View allAll Photos Tagged Collaborative,
ink & brush & soft pastels on paper and floor // made by Steph, Dani, Jodie, Abbie, Viv, Sophie, Ami, Amanda, Uzair, Leni, Liz, Pryle & Michael 19th Sept 2013, Writtle // see www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uNMFqUziOU
This is a collaborative art collection where writers use my portraits to explore individual characters. As a long term project, I am hoping to publish a book containing the photographs and accompanying stories. Art, in both forms, has wonderfully varied interpretations and these are (hopefully) paired examples of how artists can work together to form more complex pieces.
As with my photographs, all stories published here are copyrighted.
Hope you enjoy and, as always, email me if you have questions, feedback, or wish to contribute.
Below is the first combined effort.
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Photography by, Cassandra M. Kammerer
Short story written by, S.J.L.
You will never learn my real name. Some of your predecessors have asked, one even pleaded, but boundaries exist and I am quite particular. You lost all freedom when you told me your name Douglas, even if the loss was not immediately perceptible, and only by extension of my own gracious nature are you able to make these self-indulgent inquiries now. Your struggling questions are amusing, but as fruitless as the group counseling sessions to overcome your substance addiction. My confidence in your ability to fail is complete, but I offer one last recommendation: accept the vast weakness within yourself before I finish my latte and our time is up. Already shaking with confusion? Lamentable, but thankfully this is not really about you.
Hollow. That is the description I first wrote on my notepad about you. I see your skepticism, but here is where I circled it. Right at the top, what does it read? Page One. It took less than one minute to fully diagnose you and I have, on several occasions, encapsulated you to my colleagues as such: hollow. We are professionals and the sharing of such information was done under strict ethical code, of course. They had similar men as patients, celebrities like yourself, and needed comparative data. It is what we do, you see, we aggregate data from the weak to bolster our understanding of how not to be. Then we publish articles and books, creating our canon of behavioral norms and expectations. I choose the word canon carefully, Douglas. Your mother, who was also a patient of mine before she took her own life, was deeply fixated on a canon of her own, the Catholic worldview of her youth: heaven and hell – or, perhaps more simplified, good and evil. It was the great pendulum swinging through the landscape of her mind. Have you ever glimpsed away from yourself to ponder what it might take for a Catholic to commit suicide? How fractured she needed to be?
Are you actually displaying emotions for her suddenly? Where were you when she took the hatchet to her arm? Incidentally, I have always respected her choice in tools. If the magazines are to be believed, you were in Monaco, halfway through a month-long binge. You denied the veracity of those photographs, even to me; but, looking at you now, I think you are ready to admit you left the country knowing she was crumbling before your eyes. You were too weak even to try.
As I was saying, my colleagues and I do not see the evil or good of men. We identify weakness and prescribe strength. People like your mother, taught to worship a collapsed god, cannot be helped because their foundation is based on the archaic treatises of goatherds. Centuries of reinterpretation cannot change the simple fact her savior committed suicide, paving the way for her own. Taught to emulate weakness, and unable to locate conviction, she crawls to me, expecting her terrors and self-hate to disappear – which is not how therapy works, as you now fully appreciate.
How long did you wait after learning of her death before seeking my guidance? Three weeks? I remember you wore a disguise when you came through my office door. Yes, of course it was a disguise. Even in your deepest alcoholic engorgement, you never allowed yourself to be unshaven, let alone wear an Orioles ball cap. Please don’t insult my intelligence by claiming it was grief. Your girlfriend, who you may not realize has been on my weekly itinerary for over a year, told me what you said enroute to the funeral. Do you remember? No? You said, “Mom was a deranged lunatic. I am leaving this sideshow early because La Traviata opens tonight.” And you did.
Why am I saying these things? This is our last session, Douglas, and soon you will have found the cure to your hate-filled anxieties and the logical conclusion to your addiction. No, this is not tough love, for at least two reasons: first, a doctor cannot love her patient and remain objective; second, as previously stated, you are merely the thin shell of a human being and unworthy of anyone’s love. Hollow, remember? I am not passing judgment; I am treating you for an illness, one you have carried since you were eight years old. We have discussed the incident several times, so it should come as no shock the genesis was with the wagon, your friend Christine, and those two boys. She begged for your help when they were chasing her, but the boys threatened to take your wagon. She had even kissed you at the roller rink three weeks prior and you had exchanged valentine’s cards. For such a young age, the two of you had shared much. But you did not get out of your wagon for Christine, and those two boys brutalized her. Her parents moved to Florida shortly thereafter and you never saw her after that day. Your mother told me once she prayed desperately for that girl to pull through her surgeries, but what help did you offer?
You understood the ramifications of sticks and stones, right? Did their yells of victory or her screams of pain hurt you? Did you cry for her or only for yourself? You did not become feeble that day, for all children are; rather, it was the day you learned about the connection between cowardice and survival. Your addiction is the outward manifestation of the fear and weakness permeating your mind – it is the gaseous cloud filling the empty space normal people lack.
No, I don’t mind if you have a drink. I anticipated you might and had my secretary ensure the mini-bar was properly stocked. We are celebrating, after all – me with my latte and you with your bourbon. There is no need to bark obscenities, Douglas. You cannot visit a surgeon and become agitated when her delicate scalpel technique causes tissue to swell. The pain is natural and expected and the disease you have coruscating through your system has had twenty-nine years to fester.
Yes, I am a surgeon. I carve apart the minds and experiences of my patients and remove desiccation when I am allowed. Therapy is artfully complex in this way – regulatory and behavioral obstacles at every turn. Your girlfriend, Evelyn, understands this, but your mother did not. She needed me to cut her, wept for me to do so, but never once gave me permission. You are miserably similar to her in this way, refusing to sign the necessary paperwork. I am, in a sense, your five hundred dollar an hour barfly; or was, since our relationship is now over.
Time, nipping at your ankles, has caught hold finally. You have run dry on individuals to blame and the fiasco of your life will be reprinted for the slathering masses to devour. I know it can be heartbreaking to learn the thoughts you labeled as hope in your mind are false; however, you simply must appreciate those thoughts were never true. You would never consent to hope, not Douglas Clarion. Yes, you may have another drink; in fact, consider all three of those bottles a gift.
Now why would you ask me such a question? Vain until your last breath, Douglas. I grasp why women adore you, but it would be inappropriate for me to officially comment on your attractiveness. No, you may not kiss me, but it was sweet of you to ask. It lets me know you recognize I am in control. Control is the bedrock of civilized life, be it social or technological. Let’s examine your own civility: even now, knowing you will die soon if you continue, you are unable to prevent your own hand from raising that glass to your mouth; your life is chronicled for you by a professional mob armed with telescoping lenses and legally sanctioned deceit; food, clothing, and transportation is handled by servants, much like a toddler; and Evelyn counts herself fortunate if you can manage an erection more than once a month. Has there ever been anything more pathetic than a sagging philanderer?
No need to scowl, Douglas – it makes you seem ill-tempered and foul. I am explaining something critical, if you would pay attention. For all your wealth and luxury, you are remarkably uncivilized. By extension, I cannot in good conscience grant you the rights and privileges I do normal human beings. It is one of the fundamental reasons you are no longer my patient – I am not a veterinarian, after all.
There are tissues on the end-table if you wish to dry up your face, but it is time to stand up from the couch. No, I do not find you contemptible because you are crying. Everyone cries, Douglas, even me. No, I will never cry over you because you are a disgrace, filled with purposeless and unguided shame.
Which brings our session to its inevitable close. My latte is finished and you have managed, amazingly, to consume the entire bottle of bourbon. Be sure to try my other gifts after you arrive home tonight. I pronounce you cured. Yes, just like that. Please, Douglas, do not ruin the moment with more obscenities. I want to remember you exactly as you are right now. My secretary will collect the final payment on your way out.
* * * *
Good Morning, Jenny. Who is my nine o’clock? Mrs. Garnier? Are her files on my desk already? Very well. No, I was running late today and did not read the newspaper, what happened? Mr. Clarion was found dead in his penthouse? Was it an overdose? My my, the paparazzi will have a field day with this tragic story. Call Evelyn Wilson and schedule her tomorrow morning and cancel Garnier and my other morning appointments. I am feeling exultant today, Jenny, and will be at Linney’s having a spa facial – care to join me? My treat… Excellent. I have wanted to pick your brain for ages and this is the perfect opportunity.
GBRf 'shed' 66 792 'Collaboration' brings up the rear of a UK Railtours charter from Nottingham to the Bluebell Railway. The train had electro-diesels 73 128 and 73 119 attached on the front at Acton Lane Reception Sidings, where they worked the train to East Grinstead and the heritage railway, which was hosting a beer festival.
guys, my zine, PRETTY PONY, with giovana medeiros and jana cecin it's finally out!
the whole zine is dedicated to childlike and cute illustration, photography and comics. in this first edition we invited friends that we admire a lot, and love their work.
you should follow us on our tumblr, and I would love to hear your opinions about the zine :)
also: with you want to contribute to next on-line edition just send us a hello!
This is a collaboration between some young morons and mother nature.
The young bastards provided the Spray Paint..............mother nature .............well she was responsible for the bloody spray paint too.............however her lawyers only claim credit for the "growths" that are attempting to cover this shit,,,,,,,,,,,
When my oldest daughter, Emma, was three I asked her to draw a house that we could build. Working in a synthesis of CAD, crayon, and magic marker (insert smiley face), this was Emma's first drawing of our house. I've been trying to make a house that looked like this ever since . . .
www.flickr.com/photos/benledbetter-architect/sets/7215759...
Number 33 for 116 Pictures in 2016 : Alien.
In spite of regular concerted attacks by an army of volunteers, this stand of Indian or Himalayan Balsam at Coy Pond continues to thrive and increase.
The only good thing about this alien invader is that it supplies a great food source for insects late into the Autumn, and in this photo you can one of the willing collaborators with the enemy.
Civilian participants and members of 2 Canadian Mechanized Brigade Group fire the 20 millimeter cannon of a Light Armored Vehicle III during Exercise COLLABORATIVE SPIRIT at Petawawa, Ontario on September 20, 2016.
Photo: Cpl Colin Barrie, Garrison Imaging Petawawa
PA05-2016-0226-029
24 people from 6 continents participated in a collective origami pixels mosaic that was exhibited at the French origamo convention in May 2017 in Blois, France.
Map of all participations: origamipixels.com/collaborative-origami-mosaic-may-2017-p...
Details about the project: origamipixels.com/participate-in-the-first-collective-ori...
While teaching at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT), Oxman collaborated with the Mediated Matter Group to explore fabrication systems that straddle art, architecture and design. Aguahoja models Oxman’s vision of generative, materials-based architectural design. A multipartite, cutting-edge project, it was inspired by biology: states, behaviors, materials and processes fundamental to living organisms. Each element’s structure was created using an automated , water-based fabrication platform that builds planes out of natural substances. The leaflike forms evolve organically and unpredictably over time.
Rob's Dolls and many other artists had a party on Tuesday to sell their proucts. To many fun things to see and buy ;-)
Collaborative collage with Hannah Marine, based on writing by Billie Irwin.
ig:
@h8fruit
@hannah_marine
@derelict_tesco
CFB Petawawa - October 4th to 6th, 2011
Soldiers from 2 Canadian Mechanized Brigade Group host Exercise COLLABORATIVE SPIRIT at CFB Petawawa from October 4th to 6th, 2011. Exercise COLLABORATIVE SPIRIT is designed to familiarize members of the Public Service and Canadian industry with the capabilities of the Canadian Army.
Canadian Forces Image Number PA2011-0164-021
By Cpl Stuart MacNeil, 2 CMBG
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BFC Petawawa - le 4 au 6 octobre 2011
Des soldats du 2e Groupe brigade mécanisé du Canada ont tenu l’exercice Collaborative Spirit à la BFC Petawawa, du 4 au 6 octobre 2011. L’exercice Collaborative Spirit vise à familiariser les membres de la fonction publique et du secteur privé canadien avec les capacités de l’Armée canadienne.
Image des Forces canadiennes numéro PA2011-0164-021
Par le Cpl Stuart MacNeil, 2 GBMC
-My build for Brickscalibur's collaborative category "Elemental Emergency", I did with Arbrickio.
The Keepers of the Portal each take their job very seriously for each side of the portal is constantly trying to overrun the realm of the other side.
My build depicts the Life Realm side of the portal, who's keeper is the friendly Nature Mage.
Here's Abrickio's awesome build, the other side of the portal:)
www.flickr.com/photos/199087695@N04/54269130403/in/datepo...
Rob's Dolls and many other artists had a party on Tuesday to sell their proucts. To many fun things to see and buy ;-)
The once empty collaborate canvas at the Pure Vision office finally gets arted upon. I hope you all caught the BSG reference.
For the week of Sunday October 2, 2011.
i made these for my friend jiha's upcoming show at saltworks in atlanta. she's going to use them and draw on top from now until her show.
flickriver.com/photos/javier1949/popular-interesting/
BoaMistura Boa Mistura ROCKING SINCE 2001
CINCO CABEZAS, DIEZ MANOS, UN SOLO CORAZÓN
Colectivo de artistas urbanos nacido a finales de 2001 en Madrid, España. El término “Boa Mistura”, del portugués “buena mezcla”, hace referencia a la diversidad de formaciones y puntos de vista de sus miembros. Visiones distintas que se influencian y se mezclan en favor de un resultado único. Formado por el Arquitecto Javier Serrano “Pahg”, el Ingeniero de Caminos Rubén Martín “rDick”, el Publicista Pablo Purón “Purone” y los Licenciados en Bellas Artes Pablo Ferreiro “Arkoh” y Juan Jaume “Derko”. Su obra se desarrolla principalmente en el espacio público, habiendo llevado a cabo proyectos en Sudáfrica, Noruega, Berlín o Sao Paulo. Boa Mistura ha participado en exposiciones en centros de arte como el Museo Reina Sofía, Casa Encendida o Museo DA2. Colaborado en proyectos sociales junto a fundación ONCE, Intermon Oxfam, Cruz Roja o Antonio Gala e impartido conferencias en Universidades como las de Madrid, Sevilla, Cuenca o Alcalá de Henares. // Boa Mistura is an urban art group formed at the end of 2001 in Madrid, Spain. The term "Boa Mistura", from the portuguese for "good mixture", refers to the diversity of perspectives of each member. Distinct visions which complement each other, and combine to create something unique and coherent. The collective is composed by the Architect Javier Serrano "Pahg", the Civil Engineer Rubén Martín "rDick", Pablo Purón "Purone", graduated in Advertising and Public Relations, and two Fine Art graduated: Pablo Ferreiro "Arkoh" and Juan Jaume "Derko". The group works mainly on the public space, and have developed projects in South Africa, Norway, Berlin, Sao Paulo or Río de Janeiro. Boa Mistura have taken part in exhibitions in art galleries such as the "Museo Reina Sofía", "Casa Encendida" and the "Museo DA2". They have collaborated with foundations like ONCE, Red Cross, Oxfam and Antonio Gala, and given lectures at universities such as Madrid, Seville, Cuenca or Alcalá de Henares.
EFIMERAS ETSAM 2014
Instalaciones Deportivas de la Ciudad Universitaria de Madrid, Avda de Juan de Herrera Madrid.
Entre el 3 y el 14 de Marzo de 2014 Boamistura imparte un curso en el título de Postgrado de Arquitecturas Efímeras, en la Escuela Técnica Superior de Arquitectura de Madrid, en el que introducen a los alumnos en dinámicas de trabajo en equipo y trabajo en el espacio público.
Between 3 and March 14, 2014 Boamistura teaches a course in a workshop on the "Arquitecturas Efímeras" Postgraduate degree, at the "Escuela Técnica Superior de Arquitectura" of Madrid, which introduce students in dynamic teamwork and work in the public space.
www.boamistura.com/projects.html
www.boamistura.com/BoaMistura_portfolio.pdf
www.colegio-abaco.com/imagenes/archivos/proyecto-boamistu...
www.colegio-abaco.com/imagenes/archivos/portfolio-boamist...