappear into the next room. In a lift, an old man ceaselessly dusts off his clothes; one actor wears a jacket that has been converted into a straightjacket; an elderly woman wears a metal fixture on her shoulder as she moves through the puzzling scenarios. The curious protagonists appear isolated, but also linked in some unspecified way, although there is no conventional plot binding them together. The film consists of five individual sequences that can be freely combined. There is, then, no beginning or end – instead, a level of meaning is generated by the indefinable hotel setting and the fetishized outfits. The scenes are also linked via the soundtrack, which applies to all of the protagonists. This voice off slowly morphs from a deep male voice to that of a woman. The last sentence of the videos, which is spoken in lip-synch, is: ‘We are deranged’.
Do you use the voiceover as an experimental shifting of codes, or is it more a play on the enigmatic aura of the androgynous?
‘The voice in Dictio pii begins as a kind of inner monologue, making what is said valid for each of the characters we see, only the last sentence is spoken in lip-synch. It could be described as a breaking of the voice in reverse, beginning deep and ending high. With the morphing voice I wanted to underline that thought (or human existence in general) is not stable.’
... and as a way of destabilizing gender codes?
’Yes, but unlike the gender debate where genders are treated separately, I was interested precisely in not making this distinction and letting the voice pass smoothly from one to the other.’
Your distinctive mises-en-scène not only adapt motifs from psychoanalysis, they also associatively make links within cultural history, as well as referring to fashion, theatre and film. How do you operate in your artistic work with or across the dividing lines between disciplines?
’Probably like most people of my generation, my first cultural experiences were not with art but with other areas of cultural production. First one is interested in cinema, in music videos or in fashion, and an interest in art only comes much later. To exclude all that later on would be strange. If I am working on a dance production, for example, I don’t worry about dividing lines between different sytems. I don’t go beyond them, I’m afraid. I think that the “art system” doesn’t really have borders. Something becomes art when you find someone, if possible many people, who are prepared to treat this thing, this action, or whatever, as art. A claim is enough. Although that doesn’t mean that everything is equally good or interesting. But the system can be described in this way. Which is why this concept of dividing lines between systems has never got anyone very far in art. It would be better to speak of overlapping systems than about transgressing borders. But from my own experience, I know that attempts at overlapping are very demanding, because different fields are governed by different conventions, there are different historical developments, and works are treated differently.’
(....)
’A few years ago, I wondered why certain topics had slipped out of current art discourse, and why I could think of a hundred artists from the late nineties who had done work on urbanism and modernism, but only very few good works on sex, pathos or the theatre. Now, just a few years later, the canon has changed considerably, and I am often appalled at the psycho-kitsch that is sometimes dished up. Unfortunately, this is also a problem for me, as some of my works also fit in this category, although they were developed in quite a different way – I see them more as disguised conceptual art than as ghost train art.’
"We are deranged"
Markus Schinwald
Suddenly at the centre of a hype, Markus Schinwald (b. 1973) is not happy with all the attention his work is getting, which goes along with the interest in the essence of man, sex and passion that seems to be cropping up everywhere. This type of art, which nowadays he is sometimes associated with, he calls 'psycho-kitsch', while his own work is of a more conceptual nature. Time to set things right.
This year, Markus Schinwald’s automated marionettes were shown as part of the Don Quixote exhibition at Witte de With and at the Berlin Biennial. In his installations, photos and videos, the Salzburg-born artist regularly focuses attention on human beings with their fragile, manipulable physicality and their bottomless psychological depths. Schinwald often puts his characters at the mercy of contrived obsessions, and he does not shy away from autistic rituals or neurotic ticks. He works all the registers of the diverse intellectual heritage of Vienna, where he lives, with enthusiasm and precision, just as he unhesitatingly makes use of current crossovers between fashion, cinema and science fiction.
In the film Dictio pii (2001), seven characters make their way around an empty, rather shabby hotel. Their unintentional encounters remain strangely vague. Doors open, only for the figures to disappear into the next room. In a lift, an old man ceaselessly dusts off his clothes; one actor wears a jacket that has been converted into a straightjacket; an elderly woman wears a metal fixture on her shoulder as she moves through the puzzling scenarios. The curious protagonists appear isolated, but also linked in some unspecified way, although there is no conventional plot binding them together. The film consists of five individual sequences that can be freely combined. There is, then, no beginning or end – instead, a level of meaning is generated by the indefinable hotel setting and the fetishized outfits. The scenes are also linked via the soundtrack, which applies to all of the protagonists. This voice off slowly morphs from a deep male voice to that of a woman. The last sentence of the videos, which is spoken in lip-synch, is: ‘We are deranged’.
Christina Werner:
Markus Schinwald:
Christina Werner:
Markus Schinwald:
(...)
Christina Werner:
Christina Werner:
Markus Schinwald:
(....)
Markus Schinwald:
H j e r t e t s a b e s p a r k e r s i g f r i
Schweppenhäuser/Thomsen & Morten Søndergaard
The Heart’s Monkey Kicks Itself Free /
Der Affe des Herzens strampelt sich frei
----------------
g e i s t m o t o r
men min millimeterhånd skælver afstand måler
raps over kåde neg af frysende styrke mellem kopier
så jeg det så jeg det i din istid og du styrter varm
ud i ramsaltet sne du syr en arm
fast til syntaksens muskulatur og du smiler stjernefjoget
mellem vågen og nogen synger vi
med de mekaniske munde
: rammer en tone og triller bedøvede skrig :
ind i et frontalt planetarium som som som
årringe i vand frosset til ny lyd
afgrunden synger og jeg stammer mig vej
afsøger rummet som en radar
men en ting er sikkert alting forandres og hov
en hånd gik for solen
som at stå med regnen imod ansigtet slippe det
hele med en mild gestus og få
det tilbage som kys alene med gule tings vildrede og ukendt
mærker jeg fremtidsbruset jeg er en sang
kender dig igen som blød vind og fra vinduet
en torden og og og elsket være denne sol
opløst af støj som stormer os i møde på kødtrapper
billedernes blomster springer ud og vi er
begyndt
/ g e i s t m o t o r
but my millimetre hand shakes distance measures
rape above skittish sheaves of freezing strength between copies
did i see that did i see that in your ice age and you rush hotly
out into rank-salted snow you sew an arm
onto the musculature of syntax and you smile star-doltishly
between wake and some we sing
with the mechanical mouths
: hit a note and trills numbed cries :
into a frontal planetarium like like like
growth rings in water frozen to new sound
the abyss sings and i stammer myself a path
scan space like a radar
but one thing is certain everything changes and hey
a hand passed before the sun
like standing with rain in your face let go of
all of it with a mild gesture and get
it back as kisses alone with the tangle of yellow things and unknown
i feel the roar of the future i am a song
i know you again as gentle breeze and from the window
a clap of thunger and and and may this sun be loved
dissolved by noise that rushes at us on stairways of flesh
the flowers of the pictures unfold and we have
begun
The Heart’s Monkey Kicks Itself Free /
Der Affe des Herzens strampelt sich frei
----------------
g e i s t m o t o r
men min millimeterhånd skælver afstand måler
raps over kåde neg af frysende styrke mellem kopier
så jeg det så jeg det i din istid og du styrter varm
ud i ramsaltet sne du syr en arm
fast til syntaksens muskulatur og du smiler stjernefjoget
mellem vågen og nogen synger vi
med de mekaniske munde
: rammer en tone og triller bedøvede skrig :
ind i et frontalt planetarium som som som
årringe i vand frosset til ny lyd
afgrunden synger og jeg stammer mig vej
afsøger rummet som en radar
men en ting er sikkert alting forandres og hov
en hånd gik for solen
som at stå med regnen imod ansigtet slippe det
hele med en mild gestus og få
det tilbage som kys alene med gule tings vildrede og ukendt
mærker jeg fremtidsbruset jeg er en sang
kender dig igen som blød vind og fra vinduet
en torden og og og elsket være denne sol
opløst af støj som stormer os i møde på kødtrapper
billedernes blomster springer ud og vi er
begyndt
/ g e i s t m o t o r
but my millimetre hand shakes distance measures
rape above skittish sheaves of freezing strength between copies
did i see that did i see that in your ice age and you rush hotly
out into rank-salted snow you sew an arm
onto the musculature of syntax and you smile star-doltishly
between wake and some we sing
with the mechanical mouths
: hit a note and trills numbed cries :
into a frontal planetarium like like like
growth rings in water frozen to new sound
the abyss sings and i stammer myself a path
scan space like a radar
but one thing is certain everything changes and hey
a hand passed before the sun
like standing with rain in your face let go of
all of it with a mild gesture and get
it back as kisses alone with the tangle of yellow things and unknown
i feel the roar of the future i am a song
i know you again as gentle breeze and from the window
a clap of thunger and and and may this sun be loved
dissolved by noise that rushes at us on stairways of flesh
the flowers of the pictures unfold and we have
begun
fredag 5. mars 2010
The first-ever film version of Lewis Carroll's tale has recently been restored by the BFI National Archive from severely damaged materials. Made just 37 years after Lewis Carroll wrote his novel and eight years after the birth of cinema, the adaptation was directed by Cecil Hepworth and Percy Stow, and was based on Sir John Tenniel's original illustrations. In an act that was to echo more than 100 years later, Hepworth cast his wife as the Red Queen, and he himself appears as the Frog Footman. Even the Cheshire cat is played by a family pet.
With a running time of just 12 minutes (8 of which survive), Alice in Wonderland was the longest film produced in England at that time. Film archivists have been able to restore the film's original colours for the first time in over 100 years.
Music: 'Jill in the Box', composed and performed by Wendy Hiscocks.
With a running time of just 12 minutes (8 of which survive), Alice in Wonderland was the longest film produced in England at that time. Film archivists have been able to restore the film's original colours for the first time in over 100 years.
Music: 'Jill in the Box', composed and performed by Wendy Hiscocks.
torsdag 4. mars 2010
Begrenser seg (ikke)
Så begrenser postingen seg til de dagene jeg er på jobb og har nett-tilgang. Det er skjønt å være uten.
Denne åpner i dag, og selv om jeg bedriver tvungen full-isolasjon, tror jeg at jeg har tenkt meg en tur. Bare fordi det ser så fint ut.
Denne åpner i dag, og selv om jeg bedriver tvungen full-isolasjon, tror jeg at jeg har tenkt meg en tur. Bare fordi det ser så fint ut.
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