tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14315478061103808532024-02-06T19:02:55.930-08:00Diversity of Desiremiss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-15021837315125640932010-10-13T18:47:00.000-07:002010-10-13T18:50:03.909-07:00The sublimeI declare an end to the sublime. It's a bourgeois and escapist concept. I meant it when I said that we should just get over it. It had its share. It is over. Especially in connection to religion and nature. It signifies nothing else but nostalgia. I don't want to spend any more time thinking about it. And how to embedd it/not in my practice. I will also not integrate it in my common use of language. Neither in English–That's sublime, dude!–nor in German–Oida, des is erhaben!–not even in an ironic way.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-88777611538886524412010-09-27T20:10:00.000-07:002010-09-27T20:12:19.056-07:00inverted fall miragean autumn heatwave is hitting los angeles. today it had 108 degrees fahrenheit–that is 42.2 in celsius, leute!–and it hasn't been this hot since 1877.<br />
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and governor schwarzenegger postponed an execution by 48 hours.<br />
but I guess this was not due to the heat.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-1008345256374879012010-08-29T14:58:00.000-07:002010-08-29T15:16:31.837-07:00nachschlag, nachtrag, exercise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZjXbtoIEozoWMprUTjPacJZUw3tiiw8vabM_f1_aiw9TizCVmacCycIhCsvlTI_5yiEuPYW9DDhchLth-EUzvFd6J-5KCAuea09GQSFiuCA5TiSDbC3Yklk_WSkGD1tWHp61L1EP4SM/s1600/IMG_3659.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZjXbtoIEozoWMprUTjPacJZUw3tiiw8vabM_f1_aiw9TizCVmacCycIhCsvlTI_5yiEuPYW9DDhchLth-EUzvFd6J-5KCAuea09GQSFiuCA5TiSDbC3Yklk_WSkGD1tWHp61L1EP4SM/s320/IMG_3659.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b>Schleis, 25. Juli, 2010</b><br />
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Ein Gesicht wie Samuel Beckett. Zwei Spazierstöcke, ein schwarzer Anzug. 'Pfiat eich.' Pfiat di.' Oder doch dunkles Blau? Eine Brille mit Goldrand, braun getönte Gläser, ein ebenfalls dunkler Anzug, eine Krawatte mit diagonal verlaufenden Streifen in gelb und dunkelbraun. 'Pfiat eich,' 'Pfiat di.' Der dunkelbraune Kleinbus fährt vor und hält vor der Infotafel, die leicht für eine Bushaltestelle gehalten werden könnte. Er hält am Dorfplatz, der keiner ist, sondern eine Straßenkreuzung gegenüber vom Gasthof. Der richtige Dorfplatz wird wohl weiter hinten im Dorf sein, bei der Kirche, gegenüber vom zweiten Gasthof, vom Kirchenwirt.<br />
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Eine hölzerne Tafel, zusammengezimmert aus Brettern, vermutlich Lärche–davon gibt's ja hier genug,–nur wetter- und wind-behandelt, oder 'gegerbt,' wie es heisst, und desshalb ganz grau, hellgrau, und zwischen den Brettern tun sich Spalten auf, und die Astlöcher sind längst herausgefallen. Das Holz 'arbeitet,' wie man sagt, oder es hat gearbeitet, aber es geht ja wohl nie in Pension das Holz, es arbeitet und arbeitet. Eine Bank davor, aus Holz, städtisch beinahe, Eisenfüsse, ein Querbalken als Rückenteil der mit Schwung in den Sitzteil übergeht, wie aus einem Stück gegossen, wie man sagt, nur dass Holz nicht gegossen wird. Wäre aber schön. Über der Tafel jedenfalls ein Aufsatz, ein Brett mit Bemalung–unvollendet wie jene am Haus dahinter–und links und rechts zwei Kapitälchen schön gedrechselt. Woher kommt bloss dieser Gestaltungswille? Aus der Umgebung? Vom Holzkreuz, das viel weiter links hängt, und alt zu sein scheint? Sehr alt, ganz einfach ein Kreuz mit Gekreuzigtem drauf, nicht viel mehr und auch nicht weniger, so viel muss schon sein.<br />
Ein anderer Kleinbus hält, silbergrau, deutsches Kennzeichen. Das passiert hier öfter, es ist nicht wirklich der Dorfplatz ,aber eine der wenigen Stellen im Dorf, die fast vierspurig sind. Wo im Dorf Platz ist, muss damit gerechnet werden, dass er genutzt wird. Denn das Dorf ist eng, das Tal ist schmal, die Felswände, die es umgeben, sind steil abfallend. Die engen Täler sind für einspurige Zufahrtswege geeignet, die sich öffnende Talsohle für Wiesen und Obstbau. Oder beides. Das Dorf liegt am Rande der breiten Talsohle und noch nicht ganz in der Klamm, aber im Schatten.<br />
Rechts an der Holztafel ist eine Zeitungstasche angenietet. Ein Fremdkörper, Z am Sonntag, kostet einen Euro, den hoffentlich niemand zahlt, wenn die Tasche schon offen ist. Wer solche Systeme benutzt, muss damit rechnen, bestohlen zu werden. Auf der Tafel selbst, mit Reissnägeln angebracht, ein Plakat für 'Xong,' ein Musikfestival, alternative Volksmusik im Dreiländereck, blauviolett mit schwarzer Schrift. Daneben Ankündigungen für den 11. Reschenlauf, ein Zeltfest und schliesslich der Busfahrplan.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-89998708872634930762010-08-23T18:22:00.000-07:002010-08-25T21:07:46.891-07:00Achtung! Achtung! This is a transmission by the IAEI!<div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtKu-0mpSY9YIpGR5J29rlxH9u0_8TL7vriu9tYvqYFoZujMAtpOSW7sRszHxM2ivt2wyJe8LGP4Gp-7fLLhJdrNHdK3wFbOovAOoJ6oFEUmth4ZCwAm42JhcAlbyBvwGHkrI8IL9FPeU/s320/lengizBooks.jpg" width="320" /></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The Department for the Diversity of Desire was found in 2009 to bundle creative thoughts and actions. For those who are easily distracted by an ever increasing audi-visual landscape where hi is next to low and avant stuck behind garde and everything sampled and mixed and mashed together into something yet to be named. For those who cannot focus on one academic discipline or on one cultural phenomenon, who get excited by the pure thought of formulating a new theory, of connecting images and words and thoughts that haven't been related before. For those who never get to the point of formulating a consistent line of argumentation because there are thousands and thousands of plateaus and things to research and photograph and think on the way there. For those who are full of contradictions and inconsistencies but can live with them quite happily, who know everything a little bit but nothing completely but know whom to ask about it. Here is the Department for the Diversity of Desire. and it is for you.<br />
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p.s.: of course the department is for correct labeling (and it's ach so passend): A. Rodchenko, Lengiz Books On Every Subject, 1925.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-68825252471758683562010-07-17T08:27:00.000-07:002011-05-09T20:22:18.551-07:00Der Nachschlag<i>Bertolt Brecht</i><br />
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Meine Sätze spreche ich, bevor<br />
I speak my sentences, before<br />
Der Zuschauer sie hört; was er hört, wird<br />
The viewer can hear them; what he hears, will be<br />
Ein Vergangenes sein.<br />
Something past. <br />
Jedes Wort, das die Lippe verlässt<br />
Every word falling from his lips <br />
Beschreibe einen Bogen und fällt<br />
Is going to describe a curve and then falls <br />
Dann ins Ohr des Hörers, ich warte und höre<br />
Into the listener's ear, I wait and listen <br />
Wie es aufschlägt, ich weiss<br />
How it strikes, I know <br />
Wir empfinden nicht das nämliche und<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">We do not feel the particular</div>Wir empfinden nicht gleichzeitig.<br />
We do not feel the same.<br />
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(aus: <i>Gedichte 1941-1947</i>)miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-63159441951936644082010-07-17T07:11:00.000-07:002010-07-17T13:56:47.460-07:00reports from Vienna, # 5, 96.8 degrees fahrenheit<div style="text-align: left;">... is 36 degrees celsius, there were thunderstorms yesterday and today. still hot. and humid. and though it is not the first time that it was this hot in the city–actually I remember quite a few summers in the past 15 years that were equally hot–there is always a collective amnesia about it during the rest of the year. the same with the first snow in winter. or mosquitos. this year it also hit me as I was pondering air-conditioners and forgot about simple ideas: the fan and the fan.</div>awaiting the next thunderstorms that should bring crisper weather, I recall places and things that have helped through the Viennese heatwave: air-conditioned are: public buses–not the metro,–flower shops, some museums–not simple exhibition halls, unless they are underground, or artists' associations, little black boxes for displaying video art are extremely dangerous!!–ice-cream/gelato parlors, expensive restaurants, butcher shops. you can never expect shops and museums to be air-conditioned. my favorite thing right now is to open the fridge and stick my head in, I place my facial spritzes and my lotions in the fridge (old trick), I sit at the table (while I am typing, yes) with my feet in a bucket with cold water, I sleep with open windows and doors, public pools are nice, when they are not in the sun. yesterday two men, 21 and 55, died of a heart attack in the Moskow metro, it is equally hot there. the continental climate seems to be even harsher than the desert climate. we are so close to Russia. I cannot post anything more challenging than this and a cute slide show. the dog is alive. all the theoretic concepts blur into each other and in a delirious mirage about this city, its art world and its museum-directors. I have to stick my head in the fridge again. there I find a kinder-bueno and a strawberry-banana smoothie. the storm is coming ...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center; width: 480px;"><embed height="360" src="http://w60.photobucket.com/pbwidget.swf?pbwurl=http%3A%2F%2Fw60.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fh13%2Fc_slanar%2F1ba664e5.pbw" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="480" wmode="transparent"></embed><a href="http://photobucket.com/slideshows" target="_blank"><img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/slideshows/btn.gif" style="border-width: 0pt; float: left;" /></a><a href="http://s60.photobucket.com/albums/h13/c_slanar/?action=view&current=1ba664e5.pbw" target="_blank"><img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/slideshows/btn_viewallimages.gif" style="border-width: 0pt; float: left;" /></a></div>miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-76238701103308296722010-07-14T01:53:00.000-07:002010-07-17T07:15:07.978-07:00reports from Vienna, # 4, Facades<div style="text-align: left; width: 480px;">simplicity, horizontal layers, very reduced ornamentation, subtle logos and typos (sometimes almost invisible as in the case of the bakery). one could call that snobbish–as the subtlety is sometimes not too inviting–, ascetic, distant. the Apollonian. modern. this is definitely not <a href="http://mitpress.mit.edu/catalog/item/default.asp?ttype=2&tid=3723">learned from Las Vegas</a>, but this is the first district and somewhere else you get a different picture ...</div><div style="text-align: left; width: 480px;"></div><div style="text-align: center; width: 480px;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><embed height="360" src="http://w60.photobucket.com/pbwidget.swf?pbwurl=http%3A%2F%2Fw60.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fh13%2Fc_slanar%2Ffassaden+wien%2F17dd5484.pbw" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="480" wmode="transparent"></embed><a href="http://photobucket.com/slideshows" target="_blank"><img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/slideshows/btn.gif" style="border-width: 0pt; float: left;" /></a><a href="http://s60.photobucket.com/albums/h13/c_slanar/fassaden%20wien/?action=view&current=17dd5484.pbw" target="_blank"><img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/slideshows/btn_viewallimages.gif" style="border-width: 0pt; float: left;" /></a></div></div>miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-18527775075117797762010-06-30T10:55:00.000-07:002010-07-05T04:37:12.178-07:00reports from Vienna, # 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZjSqD8r9GObvnfX8Ww8zDj4upQ39xXGAqECQBf4B8NQ_SR-KZqMqL3faVItRj2TYvtw2aILh2VY_VbVAwcM7i1k7mr0t-fUUuzwGGw7hU01WpA1Q38Mc2Rk4SJarbvG9keKuVWb_REis/s1600/IMG_mak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZjSqD8r9GObvnfX8Ww8zDj4upQ39xXGAqECQBf4B8NQ_SR-KZqMqL3faVItRj2TYvtw2aILh2VY_VbVAwcM7i1k7mr0t-fUUuzwGGw7hU01WpA1Q38Mc2Rk4SJarbvG9keKuVWb_REis/s320/IMG_mak.jpg" /></a></div>My friend Georgia gave an introduction to this <a href="http://www.schwarzwaelder.at/galeriedt/mainakt.htm">exhibition</a>: young artist, renowned gallery, bad website, no images of current works on display ... I like Christoph Weber's <a href="http://www.artnet.de/Galleries/Artwork_Detail.asp?G=&gid=115473&cid=198484&which=&aid=&wid=426063862&source=exhibitions&rta=http://www.artnet.de">"loose concrete"</a>. You get the announced–it is what it is as Frank Stella once said–and there is more: loose concrete, shaped into blocks and "painted"with water, solid blocks of concrete, broken into two halves–spare your poetic yin-yang-associations, they look more like unfinished, earthquake-shaken construction works–and then also: clay; blocks of clay with images scratched into it, large sculptures with patches of clay thrown on a solid form and into a frame. It looks like clay-flowers on strange steles, grouped together, and again scratched images hidden in white boxes that the visitors have to open. Material, techniques are paradigmatic for sculpture and its history. but also like a reminder of how children use sand and clay (and less concrete I guess) to build things: make it wet, so it sticks together. then let it dry, paint patterns with water on it, and finally throw it at each other. but only when still wet, so it sticks better to shirts and pants. <br />
<a name='more'></a>aspects of playfulness? one way of interpretation without too much thinking what it is "about." Without asking if intertwined aesthetics and politics are acted out in these forms. Playfulness in terms of performativity and the processual signified through clay that still looks wet as well as images of wet concrete that will fade when having dried after a while. Unfortunately the images will be watered/sprayed again during the time of the exhibition, and, as a visitor incidentally destroys the corners of one of the loose concrete floor pieces at the opening, everyone is shocked. I think it is a really beautiful translation. What if not fading images and loose corners can translate the processual into the ephemeral that we as audience can relate to?<br />
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The horizontal sculptures of Carl Andre and of other minimalist/post-minimalist artists are said to criticize verticality signifying a human/man centered Weltbild (Image of the world? world view? system? lame translations!) built around the Western European ideas of reason and enlightenment. The one-year old son of Judith and Georg, though able to stand up, still prefers to crawl around in their apartment. that means: sometimes he hits his head because the field of vision is a bit limited, and sometimes he tries the cat food, because the cat is his closest point of reference. "Anyone remembering the mirror stage? Up and coming," I say to Judith. The cat is not impressed. She is old and screams a lot to reassure herself that she is still part of this world.<br />
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Some of contemporary sculptures are not only signifying material and process, and non-mastery, and the history of the medium, but they are also NOT allusions, and allegories–or maybe they are allegories without even knowing? Chris Kraus writes, ironically I think, that artworks in the late 1990s, early 2000s are never about something and to ask this question is almost an insult. But these concrete sculptures in the gallery are about something, and about something else, they are not referential, they are not primarily signifying the content, but there is "content," and content and form are supposed to go together in an almost modernist tradition. Strange enough I don't want to know too much about the content. That there is a specific story linked to every sculpture, every image, that these images are about a certain political conflict. This one and not the other. This aspect of the artist's biography he doesn't want anyone to mention. It is not about this aspect, but it would point to the content. To the political conflict. And without it? A dilemma. too personal. not political anymore?<br />
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I am reading Chris Kraus' "Video Green" now, about the art/world and Kraus' time in Los Angeles, from the mid-1990s to about 2002 (???). It is fascinating how much changed, it is frightening how much stayed the same. Some CalArtian references here and there (was she a regular when Dick Hebdige was dean of critical studies? Is this a strange question?) ... her approach is unpretentious, provocative, sometimes a bit too sarcastic; interweaving work/exhibition observations/descriptions with very personal stories; cultural criticism that finds too much fashionable theory-infused art talk boring. Point taken. I see some parallels and I have to remind myself that probably not every story is a true one. But again: who cares? I like her persona.<br />
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Image: LaaKronen/macaroons in Zitrone, Himbeer, Kaffee, Schokolade auf Couchtisch, Jesuspatschn' aus Griechenland.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-43348034788259061832010-06-30T08:30:00.000-07:002010-06-30T15:48:19.770-07:00reports from Vienna, # 2<a href="http://tuesdays1530.tumblr.com/">Natascha Unkart's and Tanya Traboulsi's photoblog here</a><br />
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<a href="http://tuesdays1530.tumblr.com/"></a>miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-59253056326963634702010-06-29T16:45:00.000-07:002010-07-02T04:14:03.405-07:00reports from Vienna, # 1<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Times; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span>At Heathrow airport, my first touch down in Europe (though the Brits would see this a bit different), it takes time until I hear the first German words–about the world soccer cup, football, Fußball as we call it–it is German German, not this slouchy Viennese or the Austrian Midwestern that is Upper Austrian. I can’t remember what this voice said about the game but it is significant for what is going to happen during the following weeks.<br />
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I am surprised by the narrow Austrian roads, the tiny cars, the lush, green landscape–it has been raining for weeks I am told, and now it is the first sunny day in a while, everyone emerges from a state of late hibernation and depression but the unfriendliness that is all around (and that I am going to encounter when dealing with by bank account the next day) is not due to this but obviously a state of mind, some state of mind.<br />
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The character of the traffic, pedestrians, bikes, cars, trans, buses–everywhere!!–the narrow roads is still surprising and scary. I remember how I got used to it within days after my return last year, but now it seems to stay on a disproportional level. I have adopted to a different kind of scale–even a little bit to a system that is not metric–a system, a scale that feels different, that allows for much more personal space than anywhere else which is understandable considered the amount of space actually available on a continent, in a country. Still it is surprising how a sensory system can adapt to something that is so decisive for the formation of identity.<br />
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I am also overwhelmed by the crowd of people watching the football games in public, or semi-public space, or at least at open air screenings. Something it is easy to confuse this in this city. The screenings take place on gigantic screens that are either part of cafes or bars in a park or in an area near the Wienfluß (Vienna river) that runs through the city center and has been revitalized only within the past five years (with two exceptions)–this means in Austrian terms: get a lot of bars/restaurants there, start small with a couple of hipster Szene-things, then the early adopters and the rest of the crowd follows until it gets unstoppable, uncontrollable, finally a segregation between cool and the rest is taking place and that’s it. Basta. the masterplan (if there has been one once) is not recognizable any more and everyone is following the same concept that is merrily supported by the Viennese city authorities. This is called private-public partnership.<br />
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(For the background, non phenomenological info on this I can thank the weekly magazine Falter that just published an article about the connections between gastronomy and city authorities. The Falter is kind of the LA weekly of Vienna, but it is not for free. This results in less or no ads for any kind of private service or gentlemen’s entertainment (always fun). And I am surprised that, when I turn the magazine, that there is no half-naked American Apparel ass smiling at me but an ad for an I-phone substitute, the smart phone, and a phone provider. The Falter is the leftist weekly magazine and feels incredibly tame or everything is just so fine and nice here. In Vienna.)<br />
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There are other real public screens sponsored by the city, at some famous Ringstraßen-buildings: at the city hall/Rathaus, I think, an operafestival, at the opera/Staatsoper there is a concert festival, two open-air movie theaters are situated in a park and at Karlsplatz. We have a "new" tradition of public screenings. Somehow the movies, cinema, is brought back to its origins: a mass audience, at a fair or an amusement park environment . The city is like a gigantic amusement park at this time of the year anyway. An amusement park, a gigantic theme park, that seems to be for free, the methods of exclusion, the rituals of entry/payment/credibility are quite subtle–with a few exceptions, but people don’t seem to care about it. The surplus, its unique selling proposition is its history; compared to any other theme park, its history guarantees the authenticity of this place, its functioning as a palimpsest that has more layers than we can imagine. <br />
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The screen at the side of the opera is gigantic and shows concerts. When I pass by I see the omnipresent crowd of people just looking up and staring somewhere, at a point/screen/thing that is not visible to me yet. They stand around a pavilion that sells tickets for the opera. It’s too early in the evening and still too light for the screening and so every time the camera zooms in the image of players, I see a mixture of brown, flesh-tones, black white and brown wooden-tones. When it zooms back I see a bunch of violin virtuosos. <br />
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What is so fascinating about these screenings? The atmosphere, the community, the common experience, being excited and jumping up with a crowd if a team scores. As long as there is food and drinks I assure myself that people don’t get violent. But I don’t know. The atmosphere has something scary, I already left two screenings during the games. <br />
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I tell my mom that I am not used to this kind of crowds anymore as it is easy to avoid them in Los Angeles. There is basically no public space for these gatherings (except the staples center), there is no public space. I know, I know, the old story. My mom says, Los Angeles is a village. She is right. I think it doesn’t make sense to analyze the city in terms of a city anymore, or the “postmodern” city, the “sprawl”, the “mega-city,” the whatever-city, but to analyze the village-like character of this city: what are its terms, the structures that make it a village and how do these function together? I want to see this conceptualized! I want a theory that acknowledges this! Finally. It is a pre-city structure that we have to deal with, people probably never wanted to have a city here–not to speak about a European model of a city–but just an agglomeration of settlements, not 10 stories high, but manageable. With an observatory representing the master gaze. and its ball(s).miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-36027775989050910772010-06-02T23:56:00.000-07:002010-06-03T00:43:45.657-07:00homeis a poem like Elfriede Gerstl's Nachtkastl, a Gulaschreindl and a Staubfetzn, home is the pink of Aida and the brown of a Punschkrapferl's innards, and is not everyone who knows about this joke. home is a loft now. oh.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-85277893854897734002010-06-02T23:24:00.000-07:002010-06-02T23:36:35.287-07:002 years ago I wrote<span style="font-weight: bold;">What I Have To Do Before I Leave</span><br />tell people that I love them<br />ask important questions<br />tell people to come and visit<br />spend money<br />spend more money<br />learn to love cooking<br />learn to pack light<br />learn to embrace the moment<br />think about the future<br />learn not to think about the future<br />learn how to stick to deadlines<br />learn the concept of deadlines<br />learn about logistics<br />get good loudspeakers<br />stick to my ideas<br />stick to my plans<br />(even though they seem pretty nebulous now)<br />forget people whom I hate<br />remember not to forget all the others<br />learn how to plant a tree<br />improve my french<br />not to forget my pocket oxford dictionary<br />not to forget to take spanish lessons<br />not to stop writing<br />not to forget to take bollywood dancing classes<br />start building an archive for my ideas<br />remember not to neglect their order<br />not to forget to form a band and make a film.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-9053660530107922952010-06-02T21:20:00.000-07:002010-07-02T03:18:54.199-07:00random notes on music/spacethe foremost question has to be: why should there be concerts anymore? why would we want to see somebody/something LIVE? and pay for it? these are random notes I took at two different concert venues in los angeles:<br />
1)<br />
the conventional space for a traditional concert and how to subvert it ...<br />
-why is the laptop on a music stand?<br />
the reality of an outside gets into the loft (with white walls) through an open window. the sound of a helicopter. the first row of the audience (the listeners, the spectators) already lies on the floor. they fell like dominoes and I wait for the next to fall. I suspect this will be a men as there are far more than women among the audience.<br />
-what category is sound volume? what if I think that this piece could easily be much louder?<br />
a train signal! and some real-time projections/visuals.<br />
-why does everyone when listening carefully/closely look up? (this has to be revised as in another space almost everyone looked down). the traditional configuration, the separation between stage and auditorium, performers and audience still remains. and precisely because of the slow development of the piece and its intended silence everyone moves only very cautiously.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
-should tonal vibrations be mirrored in bodily movements of the audience?<br />
a change in my position that happened by chance (this piece is long, I have to change the way I sit) opens up the richness of the sound as it changes when I move my head from left to right and back and teeter back and forth with my upper body.<br />
-why do so many composers/performers seem to forget that their pieces change with actual movements of the audience? that it is more than an audio(visual) event but a sensory one that involves exactly more than one (or two) senses?<br />
-how do they (within a stream of sound and silence and quietness and slow development and non-development) define a beginning and an end? Is this important anymore? What if one misses both? The gestures stay the same, the positions stay the same. I want the inside out and the outside in. underneath the overpass.<br />
I dream of a piece of stage-set or furniture or framework or spatial configuration, or even two: one for the performers where they are forced to give up their usual positions and one for the listeners where they have to change their position. not constantly, it's not a gym class, but sometimes ...<br />
<br />
set up categories:<br />
- composer(s), piece, performer(s), audience, space<br />
- different states of reception/perception/listening<br />
- a triangle<br />
- states: passive, active, in/out, constant, attentive, immersed, psychically, physically,<br />
- the spatial setting and the location of the fourth wall in particular, define whether we speak about a 'performance,' an 'installation,' or a 'concert,' and their different approaches to interactivity (this term is actually my 'red flag', but this is another story soon to be posted...)<br />
<br />
2)<br />
people listen attentively, then they delve into music/sound, get immersed and probably absorbed in it. it is (not almost) like stages of meditation or at least this is my interpretation. is this the only form of art where immersion is always something good and marks a stage that has to be reached? what if I don't get immersed, will I get bored then, is it ok to drift in and out of a piece?<br />
there are obviously certain gestures and postures that support this phases (especially when sitting on the floor): chin in your hand, hands in your lap, looking downwards, eyes closed. it is indistinguishable then if somebody is asleep or absorbed in listening. how can these slouchy positions be regarded as attentive? the looks range from bored (cultivated ennui sounds much better) to serious and sad. nobody laughs this evening. I am too distracted to sit still, so I smile and stretch, and tapp with my feet to a non-existing beat (it was a drone-piece), get fascinated by the violin players, holding their notes and overtones, playing a duet, a ping-pong-piece, standing in the middle of the left and right wall of the gallery space. we, the audience, sit between and (almost) around them on the floor and at the corner of the little white stage that was set up. the area right behind the entrance and around the reception desk (why? why there?) is crowded like the kitchen/the bathroom/wherever the booze is ... during a party.<br />
the laptop-musician takes the stage. does he have to because of how the speakers are directed or is he afraid of getting lost in the crowd? very 90s, I say to my friends.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-92152383889155769882010-04-25T21:09:00.000-07:002010-04-25T21:18:21.739-07:00spring in Vienna II (Linz)"bin im funkelnagelneuen park inn hotel (kein vergleich zum mühlviertlerhof) gelandet, mit eifrigen studies von denen die meisten mädels aussehen wie anwärterinnen für austria's next topmodel. wie geht's dir da drüben?<br />bei uns ist der HiFi wieder präsident, der frühsommer ist endlich da und das TFM institut bekommt wahrscheinlich neue räume in der berggasse, bei mir ums eck."<br /><br />(aki beckmann)miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-87780475996260651762010-03-19T13:48:00.000-07:002010-04-25T21:19:13.934-07:00spring in Vienna I (Los Angeles)home sick ness<br />attacked me<br />today<br />out of the<br />blue sky<br />of spring<br />spring in Vienna<br />(who wrote this song?)<br /><br />like an aftershock<br />of that earthquake<br />yesterday in the<br />middle of the<br />night that scared<br />me to<br />death<br /><br />but spring in Vienna<br />(is it from a movie?)<br />when people<br />crawl out of<br />their houses<br />streets are<br />filled again<br />with these<br />people on chairs<br />at tables<br />spring<br />in Vienna<br />('Dance with the Emperor, ' that movie)<br /><br />after months<br />of cold and dark<br />winter<br />singing birds and<br />people at tables<br />drinking coffee<br />sometimes beer or<br />white wine spritzers<br />drinking, laughing outside<br />spring in Vienna<br />(was made in 1941).miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-46436915287236652972010-03-18T23:39:00.000-07:002010-06-03T00:45:20.783-07:00how to confuse ghoststhe blending of cultures starts when you see doublegangers; of people you know, but they appear in the wrong setting, on the other continent, in that other city. first signs of homesickness? I am not sure. more the accepting of your new surroundings, circumstances, and you have to reassure you that even this city can feel like home, like the known, the usual, the common.<br />but sometimes you run into ghosts, actually real people, that you don't expect here and who behave exactly like in this other city, in this particular scene that you know oh so well and that you wanted to escape. what to do? play the game, exactly how you used to because you know it's just a ghost and it will disappear in a second? ignore them? talk English to them (as you know, or you hope this alters not only your timbre but also what you say)? say something completely unexpected (works only if you are a very spontaneous person)? pick your nose (always a good one)?<br />I opted for the first and felt angry and weird for the rest of the day. How to confuse these ghosts? How can you scare them away?miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-39810703134140667792010-03-16T11:55:00.000-07:002010-03-16T11:58:14.185-07:00reclaim "under construction"As I am not joking in the headline/blog description and really have to figure out in which direction this blog should go - I post something that I did for another one, about a little show that I just did as part of the collective "reclamation".<br /><br /><h2 id="post-1356"><a href="http://reclamationproject.wordpress.com/2010/02/18/notes-on-labor-process-and-repetition/" rel="bookmark" title="Permanent Link to notes on labor, process and repetition">notes on labor, process and repetition</a></h2> <small>02/18/10</small> <div class="entry"> <div class="snap_preview"><p>While working on customizing all the plastic bottles we collected for the tube system, cutting plastic bags into little biscuits, binding loops together and making rope with Leonardo da Vinci’s ropemaker (an original, almost blasting our budget), we thought about the character of repetitive work. After spending hours and hours on customizing, fabricating and assembling, we went home, slept, came back and did the same for hours and hours. I spoke to one of my teachers about that I feel like doing a nightshift at an assembly line and she was interested as well as amused. Who would have thought that the process of making art could feel so unglamorous, so free of a manifestation of romantic ideas about vocation, inspiration and wild and highly gestural outbreaks of creativity?</p> <p>It was much more about figuring out how to transform things into something different, with the help of what we could get in a short amount of time at low expenses, something recycled (and recyclable) and then just do basically the same transformational process over and over with our hands, our fingers, cutting, binding, fixing. However the repetitiveness of that process made us think, again, about the meditative quality of this type of work. Something that you do with your hands over and over, turns you into a machine embodying the hand movements that have to be applied. Your body becomes a machine or at least the extension of a machine. Nobody would regard work at the assembly line though as something shaped like a ritual that can transcend a mode of being that is calm, quiet and meditative. Is it the fact that being part of an assembly line process means that one is only a small part in a larger concept that is not transparent but highly dependent what comes before and after? Or is it the fact that your workpace is dictated by the machine and not by yourself? Is it just the notion of work–or something clearly declared as work–in contrast to a necessity that makes the difference? Or is it the spatial layout itself that is not at all designed to lead the way to “find” yourself?</p> <p>(There are probably tons of stories about how people’s will and creativity is broken through working in a plant at an assembly line – One of German writer Hermann Hesse novels is titled “Unterm Rad / Under the wheel” from 1903 and this expression, I think, frames it quite well – a visual reference would be Charlie Chaplin ‘s “Modern Times,” 1936, the famous scene where he gets caught in these big cogwheels.)</p> <p>The assembly line and its machines dictate the workpace, they are alienating the workers form the actual process of creating something through a simple spatial division, and thereby they also prevent the workers form gathering together (… probably the Marxist point of argumentation but I can’t help thinking it…..). What would be the counterpart? Or an example of repetitive work that leads to a state of meditation, of “emptying out” yourself. I think about religious and sacred rituals that involve singing, praying and making music and I think about women doing work at home, sitting around a table in big cercles (sic!) and knitting, crocheting, lacemaking, felting or whatever (you get the picture), and singing and … chatting. So not so meditative as well – it turns out to be about communication, about having a space exclusively for women that allows them to exchange information, where they dictate themselves what is done, how and when. A space that was later replaced by department stores, for a certain class, of course.</p> <p>I can’t help thinking about the gender implications our work has/had: we were in between or doing both, construction work and handicraft, the drafts as well as the fine mechanics. I had weird (for me who never liked knitting and crocheting and who doesn’t want to change her mind because all of a sudden it’s “right” and good and hip to reappropriate these techniques or to do as much as possible yourself!!) fantasies about knitting a vest with these plastic bag threads.</p> <p>So these hours and hours of unusual manual labor lead me more to a close examination of the here and now and its conditions and context than bringing me to state of mind with a transcendental possibility. (This is my very personal field report and Kyoung and I had different opinions on that!!). Maybe because I agree with Karl Marx again or at least I am sceptic about any religious implications that just lead to a concealment of the actual conditions of society. On the other hand he saw everything through the lense of class oppression and this is a very limiting stance … still he and Friedrich Engels imagined a society without work (or at least this type of work that puts one “under the wheel”) where everyone is free to educate one’s mind and as little as Marx had women in mind, there is really wonderful book by Engels where he tackles the “problem” titled “The Origin of the Family, Private Property, and the State,” 1884.</p> <p>So I am torn between longing for a transcendental experience that can be gained through meditation and asceticism and the desire to take action that can come out of an empty mind, but of a clear one tough. And before I get caught in my own notes I just state again that we did all kind of work and that we were performing engineers, and construction workers and this is precisely what I like about art, that it is a performance, a proposition, an idea to pass where all the “intervening steps” to quote Sol Lewitt, the “founder” of conceptual art, are “of interest”, the “scribbles, sketches, drawings, failed works, models, studies thoughts, conversations … those that show the thought process of the artist are sometimes more interesting than the final product.”</p> <p>In this respect what we produced is: a dysfunctional system to water a garden – two layers – an inside and an outside – that were supposed to be connected – but even the planning of the connection was so difficult that now, as they are disconnected, it makes sense to me to leave them in that state. we are left with a very sculptural piping system, a ladder with an extension that stands on its own – as a formally as well as conceptually interesting piece of art – a beautiful garden in the backyard of the gallery and the question of what to do with this post-apocalyptic system. whatever we decide, for me it is clear that we have to adapt to the process and preserve an openness of the piece that was unpredicted and that will involve, again, manual labor to perform it.</p> </div> </div>miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-69948550082352633482009-10-23T19:45:00.001-07:002009-10-23T19:47:31.702-07:00Strike and Teach: remark<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3RXKGdQZH1qN3mvUvMJoQhI_SJ-o_-8KPRUcLpSxk0Y_8h-tikRnJ-sJHafp78v_o89hrflRb9kjTGReUof1qcHB-8Bt4b49IDmmdhR8cW_ihrNOd76uRpshOf1wTZAHJpsBTQCEaJwI/s1600-h/truth+study.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3RXKGdQZH1qN3mvUvMJoQhI_SJ-o_-8KPRUcLpSxk0Y_8h-tikRnJ-sJHafp78v_o89hrflRb9kjTGReUof1qcHB-8Bt4b49IDmmdhR8cW_ihrNOd76uRpshOf1wTZAHJpsBTQCEaJwI/s400/truth+study.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395992281465098866" border="0" /></a>miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-52031038564118355602009-10-23T02:56:00.000-07:002009-10-23T17:15:42.631-07:00Streiken und LehrenWas so viel heisst wie "Strike and Teach" (stimmt nicht ganz, aber die urgency, die das ganze so bekommt, gefällt mir besser).<br /><br />So there's a strike at the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna (the University of Vienna joined in on thursday noon as I just learned). The school is occupied by its students, by students, by students and teachers. Against? Against the so-called Bologna-process that means the introduction of a three-phase model like that in the (not only United States) with bachelor–master–phd. Of course this does not only mean a change in terms of curricula but also involves the whole structuring and decision-making process of the universities which already changed into entities with partial legal capacity; senates were introduced, the students were forced back in every step of a possible decision making process be it the policies of a specific institute be it commission-work for hiring professors etc. ...<br /><br />By now the b-m-p model has been introduced at almost every university in Austria. But this is an art school and this strike is apparently against a system that considers education as good that is consumable like everything else, something you can and should invest in because you speculate on the return on investment (ROI) and on further interest that pays back–here, again in the US, this is a bit contorted as you take a credit to invest in something that has to help you in the future to pay that off–still, we're talking economic terms, or even commercial terms as we would still be able to find economic theories that regard education as common good, as public good, that should neither become scarce nor unaffordable for certain parts of the population. Again: this is not so much about the fear expressed from the economic side that the bachelor degree could be completely useless in finding a job–or from the academic side where the bachelor degree is the horror-scenario of every distinguished institute proud of its prominent researchers; for this discussion is an old one. In the 1980ies they changed from phd to a master-phd model and everybody was in full commotion.<br /><br />This is about the penetration of all areas of life with economic and commercial principles, with an ideology that considers everything consumable and wants every process to be rational and goal-oriented. So of course, there has to be a strike at art school; where else if not there? But these protests do not only reveal the ideology behind a re-structuring process but also the ideas that still infuse art schools in my opinion: making them into a weird hybrid between romanticism and modernism–or better showing how modernism was infused with romanticism and we ourselves still are? (sorry for my grammar and syntax) the romantic notion of the artist standing apart from bourgeois society mixed with the very modernist idea of the avant-garde artist who can and should change society through art, a somewhat schizophrenic situation.<br /><br />So am I supporting a system by attending an art school that follows the b-m-model and where you have to pay a lot to enter it? Yes and no. (oh how will I get out of this??). I decided to study here because I got the opportunity (and I worked for that) and then because I wanted to stay. I chose this particular school in this country exactly because of the cultural differences, because of not being in Europe, because of a language that I understand but I don't have to learn specifically, because of the relative smallness of the school, of its variety of departments, that seemed to encourage a more interdisciplinary approach to studying, because of the fact that it was far off from a straight way into academia. And as far as some of these things "worked out" for me pretty well others didn't but that is obviously not the answer to the question.<br /><br />I am aware of the fact that I am in a system that I don't support from an ideological point of view, not at all. I am aware that I am privileged by being able to afford it. And I am aware of this contradiction but I have to work with that (not live) and what is interesting now that I am here is: how to perform this system, what are the pockets, what are the holes that allow something else? "Self-organized learning," I declared to a friend (who is Austrian) the other day, but he reminded me of the fact that I entered a system that is precisely not about this possibility of studying/learning and that I shouldn't be so snotty. Point taken, I thought, but is it really a point?<br /><br />There are these two approaches around all the time: you pay a lot so you have the power to demand a lot–intensity, experience, knowledge, practice–as a student you seemed to have bought the right to be turned into a well trained creative artist whether that is possible or not, into an artist who knows how to surf the art world. You evaluate your teachers and courses, and they have to deal with you in an open, encouraging manner (that I have never experienced in a school in Austria I must say and I am bit reluctant to believe that it is only for the money!!) as you are somehow in control. But this is a system that is organized tight, attendance lists, assignments, etc... rules that define exactly how you may or may not fail etc... so you can demand a lot if you play to their rules. Basta. difficult to introduce your work pace, to subvert assignments, just to do differently? yes, but still I think my questions are worth considering–and the concept I just talked about was a bit followed by what was called "studium irregulare" at the University of Vienna in former times (as I think it doesn't exist anymore..).<br /><br />So what are the pockets, how to perform the system? (and the answers will look like questions to you but they are answers, believe me.) What are the strategies that could be used? collaborations, groups, every work is a collaborative, collective project, where the authorship gets blurred? refusal of any thoughts about a market driven audience? re-enactment of crucial periods/points in canonization of works, strategies, theories? and then deconstructing them? deconstructing school a little bit in every work that you do? re-appropriate learning? deterritorialize learning? through setting up not only one blog but a network of blogs where it is never clear how updated and accurate information is? Through just changing the classroom? Through setting everyone in a different physical state? Be annoyingly critical about the content, strategies etc. that are taught? Quote without referencing, displace without stating the origin and even less the end? Re-appropriation of the processual? Introduce a playfulness that is not hippie, not hipster, but fierce and loud? Adjust your voice so that nobody ever knows who is speaking and from where? Simply ignore things that are taught? And how am I doing this as a teacher? (that was unexpected, wasn't it?).<br /><br />Still the stucture, the administration is formed by ideology at the same time it infuses th politics of its execution, of teaching and leraning. At my little art school, there are these boards and committees where students are involved like the senate, there student affairs office, and a couple of others but I don't have the slightest idea how they are really organized and how the decision making processes are executed when there are budget cuts, new teaching positions, new offices to be formed. there seems to be no space that is students' only run–no, maybe the courtyards between the buildings, there seem to be small patches that resist regulation, but still it's THE campus–no budget that is in students' hands only. And again this IS a small school, placed like a sattellite to this vast city.<br /><br />About a month ago there were strikes at USC (university of southern california), at all its branches if I remember that correctly. Teachers demonstrated against budget cuts and had to convince their students of this cause. I don't know if they were successful, I think this term is not even appropriate.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-34072224379191731382009-10-17T16:31:00.000-07:002009-10-23T03:45:59.540-07:00Paralyse Stillstand Awethe stages I went through when I just looked at my little blog and realized that my last entry was in march!!! Meine Herren, how could this happen? too much thinking about how to start it again, what to write and not sounding too: bemüht, insignificant, vain, shallow, complicated, theoretic, etc...<br />these are the stolpersteine (repeat that. after me.), the hurdles. and the design. I want an image like a drone.<br /><br />I will fix that.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-77746406700631027102009-03-05T01:44:00.000-08:002009-03-05T10:52:12.322-08:00Am I<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-eqH2wH5QZSweUmQVpAS9clw8JwfxrBPdwkxwQy75Dq-bk6n-xUPCb7FYAOBIG51cZSy21SlaS_JZ38ZQjbx8gjYOtz9OOxuiIbbunwrASgX8EUFp7awdBXvL2m6jC53ivHd6AIA7HE/s1600-h/sanfran_street.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 162px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG-eqH2wH5QZSweUmQVpAS9clw8JwfxrBPdwkxwQy75Dq-bk6n-xUPCb7FYAOBIG51cZSy21SlaS_JZ38ZQjbx8gjYOtz9OOxuiIbbunwrASgX8EUFp7awdBXvL2m6jC53ivHd6AIA7HE/s200/sanfran_street.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309778197718136290" border="0" /></a><br />thinking about language in spatial categories? ja!<br />words in spatial settings? ja!<br />stories to tell? nein.<br />fiction? vielleicht.<br />modes of narration? ja.<br />masquerade? auch.<br />mockery? definitely.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-3324349663695340282009-03-04T21:41:00.000-08:002009-03-05T10:43:02.824-08:00this is not an album cover<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8BhGgmH4QjS7DESVYYt6YPYuQmGYpRBziUIusRr9eEnEnUsAJENPDwMepPPBymLVCf7lb_eRYURt2rh8f6J8bF-qzdHsKk1qNhRkEdvr_SyTa2ebNYzOeFNfmfsmR6lkgr_cR9S0zzH4/s1600-h/clau_album.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 191px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8BhGgmH4QjS7DESVYYt6YPYuQmGYpRBziUIusRr9eEnEnUsAJENPDwMepPPBymLVCf7lb_eRYURt2rh8f6J8bF-qzdHsKk1qNhRkEdvr_SyTa2ebNYzOeFNfmfsmR6lkgr_cR9S0zzH4/s200/clau_album.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309598923482071410" border="0" /></a>as this is not facebook!<br />Within the past two weeks I got the third request on facebook about creating something. In fact it already started months ago with the aufforderung: grab the book that is nearest to you, go on page 52 and pick the fifth sentence, this is your status and now, go and post these instructions (oder so..). The next one was about telling 25 random things about you and then tagging friends who should do the same, followed by: put your i-pod on shuffle and answer the following questions with song-titles and finally the album art experiment: again follow this link to wikipedia, that one to flickr, photoshop and voilà your album! Not to mention the tagging of your friends in all of these cases/experiments(??)/(chance) operations. One might say these are all (not so) silly games to create content, content and content on facebook, checking out people who share (or do not) the same tools, programs, music preferences, etc... but what made my little thinking motor going in this respect is this:<br />Randomness. what does that mean? there's no such thing as 25 (or whatever) random things about you because as soon as you think about them and tell them, they loose their randomness. Why does anyone want to tell "random" things about herself ? Is it the urge to share something secret with your friends? on facebook? what an idea? But isn't facebook linked in a weird way to a level of authenticity that e.g. chat-rooms never attained? So it is a way of self-classification, of making it easier for others to grasp a level of your personality that they probably would never get in a simple conversation. Am I being sarcastic again? Creating your very own, very personal narrative that is ironically detached from you as it is mediated and as it is freed from all possible lapses, wrong gestures, default speeches etc... that could occur otherwise. As if a consistent characterization through classification is still possible.<br />Second: the creative operation and the question who does not cheat? Is it different to painting by numbers (Malen nach Zahlen). The creative process of selecting is delegated to a machine -though there are some parameters left for design- this is nothing new beziehungsweise this maybe used as strategy to erase the personal gesture of an author. however this case is slightly different as the author remains present in the "game". these false chance operations remind me much more of tarot, numerology or ancient practices of fortune-telling where every detail becomes of significant importance and the order/classification reveals a whole, a truth finally!<br />The temptation lies within the fact that it can be easily done during the morning coffee, a coffee-break, afternoon-tea-time etc... It is as if we were prone to consume our own creative practices.<br />Anyway, I would call this album: planes of golden particles. Schlicht.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-69946310542984505332009-01-23T01:34:00.000-08:002009-01-23T02:03:06.884-08:00Language II<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1hpJxBV93cVcaFy0eTj-szBN3-av8hoDINfPcfUhfRDtmu8YRbN8TFwQmIa2YLMqYuyBlAEYMlSUPebGqL7QPYIv1lF8MQS34B627trlktJNns8ySMnLUpyzCEFpzfHGeDLNwZ0DhCQ/s1600-h/sanfran_Schild.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 153px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1hpJxBV93cVcaFy0eTj-szBN3-av8hoDINfPcfUhfRDtmu8YRbN8TFwQmIa2YLMqYuyBlAEYMlSUPebGqL7QPYIv1lF8MQS34B627trlktJNns8ySMnLUpyzCEFpzfHGeDLNwZ0DhCQ/s200/sanfran_Schild.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294423621226603458" border="0" /></a>What I learned today (as well as last week and probably I should say I heard it again only in a more elaborate way) is that language is corrupt. It gives a damn about the truth but is all about simulation and defeat, a system of floating signifiers, creating only various discourses which have to be constantly analyzed, questioned, put into context in their ability to create as well as conceal and transform meaning (and thus power relations). So far so good and in my philosophically unburdened naivité I was surprised how entertaining Nietzsche is/was. The "simple" solution to the problem is far from keeping your mouth shut, it is: more communication! riding the waves of signification and representation (to stay within California-inspired metaphors) we can only come a bit closer and away from the point where we just want to smash each others heads. But we will never be able to describe exactly the same..<br />So I decided to blog again ... (though I doubt this as tool for communication but it can shape a discourse, can't it? hmm.. not sure). But as I am confused by irony I'll stick to sarcasm!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEv_B91Gf331Qi_fJgaTVFZvh1Br5sIWwEf8DR46cVAiFsds8sCwTFX4iSa6POuSQKHPOAxVQMRaLRQiLZbXzeB-LTZWAfYbIQSap8Ivf13W67Lz75ByovOeNbZDzk4PnDtUuGGDQzgm4/s1600-h/sanfran_Schild.jpg"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><br /></span></a>miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-77665237326657466272009-01-23T01:21:00.000-08:002009-01-23T01:34:18.086-08:00Language I<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMCBv-C_OxEuRn4sgzpqLHJsOMSAmhC8YqIax7sYJ5Qdz7v9BmAHdEcuAWC2hKDJ9MttAUwBYV0MFvRP1NFZCow9z07j_tetSjEd0MvPFgq2nXv1hIv9mjPS4E7sioa_O4bbIM7K-E-uA/s1600-h/sanfran_flag.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMCBv-C_OxEuRn4sgzpqLHJsOMSAmhC8YqIax7sYJ5Qdz7v9BmAHdEcuAWC2hKDJ9MttAUwBYV0MFvRP1NFZCow9z07j_tetSjEd0MvPFgq2nXv1hIv9mjPS4E7sioa_O4bbIM7K-E-uA/s320/sanfran_flag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294420136453814562" border="0" /></a>miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1431547806110380853.post-35506629099808472322008-11-16T22:24:00.001-08:002008-11-16T23:25:51.263-08:00Laissez-faireNatrürlich weiss ich wiedermal von nix - ohne fernseher und mit meiner addiction for netradio, that is BBC Worldnews on KCRW or fresh air of the University of Edinburgh - und meine mutter fragt mich, ob ich bereits von den flammen eingekreist bin. nein, bin ich nicht, ich wohne ja weder in einem canyon in malibu, noch in einer containersiedlung am rande von sylmar, sondern bei den bobos in silverlake, wo ich demnächst einen preis nicht nur fürs zufussgehen, sondern auch für das allesfressen erhalten werde: of course I'll have eggs in my spicy aubergines, the white rice and the full fat yoghurt. yess, I do eat meat and no, I don't have any allergies (anyone remembering the ardmaan animation "creature comforts"? I am the mountain lion – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihhq5_2kaWQ&feature=related )<br />the LA county fire department has all information online und die stadt ist tasächlich so etwas wie eingekreist von wildfires an der grenze zu orange county, richtung santa barbara und bei sylmar, das liegt etwa 30 minuten (mit dem auto natürlich) richtung nordwesten, direkt an der interstate 5. no road closures by now – though the fire has jumped (was für eine beschreibung!) the 210 and the 5 – and the map shows me that I will have to pass through when driving up to school on tuesday. am abend geh ich raus um meine route entlang des silverlake reservoirs abzulaufen und rieche den rauch so stark, dass ich denke, nebenan brennt es auch schon. der niederdruck tut sein übriges dazu: rauch, ozean, feigenbäume, keine abgase, no dog shit. immerhin.<br />die reaktionen hier sind gelassen: von "welcome to SoCal" bis zu "I didn't smell anything" und irgendwie muss das natürlich so sein, weil alle hier permanent am rande der katastrophe leben: wildfires, erdbeben, das macht gelassen.<br />schwarzenegger declared a state of emergency, mayor villaraigosa said that the fires destroyed more than any other in the past decades and that the power supply for the city is in danger.<br />haben wir kerzen? trinkwasser? soll ich die emergency broschüre des lawpd bestellen?<br />ich denke an die 500 zerstörten mobile homes und die 1800 assigned firefighters. der wind hat sich gelegt, ich rieche nichts mehr und mein wireless-modem flackert still vor sich hin.miss firnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05694870642189866111noreply@blogger.com1