I've been using Instagram as a principle practice for several years. Here are some recent posts and we can connect there if you like
Kitka in the chapel of chimes. The garden of memory. The lived experience with its ubiquitous sufferings and staggering asymmetries of power are sufficiently grotesque without needing further enunciation. What feels more urgent are earnest gestures in the direction of a more equitable and harmonious coexistence, useful tools, beauty, humor and kindness. I guess it’s all nuance, autocorrect muscle. I sometimes resent the need to write as if all the other things aren’t legible.
#kellereasterling from a talk on her book Subtraction inviting us to consider how we can implement active protocols to redesign infrastructure space
#louismalle from phantom India
#perceptualloop @bbk41 ➰
#louismalle from phantom india
🕊 Paloma 🕊 We walk by a building that says options recovery services with a group of young men standing outside speaking kindly to one another. Notes from the YMCA: bodies swimming together in a pool makes a sound like the ocean. An advanced woman very slender with dark sunglasses slides through the exit gate. A small child walks under with a beautiful laugh. Two bodies in the hot pool making noises, one barely audible and repeating and one sporadic, deep and resonant. I try half closed eyes and think about the erotics of clouds. Notes from the phones bardo: the space where these words and images congregate before becoming public. Their latent power. A supplemental memory unshared. Friends bring over small Agamben books and gradients of hens eggs. Lullabies and dream songs from the Mississippi records tapes series. What does compassion look like towards gut bacteria? Do I feed them fruits and bits of cheese? Can you carry a parasite like a baby? A painting of an extinct bees genitalia by a dying flower. A glitchy conduit metabolizing. Svatba oj ty mysjatsu Shen Khar Venakhi Izgreala Jasna Zvezda N’e zhuritse khlopsy Zvezda Vechernitsa The essays read like tracklists. Visually dispersed, fluid cyborg subjectivities, change to featured.
‘The confessional self, after all, is a complex thing- better conjured than represented, more triangulated than found.’ Interesting thoughts collected by #christophergrobe in The Art of Confession: The Performance of Self from Robert Lowell to Reality TV. I’m not sure I see confession as the primary mode or dominant category presenting itself through the interplay and ratio of my media. Or at least I would prefer not to think of it that way. The language feels too saturated in Christian guilt. Maybe more like a performed inquiry into a troubled notion of self...
#edouardglissant from poetics of relation, poetics of errantry, rhizomes and creolization, succulencies of relation, lost in the mountains and free beneath the sea
#ceciliavicuña sharing thoughts and poems. When I picked up a book of her poetry I thought to myself this is like looking at the marks on the earth after someone dances and sings something beautiful and true
Thanks @robmosswilson for helping Agnes with her face painting concept ❤️ Agnes spent the rest of the day saying things like ‘no sugar!’ and ‘nonhierarchical’
Some excerpts from Arts of Living on a Damaged Planet. Introduction by #elainegan #annatsing #heatherswanson and #nilsbubandt a score by #johncage and fascinating pieces by #katebrown and #deborahbirdrose #shimmer this book and confluence of thinkers is really inspiring, a rich and diverse ecology that extends in many directions I look forward to following
Getting through Ghosts, the mirror side of Monsters in Arts of Living on a Damaged Planet. Excerpts from #andreashejnol #karenbarad #annepringle and #marylouisepratt I find both Karen and Anne’s practice particularly revelatory and deeply poetic.
Some more Interdependence day. There’s so much wrong with this country’s history and present but it’s also my friend Emile’s birthday and I’ll take my dancing in streets where I can get it
Interdependence day. There’s so much wrong with this country’s history and present but it’s also my friend Emile’s birthday and I’ll take my dancing in streets where I can get it