The sky was a violent crimson; the clouds burst dark, ominous shapes against the massacre, clashing and hurtling with an epic ferocity, dramatised in the classical literature of celestial immortality.
Below, the cinematic pomposity was stripped by savagery and shredded by the grim realisation of human suffering. Mud choked the strained Earth and fissures heaved with asthmatic hysteria, pained by the sickening prospect of cold, clinical ignorance in those who trudged solemnly through the remains of an era; eyes wired shut.
“Company, forward!” the command scarred his fractured mind, terrifying in its hypnotic objectivity, settling in its hyperbolic surrealism. He grasped the first rung of the ladder with white knuckles; a wavering grip which remained firm, despite the appalling uncertainties that lay over the top. The wood was grizzled, splintered and worn but it was concrete, an undeniable truth that could be depended upon in its basic principles of vertical assertion. Under the tattered remains of waterlogged boots, the outcome of this last stand seemed far less entrenched. His future was opaque; the continuation of existence as dependable as the marshy sieve of shrapnel, faecal vomit and scattered corpses that sluiced through channels created by his curling toes.
Whatever did… read more
When Lang, Roberts, Rosenman and Kornfeld sorted to bring what would become the world’s greatest music festival to 600 acres in Bethel New York, it was to be an “interesting business venture”; a mediocre celebratory affair that would produce a reasonable profit.
But when 500,000 young idealists descended on the field, any notion of a fledgling capitalist endeavour was scrapped in favour of peace, love and music. The hysterical residents of Bethel filed eighty lawsuits, a “state of emergency” was declared and National Guard “enforcement” narrowly averted. What remains unique about Woodstock ’69 however is that the human spirit overcame the hurdles of pig-headed ignorance, epitomizing the best of an entire decade in three drug-addled days. There was no merchandise, no time allotments (see The Who’s epic 25-song set list that kicked off at 4AM or Hendrix’s apologetic era-defining performance as the weekend drew to a close) and most importantly, no sense of hostility.
The same cannot be said for Woodstock ’99. The concept of “free love” which had come to symbolize the original festival was patented and packaged by conglomerates determined to cash-in on the previous success. Where Jefferson Airplane had preached unity as the sun rose… read more
"The Gypsies themselves have no heroes. There are no myths of a great liberation, of the founding of the 'nation,' of a promised land. They have no Romulus and Remus, no wandering, battling Aeneas.They have no monuments or shrines, no anthem, no ruins. And no Book" -Bury Me Standing: The Gypsies and Their Journey, Isabel Fonesca, (89).
Scapino dropped onto the splintered stage, now an unsteady raft floating down a narrow mountain pass. The stagecoach exploded behind him against the rocks. The Doctor's horse, who had veered with the road, came back to the shore to watch them drift away. The acrobat looks into the vellum sack. His expression hardens in dismay. "What?" The Captain asks. "Is it not the gold?" Scapino turns the bag upside down, and Dottore's book falls out. Capitano walks to the edge of the raft and stares back at the wrecked coach, as if looking for glints of their lost fortune. "You grabbed the wrong sack," he says in disbelief.
COMMEDIA SCENE THREE: book of lazzi CHARACTERS: Scapino, youing acrobat and theif, CAPITANO: Braggart soldier. SCENE: 1679, Mountains near Bergamo. The comici malfati (a disreputable band of improvisational actors) were rehearsing a new commedia scenario,… read more
I felt my stomach plummet with fear as I stood outside the door. My breathing was fast and unsteady, and I could feel my palms sweating in my clenched fists. My very insides seemed frozen with horror and anxiety. Then, somewhere in my mind, I remembered my mother's last words; 'Stay strong, my love, stay strong'. I was suddenly filled with a new and somewhat poignant acceptance of what was to come. I felt a silent tear run down my face as I raised a shaking hand, and opened the door.
The room was full of people. They all looked up at me in fear as I entered the room, then, one by one, looked down again, and continued with their solicitous thoughts. They were mostly adults, and they all sat in rows on battered, wooden chairs. I could instantly tell they were here for the same reason as me. Their shaved heads, battered faces and fearful expressions told me they too were here to die.
The walls were dull and bare, and I could see mould forming in the corners of the room and across the ceiling. There were no windows, and I thought to myself, this is it.… read more
Well being me I just lost the whole of what I wrote when I clicked publish! Haha. Lets start again.
Ok so Toddington Manor was quite an exciting discovery. I'd always seen the pinnacles of the tower from the road over the tops of trees when we took the road to Oxford sometimes. I thought it was a church spire or something but as we drove down church lane and and discovered this impressive gothic church I could tell it wasn't what I had seen from the road. We got out the car and had a look around the graveyard and the outside of the eerie church. It was then looking over the knee height wall we suddenly saw the massive, impressive, decaying gothic hulk of Toddington Manor.
It seriously was a big surprise to find such a huge Manor practically on my doorstep after having lived here all my life. It was dilapidated and run down and obviously empty and shut up. A sad spooky place. It is so impressive because it has so many things going on at once. A huge tower which was what I had seen over the tree tops, not unlike those of Oxford Colleges, and there is a… read more
Introduction
Contemporary artists today are familiar with the new cultural developments, and new technology, which most adopt in order to produce work that can relate to the times we live in. Some might describe it as a new spin to historic struggles using up to date science and technology. However, one must ask what is the role of Art Historians in this age? The aim can be seen as to produce a critical view of the new trend developing in Art using art history disciplines. An interdisciplinary take linking ideas and concepts drawn from other areas will help produce viable argument for the positive aspects of new media art which is somewhat neglected by some historians. Inclusion of new media art within the context of art history will help establish roots for evolving contemporary art. However, one aspect of Contemporary art which has been largely overlooked by most Art Historians until recently is indeed the impact of the Science and Technology. Today we take into consideration texts like Walter Benjamin’s “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”, and Jack Burnham’s “Beyond Modern Sculpture”, however this might not have been the case for some traditionally trained Historian’s who… read more
(The following will provide some background to some recent writings I will posst very soon. Please excuse the length of it, but there is so much to tell.)
Chahlie Downs is telling us a ghost story. It’s January, so he is wearing a yellow rain slicker and a worn set of cloth gloves. His dark skin has the tone of obsidian against the brassy blue backdrop of the sky. We are absorbed in the story and at 81 years young, he has earned his audience.
My sister Teresa and I travelled to Fort Adams, Mississippi on this weekend specifically to see Chahlie, and to take some pictures in an area we spent much of our youth. Although I had made the 3-hour trip from New Orleans a few months ago, it had been a couple of years since Teresa had been back.
Like Fort Adams, Chahlie is a relic. He has lived in this tiny corner of Mississippi his entire life, save for the two years he spent in New Orleans working the tough riverfront wharfs as a longshoreman in the early 1950s. It is place where time has stood still. Remove the latest human influx – deer hunters –… read more
Croome Court Ok guys I am going to tell you about my favourite place in the world and explain to you why, hopefully. I hope you find it interesting and don’t get lost in my rambling. As many of you know if you have a glance through my photos, lots are taken at Croome Court.Croome Landsape Park is a landscaped country park surrounding Croome Court in Worcestershire, England. It was Lancelot 'Capability' Brown's first complete landscape design, begun in 1751 for George Coventry, 6th Earl of Coventry. It is said that the landscape held so many species it was second to Kew. The mansion house was also designed by Brown and is a rare example of his architectural work. It is of a Palladian style.I discovered it properly when going on a bike ride with my best friend. We came up to the London Arch which sure is impressive. From there on I was hooked. I started taking the dog walkies there, coming in from every entrance the park provided, exploring every bit I could, discovering the hidden gems, because Croome Court is hidden. Thousands of people pass through the park without even knowing each day. The M5 was SLAMMED right… read more
January, 1864. Somewhere in Missouri.The pond, as it froze, made jelly-fish shapes, bubbles trapped atdifferent levels. The ice cracked with deep, reverberating soundslike something ancient was sleeping underneath. He held a loosenotebook of papers in his hand. There were footprints drawn on thepage where he was supposed to step, and Malwise's stick figures witharrows circling around the hips and elbows. Words like “jengar”underlined. Portugese. It was the last package of notes that had beendelivered to him at the confederate camp, before he had shot GeneralSimesen in front of his soldiers. Milton Malwise, an old abolitionistfriend of his from Boston, had entrusted his 14 year old son (anEdgar Allan Poe enthusiast and ameteur cryptographer) with concealingtheir coded messages within their correspondence. Milton in turn gotthe messages from the Northern general for which Malwise, Spavento,and a young Scott named McOaken worked. The young Roger's method, forthe past two years, had been to bury the cypher-text in pages ofnonsense, random observations about ancient history and literature. The longer their correspondence lasted, and the more convolutedRoger's encryption schemes became, the harder it was for the Captainto tell where he was supposed to look for actual instructions. Heswayed back and forth, breathing slowly, leafless branches… read more
In 2005, at the MTV Europe Music Awards a band which had climbed the charts to number one that year appeared on stage as they had appeared in their videos, in Animation. Gorillaz is a virtual animated band created in 1998 by the lead singer of the 90s British band “Blur” Damon Albarn. The four members of the new band were presented as cartoon characters created by the Artist and co-creator of the comic books “Tank Girl” Jamie Hewlett, and that is how they performed in 2005’s MTV awards. It was their first live performance and they used a Musion Eyeliner System to project the four cartoon characters on stage in 3D in a form of a hologram. It was the world’s first 3D hologram performance and it did attract much deserved music and technology news coverage. The two artists Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett managed to bring together Music, Painting and Poetry (lyrics) in one performance and present them as one entity to countless spectators. In 2007 they worked together again in adaptation of the classic Chinese literature from the Ming Dynasty “Journey to the West”. Monkey: Journey to the West achieved critical acclaims at its world premiere in… read more
My name is Salam. I am 12 years old and I live in Gaza City, at the north end of the strip. On most weekdays, I go to school. At the moment our school is open, although there is talk of the teachers going on strike. Other government workers have already gone on strike, mostly over lack of food and living conditions. Dad says that when he voted for Hamas, he thought life would be better; but it isn’t. It’s worse now than it ever was.
There’s always something going on in our house. Aunt Aya and mum are always cooking in the kitchen; dad is usually locked in heated discussion with uncle Abbas; he does not think Hamas have lived up to their promises. They were meant to improve our lives, help our schools and provide work for people. None of that has happened, dad says. And now we are living off stale bread and water. Recently not even the bread is as good as it used to be. Uncle Abbas says that it’s not Hamas’ fault; it’s the Israelis. They block in our land and will not allow any trade or communication with the outside world. We… read more
