Author: tomorrow started

Guibert | Satrapi | Tardi | Grandes Planches et Petites Planches

 

last year it was announced that emmanuel guibert had received the prestigious position of head of drawing and etching at the académie des beaux arts. two years prior another cartoonist was also elected to the same post. these two position elections mark the first time in the school’s history that artists from the world of bande-dessinée earned academic leadership positions.

 

 

guibert himself behaves rather atypically for a cartoonist, such that his work extends often off of the drafting table, and at times is not present in the bound product. his work is first and foremost reportage. reintroduction and rearragment of historical documents, biographical passages, and journalistic endeavors, to the greater public.

 

 

 

tooling with mark-marking then becomes a gesture in time-appreciation and time-depreciation, as the main bodies of the work (foreground, middle-ground, background, character) each behave with different autonomies. a beachy bank is not substitutable to the soldier warring along it. In the same way that the soldier to his enemy. and yet they are kindred in kind, just like the bank and the soldier are kindred in matter. the problem of representation and depiction in historical/biographical bd is taken head on by guibert in a rhythmic, systematic (bordering just so in an aesthetic) manner.
the relationships between the bodies goes beyond form alone. it all coexists, and yet is appreciable only when it is acknowledged as belonging to different planes.

 

 

 

marjane satrapi opens up the conversation in a wider manner with her seminal work persepolis.

 

 

autobiographical, belonging to her child-self, returning to far-away and long-away. the line in satrapi’s work is her hand, it is not representative in that sense – it depicts events. in that way then she is able to go wherever she wishes. she has flattened the dimension of time and space such that they are her’s to recover and pry into freely.

 

 

not much more needs to be said here about her work itself. it would be a disservice to the already extensive conversation that has surrounded the comic.

finally we get to tardi. who reaches past guibert’s body of work and satrapi’s persepolis. his work, if we are to continue holding these three together in our arms, neighbors satrapi’s later broderies. As both communicate with the deep past (the past not lived by the author) in an emotional capacity. both authors are trying to assess the past. such that the factual nature of either of their works is structure not content. it braces the emotive potential, the oniric potential of polemical and anecdotal issues, of their works.

 

 

tardi, son and grandson of soldiers, bears little resemblance to the patriot of today. for he knows it is person that makes country. it is then country that severs, massacres person. country is not an identity, it is a set of behaviors imposed on person. war happens upon person, not country.

 

note the slight gray variations in scenery, and even characters

 

tardi’s line is exquisite in its trustworthiness, it is free to wander with surgical accuracy the depth of human expression. he builds (seemingly from day one) a robust vocabulary of line that continues to serve him throughout his career – changing only to improve and clarify, not to reinvent. in that steadfast manner, tardi opens himself up in a way that an american might understand lynchian routine. do the same thing, eat the same food, appreciate the same landscapes, everyday – dream then, whole and free. ultimately tardi is the progenitor of sturdy lines out which limits seldom cross the reader’s mind.

 

 

each of these artists, i want to make clear here, operate with comparable sturdiness. the matter does not change between either. they are cut from the same cloth and it is a wonder that their sensibilities are so closely tender, for as reader it is the great gift of opening any of their books.

 

 

they are cut from the same cloth and it is a wonder that their sensibilities are so closely tender, for as reader it is the great gift of opening any of their books. by lsd

CATEGORIES: art, books

i had to do it to them

we talk about constraints as shape-potential here. we think about what we make, especially when it’s given to us – in a sense. i never wonder about what i don’t do, only what’s yet to be done. so, yesterday i received a package from my printer, and after many mishandled attempts they’ve finally gotten it right. the result speaks for itself. i get to look at my shelf and see the work accomplished so far, with immense pride. it was at one point reviewed by the boss and some crucial feedback led me to tighten my systems down. it pays off i heard. it payed off. breaking into runways. carefully carving the embankment and seeing the stream take shape. managing the estuaries. such and such.

i’m starting a whole new dostoïevski and raking in my good boy points by dutifully tending to my work. so leave me alone. i can’t stand this time you draw for me, let me asphyxiate in my own routine. i’m in full discovery-mode, collection-mode. i got stuff to put away neatly, you’ll see it soon. such and such.

lots of rambling. lots missing here that i’m not saying. but it’s a greater urge than discipline so i ought to leave it here. by lsd

CATEGORIES: musings

Belkacem | Fontaine | C’est normal

today, i really just need this song. it’s a gloomy passage that’s livened by the pleasure of aresky belkacem and brigitte fontaine’s incredible collaboration. their song c’est normal stands in a class of its own, and, since my earliest memories, has been at my side. je ne connais pas cet homme is an achievement in songwriting, pacing, and a testament to all avant-garde album structure.

it is rue barbette, saturday maybe, and i can see maman spraying a cleaning solution to wipe our parquet down. the name has long since escaped me and i hold the smell tightly against my chest – hoping that it remains mine to keep always. when she is done she’ll also use it to wipe our black lacquered china table with the ivory relief safely protected under a thick glass pane. the apartment is entranced by fontaine and belkacem, and for a few brief moments we both sing along to the burning building leading them to their impending/inevitable/obvious peril. it is death that’s found at the bottom of the rubble. the courtyard in my building is cobblestone. mom has painted her new wall pink. i use papier calque to trace my favorite cassette covers rented from the video store. we do this for years i think, then we move. far away. and now we are here. i am happy that is the case. by lsd

CATEGORIES: music

Sakamoto | Borges | Basile | seek further into the intra-place

we lost ryuichi sakamoto this year. he left us with 12, a wrestled arragment of piano pieces that extend into the ultimate vision of his late-career desire – to make music outside of time. the pieces are grounded in the earth, they rustle sound and speak at a geological pace that might fulfill his desire. though his time is the time of all humans. nonhumans, like rocks and tables, behave differently. albums like 12 exist among them. it is with hope that we conclude our thoughts on the work of this brilliant musician.

i wish to return then to a profoundly human time scale. a song, in an otherwise largely instrumental lp, that is so sensitive and intimate it has to be spoken in a handful of languages. a song then for humans, not humanity. ‘fullmoon’ is first and foremost a poem (like all work where capital b beauty is the chief concern) repeated by various speakers in their mother tongues. here goes :

because we don’t know when we will die
we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well
yet everything happens only a certain number of times
and a very small number, really
how many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood
some afternoon that is so deeply a part of your being that you can’t even conceive your life without it?
perhaps four or five times more
perhaps not even that
how many more times will you watch the full moon rise?
perhaps twenty, and yet it all seems limitless

a heartwrenching admittance by a composer yearning to extend the realm of his consciousness by conceiving outside of mortality. sound then as prolongation. sound not as wave but as matter itself. here though we have a complete recroquevillement into the human stratum. the poem operates like a laurie anderson poem, or a björk lyric. it is plainly apparent – the joke is that there is none. the gift is that it is all yours. it is all yours. and if you listen closely you’ll note that each reading gives, by the various language structures, entirely different tones. begging then to forever wonder how well can one text hope to keep its integrity? who’s to say? and yet, ryuichi sakamoto is clear. it is memory that lasts, not our ability to maintain its sanctity. i hope he was well aware of how much reached out to his listener, and how warmly his listener embraced his music. how solid his grasp was on matters of the heart.

 

 

 

continue the journey into intra-place with a link to an actualized, albeit digital, library of babel. here, the inconceivable magnitude of borges’ celebrated thought experiment is contained to within the maddening pace of a single screen at a time. in jonathan basile’s ever so thoughtful digital rendition find also the exploratory purpose that the edifice of the story itself corrupts in the human soul. you are not alarmed, you are here. find firm ground in totality by reducing the effect of the accomplishment. it is not geological scale that dictates this monument, it is the atomic scale. you are here and will never get there. rest within yourself the pride that drives you to peruse the stacks that populate the shelves.

surf the website by clicking here

 

 

proposed floor plan for the library of babel
spectacularly, intersecting hexagons are depicted in async’s remix lp

only then can you wonder truly past situations and phenomena. to affix your gaze toward significance and its healing abilities. by lsd

CATEGORIES: books, music

Salcedo | Genet | Luke | Incision as a two-way street

 

there are moments in notre-dame des fleurs that reverbate. they shake the terrain, and the words become buzzing entities. as gesture turns to caress and exchanges pronounce lullabies genet pierces his way in and out of the novel and the novel being told. i refuse to attempt a reading of his work beyond these observations. i refuse to remember the work through anyone else’s eyes and to accentuate other’s lives into the novel. knowing genet’s novel is simply to have read it an innumberable amount of times and to find in it the same tin soldier, the same procession, the same bed, and the same river bank. in that way the novel remains the same as genet wrote it. it is his to traverse and to tangle/untangle. this is his. i cannot wish more from it, as it expresses wholly the desire of his entrapment. willfully pressed against the most unsavory walls.

 


 

“oh luke, you wild, beautiful thing. you crazy handful of nothin’.”

“hell, he’s a natural-born world-shaker.”

 

 

compare to cool hand luke the condition of captivity. The softness of both genet and luke’s abject desires. in them both i find myself not wanting to go further, neither past the boundaries of what they provide nor into the grating dithering of peoples’ opinion.

salcedo anchors into the seed of this thought reassurance. that as she herself shares of her own work the status of secondary witness to violence. by way of building upon and reconfiguration she pierces the nature of the objects under her gaze, into testaments. their claims to violence solidified by the intervention she musters. enclosed or gouged, the object is preserved – so then is maintained its potential for ongoing intrusion.

 


pressing into the comet, trailing such as it is by lsd

CATEGORIES: art, books

Holly Herndon | PROTO | Extreme Love

 

lily anna hayes reading a text that might surely make timothy morton proud.

it moves me so profoundly.

it is everything but not all.

warm excess materialism.

i sure love it with all my heart..

prompting an unchanged discovery by lsd

CATEGORIES: art, music

Stacy Horn | Bachelard | Sebastião Salgado | ECHO, And Now?

sebastiao salgado kuwait

 

echo, at once dead and very much alive, alone maintains narcissus’ beauty. his claim to self, that, as gaston bachelard puts it, becomes as is reflected. “je veux paraître, donc je dois augmenter ma parure.” (bachelard, l’eau et les rêves, 1942, p. 34).

the gentle stream brims with cosmic rigidity. the bank of clear waters, where things rest and can be thought to have been made, is where they take the form they pictured. a demented slumber. hypnosis. really, it is only in the depths of cloudy/violent/ruthless bodies that material imagination is most potent. there we can truly delve into matter, to find ourselves in the midst of that most gentle and fragile condition: excess. only wade these waters.

wherein do we bridge and travel past form, into matter. to much relief bachelard affirms “la matière est l’inconscient de la forme”. it is within then. materialistic phenomenology allows us this oneiric passage from one into the other.

but echo is also 34 years old. it is the life work, masterpiece, of developer and new yorker stacy holt. where form is the passkey to matter. a message board of few members, it once held great interest for a kind of crowd capable of hanging together. artists, writers, students, politicians, musicians, designers, doers, all under the banner of “and now?” a place to congregate and produce desire. a moment of permanent instigation that has been housed in a thoroughly complex mechanical network. grinding out the signals into something truly malleable that allowed its participants to call and answer to “and now?” in plastic reverie.

indeed.

though it has always been that paste, this originating material of dreaming and entry into, this giving molasses, hardens and brittles when it is driven away from its source. gross doing. mean endeavor. potential in progress left solid. scorched earth, salted terrain, prey to a drying heat. crackling sound, echoing unto itself into a vast murmur.

who decided this?

 

 

because once it’s all finished, and what we bathed in can now be held, all that will be left to ask really will be “and now? “ by lsd

CATEGORIES: art, photography

Phil Hale | Torn, Shredding, Limped

phil hale painting

 

painting works by phil hale.

not included is his portrait of pm tony blair.

 

phil hale painting
phil hale painting

 

fight war not wars ..

 

phil hale painting
phil hale painting

 

fight war not wars ..

 

phil hale painting

 

fight war not wars ..

 

phil hale painting

 

fight war not wars ..

 

phil hale painting

 

 

thanks crass,

that’s very true. by lsd

CATEGORIES: art

S e e t h r o u g h | André Kertesz | Bill Brandt | through distortions

strange work brewing in the mind of animator s e e t h r o u g h..

this latest piece ‘union’ stirs and whirs.

s e e t h r o u g h union

similar exploration of malleable and sinking bodies is the fascinating series ‘distortion’ by photographer andré kertesz.

andre kertesz distortion series


done in the 1930s working with, and around, dada.

the book, while out of print, can be found – and should be sought out.

a few years later photographer bill brandt may have found similar distortion, in a bombed-out staircase.

On days like these, for moments like these. by lsd

CATEGORIES: art, photography

go read a book: or at least see the show – george porcari exhibit at “as is gallery” venice

george porcari x roland barthes – still life with books

george porcari x michelangelo antonioni

THINGS: A STORY… if you are in cali, be sure to visit george porcari’s exhibit at “as is gallery” on 1133 venice blv in los angeles. one of our favorite contemporary artists on the west coast. the show is up from april 22, 2023

george porcari x roberto rossellini

“these still life works were started in 2008 and continue, on and off, to this day. i have been in a deep immersion with books from early on when my dad would regularly take me to the gardena public library – he hated buying books and loved to read. from being an avid reader i went to work at the strand bookstore in new york city in 1980…”

george porcari x john cassavetes

george porcari x joan didion

george porcari x jean luc godard

george porcari x jean luc godard

“i never considered reading something one does strictly for “self-improvement” (god forbid) or even for pleasure, although these may play a role. my primary reason for reading was to enter into a relationship with an author that could, ultimately, transform my brain – in effect one is a different person after reading a book with which one has had a profound emotional connection. that’s what you look for in books – transformation, ecstasy, understanding, communion. these are some of those books in my life…”

george porcari x james joyce

george porcari x charles bukowski

george porcari x cesar vallejo

“while working in the library i would get a cold every new year like clockwork – always during our three week year end vacation. in 2008 i decided to turn my self-isolation to working from home by making still life’s – a genre i had never liked (and still don’t like) in paintings or photography. all the pictures were shot in my apartment using natural light and/or the light available from nearby lamps. the title of the show things: a story comes from georges perec’s wonderful book things: a love story. while i may have removed the word “love” from the title i think love is very much at the heart of the matter when it comes to these particular books, and the still life’s are a small way of paying back and saying thanks.” – george porcari, 2023

some notes by judy zellen on the exhibition including discussions with the artist: “the subject of each photograph in george porcari’s exhibition things: a story is a narrative that can be constructed from the relationship between what appears on the cover of a book and the objects porcari has also placed around it in the image. titled still life with books, each picture is followed by a number and dated 2008-2023. Shot with natural light in porcari’s los angeles apartment, the pictures have wide-screen proportions to reference cinema, yet are tightly cropped to juxtapose the books with carefully arranged commonplace household objects. while many of the volumes are about filmmakers such as jean-luc godard, michelangelo antonioni or roberto rossellini, others are works of literature by authors like joan didion, roland barthes, charles bukowski and georges perec. the choice of books is specific and in many of his photographs, porcari has chosen a book where a black and white portrait of the author or filmmaker is centered in the frame.

though referred to as “still life’s,” the photographs in things: a story resonate as extended portraits that use the title of the book and its cover image as a point of departure. for example, in still life with books 2, porcari chooses the edition of “roland barthes by roland barthes” where the author is depicted in a black and white photograph with his right hand gently placed below his lips as if in a moment of contemplation. the book rests on what appears to be a slim, silver DVD player or radio receiver next to a pair of headphones, a green ceramic bowl with asian calligraphy, as well as other miscellaneous objects that are cut off at the edges.

The focus of Still Life With Books 40 is joan didion’s “the white album.” porcari places the hardback book in an empty freezer and stands it upright on one of the shelves, perhaps in reference to this passage: “we live entirely, especially if we are writers, by the imposition of a narrative line upon disparate images, by the “ideas” with which we have learned to freeze the shifting phantasmagoria which is our actual experience.” during a conversation with porcari at the opening, he intimated that he put the book in the freezer based on his close reading of it.

still life with books 47 features a paperback version of “godard on godard” face up on a table surrounded by various computer cables and hard drives. the bright red lettering on the books cover is echoed by the round top of a pill bottle as well as the red heart in a “i heart…” button that is partially obscured by the aluminum arm of a desk lamp. the black and white photograph surrounded by red text on the cover of the book depicts a couple gazing into each other’s eyes with the woman’s hand gently placed on the man’s neck. underneath the book is a cartoony drawing of a white gloved cartoon hand (perhaps from bugs bunny) on blue material, that appears to be an extension of the man’s arm, adding a touch of humor and irony to his representation.

still life with books 130 contains césar vallejo’s “aphorisms” placed in a grimy sink and shot from above. the book is next to the drain and adjacent to a soapy cup from which an orange handled utensil emerges. again, porcari selects a volume with a black and white portrait of the author with his hand curled around his chin. the grainy image has an affinity with the texture of the sink. why it is placed there is anyone’s guess, but like didion’s book in the freezer, this strange juxtaposition makes for an interesting image.

although porcari’s photographs are filled with cultural icons and references, they are not one liners directed to those in the know. they are intimate and personal images that include books that are significant or have personal meaning for porcari. they are also beautiful and intriguing photographs that invite viewers to think about the bigger picture and perhaps the relationship between their books and the other objects that surround them.”

read read more of judy zellen here … start taking notes people… – by uh

CATEGORIES: art, books

Apple ads: Find out why 1997 won’t be like 1993

apple think different ad campaign 1997 albert einstein

apple think different ad campaign 1997 john lennon and yoko ono

gap kakhis ad campaign 1993 ernest hemingway

gap kakhis ad campaign 1993 miles davis

i never connected the two, but apple’s “think different” campaign by chiat/day LA that came out in 1997 is practically the same as gap’s kakhis campaign that came out in 1993. who would have thought apple and lee claw of chiat would so blatantly rip a campaign form gaps in-house department! granted the kakhis ads where purely on the surface. miles wore kakhis and if you want to be just as cool wear khakis too. granted there was no gap around when miles wore those but that’s a minor note.

apple on the other hand connected to the thinking and culture of those individuals like john and yoko and einstein, and not so much on the appearance… but the idea to take an old cool picture and slap your logo on it – was not only the laziest idea but also one of the most beautiful, it really worked.

still some of my favorite campaigns, because they beautified the streets rather than pollute them. or so I say… by uh

CATEGORIES: history