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telemachy:

from the PRESS RELEASE (1999) project, where a London gallery “corrects” language in art show announcements “grammatically and theoretically.” An example of what a recent Triple Canopy essay calls “International Art English”

telemachy:

from the PRESS RELEASE (1999) project, where a London gallery “corrects” language in art show announcements “grammatically and theoretically.” An example of what a recent Triple Canopy essay calls “International Art English

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There is simply no allegorical, edifying or fully-formed way to show completely senseless acts of violence. The narrative always skids right up to the point where the young man, who was so much like other young men, begins assembling a small armory. After the jump, a story that had been told in the fraudulent math that tries to balance a recognizable, human childhood with an incomprehensible, inhuman act, switches over to the fractured language of the newscast: helicopter images, computer re-enactments, grainy home videos, 911 calls, yearbook photos, the shots of children who could be our children crying in small huddles outside the crime scene. After two years of reading, watching and listening to pretty much everything about Cho Seung-Hui, I realized, with a thin flare of defeat, that the distance between us could never be measured, at least not in any instructive way.

Violence and Making Sense | The Awl

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And Dali made a cookbook.

And Dali made a cookbook.

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indubio:

National Geographic 1939

indubio:

National Geographic 1939

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i never thought that looking at a painting like this would ever compel me to cry.
areaofinterest:

Michael Chase

i never thought that looking at a painting like this would ever compel me to cry.

areaofinterest:

Michael Chase

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i am so excited about this blog.
About:

A series of photographs depicting meals from novels. More to come.All images © Dinah Fried


fictitious-dishes:

The Catcher in the RyeThis photograph depicts a scene from J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye, in which Holden Caulfield stops at a drug store and orders a cheese sandwich and a malted after a very bad date. 

i am so excited about this blog.

About:

A series of photographs depicting meals from novels. More to come.

All images © Dinah Fried

fictitious-dishes:

The Catcher in the Rye
This photograph depicts a scene from J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye, in which Holden Caulfield stops at a drug store and orders a cheese sandwich and a malted after a very bad date. 

Link

The Template of Our Grief - The Atlantic

The way mass casualty stories unfold in America has taken on a chilling familiarity.

As New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg again calls for gun control efforts from our national leaders and critic Anthony Lane examines whether the shooter in Aurora, Colo. could have been inspired by the villain in The Dark Knight Rises, it’s clear that we as a nation have developed an awful template for reacting to our growing catalog of domestic mass casualty events.

The age of new media being now well-established, it goes a little something like this:

First we get the shaky camera phone videos and the tweets. Then the distraught eyewitness interviews and 911 call recording. Quickly, the shooter is identified. Politicians issue statements of shock and sorrow. The shooter’s parents, if interviewed, are confused and abashed or else hide. The social media forensics begin. People with the same or a similar name as the shooter are harassed. There is speculation he is part of a right-wing group, or an Islamic terrorist, or a former Army veteran. The FBI and the armed forces check their records and issue denials or confirmations. Calls for better gun control efforts are issued once again. Defenders of the Second Amendment fight back immediately, or even pre-emptively. The victims of the shooting are blamed in social media for being where they were attacked. More eye-witness interviews. The shooter’s parents are castigated. Survivors speak. Warning signs are identified as the alleged shooter’s past is plumbed. We ask if violent movies are to blame for his actions. Or cuts to mental health services. And talk about what kind of country we are, if we have culture of violence. The death toll fluctuates. International voices from countries where guns are heavily regulated shake their heads at us. People leave piles of flowers and teddy bears at the shooting site. There are candlelight vigils, and teary memorials. Everyone calls for national unity and a moment of togetherness. Eventually, the traumatized community holds a big healing ceremony. It is moving, and terribly sad, and watched by millions on TV or online. A few activists continue to make speeches. The shooter, if still alive, rapidly is brought to trail. There is another wave of public discussion about our failures, and the nature of evil. Politicians make feints at gun law changes, which fail. And then everyone forgets and moves on. Everyone, that is, except the survivors.

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of poetry, and other things: Dreams

margaretrhee:

i love dreams. and love this post my friend ianna owens, poet, scholar, activist, wrote on her dream. xo

ibik23:

Last night I dreamt of a paper on ethnotemporality—a word I have never encountered in my waking life. Trying to find out more about it now. The article in my dream was a map of…

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"Whenever we are together at a table with food, wine, music and laughter, inevitably there will be stains. I happen to love these flaws—to me, they are evocative and commemorative." Such are the words spoken by UK-based Elvis Robertson, a bespoke textile practitioner who hand stitches on wine-stained tablecloths, creating beauty out of imperfection. Robertson, who studied graphics and illustration at St. Martin’s College, creates subtle pieces with what she calls "constellations, which are slowly revealed from the pattern of stains when viewed from a distance." To learn more or to commission a piece visit Elvis Robertson. (via Tablecloths That Tell a Story : Remodelista)

"Whenever we are together at a table with food, wine, music and laughter, inevitably there will be stains. I happen to love these flaws—to me, they are evocative and commemorative." Such are the words spoken by UK-based Elvis Robertson, a bespoke textile practitioner who hand stitches on wine-stained tablecloths, creating beauty out of imperfection. Robertson, who studied graphics and illustration at St. Martin’s College, creates subtle pieces with what she calls "constellations, which are slowly revealed from the pattern of stains when viewed from a distance." To learn more or to commission a piece visit Elvis Robertson. (via Tablecloths That Tell a Story : Remodelista)

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A Chinese couple on a bicycle take cover beneath an underpass as tanks deploy overhead in eastern Beijing, on June 5, 1989. (AP Photo/Liu Heung Shing) (via In Focus - Tiananmen Square, Then and Now - The Atlantic)

A Chinese couple on a bicycle take cover beneath an underpass as tanks deploy overhead in eastern Beijing, on June 5, 1989. (AP Photo/Liu Heung Shing) (via In Focus - Tiananmen Square, Then and Now - The Atlantic)

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wonderfulambiguity:

Top: Nicolas Yantchevsky, Les Vacances de Maigret, 1954Bottom Left: Lucien Hervé, Charlotte Perriand Chair, Le Corbusier Bottom Right: André Kertész, At Mondrian’s, 1926

wonderfulambiguity:

Top: Nicolas Yantchevsky, Les Vacances de Maigret, 1954Bottom Left: Lucien Hervé, Charlotte Perriand Chair, Le Corbusier Bottom Right: André Kertész, At Mondrian’s, 1926

wonderfulambiguity:

Top: Nicolas Yantchevsky, Les Vacances de Maigret, 1954Bottom Left: Lucien Hervé, Charlotte Perriand Chair, Le Corbusier Bottom Right: André Kertész, At Mondrian’s, 1926

wonderfulambiguity:

Top: Nicolas Yantchevsky, Les Vacances de Maigret, 1954
Bottom Left: Lucien Hervé, Charlotte Perriand Chair, Le Corbusier 
Bottom Right: André Kertész, At Mondrian’s, 1926

Audio

zitterberg:

tvsfolder:

Heidelberg 10. August 1904.

fragments of the past comes standing at a kitchen’s window. the volume settings folder.

Breathtaking.

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telemachy:

“The Lady Poets with Foot Notes” (Nov. 1924) by Ernest Hemingway

telemachy:

The Lady Poets with Foot Notes” (Nov. 1924) by Ernest Hemingway

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