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Whose leaflets progressively collapse, sometimes throughout the whole plant, once one leaflet is touched.
The 80th, 20 days before the 100th that's incredible. I'm a little nervous with the beginning of my intership monday. My luck : spring and summer days are longs, when I'll finish my work day I could enjoy the sun again. But when I saw around the company and my new ride to go over there... no inspiration, not really beautiful. *fear*
I have to do it.
Have a nice week-end everybody !
//
La 80ème, 20 jours avant la 100ème c'est incroyable. Je suis un petit peu nerveuse avec le début de mon stage lundi. Ma chance : les journées printanières et d'été sont longues, quand je fini ma journée de travail je pourrai encore profiter du soleil. Mais quand j'ai vu les alentours de l'entreprise et mon nouveau trajet pour aller là-bas... aucune inspiration, pas vraiment beau... *stress*
Je dois le faire.
Bon week-end à tous !
U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service’s (APHIS) personnel containers full of Mediterranean Fruitflies at the Sarasota Sterile Insect Rearing Facility before transferring to the airport nearby, April 17, 2019, in Sarasota, Fla.
Plant Protection and Quarantine releases more than 100,000,000 sterile adult Medflies per week over the highest-risk urban areas of the state (approximately 633 square miles) in Hillsborough, Miami-Dade, Palm Beach and Broward Counties. The target release rate is 125,000 flies/square mile/week. One-hundred million irradiated pupae are received weekly from Guatemala, eclosed at the Sterile Insect Release Facility (SIRF), and released by airplane from an altitude of 1600-2000 feet. These pupae are temperature-sensitive lethal (tsl) strain, rendering the flies released 99.8% male.
New Sterile Insect Release Facility in Sarasota, FL: This facility supports the Medfly Sterile Insect Technique (SIT) Preventive Release Program (PRP), and is the work unit for 24 personnel. The Sarasota PRP was initiated in 2002 in an old ice cream factory, but due to the need to replace the existing aging SIRF, solicitations for a new facility (~30,000 square feet) began in spring 2015 and a lease was awarded in fall 2015 for a new facility located north of the Sarasota-Bradenton International Airport. Ground-breaking for this facility took place in November 2016 and USDA accepted the building on July 23, 2018. This is the first time a facility like this has been built in the continental U.S. The objective is to facilitate and improve efficiency and effectiveness of the program for years to come.
USDA Photo by Preston Keres
The Place Nightmares Are Made Of
Sometimes life seems similar to a paint bucket minus the lid, being so sensitive to any movement around it, and though I may not have completely learned how to take full control of my own, sometimes having a couple of bumps and spills, I know that I am still doing something right, I mean, I must be. See, every time I look at where I left off, all I can say is "right on," because I write off the bad right off the bat. I keep the good memories for bad moments, and sometimes even these bad moments can create good memories of their own. See, life is a hectic and jumbled mess of shit and shining silver. Becoming sad in moments is great though, it shows you're still very much alive and capable of human emotion and compassion, not only that, but more often than not, there is something to be learned from it. Kind of like when you leave your car under the wrong tree in summer, while birds nest above for hours.
The sad sight of these post-apocalyptic scenes is, at times not far off from such similar a thought. I find beauty in these sad and desolate locations, while a lot of people may find them rather unsightly, I look past the cracking faces to see beauty within them. We must find a certain charm within this great sadness to truly be able to find full allure and happiness through the entire world surrounding us. The forgotten are a unique collection, each one being different than the last, thus how we are as people. Everything might look devastatingly broken before your eyes, but picture the good times, wonderful memories and history. Remember that not everything around you is broken like this, and if you learn to find beauty in this destruction, it will be so much easier to find beauty and happiness outside of it.
People previously contained within these particular walls had not been given the same gift that you and I have; the gift of free will to roam our Earth. As we enter a small town nearly 2 hours from Atlanta, we find ourselves amidst silent destruction, sat centered atop a hill within a desolate Southern town. The sweltering heat made it a sweaty chore climbing the hill headed up to the sanitarium, but at least this time we had some decently fresh water accompanying us in our backpacks. The fact that such a large structure had been left behind to collapse under the Georgia heat was alone an odd sight, but yet stranger, how incredibly quiet the town surrounding it sat. The only sounds filling the air were the slow dragging of our feet along the dusty ground of cracking sidewalks and the constant buzz of cicadas echoing from an overgrown path leading directly to the woods, where a road had previously sat.
Doors fitted with rotating and locking food trays lined multiple hallways. These same doors had previously been containment for the most insane of patients, while still providing a grated hole near their top so that doctors could observe all actions and behaviors. This is the place nightmares are made of.
While most of this empty building lays in ruination through peeling paint, rusted doors and barred windows, a separate side, practically an alternate version of time itself remains sat at its top floors. In this alternate version of time, walls have begun to fall in, while the ceiling overhead resembles a naturally created sunroof, minus the glass, spanning entire lengths of numerous hallways and rooms, inviting the sun above to shine brightly inside. Many windows have abandoned their rusted bars, tossing most of them to a floor now covered in crusted ceiling and overgrowth, while trees push through sinks, vines find their way towards the holy ceiling and gardens reside vibrantly coating fractured porcelain bathtubs. As I observe life all around me reaching in through windows with a bright emerald glow, I realize something…this silence alone could drive one insane. Has it always been this quiet? Has the neighborhood always been so void of any other life, and were people subject to sit here, feeling completely alone? Since these dark days, this type of treatment and practice has been mainly phased out, but one can only wonder what it must have been like inside a madhouse such as this.
Now an odd jungle of destruction, the building will slowly deteriorate, years from now becoming nothing more than ruins. Sometimes I wonder though, am I truly part of this perceived reality, or am I stuck inside a room, picturing life in some altered frames of my unconscious mind? Any one of us could be so insane that we will never know it…perception is a strange thought.
"Watch out. The gap in the door... it's a separate reality. The only me is me. Are you sure the only you is you?" - Silent Hills
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A recently molted roach nymph - not something I was expecting or hoping to see. Wood roaches aren't sensitive to light and they often live in damp, rotting wood. I notice there is a bonus little orange Katiannina macgillivrayi barely visible at the left.
Id corrections appreciated.
The Sensitive fern (Onoclea sensibilis), also known as the bead fern, is a coarse-textured, medium to large-sized perennial fern. The name comes from the observation by early American settlers that it was very sensitive to frost, the fronds dying quickly when first touched by it. It is the sole species in the monotypic genus Onoclea.
Description
"Beads" of the Bead Fern Onoclea sensibilis
The sterile and fertile fronds of this fern are quite different. The bright, yellow-green sterile fronds are deeply pinnatifid and are typically borne at intervals along a creeping rhizome. They grow to about 90 cm long, with a long, smooth stipe. The fertile fronds are much smaller, non-green, and have very narrow pinnae. The sori are clustered like beads or grapes on the upright fertile fronds, hence the common name Bead fern. The fiddleheads are a pale red color.
Habitat
This fern dwells in a variety of wet swamp and wood habitats: wet meadows, thickets and bogs, as well as stream and riverbanks and roadside ditches. It ranges from Newfoundland to Florida and west to Texas, North Dakota and Manitoba, but is also native to east Asia and has become naturalized in western Europe.
It grows best in a shaded or partially shaded area in a moist soil. The plant will tolerate wet soils and so can be used near water. Winter survival will be enhanced if the dried fronds are left on the plant through the winter. Sensitive ferns spread to form colonies and are often the first species to inhabit disturbed areas. They can become weedy if not sited properly. In shade it can tolerate dryer conditions, but if grown in full sun it practically needs to be in soggy ground or at the very edge of water.
Onoclea sensibilis is also a facultative wetland indicator, toxic, and a host to the pathogen which causes bacterial wilt in rice.
St Mary, Kettlebaston, Suffolk
I always look forward to coming back to Kettlebaston. It is likely that anyone who knows the churches of Suffolk well will have Kettlebaston among their favourites. The setting is delectable, in the remote Suffolk hills between Hadleigh and Stowmarket. The building is at once elegant and interesting, the interior stunning, but most fascinating of all, perhaps, is the story behind the way it is today.
In 1963, in the thirty-third year of his incumbency as Rector of the parish of Kettlebaston, Father Harold Clear Butler sent a letter to a friend. "You are right,"he wrote. "There is no congregation any more." In failing health, he relied on the family of a vicar who had retired nearby to carry out the ceremonies of Easter week that year. In 1964, Father Butler himself retired, and an extraordinary episode in the history of the Anglo-Catholic movement in Suffolk came to an end.
There may have been no congregation, but St Mary at Kettlebaston was a shrine, to which people made pilgrimages from all over England. Here was the liturgically highest of all Suffolk's Anglican churches, where Father Butler said the Roman Mass every day, celebrated High Mass and Benediction on Sunday, dispensed with churchwardens, flouted the authority of the Anglican diocese by tearing down state notices put up in the porch, refused to keep registers, and even, as an extreme, ignored the office of the local Archdeacon of Sudbury. An entry from the otherwise empty registers for October 2nd 1933 reads Visitation of Archdeacon of Sudbury. Abortive. Archdeacon, finding no churchwardens present, rode off on his High Horse!
Father Butler came to this parish when the Anglo-Catholic movement was at its height, and survived into a poorly old age as it retreated, leaving him high and dry. But not for one moment did he ever compromise.
Kettlebaston church is not just remote liturgically. You set off from the vicinity of Hadleigh, finding your way to the back of beyond at Brent Eleigh - and then beyond the back of beyond, up the winding roads that climb into the hills above Preston. Somewhere here, two narrow lanes head north. One will take you to Thorpe Morieux, and one to Kettlebaston, but I can never be sure which is which, or even if they are always in the same place. Finding your way to this, one of the most remote of all Suffolk villages, can be like finding your way into Narnia. Once in the village, you find the church surrounded by a high yew hedge, through which a passage conducts a path into the graveyard. On a buttress, a statue of the Coronation of the Queen of Heaven sits behind a grill. It is a copy of an alabaster found under the floorboards during the 1860s restoration. The original is now in the British Museum.
One Anglo-catholic tradition that has not been lost here is that the church should always be open, always be welcoming. You enter through the small porch, perhaps not fully prepared for the wonders that await. The nave you step into is light, clean and well-cared for. There is no coloured glass, no heavy benches, no tiles. The brick floor and simple wooden chairs seem as one with the air, a perfect foil for the rugged Norman font on its elegant legs. And then, the surprise of the rich view to the east, for the fixtures and fittings of the 20th Century Anglo-Catholic tradition survive here in all their splendour.
The two major features are the rood screen and the high altar. The rood screen is the work of several people, having been added to over the years by a roll-call of prominent Anglo-Catholic artists. It was designed by Ernest Geldart in the early 1900s. It was painted by Patrick Osborne in 1949, apart from the figures, which are the work of Enid Chadwick in 1954. They are: St Felix as a bishop holding a candle, St Thomas More in regalia, St Thomas of Canterbury with a sword through his mitre, St John Fisher as a bishop holding a book, St Alban in armour and St Fursey holding Burgh Castle.
To one side, the Sacred Heart altar bears the original stone mensa from the high altar. The table itself is the Stuart Communion table. To the other, a Lady altar. All of these are either gifts or rescued from redundant Anglo-Catholic churches elsewhere. The elegant grill in front of the rood loft stairs is by Ninian Comper.
Stepping through into the chancel is a reminder of how the clearance of clutter can improve a liturgical space. Here, the emptiness provides a perfect foil for the massive altar piece. The altar itself was the gift of Miss Eleanor Featonby Smith, consecrated by the Bishop of Madagascar in 1956, in one of those ceremonies conducted in the labyrinthine underworld of the Anglo-catholic movement. The altar sports what is colloquially referred to as the Big Six - the trademark six candlesticks of an Anglo-catholic parish. Behind them, the rich reredos is also by Ernest Geldart, and was also painted by Patrick Osborne.
At the west end of the nave is a display case holding facsimiles of the Kettlebaston alabasters, an oddly prosaic moment. But Kettlebaston's medieval past is not entirely rebooted, for the chancel was sensitively restored by Ernest Geldart in 1902 with none of the razzmatazz of his church at Little Braxted in Essex. The east window was rebuilt to the same design as the original, as was the roof. The late 13th Century piscina and sedilia are preserved, and on the north side of the chancel survives an impressive tomb recess of about the same date.
The sole memorial is to Joan, Lady Jermyn, who died in 1649. Her inscription, at the End of the English Civil War and the start of the ill-fated Commonwealth, is a fascinating example of the language of the time. Is it puritan in sympathy, or Anglican? Or simply a bizarre fruit of the ferment of ideas in that World Turned Upside Down? Within this dormitory lyes interred ye corpps of Johan Lady Jermy it begins, and continues whose arke after a passage of 87 yeares long through this deluge of teares... rested upon ye mount of joye. And then the verse:
Sleepe sweetly, Saint. Since thou wert gone
ther's not the least aspertion
to rake thine asshes: no defame
to veyle the lustre of thy name.
Like odorous tapers thy best sent
remains after extinguishment.
Stirr not these sacred asshes, let them rest
till union make both soule & body blest.
Above, the roofs drip with hanging paraffin lamps, the walls have their candle brackets, for this little church still has no electricity. You sense the attraction of Benediction on a late winter afternoon.
St Mary is loved and cared for by those who worship in it. There are rather more of them than in Father Butler's final days, but they are still a tiny, remote community. Since 1964, they have been part of a wider benefice, and must toe the Anglican mainstream line, as at Lound. But also, as at Lound, the relics of the Anglo-Catholic heyday here are preserved lovingly, and, judging by the visitors book, it is not just the regular worshippers who love it, for Anglo-Catholics from all over England still treat it as a goal of pilgrimage. I remember sitting in this church on a bright spring afternoon some twenty years ago. I'd been sitting for a while in near-silence, which was suddenly broken by the clunk of the door latch. Two elderly ladies came in. They smiled, genuflected towards the east, and greeted me. Together, they went to the Sacred Heart altar, put a bunch of violets in a vase on it, and knelt before it. The silence continued, now with a counterpoint of birdsong from the churchyard through the open door. Then they stood, made the sign of the cross, and went out again. Father Butler looked on and smiled, I'm sure.
Los Angeles, CA, January 12, 2008 -
Phantom Galleries LA has become known for transforming unsightly empty storefronts into vibrant and culturally exciting art experiences from Beverly Hills to Pasadena. PGLA is proud to announce a partnership with the Long Beach Redevelopment Agency in presenting their inaugural Long Beach exhibit, Susan Chorpenning's window installation "Fiat Lux III." Curated by Dangerous Curve.
Location: 248 Pine Ave, Long Beach, CA 90802
Exhibit runs: January 12 to March 12, 2008.
Viewable 24/7 with optimal viewing hours between 5 pm - 1 am.
Gallery Hours by appointment only.
Reception for the artist TBA.
"Fiat Lux" means "Let There be Light." Chorpenning means to light up
the darkest days and longest nights of the year. If you've not seen
one of Susan Chorpenning's twinkling light window displays, you've not
had a true urban winter-wonderland experience! Her last PGLA
installation, "Fiat Lux II," was like a holiday mega-display, with the
lights painstakingly intertwined and loaded on until they filled the
whole window. From afar, the window seemed to hover in front of its
pane of glass. Up close, one's whole field of vision was engulfed.
The effect was invigorating exuberance.
"Fiat Lux III" is more subdued than was "Fiat Lux 2," its lights
restrained (if only slightly) and elegant. It fills the two windows to the left and
right of the location's main doorway. The walls are painted
bright colors with added blocks of color behind some light elements. These light elements come in a variety of shapes and sizes, such as twinkling globes, mini-lava lamps, colored compact fluorescents, and tiny, twinkling, multicolored lights mounted on frames. Using stretcher bars throughout - but instead of being the structure for paintings, they are the structure for lights - eg. strings of lights wrapped around the stretcher bars, and variations on this theme. These "frames" are the most recurrent image in the piece. More subtle it is, but indeed still a beautiful sensory enterprise.
More about the Artist
Chorpenning suechor/myhomepage/index.html
is from Altadena, via New York and Europe. She has had numerous solo
shows and siteworks in galleries and museums, nationally in New York,
the San Francisco Bay Area, Texas, and internationally in Paris,
France, and Germany. She has performed to rave reviews at Dixon
Place, The Knitting Factory, BACA, The Painted Bride, and Claremont
College.
Among other things, Chorpenning does so-called "dark rooms," chairs
with flash units and light-sensitive rocks. All these
things use afterimages (from phosphorescent paint or flash units that
leave traces on one's retina to mimic memory perceptions. The "memories" can build up and overlap, and sometimes interact and overwrite each other.
Chorpenning's solo show at Dangerous Curve in 2004 was one of her
"light room" installations. In these, she uses paint on walls and
floors to record "memories" of constantly moving sunlight streaming in
through doors, windows, and skylights throughout a given day. All
Chorpenning's past light rooms have been records of sunlight as it
actually came into the rooms, but in "February Thirtieth," the
sunlight was completely fabricated for a completely fabricated day.
Chorpenning has noted that light traces left from another part of a
day can have a surprising psychological effect, causing the viewer to
perceive enhanced brightness in a room without really understanding
why. Imagine the effect in a room that, facing north, doesn't have any
direct sunlight at all. The space at Dangerous Curve is such a room,
and the effect of Chorpenning's multicolored trace records was
profound.
More about the Presenters
Phantom Galleries LA PhantomGalleriesLA.com is a Los Angeles County based organization that transforms properties in transition into 24/7 public art galleries. Each installation is a unique relationship between the participating Artist, Curator, and Property Owner. Exhibits are curated by local Arts Organizations, Galleries, Independent Curators, and Artists. The project gives local artists an opportunity to exhibit their work, while fostering economic development by drawing attention to available retail space. PGLA promotes the creative communities of Los Angeles to a broader audience and encourages the appreciation and participation in the arts among community members and organizations creating a win/ win situation that benefits the entire community as a whole. Art is a necessary part of everyday life.
Dangerous Curve dangerouscurve.org is a leading
contemporary art space in the Arts District of Los Angeles that
supports risky and intelligent work that's ahead of the curve.
The Long Beach Redevelopment Agency works to build a better Long Beach. For more information about Long Beach contact: rda.longbeach.gov
photo by americanimagegallery.com
sueños mutuos
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rurales,
castrastroficos y sexuales -
Model: Luzonirik_77
Metro Valparaíso
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Man, when circuits get extra small, they get extra cute.
Once a 3V coin battery is attached the blue LED will light up in the dark. This one's gonna be an earring.
August 31, 2022 - New York City - Governor Kathy Hochul today, with New York City Mayor Eric Adams, addressed new public safety actions ahead of new gun laws going into effect in New York state. Starting tomorrow, concealed weapons will no longer be permitted on subways, in bars, and in sensitive locations including Times Square. The boundaries around Times Square will extend from Sixth Avenue to Eighth Avenue and from West 40th Street to West 53rd Street. “Guns Free Zone” signage will be posted along those boundaries and within Times Square saying guns are prohibited in the area. Learn more at gun safety.ny.gov Joining the Governor and the Mayor at today’s announcement were New York City Police Department Commissioner Keechant Sewell, New York State Police First Deputy Superintendent Steven Nigrelli, and New York City Council Speaker Adrienne Adams. (Kevin P. Coughlin / Office of Governor Kathy Hochul)
Sheriff George's sense of beauty was highly refined. Yup, nothing like an early morning pose with flowers to start the day out right... A smile forever.
The Place Nightmares Are Made Of
Sometimes life seems similar to a paint bucket minus the lid, being so sensitive to any movement around it, and though I may not have completely learned how to take full control of my own, sometimes having a couple of bumps and spills, I know that I am still doing something right, I mean, I must be. See, every time I look at where I left off, all I can say is "right on," because I write off the bad right off the bat. I keep the good memories for bad moments, and sometimes even these bad moments can create good memories of their own. See, life is a hectic and jumbled mess of shit and shining silver. Becoming sad in moments is great though, it shows you're still very much alive and capable of human emotion and compassion, not only that, but more often than not, there is something to be learned from it. Kind of like when you leave your car under the wrong tree in summer, while birds nest above for hours.
The sad sight of these post-apocalyptic scenes is, at times not far off from such similar a thought. I find beauty in these sad and desolate locations, while a lot of people may find them rather unsightly, I look past the cracking faces to see beauty within them. We must find a certain charm within this great sadness to truly be able to find full allure and happiness through the entire world surrounding us. The forgotten are a unique collection, each one being different than the last, thus how we are as people. Everything might look devastatingly broken before your eyes, but picture the good times, wonderful memories and history. Remember that not everything around you is broken like this, and if you learn to find beauty in this destruction, it will be so much easier to find beauty and happiness outside of it.
People previously contained within these particular walls had not been given the same gift that you and I have; the gift of free will to roam our Earth. As we enter a small town nearly 2 hours from Atlanta, we find ourselves amidst silent destruction, sat centered atop a hill within a desolate Southern town. The sweltering heat made it a sweaty chore climbing the hill headed up to the sanitarium, but at least this time we had some decently fresh water accompanying us in our backpacks. The fact that such a large structure had been left behind to collapse under the Georgia heat was alone an odd sight, but yet stranger, how incredibly quiet the town surrounding it sat. The only sounds filling the air were the slow dragging of our feet along the dusty ground of cracking sidewalks and the constant buzz of cicadas echoing from an overgrown path leading directly to the woods, where a road had previously sat.
Doors fitted with rotating and locking food trays lined multiple hallways. These same doors had previously been containment for the most insane of patients, while still providing a grated hole near their top so that doctors could observe all actions and behaviors. This is the place nightmares are made of.
While most of this empty building lays in ruination through peeling paint, rusted doors and barred windows, a separate side, practically an alternate version of time itself remains sat at its top floors. In this alternate version of time, walls have begun to fall in, while the ceiling overhead resembles a naturally created sunroof, minus the glass, spanning entire lengths of numerous hallways and rooms, inviting the sun above to shine brightly inside. Many windows have abandoned their rusted bars, tossing most of them to a floor now covered in crusted ceiling and overgrowth, while trees push through sinks, vines find their way towards the holy ceiling and gardens reside vibrantly coating fractured porcelain bathtubs. As I observe life all around me reaching in through windows with a bright emerald glow, I realize something…this silence alone could drive one insane. Has it always been this quiet? Has the neighborhood always been so void of any other life, and were people subject to sit here, feeling completely alone? Since these dark days, this type of treatment and practice has been mainly phased out, but one can only wonder what it must have been like inside a madhouse such as this.
Now an odd jungle of destruction, the building will slowly deteriorate, years from now becoming nothing more than ruins. Sometimes I wonder though, am I truly part of this perceived reality, or am I stuck inside a room, picturing life in some altered frames of my unconscious mind? Any one of us could be so insane that we will never know it…perception is a strange thought.
"Watch out. The gap in the door... it's a separate reality. The only me is me. Are you sure the only you is you?" - Silent Hills
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2018 collection
chaos
kamikaze(the breath of God) freeform
speed knitting & crochet fusion
intuitive sensitive
guerrilla style coat
for brave divas
with creative attitudes
How I use instax in 9x12 plate cameras.
I later either hand roll the chemicals across or use an instax camera to roll them in a darkroom.
institutions of Resolution Disputes [iRD]
Even though the iRD mimics an institute, in reality it is not a classic, institutional organ. Instead, the iRD multiplexes the term institution, by revisiting its usage in the late 1970s. Back then, Joseph Goguen and Rod Burstall formulated the term institution as a ‘more compound framework’, that dealt with the growing complexities at stake when connecting different logical systems (such as databases and programming languages) within computer sciences. While these institutions were put in place to connect different logical systems, they were not logical themselves.
Inspired by the idea of hyper functional, yet illogical frameworks, the iRD is dedicated to researching the interests of anti-utopic, obfuscated, lost and unseen, or simply ‘too good to be implemented’ resolutions.
The institutions of Resolution Disputes [iRD] call attention to media resolutions.
While ‘the resolution’ generally simply refers to a determination of functional settings in the technological domain, the iRD stresses that a resolution is indeed an overall agreed upon settlement (solution). However, the iRD believes that a resolution also entails a space of compromise between different actors (objects, materialities, and protocols) in dispute over norms (frame rate, number of pixels etc.). Generally, settings either ossify as requirements and de facto standards, or are notated as norms by standardizing organizations such as the International Organization for Standardization. We call this progress*.
However, resolutions are non-neutral standard settings that involve political, economical, technological and cultural values and ideologies, embedded in the genealogies and ecologies of our media. In an uncompromising fashion, quality (fidelity) speed (governed by efficiency) volume (generally encapsulated in tiny-ness for hardware and big when it comes to data) and profit (economic or ownership) have been responsible for plotting this vector of progress. This dogmatic configuration of belief x action has made upgrade culture a great legitimizer of violence, putting many insufficient technological resolutions to rest. While a resolution can thus be understood as a manifold assemblage of common - but contestable - standards, it should also be considered in terms of other options; those that are unknown and unseen, obsolete and unsupported within a time and (technological) space.
Resolutions inform both machine vision and human ways of perception. They shape the material of everyday life in a pervasive fashion.
As the media landscape becomes more and more compound, or in other words, an heterogenous assemblage in which one technology never functions on its own, its complexities have moved beyond a fold of everyday settings. Technological standards have compiled into resolution clusters; media platforms that form resolutions like tablelands, flanked by steep cliffs and precipices looking out over obscure, incremental abysses that seem to harbor a mist of unsupported, obsolete norms.
The platforms of resolution now organize perspective. They are the legitimizers of both inclusion and exclusion of what can not be seen or what should be done, while ‘other’ possible resolutions become more and more obscure.
It is important to realize that the platforms of resolutions are not inherently Evil*. They can be impartial. We need to unpack these resolutions and note that they are conditioning our perception. A culture that adheres to only one or a few platforms of resolutions supports nepotism amongst standards. These clusters actively engage simpleness and mask the issues at stake, savoring stupidity, and are finally bound to escalate into glutinous tech-fascism.
The question is, have we become unable to define our own resolutions, or have we become oblivious to them?
Resolutions do not just function as an interface effect*, but as hyperopic lens, obfuscating any other possible alternative resolutions from the users screens and media literacy. When we speak about video, we always refer to a four cornered moving image. Why do we not consider video with more or less corners, timelines, or soundtracks? Fonts are monochrome; they do not come with their own textures, gradients or chrominance and luminance mapping. Text editors still follow the lay-out of paper; there is hardly any modularity within written word technologies. Even ghosts, the figments of our imagination, have been conditioned to communicate exclusively through analogue forms of noise (the uncanny per default), while aliens communicate through blocks and lines (the more ‘intelligent’ forms of noise).
The user is hiking the resolution platforms comfortably. He is shielded from the compromises that are at stake inside his resolutions. Unknowingly suffering from this type of technological hyperopia, he keeps staring at the screens that reflect mirage after mirage.
A resolution is the lens through which constituted materialities become signifiers in their own right. They resonate the tonality of the users hive mind and constantly transform our technologies into informed material vernaculars.
Technology is evolving faster than we, as a culture, can come to terms with. This is why determinations such as standards are dangerous; they preclude alternatives. The radical digital materialist believes in informed materiality*: while every string of data is ambiguously fluid and has the potential to be manipulated into anything, every piece of information functions within adhesive* encoding, contextualization and embedding. Different forms of ossification slither into every crevice of private life, while unresolved, ungoverned free space seems to be slipping away. This is both the power and the risk of standardization.
We are in need for a re-(Re-)Distribution of the Sensible*.
The iRD offers a liminal space for resolution studies. Resolution studies is not only about the effects of technological progress or about the aesthetization of the scales of resolution. Resolution studies is a studies on how resolution embeds the tonalities of culture, in more than just its technological facets.
Resolution studies researches the standards that could have been in place, but are not. As a form of vernacular resistance, based on the concept of providing ambiguous resolutions, the iRD employs the liminal resolution of the screen as a looking-glass. Here, hyperopia is fractured and gives space to myopia, and visa versa. This is how iRD exposes the colors hidden inside the grey mundane objects* of everyday life.
The iRD is not a Wunderkammer for dead media*, but a foggy bootleg trail for vernacular resistance.
Progress has fathered many dead technologies. A Wunderkammer, or curiosity cabinet of media resolutions would celebrate these dead objects by trapping them inside a glass bell, relieving them indefinitely of their action radius. While the iRD adheres to the settlements of governing media resolutions, it also welcomes ventures along the bootleg trails of the tactical undead*. These undead move beyond resolution, through the literacies of the governing techno-cultures, into liminal spaces. They follow the wild and uncanny desire paths that cut through sensitive forms and off-limit areas into speculative materialities, futures and critical turns*. They threaten the status quo of secure forms of media and provide the ambiguity that is so necessary for inspiration, action and curiosity.
The iRD believes that methods of creative problem creation* can bring authorship back to the layer of resolution setting.
Resolution theory moves against what seems like an unsolvable puzzle of flattening reality. The iRD function one way trail straight into the Sea of Fog and towards the abyss of techno-norms. The iRD can however also be a modular framework, that opens and expands standards through inspection and reflection. As any good theory of media, resolution theory is a theory on literacy. Literacy of the machines, the people, the people creating the machines and the people being created by the machines. Through challenging the platforms of resolution, it can help the wanderer to scale actively between these states of hyperopia and myopia. It can uncover crystal cities of fog as well as shine a light on the soon to be distributed futures. Here we can mine for the yet unscreened timonds.
Sadly for me I'm on a two day timetabling course in Derby. I decided that I'd save the school a few quid and overnight at a flop house.
There's a weird story to that. I went to the Premier Inn website to look for the nearest hotel and the site shows an example postcode. That was the exact same postcode of the place where the training was! That was very weird!
Anyway, I finally got to my room and just LOVED this sign on the bathroom door. It's sensitive alright. I told the smoke detector that it needed to lose weight and it cried for bloody hours! ;)
This is also the first time that I've used my phone to email an image straight to Flickr. If I'm lucky it will be titled, tagged and described. If not then you'll just have to be intrigued. ;)