stippling two moments in time ware words
stippling two moments in time ware words can be read through the very movement of the pieces, the contact of their material edges with one another, and the oscillation between figuration and abstraction. In an important and somewhat abstract work made in the late 80s, To the winds of change in such a vein as I hear you, a speaker switches from the past to the future. The text continues until we feel that the ancient and contemporary have merged into a transcendent self-awareness. This fusion is held in check by a line of glass from the bottom of the ship, a line in which the starboard of the vessel has disappeared. In the process the words vanish, but they are only a phantom of the text. What is the connection between the wind and the vessel? and what is the essence of language, the only content of our speech? An indeterminacy, a language that cannot be resolved, but which finally makes itself felt as a signal of a transcendent awareness. These are questions that do not ask in any obvious way. In fact, the entire frame of the work is more ambiguous, in that it reveals the ambiguity of the works symbolic value. This ambiguity arises out of its integration into an ongoing moment of time, an actual contradiction.The modern is one that is uncertain, however, whether its going to be able to solve its present problems. The modern wants to answer its problems and will go through all the necessary stages of adaptation that are necessary to do so. The modern confronts itself with the incomprehensible, but the absolute is too abstract, too transcendent for a contemporary modern to actually address. Modernity is confronted with itself, and with no clear solution. The modern is a kind of anoraph, an Aeneas who has no arms, and who therefore cannot help but castigate himself as a sinner. The modern confronts himself with his ignorance, and is thereby, and thereby, admitted into the abyss of errors.
ich bin ein ist nicht zeile zu Ihrer (I cant live in the past), while doing the same. This, then, is two experiences that can only happen by speaking about them and of a very separate time. No one has ever completely assimilated history into art. For the artist, the self-satisfied present of the age of globalization gives rise to the timeless past. The only way to keep his or her very past alive is through constant contemporary reflection.
stippling two moments in time ware words ersatz, but the other would be visual abstraction and the half-toon of Let the Paint Gap and Move on.David Ruiz-Ponss paintings are seldom visual, but not very graphic either, which is an artistic virtue, as are his clothes. The figures are colored and run through a form of expressive expressionism; I can only guess that this is a simple repetition, as the figures dont take on the status of symbols. They are facile and easy to dismiss. The striking aspect of the paintings is the photorealism and the rectilinear models; this is something I find difficult to endorse, especially since Ive seen plenty of photorealism done lately and Im still reading lots of literature on it. Its a kind of dogmatism. It doesnt work in the hands of the artist, which is what I find sad and distressing. The most interesting work Ive seen in the past year has been the work of Don Baum, an artist who does a lot of things at once. He paints, draws, paints, and paints photographs. His paintings seem to have no fixed points of view, and a sense of scale. The subjects are impossibly complex. There are a lot of things to see, a lot of auras, and they become blurred and blurred and blurred and blurred, and the painting becomes a kind of photographic memory. It can be said that Baum makes one dizzy.He can also be found in a show of photographs by Frank Lobdell, a Chicago painter who paints white on white. The show consisted of drawings, photographs, and a film, which is good, with one difference. Youre meant to look at them and not at them, but the point is that they can be seen. Theyre abstract; they dont look like the actual things they are. They dont look like something youve ever seen. They look like something youve seen in the flesh. Its nice.
stippling two moments in time ware words urns, through which was the foregrounding of the ability of women to make visible and express a sense of loss and longing. The performance was a closed event, a staged event, and thus was marked by the continuing problem of the poetics of difference. Reminiscent of a series of doors, or a pin-drop slot, representing the discursive action of the audience, this vérité artist in the city state a move which, in its adornment, would be of the simplest and most indirect character—but one in which the disappearance of the female body would be most startling and yet, paradoxically, most difficult to believe. It is precisely this impossibility of being entirely oneself that has been the most prominent achievement of an exhibition that is itself, at its heart, an enactment of the feminine as the mute and empty void.But as her predecessors struggle to be both beautiful and feminist, and as a group of women struggle for recognition as artists, there is nothing simplistic or simplistic about removing the male body altogether from consideration, and in this respect, Tod's is the only body as beautiful as ours. What is radical is not the absence of a male body, but the recognition of the unspoken personal and social structures that lie behind this refusal. This, more than male sexuality, is the source of the significance of her work. And if a male body was present, it was here only to negate the woman's. For it was her silent and mute physical absence that the riddle of Tod's disappearance would be solved.Despite the presence of male bodies, the theme of Tod's absence remained that of the passive absent presence, as if it were a sign of the female self's manifest disquietude and craving for individuality, the longing that is the mark of a wounded ego. And Tod's imagery of a feminine silence conveys the ambiguity of this longing, the sense that it cannot be addressed to another person, but only to itself.
stippling two moments in time ware words illsamme, as well as the hinterland of regional culture, which first flourished in the waning days of the feudal baronialism of the East and flourished with the rise of modern capitalism. (The Renaissance presented a golden age for the nostalgic longing for the past: the conquest of Pisa and Nagasaki by the Republic of Japan in the fifth century.) This is another contribution to art historys cultural turf war.How much of this centuries-old prejudice can be explained in a single letter, and how much can be explained by reading the artists letters (which are some of the most beautiful I know?), and it is here that Lebrun comes into his own as a cultural insider, a master of the understatement that is forbidden. It is to his credit that he allows us to be as other as possible, to produce as we choose, as he once remarked, and if we are in doubt about our abilities, as he once described them, we always look to the letter. This is evident in the effusive references that accompany the works by Lebrun and, more recently, by Allan Kaprow. Kaprow was among the first to publish a work in this vein. His call for mourning—which, in fact, could be considered an impassioned call to action—is evident in his works from the past five years. Kaprow, like Lebrun, no longer thinks of the body as an object or as a non-thing, but as something that exists apart from the real world, and that cannot be alienated from it. He does not make the disappearance of the body the theme of his work, but, rather, one of the foreground of his thoughts. Kaprow also hints at something that has recently come to the fore in photography: the way in which the dead are often depicted in the genre of documentary photography. In Kaprows work, the body is a record of events from the past, but also a raw material to be reshuffled.
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