The broadcast is dead, long live the broadcast!
I may not be able to post as regularly as I did before the hiatus, but I still have the same desire to share interesting things with you, this time in a more personal and personalised way. I’m not sure I’ll have anything entirely new to say, but I’ll do my best to offer something worth your time. Thank you.
—
La Monte Young
Compositions 1960 #5
1960
[x]
I may not be able to post as regularly as I did before the hiatus, but I still have the same desire to share interesting things with you, this time in a more personal and personalised way. I’m not sure I’ll have anything entirely new to say, but I’ll do my best to offer something worth your time. Thank you.
—
La Monte Young
Compositions 1960 #5
1960
[x]
❤34
Announce to the audience when the piece will begin and end if there is a limit on duration. It may be of any duration.
Then announce that everyone may do whatever he wishes for the duration of the composition.
La Monte Young
Compositions 1960 #3
1960
[x]
Then announce that everyone may do whatever he wishes for the duration of the composition.
La Monte Young
Compositions 1960 #3
1960
[x]
❤18
The real reason behind the broadcast’s revival: an unsustainable number of poetry screenshots gathering dust in my saved messages.
The poems are from Multitudinous Heart: Selected Poems: A Bilingual Edition, Carlos Drummond de Andrade
The poems are from Multitudinous Heart: Selected Poems: A Bilingual Edition, Carlos Drummond de Andrade
❤15👏4
To stop the blood of flowers and rotate the order of things.
To die in the river, to die in the river.
To hear the heart of the rat. There’s no difference
Between the moon’s and my tribe’s silver.
To clean the field and run as far as the earth’s edge.
To carry in my breast the word: the crystal. At the door
The soap’s evaporating, the conflagration lit up the day.
To turn around, to turn around once more.
And to strip the frock. The poppy had bitten through the sky.
To walk the desert roads and drink shadows.
To feel the oak tree in the mouth of a spring.
To stop the blood of flowers, to stop the blood of flowers.
The altars look at each other, eye to eye.
To lie down on a blue cabbage.
Tomaž Šalamun, Death’s Window, from Child of Europe: A New Anthology of East European Poetry, ed. Michael March
To die in the river, to die in the river.
To hear the heart of the rat. There’s no difference
Between the moon’s and my tribe’s silver.
To clean the field and run as far as the earth’s edge.
To carry in my breast the word: the crystal. At the door
The soap’s evaporating, the conflagration lit up the day.
To turn around, to turn around once more.
And to strip the frock. The poppy had bitten through the sky.
To walk the desert roads and drink shadows.
To feel the oak tree in the mouth of a spring.
To stop the blood of flowers, to stop the blood of flowers.
The altars look at each other, eye to eye.
To lie down on a blue cabbage.
Tomaž Šalamun, Death’s Window, from Child of Europe: A New Anthology of East European Poetry, ed. Michael March
❤7
Mario Tursi
Pier Paolo Pasolini and Maria Callas on the set of "Medea”
Enrico Appetito Archive
1969
[x]
Pier Paolo Pasolini and Maria Callas on the set of "Medea”
Enrico Appetito Archive
1969
[x]
❤9
Not so long ago, I began exploring the work of Armenian filmmaker and theorist Artavazd Peleshian. So far I’ve watched several of his short films: “Վերջը / The End” (1992), “Կյանք / Life” (1993), “Բնիկներ / Inhabitants” (1970), “Մենք / We” (1969).
Each of these short films (essays?) possesses the same primordial, pre-verbal impressionistic quality, one that evokes a kind of raw intimacy, almost painful it its honesty and transparency.
“With a melodic rhythm of camera, editing and bittersweet classical music, Pelechian and Vartanov raise their film to the level of a true symphony – the symphony of our existence.” — IDFA
You can watch the films for free on YouTube:
[Life] [End] [Inhabitants] [Seasons of the Year] [We]
Each of these short films (essays?) possesses the same primordial, pre-verbal impressionistic quality, one that evokes a kind of raw intimacy, almost painful it its honesty and transparency.
“With a melodic rhythm of camera, editing and bittersweet classical music, Pelechian and Vartanov raise their film to the level of a true symphony – the symphony of our existence.” — IDFA
You can watch the films for free on YouTube:
[Life] [End] [Inhabitants] [Seasons of the Year] [We]
YouTube
Կյանք/ Жизнь/Life by Artavazd Pelechian
Poetic essay about the beginning of life from labor pains and birth and about its symbolic meaning.
❤4
”Reticulárea (literally, “reticule area”) is an idea; it is a metaphor and a microcosm for various natural and social universes; it is, as María Elena Ramos has written, both “geometry” and “the poetic disruption of that geometry”; it is and is not architecture, sculpture, a drawing without paper, a public space woven by Gego and privately, if only momentarily, un-woven and re-woven by the mind of the individual viewer”
Melina Kervandjian, Gego’s Reticulárea: Transcending Space and Time
Ph: Paolo Gasparini
Gego’s Reticulárea
Museo de Bellas Artes, Caracas
1969
[x]
Melina Kervandjian, Gego’s Reticulárea: Transcending Space and Time
Ph: Paolo Gasparini
Gego’s Reticulárea
Museo de Bellas Artes, Caracas
1969
[x]
❤3
❤5