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Daphne Oram was a musical innovator, the first woman to direct an electronic music studio, the first woman to set up a personal electronic music studio and the first woman to design and construct an electronic musical instrument.
Today we celebrate a painter out there in the long shadows of Spain, walked around with a cane sometimes, wore a mustache sharp enough to cut glass and dreams both. Name of Salvador Dalí. You know, some people paint apples, some paint boats, some paint women sitting beside windows wondering where the years went. Dalí painted clocks that looked like they’d melted off the wall after hearing bad news.
Now I been thinking about him, and about time itself. Time’s a funny thing. You lose it in bus stations. You find it in old songs. Sometimes it drips right through your fingers like candle wax. Dalí knew that before most folks even finished winding their watches.
He came out of Figueres, where the sun hangs heavy over the stones and every alleyway looks like it remembers a secret. As a boy he saw ghosts in the wallpaper and armies in the clouds. Some people grow out of that sort of thing. He made a career out of it.
You look at one of his paintings and it’s like tuning whatever halfway between sleep and daylight. There are ants crawling over gold watches, elephants walking on legs taller than church steeples, faces turning into landscapes, landscapes turning into dreams.
He once said the only difference between him and a madman was that he wasn’t mad. That’s the kind of thing a madman says, but he said it with such style you just let him pass.
And style, well, he had enough style for three generations. Dalí dressed like a duke who’d wandered into a carnival by mistake. He gave interviews like he was conducting an orchestra only he could hear. Hung around with filmmakers, poets, socialites, wild-eyed philosophers and people who probably shouldn’t have been left alone near open flames.
He worked with Luis Buñuel on films where eyeballs got sliced open and logic packed its bags and left town. Later on he’d bump shoulders with Walt Disney, which makes more sense than people think. Disney and Dalí both understood that dreams got architecture. One built castles for children, the other built them for insomniacs. He made the graphic design for the universal lollipop Chupa-Chups, yeah, that’s him in plastic and sweets.
And there’s music in his paintings too. Not literal music, maybe, but rhythm. Silence. The long echo after the last note fades. Paintings like midnight train whistles. Like accordions heard through apartment walls. Like somebody whispering in a language you almost remember from before you were born.
Dalí understood that art didn’t have to behave itself. It could lie. It could hallucinate. It could laugh at you while showing you the truth sideways. That’s important. Sometimes the straight road tells you less than the crooked one.
You ever notice dreams don’t edit themselves? Nobody in a dream says, “Now hold on, that fish shouldn’t be wearing a tuxedo.” Dreams just keep moving. Dalí painted with that same authority. He painted impossible things with the confidence of a man describing the weather.
And underneath all the circus smoke and melted watches, there’s loneliness there too. Fear of death. Fear of decay. Fear that time keeps moving even when love doesn’t. The old blues singers knew that feeling. So did Dalí. Different instruments, same song. Maybe that’s why people still stare at his paintings like they’re waiting for them to blink. Because somewhere between the madness and the mastery, Salvador Dalí figured out something most people spend their whole lives avoiding: Reality’s a stranger place than dreams ever were.
ink, watercolor on paper
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
Some songs arrive like a freight train rolling through the middle of the night. Others come in on the tide, barefoot, carrying a book of poems under one arm and a guitar under the other. That's where you'll find Caetano Veloso.
He comes from Bahia, where the sun seems to know more melodies than the rest of the world combined. They say music is a universal language, but Caetano never seemed interested in speaking just one. He borrowed from samba, swallowed rock and roll whole, read the modernists, listened to the Beatles, then handed it all back wearing tropical colors nobody had seen before.
Some folks build fences around tradition. Caetano planted flowers on both sides and called it home.
He sang through years when singing could be dangerous. There were governments that didn't care much for poets, because poets have a habit of making people remember they're free. So they packed him off across the ocean. Funny thing about exile—it teaches a songwriter that home isn't always a place. Sometimes it's a rhythm. Sometimes it's a vowel. Sometimes it's a memory that fits inside three chords.
When he came back, he wasn't trying to sound young or old. Just true. That's harder than it sounds. You hear his voice and it doesn't push you. It invites you. Like somebody opening a window in a room you forgot had air. Some singers want to win an argument. Veloso seems content to ask a question and let it echo until you answer it yourself.
You don't have to understand every word to know what's happening. A beautiful melody has a passport accepted everywhere.
So whether you're driving a dusty highway through Mexico, walking a rainy street in Ottawa, or watching the Atlantic meet the shore in Salvador, there's room for a little Caetano Veloso. The world gets bigger when you listen to someone who never believed music should stay inside its own borders.
ink, watercolor, marbled paper.
contact ibarraloana@gmail.com
In winter, here in Sweden, we learn to notice the sun the way other people notice rare birds.
It’s not background, it’s an event.
When it finally slips past the low horizon and finds its way through a window, the whole house seems to pause.
The light doesn’t just land; it arrives, slow and deliberate, washing over the floor, climbing the walls, catching on the frames of paintings like it’s checking them out one by one.
For a moment, everything looks chosen, intentional.
You move your chair an inch to the left, just to be in it. There’s a quiet reverence to it, rambling, warm, half-myth, half-weather report.
Nobody says much.
You just let the sun play its brief set, knowing it won’t encore, and that makes it matter more.
On Monday, December 19th, we partnered with Lenovo computers to build out the ultimate art-themed smackdown. Hosted at Villain in Williamsburg, guests stepped into a fully imagined warehouse art party. That night it was all about participation. We created a series of art activities to get guests making art and meeting each other. Guests captured the revelry of the night in Ventikoland’s projection photo booth. After some savory Espolón cocktails and tacos the art battle was ready to begin. 2 amazing artists competed head-to-head in a series of timed challenges and a head-to-head battle of creative awesomeness. Interludes were provided by a pop & lock round girl, battling breakdancers, and a duo of beatboxers.
Event Design by Adam Aleksander Presents
Photography by Lukas Maverick Greyson
Obra: La Ultima Cena.
Autor: Dan Rosen.
Dirección: Sebastián Blanco Leiss.
Labor: Diseño de Escenografía y Vestuario.
(Junto a Florencia Del Gener).
Teatro: Diagonal. Mar del Plata.
Ganador Premio Estrella de Mar 2009: Mejor obra del Circuito Off.
Teatro: ElKafka Espacio Teatral. Buenos Aires.
Temporada 2009.
Fotos: Mariana Del Gener.
On Monday, December 19th, we partnered with Lenovo computers to build out the ultimate art-themed smackdown. Hosted at Villain in Williamsburg, guests stepped into a fully imagined warehouse art party. That night it was all about participation. We created a series of art activities to get guests making art and meeting each other. Guests captured the revelry of the night in Ventikoland’s projection photo booth. After some savory Espolón cocktails and tacos the art battle was ready to begin. 2 amazing artists competed head-to-head in a series of timed challenges and a head-to-head battle of creative awesomeness. Interludes were provided by a pop & lock round girl, battling breakdancers, and a duo of beatboxers.
Event Design by Adam Aleksander Presents
Photography by Lukas Maverick Greyson
Cock Park Restaurant Branding Design By #Akib_Sarder
This Project On:
#Behance: www.behance.net/gallery/57864131/Cock-Part-Restaurant-Bra...?
#Facebook: www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.298861310585256.1073741...
#Google+ : plus.google.com/u/0/104110449329655898745/posts/EaAjEtDMN5V
A Glitch "Code de Données Burqa Tchador ~ Ètude III”
This art piece were created for my PhD and based on a Digital and Analog Aesthetic Research on "Artistic Practices, Digital Art in Social Networks and Net Art", some digital techniques used of artistic diversity, such as the re-mixed appropriation of image or video, also work conceived as original data work called creative altered binary code, datamoshing, generative art and glitch art worked in all its forms and expressions; works of art with a strong focus decoding the i-frames of images and videos (also known as key frames and altered or distorted creative binary code) mixed with seductive techniques of Pixelsorting Art; making it seem extremely sensitive and abstract; created exclusively for the virtual gallery on-line.
by ™℗®© Louis M o n t i e l
~ FOLLOW ME & SUBSCRIBE ~
Instagram ~ louismontielt
Facebook ~ Louis Montiel
YouTube ~ Louis M o n t i e l
Vimeo ~ Louis M o n t i e l
#visualartists #glitchart #glitch #glitché #pixelsorting #glitchartistscollective #glitchvideo #datamosh #digitalglitch #videoglitch #hyperspektiv #minimalart #videoart #dfkt #pixelsorter #artistsvisual #glitchartoninstagram #glitchartscollective #glitcharts #glitchartistcommunity #glitchartwork #error #glitchartists #glitchartcommunity #glitchartistcollective #glitchartist #pixelsortingart #proceduralart #creativecodeart #glitchportrait
On Monday, December 19th, we partnered with Lenovo computers to build out the ultimate art-themed smackdown. Hosted at Villain in Williamsburg, guests stepped into a fully imagined warehouse art party. That night it was all about participation. We created a series of art activities to get guests making art and meeting each other. Guests captured the revelry of the night in Ventikoland’s projection photo booth. After some savory Espolón cocktails and tacos the art battle was ready to begin. 2 amazing artists competed head-to-head in a series of timed challenges and a head-to-head battle of creative awesomeness. Interludes were provided by a pop & lock round girl, battling breakdancers, and a duo of beatboxers.
Event Design by Adam Aleksander Presents
Photography by Lukas Maverick Greyson
Born in Ukraine 1953, Valentina has been living in Finland since 2000.
I met her in an art gallery where she was discussing with the gallery people, the last details concerning her exhibition, scheduled for the next day. She invited me to the vernissage--opening-- and to participate in one of her water-painting courses, sometime on a weekend.
A Glitch "Terpsichrois(Τερψιχόρη) ~ Ètude II”
This art piece were created for my PhD and based on a Digital and Analog Aesthetic Research on "Artistic Practices, Digital Art in Social Networks and Net Art", some digital techniques used of artistic diversity, such as the re-mixed appropriation of image or video, also work conceived as original data work called creative altered binary code, datamoshing, generative art and glitch art worked in all its forms and expressions; works of art with a strong focus decoding the i-frames of images and videos (also known as key frames and altered or distorted creative binary code) mixed with seductive techniques of Pixelsorting Art; making it seem extremely sensitive and abstract; created exclusively for the virtual gallery on-line.
by ™℗®© Louis M o n t i e l
~ FOLLOW ME & SUBSCRIBE ~
Instagram ~ louismontielt
Facebook ~ Louis Montiel
YouTube ~ Louis M o n t i e l
Vimeo ~ Louis M o n t i e l
#visualartists #glitchart #glitch #glitché #pixelsorting #glitchartistscollective #glitchvideo #datamosh #digitalglitch #videoglitch #hyperspektiv #minimalart #videoart #dfkt #pixelsorter #artistsvisual #glitchartoninstagram #glitchartscollective #glitcharts #glitchartistcommunity #glitchartwork #error #glitchartists #glitchartcommunity #glitchartistcollective #glitchartist #pixelsortingart #proceduralart #creativecodeart #glitchportrait
Obra: La Ultima Cena.
Autor: Dan Rosen.
Dirección: Sebastián Blanco Leiss.
Labor: Diseño de Escenografía y Vestuario.
(Junto a Florencia Del Gener).
Teatro: Diagonal. Mar del Plata.
Ganador Premio Estrella de Mar 2009: Mejor obra del Circuito Off.
Teatro: ElKafka Espacio Teatral. Buenos Aires.
Temporada 2009.
Fotos: Mariana Del Gener.
Obra: La Ultima Cena.
Autor: Dan Rosen.
Dirección: Sebastián Blanco Leiss.
Labor: Diseño de Escenografía y Vestuario.
(Junto a Florencia Del Gener).
Teatro: Diagonal. Mar del Plata.
Ganador Premio Estrella de Mar 2009: Mejor obra del Circuito Off.
Teatro: ElKafka Espacio Teatral. Buenos Aires.
Temporada 2009.
Fotos: Mariana Del Gener.
Obra: La Ultima Cena.
Autor: Dan Rosen.
Dirección: Sebastián Blanco Leiss.
Labor: Diseño de Escenografía y Vestuario.
(Junto a Florencia Del Gener).
Teatro: Diagonal. Mar del Plata.
Ganador Premio Estrella de Mar 2009: Mejor obra del Circuito Off.
Teatro: ElKafka Espacio Teatral. Buenos Aires.
Fotos: Mariana Del Gener.
Simple.
Direct.
Effective.
Two little words that can change your whole day
— “Hands Up.”
Now, sometimes it’s the law yelling it. Sometimes it’s the preacher. Sometimes it’s the rhythm that gets you, and your hands just go up without you even thinking about it.
It’s a phrase that’s been shouted in bank robberies, whispered in bedrooms, sung in nightclubs, and printed on protest signs. It’s a surrender. A celebration. A command. A confession.
Explore the raised hand in all its musical incarnations. From stick-up men, to gospel choirs, from reggae riddims to disco floors where everybody’s hands are in the air and they just don’t care.
Sin and redemption. Of power and submission.
Of dancing and defiance. And maybe a few surprises in between. Ait’, it’s Friday, pour yourself a cup of something warm or something cold. Put your feet up or maybe keep them ready to move. And get ready to throw your hands up —in joy, in surrender, in solidarity, or maybe just to catch the spirit.
//your always past ain't past, Loana Ibarra, where the music on paper is always ready to testify.
Peter D. Gerakaris, Terrarium Tondo III, 16 in. diameter,
Oil on canvas over panel, 2011, Art In Embassies Permanent Collection (Libreville, Gabon)
More info at:
Blue has always been a traveler. It crossed oceans before most people ever did. Long before it found its way into denim jackets, music studios, and the last verse of a broken-hearted song, it came down from mountains in the form of stone.
There was a time when blue was worth more than gold. The painters of the Renaissance would grind lapis lazuli from the mountains of Afghanistan into a powder so precious that patrons counted every brushstroke. If you saw a robe glowing with heavenly blue in an old painting, chances are somebody paid dearly for the privilege. That's the funny thing about blue, it has always carried a little distance inside it. You look at it, and you're already somewhere else. The sky wears blue without owning it. The sea borrows it from the sky, and poets borrow it from both. Nobody can quite pin blue down. Maybe that's why it became the color of longing. The horizon is blue because it's always just out of reach.
Painters knew that long before musicians did. Then along came the Romantics, who discovered that blue wasn't merely a color but a state of mind. Later, Picasso wandered into his Blue Period, filling canvases with lonely guitar players, beggars, and dreamers whose faces seemed carved from twilight itself. Those paintings don't just show sadness, they hum with it, like an old guitar with one string slightly out of tune. Music caught on. Before the blues became a genre, people were already "having the blues." The phrase floated through the language like weather rolling in. Eventually it found twelve bars, a bent note, and a voice weathered enough to tell the truth. Funny how a color became a sound. Blue keeps changing costumes. It became the uniforms of workers, then the fabric of rebellion. Blue jeans started out on railroad tracks and cattle trails before winding up on concert stages and movie screens. Somewhere between hard labor and rock and roll, blue learned another trick: it became freedom. Artists kept chasing it. Yves Klein decided ordinary blue wasn't blue enough, so he invented one of his own, a color so intense it looked like it had escaped gravity. Across the Atlantic, abstract painters spread fields of blue that seemed less like paintings than places you could fall into if you stared long enough. Scientists will tell you blue light scatters through the atmosphere. Mystics will tell you blue belongs to the infinite. Sailors trust it until storms turn it black. Lovers write about blue moons that almost never happen. Everyone's got their own version.
Maybe that's why blue lasts. It isn't loud enough to demand attention, but it stays after the brighter colors have gone home. It's the last light of evening, the embroidery of the women across the Atlantic, the first hint of morning, the smoke curling from a café at closing time, the note that hangs in the air after the band has packed up and the audience has disappeared into the night.
GLANCING GABRIEL. Rosario, Cavite Province, Philippines. Photograph by J.A. Austria, 2009.
Waiting for their turn in the liturgy, a teen-age Caviteno dressed as an archangel glances at the austere beauty of a young lady playing the role of the Virgin Mary. The "Panunuluyan" is a traditional re-enactment of the infancy narratives, in particular Joseph and Mary's frustrating search for a place to stay in Bethlehem. In the past Cavitenos used to accompany the couple, bring with them paper laterns shaped like stars, or rabbits etc. It is now practically extinct (except in the town of Kawit and in a commercialized form at that) and is being replaced by abbreviated, modern versions such as this one incorporated within the mass.
Obra: La Ultima Cena.
Autor: Dan Rosen.
Dirección: Sebastián Blanco Leiss.
Labor: Diseño de Escenografía y Vestuario.
(Junto a Florencia Del Gener).
Teatro: Diagonal. Mar del Plata.
Ganador Premio Estrella de Mar 2009: Mejor obra del Circuito Off.
Teatro: ElKafka Espacio Teatral. Buenos Aires.
Temporada 2009.
Fotos: Mariana Del Gener.
New Orleans bodypainter sat down with us for an interview in issue 13 of A Distinctive Style Magazine.
See the interview here: www.adistinctivestyle.com/issue/22468/9
Imagine a dialogue of live video art, contemporary music instruments, scent and performance art. A group of Greek artists from different disciplines come together for one single and unique performance, acting and reacting to their senses. You are invited to experience the Monologue Dialogue with your eyes, ears and nose.
www.mediamatic.net/en/page/368174/monologue-dialogue
Photographer: Margherita Soldati