The #ARTPOP app is weird and I made this on it. http://gifs.techha.us/0LV1E6OVTnWkmAtxHb_43w.gif
NO “TELEPHONES”. TALK TO EACH OTHER. FACE TO FACE ONLY. WRITE A LETTER. SEND A TELEGRAM TO YOUR MOM. PRETEND IT’S 1860. LIVE.
NO ‘WRITING’… TALK TO EACH OTHER. THROW A ROCK AT YOUR MOM. PRETEND IT’S 10,000 BCE. LIVE.
URGGA. ROU GRAAURH. RUH.
<SMACKS HANDS ON WALL WITH PAINT.>
NO ‘HIGHER BRAIN FUNCTIONS’ …USE YOUR REPTILIAN BRAIN
EAT YOUR MOM’S CORPSE SHE DIED TO PROVIDE YOU WITH SUSTENANCE
PRETEND YOU HAVE JUST AROSE FROM THE SEA
NO “MULTICELLULAR TRAITS”….. USE YOUR SYMBIOTIC MITOCHONDRIA
REPRODUCE ASEXUALLY, YOU’RE YOUR OWN PARENT
PRETEND IT’S 2BYA
NO “LIFE.” USE FUNDAMENTAL PHYSICAL FORCES TO FORM SPHERICAL OBJECTS REVOLVING AROUND ONE ANOTHER IN SPACE.
FUSE HYDROGEN INTO HELIUM USING GRAVITATIONAL PRESSURE TO PRODUCE HEAT AND LIGHT.
PRETEND IT’S 4.5BYA.
STABILIZE INTO EQUILIBRIA
NO “PHYSICS.” USE THE HIGGS MECHANISM.
GIVE MASS TO ELEMENTARY PARTICLES.
PRETEND ITS 10–12 SECONDS AFTER THE BIG BANG.
COOL DOWN UNTIL THERE’S PHYSICS
reblog for this /\
How the Geneva Drive (the mechanical step that makes the second hand on a clock work by turning constant rotation into intermittent motion) works.
I want the hoidies, 1 of every color please.
ditto, and the briefs
I’m not going to get over how amazing this is any time soon.
I invented nudity. I invented pain. I brought the zombie of art up from its deep grave and made it dance like a little girl. Come to me, let me feel your soft cheeks. You’re welcome.
She makes me want to vomit.
Naomi Klein: Why Science Is Telling All of Us to Revolt and Change Our Lives Before We Destroy the Planet ›
Standing at the front of the conference room, the geophysicist from the University of California, San Diego walked the crowd through the advanced computer model he was using to answer that question. He talked about system boundaries, perturbations, dissipation, attractors, bifurcations and a whole bunch of other stuff largely incomprehensible to those of us uninitiated in complex systems theory. But the bottom line was clear enough: global capitalism has made the depletion of resources so rapid, convenient and barrier-free that “earth-human systems” are becoming dangerously unstable in response. When pressed by a journalist for a clear answer on the “are we f**ked” question, Werner set the jargon aside and replied, “More or less.”
There was one dynamic in the model, however, that offered some hope. Werner termed it “resistance” – movements of “people or groups of people” who “adopt a certain set of dynamics that does not fit within the capitalist culture”. According to the abstract for his presentation, this includes “environmental direct action, resistance taken from outside the dominant culture, as in protests, blockades and sabotage by indigenous peoples, workers, anarchists and other activist groups”.
Serious scientific gatherings don’t usually feature calls for mass political resistance, much less direct action and sabotage. But then again, Werner wasn’t exactly calling for those things. He was merely observing that mass uprisings of people – along the lines of the abolition movement, the civil rights movement or Occupy Wall Street – represent the likeliest source of “friction” to slow down an economic machine that is careening out of control. We know that past social movements have “had tremendous influence on … how the dominant culture evolved”, he pointed out. So it stands to reason that, “if we’re thinking about the future of the earth, and the future of our coupling to the environment, we have to include resistance as part of that dynamics”. And that, Werner argued, is not a matter of opinion, but “really a geophysics problem”.
no u cant just do that
Some thoughts about a work I saw last night…
"Project O is a collaboration between Alexandrina Hemsley and Jamila Johnson-Small that aims to comment on the general fallout from being black, mixed and female and making visible positions of otherness, so that they will eventually no longer seem ‘other’."
They danced for themselves and they danced to entertain. They expected as much from their audience as they gave. I watched as they straddled the line between empowerment and objectification, between being themselves and what they were expected to be. They were enjoying themselves, moving freely - and then their jerking, frantic movement suggested otherwise.
The two rolled their hips and slowly plie’d to the floor, stack of books balanced on each near-motionless head. A projection of a jungle formed the backdrop, plush tiger and potted palm trees framing the stage. I feel implicit in their sexualisation and exotification. Not in a way that makes me feel guilt or pity, but in a way that makes me sure this is not for me to dismiss as someone else’s problem. In a way that makes me reject the defensive “but, I’m not racist/sexist/whatever” bullshit that is so commonplace.
They were dancing in wigs, gold hotpants, balaclavas and lots of black. They were dancing nude. They were nude for me, because I was watching. They were nude because being nude is great. The were nude because they didn’t have any clothes on.
I watched them. I watched myself watching them. I watched audience members who had been drafted onto stage both watching, and not watching them. I was surprised at the accuracy with which you could guess whether a particular volunteer would look directly at them as they danced - those who were sat with their bodies facing the two performers would not choose to look away, but those who were angled even 45 degrees away from them stared blankly ahead (nervously sipping their free O-brand beer). I guess you could wonder when was the last time, as an audience member, that your seat didn’t directly face the source of your entertainment.
I listened to pop and rnb song lyrics in a way I haven’t before.
Ima read that bitch…
There was some insanely powerful imagery. They read with their vaginas, danced on chairs, split-leaped, sat on laps, pissed on books. Seriously these girls have ovaries. It was so inspiring to watch something so sure of its existence, so free of apology. This work was vital - and by that I mean both necessary, and full of life. It was threatening. The stage was a mess by the end, strewn with books and white paper, wigs and a pink faux-fur rug. As messy as race and gender so clearly is.
O is on until Saturday, every night at the Yard Theatre in Hackney Wick. You should go and see it because it is important, and also because its way more fun than I made it sound.
I have a blog where I write about dance.