Jenny Holzer

WITH YOU INSIDE ME COMES THE KNOWLEDGE OF MY DEATH

Brian Dillon

Objects in This Mirror“Like Roland Barthes and Virginia Woolf, Brian Dillon pays lavish attention to curious byways that usually go without saying. In sentences at once playful and majestic, he plumbs the intellectual depths of his subjects, and reveals a perverse, nearly dandyish love for odd facts and iconoclastic vistas. There is more than a touch of W. G. Sebald—the Wordsworthian wanderer, the romantic itinerant—in Dillon’s melancholy yet mood-spiked attitude toward the material objects that greet his sober, ever-evaluating eye.  Reading Objects in This Mirror, we participate in Dillon’s restless perambulations, and we are delighted to be thus transported.”—Wayne Koestenbaum

Brian Dillon

Objects in This Mirror

“Like Roland Barthes and Virginia Woolf, Brian Dillon pays lavish attention to curious byways that usually go without saying. In sentences at once playful and majestic, he plumbs the intellectual depths of his subjects, and reveals a perverse, nearly dandyish love for odd facts and iconoclastic vistas. There is more than a touch of W. G. Sebald—the Wordsworthian wanderer, the romantic itinerant—in Dillon’s melancholy yet mood-spiked attitude toward the material objects that greet his sober, ever-evaluating eye.  Reading Objects in This Mirror, we participate in Dillon’s restless perambulations, and we are delighted to be thus transported.”
—Wayne Koestenbaum

Delete looks at the surprising phenomenon of perfect remembering in the digital age, and reveals why we must reintroduce our capacity to forget. Digital technology empowers us as never before, yet it has unforeseen consequences as well. 
In Delete, Viktor Mayer-Schönberger traces the important role that forgetting has played throughout human history, from the ability to make sound decisions unencumbered by the past to the possibility of second chances. The written word made it possible for humans to remember across generations and time, yet now digital technology and global networks are overriding our natural ability to forget—the past is ever present, ready to be called up at the click of a mouse. Mayer-Schönberger examines the technology that’s facilitating the end of forgetting—digitization, cheap storage and easy retrieval, global access, and increasingly powerful software—and describes the dangers of everlasting digital memory, whether it’s outdated information taken out of context or compromising photos the Web won’t let us forget. He explains why information privacy rights and other fixes can’t help us, and proposes an ingeniously simple solution—expiration dates on information—that may.

Delete is an eye-opening book that will help us remember how to forget in the digital age.
Why we must remember to delete – and forget – in the digital age

theguardian.com

Delete looks at the surprising phenomenon of perfect remembering in the digital age, and reveals why we must reintroduce our capacity to forget. Digital technology empowers us as never before, yet it has unforeseen consequences as well. 

In Delete, Viktor Mayer-Schönberger traces the important role that forgetting has played throughout human history, from the ability to make sound decisions unencumbered by the past to the possibility of second chances. The written word made it possible for humans to remember across generations and time, yet now digital technology and global networks are overriding our natural ability to forget—the past is ever present, ready to be called up at the click of a mouse. Mayer-Schönberger examines the technology that’s facilitating the end of forgetting—digitization, cheap storage and easy retrieval, global access, and increasingly powerful software—and describes the dangers of everlasting digital memory, whether it’s outdated information taken out of context or compromising photos the Web won’t let us forget. He explains why information privacy rights and other fixes can’t help us, and proposes an ingeniously simple solution—expiration dates on information—that may.

Delete is an eye-opening book that will help us remember how to forget in the digital age.

Why we must remember to delete – and forget – in the digital age

theguardian.com

stazia:

drbgood:
Sister Rosetta Tharpe in Manchester, 1964.

stazia:

drbgood:

Sister Rosetta Tharpe in Manchester, 1964.

joewebs:

*・゜゜・*:.NEW PROJECT FOR 2014。..。.:*・゜・*:.。. .
。.:*・゜゜・PHOTOGRAPH NOTHING!**・゜゜・*.:*・゜・*:.。.

is it spring yet? moved house again, again, and got a new job starting tomorrow. things

joewebs:

*・゜゜・*:.NEW PROJECT FOR 2014。..。.:*・゜・*:.。. .

。.:*・゜゜・PHOTOGRAPH NOTHING!**・゜゜・*.:*・゜・*:.。.

is it spring yet? moved house again, again, and got a new job starting tomorrow. things

I thought Vice had posted something remotely stimulating for a second until i realised it’s a ‘weekend throwback’. reposting it anyway 

MERSEY INFANTICIDE

INSIDE THE VIOLENT LIVES OF LIVERPOOL’S ELEVEN-YEAR-OLDS

By Andy Capper; Photos: Stuart Griffiths 

So Jesse released this zine out of Florida, it was a collaborative project that I completely fell off, I didn’t have time to really collaborate in a way I would wish to, nor could I even look at these photographs too long? Jesse had surprised me with my own archive & I was shocked how much some of them made me wince, I thought I loved this shit?

Jesse worked really hard on putting this together so I’m really happy it’s been well received. His work is incredibly personal, and in a lot of ways my photographs took to his narrative, no matter how far removed they were in practice or pretension. It was quite refreshing to look at them as though they belonged to someone else, regardless it weirded me out no end.

I’m stoked on it as a thing, on Jesse’s hard work, on someone caring enough about something to create a new out of it, about collaborations of a web dimension and just photography and writing in general. Thnx Jesse, thnx 2 everyone peeking it too. Purchase here and checkit here

A Haiku for the Honey Bee

Poems by Jesse Fienman, Photos by Joe Skilton

108 Portraits
Gus Van Sant
 

The film director’s debut collection of portrait-photographs. Every subject is photographed in exactly the same way: A frontal pose, taken at a medium-shot angle, with minimal lighting, thereby bringing out both the chiaroscuro effect of light and shadow and the expressiveness of his subjects’ faces and bodies.

Gus Van Sant began taking photographs for the auditions of “Drugstore Cowboy” and “My Own Private Idaho”. The casual picture-taking quickly developed into a full-fledged project, encompassing a Who’s Who of the 20th century and capturing the exuberance and hedonism of a decade.

First Listen: Ratking, ‘So It Goes’

So It Goes, might be the most “New York” hip-hop project released in years.
The album doesn’t longingly harken back to the sound of the city as it was. Instead it represents New York as it is. Yes, So It Goes does bear the musical DNA of its lauded ’90s and early 2000s predecessors. But it does little to imitate them. It’s not Dipset, Wu-Tang, G-Unit, Terror Squad or even Native Tongues rehash. This is the now New York seen through the eyes of vocalists and Manhattan natives Wiki (Upper West Side) and Hak (Harlem) as they come of age — their words set to the off-kilter and decidedly nonboom-bap soundscapes provided by Bushwick-by-way-of-Virginia producer Sporting Life.
With a sonic palette that draws from reggae, alt rock, drum and bass and jazz, Sport creates a semi-chaotic world of vocal samples sped up and chopped beyond recognition, robotic high hats and stray sounds. The result is organized noise just tame enough for Wiki and Hak to rap, scream, chant and sing their love/hate letter to NYC and its denizens.

First Listen: Ratking, ‘So It Goes’

So It Goes, might be the most “New York” hip-hop project released in years.

The album doesn’t longingly harken back to the sound of the city as it was. Instead it represents New York as it is. Yes, So It Goes does bear the musical DNA of its lauded ’90s and early 2000s predecessors. But it does little to imitate them. It’s not Dipset, Wu-Tang, G-Unit, Terror Squad or even Native Tongues rehash. This is the now New York seen through the eyes of vocalists and Manhattan natives Wiki (Upper West Side) and Hak (Harlem) as they come of age — their words set to the off-kilter and decidedly nonboom-bap soundscapes provided by Bushwick-by-way-of-Virginia producer Sporting Life.

With a sonic palette that draws from reggae, alt rock, drum and bass and jazz, Sport creates a semi-chaotic world of vocal samples sped up and chopped beyond recognition, robotic high hats and stray sounds. The result is organized noise just tame enough for Wiki and Hak to rap, scream, chant and sing their love/hate letter to NYC and its denizens.

Published in conjunction with the first solo museum exhibition of Croatian artist Sanja Iveković’s work in the United States, this volume presents an overview of her projects in video, performance, installation, and photo montage from the early 1970s to 2011, offering her unflinching view of gender roles, the official politics of power, and historical forgetting prompted by changes in ideology. 
Essays by curator Roxana Marcoci and literary critic Terry Eagleton offer a critical examination of the neo-avant-garde in the former Yugoslavia and provide a philosophical context for investigating urgent issues such as women’s rights, political activism, and collaborative strategies in art.

Published in conjunction with the first solo museum exhibition of Croatian artist Sanja Iveković’s work in the United States, this volume presents an overview of her projects in video, performance, installation, and photo montage from the early 1970s to 2011, offering her unflinching view of gender roles, the official politics of power, and historical forgetting prompted by changes in ideology.

Essays by curator Roxana Marcoci and literary critic Terry Eagleton offer a critical examination of the neo-avant-garde in the former Yugoslavia and provide a philosophical context for investigating urgent issues such as women’s rights, political activism, and collaborative strategies in art.

(Source: momastore.org)