quarta-feira, março 30, 2011

time is running out... always!

terça-feira, março 29, 2011

concerning identity

(...)
Here it’s worth reflecting on what recognition – or, let us say, a desirable recognition – of identity involves. It implies accepting the balance between the uniquely personal and the anonymous. Those whom we call the anonymous are not the forgotten, rather they are the nameless who are remembered. Re-membering literally means bringing members together again.
(...)

Concerning Identity by John Berger

Without exile, who am I?

by Mahmoud Darwish

Stranger on the bank, like the river . . . tied up to your
name by water. Nothing will bring me back from my free
distance to my palm tree: not peace, nor war. Nothing
will inscribe me in the Book of Testaments. Nothing,
nothing glints off the shore of ebb and flow, between
the Tigris and the Nile. Nothing
gets me off the chariots of Pharaoh. Nothing
carries me for a while, or makes me carry an idea: not
promises, nor nostalgia. What am I to do, then? What
am I to do without exile, without a long night
staring at the water?
Tied up
to your name
by water . . .
Nothing takes me away from the butterfly of my dreams
back into my present: not earth, nor fire. What
am I to do, then, without the roses of Samarkand? What
am I to do in a square that burnishes the chanters with
moon-shaped stones? Lighter we both have
become, like our homes in the distant winds. We have
both become friends with the clouds'
strange creatures; outside the reach of the gravity
of the Land of Identity. What are we to do, then . . . What
are we to do without exile, without a long night
staring at the water?
Tied up
to your name
by water . . .
Nothing's left of me except for you; nothing's left of you
except for me -- a stranger caressing his lover's thigh: O
my stranger! What are we to do with what's left for us
of the stillness, of the siesta that separates legend from legend?
Nothing will carry us: not the road, nor home.
Was this road the same from the start,
or did our dreams find a mare among the horses
of the Mongols on the hill, and trade us off?
And what are we to do, then?
What
are we to do
without
exile?


Translated by Anton Shammas from 'The Bed of the Stranger', Riad El-Rayyes Books, Beirut, 1999.

segunda-feira, março 28, 2011

wish I had the time...

to spend all day watching this...

a baroque portrait of meaninglessness celebrating theater

The space is non-representational and contains a wading pool, a beach ball, a chaise lounge and, up front, a couple of bar stools. The actors have full awareness of the audience. The baroque songs that intersperse the dialogue are delivered directly to it.

Paul Lum and Patrick Moffatt in Holiday by Ranters Theatre

...A holiday is often a place where we wait, reassess our goals and give ourselves time to think about what we wish and desire. The performers half-heartedly discuss future endeavors: Moffatt is trying to rid his life of extraneous material possessions and Lum is on the hunt for the perfect mug. The dialogue meanders and changes tact without warning. Dissertations on religion and society sit beside questions about hair waxing and observations about the length of fingers, with equal emphasis on both subjects. There was very little variation in the half interested politeness with which each performer received information from the other. Perhaps listening to a newly acquired travel companion's inane patter is better than being lonely a long way from home. But then again, maybe not.
[here]

...The conversations unfold with a Beckettian logic: they’re talking because they have to, because they can’t really stand the silence. But rather than philosophically provocative polysemy, the dialogue shifts from random anecdotes to comments on music to pretty much anything and everything you might randomly discuss with a chance companion at an airport bar. Every 20 minutes or so, one of the characters randomly breaks into song. Towards the end, a video shows a boat crossing the horizon.
[here]

sábado, março 26, 2011

Cassavetes directing Rowlands

sexta-feira, março 25, 2011

we won't...

"I became a good dreamer, while I never became an outstanding actor."

CHAPTER EIGHT / I become an actor. (...)

In performing a role I liked to imagine myself inserting a surreptitious footnote to the audience. When I was supposed to play a good-hearted lover, I tried to insert a promise of cruelty in my embrace. When I played the villain, I hinted at tenderness. When I crawled, I imagined I was flying. When I danced, I was a cripple.

in, "The Benefactor" (Susan Sontag)

+ + + + + + + +...



E numa apatia geral, numa segurança que só o receio permite, o país vive...

quarta-feira, março 23, 2011

Liz Taylor | 1932 – 2011


Dame Elizabeth Rosemond Taylor, (27 February 1932 – 23 March 2011)

transfigurations




Olivier de Sagazan fait de lui même une humanimalité en petit pitoyable, pathétique, magnifique. Se prenant non pas pour modèle, plus de modèle possible, jamais mais pour figure lui même de cette disparition, de ce disparaissement de toute figure. En quoi il conspire au secours et à la consolation de toutes les figures possibles, faibles, folles, infirmes, fragiles, apparaissant, disparaissant, par lesquelles passent toutes ceux à qui l'humanité est contestée, niée"

Michel Surya

terça-feira, março 22, 2011

on rights and duties: As long as the mind is enslaved, the body can never be free.


March 29, 1968, Memphis, Tennessee: National guardsmen brandishing bayonets 
block civil rights activists trying to stage a protest on Beale Street. 
The marching demonstrators, wearing signs which read 'I Am A Man', 
were also flanked by tanks. 
Photograph © Bettman/Corbis.

Psychological freedom, a firm sense of self-esteem, is the most powerful weapon against the long night of physical slavery. No Lincolnian emancipation proclamation or Johnsonian civil rights bill can totally bring this kind of freedom. The negro will only be free when he reaches down to the inner depths of his own being and signs with the pen and ink of assertive manhood his own emancipation proclamation. And, with a spirit straining toward true self-esteem, the Negro must boldly throw off the manacles of self-abegnation and say to himself and to the world, "I am somebody. I am a person. I am a man with dignity and honor. I have a rich and noble history.

domingo, março 20, 2011

at the...

sexta-feira, março 18, 2011

VOGUE

questions

Votre nom:
Sexe:
Nationalité:
Age:
Votre taille:
Votre poids:
Signes particuliers:
Avez vous des tatouages:

Et la couleur de vos cheveux:
Vos yeux:
Profession:
Situation familiale:
Avez vous de la famille:
Avez vous vous des enfants:

quarta-feira, março 16, 2011

secret heroes

by Brian Kenny

segunda-feira, março 14, 2011

yes, I still dreamed (...)

(...)
The divorce between my life and my dreams I came, through Professor Bulgaraux's instruction, to see precisely as a result of this thing - call it personality, character - which everyone around me seemed to cultivate and take pride in. I concluded that "personality" is simply the result of being off balance. We have "characters" because we have not found our center of gravity. A personality is, at best, a way of meeting the problem of imbalance. But the problem remains. We do not accept ourselves for what we are, we retreat from our real selves, and then erect a personality to bridge the gap.
(...)
But how to escape having a personality?
(...)
Nevertheless, I understood why sexuality, like crime, is an imperishable resource of the impersonal. Properly performed, these acts do blunt the sense of self. It is, I think, because the end is fixed: in sexuality, the orgasm; in crime, the punishment. One become free precisely through those acts which have as inescapable end.
(...)
Tears are serious; one can collect them in a jar. But dreams, like a smile is pure air. Dreams, like smiles, fade rapidly.
But what if the face faded away and the smile remained?
What if life on which the dreams fed withered, and the dreams flourished? Why, one would really be free then, really lightened of one's burdens. Nothing can compare with it.
(...)
I am surprised dreams are not oulawed. What a promise the dream is! How delightful! How private! And one needs no partner, one need not enlist the cooperation of anyone, female or male. Dreams are the onanism of the spirit.

in, "The Benefactor" (Susan Sontag)

‘strong as a cobweb in the wind’


Fragments: Poems, Intimate Notes, Letters
by Marilyn Monroe (Edited by Stanley Buchthal and Bernard Comment)


She wrote about her divided self in the poem, ‘Life – I am of both your directions’. The phrase ‘strong as a cobweb in the wind’ may have inspired Elton John’s 1973 tribute song, ‘Candle in the Wind’ , as Marilyn’s poem was published in Norman Rosten’s Marilyn: The Untold Story that year. 

‘I exist more with the cold glistening frost,’ she continues, ‘But my beaded rays have the colors I’ve seen in paintings/Ah life they have cheated you…’

read more here

domingo, março 13, 2011

La Résistance


Enquanto Susana Silva cantava "Desfolhada" (Escrita em 1968 por Ary dos Santos e interpretada em 1969 por Simone de Oliveira) uma manifestação crescia pacificamente entre testemunhos cheios de uma voz agreste contra um Governo negligente, alguns toldados por um sentimentalismo embebido em nacionalismo casto outros, de forma mais inocente, apenas sinceros na crença de um País que é feito por pessoas e principalmente por muitas das pessoas que no dia 12 de Março saíram à rua alterando os seus sábados comuns, sem boicotes, sem greve, sem violência, sem medo de simplesmente estar e fazer parte de um movimento. 

"Eu gostava de ter estado no 25 de Abril..." disse alguém durante o percurso até ao novo destino improvisado (um lugar melhor para tanta gente)...

Ontem também eu vi uma vontade de um futuro melhor, uma vontade de um futuro melhor aqui mesmo, uma vontade de não querer mais ficar cego, uma vontade de querer andar um pouco mais para a frente, um pouco mais longe do que aquilo que se tinha inicialmente pensado, um pouco mais forte do que aquilo que apenas um microfone permitia, uma vontade de não ficar parado, de se mexer por entre os corpos anulando a chuva e sem medo de escorregar ou ser calcado e chegar junto dos outros que estavam atrás, à frente, dos lados, de todos os lados.
Acima de tudo uma vontade de, que mesmo que isto passe desapercebido, fazer parte uma e outra vez porque os barcos já partiram todos, e não podemos navegar mais erradamente. Todos às voltas num mesmo sitio, mas no mesmo sitio uns com os outros, uma forma de resistir às intempéries e poder indignar-se numa voz colectiva (sem ser num silêncio colectivo que nos esmaga a todos). Ontem um elefante foi solto, ontem um elefante sobreviveu aos criadores de mitos...

quinta-feira, março 10, 2011

#8 | Collapse Into Now



Michael Stipe and R.E.M's idea for their 15th album is a lot grander than a few singles and a couple of music videos. Having called in guest collaborators such as Peaches, Eddie Vedder and Patti Smith for the recording of 'Collapse Into Now', the trio decided to take things a bit further and commission films for each and every of the 12 tracks on the album. Working with talented filmmakers like Sam Taylor-Wood, Lance Bangs, Tom Gilroy and Jem Cohen, R.E.M. gave them free hands to interpret the songs into a short clip of visual delight. Today, we give you the worldwide and exclusive premiere of the French multifaceted artist Sophie Calle's take track number eight, 'Walk It Back'. In Calle's first ever collaborative project with Stipe and his sonic colleagues Peter Buck and Mike Mills, she shot the clip in her native Paris and included a car park dance, a hungry fly admiring the menu and... a urinating horse.

in DAZED DIGITAL

DONT'S: an advice

Don’t stick your hand in the blender.
Don’t use the hairdryer while you’re in the bath.
Unplug the electric saw before you try to fix it.
Don’t point the crossbow at your friends.
Don’t trim your toenails with a carving knife.
Don’t climb inside old freezers at the junkyard.
Don’t put your nephew in the microwave.
Don’t summon demons with the ouija board.
Don’t try to make new holes in your belt while you are still wearing it.
Don’t try to swim to the island.
Don’t throw darts at people.
There is no such thing as a metal frisbee.
Don’t climb on the roof.
Don’t throw stones at me to try to attract my attention.
Don’t shut your eyes while you’re driving.
Don’t drink the grey wine.
Don’t swallow pills that you find in the street.
Don’t stab people with old syringes.
Don’t make your own fireworks.
Don’t drop slabs from motorway bridges.
Don’t take the batteries out of the smoke alarm.
Don’t throw grit at the driver.
Don’t make your own flame thrower.
Stay out of the chemistry labs when the supervisor is absent.
Don’t throw ammunition on the campfire.
Don’t play games with poisonous snakes.
Don’t eat glass.
Don’t smoke in the refueling depot.
Be careful with the nail-gun, and the air rifle, and circular saw.
Don’t glue razorblades onto things.
Don’t pick fights with known psychopaths.
Don’t touch the hot plate.
Don’t hang-glide over the volcano.
Don’t lean out the window while the bullet train is in motion.
Don’t put old car batteries in the furnace.
Don’t play chicken.
Don’t fly a kite beneath the electricity pylons.
Don’t be dared to do dangerous things by people with missing limbs.
Don’t make roadblocks on the bobsleigh run.
Don’t pretend to be a doctor.
Don’t tamper with the braking system.
Don’t shout at old people.
Don’t liberate zoo animals.
Don’t use the lawnmower to trim the hedge.
Don’t give bayonets to children.
Don’t hide the fire extinguisher.
Don’t run in the hospital.
Don’t stick metal coathangers in the toaster while it’s still on.
Don’t buy bomb making equipment.
Don’t slash my tyres while i’m driving.
Don’t play war in the electricity sub-station.
Don’t stage mock executions.
Stay away from the ski jump and the cable car and the funicular railway.
Don’t volunteer for the drugs testing.
Don’t go in hot air balloons.
Don’t press the red buttons.
Obey the stop signs, and the no entry sign, and the speed limit.
Don’t jump over the barriers.
There is no such thing as a metal frisbee.
Don’t try to perform surgery on yourself.
Don’t stick kebab skewers up your nose.
Don’t join the army. [Ignore this one. --Slings and Arrows]
Keep your hands off the gas tap and the welding equipment and the railway signals.
Don’t break into peoples houses and climb up their chimneys.
Don’t park in the fast lane.
Don’t steal police cars.
Don’t pretend to be an acupuncturist or a pilot or a back specialist.
Don’t try to grow biological weapons.
Wash your hands after using pesticides and attempting to grow biological weapons.
And above all, don’t eat scorpions.


by David Shrigley

What makes you 'you'?


see also behind the scenes.

This is the question in Be Your Self

Em GUImarães apresentam-se amanhã. Hoje foi uma pequena amostra na sala de ensaios... e a oportunidade de experimentar!!!!! Obrigado.

terça-feira, março 08, 2011

mardi gras...

masked

'the time to repair the roof is when the sun is shining' by Monster von Schecter



I hope the exit is joyful and I hope never to return
Monster von Schecter

I(W)D



Director: Sam Taylor-Wood. Producer: Barbara Broccoli. Scriptwriter: Jane Goldman. Director of photography: Seamus McGarvey. Featuring Daniel Craig (James Bond) and the voice of Dame Judi Dench (M).

for EQUALS?

IWD

the rest is silence

"The Rest is Silence" Installation - Emanuel Almborg


 (...)
from one word to one word
a possible void


Rasmus Albertsen, Emanuel Almborg, Olof Broström, Aleksander Komarov, Elisabeth Penker

indirectly-curated by Adam Budak

10 March–22 April 2011@ Bäckerstrasse4 – Plattform für junge Kunst
Bäckerstrasse 4 | 1010 Vienna, Austria

Beckettian sense of failure ("fail, fail again, fail better"), so typical for Albertsen and Broström, receives a further elaboration in the cinematic field-work of Emanuel Almborg (born 1981 in Stockholm, lives and works in Stockholm) which deals with performativity's main tool: the speech, or, to be more precise, the absence or cancellation of thereof. The point of departure for the artist's two-part project, spread between Shakespeare's "The Rest Is Silence" (the first chapter appropriating the concluding sentence of "Hamlet" as its title) and Beckett's "Nothing Is Left to Tell" (the sequel's title borrowing the last sentence of a playlet "Ohio Impromptu") is the nature and the history of an experimental and mysterious building project in Hackney, East London, conducted in the late 1970s by a group of borough's residents, according to three rules: no plan nor a blueprint of a construction, a complete silence on the building site, no intention to complete the building, nor to take it in a new direction. Intrigued by "the mystery that always cloaked the structure: its stillness and its silence" and interested in exploring the more generic nature of human communication, the artist decided to reenact the similar experiment on a small island outside Gotland, Sweden in the Summer of 2010. Utopian at its core, Almborg's social psychodrama, "Nothing Is Left to Tell" captures a life in an alarming state of exception while challenging the communal routine under a pressure of unusual (de-subjectifying) obstructions. "If language is central to the human community what happens if we suspend it? How do we relate to each other and how does it affect our social relations and collaboration? Do we find new ways of communicating or do we accept the silence?"—these are only a few of many questions generated by this uncanny project which echoes both the 60s and 70s experiments of "alternative societies" as well as a more contemporary, media-related, spectacle of "reality show".

segunda-feira, março 07, 2011

Michelle Williams's own Blue Valentine



a story of boy meets girl that has another boy that knocks her up and, this first boy dreams about family with the girl who actually is kind of a little fucked up because of her fucked up family, and they both decide on having a "happily ever after" life...the dog dies, he doesn't know what else to do with her and so he drinks and brings the money home, she's completely lost, they both love her daughter... Blue Valentine.


Michelle Williams is playing Marilyn Monroe in her next movie:

My Week with Marilyn (2011)

everyone should agree on this...

sábado, março 05, 2011

Dan Holguin



Dan Holguin

sexta-feira, março 04, 2011

ken is fifty


Barbie’s Puppet: Armin Morbach for the new Spring/Summer 2011 issue of GQ Style Germany.

quinta-feira, março 03, 2011

Jiří Kylián







Seguidores