(un)dead

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Didn’t it?! #unknownartist Selected by @arnaldpomotz

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INSTAGRAM COMMENT SECTION (How Comments Became the Best Part of Instagram)

-Nothing can kill Art -Got a lighter with a different opinion

-And, in many ways, helped breathe new life into it. Ying and Yang -*Yin

-No it didn’t. It opened up endless possibilities. It welcomed new audiences instead of the elite. There are many ways to create and consume art because of it. Some for the better some for the worst.

-Come from a country (Romania) where art is not appreaciated at all .. my only chance that my art to be seen is Instagram.

-Did create new art, or even expose artists to a new generation.

-Stop whining, it is a good platform to let new artists be known without a gallery in between

-It exposed me to art I would never have seen before. I don’t go to exhibits so if it wasn’t for insta I’d have never seen half of it

-Instagram is just another medium

-That’s what I’ve been saying for years! -Irony -What is ironic? -You’re an instagram account that posts pictures of art, complaining that instagram killed art. It’s ironic because you’re degrading the platform you use to spread art, because you think it’s destroying art -I post pieces of art to share stories from history and explain how light works. If anything, I am trying to help people be more aware. To remind why art exists and its purpose. Instagram kills art because it creates the illusion that anyone can be an artist. That everything, no matter how pointless or hollow, can be classified as “art”. Faking activity to receive some recognition from people who fake activity to receive recognition. A loop of fakeness. I am not spreading art. I am spreading knowledge. -That just sounds like pretentious bullshit. To view one’s opinion of art as higher than another’s is supercilious and arrogant. Art isn’t just high art anymore, you can’t fully experience art by perusing an art museum; art is so much broader than paintings and sculptures. Performance is art, music is art, there’s son many ways to explore art. You can’t tell people what’s art and what isn’t art. In my opinion, art is what people say it is. If you call something art, it becomes art; art is something that invokes a response. Anyone can be an artist, but what one does with art and if you succeed or fail is up to the quality and meaning of your art. Bad art exists, but in the eye of the beholder. Art cannot be objectively bad.

-Business killed art

-This is stupid in so many ways

-And … Roads kill cars …

-In some way yes. Every Instagram user claims to be an artist -Every person can be an artist if they are determined to become one. No one is born an artist. There’s a lot of people that get started on Instagram. I did, and I had really shitty artwork up for years, and I still am improving, but I probably wouldn’t ever have if I didn’t get such support through this platform.

-Art kills art

-Nice piece of art, but not true… maybe ironically

-*posted on an Instagram art page*

-Erase Instagram and art still exits

-In some ways. In other ways it reached all over the world. Anything that is stretched becomes less potent than its original form

-Or propelled it? Gave it a space to be shared-wider-than ever before? I don’t know, I have a hard time appreciating Instagram too.

-Art never dies.

-No, it’s good for art, a good platform.

-Art is eternal.

-What is art?

-If it is Art, it is not “killeable”

-Smartphones killed art. Any dingbat now has the ability to capture. Dat selfie art doe.

-And in many ways helped a lot of artists gain exposure…

-Sounds like old people bitchin about change -That’s exactly what it is… if there’s anything I actually do hate about social media, it’s all the elitists I see on it all the damn time.

-If your art was ruined by Instagram it wasn’t good art in the first place.

-This post killed art lol

-I agree with a lot of people here. Insta definitely is great for creating an art world outside of the elite, opened opportunities and shares the appreaciation of it all over the world

-Art can not be killed darling

-Everything is art. Everything comes and goes

-Instagram democratised art.

-Hardly. That’s like saying photography killed art. Or that digital killed art.

-No it didn’t. Nihilism is dead.

-That’s what they said about ANDY Warhol but you cannot kill art.

-In this context saying something has been killed kills it

-Nah, just changed it.

-In the days of Instagram, they will call crap art good and good art crap.

-Instagram can’t “kill” or “do” anything. If anything it has given people an opportunity to grind and connect with people that they would never have a chance to otherwise. I dare say memes like this one do more harm than good, I certainly don’t feel enlightened.

-If anything the internet and social propelled a new artistic movement. Now people don’t have to die before becoming famous for their work.

-Rich people did it

-Kill insta with art

-It killed the differentiation of good and bad art. Everything looks good at 4.5 inches.

-ART WILL SURVIVE, ARTISTS WON’T

-Tbh this is disrespectful to Van Gogh…

-Only if internet killed humanity¿

-Saved art

-Instagram did not kill art. It exposed it to be an elitist money laundering fakery that was abused… while at the same time opened up an easy “get in the public eye” avenue to many unknown, yet incredibly talented artists. If anything, instagram made arts more popular and accessible for anyone that otherwise would’ve never had a chance to show “their stuff”.

-No it’s reinventing it

 

dialécticas

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Hypnagogia: The Unique State of Consciousness Between Wakefulness and Sleep by Andreas Mavromatis. 1987, Routledge & Kegan Paul. . "This is the only work in English dealing with hypnagogia, the state of consciousness between wakefulness and sleep. It provides an exhaustive account of hypnagogia, bringing its diverse phenomena into a comprehensive framework. Dr. Mavromatis argues that this common, naturally occurring state may not only be distinct from wakefulness and sleep but unique in its nature and function, possibly carrying important evolutionary implications. He analyzes the relationship between hypnagogia and other states, processes and experiences- such as sleepdreams, meditation, psi, schizophrenia, creativity, hypnosis, hallucinogenic drug-induced states, eidetic phenomena and epileptic states- and shows that, functioning in hypnagogia, a person may gain knowledge of aspects of his or her mental nature which constitute fundamental underpinnings to all adult thought. In addition, functioning in hypnagogia is shown to play a significant part in mental and physical health." . . . . . . #consciousness #hypnagogia #hypnagogic #consciousnessstudies #sleep #dreams #liminal #liminality #liminalstates #meditation #hypnosis #psi #creativity #psychedelic #psychedelics #psychonaut #andreasmavromatis #psychology #philosophy #bookstagram #bibliophile #bookblog #bookcollector #neuroticavintagebooks

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"I don’t really destroy things, I just change them, I change their shape, just like any sculptor does. I chose the refrigerator. I stoned it for a week, every day, until I got the shape really changed. I chose it because I wanted to throw stones at something as sculptural work, but I wanted an object that no one would care about. I thought that if I stoned a TV or an automobile, everyone would be glad and care in some way or another, and I thought that a refrigerator was completely neutral. It was, until I started stoning it and then it wasn’t neutral anymore. Then it started being brave, so that in the end I called it Saint Frigo, because it was a martyr. I saved its life by making it a martyr. It was going into the trash, now it’s eternal, now it’s art." Jimmie Durham piece from 1996 #jimmiedurham #work2day

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#sculpture #theadjordjadze #blue #object

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Thomas Van Lingue #ThomasVanLingue

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#folded #painting #contemporaryart

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14/365 blank slate

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#emptybillboard

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#emptybillboard #nothingisordinary #spacey #spacescape

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#nothingisordinary #spacey #emptybillboard

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kode 9 & the space ape|love is the drug

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#faildeadly #vincentbezuidenhout Declassified documents printed on standard A4 copy paper, plinth. In the 1970 and 80’s South Africa built six atom bombs in seemingly complete secrecy. As the apartheid system crumbled the program was swiftly disbanded before the advent of democracy. Pelindaba consists of more than 900 pages of declassified documents from various sources including the N.S.A., C.I.A. and internal government communications regarding South Africa’s clandestine Nuclear weapons program during apartheid. These documents cover a period of twenty-five years of South African nuclear policy, from early uranium supply arrangements under the United States-South Africa Atomic Energy Bilateral to the South African response to the September 1979 Vela incident and the subsequent destruction of its nuclear program. Large sections within these documents have been redacted.

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HBRD

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Abraham Zabludovsky

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making sure i share a special one ✨

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Smite by Mark Bradford #markbradford

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artwork by Thea Djordjadze. #theadjordjadze #spruethmagers

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Der grüne Zaun

“The old Kent Road was very crowded on Thursday, the eleventh of October 1928. People spilt off the pavement. There were women with shopping bags. Children ran out. There were sales at drapers’ shops. Streets widened and narrowed. Long vistas steadily shrunk together. Here was a market. Here a funeral. Here a procession with banners upon which was written “Ra – Un”, but what else? Meat was very red. Butchers stood at the door. Women almost had their heels sliced off. Amor Vin- that was over a porch. A woman looked out of a bedroom window, profoundly contemplative, and very still. Applejohn and Applebed, Undert-. Nothing could be seen whole or read from start to finish. What was seen begun – like two friends starting to meet each other across the street – was never seen ended. After twenty minutes the body and mind were like scraps of torn paper tumbling from a sack and, indeed, the process of motoring fast out of London so much resembles the chopping up small of identity which precedes unconsciousness and perhaps death itself that it is an open question in what sense Orlando can be said to have existed at the present moment. Indeed we should have given her over for a person entirely disassembled were it not that here, at last, one green screen was held out on the right, against which the little bits of paper fell more slowly; and then another was held out on the left so that one could see the separate scraps now turning over by themselves in the air; and then green screens were held continuously on either side, so that her mind regained the illusion of holding things within itself and she saw a cottage, a farmyard and four cows, all precisely life-size.”

Orlando, Virginia Woolf. Pg. 151-152, Wordsworth Classics.

twins

Paterson (2016), Jim Jarmusch

 

“Paterson (Adam Driver) es conductor de autobuses en Paterson, Nueva Jersey. Escribe poemas en una pequeña libreta que siempre lleva consigo.”

Jim Jarmusch’s “Paterson” and the Myth of the Solitary Artist
Poem from the film ‘Paterson’. (Paterson’s poems were written for the film by the American poet Ron Padgett)
Books from the film ‘Paterson’

mu 無

Cuentos de Tokio. 1953. Yasujirō Ozu.

 

—Los otros embajadores me advierten de carestías, de concusiones, de conjuras, o bien me señalan minas de turquesas recién descubiertas, precios ventajosos de las pieles de marta, propuestas de suministros de armas damasquinas. ¿Y tú? — preguntó a Polo el Gran Kan—. Vuelves de comarcas tan lejanas y todo lo que sabes decirme son los pensamientos que se le ocurren al que toma el fresco por la noche sentado en el umbral de su casa. ¿De que te sirve, entonces, viajar tanto? — Es de noche, estamos sentados en las escalinatas de tu palacio, sopla un poco de viento — respondió Marco Polo—. Cualquiera que sea la comarca que mis palabras evoquen en torno a ti, la verás desde un observatorio situado como el tuyo, aunque en el lugar del palacio real haya una aldea lacustre y la brisa traiga el olor de un estuario fangoso. — Mi mirada es la del que esta absorto y medita, lo admito. ¿Pero y la tuya? Atraviesas archipiélagos, tundras, cadenas de montañas. Daría lo mismo que no te movieses de aquí.
El veneciano sabía que cuando Kublai se las tomaba con él era para seguir mejor el hilo de sus razonamientos; y que sus respuestas y objeciones se situaban en un discurso que ya se desenvolvía por cuenta propia en la cabeza del Gran Kan. O sea que entre ellos era indiferente que se enunciaran en voz alta problemas o soluciones, o que cada uno de los dos siguiera rumiándolos en silencio. En realidad estaban mudos, con los ojos entrecerrados, recostados sobre almohadones, meciéndose en hamacas, fumando largas pipas de ámbar.
Marco Polo imaginaba que respondía (o Kublai imaginaba su respuesta) que cuanto más se perdía en barrios desconocidos de ciudades lejanas, más entendía las otras ciudades que había atravesado para llegar hasta allí, y recorría las etapas de sus viajes, y aprendía a conocer el puerto del cual había zarpado, y los sitios familiares de su juventud, y los alrededores de su casa, y una placita de Venecia donde corría de pequeño.
Llegado a este punto Kublai Kan lo interrumpía o imaginaba que lo interrumpía, o Marco Polo imaginaba que lo interrumpía con una pregunta como: —¿Avanzas con la cabeza siempre vuelta hacia atrás? —o bien:—¿Lo que ves está siempre a tus espaldas? —o mejor:—¿ Tu viaje se desarrolla sólo en el pasado?

Todo para que Marco Polo pudiese explicar o imaginar que explicaba o que Kublai hubiese imaginado que explicaba o conseguir por último explicarse a sí mismo que aquello que buscaba era siempre algo que estaba delante de él, y aunque se tratara del pasado era un pasado que cambiaba a medida que él avanzaba en su viaje, porque el pasado del viajero cambia según el itinerario cumplido, no digamos ya el pasado próximo al que cada día que pasa añade un día, sino el pasado más remoto. Al llegar a cada nueva ciudad el viajero encuentra un pasado suyo que ya no sabía que tenía: la extrañeza de lo que no eres o no posees más te espera al paso en los lugares extraños y no poseídos. 

Las ciudades invisibles, Italo Calvino. Pág. 20.

 

Cuentos de Tokio. 1953. Yasujirō Ozu.

 

 

saved

Saved images:
¿imágenes "salvadas" y/o guardadas?

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This Diana Markosian photograph is from a new series on refugees learning to swim. The image features in the 'Women Seeing Women' exhibition, which is on display at @staleywisegallery in New York until the end of August. Find an exhibition near you to mark World Photo Day today. See Magnum exhibitions around the world on magnumphotos.com/events. PHOTO: "Hanan Saeed Abdo, 15, from Iraq, boarded a small rubber boat in Turkey to cross the Mediterranean. It was night. She remembers many families on that boat, crammed together shoulder to shoulder, feet to feet. She was sitting on the edge. A year later, now in Germany, she is among a handful of refugees learning to swim as a way of overcoming fear of water." Wolfsburg, Germany. March, 2017. © @markosian/#MagnumPhotos #DianaMarkosian #WorldPhotoDay

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MetaModern – Jordi Colomer in #BRUTgroup

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Photo by @zitrusfrisch Selection by @farvator91 Congratulations on this intriguing capture of architectural perfection. Please do visit the amazing gallery of the featured artist/photographer and share your architecture-view loves ___________________________________________ ◽Use #architecture_view  for a chance to be featured ◽ ___________________________________________ Please, take a minute for visiting our friendly hub: @skyscraping_architecture @arkiminimal #archimasters #minimal_lookup #lookingup_architecture #architecture_greatshots #facade #architecturephotography #architecturewatch #modernarchitecture #architecturedesign #skyscraper #rsa_architecture #architektura #architecture_hunter #unlimitedcities #architectural #archigram #archiporn #architectureschool #architecturestudent #archidesign #archidaily #beautifularchitecture #architizer #архитектор #housedesign #architectures #architecturephoto #архитектура

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ort

 

Alles (Asturias)

 

“When you travel a lot, and when you love to just wander around and get lost, you can end up in the strangest spots. . . . I don’t know, it must be some sort of built-in radar that often directs me to places that are strangely quiet, or quietly strange.”

Wim Wenders, Places, strange and quiet.

Alles (Asturias)

 

Alles (Asturias)

 

La modernidad es lo transitorio, lo fugitivo, lo contingente, la mitad del arte, cuya otra mitad es lo eterno y lo inmutable. Ha habido una modernidad para cada pintor antiguo; la mayor parte de los hermosos retratos que nos quedan de tiempos anteriores están vestidos con trajes de su época. Son perfectamente armoniosos, porque el traje, el peinado e incluso el gesto, la mirada y la sonrisa (cada época tiene su porte, su mirada y su sonrisa) forman un todo de una completa vitalidad. Este elemento transitorio, fugitivo, cuyas metamorfosis son tan frecuentes, no tienen el derecho de despreciado o de prescindir de él. Suprimiéndolo, caen forzosamente en el vacío de una belleza abstracta e indefinible, como la de la única mujer antes del primer pecado.

Charles Baudelaire, El pintor de la vida moderna.

 

Alles (Asturias)

 

Alles (Asturias)

 

Sobre Alles escribió José Saro y Rojas en 1886: “Es Alles de lo más delicioso de Peñamellera Alta; frondosos castañedos, extensos praderíos, maizales vigorosos, acusan un suelo rico y feraz y deleitan la vista con la belleza inimitable del paisaje. Sorprende al viajero en aquellas soledades su hermosa iglesia, acaso la más bella de la zona oriental de Asturias, con una torre tan ligera y gallarda que es el encanto de cuantos la contemplan”.

fachadas

Ángel González García. Cuatro lecciones sobre Mark Rothko (II)(II) “A propósito de Mark Rothko (II)” 19/11/1987

¿Y es Nueva York la ciudad más hermosa del mundo?
No dista mucho de serlo. No hay noches urbanas como las suyas. He contemplado a la ciudad desde la altura de ciertas ventanas. Es cuando los grandes edificios pierden realidad y asumen sus poderes mágicos. Son incorpóreos, es decir que uno no ve sino las ventanas encendidas.
Cuadrado en llamas tras cuadrado en llamas, engastados en el éter. Aquí hay poesía, pues hemos hecho descender a las estrellas (…)

Patria Mía. Ezra Pound (1885 – 1972)

 

Mark Rothko, Underground Fantasy, c. 1940, oil on canvas, Gift of The Mark Rothko Foundation, Inc., 1986.43.130

 

Sandra Lousada. Rothko Exhibition 1961 at The Whitechapel Gallery London.

 

Entrance to Subway (Subway Station / Subway Scene)1938 by Mark Rothko

 

Mark Rothko – Entrance to a Subway (1938)

 

Rothko Exhibition 1961 at The Whitechapel Gallery London. Sandra Lousada became a photographer in the late 1950s.

 

Rothko Exhibition 1961 – Sandra Lousada
Rothko Exhibition 1961 – Sandra Lousada
Rothko Exhibition 1961 – Sandra Lousada

 

Mark Rothko at Whitechapel Gallery, 1961; photo: Sandra Lousada

 

Mark Rothko Untitled [Woman in Subway], 1936
Mark Rothko (1903-1970), Subway, 1935, c/o Pictoright Amsterdam 2011. Oil on canvas, 24 x 18 in. Collection Kate Rothko Prizel.

 

Installation view of Mark Rothko, Portland Art Museum

 

Mark Rothko. 1964.

 

“I also hang the pictures low rather than high, and particularly in the case of the largest ones, often as close to the floor as is feasible, for that is the way they are painted.”

Mark Rothko

narcosis

 

¿Las imágenes reclaman, en verdad, su propia destrucción?

Utz, p. 152; B. Chatwin.

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Human by Gábor Arion Kudász is now available at the #tipibookshop. Link in Bio. Bricks, taken in isolation, are more or less pointless. Like us, they only acquire their 'raison d'être' in association with their fellows. It is in their community that they have meaning. Whenever a brickie lays them out in any one of an infinite number of patterns, they form the structures of our houses, walls, factories and offices. They mark the boundary between Inside and Outside – between the inner kraal in which humanity subsists and the dangerous otherness of the bush, the desert, the sun and snow. As in any aesthetic enterprise, the successful interaction of function and form determines the beauty or ugliness of the building. People have been making and using bricks for thousands of years. Max Ferguson #photography #photographer #architecture #home #lines

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Vindicación y reivindicación del ojo. ¿No sería acaso la historia del arte moderno la historia de su exclusión? Georges Bataille la ha contado admirablemente; y sobre todo: ha querido avisarnos de los peligros de pretender verlo todo; esa enfermedad moderna que desciende fulminantemente sobre los protagonistas de su Histoire de l’oeil (…)

El resto, p. 5; Á. González.

Narcosis narcisista: por qué en la era de las redes sociales todos somos Narciso. AlterCultura. Alejandro Martínez Gallardo – 09/22/2018

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