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Showing posts from 2014

Claudio, Dutch on the Platz

There's an empty bowl beside Claudio on the bench. He's been here all morning waiting, waiting, waiting. His trouser cuffs are rolled up tight to his calves. His socks are hanging from his side pocket. Behind him is Bruegel’s Hunters in the Snow in a scrolling frame the color of warm morning piss. While the Kentuckians peer over his left shoulder, dog and squirrel at hand. His short cap is muskrat (mostly vole but some lemming too). Dyed royal red at the Herfort near Lac du Platz it smells like damp madder and rancid fat but likely it’s just vinegar rubbed in with some coarse salt and ash. Claudio passes the time humming idly,
The candles are burnt and so are the schools the broom in the muffin the broken Spanish furnace missing the shack get spare the horse is gone but the cow is here the weather is coming to follow the saw my mother son mother son down to the river and under the bridge the windows are far away
Kitty & Patty (from the english to english translation)

idle shadows, loot the frame?

For poetry shaped lids PS and secure cradles but I've been wanting on about breaking things, stuff, and the bunches of bunches of men. I've been making the language that describes impartial fucking lame.
So lets just ask the point. To a bunch'a warm this TREE. When you did, Bee Button Eye,
Bee, Sam Equals
Team Sir

A wager for the 2 emm's in Symmetry, it's like peeling a vowel from the economy

Determining The Weight Of Circumstance (2015) ball of tape, 4 cups of glitter, broken shrimp fork that's been carved from the wood of a shipping pallet

It resembles the river and the river as a theme. Our perception of the river's mirror is like imagining Thoreau reading Margaret Fuller on an open porch. The tools necessary for marking up it's edges are simple, supple, and smooth. The matter of who can define it's value and what the metric of it's qualities are lingers at the edges of contemporary cultural appraisals where they become inextricably intertwined with economics and other boastful stories. These are the things we store inside of an otherwise empty box.

Artists Run Chicago (2009) Hyde Park Art Center, Curated by Allison Peters Quinn and Britton Bertran Dogmatic

His Name Is Not Kimsy, opened to the public as a critique of the Alternative Spaces which were then dissolving after nearly 20 years of service. The primary residents at Dogmatic believed that experimentation and the application of realism in the critique of aesthetic were a necessary means for change. The ordinary architecture of their surroundings provided a textured and nuanced pallet of familiar references for this change to occur. This video footage captures a community of artists gathering for a common celebration in a 2 story residential building. Their achievements are before them. Their shoes are their own. Dogmatic used these simple gestures to convey its grown-up thoughts until their own shoes became too many. - Dogmatic, Robot Love Song (2000) single channel video Justin Flemming shot the footage from the Robot Love Song, a program co-curated with Andy Slater in 2000. This show was the beginning of the Summer Of Jeremy Boyle, a 3 month narrative arc that employed curation …

Stage Set and Work (Laugh In, Meg Duguid)

The dutch door open and someone shouts, Orange pleats are not that traditional. Then the dutch door slaps shut and a surprised voice can be heard, Oops, sorry about that.
There's a woman on a bicycle under the bright white spotlight. She's the one with the pointy knees saying, There's a woman that steps into a river and drowns.
A man rolls out in front of her on his red unicycle and he says, A passerby is overheard asking, has anyone seen the bridge...
A rising curtain reveals a blue desk and there's a dark dark false mustache with a french cap seated behind it. In it's most withering voice the dark dark false mustache instructs, Use the dripping font for this sign.
Finally a wet wet woman in brown mouse ears appears at stage-left with her squeaky voice she reveals, About that thing in the stairwell, it's now over the couch.
Remember to use the code for fun. We'll leave it in the same place as usual.

Honey, I know this is us.

Paper's lost it's crease, cheap pearls and diamond false from teeth. To go, to collapse beneath it's own free weight, to crumple like a bird. Let's call the home desk, we've got a quitter he's sitting right here. The windows so bright as day goes by. Low as the lonely mouth of Satan goes, it's just not the same. Nearly even, parts in the even sky. Deep in the red stream, get me some gothic script for mah generous daddy belly, that's human life to you. We're Not the strongest breeze, the windows not so tall, let's try the door. The bell is broke and stoop is hopeless. Women march alone. "Counting court," she says.
"Let's never once," she knows why, "never ever be stopped along the road and meet a king."
"This can be the way that vanity works." she leans back.
"This is the thing about them kings. Kings are never more, I in the wine," she leans back again, wishing the garbage blue. "Can any…

a pile of leaves, some carved from the papers living edge

Dear, Temperance, October, and Brine,
You are more than a place. So I'll write you from here. You are more than walls and simple chimes. This you'll also know. From here beside a lark's buttered breast. Under the heavy lids and bright side kettle. We'll hum, we'll hum Bunny. Dickens be damned we'll brightly boom. Then you'll know.
For you,

Are more than this room

That old hair song (Template)

That old dime that whispers at night as sublime as Sunday smoke below the awnings green pitch Forget about the water its gone cold forget about the coffee on the stove I'm through with the sun in your hair The shoes of Faust and these bricks Sorted as we are into these piles of must and ain't Cold as the math in your toes Let's find a way. 

Reenacting a Simple Language Barrier (2014) Fuzzy Mice, Twine, English Language Dictionary, 26" Step Ladder

Reenacting a Simple Language Barrier (2014) Fuzzy Mice, Twine, English Language Dictionary, 26" Step Ladder
Appropriately situating the author's voice in any relational text is an important function for the reader. The limitations of their perceptual understanding indicates the furthest edge of the reader's ability to witness and to activate not only complex procedural work but irrational calculations as well. In order to extend these boundaries the reader must first introduce a deeper understanding of context and theoretical analysis,
fig. 1) You've been attacked by the disembodied voice of Donald LaFontaine, In a time of ancient gods, warlords and kings, a land in turmoil cried out for a hero. She was Xena, a mighty princess forged in the heat of battle. The power, the passion, the danger. Her courage will change the world. Saving throw D20 (use the base save plus your ability modifier) twelve and above will succeed (Mountain Dew)

Weirding up ye olde...

Over the hair and under the stag of this day's Boots wet from rain and not so modest but boldsome bold for ruin They're traditional long and better than a new Not so dim in their shirts with Meat in their math with Olde country beer Who's last to this race Who's sitting alone in the corner today flocked grand and grave Found beneath this pigeons limb Those long necked birds long drooping noose No shovel to vote No dry to tinder this offer for poor in the storm Mah neck does ache Mah cuffs don't fit and this stool won't stay in the rain - all the fountains below  

My cart is full but it's my heart that needs free shipping

INSTEAD (at Dogmatic, ca.2006) This is a sketch for a group project, a head on way to deal with the nostalgia of a dead space (or Dogmatic which was soon enough to die). Written with a slightly short hand all of it's words confess an acuity for dumb abruptness. They went one after another just like this on the lined page of a little splotched exam book.
Something more to be said about walking away. Last program at Dogmatic is a walk through audio trip. with no work. only descriptions of the works that these artists did in the space. Last group show is a sound show curated by (John) Wanzel. Floor and walls painted in grids. Instead of, Instead I got this drunken sprawl of self loathing... What was that, fantasies never fart? Oh well.

carry the words that simple, carry the honest like a picture cow

It's possible that we've played here before. Like the Inventionist-Kid in the Iventionist-Boat with all of those Inventionist-Islands by the score. Possible, me in a dark room and the mist of the vale. The torn sheet and the lavender host that lost her way. I recall your dance. You were the spitting image of my son. My possibility being most accurate for the making of unmade duck by way of bury the squirrel. It's what I do. It's what I'm doing now. Liquored and holding, that great-twine promise to send... List List List away all.

Stanley, It's a dark and stormy night, Umper-Kunst

The water's getting there. The truck is keeping it's lights trained on the embankment. A rusted TV aerial is twisted up in the scrub at the base of this dead tree. I keep pulling on the antenna but nothing keeps happening again. Stanley comes over and wipes at his brow in a methodical way that suggests that the action isn't entirely fruitless.
Honest urchin, Stanley raises up his hand. Tom I'll swear it out on a stack of Al's holy's. They're clocks, just like fucking clocks.
I grab my shovel and look the foul tangle over again.
What’s to keep these institutions from forming bigger more aggregated versions of themselves... They're sure as shit gonna buy into each others collections. It won’t be partnering then but it'll be something like it. More like they'll be lashing them collections together until they form one massively cohesive jobber of a snowball. Them umper-kunsts will redistribute all that history however they see fit then. They’ll to…

Salt the pleasures of this tool's reason

Fine fine fine for the wrench of this bird too yet dangerous as blank verse is, Miss Otis regrets nothing birdly hammer or fool...
Let's defy common sense and beg them for more. Let's go to the dance and come home poor. Let's hope to be happened and hung from the line. Let's entertain the rich. Let's math up their time. Let's break all their toy's and say it was love. Let's open their brandy and piss on the rug. Let's seed their garden with salt every night. Let's entertain the rich. Let's put up a fight. 16th Century Blue, Blue Danger, Blue   

doing time in a scheme ladened plan of seduction

That a vicious circle formed from knobby elbows and backwards glances also includes scapegoats old tires and the fat milk from the bottom That Percy Wyndham was denounced as a fraud by Percy Wyndham That the proper weight of a young sparrow is always 3 including it's vest and the typical drinks This is our game and the chance of our math is not to keep us young but we'll learn to spit healthily with good gusto even

Sears, Sears (from where we percieve it a state of being is what it is)

Post Author/Post Author

visiting shortly this place with the quiet

PracticeLittle BerlinSpace1026
I love Philadelphia, wistful, frustrated and still pragmatic. It makes me think of signing my name with my left hand for a day. It makes me happy that empty rooms with people writing in them are called galleries on Saturday. I like frustration that looks like a set of stairs. I like places that smell like fresh history.

Advance notice prior to the apostasy of Mr Vernon Stack

Glamour of the high modern studio

Tonight I found this archive for Ernst Scheidegger. He documented some of European modernism's most provocative elements at work in their studios. When I was a young and curious painter I got my hands on some copies of Arts magazine published in the 50's. One issue in particular featured an article with Giacometti. In the photo spread he's smoking cigarettes and pointing at things in his studio in France in Paris. The place is entirely covered in shit that's been scrapped from his paintings and sculptures. In my twenties this was impressive. Seeing all of that chaos and the tension left so ambivalently in the corners of his space served as a spectacular illustration for my own modern life.
I remembered those photo's recently while I was reading through M.J.J. and M.G.'s, The Studio Reader. In particular it was the essay by R.S. He was writing marvelously about Dekooning and the studio that he had had constructed for himself in the space of the then new Not-In…

The Visual Language Or Your Rainbow Is Standing On Top Of My My My Rainbow

This Leopard relief was created by the people of Çatalhöyük. An ancient pre-historical culture that existed in present day Turkey at the very cusp of the agricultural sciences. Their proto-city was a mass of simple jumbled boxes that utilized the horizontal space of the roof as both public throughway and plaza. Doorways in the settlement tended to be few, low and interior. In this way the construction and demolition of Çatalhöyük was likely ongoing from 7,500 BCE through 5,700 BCE. It resulted in a 20 meter mound facing the Konya Plain. The importance of hunting and agriculture on the social mechanisms and personal lives of the residents of Çatalhöyük is very much unknown. What is known is that the patterns on these leopards is really fascinating. Combined with the marks used to identify the claws this image with it's low relief becomes practically animated. The play at liveliness by elevating simple contrasting elements is clearly an ancient visual strategy. When put in…

ITS A RIP OFF sister little