A Argentina, te amo!

"The Parthenon of Books/Homage to Democracy, Buenos Aires," detail (December 1983) by Marta Minujín

In December 1983 the Argentine Conceptual artist Marta Minujin and a group of helpers spent 17 days building a full-scale model of the Parthenon in a public park in Buenos Aires, Roberta Smith writes. Except for a metal scaffolding, it was made almost entirely of books wrapped in plastic. All the books had been banned by one of the most oppressive juntas in the country’s history, which was just being dismantled after Argentina’s first democratic election in a decade. “The Parthenon of Books/Homage to Democracy,” as Ms. Minujin’s work was titled, stood for about three weeks. Then the public was allowed to disassemble the piece and keep the books.

Platypus

This post shall be an ode to the platypus, the subject of one of my practice LSAT reading comprehension. It really brightened up a series of dull moments to learn that the soft surface of their bills is perforated with openings that contain sensitive nerve endings. These tingly schnoz bits are used to locate its prey underwater, as the animal's eyes, ears, and nostrils are sealed when it is submerged.

I also included a Perry the Platypus video. I never knew there was a Perry the Platypus.

Check out these knives!

From an MIT-educated steel furniture designer who in 2003 decided to go the way of the blade, MKS handcrafts serious kitchen knives finished off with perfectly balanced handles originally manufactured for bikes. Precisely tuned for weight and control, each blade is made from one of four steel alloys chosen to suit its unique purpose, all tempered to be softer (i.e., less delicate) than their German/Japanese counterparts; the welded-on, shock-absorbing handles come in two basic types, red/green/blue injection-molded stainless steel numbers that are naturally bacteria resistant, or an uber-grippy, BMX-style rubber job for people too hardcore to fear salmonella. The cutlery lineup includes a range of chef's knives, including a 10" job with weight distributed for a centered balance point, resulting in "remarkably quick and deft" action; an 8" wide-spine boning blade "aggressively tapered" to dispatch bone and connective tissue with ease; the 8oz Mezzaluna, with a rounded blade for chopping "herbs or anything else one might throw in a bowl"; and a Deep Paring piece perfect for eviscerating garlic and de-veining shrimp, essential for avoiding the culinary faux pas of Popcorn Shrimp.

For a more personal rig, MKS'll hand make a knife to your exact specifications, including type of steel, handle, hardness, edge shape/angle, and body profile.

"Mezzaluna"

What the heck is this?

Seeing Sounds!

What a great music video! The aesthetics remind me of Arthur Dove's "Foghorn" series - perhaps it's a knock-off? (there is even a little lighthouse in the video)

Arthur Dove, Foghorns, oil on canvas, 54.6x72.4 cm., Colorado Springs Fine Arts Center, anonymous gift, c. The estate of Arthur G. Dove.

The lyrics of this song also merit attention. They follow a boyfriend (I think) watching his girlfriend die of cancer. Heartbreaking but exact:

In the middle of the night I was sleeping sitting up,
when a doctor came to tell me, "Enough is enough."

He brought me out into the hall (I could have sworn it was haunted),
and told me something that I didn't know that I wanted to hear:
That there was nothing that I could do to save you,
the choir's gonna sing, and this thing is gonna kill you.
Something in my throat made my next words shake,
and something in the wires made the lightbulbs break.
There was glass inside my feet and raining down from the ceiling,
it opened up the scars that had just finished healing.
It tore apart the canyon running down your femur,
(I thougth that it was beautiful, it made me a believer.)
And as it opened I could hear you howling from your room,
but I hid out in the hall until the hurricane blew.
When I reappered and tried to give you something for the pain,
you came to hating me again and just sang your refreain:

You had a new dream, it was more like a nightmare.
You were just a little kid, and they cut your hair,
then they stuck you in machines, you came so close to dying.
They should have listened, they thought that you were lying.
Daddy was an asshole, he fucked you up, built the gears in your head,
now he greases them up. And no one paid attention when you just stopped eating. "Eighty-seven pounds!" and this all bears repeating.

Tell me when you think that we became so unhappy,
wearing silver rings with nobody clapping.
When we moved here togehter we were so dissappointed,
sleeping out of tune with our dreams disjointed.
It killed me to see you getting always rejected,
but I didn't mind the things you threw, the phones I deflected.
I didn't mind you blaming me for your mistakes,
I just held you in the doorframe through all of the earthquakes.
But you packed up your clothes in that bag every night,
and I would try to grab your ankles (what a pitiful sight.)
But after over a year, I stopped trying to stop you from stomping out that door,
coming back like you always do. Well no one's gonna fix it for us, no one can.
You say that, 'No one's gonna listen, and no one understands.'

So there's no open doors and there's no way to get through,
there's no other witnesses, just us two.

There's two people living in one small room,
from your two half-families tearing at you,
two ways to tell the story (no one worries),
two silver rings on our fingers in a hurry,
two people talking inside your brain,
two people believing that I'm the one to blame,
two different voices coming out of your mouth,
while I'm too cold to care and too sick to shout.

You had a new dream, it was more like a nightmare.
You were just a little kid, and they cut your hair,
then they stuck you in machines, you came so close to dying.
They should have listened, they thought that you were lying.
Daddy was an asshole, he fucked you up, built the gears in your head,
now he greases them up. And no one paid attention when you just stopped eating. "Eighty-seven pounds!" and this all bears repeating.

MP3: The Antlers "Two"

Sinbad

Sinbad and International Terrorism (10 Heroic Deeds), 2006

I came across these photos on an art blog that I check out from time to time. They made me bust up laughing. The photos were taken by a Russian collective called Blue Noses. Sadly, I couldn't find very much background information on their website so I'm left to wonder where were they shot? Russia? Who are the subjects? (are those white dudes?) Why cardboard?

After some pense-ing on the subject, here's what I think. Form and composition don't seem particularly important in these photographs. They seem to focus more on the drama/irony of the scene than the composition. My first instinct was, why not make this into a performance piece? It would be GREAT (I'd go).

But, perhaps it all ties together somehow...The cardboard (oh so artificial), the white people dressed as "Sinbad" the terrorist, and the snow-covered woods of Russia (?) standing in for the Middle East. All these things hint at falsehood and deception. I hope this isn't a cliché analysis, but Isee the photos as a comment on contemporary orientalism in western media which misrepresents and dramatizes the realities of the middle east.

Does that work? Anything missing?