Monday, April 30, 2012

An Overseas Blog Notices How Much Fun the Rothkoesque Group on Flickr Is

And selects one of my Lego Rothkos for the small gallery accompanying the article.

38 John Mayer Songs in 7 Minutes



God, I love so many of these.

I thought it was funny the other night when Elise Testone performed a Hendrix song that Steven Tyler told her was a wonderful rendition--but then told her that no one would recognize it since it was an obscure Hendrix tune.

 Well, she was voted off.

But I don't think it was because she picked an "obscure" song.  When Elise said that night, " I think more people than you realize know that song" she didn't clarify.

I think most people know the song she did through the John Mayer cover. I'm guessing that's where she first heard that song. Okay, maybe not her since she does love sixties music and has a great Janis Joplin up her sleeve.

 Even Randy didn't seem to know the John Mayer cover.

 Now that I think of it I have never heard any American Idol judge ever mention John Mayer. And it's unusual that the judges don't style-compare or name-check someone that contemporary and that great at SOME point.

Maybe Randy didn't know the cover either.

I can understand Elise not wanting to name drop John Mayer when Hendrix's song writing genius is being lauded. I mean she already had a problem with appearing perhaps a bit more thirtysomething than twentysomething, and that would have just put another demographic target on her head.

She was doomed anyway.

I think she'd been in the bottom virtually every week.

Oh well. She'll always have that wonderful Led Zep moment of hers. I can still hear her voice on that in my head.

I suspect she's only a few seasons away from being the roughest of New Jersey housewives though.

 She clearly has that piss and vinegar thing going on.

 I bet she knows how to fight with a crowbar.

 I bet she's kicked a lot of girl ass.

my school pic 2012

my school pic 2012 by William Keckler
my school pic 2012, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

paranoid self-portrait

i'm so damn paranoid! (pareidolic self-portrait in peacock feathers)

i did a pareidolic self-portrait of my paranoia in peacock feathers (free use photo base).

I think Arcimboldo was my inspiration.

Someone Who Reads This Blog

Someone who reads this blog regularly has their address come up only as "Gehenna." No country is listed and the rest of the information like IP or IP mask is spookily blank. Should I be worried?

Aplomb, Compsure, Avoirdupois and All That Crap in the Face of Death

Not sure if Tori Amos is implying Anastasia survived (along the lines of the many pretenders).

The family was murdered in Ekaterinburg in 1918. I guess this album came out before Anastasia's remains were identified--along with those of the young tsarevitch--in 2007 (with DNA confirmation).(Just checked: 1994! Really? That far back?)

I love Massie's book, which is cited at the end of this account of the dignified end of the Romanovs.

It's as if they were lining up to have their photograph taken. So orderly and composed, with such attention to who should sit where and that the proprieties of class and function be signified in the arrangement of their bodies at the moment of death.

If this account is trustworthy. And it probably is.

My Lego Art Blogged Over at SciBricks

Cool site.

The blogger figured out it was a digital creation and not a Lego one.

But maybe someone will get inspired and build a 3-D one--if it hasn't already been done (probably has).

The great thing about digital "Lego" (soi-disant) is the wide range of color matching the programs allow.

In real Legos, you'd be stuck so often looking for exactly this or that shade of aqua...or even black. When you're Legoizing a Manet that has thirty-eight shades of black, you're not going to find that in plastic.

Unless you're a genius of controlled lighting, etc. which would mean each reproduction would take a year instead of ten minutes.

Let's Learn the Alphabet with Tao Lin

Here are the top pre-loaded Tao Lin searches on American Google as of 3:11 A.M. E.S.T. 4/30/2012.

This could function as a sort of Tao Lin CliffsNotes for somebody who wants to fake proficiency on Tao Lin. Or it could be used as a syllabus or primer for those wanting to genuinely research the buzz nodes or nodal buzz of Tao Lin.

I like to imagine the CliffsNotes for Tao Lin's novels as being written by himself and consisting entirely of photographs of various food the fortysomething (probably when the Notes will be released) Lin will be eating while "writing" these "notes." These cell phone photos of concrete objects which happen to be food, will mostly show various benthic edibles (cultivated in Japan by Grower of Depressing Foods Enterprises Diversified--aka GOD-FED, C.E.O. Tao Lin of course). The phone taking these pics of benthic food genetically altered to grow in light-controlled warehouses will actually be implanted in Tao Lin's forehead at that stage in his career, hardwired into his brain to save time and make him more efficient. So his every thought will be a text to multiple websites, rendering his brand more accessible while still somehow maintaining a soupcon of intimacy in the form of randomly generated thought-drawings of hamsters and other winsome creatures as neon-outline doodles included in all "personalized" communication. Thanks to mathematical algorithms created by Lin admirers at M.I.T., no two hamster drawings will ever be the same. Hence, the intimacy.

Even though people will secretly guess that the personalized hamster drawings are based on a mathematical algorithm developed by Lin friends at "probably M.I.T.," they will cherish their neon outline hamster doodles and sometimes take pictures of themselves with them and then post these pics on Tumblr in the middle of the night, hoping that Tao Lin will see them waifishly holding their neon outline hamster doodles and possibly even daring to hope that a personal recognition of this affiliation of the heart will appear in their posting's "Notes" in the form of a like or even a sanctifying reblogging by Lin of the aforementioned waif photo, using one of his 833 Tumblrs in existence at that date. And this too will sometimes happen, thrilling people. Because there will be another algorithm for "surprise random communication" with strangers estimated to be likely candidates to make at least 12.8 Tao Lin references online in a fourteen month period. But nobody will know these figures, so the algorithmic intimacy will seem warm and "familiar" on the rare occasions it occurs.

Too bad Lin's retired the t-shirt promos (or has he?)  since a number of these individual single letter Google prompts would look nice as black text on white tees.

But then Google would probably sue anyone who did that for using their site design in a marketable product. You'd have to hand draw the lines or something.






Sunday, April 29, 2012

behave

behave by William Keckler
behave, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

the moon ripped in two

tonight from my backyard

Joey Lynn Offutt

The episode of Disappeared on Joey Lynn Offutt is on INVESTIGATION DISCOVERY right now.

I'm not sure if they'll run it again later today.

But if you want to see it, now is the time.

Well, if you're Eastern Standard Time in the U.S. anyway. Soz.

Imperial Six-Twenty Snap Shot

here's the camera i found at the yard sale the other day. not mine but someone else's. isn't it cute?

Georgia Dare Kennedy

I was looking at some artwork by a young artist, Georgia Dare Kennedy.

I thought a lot of it was great stuff.

It said on one site she's influenced by Quakerism. I have met a number of artists (usually poets) who are either Quakers or who have been strongly influenced by it--read the seminal texts, subscribe to the philosophy, etc.

One of the few churches I attended was a Quaker church. Except I attended the gay church that was held in the Quaker church, because Quakers were the only ones willing to allow a gay church to share their space.

I loved that she had one dollar drawings she sold over the course of several years.

I have no idea what she looks likes.

But I expect to encounter her art again. That feeling.

Charles Henri Ford (New York, 1999)

i've been having fond thoughts of charles henri ford. i remember how happy i was when i'd appear in nexus magazine next to his stuff. i guess he was in his nineties even then. i love the new york ghetto swag of his art...especially his visual art but everything. he's another one of those centenarians like beatrice wood whose life makes me wish i could live forever (or to 100, same difference) postscript: i thought he had made it to 100 but it was more like 89. his sister died in 2009 and she was 98. his partner was pavel tchelitchew, who I had always thought was hot. and loved the homoerotic in much of his work. I didn't even know they were lovers--or were until T.'s relatively early death in the middle of the twentieth century.

The Young and Evil by Charles Henri Ford & Parker Tyler

The Young and Evil by Charles Henri Ford & Parker Tyler by STML
The Young and Evil by Charles Henri Ford & Parker Tyler, a photo by STML on Flickr.

two funny tendentious reviews on Amazon. 

 
A dreadful novel, pretentious, arty and clearly indebted to Gertrude Stein in its alliterative passages of nonsensical phrases. The characters are cardboard, the plot non-existent and good chunks are completely unintelligible. Saying all that, I found the book fascinating as a historical document of gay life in New York of the early 30's. Village Bohemia, gay bars, the drag balls, cruising on Riverside Drive, gay bashing, rent parties are all here, and written by those who lived it. Those looking for sex scenes will be deeply disappointed because none exist...just the fact that the male characters went to bed or paired off with each other was risqué enough to put terror in the hearts of potential publishers. But as an illustration of George Chauncey's Gay New York none better could be found, an authentic document of the times. Worth every affected paragraph.
Comment | 
 
Was this review helpful to you? OMFG YES
 
4 of 6 people found the following review helpful
I wouldn't say 'dreadful' September 30, 2006
Format:Paperback
I read this book during a binge of early 20th century gay fiction and I wouldn't say it was 'dreadful.' If you're talking esoterics, Ronald Firbanks is the bloke you want! Wyndham Lewis was equally unrewarding. There was at least some humor in The Young and Evil, when the protag pukes on the straight woman! I laughed. The copy they interlibrary loaned me was printed in Paris on handmade paper--you probably won't find anything so opulent on Amazon . . . I digress, I caught more of a Joycean feeling than Stein but I can't stand that woman!

oh. my Lego Rothkos

are getting around tumblr.

here's one which I link because you should look at all the other stuff this guy or gal posted...it's visually gorgeous...I followed immediately: http://expectorant.tumblr.com/post/21844499449

I couldn't figure out how my one Lego Rothko was up over 800 visits so fast and then I figured out someone had Tumbld me.

I am not on Tumblr much lately and sort of miss it.

Someday I will create a new Tumblr just for art though and try to disseminate there.

But I have too many things in the queue right now for that.

New Particle Discovered

I clicked over to the Language Log in my blogroll when I saw the announcement of a new particle.

Woot. (I think.)

An entirely new type of particle has been discovered by scientists using the world’s largest and most powerful particle accelerator, the Large Hadron Collider (LHC), near Geneva, Switzerland.
The discovery of the new particle, called “neutral Xi_b^star baryon,” was made by the CMS experiment, one of six separate particle physics experiments running at the LHC. It was announced Friday by Symmetry Magazine.

Here's the announcement from Symmetry ("CMS collaboration discovers its first new particle", Symmetry Breaking 4/27/2012):

Members of the CMS collaboration announced the experiment’s first discovery of a new particle today. In a paper submitted to Physical Review Letters, the CMS collaboration described the first observation of an excited, neutral Xi_b baryon, a particle made up of three quarks, including one beauty quark.

and then i realized

and then i realized by William Keckler
and then i realized, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

cyclops madonna with child

oldskool

oldskool by William Keckler
oldskool, a photo by William Keckler on Flickr.

strange worker (for peter milton)

Poems from the Past

While I was mining Lee's brain for help with the installation of the Hasselblad program, I was idly paging through a folder of poems from years ago.

I probably have tens of thousands of unpublished poems, and probably 99.9999 percent of those should stay unpublished.

I was amused by the weirdness of many of these poems and could see how various conversion experiences in my reading had influenced different stages of my "development" (cough).

I often belonged to this or that "great gossamer gnat-winged school of poetry." What can I say, there were a lot of popular schools like that in the past few decades.

Here are a few poems from one thin folder that probably jump around in the decade when I was in my twenties.

I guess I like elements in these or I wouldn't bother typing them.

I think the first poem actually was published somewhere but hell if I can remember the name of the magazine. I guess I think visually, because I can see the mag texturally in my mind but can't read the title there. I tend to think it was out West somewhere, West coast but not California. Washington, maybe?

And yet, reading these poems, I feel a weird consonance with this person, who is no longer me. Many of the ideas in the poems are ideas I still hold and they seem to spookily predict the sort of art I'm interested in making now.

I'm used to thinking of my life as marked by so many shifts and changes, and a lack of consistency, but maybe because of my age now I can actually see there are certain ideational strains which are part of my core belief system, weird as it may be.


A FEW PAINTINGS

The useless clarity after grief
in every room of the house.
A woman combing her long waterfall of hair,
or a boy cleaning a Chinese pear bowl
without inhabiting his body.
The wedding to matter
the soul somehow didn't anticipate.
Is it here we finally touch craft?
The human feeling is only a small part
of art, which is the great irony
you can comb and comb out
forever, as black lucent strands
of someone merely sitting there.
To be present and absent.
That's the ghostly nature
of the soft machine, her hands
that hold a pen. The smile
his dead lover hides behind
at our attention, the incorporeal.




EROS, AS THE GREEKS HAD

The underhanded shifts
climbing the weird soul you stumble
through though ancient speech seduce
deep sleep I want to suck
from you all the seeing in your waking life
so the long ears prick full of blood
seem to blush with knowing
something I want of you
you have swallowed, blind
        warm nutrition, exceptional
qualities like innocent surprise
that surprise me most, deepest
falling together in an earth
where gravest sex is weeping lies





YOU INFECT WITH

The idea that nature "demonstrates"
Or other types of foolishness
Suiting a technological gypsy
Sleeping with head on arm

What seems is a merger

Streaked with comets
A sinkhole in the mind, you said
Where music went
I followed

The weird evolution of troubadours

Who serve neither state nor time
But eat its energy
Figures waiting in the language
Whose bodies already exist

Out-of-sync, they cannot enter

Can't touch me as you do
Long and snakelike energy

Of your disembodied gaze

All of you, endless parade of borrowers





(untitled?)


rough limbs of trees
corrosive or injurious
(mind reading

knit]
plants
rush family

bottoming, esp. by supernatural means

(a unit in Greek verse

total number of
possible beliefs

your deceased person's fitness
to make amulets

to abbreviate the desires



That Hasselblad Freeware

That free download image manipulation proggie, Phocus, is amazing.

My art has never looked so good as in this formatting, and the possibilities with manipulation are increased enormously.

But I'm trying to figure it out without resorting to tutorials, which means I'm mostly screaming at my computer.

The way it enlarges the art without loss of resolution makes me wonder if it has some of those interpolation subprograms (or a different pixel algorithm; they're developing others now) running in there. If so, they're damn good ones.

I can't wait to truly figure out all the features. Probably I will read blogs where people talk about their experiments with it and eventually maybe even the tutorials. YouTube usually has decent ones (that's how I learned most of the little bit of GIMP I know). Gimp is also freeware and great stuff.

Also, I'm a little worried it's destabilizing my computer. And there are the mysterious shut-downs, which I equate with software hissy fits. But my Hewlett-Packard primitive proggie does the same thing. Usually when I'm working too fast or don't wait for something to fully load. So there it's usually my own fault with pace. Here it might be some sort of incompatibilities.

It can do some weird shit to images. I wanted to do screen saves about a dozen times just playing with torquings of some of my Legographs of Muybridge and Chuck Close.

I think it's so cool that Chuck Close turned to the Jacquard loom as an early Industrial Revolution version of pixels.


Had Briefly Thought

about contacting the show Disappeared about doing a show on the disappearance of poet Craig Arnold.

But he disappeared on a small Japanese island.

And while the show might cover disappearances that seemingly trek out of America down to Mexico or up to Canada, they seem pretty committed to disappearances that happen in this country (I'm sure the budget of the show would be considerably inflated if they shifted that focus).

But this is all moot now.

 Because I found an article stating that a search and rescue effort had determined that Arnold had suffered a leg injury and had fallen from a cliff of a height that would assure instant death.

They claim to have found his trail but nothing more than that was claimed. While his body was neither recovered nor even sighted, this was given out with a tone of finality.

I guess this was intended to give closure to his loved ones.

 But there will still be people who wonder, no doubt.

I read one of Arnold's poems written to his partner just now and found it moving. No, not just because he's dead. I would have found it moving even if he were still alive.

 I also read that his partner, Rebecca Lindenberg, had a book come out just last month.  

Love, an Index is a memoir of their love in poetry.

Shit, Phocus is Free?

Was just reading Hasselblad's interesting history. The importance of the meeting with George Eastman in America, the wartime efforts, the tortured experiments and attempts to come to terms with digital, the ascendancy of Shiro and what remains today. And I found out their image manipulation program PHOCUS is a free download at the Hasselblad site. So I'm so there! I bet it beats the four I use right now.

yes

i'm getting my period.

because i'm listening to a lot of Tori Amos lately.

I Dreamt

I dreamt I either lost my camera or that it was stolen. This felt like the death of a child. It was horrible. This might be because I am trying to get myself to commit to a long book that I've been mentally outlining for weeks and I dread the physical labor involved and the fact that I know I will probably have to stop working with images (other than lexical images) during that time. I don't know why I can't do both at the same time but something tells me I can't. I should approach this book with joy and delight since it was something given to me in a dream and could be something people might enjoy. But I just see it is work and intimidation right now. I need to convert it to the spirit of play. Which is how I get obsessed with something. If I regard it as play.

In the dream, I was heartsick for my lost camera. It wasn't the real camera I have. Because I still had one of the lenses hanging from around my neck, even though the camera was lost. I kept touching the lens like a touchstone in the dream, imagining that the camera might magically return. You could change the lenses on this one (big surprise my dream gave me a higher end camera). If I could buy any camera I'm not sure which one I would buy. I mean if we're not talking hit the lottery rich where you can buy 19th century monsters and afford to buy and prepare glass plates and all that fun stuff. Are Hasselblads very expensive?  I've fallen in love with a lot of photos taken by Hasselblads. Maybe that's a fluke. Maybe that's a relatively cheap camera. I can't believe the effects Bongo Fury gets and he uses a Leica D-Lux 5 but that's more about Bongo's genius than his (or her?) camera. On the rare occasions I go looking for cameras online, I don't look at expensive cameras. I look at the funny oddities of lomography or the lo-fi, the toy cameras, etc.  I should probably just make my own pinhole cameras. But I don't even have discretionary income to develop film and I'm too old and too health-conscious now to do the developing myself. It will still need to be dropped off or sent out.

What do I even care about what camera I own? I'm more a digital person anyway so images rarely keep their original light or grain for me anyway. I'm much more of a designer. If you don't even shoot on film you'll never be a real photographer, is one theory. I know that's snobbery. But I know what they mean. Almost all the best digital effects are mimicry of things that can go "wrong" serendipitously on film. But there are places where digital has the old world beat. I'm not a philosophical purist about images. I understand that every image is manipulated. To act like a digital manipulation is profane whereas a manipulation of film (using outdated film, freezing film, using lemon juice on film, etc.) is sacred is silly.

In the dream, I was back with my ex who was helping me search for my lost camera. We ended up at a university neither one of us had ever attended and had to deal with the staff (in the noisy cafeteria which drove my agoraphobia nuts). Because I had lost the camera somewhere near the university. But we had been sitting on a car in the largely empty parking lot of a grocery store out in the middle of nowhere and I had been taking pictures (before dark) far down this nature path and it was more likely I lost my camera there. I don't know why we thought the camera was likely to be in the Lost and Found at the university. The funniest thing about the university (whose layout and architecture I did enjoy) was they had this submarine sandwich mounted on a plaque on a wall as art. I guess it was like a Duane Hansen sub since it didn't rot. But it had broken in two and half the sub lay on the floor below the plaque. And nobody touched it out of deference. Or else maybe the artist wanted half the sandwich lying on the floor. I don't know. But we both thought it was funny and dutifully walked around it to get in the elevator (wood doors) nearby.

There was a movie starting and my ex wanted us to see that so I promised him we would but since it was starting I told him to go in and I would catch up after a few more checks on my camera. So I guess he did. He wasn't mad or anything. He wanted to see this movie, which I think was a comedy.

Later, I came into the darkened movie theater and nearly sat on the wrong man's lap a few times. I couldn't see anything until I was right up on top of people and my ex wasn't in his usual favorite perches in a theater. Funny I still remember these things about him years later.

One guy was only too happy to have me sit with him even though it wasn't my ex but I wasn't interested. There wasn't an iota of sex in this dream anywhere, unless you're a dumb Freudian and think things like submarine sandwiches are penises. Or that my detached camera was castration. I hate those readings. My camera was actually my camera in this dream. Even if the dream split it up into metaphorical parts.

I never did reunite with my ex. I never did find my beloved camera.

Probably my life will end horribly and the dream got everything right.

But now I'm awake so I shhhh the dream and sweep it up like cat food that missed the dish.

Saturday, April 28, 2012