Perhaps everything changes in the nature of our philosophical questions, in the nature of the aims and ends that might animate us, when the future dies. We need not think this extinction of the future in terms of Brassier’s crushing thought of the extinction of the universe due to heat death as the outcome of […]
via The Extinction of the Future — Larval Subjects .
I must have half a dozen posts on this. I was wondering if anyone else felt this way. Here are links to three of them.
Posterity: Art and the Artist in a post-capitalist world
The Malevolent Desire for Recognition
Eight hours to get everything up. I was running out of wall space. Have to go back in the morning to finish putting the labels up, matching them to the art. I lost count, but close to 80 pieces of art in this one room. Not counting the street sketches. Here’s photos of this effort in progress.
View GALLERY HERE.
Preparing for the A-Space show–giving a lot of thought to how I want to organize it. My work tends to migrate toward these broad, thematic areas–I hope to make this clear in my arrangements. I want to help people see what I’m doing, without overcoded interpretations.
Color exercises: watercolor or acrylic in inverted pairs– tone and colors (dark to light, light to dark): hue to complimentary hue (opposites on color wheel). Playing with color, like musical variations on a canon.
A new series in progress: from Plein Air street sketches to finished work, acrylics, assemblages & other media. Only 3, maybe 4 finished so far, but will tape the sketches to the wall around them to show the relationships.
Series in several mediums, drawing on patterns and textures of pavement and streets.
RHIZOMATICS! Cells, Maps, Words
The first art I got paid for was in a class on comparative embryology; Professor paid me for crow quill pen and inks–microscopic slides of chick embryos. This is a Series in several mediums, inspired by photos in an histology text book. Free renditions, patterns and lines of communication— in no way meant to be biologically accurate illustrations! There’s a visual affinity for me between these and MAPS, and WORDS.
Arrangements of Found Things, street trash, dirt, broken glass—the detritus of Late Capitalism—discarded identities in search of new relationships.
Human Arboreal Intercourse
I don’t work from an abstract concept of the theme… more something that develops from a primarily visual interest.
There may be crossovers for any of these.
I must have deleted photos of these. I painted them on weathered plywood salvaged from repairs on the neighbor’s porch roof. #376, 377, 378, 379, 380
#376 66″ x 25″ Acrylic on plywood
#377 64″ x 26″ Acrylic on Plywood
#378 29″ x 48″ Acrylic on Plywood
#379 66″ x 22″ Acrylic on plywood, with canvas strips and leaves
#380 72″ x 28″ Acrylic, Oil crayon on Plywood and cardboard. “No gods No leaders No bosses!”
When we think of the war machine, the focus tends to be on the horrors of war itself, on the cost to social programs when so much of the national budget goes to military and arms makers, of our treatment of veterans… but these are only parts of the machine, and not the machine itself
When you see the figures for contributions to candidates and political representatives, the larger structure begins to emerge. Isn’t this the very heart of 21st C. neoliberal/fascism–that the war machine has become the real owner of the State, that the oligarchs we want to see as our owners and rulers, have themselves lost power over the War Machine–that to maintain their wealth and the illusion of influence, they are free only to act as operatives of and for the War Machine?
… a machine that has no goal but increasing destruction–of everything subordinate to it, until there is nothing left to destroy but itself… and all human life with it?
In the long run, all the Presidential candidates, are servants of the War Machine. There is no hope for survival, or significant change, within the orders of established power. We need to find the fissures in the walls, the cracks in the foundation, to build in spaces still invisible to The Machine–alternative lives, organizations and relationships in what, from within the orders of power, are but figments of the Unreal. Microspaces of imagination, resistance and love.
22″ x 16″ Garden of Love. Acrylic on Masonite.
View GALLERY HERE.
I went to the Garden of Love
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of his Chapel were shut
And Thou Shalt Not writ over the door;
So I turn’d to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore.
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones were flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys and desires.
William Blake, Songs of Experience