16.5.11
9.5.11
5.5.11
show and tell. minus the show.
there's something about a man in a speedo that makes you question what it means to be a straight woman.
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30.4.11
26.4.11
SPECULATE/TITALLATE
a graphic i was working with at work,
guess the city without reference first.
i have my theory, but i'll wait for yallz.
19.4.11
cultural allusion is automatic
quotes: If you haven't noticed, I'm just a ball headed ho. -Amber Rose
You either whore yourself out to Hugh Heffner, or to Science. We're just not big enough whores yet. We need to start whoring it up. -Lasley & Truman
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12.4.11
counting the uncounted, y'all
one week till final review, and it's time to figure out how we got where we got, and where we need to go. the project explores the potentials of mapping an unampped demographic [the homeless] through the lens of GIS. in an attempt to pin down the patterns of a migratory population, we find the census's current procedures for counting transient populations produce numerous discrepancies/inaccuracies. this reveals gis's tendency to concretize the temporal. by working with TINS [relational data sets] and re-inputting new time sensitive data collected about the ameneties relevant to a certain population, GIS can be used to identify LATENT COMMUNITIES.
the drawing shows latent HOTSPOTS, or areas of the city particularly rich with amenities of use to the homeless. the green tin is derived from the amount of time soup kitchens open through the year relative to proximity of vacant parcels in the city. the chartreuse is based on bus route proximity to public parks.
the next step is to clarify what all this means for the way we think about the city in general, as well as what types of urban proposals we might suggest based on our findings.
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11.4.11
currently inspired by this group, REVITAL, totally in awe of their thought process/bravery/ease with which they make totally insane projected scenarios seem like truth.
the project above, life support, asks if humans can replace machines like ventilators in order to live symbiotically off of animals. they've got a lot of work and some good videos, you guys should check it out.
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Current Reading
Operation Get Your Shit Together Commencing Now
What I've learned so far: You Need to Be Present, Proportion Is Everything, Reinvention Is Key... Continue
WEATHER UPDATE: SPRING HITS CENTRAL NY
it's currently 72 degress in syracuse, ny. there are people in the streets, the porch is clean, and i've been dreaming lately of the couches/old wooden chairs i'm going to find on the street and lug up to my balcony. i even heard we might get a thunderstorm tonight! heat wave! now back to my 'seasonal depression has lifted' bean salad. Continue
8.4.11
make it a great wknd
to stimulate everyone's start of weekend, , , ,
the incomparable janet... ms. jackson if ya nasty. (from janet's design of a decade: 1986-1996. her best years.)
*video as inspiration/starting point for the collective's next photoshoot
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the incomparable janet... ms. jackson if ya nasty. (from janet's design of a decade: 1986-1996. her best years.)
*video as inspiration/starting point for the collective's next photoshoot
14.3.11
collective bloggin' through a ggl doc.date and time NOW.
click the link above to access the document at any time to see who has been chatting about what. you can use the boxes in the spreadsheet to have real-time conversations with whoever is online accessing the document. or, you can respond later to what has been stated previously.the idea is to create a spacial organization for the conversation. As of now, there are no set rules. As you have conversations, you can add new rules or modify existing ones. Just list these decisions within the matrix itself! Even if you have just a couple of minutes to try it out, go for it! It will help a lot with the project!
8.3.11
7.3.11
2.3.11
1.3.11
17.2.11
where's my purse?
it's time to pay a visit to LATENT CITY. it's the studio blog of the 3rd installment of the su soa's transdisciplinary media studio, a collaborative design studio that encourages the use of new techniques in digital media. this work is the result of the first workshop with mclain clutter, who developed these techniques along with mark linder in a past GIS workshop. what you see above is a TIN or TRIANGULAR INTERPOLATED NETWORK of data collected from census data in syracuse, ny.
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14.2.11
one soon feels oneself shut in by impermeable layers of silence
preferable watch with no sound. this was a installation in reaction to reading light in japanese architecture by henry plummer.
i loved this book, here is an excerpt directly related to the work.
'the succession of thresholds, & their rapid arrival
& departure, are given added emotional impact by the alternation colors, the lavish reds echoed by complementary greens, just as the rising up of spring is echoed by the pulsing blood in human beings. each gate is a blood red birth of what is to come and the blood red death of what has been, forming a long chain of sudden initiations and sudden endings, flickering hot & coldso that a walk uphill is a blur of lifetimes....
the whole of life is an endless flow of resurrections, ceaseless yet always changing like a river, its separate moments impermanent & wave like, a series of footsteps along the Way.
whiteness purify & bleaching the retina, cleaning the imagination. This prelude refreshes the eye & heart with a numbingly while extinction of color, yet just at this empty moment reconnects us to the sparkling sea far in the distance. Every pore of space is inhabited with colred mist overflowing like vessells that can hold no more.'
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12.2.11
another snippet of long poem...
XIV. Biking Barcelona
I borrow a bicycle from my landlord who lives
in the apartment above mine, a single mother
with a little girl who feels sorry for me in one breath
and envious in the other. She says I should bike
up to Mont Juic, see the stadium, she says, maybe Miro,
but instead I decide to bike further into the city,
planning a route up to Gracia to see a Chillida sculpture
in Creueta del Coll , an abandoned quarry turned park,
because today I feel like moving in, towards something,
and I am tired of swimming in my own black pools
of rock. At first I am clumsy on the bike, which is large
and orange, a beach cruiser you might see older couples
use, biking side by side to town from their summer
rentals on the coast of South Carolina, but the sidewalks
of Barcelona are not the wide effortless walks
of Sullivan’s Island or Folly Beach. They are thin,
packed with people walking briskly to work, to lunch,
to H&M to shop, infinite black and white bodies,
women in suits, students grungy and unbathed flying
down the uneven pavers on skateboards, and there is me,
an American woman feeling large and out of place,
weaving the deep streets, black creeks ruled with buildings
rising up like cypress trunks, on an orange bike like a horse
I cannot tame. What a long road this is. The wheels clop
against deep ruts in the blacktop, and I hold my breath
clenched in my jaw as I weave through people in my way.
The smell of urine passes up from the stone gutters,
and dark stains seep down the sides of buildings
like the roots of a tree spreading across the ground.
There is a break in the thick wall, a garden caged
in the alley, and when I look in, it is black and loud
with the chattering of cats, lapping up stale meat
on broken chairs and abandoned couches.
They are thin-bodied beasts, multiplying like the hidden
faces of children peeking around a corner, prisoners
stalking each other in the dark. I smell dead fruit and blocks
of lamb rotting in a trash pile outside of the market,
my neck is burning, wet, and I am sweating through
my thin button-up blouse as I pass the MACBA, white
against a black ground, a blue sky, whose front square
has become a haven for skaters, the homeless young,
and students sketching furiously, or studying on flat,
minimalist benches under the hot Mediterranean sun.
A young homeless man approaches me from behind
and taps me on the shoulder. I loose my balance,
the bike sways, my basket rattles, and the weight
of my bag falls to one side. I am gasping for air,
and he is laughing hysterically, the sound of a crying
bird, his dirty face distorted, wormy in the sun.
He is wearing a dark winter coat inside out
although it is summer, and this makes him look
like a large bull hovering in the square, blocking
my path. He is yelling something I can’t understand,
a loud caw, to his audience of half sleeping homeless
men and women, piled against the white tile finding
shade from its protruding end, and two of them
are making out, their thick hands around each other,
tongues moving in and out of mouths crusted over
from heat and drool. I am a bloated body on display
choking on my own fear like a toy knife, tears
in my throat, I pedal faster, hearing voices,
a bit of wind, and the echo of his laugh
behind me, rising up into the cloudless sky.
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6.2.11
3.2.11
I called on Jesus! I called on Jesus! Well, first, I called Charter, but then I Called Jesus! 02/03/11 9:38am, transgendered preacher to interviewer
vote here: http://challenges.core77.com/contests/powers-of-10/ideas/623 Continue
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