Saturday, 25 September 2010
Friday, 24 September 2010
Tape art looks set to become the latest art medium phenomenon. From Erika Iris Simmon's cassette tape art, through to Mark Khaisman's amazing collage work to Bruno Mars' terrible new music video, it's the band wagon to be seen on. I have just found my personal favorite that falls into this category; Laura Labrin's woven tape art.
What I love so much about it, is that it gives you that same feeling as when you walk into a library or a book shop; marvelling at the shear amount of sentences, words and letters that fill the shelves, just as here where Labrin's work holds secret images from numerous video tapes, all hidden in the structure of the fabric... creative poetry in motion.
Friday, 17 September 2010
I'm crossing my fingers for folkesque roots, peppered with passion. Radioactive may just be this recognition of where they came from, that fans began to miss on the last record, and what really, honestly suits them and their audience.
It ran for just 3 days in the city, this first of which marked the 47th year the Turkish poet Nazim Hikmet Ran, and which a quote taken from the poet's novel; 'At Haydarpaşa Train Station, in the spring of 1941, it is 3 o’clock. Sun, exhaustion and rush lay on the stairs...' the installation ends.
Sunday, 12 September 2010
Wednesday, 8 September 2010
"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night..."
"...who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,
who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts, who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,
who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish"
I wish with all of my might that I was someone who read and understood poetry, unfortunatly the time I spent knowing the most was through my GCSE years with an exuberant English teacher at my side.
The closest I have come to enjoying and understanding poetry through my own experience is through this poem by Ginsberg, so it's only natural that I am looking forward to the film.
Having seen the trailer it has only just made a connection in my mind that Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's third album could be a direct refence to the poem.
The album is amazing, and I suggest that you give it a listen.
One day I would liketo be a wiser woman, sipping coffee in a smoky bar, burried in books and elegant in poetry.