Wednesday, 22 December 2010
Narrow Minded Mass
Narrow minded mass: "A person is a book identified and automatically stereotyped to a group or scene via the type of music he/she listens to."
Rats: A Rare Strange Fact or Story
Forget about Banksy Rats, here's a rare true story/fact related to rats you'll never forget!
At the end of the 19th Century, Britain faced a huge infestation in their sardine factories. No one knew how to eliminate the small rodents efficiently. A cat wasn't feasible because a cat wouldn't move an inch to catch a rat with all the sardines in sight, yum yum! It would be a hopeless idea!
Eventually one woman, so fed up with one rat eating from a sardine, caught it off guard and took serious measures by sewing its arse up, thinking that would teach it a lesson!
Thinking the rat would die a slow and painful death, she decided to throw it out the factory. But very quickly it got back inside to join the rest of its clan beneath the floorboards. Of course, the rat continued to eat as usual, and eventually being unable to excrete, grew fatter and madder with rage. This rage caused it to viscously attack the other rats from its family!
The rats all called a meeting and said, "we have to leave, we have to get away from this crazy fucker". And so the rats all left the factory to avoid the rage of their fallen comrade. Of course this poor shit loaded rat eventually died, ergo no more rats. It is a true recorded fact that once this was discovered, the job of women "sewing rats arses" became a trade considered manual labour to go from factory to factory, bakery to bakery in order to eliminate the rodent vermin scum.
At the end of the 19th Century, Britain faced a huge infestation in their sardine factories. No one knew how to eliminate the small rodents efficiently. A cat wasn't feasible because a cat wouldn't move an inch to catch a rat with all the sardines in sight, yum yum! It would be a hopeless idea!
Eventually one woman, so fed up with one rat eating from a sardine, caught it off guard and took serious measures by sewing its arse up, thinking that would teach it a lesson!
Thinking the rat would die a slow and painful death, she decided to throw it out the factory. But very quickly it got back inside to join the rest of its clan beneath the floorboards. Of course, the rat continued to eat as usual, and eventually being unable to excrete, grew fatter and madder with rage. This rage caused it to viscously attack the other rats from its family!
The rats all called a meeting and said, "we have to leave, we have to get away from this crazy fucker". And so the rats all left the factory to avoid the rage of their fallen comrade. Of course this poor shit loaded rat eventually died, ergo no more rats. It is a true recorded fact that once this was discovered, the job of women "sewing rats arses" became a trade considered manual labour to go from factory to factory, bakery to bakery in order to eliminate the rodent vermin scum.
Saturday, 18 December 2010
Priests in Porsches, Cops in Heels
Recently I've been getting into the work of the photographer Szymon Brodziak. He plays around with stereotypes, femininity, and gender roles. The heterosexual alpha male type often drops his jaw at seeing women with fast cars on motorbikes all greased up as such which is somewhat quite ridiculous. The awful magazines like nuts and FHM come to mind when I think of this, however Brodziak's photographs mess around with this hegemonic portrayal of women as objects, the lampshade, instead adding his own quirks, puns and alarming juxtapositions. I think at times his work plays up to this male heterosexual stereotype whilst cleverly criticising it at the same time. Not only is he a good nude photographer but does it in a different way with something funny and interesting to say as well.
Makoto Aida & Chim↑Pom Collective Japan
Makoto Aida is one of Japan's most controversial artists. Having worked in several media, the Tokyo art scene is often interested to see where this man will take his work next. He is often excitingly unpredictable in his direction. Several artistic angles have been covered with an oeuvre that includes manga, video, painting and installation, exerting a huge range of expressive qualities. It is difficult to believe the fact that it could all have been created by a single artist still in a ripe age of 35.
In this show "Otoko no Sake" a fun and playful entrance awaited visitors to this splashy installation; visitors had to climb a three-step ladder, hoist themselves through a hole in the wall and slide down a three-meter-long "tongue" in order to get inside.
Aida is best-known for his disturbing Nihonga paintings of young female amputees, some of them leashed like a dog. He has also exhibited a "Fake Suicide Machine", built a cardboard castle for the Shinjuku homeless, and done a splendid series of mock children’s paintings on themes such as "Save Nature," and "Be Punctual."
A political-activist in college, Aida said he believed that "English-language education was an intrusion by American imperialism," and initially resolved not to learn the language. I leave you with some other amazing famous images of his work.
Chim↑Pom is a group of 6 Japanese artists based in Tokyo, Japan. Known for their use of outlandish, avant-garde art projects, the group met through the controversial Japanese artist Makoto Aida and has become well known since they formed in 2005 as a group that can do anything at any time.
One of their crazy projects: Super Rat is a taxidermically stuffed rat frozen and painted to look like Pikachu. The project was the result of an observation of the rats running around in Shibuya alongside young girls dressed as the rat-like Pokemon.
Further research found that many rats were developing immunities to rat poisons becoming “super rats”. The project was as an expression of what has grown to become a strong integral part of Japanese and worldwide society, created by humans, as expressed in pop culture.
In this show "Otoko no Sake" a fun and playful entrance awaited visitors to this splashy installation; visitors had to climb a three-step ladder, hoist themselves through a hole in the wall and slide down a three-meter-long "tongue" in order to get inside.
Aida is best-known for his disturbing Nihonga paintings of young female amputees, some of them leashed like a dog. He has also exhibited a "Fake Suicide Machine", built a cardboard castle for the Shinjuku homeless, and done a splendid series of mock children’s paintings on themes such as "Save Nature," and "Be Punctual."
A political-activist in college, Aida said he believed that "English-language education was an intrusion by American imperialism," and initially resolved not to learn the language. I leave you with some other amazing famous images of his work.
Chim↑Pom is a group of 6 Japanese artists based in Tokyo, Japan. Known for their use of outlandish, avant-garde art projects, the group met through the controversial Japanese artist Makoto Aida and has become well known since they formed in 2005 as a group that can do anything at any time.
One of their crazy projects: Super Rat is a taxidermically stuffed rat frozen and painted to look like Pikachu. The project was the result of an observation of the rats running around in Shibuya alongside young girls dressed as the rat-like Pokemon.
Further research found that many rats were developing immunities to rat poisons becoming “super rats”. The project was as an expression of what has grown to become a strong integral part of Japanese and worldwide society, created by humans, as expressed in pop culture.
SUPER☆RAT, 2006, courtesy Mujin-to Production, Tokyo. All images © Chim↑Pom.
Friday, 17 December 2010
Bovary, Orgasm and the Devil
Rodolphe Boulanger does not take the hand of Madame Bovary in this sexual adulterous affair. The big balled man does not whisk her away no no! She is a married woman. She is a woman of sexual desires, perversions, thus a woman with far too much imagination!!!
Despite losing the ring here, the bull leaves a rejection letter beneath a basket of Apricots for her.
When the shock of his note is too great Madame Bovary falls ill and turns to religion (all the while her husband a clueless cuckold). Is that partly out of guilt one asks that she shall bury her misery in God? Is it because her journey of pleasures brought her no ultimate love. (Stop crying and replace love with imagination!) Or is it that in bitter loneliness of rejection, God becomes another form of ecstasy that fuels the imagination?
We know this from the Bernini sculpture - 'The ecstasy of Saint Theresa"
...where Saint Thresa famously had an orgasm over God and literally wet herself, a great big ecclesiastical cumpie moment. Let us take a few seconds to spiritually meditate over that thought.
Sometimes when I see 'wet nuns' I 'wet' myself too as is the case here hehe!
Moving on from such jokes, One must not seek to be in love in life but rather to be in love with life instead. Love is not a reward. One must love beauty in all shapes, forms and colours whilst you have eyes to see it. Love music and sounds of all kinds whilst you have ears to hear it. Love experiencing each smell from flowers, to perfumes, to garbage or even poo whilst you have a nose to sniff. Love all the flavours there are to taste whilst you have a tongue to taste it? If you are open to the pros and cons of life you will marvel at how everything truly is, because good is bad and bad is good, there is no opposition except that in the mind.
When hard times are upon people, they look for hope in God's communities. If they are unable to taste the tastes and smell the smells in this world they hope that in the Garden of Eden, (this mythologised dream where poor people become healthily fat and gluttenous) is where they will eventually go to. I wonder what the wall between this world and the next looks like? A cloud? is it concrete? pearly gates like a park?
The figures of God's communities do not deliver 'God's' messages anymore but their own, often critical of idolising beauty and worshipping the human body, which artists must celebrate and not reject! Even Christ's body was a celebration in religious iconic art. Christ himself in human form was the revelation. I wonder how many graves were robbed to learn how to draw and paint the beauty of the body whilst the flesh was still in tact (banned by religion).
According to religious leaders, whilst hope actually comes from the hands of other human beings, this is often translated as divine intervention through the work of human beings! This argument is age old, as is saying Science can be used to understand the work of god's miracles and creation. I have a feeling that were it not for religion the word miracle would quickly fall out of existence and become extinct! One must accept evolution is a reality of life.
In parts of the world where life is pitiful where the work of the fiery devil devours souls and crops, in deserts of drought and famine, where life is in its most simplest form you will find calls to prayer. Signs and symbols become epic signifiers of so called hope and redemption. It gives them reason despite loss of rationality. Perhaps one can say that "the more the Devil gives, the more God receives."
Despite losing the ring here, the bull leaves a rejection letter beneath a basket of Apricots for her.
When the shock of his note is too great Madame Bovary falls ill and turns to religion (all the while her husband a clueless cuckold). Is that partly out of guilt one asks that she shall bury her misery in God? Is it because her journey of pleasures brought her no ultimate love. (Stop crying and replace love with imagination!) Or is it that in bitter loneliness of rejection, God becomes another form of ecstasy that fuels the imagination?
We know this from the Bernini sculpture - 'The ecstasy of Saint Theresa"
...where Saint Thresa famously had an orgasm over God and literally wet herself, a great big ecclesiastical cumpie moment. Let us take a few seconds to spiritually meditate over that thought.
Sometimes when I see 'wet nuns' I 'wet' myself too as is the case here hehe!
Moving on from such jokes, One must not seek to be in love in life but rather to be in love with life instead. Love is not a reward. One must love beauty in all shapes, forms and colours whilst you have eyes to see it. Love music and sounds of all kinds whilst you have ears to hear it. Love experiencing each smell from flowers, to perfumes, to garbage or even poo whilst you have a nose to sniff. Love all the flavours there are to taste whilst you have a tongue to taste it? If you are open to the pros and cons of life you will marvel at how everything truly is, because good is bad and bad is good, there is no opposition except that in the mind.
When hard times are upon people, they look for hope in God's communities. If they are unable to taste the tastes and smell the smells in this world they hope that in the Garden of Eden, (this mythologised dream where poor people become healthily fat and gluttenous) is where they will eventually go to. I wonder what the wall between this world and the next looks like? A cloud? is it concrete? pearly gates like a park?
The figures of God's communities do not deliver 'God's' messages anymore but their own, often critical of idolising beauty and worshipping the human body, which artists must celebrate and not reject! Even Christ's body was a celebration in religious iconic art. Christ himself in human form was the revelation. I wonder how many graves were robbed to learn how to draw and paint the beauty of the body whilst the flesh was still in tact (banned by religion).
According to religious leaders, whilst hope actually comes from the hands of other human beings, this is often translated as divine intervention through the work of human beings! This argument is age old, as is saying Science can be used to understand the work of god's miracles and creation. I have a feeling that were it not for religion the word miracle would quickly fall out of existence and become extinct! One must accept evolution is a reality of life.
In parts of the world where life is pitiful where the work of the fiery devil devours souls and crops, in deserts of drought and famine, where life is in its most simplest form you will find calls to prayer. Signs and symbols become epic signifiers of so called hope and redemption. It gives them reason despite loss of rationality. Perhaps one can say that "the more the Devil gives, the more God receives."
In his own image
Genesis 1:27 ~ "God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him"
God is a gay-homosexual-bi-sexual-transexual-transvestite-heterosexual-lesbian!
God is a gay-homosexual-bi-sexual-transexual-transvestite-heterosexual-lesbian!
Žižek & Rubbish
Slavoj Žižek argues that we must learn to love our garbage, that hating pollution is like hating nature — and ourselves — and a dangerous political choice. Convergence seems like a wonderful first step in this direction, a chance to fall in love with what we loathe and to re imagine our relationship with it, and maybe come to understand the ways in which waste is really an extension of who we are and what we do.
Artwork entitled Idria's Cloud by Anne Percoco is a boat made out of recycled plastic bottles in India.
Artwork entitled Idria's Cloud by Anne Percoco is a boat made out of recycled plastic bottles in India.
Thursday, 16 December 2010
Contemporary Art and Worthlessness
Oh no oh dear oh no oh dear oh no idea oh no idea...
On some works of art, and not the most minor ones: they have all the appearance of worthlessness; they say they are worthless and they truly are.
This is where the whole ambiguity of contemporary art resides: Laying claim to worthlessness, insignificance, non-meaning and banality; straining for worthlessness, when it is in fact already worthless. Aiming for non-meaning when it is in fact already insignificant. Aspiring to superficiality in superficial terms. Minimal thought had already met the same unfortunate fate.
Everywhere the same incantation: I'm worthless, I'm worthless! Now worthlessness is a secret quality which cannot be claimed by just anyone. Insignificance is the secret quality of a few rare works, works which never lay claim to it. The claim of worthlessness is, for its part, merely bluff and blackmail, aimed at extorting credit and a sense of importance a contrario, the implication being that the work cannot possibly be so worthless, that there must be something hidden in it. Contemporary art plays on this uncertainty, banking on the guilt of those who understand nothing of it (that is to say, those who have a precise intuition of what there is to be understood).
On some works of art, and not the most minor ones: they have all the appearance of worthlessness; they say they are worthless and they truly are.
This is where the whole ambiguity of contemporary art resides: Laying claim to worthlessness, insignificance, non-meaning and banality; straining for worthlessness, when it is in fact already worthless. Aiming for non-meaning when it is in fact already insignificant. Aspiring to superficiality in superficial terms. Minimal thought had already met the same unfortunate fate.
Everywhere the same incantation: I'm worthless, I'm worthless! Now worthlessness is a secret quality which cannot be claimed by just anyone. Insignificance is the secret quality of a few rare works, works which never lay claim to it. The claim of worthlessness is, for its part, merely bluff and blackmail, aimed at extorting credit and a sense of importance a contrario, the implication being that the work cannot possibly be so worthless, that there must be something hidden in it. Contemporary art plays on this uncertainty, banking on the guilt of those who understand nothing of it (that is to say, those who have a precise intuition of what there is to be understood).
Pipes
Baudelaire says that every man bears within him a ceaselessly renewed dose of natural opium.
There is, thus, an innate form of the will's dissociation from itself - secret element of birth.
"it is you whom your pipe smokes." It is you the screen watches.
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
Time
"I always arrive on time. even without trying. There is a kind of fatality about this, based on an unfailing internal accounting system.
Day and night, even when I am awakened unexpectedly, I always know what time it is. Obsessional? Of course.
But in our culture it is time itself that is neurotic. From the moment when 'two o'clock means two o'clock', there is no longer any normal solution to the problem of time.
Whether you arrive on time, early or late, nothing is psychologically normal any longer.
There is no longer any possibility of a free relation to time, except when it merges with space and speed."
Day and night, even when I am awakened unexpectedly, I always know what time it is. Obsessional? Of course.
But in our culture it is time itself that is neurotic. From the moment when 'two o'clock means two o'clock', there is no longer any normal solution to the problem of time.
Whether you arrive on time, early or late, nothing is psychologically normal any longer.
There is no longer any possibility of a free relation to time, except when it merges with space and speed."
Thursday, 9 December 2010
Hitler, 4 More to go
Ok, Yeah! 4 more sculptures to go for my Limmud commission/installation at Warwick Arts Centre: YEAH!
Oh and I wanted to give you a sneak preview of my Hitler. Don't worry. It's ok to tease because it's nothing like what the finished installation will look like mwahaha!
I love my Hitler. What a great leader? Fucking bastard!
I think I'll paint you red you sicko.
Penis sword.
I am the answer
Oh and I wanted to give you a sneak preview of my Hitler. Don't worry. It's ok to tease because it's nothing like what the finished installation will look like mwahaha!
I love my Hitler. What a great leader? Fucking bastard!
I think I'll paint you red you sicko.
Penis sword.
I am the answer
What I love about Winter
These are the beautiful window handles in parts of my mansion. During Winter, the mansion is a lovely warm place. It needs repainting. Warm mansions are where I can burp and fart without watching my own gas freeze or condensate. This I like a lot. I wish they made handles like they used to. The more modern part of my mansion is so unoriginal and lacks genuine authenticity that one gives to period mansions. Don't you think?
I like Winter because I'm reminded of Russian wintery spy novels from the Cold period. So I attempt to spy on people on the streets through keyholes and shit. Joseph Conrad trudging in the snow.
I like watching shit crystallise like a chemistry set or nature. Stuff still growing covered in icicles. That is something beautiful. Like a human cryogenically frozen. I'm reminded of demolition man with Snipes and Stallone, when they release loads of liquid nitrogen and Snipes gets frozen. Stallone kicks off Snipes head in the end and it smashes into shards. Wow! (I mean now it looks terrible, but as a kid the effects are amazing), but it is this thing of beauty trapped in glass. Trapped in Ice. The crazy artist spotted this on his way home one day.
Rose hip plip lip plop pop. you look so happeee....soooooo...happyeeees you doo dooo doooo?? (I like talking to flowers like mothers with new born babies, because neither can understand us).
A rose caught in the frozen lovedy dove of Winter, "come on the countryside" the kids chant in their thermaline gloves. "I'll pie you in the face with my snowcake"... Alton Castle walks and Graveyard hunts for red breasted robins still surviving the cold. All the memories flash back of eating snow with sticks for spoons. A few frozen ants on a fire.
the colour red, the colour white, all light up the bush, a site to see, in the cold breeze, I froze my bollocks off, too long I'll catch a cough, whilst I photograph, this flower in my head makes me laugh, why out loud though that's bad? now the passing lady thinks I'm a little mad! I whisper to rose, I'm going to write some prose, that rhythm a little later than you expected to hear in this thing I see you dancing with the flowers. Stranger get out of my bush! that is for the old folks to look, at me prancing with my camera hopping with one knee jutting out, Run away the gardener shouts! I was having fun in the Winter now it's time to disa-splinter into shards behind the path where the man can no longer see me laugh. haha! burp. Fart. Back in the mansion. wiyoarghhhurrumerrr...
I like Winter because I'm reminded of Russian wintery spy novels from the Cold period. So I attempt to spy on people on the streets through keyholes and shit. Joseph Conrad trudging in the snow.
I like watching shit crystallise like a chemistry set or nature. Stuff still growing covered in icicles. That is something beautiful. Like a human cryogenically frozen. I'm reminded of demolition man with Snipes and Stallone, when they release loads of liquid nitrogen and Snipes gets frozen. Stallone kicks off Snipes head in the end and it smashes into shards. Wow! (I mean now it looks terrible, but as a kid the effects are amazing), but it is this thing of beauty trapped in glass. Trapped in Ice. The crazy artist spotted this on his way home one day.
Rose hip plip lip plop pop. you look so happeee....soooooo...happyeeees you doo dooo doooo?? (I like talking to flowers like mothers with new born babies, because neither can understand us).
A rose caught in the frozen lovedy dove of Winter, "come on the countryside" the kids chant in their thermaline gloves. "I'll pie you in the face with my snowcake"... Alton Castle walks and Graveyard hunts for red breasted robins still surviving the cold. All the memories flash back of eating snow with sticks for spoons. A few frozen ants on a fire.
the colour red, the colour white, all light up the bush, a site to see, in the cold breeze, I froze my bollocks off, too long I'll catch a cough, whilst I photograph, this flower in my head makes me laugh, why out loud though that's bad? now the passing lady thinks I'm a little mad! I whisper to rose, I'm going to write some prose, that rhythm a little later than you expected to hear in this thing I see you dancing with the flowers. Stranger get out of my bush! that is for the old folks to look, at me prancing with my camera hopping with one knee jutting out, Run away the gardener shouts! I was having fun in the Winter now it's time to disa-splinter into shards behind the path where the man can no longer see me laugh. haha! burp. Fart. Back in the mansion. wiyoarghhhurrumerrr...
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