Muto by Blu

More stuff by Blu here.

Interlining

...there is enough machine within our eyes
to fill a thousand junkyards full
to make the stone break into plastic clouds
of colored dust
and happy play

...there are enough straight lines that bound a shape
to make us speak right to the point
to get us thinking we are right or wrong
beneath the clouds

See more of Jan Vormann's Dispatchwork here.

Less art

At times it seems the smaller the intervention, the better.
No, I do not mean to follow a minimalistic path, at least not now.
Minimalism, to me, has a lot to do with purity, that is, starting from a point of nothingness and adding just the right touch.
What I'm thinking is more along the lines of accepting the impurity - starting from a point of overwhelming reality and accepting it. Then, the right touch is really just a point of focus, a frame. Was it Oiticica who walked around with his admirers and made art by simply pointing at objects, thus giving them their artness? Still, even this gesture seems like too aggressive, too intrusive. Is it the art-element that makes all tools (all ways of dealing with what appears to us) seem bulky and outdated? Or is it the over-confidence we have when pointing? Isn't this the pleasure of all the YouTubes and darling amateurs? The certainty of some basic form of humbleness?

At times it seems the smaller the intervention, the better.
Yet, I often wonder where does this leave me as an artist. Once I admit a view of some apparently insignificant piece of reality can be a more enriching experience than any work of art, how can I claim anything about my own work, other than the "need" to do it? Doesn't that reveal the horribly narcissistic character of art? But what if I do not want that? If I actually wish to be in harmony with my own tastes? Where does that leave me?
All the above pictures are by Will Simpson at Loshadka, and are part of the You Are Healed series.

(via)

Beirut Melancholy

BEIRUT -Cliquot - From the FLYING CLUB CUP

Of course, of course, no art is ever new. Of course, of course, there is more beauty behind us than we will ever see. Of course, nothing can ever compete with harmony. Yet of course, harmony seems never enough.
Of course, there is a time for mourning, and yet of course, the harmony in the mourning chant outcries the cry.

found here

Sticking to it until you get stuck

I suppose the following is a fair comment to this and to that:


More about The Leave Me Alone Box here.

Hendrik Kerstens: The distant view of the other

Hendrik Kerstens is one of those artists who have managed to develop a career seemingly concentrating on one subject throughout the years. In his case, the model has been his daughter Paula. How different is she as a subject because of being his daughter? Not very. Which is as powerful a revelation as any. After all, one would expect some closeness, some special insight. Nothing of the sort. What we get is a serious young lady, as serious now as she was on the pictures being only a few years old. A gaze that refuses to talk. Our only partner in dialogue seems to be the light that paints the face gently, yet at least on surface, without the love one would expect. We see all the Vermeers and other 17th-century Flemish painters participate in this creation, yet this, here, is darker, less inviting. It doesn't pretend that something can come out of this encounter. Nothing more than a picture, a gaze, a world that is forever there, for us to admire, but not to discover.

Valentine's

I found this at Happy Famous Artists. It was dated February 14. How come this seems fine on Valentine's Day, but has something offensive about it today?
Maybe it's because VD is for the individual, while today is for the group. And so, today it implies that this is the value I find important in a woman. While on February 14, it is about this one individual being gorgeous. Yet, isn't there something disturbing even about this appearing on Valentine's? The fact that what we celebrate is beauty?
Beauty. Can't live with it, but would have a hard time ignoring it either.