Katharina Grosse At De Pont Museum

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Ger­man artist Katha­rina Grosse will be show­ing her new exhibit, Two Younger Women Come In and Pull Out a Table at De Pont Museum of Con­tem­po­rary Art in Tilburg, the Nether­lands, start­ing this week.

The artist’s enor­mous tech­ni­colour works of sty­ro­foam, acrylic and and plas­tic cre­ate sur­real dream­scapes in gal­leries and street cor­ners. In One Floor Up More Highly, jagged shards of crys­tal sty­ro­foam emerge from hillocks and boul­ders of dyed soil. In Atoms Inside Bal­loons, enor­mous latex balls float and dan­gle from the ceil­ing, while Faux Rocks fea­tures glob­u­lar mar­bles of sty­ro­foam that seem sus­pended in mid-bounce.

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Her work inves­ti­gates the inter­sec­tion between gallery and street art, per­for­mance and instal­la­tion, graf­fiti and abstract expres­sion­ism, putting the viewer in the cen­tre of the work.

Two Younger Women Come In and Pull Out a Table will be at the De Pont Museum in Tilburg from 16 Feb­ru­ary to 9 June.

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Ken­neth Anger’s Lucifer Jacket

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Designed by La Boca, the Lucifer Jacket is a homage to the satin jacket fea­tured in Ken­neth Anger’s 1972 film Lucifer Ris­ing, and will only be pro­duced as a very lim­ited edi­tion (less than 100) avail­able from today at Six­pack France online store.

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Room 237

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For those who are not fans of The Shin­ing, Room 237 may not appear to be your kind of film, but look past the sub­ject of its analy­sis and you still have an inter­est­ing and sub­ver­sive doc­u­men­tary. Rod­ney Ascher’s ado­ra­tion and enchant­ment of Kubrick’s clas­sic hor­ror film led him to find out more about the film and through that jour­ney he stum­bled upon a realm of exhaus­tive, sub­jec­tive the­o­ries relat­ing to it. In this new doc­u­men­tary sev­eral of these ideas are analysed in great depth and with tremen­dous vivac­ity thanks to Ascher’s direction.

Some of the the­o­ries seem rel­a­tively crack-pot when first spo­ken about but as the film etches through each hypoth­e­sis and every point of ref­er­ence, they begin to take illus­tri­ous shape. Whether or not you agree with beliefs that The Shin­ing pointed to notions such as Kubrick film­ing the 1969 Moon land­ing, the geno­cide of the Native Amer­i­cans or the machi­na­tions of Hitler’s exter­mi­na­tions of the Jews, the the­o­rists always give an inter­est­ing lec­ture on why they believe it to be so.

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For film stu­dents, crit­ics and fanat­ics, this is a ground-breaking doc­u­men­tary about the debates and dis­cus­sions of film. Espe­cially for the film stud­ies fac­tion, Room 237 proves the worth of analy­sis in a direc­tor, star or genre. Not many know of the degrees of detail in which peo­ple read into films and Room 237 is an expert exam­ple of show­ing some cinema-goers’ unique per­cep­tions. As dense at it may be at points, the film runs through the bunch of the­o­ries, always with more than one astound­ing exam­i­na­tion. Fur­ther­more, Ascher uses snip­pets from var­i­ous hor­ror films to envi­sion some of the interviewee’s sto­ries (many clips of peo­ple in cin­e­mas cor­re­spond­ing with the­o­rist X talk­ing about their first expe­ri­ence of The Shin­ing, for exam­ple), thus alle­vi­at­ing some of the bland­ness that comes from only hear­ing the voices of the Shin­ing enthusiasts.

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It will not be to everyone’s taste and its commercial-fate may not be up to par with the reg­u­lar Hol­ly­wood releases, but even with the slight­est bit of suc­cess (no doubt it will sur­pass what might be expected of it) it could eas­ily become the start of a new trend in film-orientated doc­u­men­tary film­mak­ing. Ascher and pro­ducer Tim Kirk have already noted in inter­views the wealth of study with the films of David Lynch and Ale­jan­dro Jodor­owsky (to which any film fan could add on an array of other direc­to­r­ial names) and so the oppor­tu­nity to do what Ascher and Kirk have done is excit­ingly open. Room 237 is an eye-opening film, not only for The Shin­ing, but for what it means to per­ceive film; eas­ily one of the finest cel­e­bra­tions of cin­ema – and with hav­ing just explored one exam­ple in the plethora of movie history.


Destroy The Picture: Painting The Void

Spatial Concept 'Waiting' 1960 by Lucio Fontana 1899-1968

Destroy the Pic­ture: Paint­ing the Void, 1949–1962 focuses on one of the most sig­nif­i­cant devel­op­ments in con­tem­po­rary abstract paint­ing: the artist’s lit­eral assault on the pic­ture plane. Respond­ing to the phys­i­cal and psy­cho­log­i­cal destruc­tion wrought by World War II—especially the exis­ten­tial cri­sis result­ing from the atomic bomb—artists ripped, cut, burned, and affixed objects to the can­vas in lieu of paint. Destroy the Pic­ture empha­sizes this inter­na­tion­ally shared artis­tic sen­si­bil­ity in the con­text of dev­as­tat­ing global change and dynamic artis­tic dia­logues, offer­ing an inno­v­a­tive and expan­sive view of art mak­ing in the post­war period.

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As artists from war-torn coun­tries like Italy and Japan—including Lucio Fontana, Alberto Burri, Kazuo Shi­raga, and Shozo Shimamoto—channeled their ruined sur­round­ings into artis­tic form, artists through­out the world—such as Yves Klein and Niki de Saint Phalle in France, John Latham in the United King­dom, Robert Rauschen­berg and Lee Bon­te­cou in the United States, Otto Müehl in Aus­tria, and Manolo Mil­lares in Spain, among others—pursued sim­i­lar approaches and strate­gies. Destroy the Pic­ture presents an oppor­tu­nity to recon­sider the pro­found reper­cus­sions of this remark­ably coher­ent approach in paint­ing, from artists’ early exper­i­ments with trans­lat­ing ges­tures into mate­ri­als to their empha­sis on a rup­ture between two and three dimen­sions, as well as the expan­sion of the paint­ing medium to incor­po­rate per­for­mance, assem­blage, and time-based strate­gies. In many cases, the exhi­bi­tion places the work of now-established artists back into the rad­i­cal con­text in which it orig­i­nally emerged.

Destroy the Pic­ture fea­tures approx­i­mately 100 works cre­ated between 1949 and 1962 by artists from eight coun­tries, includ­ing Lee Bon­te­cou, Alberto Burri, Lucio Fontana, Sal­va­tore Scarpitta, and Kazuo Shi­raga, in addi­tion to Gérard Deschamps, François Dufrêne, Jean Fautrier, Adolf Frohner, Ray­mond Hains, Yves Klein, John Latham, Gus­tav Met­zger, Otto Müehl, Manolo Mil­lares, Saburo Murakami, Robert Rauschen­berg, Niki de Saint Phalle, Shozo Shi­mamoto, Antoni Tàpies, Chiyu Uemae, Jacques Vil­leglé, Wolf Vostell, and Michio Yoshihara.

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3Doodler: The World’s First 3D Printing Pen

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Have you ever just wished you could lift your pen off the paper and see your draw­ing become a real three dimen­sional object?

3Doodler is the world’s first 3D Print­ing Pen. Using ABS plas­tic (the mate­r­ial used by many 3D print­ers), 3Doodler draws in the air or on sur­faces. It’s com­pact and easy to use, and requires no soft­ware or com­put­ers. You just plug it into a power socket and can start draw­ing any­thing within min­utes. Oh, and it’s also the most afford­able way to 3D print… by a looong way!

As 3Doodler draws, it extrudes heated plas­tic, which quickly cools and solid­i­fies into a strong sta­ble struc­ture. This allows you to build an infi­nite vari­ety of shapes and items with ease! Most peo­ple will instantly be able to trace objects on paper, and after only a few hours of prac­tice you will be able to make far more intri­cate objects.

Check out 3Doodler: The World’s First 3D Print­ing Pen on their Kick­starter page.


Max Capacity: Net Necromancer

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Glitch video/GIF artist Max Capac­ity work pushes the grainy VHS cut-ups and early home com­puter bit con­straints of 1980s cyber­punk into the dig­i­tal realm. Net­work Awe­some and Radosaur Pro­duc­tions inter­viewed him for Tumblr’s Sto­ry­board effort. “Max Capac­ity: Net Necro­mancer

We love the work of artist Max Capac­ity. I will ven­ture here to say that his ani­mated GIFs are post­mod­ern, com­bin­ing in them glitch artpixel art, movies and stuff I can­not even start to describe. The fact that he uses the name Max Capac­ity is prob­a­bly not a coin­ci­dence as he has a lot of work to show up for. I can spend hours jump­ing from his Flickr site to his Tum­blr site to his YouTube chan­nel check­ing out his uni­verse of pro­lific cre­ation. You have to visit Max Capacity’s sites.

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1922 Kodachrome Test Footage

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This clip is a very early, full-color Kodachrome film made by Kodak in 1922 to test new film stock and color pro­cess­ing. It is a lovely lit­tle four-and-a-half min­utes of pretty actresses ges­tur­ing for the cam­era. The color and light­ing are exquisite—all warm reds with flat­ter­ing highlights—making it a purely enjoy­able thing to watch.

In 1922, for all its tech­ni­cal achieve­ments, Kodak hadn’t yet done away with the flicker that gave movies one of their ear­li­est and most endur­ing nick­names: the “flicks.” The flicker resulted from vari­a­tions in film speed pro­duced by the slow, hand-cranked cam­eras of the time and by vari­a­tions in the den­sity of the film itself.

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Even more inter­est­ing to a mod­ern viewer are the women’s ges­tures. They act out flut­tery, inno­cent mod­esty; warm mater­nal love; and in the longest sequence, sexy, puckered-lip vamp­ing. Their open expres­sions of feel­ing and the par­tic­u­lar way they move their hands and tilt their heads, even more than the fash­ions of their clothes and makeup, imme­di­ately mark them as women of the inter­war period. Recently a Russ­ian film scholar, Oksana Bul­gakowa, has shown how var­i­ous feel­ings and mean­ings were coded in the ges­tures of early film actors. Some of these are so unfa­mil­iar now, they seem like a for­eign language.

Today, when we watch a TV show or a movie, we see a wide range of act­ing styles and behav­iors. A hun­dred years from now, which ones will be seen as defin­ing our age?


L’arte dei rumori

Noise tri­umphs and reigns supreme over the sen­si­bil­ity of men.”

…This lim­ited cir­cle of pure sounds must be bro­ken, and the infi­nite vari­ety of “noise-sound” conquered.”

… I am not a musi­cian, I have there­fore no acousti­cal predil­ic­tions, nor any works to defend. I am a Futur­ist painter using a much loved art to project my deter­mi­na­tion to renew every­thing. And so, bolder than a pro­fes­sional musi­cian could be, uncon­cerned by my appar­ent incom­pe­tence and con­vinced that all rights and pos­si­bil­i­ties open up to dar­ing, I have been able to ini­ti­ate the great renewal of music by means of the Art of Noises.”

Here are the 6 fam­i­lies of noises of the Futur­ist orches­tra which we will soon set in motion mechanically:

1 2 3 4 5 6
Rum­bles
Roars
Explo­sions
Crashes
Splashes
Booms
Whis­tles
Hisses
Snorts
Whis­pers
Mur­murs
Mum­bles
Grum­bles
Gurgles
Screeches
Creaks
Rum­bles
Buzzes
Crack­les
Scrapes
Noises obtained by per­cus­sion on metal, wood, skin, stone, tar­ra­cotta, etc. Voices of ani­mals and men:
Shouts
Screams
Groans
Shrieks
Howls
Laughs
Weezes
Sobs”

These are all quo­ta­tions from Luigi Russolo’s Futur­ist man­i­festo The Art of Noises (L’arte dei Rumori). Luigi Rus­solo — painter, com­poser, builder of musi­cal instru­ments, and first-hour mem­ber of the Ital­ian Futur­ist move­ment– was a cru­cial fig­ure in the evo­lu­tion of twentieth-century aes­thet­ics. Cre­ator of the first sys­tem­atic poet­ics of noise and inven­tor of what has been con­sid­ered the first mechan­i­cal sound syn­the­sizer, Rus­solo looms large in the devel­op­ment of twentieth-century music.

He devel­oped new instru­ments called intonaru­mori (‘noise-intoners’) to repli­cate the booms, hiss­ing and buzzing of the machine age. He brought his con­tro­ver­sial per­for­mances to Lon­don in 1914 and these expanded to major con­certs in the 1920s. Rus­solo spent an increas­ing amount of time in Paris dur­ing this decade, per­fect­ing and invent­ing other instru­ments. These included the Rus­solo­fono, a key­board capa­ble of com­bin­ing the sounds of indi­vid­ual intonaru­mori. Between 1931 and 1933 Rus­solo stud­ied occult phi­los­o­phy in Spain.

Russolo’s inter­est in the occult was a leit­mo­tif for his life and a foun­da­tion for his art of noises. Russolo’s aes­thet­ics of noise, and the machines he called the intonaru­mori, were intended to boost prac­ti­tion­ers into higher states of spir­i­tual con­scious­ness. Rus­solo was a mul­ti­fac­eted man in whom the drive to keep up with the lat­est sci­en­tific trends coex­isted with an embrace of the irrational.

Using his own devices, Rus­solo gave con­certs in Europe’s largest cities, at times incor­po­rat­ing tra­di­tional orches­tral instru­ments. For the most part the response to his music and inven­tions was vio­lent. Many Avant-garde com­posers, all mod­ern indus­trial bands, noise bands, etc., are in some way indebted to Rus­solo and his futur­ist visions emanated from the occult. Lis­ten below to an exam­ple of Russolo’s music.


Genesis Breyer P-Orridge and Aaron Dilloway

WEDNESDAY 2/20/2013 10pm-4am
WIERD is proud to present a live per­for­mance by
Gen­e­sis Breyer P-Orridge and Aaron Dil­loway
With DJs Anarexia, Tesco Jane, Frankie Teardrop
Home Sweet Home 131 Chrystie St. @ Delancey NY

Aaron Dil­loway has been releas­ing and record­ing music since the age of 16. He was a mem­ber of exper­i­men­tal bands Couch, Galen and Uni­ver­sal Indi­ans. He is a for­mer gui­tarist and tape manip­u­la­tor for the exper­i­men­tal band Wolf Eyes, which he left in 2005 to live most of that year in Kath­mandu, Nepal. While his wife did her grad­u­ate work there, he roamed the streets record­ing every sound he could, many of which are used in his recent record­ings and performances.

Cur­rently he runs the noise record label, record store and mailorder Han­son Records, which he began in Brighton, Michi­gan in 1994. Han­son then moved to Ann Arbor, Michi­gan for sev­eral years, before finally set­tling in Ober­lin, Ohio, after a brief return to Ann Arbor. He per­forms solo using eight track tapes and vocal sounds, and records mod­u­lar syn­the­sizer music as Spine Scav­enger. Recently, he has played with an ever-changing cast of sound artists under the name The Nevari Butch­ers. — hansonrecords.net/

Gen­e­sis Breyer P-Orridge (b. Neil Meg­son) is a musi­cian and artist whose career began in Hull, Eng­land in 1969. She was a found­ing mem­ber of the hugely influ­en­tial bands Throb­bing Gris­tle (founders of Indus­trial music) and Psy­chic TV.

In 1993, P-Orridge began the art/life project of becom­ing a sin­gle pan­drog­y­nous entity along with her (now late) wife Lady Jaye Breyer P-Orridge. — genesisbreyerporridge.com