in-visibility

ONLINE VS ALIVE?

2007-12-03T11:29:00.000Z

ONLINE vs alive?
................Online, .............. and Unplugged Social Networking

Computers ............... become social interfaces for
sharing digital media and collaborating to build ................online............. communities and ..................... Social t
echnologies create .......................................................................................................................................................................................an ...........................................................extension of social space, and
new ways for people to .......... together, meet and ............ in today's society.
As well as social software such as .................................................................. there are technologies............... created and maintained by such as communities of ....................................... and users ................................................................, or that enable people to connect with each other in public places................................................... or that

bind people together in their everyday lives.

The ............................................. will explore the ..............................................
new social spaces and the....................... social
implications of technologies for the many different kinds of people who make, use and are affected by them.

Some proclaim the death of email.
Life is supposed to be................................................... 'more social' - easier to ..............., the world at our
finger tips,
m....................l.

But this is a time when we see how electronic communication can isolate us, as
more and more people drown in a deluge of email that generates stress, even reducing IQ. Additionally,
'online communities' are based upon

an artificial equivalence
between 'users which obscures power
relationships and issues of ownership.

In all parts of the globe people are seeking to open up or hold onto places to......................................

For details on how to submit , SUBMIT.

2007-10-11T17:49:00.000+01:00

ALL I NEED IS IN-FORMATION

2007-09-25T15:53:00.000+01:00

they said.

2007-09-22T13:21:00.000+01:00

It's not about how far you can stretch your neck, mate!

2007-09-22T12:38:00.000+01:00

2007-09-22T12:27:00.000+01:00

Old
little girl
is out
with

flower body
but
bees
always follow

if it
smells
like
honey

the cliche' is
at the door
Not hard
to spot

So drink, drink
The guy
just
forgot.

2007-09-22T12:22:00.000+01:00

strawberries
crabs and
coriander
is all I have
inside me

I WANT TO BE LIKE THE SUN TRYING ICE CREAM FOR THE FIRST TIME

2007-09-22T12:21:00.000+01:00

for a shell

2007-09-05T18:48:00.000+01:00

I left my
self
I left myself
on a
shelf
and I am
a
selfish
shellfish
selling away
all my
selfish
self
for a shell.

2007-09-04T18:57:00.000+01:00

<>

2007-09-04T18:42:00.000+01:00

I’ve prepared 1000 pair of scissors to play the cut and paste with you.

Like that time you put your hands under the covers and pretended you were asleep. Like walking in a corridor of velvet and trees and leaves that were solid hope to orgasm.
<>
Cut: velvet and trees and leaves
Paste: In the morning you were sorry, I remember:
cut and paste.
<>
Sometimes it was incredible to talk to you, with all of our fears served on cheese slices and wine. I thought with you it would have never happened.
<>
Cut: it would have never happened.
Paste: We laughed a lot together.
<>

I gave you that, I handed it in, and pretended we still lived R n’ R, but words were just becoming a path leading to while your fingers tickled my thighs:
<>

Cut: words were becoming a path leading to
Paste: you did not care about who we belonged to.
<>

And the branches of trees outside the window did not scare you at all, you thought it could have been just velvet, non-sense and instinct.
that in the end I would have been the only one to pick up the leaves and caress myself with them.

Cut: all of it.
<>

If I said something like that you would have liked it.
Jim was hallucinating when he opened the doors.
I should shut down mine to you and everyone else.

You might not be capable of walking on my land.

I don't walk on my land I live in the empty spaces we jump you'd ruin my landscape, if you walked: all I believe in, you’ve touched with big hands.

Cut: all I believe in
Paste: on the pavement I saw the way you’d hit me if I could avoid seeing through one and the other gap of your mind.
<>

leave me alone,
I want to drink and think, I want to drink and think,
that the fault wasn’t mine.

Cut.
Paste: Dig your hole by yourself.

<>

2007-09-04T13:54:00.000+01:00

PER FAVORE LEGGERE AD ALTA VOCE

2007-09-03T16:33:00.001+01:00

URGA GALELE
STRSTRSTRSTRSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SS : inchiodati al computer si è migliori che dal vivo

BANGHE DONTERI TESSILO SAPER NO IL CHE GEGE PENSA SALE TRA LE MALE CALE
SCENDE(spesso dovresti soltanto perdere tutto quello che pensi: MICROSOFT TI CURA)

SEREINGOLATERRR ISSSSSSSSSO SESSE SESSSSEEEEEEEEEEEEE TE TE TE TE TETTE TE NO.

POI CHE NOI AS IF LELE TI TO TAC TREMA.
STUPIDO CANE

RIPETI:
SENSO SENSO SENSO
IN LINGUA COMUNE: CAZZO

TENERO PESCE CANE TENUTO IN TENDA TREMA ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR.
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
RRRRRRRRRR
RRRRR
RRR
IO NO MA TU SI
E MUORI.
O RIDI.

(non pensare di vedere la risposta: urla.) COMUNICAZIONE DISTURBATA:
TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU
TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU
TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU
TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU TU

YOUR COMPUTER WITH LOVE:

2007-09-03T16:30:00.001+01:00

Buy something.
Say something you should buy something and say something to me.
Don't buy it, buy me, don't buy one, buy three. Buy me.
READ THE NEWS: nothing will be there, but we'll be there, there, like information given to silence, there, like silence buying information: let's meet nowhere and stay.
INFORM YOURSELF: three times a day, buy information, be information, be informed.
BE HAPPY. BUY.
READ THE NEWS: don't be alone, be with me. FIND THE SENSE, THE SENSE AND NONSENSE. THERE, IN BETWEEN THE SPACES OF ONE WORD OR THE OTHER YOU'LL FIND SILENCE.
YOU ARE SILENCE.
YOU ARE SILENCE.
YOU ARE SILENCE.
YOU ARE SILENCE.
SPEAK.

digital introspection about diamonds

2007-07-31T20:34:00.000+01:00

Blue Birds

2007-07-31T20:27:00.000+01:00

2007-07-31T20:21:00.000+01:00

Digital love can be expressed in shoes: digital monument to love

2007-07-31T20:16:00.000+01:00

Elephants in hands

2007-07-31T20:15:00.000+01:00

Monument to digital alcohol

2007-07-31T20:14:00.000+01:00

Monument to digital love

2007-07-31T20:12:00.000+01:00

2007-07-31T20:06:00.000+01:00

2007-07-31T20:05:00.001+01:00

2007-07-31T20:05:00.000+01:00

2007-07-31T20:04:00.000+01:00

digital crystal monument

2007-07-31T19:49:00.000+01:00

But is heaviness truly deplorable and lightness splendid?

2007-06-22T21:52:00.000+01:00

"If every second of our lives recurs an infinate number of times, we are nailed to eternity as Jesus Christ was nailed to the cross. It is a terrifying prospect. In the world of eternal return the weight of unbearable responsibility lies heavy on every move we make. This is why Nietzsche called the idea of eternal return the Heaviest of Burdens. If eternal return is the heaviest of burdens, then our lives can stand out against it in all their splendid lightness. But is heaviness truly deplorable and lightness truly deplorable?"

"What shall we choose? WEight or lightness?
Parmenides posed this very question in the sixth century before Christ. He saw the world divided into pairs of opposites: light/darkness, fineness/coarseness, warmth/cold, being/non-being, One half of the opposition he called positive, the other negative. We might find this division into positive and negative poles childishly simple except for one difficulty: which one is positive, weight or lightness?
Parmenides responded: lightness is positive, weight negative. Was he correct or not? That is the question. The only certainty is: the lightness/weight opposition is the most mysterious, most ambiguous of all."

one explanation

2007-06-17T12:22:00.001+01:00

Thought or thinking is a mental process which allows beings to model the world, and so to deal with it effectively according to their goals, plans, ends and desires. Words referring to similar concepts and processes include cognition, sentience, consciousness, idea, and imagination.
Thinking involves the cerebral manipulation of information, as when we form concepts, engage in problem solving, reason and make decisions. Thinking is a higher cognitive function and the analysis of thinking processes is part of cognitive psychology.

An explanation could never be enough

2007-06-17T12:17:00.000+01:00

Thought or thinking is a mental process which allows beings to model the world,
and so to deal with it effectively according to their goals, plans, ends and desires.
Words referring to similar concepts and processes include cognition, sentience, consciousness,
idea, and imagination.
Thinking involves the cerebral manipulation of information,
as when we form concepts, engage in problem solving, reason and make decisions.
Thinking is a higher cognitive function and the analysis of thinking processes is part of
cognitive psychology.

SHINY SKINNY GIGANTIC ANTS

2007-06-16T23:51:00.000+01:00

I went to buy a ticket to a gig today: music is what makes me happy, I thought: I am gonna make myself happy today! That is reasonable, that is good, that is healthy: each day let’s do something to make our self happy. I deserve it, we all deserve it, we work so hard, we put ourselves under so much pressure, just to get “there” (an imaginary place each one of us imagine somewhere in our lives), but then I let it go out of the bus window.
A woman was crying while staring at her mobile phone, going towards the east end. There was a little gadget attached to it, her nails were long green and fake, and it all looked really sad. I’ve cried too today. I cried because I was outside Harrods’s and it made me feel sick.

I ran away from all of those people who seemed like shiny skinny gigantic ants: and I felt itchy as well. But it’s the way I realised I felt itchy that made me cry. Maybe I cried because I felt all of those ants were on my body. With their eyes and clean perfumed saliva…how could they really walk down those west-end roads and feel good with themselves? I felt surrounded, weak, disillusioned, hopeless, lonely and banal. They must do too, they must do too…. Or they don’t, but they look so shallow, that I can only understand what I am feeling if I convince myself that is not how authentic happiness looks like….But if that isn’t, why do they choose it? What does it give to them that stop them from hating themselves? But maybe they do hate themselves, and I HAVE TO CRY! I must be shallow too. We are so shallow, that we could organise a world competition on shallowness and probably we would never come up with just one winner: we all are winners. We are winning, down our beautiful city landscapes: roads that take us in cabs, buses and cars to our secret destinations; with our bags full of cheap clothes and expensive ones for the shiny skinny gigantic ants. To go on in our lives feeling we are protagonists, we have our own little Hollywood: our splendid story, in which we smile like in toothpaste adverts and pretend to have a personal taste. But there is no original copy anymore. It’s gone. Shiny skinny ants all over me, I know they need to shine. Not like the sunlight, not like a lake from a distance, more like precious stones next to coal…but they shine so badly that when you put all of them together they shine more like wine gums left in water to melt in a warm totally locked humid room.

And the gig faded away, with loads of other intentions and beliefs I had put on me to justify my intentions. And I felt I was Nothing. But instead of feeling free, I thought there wasn’t any sense in trying to preserve my own identity; it obviously seemed to be sold out.

I can be my own shadow

2007-06-16T22:04:00.001+01:00

how can a body stop being a body and start being a shape of nothing real?

2007-06-16T21:56:00.001+01:00

and how can it be that a shape of nothing can have more meaning that a perfect shaped body? Maybe because there are minds which manage to think bodies without their natural shape to play; and there are some other minds who think bodies with an artificial shape to lie. But we all want to be the masters. Masters of Nothing.

skin

2007-06-16T21:54:00.000+01:00

2007-05-29T23:55:00.000+01:00

SHARKS

2007-05-26T20:24:00.000+01:00

We are just surrounded by sharks. With a slow beat. No heart, not visibly at least. When we dance, we are like clowns. We scare ourselves. Like monkeys, we move.
When it’s dark, our smiles mix with electric feelings. Chemical reactions at the bottom of our feet: we jump. Faster and faster and sweat. We think sweating is a way of showing we are having fun. It proves we are making an effort for it, it shows we deserve it.

There I am, I can see myself moving swiftly with my eyes, hermetically closed. I look for attention, but I don’t want to see it, I just move, move with the rhythm, as if I was in front of the mirror and no one was seeing; When the rhythm goes faster I move my hips, I like it. They all like it too, it’s a language. It shows appreciation. When I move my hands around my body I see others following the same movement: it means we’re friendly. Although it’s all so dark. I know that when I move my hair, I get more attention...it says I am sexy...Sometimes it means I’m hot. In more than one sense. And I go back to moving the hips. Someone might put their leg behind my back, it means they love it. It’s a good sign; to move away means: you take music seriously, and you are not looking for closer physical exchanges. Some of them are hungry, they swim, rather than dance. They stare.

My knees bend up and down; my legs, a bit more open than normal, follow their movement, while my hands go up as if there was a ladder to heaven. It’s all in the mind. We all live our dream when we feel this music...I am going up that ladder now: with drops of sweat down my neck, feeling my tongue in my mouth as if I was kissing myself. Music also means finding a way to love your body in a way no other animal can conceive. We love it because it allows us into worlds of small perversions: secret images come up to our mind like flashlights of different colours all lasting for no more than fraction of seconds.It becomes a tool for pleasure, and we give it to ourselves through rhythm. But we like it loud, often dirty, so that when we move it, we can think of sex and feel right doing so. Sometimes they see what you are thinking and they try to enter your personal joyful dirty fantasy, but it does not work. Most times they share your vision for no more than 5 seconds, then suddenly they want to push you into theirs, and their hands stop following the music as if they had become deaf and hungrier, they lose the code you were following and you feel abused, so you stop yourself, move away, find your ladder again and start coming up again. When it gets better, your arms feel longer so that you feel you can reach a lot further, you reach Islands and different bits of skin, you meet your own fingers. I can feel my fingers now and they go all towards each other hugging up in the air and then on my thighs until I go straight back onto my ladder and jump on it for a few seconds, going towards the secret breath I imagine being behind my head, that one which is gonna make me turn around and open my eyes again to check where are the sharks and where my man could be, while I move my body, move it so swiftly until I’m at the top of the ladder ready to shout and move faster.

WHAT'S THE POINT OF FOLLOWING INSTRUCTIONS?

2007-05-13T00:59:00.001+01:00

2007-05-13T00:53:00.000+01:00

WHAT
WORDS
WHILE
WHALES
EAT?
TEETH
CRINGE
OR
SMILE
WITHOUT
ROOM\TO
PLAY WITH
BROKEN
GRASS
WE SMOKE
LIGHT OR
RAYS
BLUE
SCARVES
IN THIS
TREE
YOU SEE
A STORY
THE DREAM
WITHOUT
SHOES
MY HANDS
FULL OF AIR
YOUR BAG
WITH
SHORT LEGS
WHERE ARE WE
GONNA FALL
ASLEEP TONIGHT?

dr-eye

2007-05-13T00:52:00.000+01:00

this is for you: cr-eye.

CHILD-ISH

2007-05-13T00:51:00.001+01:00

Talk but Be Silent

2007-05-13T00:47:00.000+01:00

Just tell me we are not friends anymore.
That it's all been pointless.
If we are no friends anymore...

then I won't look for you anymore.
i won't wait for my friend anymore.

just like a bottle, we've all have been drunk and
there's only a glass left.

2007-05-13T00:46:00.000+01:00

We represent the lack of meaning through interpretation.

MY HIPS COULD BE LIKE MIRRORS

2007-05-13T00:45:00.000+01:00

reflect yourself on me.

2007-05-13T00:42:00.000+01:00

I am the image of thoughts I think. Think of me and I'll be able to see you.

MAYBE WE ARE JUST A THOUGHT IN THE MIND OF OTHERS...

2007-05-04T17:58:00.000+01:00

IF YOU WERE A THOUGHT WHAT WOULD YOU LOOK LIKE?
HOW LONG WOULD YOU BE? HOW LONG DO YOU THINK A THOUGHT COULD BE IF IT COULD COVER A DISTANCE? CAN YOU IMAGINE A 10KM LONG LINE? HOW MANY HOURS DOES IT TAKE TO THINK FOR 10KM? WOULD YOU MEASURE IT IN TERMS OF DURATION OF EACH THOUGHT OR QUANTITY OF THEM...WHAT ARE YOU THINKING NOW? WHERE WOULD IT TAKE YOU TO?
THINK

B- ANAL

2007-05-04T17:56:00.000+01:00

BALLS AND SPIDERS

2007-03-04T20:06:00.000Z

how far can a thought go?

2007-03-02T01:22:00.000Z

2007-02-26T14:26:00.000Z

2007-02-26T14:14:00.000Z

materials

2006-11-15T15:47:00.000Z

bricks, metal, found objects, cotton buds, chicken wire, glue gun, plaster, paper, bread, newspaper and papier mache'...

THE CAPTAIN OF THE CAR

2006-07-23T15:33:00.000+01:00

The captain of the cart is going
to kill his heart down this road.
With a long moan and
his parents' sword, he'll
make sure his skin will
burn.

You gave a cigarette to get 10 back
but sometimes you should get nothing
and learn to forget.

You can't forget
too many cigaretts
to many bets
you, captain of the car,
are going to kill
down this road, behind my hills
the moan in your mouth
and your parents' sword
you'll burn.

The captain of the car is going to kill
he gave a cigarette to get 10 back
but sometimes he should get nothing
and learn to forget.

He is a man, sometimes a friend
who can't forgive or give a hand
he wants to kill his heart
down this road... I know

A long moan and his parents' sword
he'll make sure our skin will burn

He could just smoke or have a rest
but he wanted always to get the best
his parents' sword for me to die
he wants me now to say good-bye

Captain, this morning I am learning
learning and burning
burning away.

2006-07-15T23:46:00.000+01:00

2006-07-14T12:48:00.000+01:00

SPOILED BABIES: SYMBOLS OR MEMORIES?

GENETICALLY MODIFIED ART

2006-07-14T00:27:00.000+01:00

there isn't a body left, and you can see it.

2006-07-13T23:17:00.000+01:00

LOVE QUESTIONS MEMORIES

2006-07-13T12:50:00.000+01:00

IS REMEMBERING A WAY TO LOVE, OR IS LOVE A WAY TO REMEMBER?
CAN PEOPLE WITH AMNESIA LOVE?
WHAT WOULD YOU LOVE IF YOU COULD NOT REMEMBER?
DO YOU LOVE REMEMBERING OR WOULD YOU FORGET?
WHAT IF YOU FORGET YOU LOVE?

WILL YOU REMEMBER YOUR ANSWERS?

2006-06-22T13:04:00.000+01:00

2006-06-22T13:03:00.000+01:00

2006-06-22T13:02:00.000+01:00

2006-06-22T13:00:00.000+01:00

COMUNICAZIONE DI LINEA NORMALE

2006-06-22T12:58:00.000+01:00

2006-06-22T12:56:00.001+01:00

I’ll never give birth to my father

COMUNICAZIONE DI LINEA INTERESSANTE

2006-06-22T12:56:00.000+01:00

PAROLE IN GABBIA?

2006-06-22T12:52:00.000+01:00

nella maggior parte dei casi, raccolgo oggetti abbandonati o il cui uso mi resta oscuro...
che senso ha seguire le istruzioni?

PUBBLICITA' SU CARTA DI CEREALI

2006-06-22T12:38:00.000+01:00

(ads in cereal boxes)

sto lavorando ad una reinterpretazione dei media...con diversi materiali... in questo caso sto collezionando scatole di cereali. considerando che in questa casa consumiamo almeno 4 scatole di cereali alla settimana, ho pensato che vale la pena, a livello etico, di iniziare a farne un nuovo uso. la raccolta differenziata si e' dimostrata al quanto vaga nei suoi obiettivi ed nella sua efficacia, io, per lo meno non ne vedo ancora i frutti. RICICLAGGIO FAI-DA-TE ( OPPURE...FAI-DEL-TE'-PER-TRE... GRAZIE)

riciclare
ripetitivita'
per trovare voce
dove non c'e' piu' spazio

ovvero: una volta che uno apre la scatola, che cosa resta?
una volta che uno compra la rivista, che cosa trova?
nella scatola ho trovato lo spazio.
sulla rivista ci ho messo la voce.

THE CLOCKED - MAN

2006-06-22T12:37:00.001+01:00

2006-06-22T12:37:00.000+01:00

2006-06-22T12:36:00.000+01:00

2006-06-22T12:35:00.001+01:00

2006-06-22T12:35:00.000+01:00

IL TEATRO - MOBILE

2006-06-22T12:33:00.000+01:00

DENTRO E FUORI

dopo qualche mese

2006-06-07T11:11:00.000+01:00

finalmente la mostra.

locale:piccolo, vicino alla stazione di Kings Cross, da lontano si vedono dei cantieri. stanno costruendo i binari per andare da Kings Cross in Francia. A parte i cantieri, l'entrata del locale e' piacevole: legno laccato, ma allo stesso tempo piuttosto decadente. Dentro, le pareti sono dipinte in arancione, ma niente e' uniforme o simmetrico al Lincoln Lounge: i muri non sono diritti, i giochi di luce ingannano sulle effettive dimensioni del locale, i divani in pelle sono leggermente sfondati e comodi. il Lincoln Lounge e' un lungo corridoio con persino un camino da un lato. Un grande camino nero, forse marmo, forse no. Tanto nessuno lo usa.

I quadri esposti cambiano di mese in mese, di stile in stile. A volte sono psichedelici, a volte sono un po' bohemiens, a volte sono incredibilmente geometrici, quel che e' certo e' che i colori non deludono mai. A differenza di tanti bar Trendy di altre zone, il Lincoln Lounge non e' un locale pretenzioso o con l'ossessione per immagine e soldi. Persino la bandiera del Che, ora cosi' cliche' e stravista, sembra nel posto giusto, per una volta. Un posto in cui nessuno la prende sul serio, ma in cui tutti la hanno guardata affascinati almeno una volta da adolescenti.

Al Lincoln Lounge non si balla, ma la musica e' sempre presente. Diversi Dj animano le serate in York Way...in casi straordinari, se non si balla sui divani, si balla sui tavoli: proprietario incluso.

D'altro canto, "he is free", come dice il suo fantastico tatuaggio, sulla schiema in basso...e se anche se non avesse il tatuaggio....la testa rasata solo da una parte porterebbe a pensare piu' o meno la stessa cosa...oltre al fatto che forse....preferisco il tatuaggio ai capelli. :)

show at lincoln Lounge, London, 7/6/06

2006-06-07T10:50:00.000+01:00

CROSSED WORDS

2006-03-24T16:15:00.000Z

ACROSS DOWN
1.Novice politician beginning normally, 1. Movement in France that
then doing a U-Turn. signifies an end to life
2.without means to attack enemy, we snap 2.the first character to be
and lose badly involved in someone's
identification

WELCOME HOME

2006-03-24T16:00:00.000Z

FEBRUARY: my journal was surprised

2006-03-24T15:52:00.000Z

THE BODY: the place where you are

2006-03-24T15:43:00.000Z

first year

2006-03-24T15:33:00.000Z

2006-03-24T15:16:00.000Z

my 3 studio spaces

work in process

2006-03-24T14:59:00.000Z

if thought were wire, and life was all of your thoughts...what would the consequences be?

WOBURN PROJECT

2006-03-24T14:20:00.000Z

meet Ing

(you are my questions, you are your answers)

BEAUVOIR: THE WEIGHT OF SITUATION

2006-03-17T22:08:00.000Z

through her body, Beauvoir argues, woman is condemned to experience a conflict which man does not experience, the "conflict between species and individual". (...) for Sartre, it will be recalled, there are two primary "aspects" to the body, involving two different and incommunicable levels of being. these are my body-for-others (my body as object), and my body-for-me (my body as consciousmess). in so far as my body has objectivity, for Sartre, its objectivity comes to me through other freedoms. it is only through the mediation of the Other- prototypically through the look- that i grasp my body as an objective structure of my being.

woman's relation to her body cannot be subsumed under Sartre's two aspects. For woman encounters her lived body as having an objectivity which is not mediated by another consciousness. She discovers her body as "an obscure thing", from which biological processes obtrude without her consent.

Simon de Beauvoir, a critical reader, edited by Elizabeth Fallaize

SLEEP-LESS WEEK AND WEAK-END

2006-03-13T21:17:00.000Z

....those nights of the past are that place in which we walk and tremble in today's eyes. we see.
and yet, among those sold thoughts, some quills saved your hug. so far. you left them on me. for me to interpret your gesture. again i think we do not know where these tries go, but we are here so together we find some rest.
these hands can go far, but ;let them stay here for a million abstract minutes, let them grasp that smile, so small we could all cry. that little movement of your lips when we were children we used to hide.

ADON LACROIX: is it possible to deracialize and degender difference and think it in positive, non reifying terms?
to seek work in which "sameness" and "difference" are in perpetual state of mutual negotiation where one neither swallows nor ejects the other? This shifting experience and thought are embodied in the works in which an absnce of fixity attends to the ambiguous, the permuting, the composite, the flexible, and the ephemeral.

CON-FUSION..............CO-EMERGENCE....................

BOOKS I LOVE (TODAY):

"INSIDE THE VISIBLE" an elliptical traverse of 20th century art

in, of, and from the feminine

ed. Catherine de Zegher

"ART AFTER PHILOSOPHY AND AFTER." Joseph Kosuth

Arte povera....un movimento artistico...italiano degli anni 60'....

is sophistication a mask for inadequacy?

ARTISTS:

NANCY SPERO................POETRY............Codex Artaud

SARAH LUCAS....YBAs....

RACHEL WHITEREAD....and the House. the first woman to win the Turner prize

REBECCA HORN.....and eroticism

MARTHA ROSLER, and politics

FRANCESCA WOODMAN

MIRA SCHENDEL 60s, 70s. Brazil. handwritten letters, a labyrinthic ambience....

CHARLOTTE SALOMON - lyrics+images.... 784 painted pages. watercolours. salomon told a chronicle of growth. an autobiography without an "I". unravel this story, see if it's true.

LINES

2006-03-13T20:44:00.000Z

lines which go through things,

outside and over.

lines free from the surface of conventions

articulated like sentences, like strings of meanings

lines with simultaneous aspects

not just one interpretation

lines. honest lines, about authenticity

because authenticity doesn't have just one face.

lines like a labyrinth, where it's not

a way out you have to find, but a way in.

and in these terms, there's always one.

there's different.

lines which communicate.

2006-03-12T22:34:00.000Z

2006-03-12T22:24:00.000Z

2006-03-12T22:18:00.000Z

2006-03-12T21:31:00.000Z

visual art's veil, Jean Fisher

2006-03-11T01:52:00.000Z

In visual art the fiction is the "veil", which again means nothing in itself since, surely, it conceals nothing more than its own fictionality.

its value for the perceiver lies in its power to activate and organise the movement of desire: our deisre to know what is behind it engenders imaginative thought and knowledge. Hence, knwledge is discovered not in the object but in the search, and the search, and the search can only be predicated on an a priori belief that there is something "lost" to be found.

what might this be if not the sense of a "lost" unity of the self? Yet if the language of art seeks to imagine unity, it can only discover its impossiblity, becoming, in effect, an affirmation of alterity."

2006-03-10T18:43:00.000Z

is the body an expression of values?
can it be an expression of personality?
now that the body is part of the mass media culture?
do we use our body to hide or to sell values?
do we separate, nowadays, the concept of body and mind?
do we believe the body as an emotional means for expression?
social-body-personal
is it the same body?
show the invisible aspects of a person's body
INVISIBLE AS A STRUCTURAL ELEMENT

2006-03-10T14:39:00.000Z

outside IT

2006-03-10T14:07:00.000Z

about women artists: "their need to deconstruct existing representational codes is a search for BEGINNINGS: in the sense described by Edward Said: "beginning is making or producing difference; but difference which is the result of combinig the already-familiar with the fertile novelty of human work in language. beginning is basically an activity which ultimately implies return and repetitions rather than simple linear accomplishment; beginning and beginning-again are historical whereas orgins are divine; a beginning not only creates but is its own method because it has intention."

studio space

2006-03-10T13:57:00.000Z

smoking thoughts

2006-03-10T13:49:00.000Z

2006-03-10T13:40:00.000Z

covers discovers

interesting website:http://spacehijackers.org

2006-03-10T13:23:00.000Z

Architecture is analogous to a type of language, buildings, and the layouts and components within them can act as a text, instructing users how they are intended to be used and affecting ambience of the space. However users of space read this language in a distracted manner, the messages and signifiers within are therefore not consciously noted. We are too busy getting on with whatever business we are there for, to spend time laboriously deciphering the language of the space. It is because of this that companies can guide us around retail space and control our experience of that space.

As with any language system, the link between signifier and signified is an arbitrary one. It is only by social convention that we read language as we do, this applies to architecture as much as it does to English. Language is a construct of the society that uses it, it is a set of signs that are developed and used by that society in order to have a common understanding. Language only exists within the group of people that use it, it is not a physical but rather an abstract thing. Language is also something that can change over time; a simple example of this is the word "gay" in the English language.

2006-03-10T13:06:00.000Z

timid? teamid

2006-03-10T12:29:00.000Z

Tra i significati ti cerco, non so dove sei sospeso in braccia di cristallo antico. Sento ancora il sapore di quelle convinzioni infantili di una bambina che ti han guardato negli occhi solo una volta.
Sei entrato dentro di me fisicamente quando ancora credevo che le tue mani mi avrebbero accolto con cura e verità…mi rendo conto solo ora che non aspettavo altro che di essere ferita per trovare iL coraggio di proclamare la mia indipendenza emotiva.
Le tue cicatrici. Le guardo ora sul mio corpo, leggermente rovinato rispetto a quando cercavo i tuoi abbracci…ma risplendono di una luce che tu non hai mai meritato di vedere. E risplendono dentro.
Dentro, dove tu sei entrato senza sapere dove andare, prima ancora che io sapessi dell’esistenza di spazi astratti.

Non immaginerai mai ciò che ho imparato da quando mi sono lasciata uccidere dalla tua crosta di sangue insensibile…uomo, non sei niente che io non posso essere senza di te.
Mi espando come un continente di collegamenti e fili infiniti e invisibili. Conquisto tutto quello che subisce il fascino della mia autenticità e la mia forza è energia pura che tu combatti in pensieri contorti e discorsi masticati da altri.
Una donna che di spirito si veste lampeggiando come un faro per navi e vascelli in cerca della direzione più oscura e contraddittoria. Non si parla più di follia.
La follia è una costruzione sociale.
Tu sei quella costruzione sociale….tu sei quella follia. Quel mondo fuori. Quel mondo che non capisce e non ha mai capito.
Ora, ti spiego. Resta solo il mondo che può venire dentro. Tutto.
Tutto ciò che si spinge nel fluido della simultaneità di significati.

Ti guardo appassire con tutte quelle frasi superficiali e pesanti e non vedo altro che la tua trionfante sconfitta teorica e sterile….
Non riuscirai mai a prendermi, non ci sei mai riuscito.

E corre anche la voglia di scappare dalla marginalità di queste parole che non parlano lingua di senso ma spalle nascoste da un vento precipitato nella mia sfera di potere. Un gioco che taglia la sporcizia dei tuoi occhi e scorda con gesti immensi e regali la meschinità con cui hai osato sfondare la mia porta per far entrare l’inverno della mia crescita.
Credevo di compiacerti, ma volevo soltanto sentirti spirare con un dio che mente.

A volte penso che tu volessi soltanto smagnetizzare la mia anima…volevi corromperla con intellettualismi di zucchero e vermi.
Stupido stupido uomo con lo stomaco di aquila...da lontano ormai riconosco l’odore e non posso fare a meno di sfilarti intorno, vincente, vincente, dentro la mia pelle, dentro le mie cicatrici, dietro alla tua cornice costosa…sono io il quadro, e tu il poveraccio.

Radical transformation
Through these new solid fingers
They bring the nonsense between my legs, but
Attached to my poetical meaning
They can’t crumble
Like your mortal debate
On nothing.

the casts are collage

2006-03-10T12:19:00.000Z

2006-03-10T12:15:00.000Z

thinking about: " a narrative architeXture in which any given site of either inner emotional or exterior urban experience is fragmentary and limited, both labyrinthian and mappable, a geographico-affective nexus of layered and SIMULTANEOUS rendering of expereince.