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Saturday, October 31, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Long Nights of Pasty Faced Tunes Echo in Rooms
Monday, October 26, 2009
Come With Me to the Edge
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-Stefan Pashov
Friday, October 23, 2009
The Inside Out Building
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Though the neoclassical-slapped-on facade of the Lloyds Building in London is Howard Roark's (Ayn Rand's) worst nightmare, the water pipes and electrical power conduits on the outside of the building do so much more than dazzle tourists with a mediocre knowledge of architecture (someday I hope to be that tourist!) It also opens up a lot of useful space in the interior of the building. Leave it to an industrial designer to make such a functional beauty.
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top photo cred: Stanton M. Woods
Thursday, October 22, 2009
So Many Directions
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Philip-Lorca diCorcia
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Brent Booth, 21 years old, Des Moines, Iowa
"During the late 1970s, during diCorcia's early career, he used to situate his friends and family within fictional interior tableaus, that would make the viewer think that the pictures were spontaneous shots of someone's everyday life, when they were in fact carefully staged and planned in beforehand. He would later start photographing random people in urban spaces all around the world. When in Berlin, Calcutta, Hollywood, New York, Rome and Tokyo, he would often hide lights in the pavement, which would illuminate a random subject in a special way, often isolating them from the other people in the street."
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Jacob Escobedo
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Crustacean Island
There could be an island paradise
where crustaceans prevail.
Click, click, go the lobsters
with their china mitts and
articulated tails.
It would not be sad like whales
with their immense and patient sieving
and the sobering modesty
of their general way of living.
It would be an island blessed
with only cold-blooded residents
and no human angle.
It would echo with a thousand castanets
and no flamencos.
By Kay Ryan
where crustaceans prevail.
Click, click, go the lobsters
with their china mitts and
articulated tails.
It would not be sad like whales
with their immense and patient sieving
and the sobering modesty
of their general way of living.
It would be an island blessed
with only cold-blooded residents
and no human angle.
It would echo with a thousand castanets
and no flamencos.
By Kay Ryan
Love Resigns
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Excerpt from Blood Wedding
By Lorca
Beggar Woman:
that moon's going away, just when they's near. they won't get past here. the river's whisper and the whispering tree trunks will muffle the torn flight of their shrieks. It has to be here, and soon. I'm worn out. The coffins are ready, and white sheets wait on the floor of the bedroom for heavy bodies with torn throats. let not one bird awake,let the breeze, gathering their moans in her skirt, fly with them over black tree tops or bury them in soft mud.
Oh that moon! that moon!
Moon:
But let them be a long time a-dying. So the blood will slide its delicate hissing between my fingers. look how my ashen valleys already are waking in longing for this fountain of shuddering gushes!
Yerma:
I didn't come to these four walls to resign myself. When a cloth binds my head so my mouth wont drop open, and my hands are tied tight in my coffin-then, then I'll resign myself
Sunday, October 4, 2009
For the Times I Spent, Trying to Fill Small Spaces
perhaps we will meet again
along an edge, or below a bottle cap.
but until then, an anagram poem,
because Love always has to be hidden for a time.
and sometimes Love must resign itself altogether.
[Her]
Yodel Sillies, sonny
only solely inside
Lonely, Noisy Slides
along an edge, or below a bottle cap.
but until then, an anagram poem,
because Love always has to be hidden for a time.
and sometimes Love must resign itself altogether.
[Her]
Yodel Sillies, sonny
only solely inside
Lonely, Noisy Slides
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