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Step into the mesmerizing world of teamLab’s Life Survives by the Power of Life II (2020), a digital masterpiece blending calligraphy, nature, and life’s profound unity. This 60-minute looping installation challenges the boundaries between art and audience, immersing viewers in a seamless interplay of physical and artistic spaces. The artwork reimagines the kanji character for “life” (生, sei) through Spatial Calligraphy, a technique pioneered by teamLab that explores the depth, power, and fluidity of brushstrokes in a three-dimensional realm.
This creation transcends traditional two-dimensional art forms, utilizing teamLab’s Ultrasubjective Space concept to dissolve the perceived boundary between viewer and artwork. Unlike conventional framed pieces, where the surface separates observer and art, Life Survives by the Power of Life II extends into the audience’s environment, fostering an intimate and unified experience. The result is an artwork that blurs the lines between nature, civilization, and the individual.
Drawing inspiration from the continuity of life’s blessings and challenges, the piece asserts a timeless truth: existence is interconnected. Vibrant digital renderings of natural motifs and bold calligraphy merge to symbolize resilience and beauty amidst life’s dualities. Witnessing this work is not merely observing—it’s becoming a part of its living, breathing essence. Perfect for those seeking to engage deeply with art that defies conventions, Life Survives by the Power of Life II is a profound reminder of life’s interconnectedness and beauty.
The soft hum of Jefferson Airplane’s melodic, acoustic instrumental song, Embryonic Journey, surfs on the spaces of air reserved for sound in my room. I have always figured Grace Slick’s tremendous voice to be capable of providing a gentle anthem for my ruminations and reflections. Some of my finest musings came from a comparable scene: a dark and open room filled with flickering light and jumping shadows which have been discarded by the atomic tangerine flames wavering in the fireplace beside me. The flames pop and jump, dancing to songs like Today or Comin’ Back to Me. Sometimes I wonder if the fire is listening to the words of the songs, the romantic strums of the guitar, or the beating drum. The fire is very much alive, as are the eroding mountains, the bleeding sandstone walls, the gliding and wild running rivers, the unbreakable rocks sleeping on the valley floors and the accumulating snow in the higher elevations.
The desert air is daubed with a frigid shade of winter tonight. Maybe my memory has been selectively blurred by four years of patient study through countless textbooks, for I recall much warmer winter air blanketing the southwest landscape this time of year. Nevertheless, wintertime has arrived with a rush of brittle air and frosty temperatures across the American desert lands. Paralleling the winter season is the holiday season. From Hanukah to Christmas, Kwanza, Boxing Day, and even the Earth’s Winter Solstice, the shifting weather always seems to be enough reason to bring families together for large meals, gifts, and holiday cheer. We have a small and very untraditional family. At the end of the day it is just Greg, me, and little Miss Charlotte. Our extended families are spread from Oregon to Wisconsin, Texas, and even back East in Massachusetts. We typically spend the holiday season on the road, in the wild, with cameras, tents, and sleeping bags, but this year the weather required warmer lodging. The world is so much more discreet in the winter. The parks are not full; the roads in the higher elevations, those that are away from ski resorts and public commons, are typically empty. It is much more possible to be alone in a winter landscape in the Southwest than any other time of year. Our small trio requires silence and solitude—the nutrients of our souls. Fittingly so, this holiday season we escaped the city in search of that peaceful silence that our spirits were craving.
We had no set destination. No determined or mapped out places. We spent a day cooking and dehydrating foods for the journey, packing winter clothing snow boots, camera gear and writing equipment. We looked at weather maps and forecasts without a decision of where to go. The following morning, on Christmas Eve, I folded a bronzed cashmere blanket around the floor of our miniature schnauzer’s dog kennel, grabbed her leash, and fastened her collar. Hester is a salt and pepper colored schnauzer. She’s a little over a year old and a terrifically happy puppy that loves to hike, travel, and run up and down sandstone canyons and mountain trails. She quickly made her way into the grey box where she travels. Greg positioned her in the backseat of the car, next to Charlotte. He secured the door and we sat in our own chairs, buckled seat belts, and then backed the car out of the garage. As we sat parked in the driveway, watching the garage door slowly seal the open air away from our home, Greg looked to me and asked, “Where are we heading?” I sat for a moment, thinking of the weather, our two young companions, and the time we had set aside for the trip and replied, “Utah. Let’s go to Utah”. Greg flashed his charming smile and backed out of the driveway. And as simple as that we were on our way.
The highway led us through a maze of holiday shoppers and travelers. Las Vegas was bleeding with anxieties. Drivers flushed their rage by honking and screaming at one another, a far cry from the holiday cheer everyone talks about this time of year. On any average day there are about a hundred thousand or more tourists in the city. Yearly, about forty million visitors come to see the glitter in the Mojave. The holiday season sees a rush of travelers that pile in to this desert valley in such large amounts that on New Year’s Eve the strip is closed off to allow only foot traffic. Las Vegas is the glittering land of consumerism. Everything in this city is designed for the purchaser: the lavish restaurants and casinos, the shimmering lights of the strip that sing a song to visitors, asking them for coins and dollars or swipes of whatever type of plastic they have tucked away in their wallets. “Buy. Buy. Buy.” it sings. More money flows in this city during the course of half an hour than most people make in a year. You can find almost anything you could ever need or desire in this intensifying metropolis. Even dreams. Dreams are for sale in Las Vegas. With a simple bet and the ensuing pull of a lever it is possible, or so we are taught to think, to win a better life. That better life opens the door to more money which equates to more consumption and thus higher rates of environmental degradation.
In an over-consumption culture, we seem to always overlook the connection of how our purchasing behavior and choices impact the world around us. According to National Geographic writer Hillary Mayell, “Approximately 1.7 billion people worldwide now belong to the “consumer class” –the group of people characterized by diets of highly processed food, desire for bigger houses, more and bigger cars, higher levels of debt, and lifestyles devoted to the accumulation of non-essential goods” (Mayell). As hard as it may be while living in an unsustainable city like Las Vegas, Greg and I strive to have sustainable living practices as much as possible. Fittingly so, this is one reason we rarely participate in the consumerism that gridlocks shopping malls and stores this time of year. Instead of spending hours in checkout lines, we find ourselves desperately seeking an escape from the reminder of how materialistic, acquisitive, and unsustainable our species continues to become. As shoppers raced to malls in search of last minute gifts, we were quickly racing out of the valley, leaving behind Las Vegas and the hectic urgency of Sin City.
We drove over four hours, breaking away from society like prisoners absconding. We entered Utah and began our climb into the higher elevations. The temperature gauge on the dash slowly dipped below freezing as we ascended into the mountains. Rural Utah existed outside of my car window, flashing by with each stretch of mile, showcasing quaint and warm homes with smoke billowing out of the chimneys. Small stores were dark and flashed the word “CLOSED” in bright red lights, reminding travelers that consumerism was not as important as quiet time with family. There are still stores that close on Christmas Eve. Yes, they do exist. These places rightfully relieve employees of their occupational duties, encouraging them to embrace loved ones without interruption. They forego the monetary gains of staying open—gains achieved to promote over-consumption and quench the thirst of the hungry shopper.
Greg and I discussed the relationship between story and sense of place as we drove through the countryside. Words are some of the most powerful tools we have in our human arsenal. More authoritative than any weapon ever created, words have the unique and contrasting ability to create peace and war. You see, we can sew them together to form the quilted patterns of oral and written narratives. They can facilitate others to understand the senses of place that are described in stories. Oral narratives existed long before written history tracked the patriarchal dominance of man over nature. Words have always been used by humans to communicate significant events, relationships between humans, and the significance of understanding the interconnectedness of all life forms. Ralph Waldo Emerson understood the significance of reflection and words. He said, “A man's power to connect his thought with its proper symbol, and so to utter it, depends on the simplicity of his character, that is, upon his love of truth, and his desire to communicate it without loss.” Thus we use our words to communicate the veracity of the natural world and in our photographic quest Greg and I seek to pair this truth with visual evidence to underline the significance of conservation, sustainability, and systems thinking. Storytelling is a gentle art that enlivens the land and forces each of us to acknowledge our roles in helping sustain it.
The fire sitting next to me as I sit here this evening, writing this text, is just as alive as I am. It breathes and moves, dancing in the dark shadows of the evening. Its life is commanded by the availability of oxygen much like my own. Without oxygen we both die. It sustains us. Though we take different forms, me in my human body and fire in its ethereal and fluid figure, we are the same; two dependent life forms existing because of something else. My ancestors in the Muscogee Creek tribe explained the significance of fire through story. Their tale describes how the tribe enlisted the help of brave Rabbit to bring fire to their people.
Fire was sent by Thunderbirds, through lightning, to a tree, on an island, filled with Weasels. The Weasels were stingy with the fire and refused to give it to any other animal. Their island was surrounded by water too deep for people to cross. The humans sat on their land watching the smoke rise from the Sycamore tree which caught the first sparks from the lightning. It was wintertime and the tribe suffered greatly from the cold. They spoke to the other animals around them, asking for support and aid in their quest to obtain fire from the Weasels. Knowing the violent nature of the Weasel, only one animal rose to the occasion. Rabbit was brave. He could swim and run faster than the Weasels and he recognized how his skills in dancing would be able to allow him to join the weasels in their nightly ritual of fire and dance. He covered himself in the sticky material produced by pine wood and quickly swam to the Weasel’s island. The Weasels welcomed the Rabbit and his beautiful gift of dance by dancing around a huge fire. As they danced around the fire, the Weasel’s would approach the fire, bow, and then back away from it. The eager Weasel’s beckoned the Rabbit to lead them in the dance and he followed suit, leading the ritualized movement, coming closer to the fire. Rabbit bowed low as he got close to the fire and suddenly the pine tar on his hair exploded in flames. He escaped with the fire clinging to his head. The Weasel’s realized that they had been tricked and angrily chased after him but the Rabbit was too quick. He outran them and then jumped in the water, swimming his way to the people with his head on fire. Furiously the Weasels summoned the Thunderbirds to bring rain so the fire stole fire would be killed. The Thunderbirds answered the call and spread rain upon the Earth for three days. Rabbit protected the fire from the rain by building a fire in the embrace of an old hollow tree. After the rain ceased he brought the fire to the people. From then forward the Creeks housed fire in their homes when it rained. They protected the fire’s life much like the fire guarded them from the cold.
Stories can show us the significance of life and the importance of understanding how things like fire and mountains, valleys, and rivers sustain us and the responsibilities we have to protect them from harm. We are interconnected with everything around us. The landscapes that flashed by my window as we drove that cold night, the rivers we crossed, the snowflakes that began to fall silently against the lonely road before us. Everything is connected you see. Our journey into the cold winter countryside of southern Utah was intent on reminding us of that connection. I told the story of the Rabbit and Fire to Charlotte during our drive. She likes stories and always fills journals with many of her own creations. Storytelling has been a part of our family since long before she or I were ever born and it is something we attempt to continue in our own way.
As we turned down the road to Bryce Canyon National Park, the sun was coming to a rest on the Western horizon. We pulled into Ruby’s Inn, a nice old lodge located outside Bryce Canyon National Park and look around at the empty surrounding area. Stores and most of the hotels in the area were closed for the season. The quiet of the park was appreciated and paired well with the cold airs of winter that chilled the upper elevations. The first few flakes of a winter storm began falling as we unloaded our photography gear, food, and clothing from our vehicle into our room. The familiar, “I’m hungry”, cry from my nine year old daughter came soon after we shut the door of our rented abode. My stomach agreed with her plea and I went to the ice chest to prepare our Christmas Eve dinner.
We do not eat processed or junk/fast foods. Restaurant eating is met with hesitation these days since we have cleansed our diets to more sustainable practices. We travel with our own homemade yummies for each meal and snacks in between. This allows us to have control over what we’re putting into our bodies, it helps us save money, and it ensures that we’re getting the right nutrients we need. Road food is rarely a good idea for our crew. Instead, bringing our own food allows us to control our environmental impact. We refuse to contribute to the growing mass of landfill waste created by fast-food consumers.
Greg and I had made a vegetarian farrow and bean winter stew the day before our trip. It was a robust stew filled with a homemade herbed broth, the stewed tomatoes we had frozen from our fall harvest, heirloom carrots, and a medley of organic veggies including new potatoes, celery, onions, cabbage and dinosaur kale. We heated the soup on our Coleman stove, scooped a ladle full into individual bowls and then garnished them with freshly grated parmesan and a splash of olive oil. I heated a few southern buttermilk biscuits and handed one to Greg, tearing apart another to split between Charlotte and myself. We sat under a dim light in the motel room, enjoying the hearty stew and biscuits, celebrating our love and togetherness that Christmas Eve. It was quiet and peaceful—exactly what we wanted when we left the city. Later that evening, we enjoyed a chocolate bottom oatmeal pie for desert and drank some hot tea before bed.
The morning came quick and our alarm clock sung us awake at 6:00am. We dressed in layers. I had three pairs of pants on, three shirts and two jackets. Living in the Midwest on the shores of Lake Michigan had prepared me for the coldness of winter in any situation. Cold climate living provides residents with a knowledge that can only be gained from suffering through biting wind chills due to lack of preparation and proper dress. You only do that once in the Midwest and then forever afterward you arrive to cold situations over-dressed and over-prepared, realizing that it’s easier to lose a layer or two rather than being on the other end of the spectrum and needing another layer or two. Even with the layered clothing and preparation for the cold temperatures, sitting at 9,100 feet in the mountains, Bryce Canyon National Park becomes a frigid ice box once the mountain winds start howling. As we arrived at twilight to our first shooting spot for the morning, Hester and Charlotte cuddled between blankets in the back of the car. Charlotte sipped her breakfast tea and munched on some sheep milk yogurt, dehydrated berries and homemade nonfat granola. Greg and I surveyed our surroundings, looking for compositions and safe areas to set up our tripods. A tapestry of snow had fallen during our nighttime sleep, accumulating from 4-10 inches in different areas of the park. Being the first people in the canyon provided us with a carpet of untouched, shimmering, new snow. The winds were relentless, stinging the naked skin on my cheeks and nose and burning through the flesh on my lips. I wore my sunglasses to protect my eyes from the bitter gusts. Frost bite was a real concern that morning considering the strength and persistence of the cold winds. The wind chill wavered from 0 – 6 F and I pulled my outer winter jacket around my face attempting to protect it from the cold. Hours later my cheeks and nose would burn red with the kiss of winter and wind.
We stood outside in the soundless park, facing the blustering cold as the sun began to wake for the day. The snowy cloudbank muted the light from the sun’s rising, creating a subtle yellow orb in the sky with no streaking lights to fill the pillars in the canyon. A flat winter light imperceptibly illuminated the ground before us but it did not cause the snow to shimmer or the salmon colored rock to glow. The light wasn’t right. The temperatures stayed well below freezing even as the sun began to rise in the sky. This is always a risk that photographers take as they face extreme temperatures in search of the light. Light is never certain and predicting how the weather will be comes down to good fortune more times than not. It was Christmas Day and we were treated with a white Christmas in the canyon that morning. We went out again in the early afternoon in hopes of catching some rays of light in the canyon. The soft, white palette of snow contrasted the red hues of Bryce Canyon’s towering columns of limestone. Each season has its principal color and each color sings a different story. Spring is decorated with a rainbow of flowers but overwhelmingly the Earth bleeds with green hues. Summertime is filled with straw colored grasses, overheated trees, and the golden rays of a hot desert sun. Fall is awakened by the reds of ivies and the soft amber saturation of falling leaves in front of a stormy sky. But winter holds the purest color in its white precipitation. As I stood and looked at the formations in the canyon I thought about the meaning of their color, the language that is used to describe them, and the stories that have encapsulated their essence.
I was reminded of a story the Paiute tribe told about Bryce Canyon and how it came to be. In 1936, a Paiute Elder named Indian Dick narrated the legend of canyon:
"Before there were any Indians, the Legend People, To-when-an-ung-wa, lived in that place. There were many of them. They were of many kinds – birds, animals, lizards and such things, but they looked like people. They were not people. They had power to make themselves look that way. For some reason the Legend People in that place were bad; they did something that was not good, perhaps a fight, perhaps some stole something….the tale is not clear at this point. Because they were bad, Coyote turned them all into rocks. You can see them in that place now all turned into rocks; some standing in rows, some sitting down, some holding onto others. You can see their faces, with paint on them just as they were before they became rocks. The name of that place is Angka-ku-wass-a-wits (red painted faces). This is the story the people tell." (USNPS)
Charlotte stood beside me, munching on a homemade granola bar as I repeated the words of the story. We looked at the red hoodoos and imagined the legend coming to life. The Coyote, standing on the overlook at Sunrise Point, as a powerful trickster he turns the To-when-an-ung-wa people into stone for their bad deeds. According to Kevin Poe, Chief of Interpretation at the park, the To-when-an-ung-wa peoples “were notorious for living too heavily upon the land” (Robert & Poe). This is why they were punished. Their unsustainable behaviors and lack of appreciation for the interconnected and systemic nature of the natural world caused their demise. Poe states, “They would drink up all these streams and the rivers in the springtime so there would be no water left for all the other creatures come summer” (NPR). And in the fall Poe describes how they would eat all of the pine nuts, leaving none for the survival of other animals during the frigid winter. The shameless overconsumption of the resource forced the rest of the animals in the area to bring the injustices to the attention of Coyote. Tricking the To-when-an-ung-wa people, Coyote invited them to a lavish banquet to feast for an entire day. They accepted his invitation and arrived adorned in war paint and fantastically colored clothing. As they sat at Coyote’s table, Poe says the Coyote cast a spell that turned them to stone. “The To-when-an-ung-wa tried to flee up over the top of the canyon rim, and in so doing –almost like a scene from the “Titanic” - you see them trampling on top of each other, writhing bodies trying to escape over the edge of the canyon, and clustered right on the brink” (Robert & Poe). In this version of the story, it was the unsustainable practices of the To-when-an-ung-wa peoples that instigated their rocky fate.
At first glimpse these stories seem to provide a simple moral on the importance of sustainability practices and good behavior. What fascinates me about these tales is that they move beyond simple moral narratives, reinforcing the significance of calling a place by its true name. The Paitue elder and Kevin Poe both referred to the structures of the canyon as people, naming them “To-when-an-ung-wa”. Saying that name in a whisper on the rim of the canyon, I was reminded of the significance this landscape held to the Paiute peoples. This canyon was not named Bryce. The tribe that lived in harmony with this landscape had called it “Anga-ku-wass-a-wits”, naming it aptly for the red painted faces of the unsustainable “To-when-an-ung-wa” peoples that now stand silently in the canyon. “Anga-ku-wass-a-wits” is an endonym, a name for a geographical feature or place that is used by the people who originate from the area. “Bryce Canyon” then is an exonym, or a name that is used by outsiders to reference a certain area. I strongly believe in calling a landscape by its real name by using the languages from first peoples and try to find the appropriate endonyms and stories about each location we visit.
My mother named me after the romantic Russian love story “Dr. Zhivago” written by Boris Pasternak. I have read the story countless times and even fallen in love with the film version. One of my favorite parts of the story is documented in the following quote. It has resonated with me for as long as I can remember and has helped inspire me to call each thing by its right name and to inspire my own child to bear witness to the remarkable beauties our world has to offer.
“Lara walked along the tracks following a path worn by pilgrims and then turned into the fields. Here she stopped and, closing her eyes, took a deep breath of the flower-scented air of the broad expanse around her. It was dearer to her than her kin, better than a lover, wiser than a book. For a moment she rediscovered the purpose of her life. She was here on earth to grasp the meaning of its wild enchantment and to call each thing by its right name, or, if this were not within her power, to give birth out of love for life to successors who would do it in her place.” ― Boris Pasternak
The visit to Anga-ku-wass-a-wits was the first part of our winter journey. We photographed in the cold of the canyon studying how snow storms moved across the landscape and how shadows and light danced together on the hundreds of hoodoo-people that stand as reminders of the importance of sustainability practices. The light never quite took off the way we had imagined it would, but at the end of the day, Greg and I both are satisfied with the images we made and the time we spent in the canyon, as a family, on Christmas day. It definitely was not a typical American holiday, but then again, we strive to be anything other than normal. We celebrated the holiday with living trees that were decorated in a delicate arrangement of snowflakes that had fallen during our visit. These trees were alive like you and I. They were alive like the flickering fire that sits beside me in my study this evening. This is the same fire that Rabbit stole from the Weasels and brought to my people to protect. We respected the trees and honored the canyon and the Paiute peoples who walked on the trails long ago. The gifts we gave to each other bore no resemblance to the material goods of common culture. We gave each other time, thoughtful discourse, and love. What more could anyone ask for from the people they love during the holidays? We gifted ourselves another experience in a lonely landscape and it was because of this remarkable present that we became closer to the lands of southern Utah and were better able to understand their unique stories and the disappearing languages that should been used to describe them. It is my hope that this tale of our winter journey serves a similar purpose to those who find themselves navigating through the words of my text. I hope that it inspires you to find a lonely landscape and to learn its history and stories. Speak the rightful names of the areas you visit and try to connect their history to your own experiences. In doing so, you will be more capable of translating the language of the land. This act of translation guides us on our own journey, chasing the light.
My teacup is empty and I am afraid morning again will come quickly. I am retiring for the evening, but do rest assure there will be more to come later…
References:
Drink Starbucks? Wake Up And Smell The Chemicals! (2014, September 2). Retrieved December 29, 2014, from foodbabe.com/2014/09/02/drink-starbucks-wake-up-and-smell...
Kaye, L. (2013, May 23). Starbucks Is in a Unique Position To Push Consumers To Waste Less. Will It? Retrieved December 29, 2014, from www.sustainablebrands.com/news_and_views/waste_not/starbu...
Mayell, Hillary. "As Consumerism Spreads, Earth Suffers, Study Says." National Geographic. National Geographic Society, 12 Jan. 2004. Web. 28 Dec. 2014.
Siegel, Robert, and Kevin Poe. "A Paiute Take On Bryce Canyon's Hoodoos." NPR. NPR, 1 July 2008. Web. 29 Dec. 2014. .
United States National Park Service. "American Indian History." National Parks Service. U.S. Department of the Interior, 28 Dec. 2014. Web. 29 Dec. 2014.
This image displays the magnitude of links from one porn site to others. The WOT porn crawler was created to find the relationships and interconnectedness between them all.
The soft hum of Jefferson Airplane’s melodic, acoustic instrumental song, Embryonic Journey, surfs on the spaces of air reserved for sound in my room. I have always figured Grace Slick’s tremendous voice to be capable of providing a gentle anthem for my ruminations and reflections. Some of my finest musings came from a comparable scene: a dark and open room filled with flickering light and jumping shadows which have been discarded by the atomic tangerine flames wavering in the fireplace beside me. The flames pop and jump, dancing to songs like Today or Comin’ Back to Me. Sometimes I wonder if the fire is listening to the words of the songs, the romantic strums of the guitar, or the beating drum. The fire is very much alive, as are the eroding mountains, the bleeding sandstone walls, the gliding and wild running rivers, the unbreakable rocks sleeping on the valley floors and the accumulating snow in the higher elevations.
The desert air is daubed with a frigid shade of winter tonight. Maybe my memory has been selectively blurred by four years of patient study through countless textbooks, for I recall much warmer winter air blanketing the southwest landscape this time of year. Nevertheless, wintertime has arrived with a rush of brittle air and frosty temperatures across the American desert lands. Paralleling the winter season is the holiday season. From Hanukah to Christmas, Kwanza, Boxing Day, and even the Earth’s Winter Solstice, the shifting weather always seems to be enough reason to bring families together for large meals, gifts, and holiday cheer. We have a small and very untraditional family. At the end of the day it is just Greg, me, and little Miss Charlotte. Our extended families are spread from Oregon to Wisconsin, Texas, and even back East in Massachusetts. We typically spend the holiday season on the road, in the wild, with cameras, tents, and sleeping bags, but this year the weather required warmer lodging. The world is so much more discreet in the winter. The parks are not full; the roads in the higher elevations, those that are away from ski resorts and public commons, are typically empty. It is much more possible to be alone in a winter landscape in the Southwest than any other time of year. Our small trio requires silence and solitude—the nutrients of our souls. Fittingly so, this holiday season we escaped the city in search of that peaceful silence that our spirits were craving.
We had no set destination. No determined or mapped out places. We spent a day cooking and dehydrating foods for the journey, packing winter clothing snow boots, camera gear and writing equipment. We looked at weather maps and forecasts without a decision of where to go. The following morning, on Christmas Eve, I folded a bronzed cashmere blanket around the floor of our miniature schnauzer’s dog kennel, grabbed her leash, and fastened her collar. Hester is a salt and pepper colored schnauzer. She’s a little over a year old and a terrifically happy puppy that loves to hike, travel, and run up and down sandstone canyons and mountain trails. She quickly made her way into the grey box where she travels. Greg positioned her in the backseat of the car, next to Charlotte. He secured the door and we sat in our own chairs, buckled seat belts, and then backed the car out of the garage. As we sat parked in the driveway, watching the garage door slowly seal the open air away from our home, Greg looked to me and asked, “Where are we heading?” I sat for a moment, thinking of the weather, our two young companions, and the time we had set aside for the trip and replied, “Utah. Let’s go to Utah”. Greg flashed his charming smile and backed out of the driveway. And as simple as that we were on our way.
The highway led us through a maze of holiday shoppers and travelers. Las Vegas was bleeding with anxieties. Drivers flushed their rage by honking and screaming at one another, a far cry from the holiday cheer everyone talks about this time of year. On any average day there are about a hundred thousand or more tourists in the city. Yearly, about forty million visitors come to see the glitter in the Mojave. The holiday season sees a rush of travelers that pile in to this desert valley in such large amounts that on New Year’s Eve the strip is closed off to allow only foot traffic. Las Vegas is the glittering land of consumerism. Everything in this city is designed for the purchaser: the lavish restaurants and casinos, the shimmering lights of the strip that sing a song to visitors, asking them for coins and dollars or swipes of whatever type of plastic they have tucked away in their wallets. “Buy. Buy. Buy.” it sings. More money flows in this city during the course of half an hour than most people make in a year. You can find almost anything you could ever need or desire in this intensifying metropolis. Even dreams. Dreams are for sale in Las Vegas. With a simple bet and the ensuing pull of a lever it is possible, or so we are taught to think, to win a better life. That better life opens the door to more money which equates to more consumption and thus higher rates of environmental degradation.
In an over-consumption culture, we seem to always overlook the connection of how our purchasing behavior and choices impact the world around us. According to National Geographic writer Hillary Mayell, “Approximately 1.7 billion people worldwide now belong to the “consumer class” –the group of people characterized by diets of highly processed food, desire for bigger houses, more and bigger cars, higher levels of debt, and lifestyles devoted to the accumulation of non-essential goods” (Mayell). As hard as it may be while living in an unsustainable city like Las Vegas, Greg and I strive to have sustainable living practices as much as possible. Fittingly so, this is one reason we rarely participate in the consumerism that gridlocks shopping malls and stores this time of year. Instead of spending hours in checkout lines, we find ourselves desperately seeking an escape from the reminder of how materialistic, acquisitive, and unsustainable our species continues to become. As shoppers raced to malls in search of last minute gifts, we were quickly racing out of the valley, leaving behind Las Vegas and the hectic urgency of Sin City.
We drove over four hours, breaking away from society like prisoners absconding. We entered Utah and began our climb into the higher elevations. The temperature gauge on the dash slowly dipped below freezing as we ascended into the mountains. Rural Utah existed outside of my car window, flashing by with each stretch of mile, showcasing quaint and warm homes with smoke billowing out of the chimneys. Small stores were dark and flashed the word “CLOSED” in bright red lights, reminding travelers that consumerism was not as important as quiet time with family. There are still stores that close on Christmas Eve. Yes, they do exist. These places rightfully relieve employees of their occupational duties, encouraging them to embrace loved ones without interruption. They forego the monetary gains of staying open—gains achieved to promote over-consumption and quench the thirst of the hungry shopper.
Greg and I discussed the relationship between story and sense of place as we drove through the countryside. Words are some of the most powerful tools we have in our human arsenal. More authoritative than any weapon ever created, words have the unique and contrasting ability to create peace and war. You see, we can sew them together to form the quilted patterns of oral and written narratives. They can facilitate others to understand the senses of place that are described in stories. Oral narratives existed long before written history tracked the patriarchal dominance of man over nature. Words have always been used by humans to communicate significant events, relationships between humans, and the significance of understanding the interconnectedness of all life forms. Ralph Waldo Emerson understood the significance of reflection and words. He said, “A man's power to connect his thought with its proper symbol, and so to utter it, depends on the simplicity of his character, that is, upon his love of truth, and his desire to communicate it without loss.” Thus we use our words to communicate the veracity of the natural world and in our photographic quest Greg and I seek to pair this truth with visual evidence to underline the significance of conservation, sustainability, and systems thinking. Storytelling is a gentle art that enlivens the land and forces each of us to acknowledge our roles in helping sustain it.
The fire sitting next to me as I sit here this evening, writing this text, is just as alive as I am. It breathes and moves, dancing in the dark shadows of the evening. Its life is commanded by the availability of oxygen much like my own. Without oxygen we both die. It sustains us. Though we take different forms, me in my human body and fire in its ethereal and fluid figure, we are the same; two dependent life forms existing because of something else. My ancestors in the Muscogee Creek tribe explained the significance of fire through story. Their tale describes how the tribe enlisted the help of brave Rabbit to bring fire to their people.
Fire was sent by Thunderbirds, through lightning, to a tree, on an island, filled with Weasels. The Weasels were stingy with the fire and refused to give it to any other animal. Their island was surrounded by water too deep for people to cross. The humans sat on their land watching the smoke rise from the Sycamore tree which caught the first sparks from the lightning. It was wintertime and the tribe suffered greatly from the cold. They spoke to the other animals around them, asking for support and aid in their quest to obtain fire from the Weasels. Knowing the violent nature of the Weasel, only one animal rose to the occasion. Rabbit was brave. He could swim and run faster than the Weasels and he recognized how his skills in dancing would be able to allow him to join the weasels in their nightly ritual of fire and dance. He covered himself in the sticky material produced by pine wood and quickly swam to the Weasel’s island. The Weasels welcomed the Rabbit and his beautiful gift of dance by dancing around a huge fire. As they danced around the fire, the Weasel’s would approach the fire, bow, and then back away from it. The eager Weasel’s beckoned the Rabbit to lead them in the dance and he followed suit, leading the ritualized movement, coming closer to the fire. Rabbit bowed low as he got close to the fire and suddenly the pine tar on his hair exploded in flames. He escaped with the fire clinging to his head. The Weasel’s realized that they had been tricked and angrily chased after him but the Rabbit was too quick. He outran them and then jumped in the water, swimming his way to the people with his head on fire. Furiously the Weasels summoned the Thunderbirds to bring rain so the fire stole fire would be killed. The Thunderbirds answered the call and spread rain upon the Earth for three days. Rabbit protected the fire from the rain by building a fire in the embrace of an old hollow tree. After the rain ceased he brought the fire to the people. From then forward the Creeks housed fire in their homes when it rained. They protected the fire’s life much like the fire guarded them from the cold.
Stories can show us the significance of life and the importance of understanding how things like fire and mountains, valleys, and rivers sustain us and the responsibilities we have to protect them from harm. We are interconnected with everything around us. The landscapes that flashed by my window as we drove that cold night, the rivers we crossed, the snowflakes that began to fall silently against the lonely road before us. Everything is connected you see. Our journey into the cold winter countryside of southern Utah was intent on reminding us of that connection. I told the story of the Rabbit and Fire to Charlotte during our drive. She likes stories and always fills journals with many of her own creations. Storytelling has been a part of our family since long before she or I were ever born and it is something we attempt to continue in our own way.
As we turned down the road to Bryce Canyon National Park, the sun was coming to a rest on the Western horizon. We pulled into Ruby’s Inn, a nice old lodge located outside Bryce Canyon National Park and look around at the empty surrounding area. Stores and most of the hotels in the area were closed for the season. The quiet of the park was appreciated and paired well with the cold airs of winter that chilled the upper elevations. The first few flakes of a winter storm began falling as we unloaded our photography gear, food, and clothing from our vehicle into our room. The familiar, “I’m hungry”, cry from my nine year old daughter came soon after we shut the door of our rented abode. My stomach agreed with her plea and I went to the ice chest to prepare our Christmas Eve dinner.
We do not eat processed or junk/fast foods. Restaurant eating is met with hesitation these days since we have cleansed our diets to more sustainable practices. We travel with our own homemade yummies for each meal and snacks in between. This allows us to have control over what we’re putting into our bodies, it helps us save money, and it ensures that we’re getting the right nutrients we need. Road food is rarely a good idea for our crew. Instead, bringing our own food allows us to control our environmental impact. We refuse to contribute to the growing mass of landfill waste created by fast-food consumers.
Greg and I had made a vegetarian farrow and bean winter stew the day before our trip. It was a robust stew filled with a homemade herbed broth, the stewed tomatoes we had frozen from our fall harvest, heirloom carrots, and a medley of organic veggies including new potatoes, celery, onions, cabbage and dinosaur kale. We heated the soup on our Coleman stove, scooped a ladle full into individual bowls and then garnished them with freshly grated parmesan and a splash of olive oil. I heated a few southern buttermilk biscuits and handed one to Greg, tearing apart another to split between Charlotte and myself. We sat under a dim light in the motel room, enjoying the hearty stew and biscuits, celebrating our love and togetherness that Christmas Eve. It was quiet and peaceful—exactly what we wanted when we left the city. Later that evening, we enjoyed a chocolate bottom oatmeal pie for desert and drank some hot tea before bed.
The morning came quick and our alarm clock sung us awake at 6:00am. We dressed in layers. I had three pairs of pants on, three shirts and two jackets. Living in the Midwest on the shores of Lake Michigan had prepared me for the coldness of winter in any situation. Cold climate living provides residents with a knowledge that can only be gained from suffering through biting wind chills due to lack of preparation and proper dress. You only do that once in the Midwest and then forever afterward you arrive to cold situations over-dressed and over-prepared, realizing that it’s easier to lose a layer or two rather than being on the other end of the spectrum and needing another layer or two. Even with the layered clothing and preparation for the cold temperatures, sitting at 9,100 feet in the mountains, Bryce Canyon National Park becomes a frigid ice box once the mountain winds start howling. As we arrived at twilight to our first shooting spot for the morning, Hester and Charlotte cuddled between blankets in the back of the car. Charlotte sipped her breakfast tea and munched on some sheep milk yogurt, dehydrated berries and homemade nonfat granola. Greg and I surveyed our surroundings, looking for compositions and safe areas to set up our tripods. A tapestry of snow had fallen during our nighttime sleep, accumulating from 4-10 inches in different areas of the park. Being the first people in the canyon provided us with a carpet of untouched, shimmering, new snow. The winds were relentless, stinging the naked skin on my cheeks and nose and burning through the flesh on my lips. I wore my sunglasses to protect my eyes from the bitter gusts. Frost bite was a real concern that morning considering the strength and persistence of the cold winds. The wind chill wavered from 0 – 6 F and I pulled my outer winter jacket around my face attempting to protect it from the cold. Hours later my cheeks and nose would burn red with the kiss of winter and wind.
We stood outside in the soundless park, facing the blustering cold as the sun began to wake for the day. The snowy cloudbank muted the light from the sun’s rising, creating a subtle yellow orb in the sky with no streaking lights to fill the pillars in the canyon. A flat winter light imperceptibly illuminated the ground before us but it did not cause the snow to shimmer or the salmon colored rock to glow. The light wasn’t right. The temperatures stayed well below freezing even as the sun began to rise in the sky. This is always a risk that photographers take as they face extreme temperatures in search of the light. Light is never certain and predicting how the weather will be comes down to good fortune more times than not. It was Christmas Day and we were treated with a white Christmas in the canyon that morning. We went out again in the early afternoon in hopes of catching some rays of light in the canyon. The soft, white palette of snow contrasted the red hues of Bryce Canyon’s towering columns of limestone. Each season has its principal color and each color sings a different story. Spring is decorated with a rainbow of flowers but overwhelmingly the Earth bleeds with green hues. Summertime is filled with straw colored grasses, overheated trees, and the golden rays of a hot desert sun. Fall is awakened by the reds of ivies and the soft amber saturation of falling leaves in front of a stormy sky. But winter holds the purest color in its white precipitation. As I stood and looked at the formations in the canyon I thought about the meaning of their color, the language that is used to describe them, and the stories that have encapsulated their essence.
I was reminded of a story the Paiute tribe told about Bryce Canyon and how it came to be. In 1936, a Paiute Elder named Indian Dick narrated the legend of canyon:
"Before there were any Indians, the Legend People, To-when-an-ung-wa, lived in that place. There were many of them. They were of many kinds – birds, animals, lizards and such things, but they looked like people. They were not people. They had power to make themselves look that way. For some reason the Legend People in that place were bad; they did something that was not good, perhaps a fight, perhaps some stole something….the tale is not clear at this point. Because they were bad, Coyote turned them all into rocks. You can see them in that place now all turned into rocks; some standing in rows, some sitting down, some holding onto others. You can see their faces, with paint on them just as they were before they became rocks. The name of that place is Angka-ku-wass-a-wits (red painted faces). This is the story the people tell." (USNPS)
Charlotte stood beside me, munching on a homemade granola bar as I repeated the words of the story. We looked at the red hoodoos and imagined the legend coming to life. The Coyote, standing on the overlook at Sunrise Point, as a powerful trickster he turns the To-when-an-ung-wa people into stone for their bad deeds. According to Kevin Poe, Chief of Interpretation at the park, the To-when-an-ung-wa peoples “were notorious for living too heavily upon the land” (Robert & Poe). This is why they were punished. Their unsustainable behaviors and lack of appreciation for the interconnected and systemic nature of the natural world caused their demise. Poe states, “They would drink up all these streams and the rivers in the springtime so there would be no water left for all the other creatures come summer” (NPR). And in the fall Poe describes how they would eat all of the pine nuts, leaving none for the survival of other animals during the frigid winter. The shameless overconsumption of the resource forced the rest of the animals in the area to bring the injustices to the attention of Coyote. Tricking the To-when-an-ung-wa people, Coyote invited them to a lavish banquet to feast for an entire day. They accepted his invitation and arrived adorned in war paint and fantastically colored clothing. As they sat at Coyote’s table, Poe says the Coyote cast a spell that turned them to stone. “The To-when-an-ung-wa tried to flee up over the top of the canyon rim, and in so doing –almost like a scene from the “Titanic” - you see them trampling on top of each other, writhing bodies trying to escape over the edge of the canyon, and clustered right on the brink” (Robert & Poe). In this version of the story, it was the unsustainable practices of the To-when-an-ung-wa peoples that instigated their rocky fate.
At first glimpse these stories seem to provide a simple moral on the importance of sustainability practices and good behavior. What fascinates me about these tales is that they move beyond simple moral narratives, reinforcing the significance of calling a place by its true name. The Paitue elder and Kevin Poe both referred to the structures of the canyon as people, naming them “To-when-an-ung-wa”. Saying that name in a whisper on the rim of the canyon, I was reminded of the significance this landscape held to the Paiute peoples. This canyon was not named Bryce. The tribe that lived in harmony with this landscape had called it “Anga-ku-wass-a-wits”, naming it aptly for the red painted faces of the unsustainable “To-when-an-ung-wa” peoples that now stand silently in the canyon. “Anga-ku-wass-a-wits” is an endonym, a name for a geographical feature or place that is used by the people who originate from the area. “Bryce Canyon” then is an exonym, or a name that is used by outsiders to reference a certain area. I strongly believe in calling a landscape by its real name by using the languages from first peoples and try to find the appropriate endonyms and stories about each location we visit.
My mother named me after the romantic Russian love story “Dr. Zhivago” written by Boris Pasternak. I have read the story countless times and even fallen in love with the film version. One of my favorite parts of the story is documented in the following quote. It has resonated with me for as long as I can remember and has helped inspire me to call each thing by its right name and to inspire my own child to bear witness to the remarkable beauties our world has to offer.
“Lara walked along the tracks following a path worn by pilgrims and then turned into the fields. Here she stopped and, closing her eyes, took a deep breath of the flower-scented air of the broad expanse around her. It was dearer to her than her kin, better than a lover, wiser than a book. For a moment she rediscovered the purpose of her life. She was here on earth to grasp the meaning of its wild enchantment and to call each thing by its right name, or, if this were not within her power, to give birth out of love for life to successors who would do it in her place.” ― Boris Pasternak
The visit to Anga-ku-wass-a-wits was the first part of our winter journey. We photographed in the cold of the canyon studying how snow storms moved across the landscape and how shadows and light danced together on the hundreds of hoodoo-people that stand as reminders of the importance of sustainability practices. The light never quite took off the way we had imagined it would, but at the end of the day, Greg and I both are satisfied with the images we made and the time we spent in the canyon, as a family, on Christmas day. It definitely was not a typical American holiday, but then again, we strive to be anything other than normal. We celebrated the holiday with living trees that were decorated in a delicate arrangement of snowflakes that had fallen during our visit. These trees were alive like you and I. They were alive like the flickering fire that sits beside me in my study this evening. This is the same fire that Rabbit stole from the Weasels and brought to my people to protect. We respected the trees and honored the canyon and the Paiute peoples who walked on the trails long ago. The gifts we gave to each other bore no resemblance to the material goods of common culture. We gave each other time, thoughtful discourse, and love. What more could anyone ask for from the people they love during the holidays? We gifted ourselves another experience in a lonely landscape and it was because of this remarkable present that we became closer to the lands of southern Utah and were better able to understand their unique stories and the disappearing languages that should been used to describe them. It is my hope that this tale of our winter journey serves a similar purpose to those who find themselves navigating through the words of my text. I hope that it inspires you to find a lonely landscape and to learn its history and stories. Speak the rightful names of the areas you visit and try to connect their history to your own experiences. In doing so, you will be more capable of translating the language of the land. This act of translation guides us on our own journey, chasing the light.
My teacup is empty and I am afraid morning again will come quickly. I am retiring for the evening, but do rest assure there will be more to come later…
References:
Drink Starbucks? Wake Up And Smell The Chemicals! (2014, September 2). Retrieved December 29, 2014, from foodbabe.com/2014/09/02/drink-starbucks-wake-up-and-smell...
Kaye, L. (2013, May 23). Starbucks Is in a Unique Position To Push Consumers To Waste Less. Will It? Retrieved December 29, 2014, from www.sustainablebrands.com/news_and_views/waste_not/starbu...
Mayell, Hillary. "As Consumerism Spreads, Earth Suffers, Study Says." National Geographic. National Geographic Society, 12 Jan. 2004. Web. 28 Dec. 2014.
Siegel, Robert, and Kevin Poe. "A Paiute Take On Bryce Canyon's Hoodoos." NPR. NPR, 1 July 2008. Web. 29 Dec. 2014. .
United States National Park Service. "American Indian History." National Parks Service. U.S. Department of the Interior, 28 Dec. 2014. Web. 29 Dec. 2014.
powerandmagic: POWER & MAGIC: A Queer Witch Comics Anthology… …About Women of Color, By Women of Color! Accepting submissions between February 15th - March 15th 2016. Who Are You? And Why Queer Witches? I’m Joamette Gil, a contributing cartoonist for EverydayFeminism.com as well as an all-around comics maker and social justice pusher. My heart belongs to speculative fiction and watching badass women of color get ahead. In addition to being the title for the anthology, “POWER & MAGIC” is also the imprint name I’ve been sitting on for years for my non-autobio/educational comics work. I want POWER & MAGIC PRESS’s premiere anthology to encapsulate its mission: putting forth stories by myself and others that capture the relationships between us, the powers that be, and the magic of “we.” Witches are icons of female power. They represent rebellion, transcendence, healing, feminine monstrosity, so-called “deviance,” and interconnectedness (with the earth, with their bodies, with each other). And I’m a queer witch, of course. Why Only Women of Color? Because we exist and we matter! Because our spirits soared for the Japanese magical girls on television. Because an avatar from the Southern Water Tribe captured our hearts. Because a black female protagonist is not “unbelievable” in a world where sorcery reigns and mythical beasts run amok. Because queer women of color are on the front lines of fighting for change and justice in real life. Because the fierceness it takes to survive as both a queer person, a person of color, and a woman is worthy of legend. Because comics need women like us, and women like us need to get paid. And because someone is going to ask this as well: yes, this anthology is open to all women of color, not just cisgender or single-gender women. Women are women! The Nitty Gritty Submission Period: Submissions will open at 12:00 am Pacific Standard Time on February 15th, 2016, and close at 11:59 pm on March 15th, 2016. Acceptance and rejection letters will go out on March 31st, 2016. Specs: All comics will be 6″ x 9″ (trim size) and in black & white (grayscale and tones okay). Stories will range between 3 - 13 pages long. More details will be provided to those accepted! Instructions: Send an email to powerandmagicpress@gmail.com with the subject line “Power & Magic Submission” including: The name, pronouns, and role of everyone on your team. Solo submissions are fine, too! A working title and page count for your comic (doesn’t have to be exact). A synopsis of your story, including a beginning, middle, and end. Spoil everything relevant - I need to know! - but try to keep it under 500 words. Well under. A list of any relevant publishing credits (whether you’re writing the comic, drawing it, lettering it, or doing everything yourself) plus links. Try to choose examples that best reflect the style you’re going for with the anthology comic. Self-published work/webcomics count! You can simply include a link to your art portfolio if you have no pre-existing credits, but please note that folks with examples of sequential storytelling will receive preference. Tell me about yourself, your cultural and artistic background, and why you want to be in POWER & MAGIC. Short and sweet is best! Rights: By accepting payment, you are ceding exclusive first worldwide rights to your story for a full calendar year from the date of publication, and non-exclusive worldwide reprint and digital rights in perpetuity. That means you are granting me permission to print, reprint, and sell the anthology with your work included in it (in both physical and digital format) indefinitely. It also means you are promising not to print or post your POWER & MAGIC submission until after the print copies of the anthology have been on sale for one calendar year. The *second* they have been, you can do literally anything you want with the comic pages you made - post them all on your Tumblr, reprint it as its own mini, sell that mini, submit it to other anthologies that except pre-existing work, etc - because they are YOUR sole intellectual property! Compensation: $100 per page, per team, pending Kickstarter success. If the Kickstarter does not succeed, for whatever reason, you are free to self-publish your submissions as you see fit, and I will have zero rights to publish your work! If everything goes well, compensation will also include a minimum of 10 complementary copies of the anthology for each creative team as well as the right to purchase more copies at 50% off the cover price for as long as I have copies in stock. If everything goes very well (overfunding), excess funds will be used to raise creator pay! What Should I NOT Submit? No fan comics. No autobio. No prose. No one-off illustrations. No unexamined bigotry. No genitals (sex and sexuality are fine so long as they service the plot). No excessive gore. No torture porn. No steampunk. Wait! I have another question! Pop it in here so I can build up a FAQ! :)
This image displays the magnitude of links from one porn site to others. The WOT porn crawler was created to find the relationships and interconnectedness between them all.
The discussion will address a key question at the heart of the international economic and political landscape: have the benefits of globalization been oversold? Slow global growth and increasing inequality, civil conflict and refugee flows, and the rise of political figures espousing nationalist and protectionist positions pose difficult challenges to global interconnectedness. Panelists will offer fresh perspectives on these emerging issues.
a dog observes the interconnectedness of the universe and also something moving in the grass over there
Let me start with a illustration from one of the most popular philosophers known as Alan Watts;
The smiling young man began proudly telling Watts about his girlfriend and how wonderful she was. Eventually, he pulled out his wallet and opened it to show Watts a photograph of his beloved. The young man smiled proudly and lovingly. "That looks just like her!" he said, pointing to the photo. "Really?" said Watts. "Is she that small?"
The matter of fact is we often see ourselves symbolically than seeing who and what we really are. We do the same thing with the world around us. Think of how many times we have found ourselves in beautiful natural surroundings, looking directly -- in absolute awe -- at something like the Hunza Valley, Biafo Glacier, or Kaghan Valley.
We are part of a whole. When we live in artificial, human-made, climate-controlled environments, we don't learn to tune to the flow of nature. We don't develop the capacity to understand our dependence on and interconnectedness with the natural world. In the absence of direct immersion in the natural world, we lose the awareness of our inherent connection with it.
With just a slight change in perception, just a slight adjustment, we always have the opportunity to see life differently. What is required is learning how to let go of the neurotic, shortsighted, culturally bound notions of who we are and what our lives are about. When we can do that, a vast new universe of possibilities for happiness and fulfillment opens up before us.
Sunrise over Jalkhad Valley in Large
Taken: Sunrise at Jalkhad camping site, Upper Kaghan Valley, Pakistan.
Amsterdam Light Festival.
Janet Echelman’s 230-foot-long aerial sculpture was installed over the Amstel River from atop the Amsterdam Stopera, which houses the City Hall and Muziektheater. The sculpture is a made entirely of soft materials, including Spectra® fiber, a material 15 times stronger than steel by weight, which allows it to attach to existing architecture without extra reinforcement. A unique lighting program integrates an undulation of changing and contrasting colors, reflected on the water below. The sculpture becomes an ethereal form which transforms day to night, and in darkness appears to “float in thin air.”
The form and content of the artwork draws inspiration from the interconnectedness of Earth’s systems. The artist used laboratory data from NASA and NOAA on the effects of the 2010 Chile earthquake, and the resulting 1.26-microsecond shortening of the Earth’s day. The sculpture’s three-dimensional form is inspired by the Echelman’s mapping of tsunami wave heights across an entire ocean.
As the signature project of the 2012–2013 Amsterdam Light Festival, the artwork underscores global interdependence.
“In Amsterdam, the river and canals have been central to city life for the last four centuries,” said Echelman. “The light reflections on the water’s surface become a focus of the sculpture here, creating an opportunity for contemplation. The sculpture invites you to pause and consider how we’re knitted into a larger fabric.”
Rogier van der Heide, curator of the Amsterdam Light Festival, said Echelman’s sculpture “provided more meaning to public spaces, showed the beauty of simplicity, and – probably most importantly – brought people together.”
The installation in the Netherlands was the European premiere of the 1.26 project, which has now been exhibited on three continents. It was originally suspended from the Denver Art Museum to commemorate the inaugural Biennial of the Americas in 2010. In 2011, it travelled to Australia, where it was suspended in front of Sydney’s historic Town Hall.
(Source: Wikipedia)
Taken by: Emiel Dekker (emield.myportfolio.com/)
(please always ask me for permission first if you would like to use any of my photographs)
Cavalia's Odysseo moved me to tears! Sappy, I know.....but there's something about the spirit of horses that reminds us of our nature....the one we've forgotten about, lost in busy lives. That interconnectedness with other living beings. That inter-species ability to communicate through movement and silence. That perfect harmony, and inner balance that forever seems just out of reach for me.
See also Agata Olek talks about her 100% Acrylic Art Guards (Flickr 720p HD video)
Agata Olek (Flickr)
100% Acrylic Art Guards
"I think crochet, the way I create it, is a metaphor for the complexity and interconnectedness of our body and its systems and psychology. The connections are stronger as one fabric as opposed to separate strands, but, if you cut one, the whole thing will fall apart.
Relationships are complex and greatly vary situation to situation. They are developmental journeys of growth, and transformation. Time passes, great distances are surpassed and the fabric which individuals are composed of compiles and unravels simultaneously."
Agata Olek Biography. The SPLAT! of colors hits you in the face, often clashing so ostentatiously that it instantly tunes you into the presence of severely cheeky humor. A moment later the fatigue of labor creeps into your fingers as a coal miner's work ethic becomes apparent. Hundreds of miles of crocheted, weaved, and often recycled materials are the fabric from which the wild and occasionally wearable structures of her fantasylands are born.
Olek was born Agata Oleksiak in Poland and graduated from Adam Mickiewicz University in Poland with a degree in cultural studies. In New York, she rediscovered her ability to crochet and since then she has started her crocheted journey/madness.
Resume sniffers may be pleased to know Olek's work has been presented in galleries from Brooklyn to Istanbul to Venice and Brazil, featured in "The New York Times", "Fiberarts Magazine", "The Village Voice", and "Washington Post" and drags a tail of dance performance sets and costumes too numerous to mention.
Olek received the Ruth Mellon Award for Sculpture, was selected for 2005 residency program at Sculpture Space, 2009 residency in Instituto Sacatar in Brazil, and is a winner of apex art gallery commercial competition. Olek was an artist in an independent collective exhibition, "Waterways," during the 49th Venice Biennale. She was also a featured artist in "Two Continents Beyond," at the 9th International Istanbul Biennale.
Olek herself however can be found in her Greenpoint studio with a bottle of spiced Polish vodka and a hand rolled cigarette aggressively re-weaving the world as she sees.
13th annual D.U.M.B.O. Art Under the Bridge Festival® (Sept 25 to Sept 27, 2009)
www.dumboartfestival.org/press_release.html
The three-day multi-site neighborhood-wide event is a one-of-a-kind art happening: where serendipity meets the haphazard and where the unpredictable, spontaneous and downright weird thrive. The now teenage D.U.M.B.O. Art Under the Bridge Festival® presents touchable, accessible, and interactive art, on a scale that makes it the nation's largest urban forum for experimental art.
Art Under the Bridge is an opportunity for young artists to use any medium imaginable to create temporary projects on-the-spot everywhere and anywhere, completely transforming the Dumbo section of Brooklyn, New York, into a vibrant platform for self-expression. In addition to the 80+ projects throughout the historical post-industrial waterfront span, visitors can tour local artists' studios or check out the indoor video_dumbo, a non-stop program of cutting-edge video art from New York City and around the world.
The Dumbo Arts Center (DAC) has been the exclusive producer of the D.U.M.B.O Art Under the Bridge Festival® since 1997. DAC is a big impact, small non-profit, that in addition to its year-round gallery exhibitions, is committed to preserving Dumbo as a site in New York City where emerging visual artists can experiment in the public domain, while having unprecedented freedom and access to normally off-limit locations.
Related SML
+ SML Flickr Collections: Events
+ SML Flickr Sets: Dumbo Arts Center: Art Under the Bridge Festival 2009
The transient beauty of the coast is intricately intertwined with the captivating patterns that emerge in the sand, crafted by the relentless forces of wind and wave. These natural sculptors shape the shoreline, leaving behind ephemeral masterpieces.
As the tides ebb and flow, they orchestrate a delicate dance with the sand. With each advancing wave, the water gently caresses the shore, carrying particles of sand along its journey. As the wave recedes, it relinquishes its cargo, depositing the grains in a meticulous arrangement. This cyclical process, repeated countless times, creates intricate patterns that stretch along the coastline.
The patterns left behind by the retreating tide mimic the ebb and flow of life itself. Swirling ripples, reminiscent of a miniature desert landscape, emerge as the water recedes, their graceful curves and undulating lines transforming the beach into a living work of art. The patterns are at once orderly and chaotic, with intricate geometrical formations intermingling with whimsical curves and asymmetrical shapes.
The wind, a silent artist in its own right, adds its touch to the sculpting process. As it sweeps across the coast, it whispers secrets to the sand, coaxing it to dance in its invisible embrace. The wind's gentle touch lifts fine particles from the beach, carrying them aloft in an intricate ballet. It sculpts the sand into delicate ripples, resembling the soft undulations of fabric.
The interplay between the wind and the tide results in an ever-changing landscape. The patterns shift and evolve, shaped by the combined forces of these elemental sculptors. Ripples become miniature mountains, rising and falling in a transient topography that mirrors the larger contours of the surrounding coast. Each gust of wind and every advancing or receding wave leaves its mark, etching new patterns and erasing old ones, in an eternal cycle of creation and destruction.
These ephemeral patterns serve as a reminder of the impermanence of existence and the transient nature of beauty, as each passing moment alters the landscape, erasing what once was and creating something new. The sands become a canvas for the symphony of time, a tangible reflection of the ever-changing nature of our lives.
The beauty of these fleeting patterns lies not only in their visual allure but also in the emotions they evoke. They inspire a sense of wonder and awe, inviting us to pause and appreciate the intricate designs that nature creates with such effortless grace. The patterns speak of the interconnectedness of all things, the harmonious interplay between the elements, and the constant flux that defines our existence.
In these patterns of nature, we find a profound lesson: that life, like the shifting sands, is ever-changing, and that true beauty lies not in permanence but in the appreciation of the fleeting moments that grace our journey.
This work, a rigorous exploration of the intersections between conflict, ideology, and natural phenomena, it seeks to interrogate the enduring structures of power and resistance through an abstract visual language dominated by vibrant primary colours. The composition’s unapologetic saturation recalls not only the primal forces within colour theory but also evokes the ideological polarities that undergird Marxist theory and its critique of hegemonic oppression.
The juxtaposition of dominant reds with intense blues and yellows is not merely a chromatic exercise but an intentional invocation of socio-political dynamics. The red, historically emblematic of revolutionary zeal, is here transmuted into an image of territorial encroachment, symbolizing the Russian invasion of Ukraine. The compositional tension between this red and the contrasting yellow and blue (a nod to the Ukrainian flag) functions as a visual dialectic, evoking the material conflicts of occupation and sovereignty that are as much corporeal as they are ideological.
The inclusion of this dialectic is further informed by Marxist theory, which underpins the piece’s critique of imperialism as an economic manifestation of class antagonisms on an international scale. By representing these colours in both confrontation and coalescence, the work comments on the cyclical nature of imperialism as both a product and perpetuator of global capitalism.
The thematic undertones are underscored by a conceptual resonance with the songs of whales—a species known for its complex, haunting vocalizations. These creatures, communicating across vast oceans, serve as a metaphor for resistance and interconnectedness that transcends human conflict, embodying a natural, almost primal defiance against the often-destructive forces of modern industry and warfare. The whales’ song, though unheard visually, is embedded within the rhythmic, flowing brushstrokes and layered textures that suggest both distance and proximity, echoing the yearning for connection amidst separation imposed by conflict.
In this painting, colour, form, and theme converge to offer a critique of imperialism and a meditation on collective resilience, where each brushstroke becomes both an act of creation and resistance. The vibrancy of the primary palette reframes a scene of invasion and resilience, positing a space where ideological conflict resonates with the collective voice of nature itself, embodying an abstracted yet tangible solidarity that persists against oppression.
I woke up last Sunday at 3:30 am to catch a 6:10 am flight to San Francisco. Arrived, had a beer and people watched from 8 am to noon, and then the shuttle picked up a group of us lucky people bound for Esalen Institute. A retreat tucked into cliffs of the wild Pacific. I arrived about 4:30 pm. Pacific time. Long day! So worth it.
I was there attending a workshop aptly named Nature and Contemplation: Cultivating Wild Mindfulness presented by Steve Harper, his son Kai Harper, Noel Vietor and Fletcher Tucker. Four amazing leaders. More about this hiking workshop later - it was deep and wide, heartfelt, and mind blowing. Contemplative.
After a long day of travel followed by the complete awe of seeing and smelling this magical place for the first time, I was exhausted. Way too much beauty to process. I had a little time to shoot a few frames before dinner and our first workshop meeting from 8:30 pm -10:30 pm. So yeah, this is a story picture. I'm the bright flower with the colorful tired head. Roots exposed, reflective. It was a week of connecting with humans and nature and feeling the interconnectedness between it all. So many tears for the beauty that dipped into pain and memories. Profound.
At the IAIA Museum of Contemporary Native Arts (MoCNA), Santa Fe
Museum signage:
Darren Vigil Gray
(b. 1959, Jicarilla Apache/Kiowa Apache)
Original Landlords, 2018
Acrylic on canvas
Additionally:
Expanding Horizons: Darren Vigil Gray
Darren Vigil Gray’s landscapes are seemingly alive and in motion. The paintings’s [sic] expressive energy, and the personal range of brushwork and color are inspired by Abstract Expressionism and Bay Area Figurative Art. Raised on the Jicarilla Apache reservation, Gray attended the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe from 1975 to 1977, concentrating on painting. He studied the work of T.C. Cannon (Kiowa/Caddo, 1946-1978) and Fritz Scholder (1937-2005, Luiseño), and later immersed himself in the Southwest landscapes of Victor Higgins and Georgia O’Keeffe.
His landscapes often start with sketches of photographs on site and are then rendered in the studio. They express his feelings for and memories of the land. Gray originates from the land he is painting. “I understand the land’s secret beauty, its ancient history and my interconnectedness to it. This is the land of my people, the Jicarilla Apache.”
His landscapes are created through an array of rich colors, textures, and rhythmic brushstrokes, not contour lines that define objects. His vivid layering of color and multi-directional, loose or slashing brushstrokes add to the physical quality of his surfaces. He also lest the paintings have a role in their creation, looking for the figures and shapes to emerge. He paints and repaints, “I have to ma a lot of chaos, and out of the chaos, I start massaging the forms into play.” As a result of this spontaneous, intuitive approach, his paintings pulse with the energy of the high desert
landscapes. The atmosphere is quite literally “charged” in these colorful and energetic landscapes.
Gray’s art is in the permanent collection of the IAIA Museum of Contemporary Native Arts, Heard Museum, Phoenix Arizona; Museum of Mankind, Vienna, Austria; Philbrook Museum of Art, Tulsa; The Bruce Museum, Greenwich Connecticut; and the Denver Art Museum, Denver, Colorado.
Excerpt from www.k11musea.com/about-k11-musea/:
Located at Victoria Dockside, K11 Art and Cultural District of Tsim Sha Tsui, K11 MUSEA is Hong Kong’s pioneering cultural-retail landmark. Inspired by ‘A Muse by the Sea’, K11 MUSEA is designed to enrich the new consumer’s daily life through the power of creativity, culture and innovation.
A destination 10 years in the making, K11 MUSEA was crafted by renowned entrepreneur Adrian Cheng together with 100 Creative Powers, a roster of more than 100 international architects, artists and designers who sought to create the ultimate space for all to embark on a “journey of imagination”. Since opening its doors in 2019, the museum-worthy landmark has ushered in a new era of cultural retail which speaks to the growing consumer demand for immersive experiences in art, culture, nature and commerce.
K11 Group was founded by renowned entrepreneur Adrian Cheng in 2008 with a social mission to incubate talent and propagate culture. In creating Victoria Dockside, K11 Art and Cultural District — K11 Group’s most ambitious project to date — Cheng’s vision is to inspire global millennials through establishing K11 MUSEA as the Silicon Valley of Culture, while facilitating a broader discussion on the interconnectedness of creativity, culture and innovation.
K11 MUSEA is located at the heart of Victoria Dockside,K11 Art and Cultural District. The art and design district is built on a historic site formerly known as Holt’s Wharf, a freight and logistics hub that transformed Hong Kong into one of the busiest ports in the world. Paying tribute to Hong Kong’s unique history and cultural cosmopolitanism, K11 MUSEA is committed to incubating the local cultural scene with a world-class rotation of art events, collaborations, experiences, and workshops throughout the year.
The architecture of K11 MUSEA was designed by Kohn Pedersen Fox and James Corner Field Operations in collaboration with 100 Creative Powers, including Rotterdam-based OMA and Hong Kong-based architecture studios LAAB and AB Concept.
Wat Plai Laem is a breathtaking Buddhist temple complex located on the island of Koh Samui in Thailand.
This stunning sanctuary is a true feast for the senses, blending rather large and small architecture, vibrant colors, and a serene atmosphere that leaves you appreciating the scale of the enterprise. The finesse in details is wanting when you compare it to other statues and buildings that you see in Thailand or Srilanka or India.
The main highlight of Wat Plai Laem is the iconic 18-armed statue of the Goddess of Mercy, Guanyin, that is not in the picture though.
The temple's design incorporates elements of Chinese and Thai traditions and was in part designed by distinguished Thai artist Jarit Phumdonming with a whole lot of help from the Chinese community.
This is a green hued Buddha in all probability but one does not see Buddha wielding a Trident and having ornate jewellery and clothing on him.
Maybe Maitreya Buddha on whom a trident is often to be found.
Koh Samui is serene., At the Wat Plai Laem one is reminded of the profound teachings of Buddhism
Perchance, we can contemplate the interconnectedness of all things and the importance of finding balance and harmony in our lives.
_DSC4895 nef 2024
The transient beauty of the coast is intricately intertwined with the captivating patterns that emerge in the sand, crafted by the relentless forces of wind and wave. These natural sculptors shape the shoreline, leaving behind ephemeral masterpieces.
As the tides ebb and flow, they orchestrate a delicate dance with the sand. With each advancing wave, the water gently caresses the shore, carrying particles of sand along its journey. As the wave recedes, it relinquishes its cargo, depositing the grains in a meticulous arrangement. This cyclical process, repeated countless times, creates intricate patterns that stretch along the coastline.
The patterns left behind by the retreating tide mimic the ebb and flow of life itself. Swirling ripples, reminiscent of a miniature desert landscape, emerge as the water recedes, their graceful curves and undulating lines transforming the beach into a living work of art. The patterns are at once orderly and chaotic, with intricate geometrical formations intermingling with whimsical curves and asymmetrical shapes.
The wind, a silent artist in its own right, adds its touch to the sculpting process. As it sweeps across the coast, it whispers secrets to the sand, coaxing it to dance in its invisible embrace. The wind's gentle touch lifts fine particles from the beach, carrying them aloft in an intricate ballet. It sculpts the sand into delicate ripples, resembling the soft undulations of fabric.
The interplay between the wind and the tide results in an ever-changing landscape. The patterns shift and evolve, shaped by the combined forces of these elemental sculptors. Ripples become miniature mountains, rising and falling in a transient topography that mirrors the larger contours of the surrounding coast. Each gust of wind and every advancing or receding wave leaves its mark, etching new patterns and erasing old ones, in an eternal cycle of creation and destruction.
These ephemeral patterns serve as a reminder of the impermanence of existence and the transient nature of beauty, as each passing moment alters the landscape, erasing what once was and creating something new. The sands become a canvas for the symphony of time, a tangible reflection of the ever-changing nature of our lives.
The beauty of these fleeting patterns lies not only in their visual allure but also in the emotions they evoke. They inspire a sense of wonder and awe, inviting us to pause and appreciate the intricate designs that nature creates with such effortless grace. The patterns speak of the interconnectedness of all things, the harmonious interplay between the elements, and the constant flux that defines our existence.
In these patterns of nature, we find a profound lesson: that life, like the shifting sands, is ever-changing, and that true beauty lies not in permanence but in the appreciation of the fleeting moments that grace our journey.
Rachel Grant. Draw the line. Duration: 8 hours. Photograph by Sid Scott.
Drawing Through Process
Ross Hamilton Frew, Rachel Grant, Daniella Turbin
Curated by Vanessa Larsen
Drawing Through Process explores the transitional space of drawing - where thinking, action and medium connect. The exhibition considers drawing as a way of discovering, developing and communicating ideas. The artists in the exhibition use line and movement to represent this translation and structure of interconnectedness within their drawing processes.
Ross Hamilton Frew follows a series of systematic frameworks to determine the outcome of his individual pieces. Daniella Turbin combines strategic geometric lines with instinctual gestures in her performative drawings. The performative process of drawing is demonstrated through a durational drawing by Rachel Grant. The exhibition presents visitors with the opportunity to engage with and experience a range of drawing processes and question the imaginary threshold that exists within the transitional space of drawing.
Performance: 'Draw the line' by Rachel Grant will take place all day on Saturday 3 September.
For more information please visit: www.facebook.com/events/515683548626085/
Poverty is the state for the majority of the world’s people and nations. Why is this? Is it enough to blame poor people for their own predicament? Have they been lazy, made poor decisions, and been solely responsible for their plight? What about their governments? Have they pursued policies that actually harm successful development? Such causes of poverty and inequality are no doubt real. But deeper and more global causes of poverty are often less discussed.
Behind the increasing interconnectedness promised by globalization are global decisions, policies, and practices. These are typically influenced, driven, or formulated by the rich and powerful. These can be leaders of rich countries or other global actors such as multinational corporations, institutions, and influential people.
In the face of such enormous external influence, the governments of poor nations and their people are often powerless. As a result, in the global context, a few get wealthy while the majority struggle.
Available:
www.selekkt.com/f/manufacturer/1061
Paper Color: White - Matt
Ink Color: Black, Orange & Red
Edition: 25
Size: 29.7cm x 27.3cm
Weight: 250g/m2
Artwork by Karl Addison
For More Information:
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As Karl Addison’s art and vision evolves—from blank slate, to paper, to mural, to installation, to unoccupied public space—our understanding and comprehension of the world around us begins to unfold as well. We may not notice his input, infiltrating our subconscious—our everyday—but it’s there. A beautiful woman’s face composed of negative space watching peacefully over a cemetery in Wedding, a fragile old Jewish woman towering over a decommissioned factory in Berlin, an urban zoo of imagined creatures deposited all over the globe, an abandoned room filled with 4,500 fat babies…Addison’s art and commentary on history and culture are everywhere, becoming part of the collective unconscious.
Through his travels to Italy, Israel, Japan, throughout the US, and his current residence in Berlin, Addison’s overarching theme of people and the spaces they occupy and interact with has taken shape. By focusing on pieces, which work to become part of public space rather than interrupt it, his intent to create regenerative art through murals and other mediums is being actualized. He has achieved this both independently and collaboratively with other contemporary artists and painters, most notably James Boullough. Addison’s recent and current collaborative projects also highlight his more narrowed focus of interconnectedness, “connecting humanity around the world with different cultures from different places,” he wants us to value tiny lines, details, to appreciate a world view and hopefully, start extolling minute details of our own.
It takes an extraordinary person, one with talent, courage, and patience, to express himself the way Addison does. To project his voice and vision for the world to see—to rip it out of a sketch book or a blank page in his mind—and produce it. To take it beyond the two-dimensional and spray paint, wheat paste, bomb, the side of a building with an illimitable piece of art. To exhibit in public space—on walls, on clothing, in art galleries—what a beautiful fucking thing. Art—“a new mode of obtaining power of mind over mind” leaving the watching to the watched.
- written by jennifer weitman
At the IAIA Museum of Contemporary Native Arts, Santa Fe
Museum signage:
Darren Vigil Gray
(b. 1959, Jicarilla Apache/Kiowa Apache)
Ancient Abiquiu # 1, 2018
Acrylic on paper board
Ancient Abiquiu # 1 is part of a larger series of landscape paintings. Gray explains, “Abiquiu is where the Jicarilla Apaches were based before the reservation. The landscape is so beautiful, and I have such an affinity for it. I have walked all over the place there. Georgia O’Keeffe did as well. She said the Pedernal (mesa) was hers, but it was not hers, even though she had a great reverence for it…we have sacred sites there on the Pedernal; we used to dig there for mica to use in our micaceous clay coil pots. There is no doubt that this area of the country holds an incredible fascination for me as a painter.”
Additionally:
Expanding Horizons: Darren Vigil Gray
Darren Vigil Gray’s landscapes are seemingly alive and in motion. The paintings’s [sic] expressive energy, and the personal range of brushwork and color are inspired by Abstract Expressionism and Bay Area Figurative Art. Raised on the Jicarilla Apache reservation, Gray attended the Institute of American Indian Arts in Santa Fe from 1975 to 1977, concentrating on painting. He studied the work of T.C. Cannon (Kiowa/Caddo, 1946-1978) and Fritz Scholder (1937-2005, Luiseño), and later immersed himself in the Southwest landscapes of Victor Higgins and Georgia O’Keeffe.
His landscapes often start with sketches of photographs on site and are then rendered in the studio. They express his feelings for and memories of the land. Gray originates from the land he is painting. “I understand the land’s secret beauty, its ancient history and my interconnectedness to it. This is the land of my people, the Jicarilla Apache.”
His landscapes are created through an array of rich colors, textures, and rhythmic brushstrokes, not contour lines that define objects. His vivid layering of color and multi-directional, loose or slashing brushstrokes add to the physical quality of his surfaces. He also lest the paintings have a role in their creation, looking for the figures and shapes to emerge. He paints and repaints, “I have to ma a lot of chaos, and out of the chaos, I start massaging the forms into play.” As a result of this spontaneous, intuitive approach, his paintings pulse with the energy of the high desert
landscapes. The atmosphere is quite literally “charged” in these colorful and energetic landscapes.
Gray’s art is in the permanent collection of the IAIA Museum of Contemporary Native Arts, Heard Museum, Phoenix Arizona; Museum of Mankind, Vienna, Austria; Philbrook Museum of Art, Tulsa; The Bruce Museum, Greenwich Connecticut; and the Denver Art Museum, Denver, Colorado.
Waited all week for Oxbow Bend to be still--but the smoke from the Yellowstone fire, combined with the much smaller Deer Paw fire in the Tetons, provided an unanticipated haze. The interconnectedness of the entire ecosystem becomes so apparent--it's one of the reasons that the area revitalizes you.
The discussion will address a key question at the heart of the international economic and political landscape: have the benefits of globalization been oversold? Slow global growth and increasing inequality, civil conflict and refugee flows, and the rise of political figures espousing nationalist and protectionist positions pose difficult challenges to global interconnectedness. Panelists will offer fresh perspectives on these emerging issues.
See also Agata Olek talks about her 100% Acrylic Art Guards (Flickr 720p HD video)
Agata Olek (Flickr)
100% Acrylic Art Guards
"I think crochet, the way I create it, is a metaphor for the complexity and interconnectedness of our body and its systems and psychology. The connections are stronger as one fabric as opposed to separate strands, but, if you cut one, the whole thing will fall apart.
Relationships are complex and greatly vary situation to situation. They are developmental journeys of growth, and transformation. Time passes, great distances are surpassed and the fabric which individuals are composed of compiles and unravels simultaneously."
Agata Olek Biography. The SPLAT! of colors hits you in the face, often clashing so ostentatiously that it instantly tunes you into the presence of severely cheeky humor. A moment later the fatigue of labor creeps into your fingers as a coal miner's work ethic becomes apparent. Hundreds of miles of crocheted, weaved, and often recycled materials are the fabric from which the wild and occasionally wearable structures of her fantasylands are born.
Olek was born Agata Oleksiak in Poland and graduated from Adam Mickiewicz University in Poland with a degree in cultural studies. In New York, she rediscovered her ability to crochet and since then she has started her crocheted journey/madness.
Resume sniffers may be pleased to know Olek's work has been presented in galleries from Brooklyn to Istanbul to Venice and Brazil, featured in "The New York Times", "Fiberarts Magazine", "The Village Voice", and "Washington Post" and drags a tail of dance performance sets and costumes too numerous to mention.
Olek received the Ruth Mellon Award for Sculpture, was selected for 2005 residency program at Sculpture Space, 2009 residency in Instituto Sacatar in Brazil, and is a winner of apex art gallery commercial competition. Olek was an artist in an independent collective exhibition, "Waterways," during the 49th Venice Biennale. She was also a featured artist in "Two Continents Beyond," at the 9th International Istanbul Biennale.
Olek herself however can be found in her Greenpoint studio with a bottle of spiced Polish vodka and a hand rolled cigarette aggressively re-weaving the world as she sees.
13th annual D.U.M.B.O. Art Under the Bridge Festival® (Sept 25 to Sept 27, 2009)
www.dumboartfestival.org/press_release.html
The three-day multi-site neighborhood-wide event is a one-of-a-kind art happening: where serendipity meets the haphazard and where the unpredictable, spontaneous and downright weird thrive. The now teenage D.U.M.B.O. Art Under the Bridge Festival® presents touchable, accessible, and interactive art, on a scale that makes it the nation's largest urban forum for experimental art.
Art Under the Bridge is an opportunity for young artists to use any medium imaginable to create temporary projects on-the-spot everywhere and anywhere, completely transforming the Dumbo section of Brooklyn, New York, into a vibrant platform for self-expression. In addition to the 80+ projects throughout the historical post-industrial waterfront span, visitors can tour local artists' studios or check out the indoor video_dumbo, a non-stop program of cutting-edge video art from New York City and around the world.
The Dumbo Arts Center (DAC) has been the exclusive producer of the D.U.M.B.O Art Under the Bridge Festival® since 1997. DAC is a big impact, small non-profit, that in addition to its year-round gallery exhibitions, is committed to preserving Dumbo as a site in New York City where emerging visual artists can experiment in the public domain, while having unprecedented freedom and access to normally off-limit locations.
Related SML
+ SML Flickr Collections: Events
+ SML Flickr Sets: Dumbo Arts Center: Art Under the Bridge Festival 2009
See also Agata Olek talks about her 100% Acrylic Art Guards (Flickr 720p HD video)
Agata Olek (Flickr)
100% Acrylic Art Guards
"I think crochet, the way I create it, is a metaphor for the complexity and interconnectedness of our body and its systems and psychology. The connections are stronger as one fabric as opposed to separate strands, but, if you cut one, the whole thing will fall apart.
Relationships are complex and greatly vary situation to situation. They are developmental journeys of growth, and transformation. Time passes, great distances are surpassed and the fabric which individuals are composed of compiles and unravels simultaneously."
Agata Olek Biography. The SPLAT! of colors hits you in the face, often clashing so ostentatiously that it instantly tunes you into the presence of severely cheeky humor. A moment later the fatigue of labor creeps into your fingers as a coal miner's work ethic becomes apparent. Hundreds of miles of crocheted, weaved, and often recycled materials are the fabric from which the wild and occasionally wearable structures of her fantasylands are born.
Olek was born Agata Oleksiak in Poland and graduated from Adam Mickiewicz University in Poland with a degree in cultural studies. In New York, she rediscovered her ability to crochet and since then she has started her crocheted journey/madness.
Resume sniffers may be pleased to know Olek's work has been presented in galleries from Brooklyn to Istanbul to Venice and Brazil, featured in "The New York Times", "Fiberarts Magazine", "The Village Voice", and "Washington Post" and drags a tail of dance performance sets and costumes too numerous to mention.
Olek received the Ruth Mellon Award for Sculpture, was selected for 2005 residency program at Sculpture Space, 2009 residency in Instituto Sacatar in Brazil, and is a winner of apex art gallery commercial competition. Olek was an artist in an independent collective exhibition, "Waterways," during the 49th Venice Biennale. She was also a featured artist in "Two Continents Beyond," at the 9th International Istanbul Biennale.
Olek herself however can be found in her Greenpoint studio with a bottle of spiced Polish vodka and a hand rolled cigarette aggressively re-weaving the world as she sees.
13th annual D.U.M.B.O. Art Under the Bridge Festival® (Sept 25 to Sept 27, 2009)
www.dumboartfestival.org/press_release.html
The three-day multi-site neighborhood-wide event is a one-of-a-kind art happening: where serendipity meets the haphazard and where the unpredictable, spontaneous and downright weird thrive. The now teenage D.U.M.B.O. Art Under the Bridge Festival® presents touchable, accessible, and interactive art, on a scale that makes it the nation's largest urban forum for experimental art.
Art Under the Bridge is an opportunity for young artists to use any medium imaginable to create temporary projects on-the-spot everywhere and anywhere, completely transforming the Dumbo section of Brooklyn, New York, into a vibrant platform for self-expression. In addition to the 80+ projects throughout the historical post-industrial waterfront span, visitors can tour local artists' studios or check out the indoor video_dumbo, a non-stop program of cutting-edge video art from New York City and around the world.
The Dumbo Arts Center (DAC) has been the exclusive producer of the D.U.M.B.O Art Under the Bridge Festival® since 1997. DAC is a big impact, small non-profit, that in addition to its year-round gallery exhibitions, is committed to preserving Dumbo as a site in New York City where emerging visual artists can experiment in the public domain, while having unprecedented freedom and access to normally off-limit locations.
Related SML
+ SML Flickr Collections: Events
+ SML Flickr Sets: Dumbo Arts Center: Art Under the Bridge Festival 2009
Bathed in morning light on 18th Street in San Francisco’s Mission District, the Women’s Building stands as both a community cornerstone and a monumental work of public art. Completed in 1910, this historic structure houses one of the city’s most beloved and powerful murals: MaestraPeace, created in 1994 by seven Bay Area muralists—Juana Alicia, Miranda Bergman, Edythe Boone, Susan Cervantes, Meera Desai, Yvonne Littleton, and Irene Pérez. Together, they transformed the building’s façade into a vibrant, multi-story celebration of women’s wisdom, resilience, and creativity across cultures and centuries.
The MaestraPeace mural is a visual symphony of color and meaning. Its intricate layers depict women from global traditions—artists, healers, scientists, freedom fighters, and spiritual figures—woven together in a tapestry of empowerment. From the swirling blues and reds that encircle the entrance to the larger-than-life faces gazing from the upper stories, the mural tells a story of inclusion and solidarity. Figures such as Rigoberta Menchú, Audre Lorde, and Georgia O’Keeffe appear among goddesses, ancestors, and unnamed heroines, reminding viewers that the struggle for justice and equality transcends time and place.
The Women’s Building itself has played a central role in San Francisco’s social and cultural life since its founding in 1971 by a coalition of feminist activists. As the first women-owned and operated community center in the United States, it has served generations of women and families with programs focused on housing, employment, legal aid, arts, and education. Over the decades, the building has remained a gathering place for advocacy and mutual support—a living embodiment of the city’s activist heart.
In 2012, the MaestraPeace mural underwent a full restoration, ensuring that its vivid colors and layered iconography would continue to inspire future generations. Its themes of interconnectedness, cultural pride, and self-determination resonate as strongly today as they did when it was first painted. For many San Franciscans, this building isn’t just a landmark—it’s a manifesto made visible, a declaration that women’s stories belong on the walls of the city itself.
Standing before it, one feels the hum of life that defines the Mission District—the scent of pan dulce from nearby bakeries, the sound of Spanish and English intermingling in the air, and the unmistakable sense of creativity that permeates every block. The Women’s Building remains one of San Francisco’s most photographed and meaningful sites, a towering testament to art as activism and community as legacy.
in the arithmetic of life, you=me.
this is a saying i formulated from a couple of different sayings/ideas i have come across, and i believe it. the moment we forget about our interconnectedness, we all lose out.
the ripple effect of each interaction, each moment, each glance means so much to the people on the giving and receiving ends of those actions.
spread the love and kindness around. there is enough :)
The transient beauty of the coast is intricately intertwined with the captivating patterns that emerge in the sand, crafted by the relentless forces of wind and wave. These natural sculptors shape the shoreline, leaving behind ephemeral masterpieces.
As the tides ebb and flow, they orchestrate a delicate dance with the sand. With each advancing wave, the water gently caresses the shore, carrying particles of sand along its journey. As the wave recedes, it relinquishes its cargo, depositing the grains in a meticulous arrangement. This cyclical process, repeated countless times, creates intricate patterns that stretch along the coastline.
The patterns left behind by the retreating tide mimic the ebb and flow of life itself. Swirling ripples, reminiscent of a miniature desert landscape, emerge as the water recedes, their graceful curves and undulating lines transforming the beach into a living work of art. The patterns are at once orderly and chaotic, with intricate geometrical formations intermingling with whimsical curves and asymmetrical shapes.
The wind, a silent artist in its own right, adds its touch to the sculpting process. As it sweeps across the coast, it whispers secrets to the sand, coaxing it to dance in its invisible embrace. The wind's gentle touch lifts fine particles from the beach, carrying them aloft in an intricate ballet. It sculpts the sand into delicate ripples, resembling the soft undulations of fabric.
The interplay between the wind and the tide results in an ever-changing landscape. The patterns shift and evolve, shaped by the combined forces of these elemental sculptors. Ripples become miniature mountains, rising and falling in a transient topography that mirrors the larger contours of the surrounding coast. Each gust of wind and every advancing or receding wave leaves its mark, etching new patterns and erasing old ones, in an eternal cycle of creation and destruction.
These ephemeral patterns serve as a reminder of the impermanence of existence and the transient nature of beauty, as each passing moment alters the landscape, erasing what once was and creating something new. The sands become a canvas for the symphony of time, a tangible reflection of the ever-changing nature of our lives.
The beauty of these fleeting patterns lies not only in their visual allure but also in the emotions they evoke. They inspire a sense of wonder and awe, inviting us to pause and appreciate the intricate designs that nature creates with such effortless grace. The patterns speak of the interconnectedness of all things, the harmonious interplay between the elements, and the constant flux that defines our existence.
In these patterns of nature, we find a profound lesson: that life, like the shifting sands, is ever-changing, and that true beauty lies not in permanence but in the appreciation of the fleeting moments that grace our journey.
The transient beauty of the coast is intricately intertwined with the captivating patterns that emerge in the sand, crafted by the relentless forces of wind and wave. These natural sculptors shape the shoreline, leaving behind ephemeral masterpieces.
As the tides ebb and flow, they orchestrate a delicate dance with the sand. With each advancing wave, the water gently caresses the shore, carrying particles of sand along its journey. As the wave recedes, it relinquishes its cargo, depositing the grains in a meticulous arrangement. This cyclical process, repeated countless times, creates intricate patterns that stretch along the coastline.
The patterns left behind by the retreating tide mimic the ebb and flow of life itself. Swirling ripples, reminiscent of a miniature desert landscape, emerge as the water recedes, their graceful curves and undulating lines transforming the beach into a living work of art. The patterns are at once orderly and chaotic, with intricate geometrical formations intermingling with whimsical curves and asymmetrical shapes.
The wind, a silent artist in its own right, adds its touch to the sculpting process. As it sweeps across the coast, it whispers secrets to the sand, coaxing it to dance in its invisible embrace. The wind's gentle touch lifts fine particles from the beach, carrying them aloft in an intricate ballet. It sculpts the sand into delicate ripples, resembling the soft undulations of fabric.
The interplay between the wind and the tide results in an ever-changing landscape. The patterns shift and evolve, shaped by the combined forces of these elemental sculptors. Ripples become miniature mountains, rising and falling in a transient topography that mirrors the larger contours of the surrounding coast. Each gust of wind and every advancing or receding wave leaves its mark, etching new patterns and erasing old ones, in an eternal cycle of creation and destruction.
These ephemeral patterns serve as a reminder of the impermanence of existence and the transient nature of beauty, as each passing moment alters the landscape, erasing what once was and creating something new. The sands become a canvas for the symphony of time, a tangible reflection of the ever-changing nature of our lives.
The beauty of these fleeting patterns lies not only in their visual allure but also in the emotions they evoke. They inspire a sense of wonder and awe, inviting us to pause and appreciate the intricate designs that nature creates with such effortless grace. The patterns speak of the interconnectedness of all things, the harmonious interplay between the elements, and the constant flux that defines our existence.
In these patterns of nature, we find a profound lesson: that life, like the shifting sands, is ever-changing, and that true beauty lies not in permanence but in the appreciation of the fleeting moments that grace our journey.
Wat Plai Laem is a breathtaking Buddhist temple complex located on the island of Koh Samui in Thailand.
This stunning sanctuary is a true feast for the senses, blending awe-inspiring architecture, vibrant colors, and a serene atmosphere that leaves you appreciating the scale of the enterprise. The finesse in details is wanting when you compare it to other statues and buildings that you see in Thailand or Srilanka or India.
The main highlight of Wat Plai Laem is the iconic 18-armed statue of the Goddess of Mercy, Guanyin, that is not in the picture though.
The temple's design incorporates elements of Chinese and Thai traditions and was in part designed by distinguished Thai artist Jarit Phumdonming with a whole lot of help from the Chinese community.
Had posted an image a few days ago of the inner doorway detail and here is the front of the same.
Koh Samui is serene., At the Wat Plai Laem one is reminded of the profound teachings of Buddhism when you see the figure of the mendicant and the Buddhist Wheel of Life, or Bhavacakra. The wheel is a captivating representation of the cyclical nature of existence, and it serves as a poignant reminder of the impermanence that permeates our world.
The mendicant, with a humble yet dignified presence, embodies the essence of this ancient philosophy. The monks have renounced the material trappings of life, dedicating themselves to the pursuit of spiritual enlightenment and the alleviation of suffering. Their very existence is a testament to the power of simplicity, compassion, and the quest for inner peace.
Perchance, we can contemplate the interconnectedness of all things and the importance of finding balance and harmony in our lives.
_DSC4838 nef
See also Agata Olek talks about her 100% Acrylic Art Guards (Flickr 720p HD video)
Agata Olek (Flickr)
100% Acrylic Art Guards
"I think crochet, the way I create it, is a metaphor for the complexity and interconnectedness of our body and its systems and psychology. The connections are stronger as one fabric as opposed to separate strands, but, if you cut one, the whole thing will fall apart.
Relationships are complex and greatly vary situation to situation. They are developmental journeys of growth, and transformation. Time passes, great distances are surpassed and the fabric which individuals are composed of compiles and unravels simultaneously."
Agata Olek Biography. The SPLAT! of colors hits you in the face, often clashing so ostentatiously that it instantly tunes you into the presence of severely cheeky humor. A moment later the fatigue of labor creeps into your fingers as a coal miner's work ethic becomes apparent. Hundreds of miles of crocheted, weaved, and often recycled materials are the fabric from which the wild and occasionally wearable structures of her fantasylands are born.
Olek was born Agata Oleksiak in Poland and graduated from Adam Mickiewicz University in Poland with a degree in cultural studies. In New York, she rediscovered her ability to crochet and since then she has started her crocheted journey/madness.
Resume sniffers may be pleased to know Olek's work has been presented in galleries from Brooklyn to Istanbul to Venice and Brazil, featured in "The New York Times", "Fiberarts Magazine", "The Village Voice", and "Washington Post" and drags a tail of dance performance sets and costumes too numerous to mention.
Olek received the Ruth Mellon Award for Sculpture, was selected for 2005 residency program at Sculpture Space, 2009 residency in Instituto Sacatar in Brazil, and is a winner of apex art gallery commercial competition. Olek was an artist in an independent collective exhibition, "Waterways," during the 49th Venice Biennale. She was also a featured artist in "Two Continents Beyond," at the 9th International Istanbul Biennale.
Olek herself however can be found in her Greenpoint studio with a bottle of spiced Polish vodka and a hand rolled cigarette aggressively re-weaving the world as she sees.
13th annual D.U.M.B.O. Art Under the Bridge Festival® (Sept 25 to Sept 27, 2009)
www.dumboartfestival.org/press_release.html
The three-day multi-site neighborhood-wide event is a one-of-a-kind art happening: where serendipity meets the haphazard and where the unpredictable, spontaneous and downright weird thrive. The now teenage D.U.M.B.O. Art Under the Bridge Festival® presents touchable, accessible, and interactive art, on a scale that makes it the nation's largest urban forum for experimental art.
Art Under the Bridge is an opportunity for young artists to use any medium imaginable to create temporary projects on-the-spot everywhere and anywhere, completely transforming the Dumbo section of Brooklyn, New York, into a vibrant platform for self-expression. In addition to the 80+ projects throughout the historical post-industrial waterfront span, visitors can tour local artists' studios or check out the indoor video_dumbo, a non-stop program of cutting-edge video art from New York City and around the world.
The Dumbo Arts Center (DAC) has been the exclusive producer of the D.U.M.B.O Art Under the Bridge Festival® since 1997. DAC is a big impact, small non-profit, that in addition to its year-round gallery exhibitions, is committed to preserving Dumbo as a site in New York City where emerging visual artists can experiment in the public domain, while having unprecedented freedom and access to normally off-limit locations.
Related SML
+ SML Flickr Collections: Events
+ SML Flickr Sets: Dumbo Arts Center: Art Under the Bridge Festival 2009
A monumental, aerial sculpture is suspended over Boston’s Rose Kennedy Greenway from May through October 2015 as the signature contemporary art installation in the Greenway Conservancy’s Public Art Program.
The sculpture for Boston spans the void where an elevated highway once split downtown from its waterfront. Knitting together the urban fabric, it soars 600 feet through the air above street traffic and pedestrian park.
The form of “As If It Were Already Here” echoes the history of its location. The three voids recall the “Tri-Mountain” which was razed in the 18th-century to create land from the harbor. The colored banding is a nod to the six traffic lanes that once overwhelmed the neighborhood, before the Big Dig buried them and enabled the space to be reclaimed for urban pedestrian life.
The sculpture is made by hand-splicing rope and knotting twine into an interconnected mesh of more than a half-million nodes. When any one of its elements moves, every other element is affected. Monumental in scale and strength yet delicate as lace, it fluidly responds to ever-changing wind and weather. Its fibers are 15 times stronger than steel yet incredibly lightweight, making the sculpture able to lace directly into three skyscrapers as a soft counterpoint to hard-edged architecture. It is a physical manifestation of interconnectedness and strength through resiliency.
In daylight the porous form blends with sky when looking up, and casts shadow-drawings onto the ground below. At night it becomes an illuminated beacon. The artwork incorporates dynamic light elements which reflect the changing effects of wind. Sensors around the site register fiber movement and tension and this data directs the color of light projected onto the sculpture’s surface.
“Here in Boston, I’m excited to visually knit together the fabric of the city with art,” said Echelman. “The creation of the Greenway was a seminal event in the unfolding of our city, so I’m delighted and humbled to be a part of its transformation into a vibrant cultural destination.”
The work invites you to linger, whether seen amidst the skyline from afar, or lying down on the grassy knoll beneath. It embraces Boston as a city on foot, where past and present are interwoven, and takes our gaze skyward to feel the vibrant pulse of now. It invites you to pause, and contemplate a physical manifestation of interconnectedness – soft with hard, earth with sky, things we control with the forces beyond us.
By the Numbers:
– The sculpture includes over 100 miles of twine
– Longest span is 600 ft
- Highest point of attachment is 365 ft
– There are over half a million knots (~542,500)
– The sculpture weighs approximately 1 ton
– The sculpture can exert over 100 tons of force
– Projected plan area of the sculpture is 20,250 sq ft, or almost half an acre
The installation consists of concrete spheres connected to each other with heavy ropes. Sound can be heard from three of the balls, carefully edited and layered, with each sphere representing a different imaginary character. These soundtracks are part narrative and part song, and shift between stream of consciousness and profound statements in English, French and Nigerian Pidgin, an English-based Creole language widely spoken across Nigeria. In a dialogue improvised by the artist, the characters reflect on life’s difficulties, asking ‘Wetin you go do?’, a colloquial term in Nigerian Pidgin meaning ‘What are you going to do?’
The spheres are arranged in small groupings that mimic the way people gather in a crowd. The ropes connecting the spheres suggest networks within society. As such, the work can be read as a metaphor for the interconnectedness of life. With some of the concrete balls weighing more than 600 kilograms the work might also signal the impossibility of moving forward alone.
SMC Pentax DA 18-55mm f3.5-5.6 AL WR
This captivating image showcases a close-up of a lush, green leaf, viewed from underneath. The composition is dominated by the intricate network of veins on the leaf, which serve as leading lines, guiding the viewer's eye towards the center. The use of the rule of thirds is evident, as the leaf's edges are positioned along the top and bottom thirds, creating a balanced and dynamic visual structure.
The vibrant green color of the leaf is the focal point, with its rich, textured surface providing a sense of depth and dimensionality. The lighting is natural and soft, casting gentle shadows that accentuate the leaf's veins and create a sense of three-dimensionality. The interplay of light and shadow adds a sense of realism and authenticity to the image.
The style of this image can be associated with the naturalistic and realistic approaches of botanical photography, which aims to capture the intricate details and beauty of plants and flowers. The image's composition and use of light and shadow are reminiscent of the works of botanical photographers like Ernst Haas or Ernst Haas-inspired contemporary photographers.
Symbolically, the image may represent growth, renewal, and the beauty of nature. The leaf's veins can be seen as a metaphor for life's complexities and interconnectedness. The image's subjective aesthetic quality is very high, as it successfully captures the intricate beauty of the leaf and conveys a sense of wonder and awe.
Overall, this image is a masterful example of botanical photography, showcasing the artist's skill in composition, lighting, and the use of color to create a visually striking and symbolically rich image.
Poverty is the state for the majority of the world’s people and nations. Why is this? Is it enough to blame poor people for their own predicament? Have they been lazy, made poor decisions, and been solely responsible for their plight? What about their governments? Have they pursued policies that actually harm successful development? Such causes of poverty and inequality are no doubt real. But deeper and more global causes of poverty are often less discussed.
Behind the increasing interconnectedness promised by globalization are global decisions, policies, and practices. These are typically influenced, driven, or formulated by the rich and powerful. These can be leaders of rich countries or other global actors such as multinational corporations, institutions, and influential people.
In the face of such enormous external influence, the governments of poor nations and their people are often powerless. As a result, in the global context, a few get wealthy while the majority struggle.
Title: Tiny Bubbles
Size: 6" x 9"
Medium: Ink on Paper
Artist: Thaneeya McArdle
© Thaneeya McArdle - Please do not use this image without permission.
The theme of this highly charged drawing is the mythic concept of existence and consciousness. An array of variously-sized bubbles floats across a black starry cosmos. Inside the bubbles are elaborately-detailed psychedelic eyes, each one bursting with a special uniqueness. The composition of this piece represents the interconnectedness of life amidst our apparent individualities. This drawing is incredibly detailed; you can see close-ups in my photostream. My abstract artwork is very process-oriented and carries a spiritual meaning related to the mystery of existence and a reverence for the unfolding process of life. The designs in this drawing arose spontaneously in a stream-of-consciousness manner. While working on drawings that are this detailed, I become so immersed in the work that drawing the images becomes a meditative process through which I strive to achieve balance amidst chaos (similar to the concept of mushin). The colors and designs arise spontaneously and reflect my interest in tribal and aboriginal art, specifically in the act of storytelling through nonrepresentational means. My abstract art is also heavily inspired by my world travels, particularly my visits to remote tribal villages in the Kutch region of India, as well as my visits to temples and roadside shrines in Sri Lanka, India, and Nepal.
You can see a few close-ups, including a side view shot, in my photostream.
Language not only communicates, it defines culture, nature, history, humanity, and ancestry. The indigenous languages of the Arctic have been formed and shaped in close contact with their environment. They are a valuable source of information and a wealth of knowledge on human interactions with nature is encoded in these languages. If a language is lost, a world is lost. This deep knowledge and interconnectedness is expressed in Arctic song, subsistence practices, and other cultural expressions but especially in place names across the Arctic. Place names of the indigenous peoples reflect subsistence practices, stories, dwelling sites, spawning sites, migratory routes of animals, and links to the sacred realms of the indigenous peoples of the north. From surveys it was possible to consider changes in populations for 47 languages. Of these, 36 had populations of fewer than 10,000, and 18 had population levels of 1,000 or less. Nineteen populations experienced decreases in size ranging from 5–50%, the majority of these being located in the Russian Federation. This implies either a decline in indigenous populations or alternatively a change in the methods used for census survey. The indigenous population which experienced the greatest increase in net population were the Inuit.
For any form of publication, please include the link to this page:
This photo has been graciously provided to be used in the GRID-Arendal resources library by: Hugo Ahlenius, GRID-Arendal & CAFF
SYNCHRONICITY Original Abstract Knife Drip Painting 36 by 24 Renée
Title: Synchronicity
"Synchronicity can be defined as a non-causal but meaningful relationship between events or states of mind within the human psyche and events in the outside world. More simply, we could call it the experiences of "meaningful coincidence". We have all had experiences that we intuitively recognize as meaningful, though we would be hard pressed to explain them in rational terms. In fact, these "meaningful coincidences" are not coincidences at all but spontaneous realizations of the underlying interconnectedness of all things within the Universe." Laurence Boldt - Tao of Abundance
As Heraclitus put it, "The unseen design of things is more harmonious than the seen."
Style: Expressionist,Abstract
Medium: Acrylics on hand stretched artist grade canvas, edges wrapped to back and painted.
Dimensions: 36"x24"
This is an original abstract painting painted with artist painting knifes and hundreds of paint drips, no brushes were used in the creation of this textured and kinetic painting direct from Renée~Fauve Studio
See also Agata Olek talks about her 100% Acrylic Art Guards (Flickr 720p HD video)
Agata Olek (Flickr)
100% Acrylic Art Guards
"I think crochet, the way I create it, is a metaphor for the complexity and interconnectedness of our body and its systems and psychology. The connections are stronger as one fabric as opposed to separate strands, but, if you cut one, the whole thing will fall apart.
Relationships are complex and greatly vary situation to situation. They are developmental journeys of growth, and transformation. Time passes, great distances are surpassed and the fabric which individuals are composed of compiles and unravels simultaneously."
Agata Olek Biography. The SPLAT! of colors hits you in the face, often clashing so ostentatiously that it instantly tunes you into the presence of severely cheeky humor. A moment later the fatigue of labor creeps into your fingers as a coal miner's work ethic becomes apparent. Hundreds of miles of crocheted, weaved, and often recycled materials are the fabric from which the wild and occasionally wearable structures of her fantasylands are born.
Olek was born Agata Oleksiak in Poland and graduated from Adam Mickiewicz University in Poland with a degree in cultural studies. In New York, she rediscovered her ability to crochet and since then she has started her crocheted journey/madness.
Resume sniffers may be pleased to know Olek's work has been presented in galleries from Brooklyn to Istanbul to Venice and Brazil, featured in "The New York Times", "Fiberarts Magazine", "The Village Voice", and "Washington Post" and drags a tail of dance performance sets and costumes too numerous to mention.
Olek received the Ruth Mellon Award for Sculpture, was selected for 2005 residency program at Sculpture Space, 2009 residency in Instituto Sacatar in Brazil, and is a winner of apex art gallery commercial competition. Olek was an artist in an independent collective exhibition, "Waterways," during the 49th Venice Biennale. She was also a featured artist in "Two Continents Beyond," at the 9th International Istanbul Biennale.
Olek herself however can be found in her Greenpoint studio with a bottle of spiced Polish vodka and a hand rolled cigarette aggressively re-weaving the world as she sees.
13th annual D.U.M.B.O. Art Under the Bridge Festival® (Sept 25 to Sept 27, 2009)
www.dumboartfestival.org/press_release.html
The three-day multi-site neighborhood-wide event is a one-of-a-kind art happening: where serendipity meets the haphazard and where the unpredictable, spontaneous and downright weird thrive. The now teenage D.U.M.B.O. Art Under the Bridge Festival® presents touchable, accessible, and interactive art, on a scale that makes it the nation's largest urban forum for experimental art.
Art Under the Bridge is an opportunity for young artists to use any medium imaginable to create temporary projects on-the-spot everywhere and anywhere, completely transforming the Dumbo section of Brooklyn, New York, into a vibrant platform for self-expression. In addition to the 80+ projects throughout the historical post-industrial waterfront span, visitors can tour local artists' studios or check out the indoor video_dumbo, a non-stop program of cutting-edge video art from New York City and around the world.
The Dumbo Arts Center (DAC) has been the exclusive producer of the D.U.M.B.O Art Under the Bridge Festival® since 1997. DAC is a big impact, small non-profit, that in addition to its year-round gallery exhibitions, is committed to preserving Dumbo as a site in New York City where emerging visual artists can experiment in the public domain, while having unprecedented freedom and access to normally off-limit locations.
Related SML
+ SML Flickr Collections: Events
+ SML Flickr Sets: Dumbo Arts Center: Art Under the Bridge Festival 2009
See also Agata Olek talks about her 100% Acrylic Art Guards (Flickr 720p HD video)
Agata Olek (Flickr)
100% Acrylic Art Guards
"I think crochet, the way I create it, is a metaphor for the complexity and interconnectedness of our body and its systems and psychology. The connections are stronger as one fabric as opposed to separate strands, but, if you cut one, the whole thing will fall apart.
Relationships are complex and greatly vary situation to situation. They are developmental journeys of growth, and transformation. Time passes, great distances are surpassed and the fabric which individuals are composed of compiles and unravels simultaneously."
Agata Olek Biography. The SPLAT! of colors hits you in the face, often clashing so ostentatiously that it instantly tunes you into the presence of severely cheeky humor. A moment later the fatigue of labor creeps into your fingers as a coal miner's work ethic becomes apparent. Hundreds of miles of crocheted, weaved, and often recycled materials are the fabric from which the wild and occasionally wearable structures of her fantasylands are born.
Olek was born Agata Oleksiak in Poland and graduated from Adam Mickiewicz University in Poland with a degree in cultural studies. In New York, she rediscovered her ability to crochet and since then she has started her crocheted journey/madness.
Resume sniffers may be pleased to know Olek's work has been presented in galleries from Brooklyn to Istanbul to Venice and Brazil, featured in "The New York Times", "Fiberarts Magazine", "The Village Voice", and "Washington Post" and drags a tail of dance performance sets and costumes too numerous to mention.
Olek received the Ruth Mellon Award for Sculpture, was selected for 2005 residency program at Sculpture Space, 2009 residency in Instituto Sacatar in Brazil, and is a winner of apex art gallery commercial competition. Olek was an artist in an independent collective exhibition, "Waterways," during the 49th Venice Biennale. She was also a featured artist in "Two Continents Beyond," at the 9th International Istanbul Biennale.
Olek herself however can be found in her Greenpoint studio with a bottle of spiced Polish vodka and a hand rolled cigarette aggressively re-weaving the world as she sees.
13th annual D.U.M.B.O. Art Under the Bridge Festival® (Sept 25 to Sept 27, 2009)
www.dumboartfestival.org/press_release.html
The three-day multi-site neighborhood-wide event is a one-of-a-kind art happening: where serendipity meets the haphazard and where the unpredictable, spontaneous and downright weird thrive. The now teenage D.U.M.B.O. Art Under the Bridge Festival® presents touchable, accessible, and interactive art, on a scale that makes it the nation's largest urban forum for experimental art.
Art Under the Bridge is an opportunity for young artists to use any medium imaginable to create temporary projects on-the-spot everywhere and anywhere, completely transforming the Dumbo section of Brooklyn, New York, into a vibrant platform for self-expression. In addition to the 80+ projects throughout the historical post-industrial waterfront span, visitors can tour local artists' studios or check out the indoor video_dumbo, a non-stop program of cutting-edge video art from New York City and around the world.
The Dumbo Arts Center (DAC) has been the exclusive producer of the D.U.M.B.O Art Under the Bridge Festival® since 1997. DAC is a big impact, small non-profit, that in addition to its year-round gallery exhibitions, is committed to preserving Dumbo as a site in New York City where emerging visual artists can experiment in the public domain, while having unprecedented freedom and access to normally off-limit locations.
Related SML
+ SML Flickr Collections: Events
+ SML Flickr Sets: Dumbo Arts Center: Art Under the Bridge Festival 2009
(for further information please go to the end of page and by clicking on the link you will get them!)
University of Music and Performing Arts Vienna
Motto tradition and innovation
Founded in 1817
State sponsorship
Location Vienna, Austria
Rector Werner Hasitschka
About 3,000 students
Employees about 850 of which about 140 professors
www.mdw.ac.at site
The University of Music and Performing Arts 2007
Columned hall to staircase, Kaiserstein
Pillar staircase around open shaft, Kaiserstein
Institute building and former main building, including the Academy Theater, Lothringerstraße 18
The University of Music and Performing Arts Vienna (mdw) is an Austrian university located in third District of Vienna highway (Landstraße), Anton-von-Webern-Platz 1. It claims to be the greatest art university in Austria and greatest university of music worldwide. Approximately 3,000 students are supported by more than 850 teachers. It is since 2002 structured into 24 institutions offering the artistic, artistic-scientific and purely scientific doctrine. Since 2002 Werner Hasitschka is rector.
History
Already 1808 was discussed on the establishment of a conservatory of Music according to Parisian model (Conservatoire de Paris). The 1812 founded Society of Friends of Music in Vienna this venture had set as it main task, so that already in 1817 a singing school could be launched, which laid the headstone for such an institution. Thus the year 1817 is considered the official founding year of the mdw. In 1819 with the Engagierung (engagement) of violin professor Joseph Böhm instrumental lessons have been started.
With short interruptions during the 19th Century the curriculum was expanded massively, so that in the 1890s more than 1,000 students could be counted. In 1909, this private institution was nationalized on resolution of the emperor and was now kk Academy of Music and Dramatic Art.
With the nationalization it also received an own house: in collaboration with the Vienna Konzerthaus Society from 1912 in Liszstraße a building together with a sample stage (today Academy Theater) was built, into which already in January 1914 could be moved. After World War I, the institution was called State Academy (1919). In 1928, the Academy has been extended to a drama seminar (Reinhardt-Seminar) and a music educational seminar. Between 1938 and 1945 it was continued as a Reichshochschule (Academy of the German Reich) by exclusion of Jewish teachers and students.
After the war, in 1946 the institution again became an art school, from 1970 to 1998 it was called University of Music and Performing Arts, since 1998 it is a university.
In 1952 Walter Kolm-Veltée established special training for film design. In 1960, a film class, led by Hans Winge, was added. In 1963, the two courses were combined into the newly founded "Film and Television Department". There were other additional courses, and since 1998, the department is also known as the Vienna Film Academy.
Building
In addition to its headquarters, the mdw-campus at Anton-von-Webern-Platz in the third district, are other branches in 3rd District in Ungargasse 14, am Rennweg 8, in the Metternichgasse 8 and 12 as well as in the Lothringerstraße 18. In the first district of Vienna teaching locations are situated at Karlsplatz 1 and 2, at the Schubertring 14, at the corner of John Street/Seilerstätte and in the Singerstraße 26. Furthermore, in the 4th District in Rienößlgasse 12, in 13th district in the Schoenbrunn Palace Theater as well as at the Palais Cumberland in the Penzingerstrasse.
Campus
The monumental functional purpose building in the sober, classicist forms of Hofbauamtes located at the former Wiener Neustadt channel (rapid rail line), is located at the Anton-von-Webern-Platz 1. 1776 there on the suggestion of Emperor Joseph II. an animal hospital was built in the former Jesuit dairy farm. 1821-1823 followed a new building by Johann Nepomuk Amann, being planned a sprawling complex. The main building with a long façade extends to the left Bahngasse, there are numerous additions. A major contract received the Kaisersteinbrucher master stonemasons, the spacious entrance hall with Tuscan columns, pilasters and mullioned pillars, the spacios pillar staircase around open shaft, all made of light Kaiserstein with typical blue translucent embeddings - a special room for friends of the emperor stone (Kaiserstein). By 1996, the building was the seat of the University of Veterinary Medicine and its predecessor institutions.
In 1996 the building was chosen as the new seat of the University, and completely renovated by architect Reinhardt Gallister. The historic structure was preserved, elements such as glass, wood and stone are the defining stylistic devices and modern technology and equipment was connected with good room acoustics. Studios, classrooms and halls can be rented externally, too.
Disciplines of study
Composition and Music Theory
Conducting
Sound engineer
Instrumental study
Church Music
Educational Studies
Singing and opera directing
Performing Arts
Film and Television
Doctoral Studies
Summer Campus
The isa - International Summer Academy is the musical summer campus of the University of Music and Performing Arts Vienna. More than 200 students from over 40 nations are taking part in two weeks of master classes of the highest calibre in the Semmering region and in Vienna. The summer campus was founded in 1991 as an initiative of Michael Frischenschlager. The isa arose from the euphoria over the fall of the Iron Curtain with the aim, exceptionally talented young students, mainly from the Central and Eastern European countries (CEE countries), allow musical encounters and build international relationships. Since 2005 Johannes Meissl is artistic director of the isa.
Institutions
Institute for Composition and Electro-Acoustics
Institute for Music Conducting
Institute for Analysis, Theory and History of Music
Institute for Keyboard Instruments (podium/concert)
Institute for Bowed and other String Instruments (podium/concert)
Leonard Bernstein Institute for Wind and Percussion instruments
Joseph Haydn Institute for Chamber Music and Special Ensembles
Institute for Organ, Organ Research and Church Music
Institute for Singing and Music Theater
Institute for Drama and Acting Direction (Max Reinhardt Seminar)
Institute for Film and Television (Film Academy Vienna)
Institute for Music Education
Institute for Music and Movement Education and Music Therapy
Institute of Musical Style Research
Institute of Popular Music
Institute Ludwig van Beethoven (keyboard instruments in music pedagogy)
Hellmesberger - Institute (string & other bowed instruments in Music Education)
Institute Franz Schubert (wind and percussion instruments in Music Pedagogy)
Institute Antonio Salieri (singing in Music Pedagogy)
Institute Anton Bruckner (music theory, ear training, ensemble direction)
Institute for Folk Music Research and Ethnomusicology
Institute for Viennese Sound Style (Musical Acoustics)
Institute for Music Sociology
Institute of Culture Management and Cultural Studies (IKM)
Science
Apart from artistic training form the scientific institutions (or full professors and university lecturers with great teaching qualification - venia docendi) a significant part of the university's work. A special feature of the MDW is the high interconnectedness of science and art. The right to award doctorates is the foundation of a university, and is realized at the MDW in the PhD graduate program. Departments of scientific work in this connection are:
Dramaturgy
Film Studies
Gender Studies
History and Theory of Popular Music
Gregorian chant and liturgy
Historical Musicology (including analysis, music theory and harmonic research)
Stylistics and performance practice
Cultural Business Operations
Musical Acoustics
Music Education
Sociology of Music
Music Theory
Music Therapy
Systematic musicology within interdisciplinary approaches
Folk Music Research, Ethnomusicology
Known graduates
Claudio Abbado
Barbara Albert
Peter Alexander
Christian Altenburger
Maria Andergast
Walter Samuel Bartussek
Johanna Beisteiner
Erwin Belakowitsch
Achim Benning
Zsófia Boros
Thomas Brezinka
Florian Brüning
Rudolf Buchbinder
Friedrich Cerha
Gabriel Chmura
Mimi Coertse
Luke David
Yoram David
Jacques Delacôte, French conductor
Jörg Demus
Helmut German
Johanna Doderer
Iván Eröd
Karlheinz Essl
Matthias Fletzberger
Sabrina Frey
Beat Furrer
Rudolf Gamsjäger
Raoul Gehringer
Nicolas Geremus
Wolfgang Glück
Wolfgang Glüxam
Eugen Gmeiner
Walter Goldschmidt
Stefan Gottfried
Friedrich Gulda
Robert Gulya
Ingomar Auer
Christoph Haas (born 1949), Swiss conductor
Georg Friedrich Haas
Hans Hammerschmid
Gottfried Hemetsberger
John Hiemetsberger
Robert Holl
Mariss Jansons
Leo Jaritz
Mariama Djiwa Jenie, concert pianist and dancer
Thomas Jöbstl
Thomas Kakuska
Bijan Khadem-Missagh, violin
Angelika Kirschschlager
Hermann Killmeyer
Patricia Kopatchinskaya
Leon Koudelak
Bojidara Kouzmanova
Tina Kordić
Klaus Kuchling
Rainer Küchl
Gabriele Lechner
Wolf Lotter
Gustav Mahler
Edith Mathis
Zubin Mehta
Tobias Moretti
Tomislav Mužek
Helmut Neumann
Josef Niederhammer
Ernst Ottensamer
Erwin Ortner
Rudolf Pacik
Harry Pepl
Günter Pichler
Josephine Pilars de Pilar
Peter Planyavsky
Stefanie Alexandra Prenn
Armando Puklavec
Carole Dawn Reinhart
Gerald Reischl
Wolfgang Reisinger
Erhard Riedlsperger
Jhibaro Rodriguez
Hilde Rössel-Maidan
Michael Radanovics
Sophie Rois
Gerhard Ruhm
Kurt Rydl
Clemens Salesny
Heinz Sandauer
Klaus-Peter Sattler
Wolfgang Sauseng
Nicholas Schapfl
Agnes Scheibelreiter
Heinrich Schiff
Michael Schnitzler
Peter Schuhmayer
Christian W. Schulz
Wolfgang Schulz
Ulrich Seidl
Fritz Schreiber
Kurt Schwertsik
Ulf-Diether Soyka
Christian Spatzek
Arben Spahiu
Götz Spielmann
Othmar Steinbauer
Hermann Sulzberger (b. 1957), Austrian composer
Roman Summereder
Hans Swarovsky
Jenő Takács
Wolfgang Tomböck
Karolos Trikolidis, Greek-Austrian conductor
Mitsuko Uchida
Timothy Vernon (b. 1948), Canadian conductor
Eva Vicens harpsichordist from Uruguay, lives in Spain
Annette Volkamer
Johanna Wokalek
Adolf Wallnöfer
Gregor Widholm
Bruno Weil
Hermann Wlach
Paul Zauner
Herbert Zipper
de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Universit%C3%A4t_f%C3%BCr_Musik_und...
“We must recognize that the suffering of one person or one nation is the suffering of humanity. That the happiness of one person or nation is the happiness of humanity.”
~ Dalai Lama
The discussion will address a key question at the heart of the international economic and political landscape: have the benefits of globalization been oversold? Slow global growth and increasing inequality, civil conflict and refugee flows, and the rise of political figures espousing nationalist and protectionist positions pose difficult challenges to global interconnectedness. Panelists will offer fresh perspectives on these emerging issues.
The transient beauty of the coast is intricately intertwined with the captivating patterns that emerge in the sand, crafted by the relentless forces of wind and wave. These natural sculptors shape the shoreline, leaving behind ephemeral masterpieces.
As the tides ebb and flow, they orchestrate a delicate dance with the sand. With each advancing wave, the water gently caresses the shore, carrying particles of sand along its journey. As the wave recedes, it relinquishes its cargo, depositing the grains in a meticulous arrangement. This cyclical process, repeated countless times, creates intricate patterns that stretch along the coastline.
The patterns left behind by the retreating tide mimic the ebb and flow of life itself. Swirling ripples, reminiscent of a miniature desert landscape, emerge as the water recedes, their graceful curves and undulating lines transforming the beach into a living work of art. The patterns are at once orderly and chaotic, with intricate geometrical formations intermingling with whimsical curves and asymmetrical shapes.
The wind, a silent artist in its own right, adds its touch to the sculpting process. As it sweeps across the coast, it whispers secrets to the sand, coaxing it to dance in its invisible embrace. The wind's gentle touch lifts fine particles from the beach, carrying them aloft in an intricate ballet. It sculpts the sand into delicate ripples, resembling the soft undulations of fabric.
The interplay between the wind and the tide results in an ever-changing landscape. The patterns shift and evolve, shaped by the combined forces of these elemental sculptors. Ripples become miniature mountains, rising and falling in a transient topography that mirrors the larger contours of the surrounding coast. Each gust of wind and every advancing or receding wave leaves its mark, etching new patterns and erasing old ones, in an eternal cycle of creation and destruction.
These ephemeral patterns serve as a reminder of the impermanence of existence and the transient nature of beauty, as each passing moment alters the landscape, erasing what once was and creating something new. The sands become a canvas for the symphony of time, a tangible reflection of the ever-changing nature of our lives.
The beauty of these fleeting patterns lies not only in their visual allure but also in the emotions they evoke. They inspire a sense of wonder and awe, inviting us to pause and appreciate the intricate designs that nature creates with such effortless grace. The patterns speak of the interconnectedness of all things, the harmonious interplay between the elements, and the constant flux that defines our existence.
In these patterns of nature, we find a profound lesson: that life, like the shifting sands, is ever-changing, and that true beauty lies not in permanence but in the appreciation of the fleeting moments that grace our journey.
Available:
www.selekkt.com/f/manufacturer/1061
Paper Color: White - Matt
Ink Color: Black, Salmon Pink & Neon Orange
Edition: 25
Size: A3
Weight: 250g/m2
Artwork by Karl Addison
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As Karl Addison’s art and vision evolves—from blank slate, to paper, to mural, to installation, to unoccupied public space—our understanding and comprehension of the world around us begins to unfold as well. We may not notice his input, infiltrating our subconscious—our everyday—but it’s there. A beautiful woman’s face composed of negative space watching peacefully over a cemetery in Wedding, a fragile old Jewish woman towering over a decommissioned factory in Berlin, an urban zoo of imagined creatures deposited all over the globe, an abandoned room filled with 4,500 fat babies…Addison’s art and commentary on history and culture are everywhere, becoming part of the collective unconscious.
Through his travels to Italy, Israel, Japan, throughout the US, and his current residence in Berlin, Addison’s overarching theme of people and the spaces they occupy and interact with has taken shape. By focusing on pieces, which work to become part of public space rather than interrupt it, his intent to create regenerative art through murals and other mediums is being actualized. He has achieved this both independently and collaboratively with other contemporary artists and painters, most notably James Boullough. Addison’s recent and current collaborative projects also highlight his more narrowed focus of interconnectedness, “connecting humanity around the world with different cultures from different places,” he wants us to value tiny lines, details, to appreciate a world view and hopefully, start extolling minute details of our own.
It takes an extraordinary person, one with talent, courage, and patience, to express himself the way Addison does. To project his voice and vision for the world to see—to rip it out of a sketch book or a blank page in his mind—and produce it. To take it beyond the two-dimensional and spray paint, wheat paste, bomb, the side of a building with an illimitable piece of art. To exhibit in public space—on walls, on clothing, in art galleries—what a beautiful fucking thing. Art—“a new mode of obtaining power of mind over mind” leaving the watching to the watched.
- written by jennifer weitman
This image displays the magnitude of links from one porn site to others. The WOT porn crawler was created to find the relationships and interconnectedness between them all.
An artistic metal sculpture in the shape of a globe, located at the Live Earth Journey: Totality of Life: Expo 2025 Osaka Kansai Pavilion. The sculpture features detailed cut-outs depicting the interconnectedness of life, including a woman, a whale, a bird, and various plants.
Canon EOS 7D | Canon 35mm f/1.4 | Natural Light
It's funny the way things are interconnected.
For example, this photo is connected to the The Jones Family post. The Jones are a family of artists. When I spoke with them, they said they would have a booth at the upcoming Dally in the Alley open-air art festival.
I didn't see the Jones family, but looking for them put me into contact with Allison, the young woman pictured above.
Allison is a musician and a member of one of the bands that played at the Dally. We talked about the interconnectedness of the independent Detroit music scene. Talking to Allison and later watching The Juliets perform made me realize that there is some great music being made in Detroit. In fact, in the course of that conversation I even learned that one of my favorite songs was done by another Detroit band that Allison was connected to.
I'm a huge fan of the FX series Rescue Me, and the Detroit-based Von Bondies are the band behind the show's awesome theme song "C'mon C'mon". Rescue Me is set in Brooklyn. That's probably why I imagined the band that did the theme song was also from Brooklyn. Nope. It was a Detroit connect all the way.
Which all this interconnectedness, it occurred to me to ask Allison if she knew the person in one of my early and most favorite photos from TPOD, Student | Rocker. I pulled the photo up on my iPod, showed it to Allison and she immediately responded,
"Yea, that's Molly."
There is a definite interconnectedness in Detroit. I've long said that if you stand in any one place in the city for more than a hour, you'll happen across everyone you have ever known. There especially seems to be an increased level of connectivity amongst the artistic crowd. And it also seems that the artistic class is at the vanguard of this city's resurgence.
That artistic-class resurgence was recently profiled in a documentary sponsored by Palladium Boots. The documentary, hosted by Johnny Knoxville of all people, details how entrepreneurial and artistically-minded people are coming to Detroit to execute their vision (Allison moved to Detroit's Cass Corridor from the outlying, lake-dotted, almost rural suburb of Waterford, Michigan).
I posted the video to my page on Facebook and got some peculiar responses. One of my black, expatriate Detroiter friends was somewhat disturbed by what she characterized as an invasion of white outsiders and the possible cultural, financial and physical dislocation that results from people with resources moving into low-income communities.
I found a couple of points of contention with her view. First, I don't have any problems with "outsiders". If you come to Detroit and are contributing to it's vitality, you are a Detroiter. Period.
Second, if well-to-do black people don't like well-to-do white people gentrifying Detroit, move your well-to-do black ass to the city.
My good friend Tracy made an observation about gentrification that I thought was poignant. She said, "they are mad at the white people when they leave and mad when they come back."
That said, there's nothing that says gentrification has to be undertaken exclusively by white people. But some level of gentrification by some kind of people is needed, and that gentrification is the unavoidable byproduct of revitalization. Detroit can't just be full of poor people forever.
Plus, not all of the people moving here are moving here with bags of cash. Some of them are people of modest resources and lofty ambition. Also, not everyone here with lofty ambitions is from outside of the city.
Regarding those outsiders who are moving to the city, I would hope that people with historical roots in the city would welcome anyone who comes here and has something to contribute. Because ultimately, everyone in this city has a fate that is interconnected.
[View the ongoing project and meet more of: The People of Detroit ]