Oskar Schlemmer born September 4th, 1888 in Stuttgart, Gernany. He was a painter, sculptor, designer and choreographer. He was also a professor at the Bauhaus School.
Triadisches Ballett (Triadic Ballet) is a ballet developed by Schlemmer. It premiered in Stuttgart, on 30 September 1922, with music composed by Paul Hindemith, after formative performances dating back to 1916, with the performers Elsa Hotzel and Albert Berger. The ballet became the most widely performed avant-garde artistic dance and while Schlemmer was at the Bauhaus from 1921 to 1929, the ballet toured, helping to spread the ethos of the Bauhaus.
The Triadic Ballet represents a place of tensions followed by resolutions, where Schlemmer successfully conducts a renegotiation of deeply-rooted tendencies: abstraction-expression; mechanised-human bodies; heterogeneity-homogeneity of an art work constituted by a dialogue of different mediums.
The very idea of dance as a performing art lies at the heart of these theoretical issues. Schlemmer will help us to define first abstract dance as a new language, relying on symbols; second, performance as new genre, integrating in a common vision and purpose heterogeneous forms of artistic expression; and the modern use of rhythmical movement as a new medium.
This video dance piece of the “Tridiac Ballet” is reconstruction by Margarete Hastings in 1970. This was possible with of support of Ludwig Grote and Xanti Schawinsky (Schelemer students from Bauhaus School) and also with Tut Schlemmer, the widow of Schlemmer.
Jacob Kirkegaard has received international attention for his artistic ventures into “hidden” acoustic spheres.
His installations, compositions & performances deal with acoustic spaces or phenomena that usually remain imperceptible. Using unorthodox methods for recording, Kirkegaard captures and contextualizes hitherto unheard sounds from within a variety of environments: a geyser, a sand dune, a nuclear power plant, an empty room, a TV tower, and even sounds from the human inner ear itself.
Based in Berlin, Kirkegaard is a graduate of the Academy for Media Arts in Cologne, Germany. Since 1995, Kirkegaard has presented his works at exhibitions and at festivals and conferences throughout the world. He has released five albums (mostly on the British label Touch) and is a member of the sound art collective freq_out.
Like all of previous Kirkegaard’s work, Labyrinthitis is not only a fascinating concept, it’s also fascinating to listen to. The recording starts with high frequency sounds that find their way into your skull and settle there. It’s an immersive sound ending after 40 minutes (unlike the tinnitus that Labyrinthitis patients hear, which cannot be switched off and ultimately becomes very tiring and disorientating!)
Kirkegaard relies on a principle: when two frequencies at a certain ratio are played into the ear, additional vibrations in the inner ear produce a third frequency. This third frequency is known to medics as a DPOAE (distortion product otoacoustic emission); musicians prefer the snappier handle of ‘Tartini tone’.
4 Rooms explores the phenomenon of radiation using the medium of sound. It’s a musical piece that wants to capture the sound of four abandoned spaces inside the Zone of Exclusion in Chernobyl. Kirkegaard deliberately picked four deserted rooms that were once an active meeting point for people. An audiotorium, a gymnasium, a church in the village of Krasno and a swimming pool in Pripyat. He tried to capture the decay and invisible radioactivity in sound and video. He recorded the sound of empty rooms, replayed that recording in the same room and recorded it again. After several rerecordings, each room produced a different drone.
Eldfjall consists of geothermal recordings of vibrations in the ground around the area of Krisuvik, Geysir and Myvatn in Iceland. The recordings have been carried out using accelerometers, vibration sensor microphones. These are stuck into the earth at various places around the geysirs, mapping the sonic aspects of volcanic activity at the surface of the earth. A stick can be attached, to be inserted into — for example — the earth at desired places.
Anita Bryant (famous Florida orange juice and anti-gay spokeswoman) narrates this film that tries to simplify its drug abuse message with an analogy of kids putting together a contraption out of Lego blocks.
Although the metaphors often don’t make sense, the visual impact of the film is stunning and could easily be quite popular with individuals consuming illicit drugs. Also, like most anti-drug films, this could be a tempting introduction to drugs for some youths yearning to escape their “boring” lives or to rebel against their parents.
We’ll laugh about this tomorrow.
It’s times like this I hope will follow me.
i hope they follow me. i hope they follow me. oh oh i hope they follow me.
At the end of the 70’s Almodóvar started shaking things up next to Fabio McNamara, in what would be known as La Movida Madrileña, a countercultural movement that took place mainly in Madrid during the Spanish transition after Francisco Franco’s death in 1975. It was characterized by freedom of expression, transgression of the taboos imposed by the Franco Regime, use of recreational drugs and a new spirit of freedom on the streets.
After many successful live performances, Almodóvar and McNamara recorded ¡Cómo está el servicio… de señoras! in 1983.
Today, Brazil is a widely, feverishly loved film, but once upon a time it had its share of detractors—specifically, those who financed it and released it in the U.S.
In the documentary The Battle of “Brazil,” critic Jack Mathews charts director Terry Gilliam and producer Arnon Milchan’s struggles to get Universal to put out the filmmaker’s cut, which the studio found too dark and difficult (marketing division president Marvin Antonowsky suggested it was more of an art-house specialty film than a mainstream movie).
Here, in a clip from the documentary, Gilliam and Milchan describe the first important—and disastrous—screening.
If you don’t know New Orleans Bounce Music or Sissy Bounce you’re seriously missing out! Bounce Music is an original New Orleans form of rap that’s been dominating radio and street culture locally for over 15 years!
For several years, social theorist rockstar Alix Chapman has been studying black queer performance and politics. He is currently researching Post-Katrina New Orleans ‘Sissy Bounce’ culture within the context of gender and race. Over the past several months Sissy Bounce artists such as Big Freedia, Vockah Redu and the Cru, Sissy Nobby, and Katey Red have made a huge impact, touring to New York and Los Angeles, attracting the attention of dance music pioneer Diplo, playing several showcases at SXSW.
The one thing that’s missing in the midst of the hype is an explanation of the history of the phenomenon, and very few people can speak on the history of this aspect of black trans/queer culture with as much authority as Chapman. In 2006 I started to hear about Sissy Bounce from queer activist friends who traveled to New Orleans to help out with the Common Ground Relief Organization. They were excited to find a really strong synergy in the DIY crossover of Bounce and Punk Rock, and started to spread the music around. I was thrilled when I found out Alix was deeply involved in research into the Sissy Bounce culture. In terms of street cred, he was one of the vocalists for Seattle’s infamous Infernal Noise Brigade who came to notoriety during the WTO protests in 1999.
This warning about the evils of “Sissy Bounce” is taken from an article called ‘Does Your Child “Sissy Bounce”? The Dangerous Anal Dance Trend Sweeping America’s Colleges’, check it out, it’s real and it’s fucking hilarious!:
‘As more and more people attempt to “sissy dance,” the consequences will be tragic. We may very well see a sharp upsurge in twenty-somethings trying college sodomy experiments. For white women, this can often lead to a lifetime within the insufferable walls of the big city sadomasochism, pleasuring ever larger black phalluses as they seek to feel something, anything in that overviolated back passages. These women will end up in the lowest depths, casting their white friends aside for the pungent musk, the hard bodies and the rapid pounding that are all hallmarks of the black intercourse experience.
For white males, the exposure to the homosexual lifestyle is simply tragic. They can look forward to a world of secret interracial orgies and a selling their bodies on waterfront piers just to feel that cheap thrill again, that 12-inch beer can girth crushing you against a wall and making you whimper like an injured puppy, screaming, crying for it to end when you really dream that it will never end. No, this is truly a nightmare no parent would ever want for their child.’
Brilliant, now start shaking that azz!
With a great collection of surreal-inspired digital collages, Julien Pacaud has created a series that channels what he calls “Perpendicular Dreams.” He works “with bargain-hunted vintage imagery and tries to go beyond the usual ‘cut and paste’ technique in order to create coherent-but– surrealistic strange worlds.”
Steven J. Bernstein was grunge-era Seattle’s favorite literary rebel, a skin-and-bones misfit with Coke-bottle eyeglasses whose raw and jaggedly hilarious poems were recorded by Sub-Pop, winning attention even as his bipolar disorder led him to take his own life in 1991. He was 41, but as this detailed biography reveals, he’d lived with hard-core intensity, whether as an adolescent mental-institution resident, a New York street musician, a self-medicating heroin user, or a teenage runaway on Ken Kesey’s magic bus.
I Am Secretly An Important Man, a hard-edged but compassionate documentary about the life and death of songwriter, poet and performance artist, takes its title from a line in Bernstein’s most famous poem, “Come Out Tonight.’’
His angry, surprisingly fresh, lyrical writings are about sensitive souls, drifters and drug addicts; people alienated by a society that refuses to understand them. He peeled back the ugliness and the darkness of life on the fringe to expose tender and not so tender human feeling. His unique rhythms, filled with humor and pain, were especially exciting when read in his own gravely voice. People packed into theaters, bars and cafes to hear him read and sing. Unfortunately much of Jesse’s work has not yet found the audience it deserves outside of the Pacific Northwest. Following is the theatrical trailer.
Being in the minority was a way of life for Bernstein. Known as the godfather of grunge, he didn’t live to hear the term and undoubtedly would have disdained it. He not only liked the naked elegance of the music, he helped shape it, opening for the bands (Nirvana, Big Black, Soundgarden, U-Men, the Crows) who went on to the big time, and working the crowd into a ecstatic heat. He liked to cause a stir. When in the mood, he added to his legend. When not, he complained about it.“All the stories about me are true,” he said.
In the following video, Bernstein reads his story ‘Face’ as we are guided through the illustrations by Triangle Slash. This is one of the best things I have ever heard and watch. Please allow the narrator to make you suffer through the whole video.