Archive for May, 2013

May 31, 2013

void-dance:

the history of a tough motherfucker

he came to the door one night wet thin beaten and
terrorized
a white cross-eyed tailless cat
I took him in and fed him and he stayed
grew to trust me until a friend drove up the driveway
and ran him over
I took what was left to a vet who said, “not much
chance…give him these pills…his backbone
is crushed, but it was crushed before and somehow
mended, if he lives he’ll never walk, look at
these x-rays, he’s been shot, look here, the pellets
are still there…also, he once had a tail, somebody
cut it off…”

I took the cat back, it was a hot summer, one of the
hottest in decades, I put him on the bathroom
floor, gave him water and pills, he wouldn’t eat, he
wouldn’t touch the water, I dipped my finger into it
and wet his mouth and I talked to him, I didn’t go any-
where, I put in a lot of bathroom time and talked to
him and gently touched him and he looked back at
me with those pale blue crossed eyes and as the days went
by he made his first move
dragging himself forward by his front legs
(the rear ones wouldn’t work)
he made it to the litter box
crawled over and in,
it was like the trumpet of possible victory
blowing in that bathroom and into the city, I
related to that cat – I’d had it bad, not that
bad but bad enough…

one morning he got up, stood up, fell back down and
just looked at me.

“you can make it,” I said to him.

he kept trying, getting up falling down, finally
he walked a few steps, he was like a drunk, the
rear legs just didn’t want to do it and he fell again, rested,
then got up.

you know the rest: now he’s better than ever, cross-eyed
almost toothless, but the grace is back, and that look in
his eyes never left…

and now sometimes I’m interviewed, they want to hear about
life and literature and I get drunk and hold up my cross-eyed,
shot, runover de-tailed cat and I say, “look, look
at this!”

but they don’t understand, they say something like, “you
say you’ve been influenced by Céline?”

“no,” I hold the cat up, “by what happens, by
things like this, by this, by this!”

I shake the cat, hold him up in

the smoky and drunken light, he’s relaxed he knows…

it’s then that the interviews end
although I am proud sometimes when I see the pictures
later and there I am and there is the cat and we are photo-
graphed together.

he too knows it’s bullshit but that somehow it all helps

Charles Bukowski

War All the Time (1984)


via:demo:abi

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May 31, 2013

void-dance:

the history of a tough motherfucker

he came to the door one night wet thin beaten and
terrorized
a white cross-eyed tailless cat
I took him in and fed him and he stayed
grew to trust me until a friend drove up the driveway
and ran him over
I took what was left to a vet who said, “not much
chance…give him these pills…his backbone
is crushed, but it was crushed before and somehow
mended, if he lives he’ll never walk, look at
these x-rays, he’s been shot, look here, the pellets
are still there…also, he once had a tail, somebody
cut it off…”

I took the cat back, it was a hot summer, one of the
hottest in decades, I put him on the bathroom
floor, gave him water and pills, he wouldn’t eat, he
wouldn’t touch the water, I dipped my finger into it
and wet his mouth and I talked to him, I didn’t go any-
where, I put in a lot of bathroom time and talked to
him and gently touched him and he looked back at
me with those pale blue crossed eyes and as the days went
by he made his first move
dragging himself forward by his front legs
(the rear ones wouldn’t work)
he made it to the litter box
crawled over and in,
it was like the trumpet of possible victory
blowing in that bathroom and into the city, I
related to that cat – I’d had it bad, not that
bad but bad enough…

one morning he got up, stood up, fell back down and
just looked at me.

“you can make it,” I said to him.

he kept trying, getting up falling down, finally
he walked a few steps, he was like a drunk, the
rear legs just didn’t want to do it and he fell again, rested,
then got up.

you know the rest: now he’s better than ever, cross-eyed
almost toothless, but the grace is back, and that look in
his eyes never left…

and now sometimes I’m interviewed, they want to hear about
life and literature and I get drunk and hold up my cross-eyed,
shot, runover de-tailed cat and I say, “look, look
at this!”

but they don’t understand, they say something like, “you
say you’ve been influenced by Céline?”

“no,” I hold the cat up, “by what happens, by
things like this, by this, by this!”

I shake the cat, hold him up in

the smoky and drunken light, he’s relaxed he knows…

it’s then that the interviews end
although I am proud sometimes when I see the pictures
later and there I am and there is the cat and we are photo-
graphed together.

he too knows it’s bullshit but that somehow it all helps

Charles Bukowski

War All the Time (1984)


via:demo:abi

May 31, 2013

cleonique:

“New Soul”
Mixed Media

Created for Genome’s exhibition “Robot Apocalypse”
The painting has been sold.

Website l Shop


via:demo:abi

May 31, 2013

cleonique:

“New Soul”
Mixed Media

Created for Genome’s exhibition “Robot Apocalypse”
The painting has been sold.

Website l Shop


via:demo:abi

May 30, 2013

nevver:

Paris


via:demo:abi

May 28, 2013


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May 28, 2013

artpedia:

Bill Henson – From the series ‘Paris Opera Project’, 1990-91. Type C-photographs

In 1990, Henson was commissioned by the Paris Opera to produce a series of artworks that could be displayed at the Opera. The series features his signature portraiture style of close-up portraits and long distance landscapes. Using Rembrandt’s style and chiaroscuro lighting, which has been a strong influence in his work. The subject matter in this body of work are a contrast between portraiture and nocturnal long distance landscapes. The various pairing of people in this body of work in an apparent grand setting left the viewer to interpret a range of possible meanings. Henson said he wanted to capture “a group of people gathered together in a dark place awaiting some special event”.


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May 28, 2013

museumuesum:

Ai Weiwei

S.A.C.R.E.D, 2011-2013

Fiberglass, acrylic paint, iron

Dioramas reconstructing scenes from Mr. Ai Weiwei’s illegal detention in China in 2011, when he was held for 81 days in a secret prison guarded by a paramilitary unit. Six fiberglass dioramas depict, at half-scale, his often banal daily existence as a captive of the vast government security apparatus.

photographs by Cristiano Bendinelli for The New York Times.


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May 27, 2013

“Their lips brushed like young wild flowers in the wind.”

F. Scott Fitzgerald   (via thatkindofwoman)
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May 27, 2013

I’m getting there, I’m getting there…


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