Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
my body as a needle passing through the pedestrians' passing moments, weaving them into a tapestry
blurring the boundaries between aesthetics and transcendent experience
http://blog.art21.org/2009/09/17/meet-the-season-5-artist-kimsooja/
http://blog.art21.org/2009/09/17/meet-the-season-5-artist-kimsooja/
Friday, May 21, 2010
This was my grade 10 monologue
Ingemar: I should have told her everything. Mama loved stories like that. It's not so bad if you think about it. It could have been worse. What about Laika, the space dog? They put her in a Sputnik, and sent her into space. They attached wires to her heart and her brain to see how she felt. I dont think she felt so good. She spun around there for five months until her doggy bag was empty. She starved to death.
It's important to have things to compare with. I think about that woman who went to Ethiopia to be a missionary...they beat her to death with clubs--right while she was preaching. You have to compare all the time.
I think about the guy who saw Tarzan in a movie and tried to swing on a high tension wire and fell dead on the spot. You should never think you're Tarzan. I should have told her everything while she still had her strength. Stories from life, Mom really loved those. She collects them. You have to have something to tell her. I like it when she laughs, then she puts her books down. The problem is she reads a lot. It's good to get her to think of something else.
It bothers me to think of that poor dog Laika. Terrible sending a dog in a spaceship without enough food. She had to do it for human progress, she didn't ask to go.
I think about the guy who tried for a world record in jumping buses with a motorcycle. He lined up 31 buses. If he'd left it at 30, maybe he would have survived. Imagine, missing the world record by one bus. The last one. He just touched it with his back wheel. I think about the guy who walked across the sports arena. He got a javelin right through the chest. He must have been very surprised.
In fact, I've been lucky compared to others. You have to compare so you can get a little distance on things. It's important to keep a certain distance.
It's important to have things to compare with. I think about that woman who went to Ethiopia to be a missionary...they beat her to death with clubs--right while she was preaching. You have to compare all the time.
I think about the guy who saw Tarzan in a movie and tried to swing on a high tension wire and fell dead on the spot. You should never think you're Tarzan. I should have told her everything while she still had her strength. Stories from life, Mom really loved those. She collects them. You have to have something to tell her. I like it when she laughs, then she puts her books down. The problem is she reads a lot. It's good to get her to think of something else.
It bothers me to think of that poor dog Laika. Terrible sending a dog in a spaceship without enough food. She had to do it for human progress, she didn't ask to go.
I think about the guy who tried for a world record in jumping buses with a motorcycle. He lined up 31 buses. If he'd left it at 30, maybe he would have survived. Imagine, missing the world record by one bus. The last one. He just touched it with his back wheel. I think about the guy who walked across the sports arena. He got a javelin right through the chest. He must have been very surprised.
In fact, I've been lucky compared to others. You have to compare so you can get a little distance on things. It's important to keep a certain distance.
"I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue."
— Pablo Neruda
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue."
— Pablo Neruda
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
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