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08/04/2017 : Le Puy-Sainte-Réparade, Château La Coste : exposition Mountains and Seas (Ai Weiwei)
All Fingers Must Point Down
Today we celebrate a man who played the trumpet like it was murmuring secrets it wasn’t sure it should tell. That’s the beautiful Chet Baker.
Chet Baker came out of the West Coast, but his sound didn’t belong to any coast. It drifted. Like cigarette smoke in a cheap motel room, or a love letter folded one too many times. He had a horn that didn’t shout or testify, it confessed. Real quiet-like. You leaned in, and by the time you realized what was happening, the song had already moved into your bones. They said he looked like a movie star, and maybe that was part of the trouble. Folks hear that trumpet and think it’s all moonlight and convertibles, but underneath there’s a lot of gravel road. Baker sang the way some people talk when they’re alone. No armor. No tricks. Just a voice hanging there, asking if anyone’s listening. His sweet soft sugar-cotton candy voice takes you back and forth from the moon in an endless loop. Have you ever listened to his Bobby Scott and Ric Marlow version of “A Taste of Honey”? if thats not a cosmic orgasm I don’t know what is.
In jazz, everybody’s running races -faster, higher, louder. Baker? He walked. Sometimes he barely got there at all, but the space between the notes told you more than the notes ever could. Miles Davis knew that. Lester Young knew that. When you play less, you say more. That’s an old law, older than electricity. Baker’s life went every which way, like a radio signal fading in and out as you cross state lines. Fame came early, wisdom came late, and peace came when it felt like it. That trumpet carried the weight of it all. Every cracked note, every soft landing, every fall you don’t see coming until you’re already on the ground.
You see, Chet Baker had struggles the way some people have shadows, they followed him everywhere, even at noon. He wrestled with addiction for most of his life, and it wasn’t the romantic kind people like to dress up after the fact. It took things from him. Time. Trust. Chances. Even his ability to play the horn the way he once had. There were arrests, long disappearances, years where the music barely survived the man. He’d fall off the map, then show up again somewhere in Europe, battered but still blowing, still singing like the truth hadn’t let him go. And that voice by the later years, it wasn’t smooth anymore. It was weathered. Worn down. But sometimes wear tells you more than polish ever could. When Baker sang then, it sounded like someone who knew exactly what things cost. As for the end there’s a lot of noise around it, and not all of it’s honest.
Chet Baker died in 1988 in Amsterdam after falling from a hotel window. The official ruling was accidental. People have argued about it ever since, because people like their stories tied up neat, with a bow and a moral. But life doesn’t usually work that way, and neither did Baker.
So when you hear Chet Baker play, don’t listen for perfection. Listen for truth. Listen for the sound of a man standing in the doorway, half in the light, half in the dark, blowing a melody that knows it won’t last forever but plays it anyway.
ink, watercolor on paper
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
Ann investigates visual memory and the traces of human activity embodied within objects. In creating this installation she has deconstructed the elements that dominated her previous wall paintings and re-imagined them in contrasting sculptural forms that have a solid, physical presence free of constraint. The whole is presented as a puzzle challenging our visual perception.
mail@amsutton-visualartist.com
Los Angeles Installation Artist, Jane Castillo, shares some of her time with Atelier Visit. Her interview was filmed in her home Studio in February 2010.
David Shrigley the 43 year old UK visual artist has provided an interview to MetroUK about his injection of humour into his work. Shrigley works with various media and is renowned for his humourous cartoons released as postcards and in softcover books. Shrigley’s work is said to have two major characteristics, an odd viewpoint and a limited technique. His use of free hand lines are crude and incorporated with the use of ruler, and the annotations to his drawings are frequently crossed out and suggestive of poor execution. In the interview Shrigley states “My work is really quite bleak a lot of the time and quite nasty as well, so maybe adding comedy into the mix makes it slightly less so… I’m not really interested in making people laugh that much; I just want to engage people and tell them something different.” Shrigley has produced a number of drawings published by the New Statesman. “I did it as an exercise to be a political cartoonist… I’m not really equipped to do that, in the sense that I can’t draw – I’m not an illustrator. I can’t draw caricatures of anybody…”
Pull your chair a little closer. Today we're following a road where the signs are written in bass clefs and the streetlights flicker in blue notes. The destination is the celebration of a fellow they called Guru.
Some people arrive like unexpected fireworks in the daytime. Others come in through the side door carrying a notebook. Guru was one of those. His voice never seemed to be trying to outrun anybody. It moved the way an old bike moves across the city—steady enough that you could count the spin. He had that rare gift of sounding calm while saying things that stayed with you for years.
You know, rap music and jazz have always shared a family resemblance. One grew up in smoky clubs, the other on concrete corners. Both know what it means to improvise when life doesn't hand you the melody you were hoping for. Jazz asks a question with a trumpet. Hip-hop answers it with a turntable.
Then along came “Jazzmatazz Vol. 1.”
Now there's a record that doesn't behave like it belongs to any one neighborhood. It's less interested in crossing genres than in reminding you they used to live on the same block. Guru invited real jazz musicians into the room, not as decoration, not as museum pieces, but as conversation partners. The beats don't push the saxophone out of the way, and the horns don't look down their noses at the drum machine. Everybody gets a chair at the table. Guru's rhymes sit in the pocket with remarkable patience. He understood that confidence doesn't always have to raise its voice. His delivery leaves space for the music to breathe, and the music rewards him by becoming something bigger than accompaniment. It's collaboration in the oldest sense of the word.
There are albums that sound like they were built in a laboratory. “Jazzmatazz Vol. 1” sounds like it wandered into a late-night rehearsal where nobody wanted to leave because the conversation was too good. The grooves roll along without hurry. The bass lines feel lived in. The guest musicians aren't there to prove a point; they're there because the tune asked them to show up. Oh me oh my that track “Le Bien, Le Mal” along with the exquisite french rapper MC Solaar is one magistral one:
“L'homme qui prend le microphone se nomme Solaar
Maître de la rime urbaine accompagné des comparses de Gang Starr
À Paris en France comme dans la Rome antique
Imite le maître, mate le mythe comme Spartacus limite les mecs
Qui millimètre après millimètre jettent l′intellect à des kilomètres
It's your turn, Guru”
Listening to it now, what strikes me isn't that it predicted the future. Plenty of records get credit for that. It's that it trusted the past enough not to fear it. The album says yesterday and tomorrow can share the same microphone if they're willing to listen to each other.
Funny thing about roads. You spend your life singing about them, walking them, trying to find where they lead. Most of them don't remember your name. But every once in a while, one does.
Over in Montpellier, France, there's a little stretch of pavement called Allée Guru. Imagine that. A man who spent his career making records about knowledge, rhythm, and self-possession ends up becoming a street himself. That's about as fitting a memorial as you could ask for. Streets don't ask for applause. They just keep carrying people forward. Every day somebody walks across his name without realizing they're following a path laid down by a voice that believed music could be wiser than noise. The choice of Montpellier wasn't random. The city has a long-standing appreciation for hip-hop culture and jazz, and local officials described Guru as an artist whose work transcended genres and generations. France overall has a larger hip-hop culture than you might expect, starting rapping in French already in the early 80’s. But that is another story.
Guru himself had a quality you don't find often in popular music. He sounded like a man who believed words ought to earn their place. No wasted syllables. No unnecessary fireworks. Just observation, rhythm, and a quiet certainty that truth can travel farther than volume.
Every now and then an artist reminds us that music isn't really about categories. Folk, jazz, blues, rap, yeah they're all trying to answer the same old questions: Who are we? Where are we headed? Who's walking beside us? Guru asked those questions with a voice as cool as midnight and as grounded as the first note from an upright bass.
So if you've got the sun burning in your head and your body stretching out ahead of you, give “Jazzmatazz Vol 1.” another spin. Some records ask you to listen. This one invites you to stay awhile.
ink, watercolor on paper
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
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26/06/2012 : Marseille 3e, bd National / rue de Strasbourg, îlot National : exposition Une collection de collections (Maryvonne Arnaud et Philippe Mouillon)
collection de boites de sardines (restaurant-poissonnerie "La Boite à sardines")
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For the record, this is the intended orientation of this painting. Sometimes I'm not sure until I've lived with a piece for a while.
Visual artist Cande Aguilar in his studio. Oct. 8, 2013
© Imanol Miranda. Do not use without permission.
VA, 1980 (selenium toned gelatin-silver print)
george-elsasser.blogspot.com/2010/01/intersections-20-yea...
Michael T. Klare the American Professor of Peace and World Security Studies has published an article on TomDispatch questioning if Barack Obama is morphing into Dick Cheney, highlighting four ways he is pursuing Cheney’s geopolitics of global energy. In the article Klare states “As details of his administration’s global war against terrorists, insurgents, and hostile warlords have become more widely known -- a war that involves a mélange of drone attacks, covert operations, and presidentially selected assassinations -- President Obama has been compared to President George W. Bush in his appetite for military action. …When it comes to international energy politics, however, it is not Bush but his vice president, Dick Cheney, who has been providing the role model for the president. …it is possible to reconstruct the geopolitical blueprint that Cheney followed …a blueprint that President Obama, eerily enough, now appears to be implementing, despite the many risks involved.1. Promote domestic oil and gas production at any cost to reduce America’s dependence on unfriendly foreign suppliers... 2. Keep control over the oil flow from the Persian Gulf … in order to retain an “economic stranglehold” over other major oil importers. 3. Dominate the sea lanes of Asia, so as to control the flow of oil and other raw materials to America’s potential economic rivals, China and Japan. 4. Promote energy “diversification” in Europe, especially through increased reliance on oil and natural gas supplies from the former Soviet republics of the Caspian Sea basin… This four-part geopolitical blueprint, relentlessly pursued by Cheney while vice president, is now being implemented in every respect by President Obama.” Inspired by Tom Dispatch ow.ly/cf7Nz image source Twitter ow.ly/cf7MZ
British Artist: Andrew Campbell: VisualBites:
Art Studio Studies: Portfolio Maquettes: #01-1000
Project-7: Netscapes+Subterfuge: iphone-sketchbooks:
#artforsocialmedia #AndrewCampbell
Artist Ref: www.andrew-campbell.com
Poets Who Refused to Fit in.
You know, every generation invents a new kind of exile. Sometimes it's someone walking the bike road tracks with a guitar. Sometimes it's somebody sitting in a café writing sonnets nobody wants to print. And sometimes it's Vladimir Mayakovsky, who didn't merely walk into the twentieth century, he kicked the door off its hinges and demanded the walls explain themselves.
People like to file writers into neat little cabinets. Romantic. Symbolist. Futurist. Revolutionary. Dissident. But literature has always been suspicious of filing cabinets. A real writer keeps spilling out of the drawer. Mayakovsky came dressed in clouds, wrote as though punctuation were too polite for history, and treated the page like a public square instead of a drawing room. His poems don't whisper from leather-bound editions. They stand on the table, point at everyone in the room, and ask who among them still believes words are decorative.
There's a curious habit in literary culture today. Every decade invents a new vocabulary to explain why books no longer need to be books. The text becomes "performance," then "intervention," then "experience," then "content." Somewhere along the way the sentence itself is treated as an inconvenience, as though the architecture of language were merely scaffolding for a fashionable theory. Mayakovsky would have laughed at that.
He wanted language to explode, yes—but it still had to be language. The shock was earned. Every broken line carried the weight of rhythm. Every impossible metaphor arrived after disciplined construction. His rebellion was technical before it was ideological. The page looked unconventional because he understood convention deeply enough to dismantle it. That's the difference between innovation and novelty. Novelty mistakes surprise for achievement. Innovation changes the possibilities of the form itself.
The tragedy is that many readers remember Mayakovsky for the posters, the slogans, the mythology of revolution, while forgetting that the real revolution was grammatical. He enlarged what poetry could sound like without asking poetry to stop being poetry.
Some critics prefer literature that behaves like a museum label: explanatory, approved, properly contextualized. Others want literature dissolved into autobiography until every sentence becomes evidence in a social trial. Neither approach leaves much room for style.
Style isn't decoration. Style is thought made audible.
When Mayakovsky stretches a line until it almost snaps, he isn't decorating the page. He's forcing language to breathe differently. That is criticism enacted through form, not explained afterward in academic vocabulary.
The strange thing about literary history is that every generation praises yesterday's radicals while distrusting today's difficult books. Once the scandal becomes canonical, everyone claims they saw the future first.
Mayakovsky reminds us that literature isn't obliged to comfort institutions—not governments, not universities, not publishing markets, not even readers. Its first loyalty is to discovering whether language still possesses undiscovered territory. That discovery is expensive. Sometimes politically. Sometimes emotionally. Sometimes personally. He paid all three prices.
People often say his life ended in despair. Perhaps. But despair doesn't erase achievement any more than applause guarantees it. Literature shouldn't be judged by the biography of its author any more than architecture should be judged by the mood of the mason. What survives is the sentence.
And Mayakovsky built sentences large enough to outlive slogans.
So wherever you happen to be today, whether you're reading a battered paperback in the kitchen or staring out a window wondering why every century promises a new beginning and delivers the same old arguments, remember this: the loudest thing Mayakovsky ever wrote wasn't his politics. It was his faith that language could still become something nobody had heard before. That's a harder revolution than changing governments.
ink, watercolor on paper
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
Ushuaia is the southernmost city in the world and capital of the Province of Tierra del Fuego, Antarctica and the South Atlantic Islands.
British Artist: Andrew Campbell: VisualBites:
Art Studio Studies: Portfolio Maquettes: #01-1000
Project-7: Netscapes+Subterfuge: iphone-sketchbooks:
#artforsocialmedia #AndrewCampbell
Artist Ref: www.andrew-campbell.com
Anthony Stephen 'Tony' Burke the 42 year old Australian politician and the current Minister for Sustainability and Environment announced that Australia is to create an enormous network of marine park reserves to protect waters from oil and gas exploration and limiting commercial fishing. In an article on Aljazeera, Burke states "The Coral Sea marine national park ... combined with the Great Barrier Reef area, becomes the largest marine protected area in the world". The article states Australia's marine reserves will increase from 27 to 60 under the new scheme, covering more than 3 million sq km, or one third of the island nation's waters. The announcement of the network was made a week before more than 130 heads of state and government will gather in Rio de Janeiro for the United Nations' sustainable development conference as part of global efforts to curb climate change, one of the biggest conferences in UN history. … The protection plan will ban oil and gas exploration in all marine national parks, including across the Coral Sea and off Margaret River, a popular tourist and wine-growing area in the southwest. Burke acknowledged the plan would also have an impact on the fishing industry. The plan attracted immediate criticism from some environmental groups, as well as independent and opposition politicians and lobby groups.” Inspired by Aljazeera ow.ly/bWcnW image source Adam Carr ow.ly/bWcnb
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08/08/2021 : Avignon, rue Violette : extension de la Collection Lambert (Berger & Berger, 2015)
A Glitch "Aphrodite (Ἀφροδίτη) ~ Ètude IV”
by ™℗®© Louis M o n t i e l
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British Artist: Andrew Campbell: VisualBites:
Art Studio Studies: Portfolio Maquettes: #01-1000
Project-7: Netscapes+Subterfuge: iphone-sketchbooks:
#artforsocialmedia #AndrewCampbell
Artist Ref: www.andrew-campbell.com
Me estás oyendo inútil?
It’s 🎂Paquita La Del Barrio 🎂 tajm
Paquita la del Barrio, meaning Paquita from the Block, is a ranchera mexican singer born in the beautiful Coast of Veracruz, Mexico. Paquita’s songs usually take a stance against Mexico's sexist male culture. She is known for her often confrontational presence and her signature phrase; “Me estás oyendo, inútil?" -"Are you listening to me, you good-for-nothing?"- (with which she often teases male spectators in her shows).
Paquita once and repeatedly times said -“I will never be on men’s side. I am defending women. It is very important. I am a woman. I speak of my experiences."
Her best-known song is "Rata de dos patas" "Two-legged rat", in which she compares an ex-lover to a variety of vermin and other untrustworthy animals.
Paquita La Del Barrio has gained the love of the mexican women, from the poorest to the richest, she has created a place to gather women and together sing out anger, frustration, disappointment, sadness, I call that a silence that burns.
Watercolor ink on paper
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
In Calcutta.
The unmistakable vegetable market of New Market.
HDR from 3 images.
See more images on my Facebook page.
Genevieve Chua, born in 1984 in work Raised As a Pack of Wolves was Residency Programme at the Gyeonggi
Singapore, graduated with a Diploma in Fine Arts (Painting) from LASALLE College of the Arts, Singapore in 2004. Her works span a variety of mediums including drawing, photography and installation. Genevieve’s works possess distinctive aesthetic and recurring motifs of nature and female figures in dim light. Genevieve’s art explores the fear of the unknown.
For a young artist, Genevieve has exhibited extensively. Her solo exhibitions include As Brutal As (La Liberia Gallery, Singapore, 2007), Lost in the City: Full Moon and Foxes (National Museum of Singapore, 2009) and Child and the Beast (Objectifs Centre for Photography and Filmmaking, 2011). Genevieve has also exhibited overseas at ArtHK 2011 (AsiaOne ChanHampe Galleries, Hong Kong, 2011).
Genevieve was also selected to exhibit at the Singapore Biennale 2011 where she showcased Adinandra Belukar at the Old Kallang Airport. In 2009, her digital
commissioned for the M1 Singapore Fringe Festival. Other group exhibitions in which she has participated include CUT 2009: Figure, New Photography from Southeast Asia (Valentine Willie Fine Art, Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, 2009), Next Wave Time Lapse (Federation Square, Melbourne, Australia, 2010) and Cross-Scape (Kumho Museum of Art, Seoul; Jeonbuk Museum of Art, Jeonju; Goeun Museum of Art, Busan, South Korea, 2011). Her work, After the Flood (2010), was sold by international auction house Sotheby’s and was exhibited at The Singapore Show: Future Proof (8Q Singapore Art Museum, 2012).
Genevieve constantly seeks to expand her practice and this has led her to participate in numerous residences locally and abroad. In 2010, she was selected for the BMW Young Asian Artist Series at the Singapore Tyler Print Institute and the Late Fall Residency at The Banff Centre in Calgary, Canada. In 2011, she took part in the GCC Creative
Creation Centre in Gyeonggi-do, South Korea and The Art Incubator at the Centre for Creative Communications in Shizuoka, Japan.
Automotive Rhythms latest project combined our passions for automobiles and the arts. AR's 2016 Kia Sorento SXL 2.0T AWD was also the canvas for artist Jamaal Newman’s creation during the ART-of-Motion (AOM) exhibit in Washington, D.C. aka As ABOVE, So BELOW.
Jamaal was one of the featured visual painters of AOM produced and executed by Automotive Rhythms during the 2016 Washington Auto Show. He painted the Sorento live during the Auto Show in just under 13 hours. Inspired by the South Korean origin of Kia Motors and his research on the Korean War, the artist wanted his creation to symbolically unify North and South Korea. As ABOVE, So BELOW features a lion from Zion on the passenger’s side representing the North while a shark on the South guards the driver’s side. Unification is represented on the hood, meshing the Korean flag with the Yin and Yang badge to signify balance in Korea. Stated Jamaal, “Through my creative vision I wanted to bring equality and unity to Korea.”