John Martin, Mezzotint, John Milton’s Paradise Lost, 1824
lime kiln (it was an accident) / ink on paper Christina McPhee 2011.At Lime Kiln, Big Sur: there are three vertical kilns in the redwoods. Used in the nineteenth century and early twentieth, for refining lye from the limestone exposed at the site on steep slopes. Thick redwoods were cut down, the stream flooded with lye, to be shipped by boat up the coast to San Francisco, to build the streets.Now the redwoods take over the towers. Flipped the drawing upside down, so that the heliotropic markings appear at the apex. A sepia-grey-gold ink introduced just below the top, beginning of a structure. The drawing inspired Pamela Z’s song “Lime Kiln” from our collaborative chamber work scored for voice and electronics, multi-screen video, and chamber ensemble, Carbon Song Cycle... (pictures at the link to Berkeley Art Museum / Pacific Film Archive)…. more
"Trying to get a baby or a fussy toddler to sit still for a photograph can feel like a herculean task. Luckily, it only takes a second to get the shot. In the nineteenth century, however, it was a different story—particularly when it came to tintype portraits, which required a long exposure.
Photographer Laura Larson’s series, Hidden Mother, presents a survey of nineteenth-century tintype portraits in which the mother of the child was included in the photograph, but obscured.
In some instances, the mother would hold her child, with a cloth or props hiding her from the lens, or she would be painted over by the photographer after the image had been taken. In other examples, the mother is entirely absent from the frame, save for an arm, holding the child in place.
The results are both funny and slightly disturbing. The mother appears as an uncanny presence, Larson writes in a statement. Often, she is swathed in fabric, like a ghost.”
Laura Larson’s work frames the loss of face
"If painting aims to make every organ function as an eye, if it aims to make the very entrails see, and if music makes every organ and pore of the body function as an ear attuned to rhythm and melody, if, as Deleuze suggests, painting ever more deeply materializes the body while music spiritualizes it, this is because, through the various arts, the body is, for a moment at least, directly touched by the forces of chaos from which it so carefully shields itself in habit, cliché, and doxa, those movements of containment that render only predictable and preproduced sensations, not sensations that announce the future."
Elizabeth Grosz, “Chaos, Cosmos, Territory, Architecture in Chaos, Territory, Art. (via groansofcreation)
Directly touched by the forces of chaos contemporaryartdaily
"The first architectural gesture is acted upon the earth: it is our grave or our foundation. A plane against a surface of variable curvature, the first frame is an excavation. But perhaps this is just the bedrock of western thought. Unlike our western architecture whose first frame confronts the earth, Japanese architecture raises its screens to teh wind, the light, and the rain. Partitions and parasols rather than excavations: screens emphasize the void."
Deleuze and Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus. (via groansofcreation)
To the wind and the sky :
"Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to was never there… Where is there a place for you to be? No place… Nothing outside you can give you any place… In yourself right now is all the place you’ve got."
Flannery O’Connor (via likeafieldmouse)