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Bill Bollinger
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Ellsworth Kelly, Rebound, 1959
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National Geographic, January 1981 | via ofnationalgeographic
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Karin Ruggaber
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Christian Maychack-compound flat
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Tomas Alonso
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Jessica Hans via Iko Iko - tumblr: Strangefires
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Chris Marker’s Split-Second Cameo in SANS SOLEIL
so far as elusive figures go, chris marker isn’t exactly j.d. salinger or anything, but the renowned visual artist is about as far removed from kevin smith as contemporary filmmakers get (er… “living filmmakers” might be the more accurate term). Marker typically represents himself with the image of a cat, and his actual appearances are rare enough for each to qualify as minor events — his brief cameo in Wim Wenders Tokyo-Ga is so jarring that it can unmoor viewers from the rest of the film.
today i re-watched Marker’s masterpiece Sans Soleil, in part because we’re discussing it on this week’s episode of Operation Kino (Cinema Blend’s podcast, on which i’m one of the co-hosts), and in part because it’s… you know… a day. if i had noticed Marker’s split-second cameo / self-portrait before, i hadn’t remembered. but there he is, just for a frame or two, his face in a camera on a monitor in a camera, on the streets of Tokyo. i considered getting off my ass and retrieving my Canon 7D for the screen grab, but i decided that my iPhone was somehow a more appropriate means of recording this image (i almost feel like this is a spoiler, but you can find it at the 56:06 mark).
Criterion’s Blu-ray of LA JETEE and SANS SOLEIL is in stores now.
fave auto-reblog
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Sand Creatures, 1970
Ray Metzker
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Exhausted, 2003
Joseph Szabo
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Matias Cuevas
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David Hockney, Savings and Loan Building, 1967
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Dieter Roth, Mittlerer Sonnenuntergang, 1968
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Justin Kelly
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McKeever Donovan
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A visual research about vegetables and their powerful color. Vegetables are dismantled and purified to their visual essence ‘RAW COLOR’.
Mark, I love em!!
So I finally got these laser paintings figured out, here are a few of them in the studio.
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Ettore Sottsass.
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Cy Twombly
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no bones about it!
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View with a Grain of Sand
We call it a grain of sand,
but it calls itself neither grain nor sand.
It does just fine, without a name,
whether general, particular,
permanent, passing,
incorrect, or apt.
Our glance, our touch means nothing to it.
It doesn’t feel itself seen and touched.
And that it fell on the windowsill
is only our experience, not its.
For it, it is not different from falling on anything else
with no assurance that it has finished falling
or that it is falling still.
The window has a wonderful view of a lake,
but the view doesn’t view itself.
It exists in this world
colorless, shapeless,
soundless, odorless, and painless.
The lake’s floor exists floorlessly,
and its shore exists shorelessly.
The water feels itself neither wet nor dry
and its waves to themselves are neither singular nor plural.
They splash deaf to their own noise
on pebbles neither large nor small.
And all this beheath a sky by nature skyless
in which the sun sets without setting at all
and hides without hiding behind an unminding cloud.
The wind ruffles it, its only reason being
that it blows.
A second passes.
A second second.
A third.
But they’re three seconds only for us.
Time has passed like courier with urgent news.
But that’s just our simile.
The character is inverted, his hasts is make believe,
his news inhuman.Wislawa Szymborska
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Niall Mcclelland, Trash - Zaps, 2012. Spraypaint and broken fluorescent bulbs on canvas, 72” x 48”
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Richard Tuttle, Renaissance Unframed, #6, 1994 - 1995
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