Archive for November, 2003

Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia

Wednesday, November 19th, 2003

Pyramids of salt reflect the pink hues of predawn light rising above Bolivia’s Salar de Uyuni. The salar, fifteen thousand square kilometers in size, is but a remnant of an ancient lake that filled the vast depression nestled between two branches of the Andean Range. The man-made pyramids are formed when local Bolivians rake the salt on the salar’s surface into piles.

Foto, s

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Tuesday, November 18th, 2003

Obscuring the line between daily life and artistic production, I create photographic sketches as a daily exercise: photographic paper is exposed to a range of everyday objects and rituals, recording passages of time rather than moments.

Daily experience provides the basis for a process of re-personalization: a transformation of the familiar qualities of mundane items and ideas.

Working solely with commercially available black-and-white photo paper, I investigate the sensibilities beyond the materials predetermined usage. (Like any other consumer good, photographic paper comes with instructions and implications.)

These images are fabricated without the use of a camera by either employing the technique of the photogram (bringing the object in physical contact with the paper when exposing it to light) or by subjecting the paper itself to a range of erosive treatments.

UNTITLED (FUSE) These images record a process rather than a moment: in a darkroom a fuse is placed on silver gelatin paper and lit, resulting in a record of the passage of time. The paper is then developed, fixed and rinsed, producing a permanent, one-of-a-kind work.

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Erase una vez una ciudad llamada e-Topia

Tuesday, November 18th, 2003

D

Los ‘gui

Tuesday, November 18th, 2003

A la espa

Elpais.es llega a los…

Tuesday, November 18th, 2003

El 18 de noviembre de 2002 marc

A

Tuesday, November 18th, 2003

PETROGRAD, 1919

And we forgot forever,

Confined in this savage capital,

The lakes, the plains, the cities

And the daybreaks of our great motherland.

Day and night, in a bloody circle,

A cruel languor overpowers us . . . .

No one wanted to help us

Because we stayed home,

Because, loving our city

And not winged liberty,

We kept for ourselves

Its courtyards, fire, and water.

A different time is approaching,

The wind of death is already chilling the heart,

But the blessed city of Peter

Will be our involuntary monument.

Esta vez no le

Miss Mundo Digital Reloaded

Monday, November 17th, 2003

Hace unos d

Julio Anguita sobre LA boda

Monday, November 17th, 2003

Sin embargo, cuando la
reflexi

Linuxeras del mundo, un

Monday, November 17th, 2003

Lugar de mulher

Innocence is no earthly weapon

Monday, November 17th, 2003

OVID IN THE THIRD REICH

Geoffrey Hill

non peccat, quaecumque potest peccasse negare,

solaque famosam culpa professa facit.

—(Amores, III, xiv)

I love my work and my children. God

Is distant, difficult. Things happen.

Too near the ancient troughs of blood

Innocence is no earthly weapon.

I have learned one thing: not to look down

So much on the damned. They, in their sphere,

Harmonize strangely with the divine

Love. I, in mine, celebrate the love-choir.