He’s wearing a sort of Scottish caveman thing. She looks like the reclining silhouette on a truck mudflap — topless, of course. They seem to boink on the motorcycle as it rides, gently bouncing along. That’s when we see full-on shots of Kim’s rack wobbling back and forth, heaving, defying gravity like two great cannonballs. But her boobs are nippleless. It’s a new flowering of Meret Oppenheim — whose 1936 version of The New Uncanny, her fur-lined teacup, saucer, and spoon, is still striking. My mouth still tries to spit out hairballs whenever I look at this thing.
The worst thing that could happen to you after the end of your time would be to be embalmed and laid up in a pyramid. I’m repulsed when I think about the Egyptians taking each organ and embalming it separately in its own receptacle. I want my machinery to disappear. Still, I do really like the idea of people turning into sand or something, so the machinery keeps working after you die. I guess disappearing would be shirking work that your machinery still has left to do. Since I believe in work, I guess I shouldn’t think about disappearing when I die. And anyway, it would be very glamorous to be reincarnated as a big ring on Pauline de Rothschild’s finger. -andy w.
Right after the 1977 exhibition, Pierre Matisse offered to donate this work to the Museum of Modern Art, and it was even delivered to MoMA. There it sat, stored, until 1982, when Blanchette Rockefeller, the museum’s president and a huge donor and fund-raiser, saw it and demanded that MoMA refuse the gift. It went back to Matisse’s gallery, where it was sold (to Mike Nichols), then resold again and again, ending up with the Greek shipping tycoon Stavros Niarchos. He, according to Balthus’s biographer, kept it in “an elaborately paneled bedroom, furnished like rooms at Versailles … [next to] a king-size container of Preparation H.”
What is wrong with making such captivating images? First, their power—and tendency—to signify knowledge far exceeds the findings, which are so often speculative and unspectacular. The current passion for brain scans expresses an unrealistic positivism in regard to the explanatory power of empirical science and the ability of images to transparently communicate knowledge. Second, these images exploit conventional signifiers of knowledge—graphs, grids, blueprint-like 3-D structures—while employing sophisticated techniques of visual manipulation to make the images “easier” to read and more expressive. The images tend to connote “science,” and yet they dumb down what should be more overtly complex; they are methodologically incoherent.
The branch upon which the blossom hangs may be long or short, rough or smooth, strong or weak according to our expectations, but the redness of the blossom is irrevocable, and the word “red” tells us next to nothing about it. There are thousands of colors in the world and only a few hundred words to describe them, and these include similitudes like teal and peach and turquoise. So, the names we put on colors are hardly more than proper names, like Smith or Rodriguez, denoting vast, swarming, diverse families of living experience. Thus, when color signifies anything, it always signifies a respite from language and history—a position from which we may contemplate absence and death in the paradise of the moment—as we kids in Santa Monica contemplated the death of puppies in the embrace of cartoon rainbows. -DH
It is most definitely not about Twitter. Twitter is important because its the easiest, dumbest tool available to people but its still just the delivery mechanism. It’s about the fact that some random person out there on the Internet is building a record of understanding about Roombas that may well rival anything we will ever do ourselves. Beyond that, we are being forced to accept the fact that our collections are becoming “alive”. Or at least they are assuming the plausible illusion of being alive. We are having to deal with the fact that someone else might be breathing life in to our collections for us or, frankly, despite us. We are having to deal with the fact that it might not even be a person doing it. We are watching as the world around us creates communal proofs of our collections.