Sunday, November 15, 2009

Allan Peterson

a lovely excerpt from a lovely poem in the midst of a lovely essay -- round and round we go ---
[this poem = my childhood.]

"I remember being made
to stand in the corner for punishment
because it would be dull and empty
and I would be sorry.
But instead it was a museum of small wonders,
a place of three walls
with a weather my breath influenced,
an archaeology of layers, of painted molding,
a meadow as we called them then
of repeatable pale roses,
an eight-eyed spider in a tear of wallpaper
turning my corner.
The texture. The soft echo if I talked,
if I said I am not bad if this is the world."

-- Allan Peterson

as spotted hereherehere

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Minga -- Bastardilla

From Bastardilla - "In this occasion I want to share with you some information about some current issues in Colombia through image and text I send to you Minga: In "Kichwa" a dialect from the Amazon, means work or community actions, collective and solidary. MINGA is the name of a peaceful manifestation that is carried out through a march of hundreds of kilometers, in which different groups and organizations of various regions of Colombia, create through the use of dialogue a work agenda who's objective is to determine the steps to follow towards the defense of the dignity and sovereignty of the orginary people and native indians in their ancestral lands. This year ,it also proposes as part of the Global Minga the construction of a Climatic Justice Court, that judges the foreign companies and governments that work with them and prey on Mother Nature, looting her natural resources and vulnerate the respect and defense to the right of life."

via Wooster

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Theater Turned Library: MY DREAM


"The old El Ateneo theatre in Buenos Aires"

Nostalgia -- Mad Men

"Nostalgia - it's delicate, but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, 'nostalgia' literally means 'the pain from an old wound.' It's a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn't a spaceship, it's a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards... it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It's not called the wheel, it's called the carousel. It let's us travel the way a child travels - around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know we are loved."

-- Mad Men -- "The Wheel" -- as spoken by Don Draper played by Jon Hamm.

Julianna Swaney

Rip It Off

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Pin It Up : A Bowl of Bows

All that color. All those shapes. All that whimsy.
Yes, please.

Saturday, November 7, 2009

The Defeated -- Linda Gregg

The Defeated

I sat at the desk for a while fooling with my hair
and looking at the black birds on the bakery roof.
Pulled the curtain, put my hair back, and said
it’s time to start. Now it’s after three.
You are still on the bus, I guess, looking out
the window. Sleeping. Knowing your defeat
and eating lunch part by part so it will last
the whole journey.

I heard there are women who light candles
and put them in the sand. Wade out in dresses
carrying flowers. Here we have no hope.
The pregnant woman has the abortion and then
refuses to speak. Horses stall in their strength,
whitening patches of air with their breath.
There will be this going on without them.
Dogs bark or five birds fly straight up
to a branch out of reach.

I had warm pumpernickel bread, cheese and chicken.
It is sunny outside. I miss you. My head is tired.
John was nice this morning. Already what I remember
most is the happiness of seeing you. Having tea.
Falling asleep. Waking up with you there awake
in the kitchen. It was like being alive twice.
I’ll try to tell you better when I am stronger.

What does the moth think when the skin begins to split?
Is the air an astonishing pain? I keep seeing the arms
bent. The legs smashed up against the breasts,
with her sex showing. The weak hands clenched.
I see the sad, unused face. Then she starts to stand up
in the opening out. I know ground and trees.
I know air. But then everything else stops
because I don’t know what happens after that.

--Linda Gregg

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Wendell Berry -- How to Be a Poet

How to Be a Poet
by Wendell Berry


Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.
You must depend upon
affection, reading, knowledge,
skill—more of each
than you have—inspiration,
work, growing older, patience,
for patience joins time
to eternity. Any readers
who like your poems,
doubt their judgment.


Breathe with unconditional breath
the unconditioned air.
Shun electric wire.
Communicate slowly. Live
a three-dimensioned life;
stay away from screens.
Stay away from anything
that obscures the place it is in.
There are no unsacred places;
there are only sacred places
and desecrated places.


Accept what comes from silence.
Make the best you can of it.
Of the little words that come
out of the silence, like prayers
prayed back to the one who prays,
make a poem that does not disturb
the silence from which it came.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Zip Lock Glass

This is made of GLASS. Really.
Glass bowl that looks like a zip closure bag.

I have a (not so) secret love of all things glass.
Wish I knew how to blow it and make it into nifty things.
One day. One day.

After working sixty hours again for what reason -- Bob Hicock

After working sixty hours again for what reason

The best job I had was moving a stone
from one side of the road to the other.
This required a permit which required
a bribe. The bribe took all my salary.
Yet because I hadn’t finished the job
I had no salary, and to pay the bribe
I took a job moving the stone
the other way. Because the official
wanted his bribe, he gave me a permit
for the second job. When I pointed out
that the work would be best completed
if I did nothing, he complimented
my brain and wrote a letter
to my employer suggesting promotion
on stationery bearing the wings
of a raptor spread in flight
over a mountain smaller than the bird.
My boss, fearing my intelligence,
paid me to sleep on the sofa
and take lunch with the official
who required a bribe to keep anything
from being done. When I told my parents,
they wrote my brother to come home
from university to be slapped
on the back of the head. Dutifully,
he arrived and bowed to receive
his instruction, at which point
sense entered his body and he asked
what I could do by way of a job.
I pointed out there were stones
everywhere trying not to move,
all it took was a little gumption
to be the man who didn’t move them.
It was harder to explain the intricacies
of not obtaining a permit to not
do this. Just yesterday he got up
at dawn and shaved, as if the lack
of hair on his face has anything
to do with the appearance of food
on an empty table.

-- Bob Hicock

Monday, November 2, 2009

Christopher Walken Performs Lady Gaga

Christopher Walken performing Lady Gaga's "Poker Face?!"

Is it weird that I really enjoy his voice? I'd love for him to take on some famous poets. Maybe he could do it on the sly. Hey Walken? Do you like poetry? I could give you some gritty bits.

Oil On Canvas : 97

Love this painting by Craftster member UnRuli .
"Oil on Canvas of my husband's 97 year old grandmother"

There's an authenticity beyond the literal execution. There's something about the look on the woman's face, the position of her hands, and the way she sits in the chair that makes me feel as if I have been in this very room with this very woman. Normally, I'm a fan of conceptual work or that which twists and nudges at conventional forms and materials, but I'm reminded that the best work is sometimes more about capturing moments as it is about commenting on those moments.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Ben Turnbull

"Ben Turnbull is fascinated by the global dominance of American culture, and his works unsettling effects result from re-presenting the toys of our innocent youth in symbolic forms that reveal the shocking truths about war, death and guns in the world’s most powerful country. Above all they take a satirical look at the lengths that the country’s political elites go to in order to control and manipulate the way we think, from our first days of play to the last time we cast our vote. Turnbull is a passionate critic of the contemporary American political system, and explains why toys are central to his work: ‘Force fed on violence, abused by a controlling superpower and blackmailed through patriotism, the public are ultimately as disposable as the toys they once played with.'"

Lesson 2

Lesson 3