As professionals, my colleagues and I have had the experience of walking through the galleries after hours when the lights are off, a truly magical and privileged moment. The familiar paintings and sculptures are there like silent beings in the night, asleep but physically present. Shut down my video installations for the night, however, and nothing remains. Not only is there no movement or sound, there are also no images on the walls–only empty, cold rooms. No works of art are present, even in trace amounts. These pieces are not sleeping; they are dead. So the question becomes: Where did they go?

Bill Viola, “Permanent Impermanence,” Mortality, Immortality.  The Legacy of 20th Century Art. Miguel Angel Corzo, editor.  The Getty Conservation Institute, Los Angeles, 1999. (via thinkingconservator)

T F m
September 30, 2015

As professionals, my colleagues and I have had the experience of walking through the galleries after hours when the lights are off, a truly magical and privileged moment. The familiar paintings and sculptures are there like silent beings in the night, asleep but physically present. Shut down my video installations for the night, however, and nothing remains. Not only is there no movement or sound, there are also no images on the walls–only empty, cold rooms. No works of art are present, even in trace amounts. These pieces are not sleeping; they are dead. So the question becomes: Where did they go?

Bill Viola, “Permanent Impermanence,” Mortality, Immortality.  The Legacy of 20th Century Art. Miguel Angel Corzo, editor.  The Getty Conservation Institute, Los Angeles, 1999. (via thinkingconservator)

T F m
September 30, 2015

merlin:

Be Bop Deluxe – “Maid In Heaven” (Live; Old Grey Whistle Test; 1975)

[This is the resuscitated and link-repaired re-re-repost of something from (yikes) five years ago.]

Okay. So, I still haven’t stopped listening to this goddamned song (via the original Futurama version) as well as watching this video. Again, repeatedly.

And, it was only last night that I noticed something weird. And, now I can’t stop thinking about it. Let alone un-notice it. And it makes me like this performance even better.

USE CAUTION: GUITAR NERDERY, NEXT 15 PARAGRAPHS. EXPECT DELAYS.

If you’re vaguely interested (which you almost certainly aren’t), watch the video again, at least from the beginning through the first verse.

Got it? Okay, then.

Didja notice 4 things?

  1. Bill’s aggressive use of whammy bar during the intro;
  2. Bill’s subsequent tuning problem with (what sounds like) his “G”;[1]
  3. Bill’s low-key ability to minimize the clams generated by such a tuning problem;
  4. While still shredding like a goddamned tweaked-out weedwhacker.

On TV. With the near-nudity of a small band. While singing. In a white blazer and red pants.

Okay, got your interest? Go back and listen again with headphones, because it’s actually really fucking out of tune. A little rancid. Maybe a quarter-step or more? Wow.

So, first, off, I have no idea what the man was thinking by dive-bombing with a (“boingy-boingy-boing-TANG!-PROOOHNNNG!”) Bigsby vibrato on an ES–345; mind you, this is during the opening bars of a song being performed for national TV.

Boys: that Bigsby ain’t no Floyd Rose-havin’ Edward Van Halen-type situation–no, sir, that there is an early 60s guitar. And the vibrato is about as forgiving as a fat kid with an expired taco coupon.

Anyway. Wow. Out of tune.

But. Through some insane, in-the-moment combination of adjustments[2], these acrobatics escaped me until I’d watched it at least 20 times.

Yes, stipulated: I’m the king of sharp singing as well as the pitiful, Quasimodo-like victim of 5 years in the blast zone of a ferocious Orange amp. So, maybe I’m not a good bar for whether it’s empirically noticeable.

Still. You gotta hand it to the man. Because, that’s some ninja shit to pull off under pressure.

Also, not to talk about work, but, this? This business here? This is expertise.

This is about knowing your shit so deeply, and so inside and out, that you can not only route around a potential catastrophe, but you can do it while looking like you’re getting a surprisingly B-plus handie from your pal’s stepmother. And, in a white blazer and red pants, no less.

Awesome.


  1. And, isn’t it always the “B” or the “G?” Skinny little cocksuckers.  ↩

  2. Guessing…alternate fingerings for the parts and chords, wide finger vibrato, extensive palm muting, and quickie volume adjustments?  ↩


T F m
September 30, 2015

merlin:

Be Bop Deluxe – “Maid In Heaven” (Live; Old Grey Whistle Test; 1975)

[This is the resuscitated and link-repaired re-re-repost of something from (yikes) five years ago.]

Okay. So, I still haven’t stopped listening to this goddamned song (via the original Futurama version) as well as watching this video. Again, repeatedly.

And, it was only last night that I noticed something weird. And, now I can’t stop thinking about it. Let alone un-notice it. And it makes me like this performance even better.

USE CAUTION: GUITAR NERDERY, NEXT 15 PARAGRAPHS. EXPECT DELAYS.

If you’re vaguely interested (which you almost certainly aren’t), watch the video again, at least from the beginning through the first verse.

Got it? Okay, then.

Didja notice 4 things?

  1. Bill’s aggressive use of whammy bar during the intro;
  2. Bill’s subsequent tuning problem with (what sounds like) his “G”;[1]
  3. Bill’s low-key ability to minimize the clams generated by such a tuning problem;
  4. While still shredding like a goddamned tweaked-out weedwhacker.

On TV. With the near-nudity of a small band. While singing. In a white blazer and red pants.

Okay, got your interest? Go back and listen again with headphones, because it’s actually really fucking out of tune. A little rancid. Maybe a quarter-step or more? Wow.

So, first, off, I have no idea what the man was thinking by dive-bombing with a (“boingy-boingy-boing-TANG!-PROOOHNNNG!”) Bigsby vibrato on an ES–345; mind you, this is during the opening bars of a song being performed for national TV.

Boys: that Bigsby ain’t no Floyd Rose-havin’ Edward Van Halen-type situation–no, sir, that there is an early 60s guitar. And the vibrato is about as forgiving as a fat kid with an expired taco coupon.

Anyway. Wow. Out of tune.

But. Through some insane, in-the-moment combination of adjustments[2], these acrobatics escaped me until I’d watched it at least 20 times.

Yes, stipulated: I’m the king of sharp singing as well as the pitiful, Quasimodo-like victim of 5 years in the blast zone of a ferocious Orange amp. So, maybe I’m not a good bar for whether it’s empirically noticeable.

Still. You gotta hand it to the man. Because, that’s some ninja shit to pull off under pressure.

Also, not to talk about work, but, this? This business here? This is expertise.

This is about knowing your shit so deeply, and so inside and out, that you can not only route around a potential catastrophe, but you can do it while looking like you’re getting a surprisingly B-plus handie from your pal’s stepmother. And, in a white blazer and red pants, no less.

Awesome.


  1. And, isn’t it always the “B” or the “G?” Skinny little cocksuckers.  ↩

  2. Guessing…alternate fingerings for the parts and chords, wide finger vibrato, extensive palm muting, and quickie volume adjustments?  ↩


T F m
September 30, 2015

“The mice who received the implants are thriving and while today they need to be connected by a wire to the computer so their brain activity can be monitored, in the future this could be wireless, and the same technique could be used to integrate an electric mesh with a human brain. 

The research, entitled Syringe-injectable electronics, is published in the journal Nature Nanotechnology. 

What is neural lace? 

 Neural lace is a concept first coined in The Culture, a series of sci-fi books written by Iain M Banks, where humans living on another planet install genetically engineered glands in their brains that can secrete stimulants, psychedelics and sedatives any time they like.”

(via Neural lace has been invented to organically connect your brain with a computer)


T F m
September 29, 2015

Likewise, what passed largely unnoticed in Paul Chan’s production of Waiting for Godot in New Orleans was Chan’s peculiar positioning of the artist in relation to the work: he did not write the play, direct it, or act in it. The set was essentially a city street. Chan’s artistic involvement consisted largely of spending many months teaching as a volunteer in a local college, building close relationships with local community groups and grassroots organizations—in other words, creating the conditions necessary for the production and reception of the play, while ensuring that part of the money raised for the project would go to local needs other than culture.

Art Without Artists? | e-flux

I’ve added the bold-face


T F m
September 29, 2015

Likewise, what passed largely unnoticed in Paul Chan’s production of Waiting for Godot in New Orleans was Chan’s peculiar positioning of the artist in relation to the work: he did not write the play, direct it, or act in it. The set was essentially a city street. Chan’s artistic involvement consisted largely of spending many months teaching as a volunteer in a local college, building close relationships with local community groups and grassroots organizations—in other words, creating the conditions necessary for the production and reception of the play, while ensuring that part of the money raised for the project would go to local needs other than culture.

Art Without Artists? | e-flux

I’ve added the bold-face


T F m
September 29, 2015

what most urgently needs to be done is to further expand the space of art by developing new circulation networks through which art can encounter its publics—through education, publication, dissemination, and so forth—rather than perpetuate existing institutions of art and their agents at the expense of the agency of artists by immortalizing the exhibition as art’s only possible, ultimate destination.


T F m
September 29, 2015

what most urgently needs to be done is to further expand the space of art by developing new circulation networks through which art can encounter its publics—through education, publication, dissemination, and so forth—rather than perpetuate existing institutions of art and their agents at the expense of the agency of artists by immortalizing the exhibition as art’s only possible, ultimate destination.


T F m
September 29, 2015

“Sex, in this case, is used to breed the characteristics of the badge’s light pattern as defined through a virtual genome. Things like the color range, blinking rate, and saturation of the light pattern are mapped into a set of diploid (two copies of each gene) chromosomes (code) (spec). Just as in biological sex, a badge randomly picks one copy of each gene and packages them into a sperm and an egg (every badge is a hermaphrodite, much like plants). A badge’s sperm is transmitted wirelessly to another host badge, where it’s mixed with the host’s egg and a new individual blending traits of both parents is born. The new LED pattern replaces the current pattern on the egg donor’s badge.”

(via Sex, Circuits & Deep House « bunnie’s blog)


T F m
September 28, 2015