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Equal Footing is a transmedia project for the Keepers of the Earth film on indigenous communities in Chiapas, Mexico. Project development and pictures are from the BAVC Producers Institute 2011
Omdat er in ons land nog altijd geen loongelijkheid bestaat tussen vrouwen en mannen organiseren ABVV en zij-kant jaarlijks Equal Pay Day, de dag voor gelijk loon. Equal Pay Day 2011 legt het verband tussen lonen en pensioenen. Omdat vrouwen doorgaans een lager loon hebben, krijgen ze ook een lager individueel pensioen. Vrouwen zouden in theorie dus veel langer moeten werken om een fatsoenlijk pensioen op te bouwen. Vandaar de slogan: ‘Minder verdienen is langer werken’.
The Equal Love / IDAHO Rally on May 14th was a great success, and unsurprisingly there was A LOT of love for IDAHO.
King George Square, Brisbane.
March 22, 2012.
**Please do not use images without permission**
Just a few photos from the rally/protest.
Jasper Johns - American, born 1930
Perilous Night, 1982
East Building, Upper Level — Gallery 403-B
Three casts of human hands and forearms hang from the top edge of the right half of this horizontal abstract painting, which is divided vertically in two equal parts. The rectangular field to the left is mottled with steel and charcoal gray streaked with white and amethyst purple. The panel to the right is divided again so the top half is slightly larger than the bottom half. The bottom portion is painted with a pattern to resemble abstracted wood grain in nickel and slate gray. A stylized white cloth, perhaps a handkerchief, is painted to look as if hanging from a nail hammered into the wood paneling, to our left. The top portion seems to be layered with paintings and prints below and beneath the three arms. The three-dimensional arms hang from looped metal wires on metal hooks spaced along the top edge, coming about a quarter of the way down the overall composition. The peach-colored arms and hands are painted all over with irregular gray patches, creating a camouflage effect. They hang down so the open palms are flat against the canvas, the thumbs extended to our left. The top of the arm to our left is painted cherry red, the middle is painted canary yellow, and the right arm royal blue. The paint drips down the arms and splatters on the hands and on the faux wood panel below. Behind the hands, it appears that one of the artist’s prints hangs from two nails on the canvas, but this is also part of the painting. The illusionistic print has three horizontal bands of pine green, pumpkin orange, and violet purple crisscrossed with black lines. Seeming to hang behind it and under the right-most arm is a sheet of music overlapping another piece of paper printed with the letters “OHN C” and “THE PERILOUS.” Below, and filling the space between the illusionistic print and the wood panel, is a rectangular field of abstract gray and black swirling forms. The entire canvas is surrounded by a thin, amber-colored wood frame. A narrow wooden slat is attached with a hinge on the inner surface of the frame at the bottom right corner, so the slat runs up along and rests against the canvas near the rightmost edge of the frame. The artist signed the work with stenciled letters in pale gray in the lower right corner: “J. JOHNS ‘8.”
Johns has long been concerned with the visual and conceptual act of decoding. His various manners of painting and drawing, for example, frequently result in a congested accumulation of marks or signs, while his materials include encaustic (a thick, quick-drying wax medium that allows for a visible layering of brushstrokes) as well as objects that have been mounted on the canvas in the manner of assemblage and collage. These elements make Johns' work optically and physically dense; paintings acquire what the artist referred to as an "object quality," and the experience they elicit from the observer is slow and searching, as if form and meaning are at once tangible and obscure. In Perilous Night, such qualities are applied with unprecedented power and complexity to a new and unexpectedly expressive iconography.
Perilous Night is composed as a diptych. The right half of the composition contains objects and images that are variously representational: three fragmented casts of a human arm, hanging from the top of the canvas by individual hooks; a painter's maulstick, which is attached to the right-hand edge; a handkerchief copied from Picasso's images of the Weeping Woman, "attached" to the canvas by an illusionary nail; the silkscreened musical score of "Perilous Night," a song composed by John Cage; painted trompe l'oeil wood grain (a depiction of Johns' own front door); a Johns crosshatch picture, painted to look like a collage element; and a traced detail from Matthias Grünewald's Isenheim altarpiece showing the fallen soldier from the Resurrection panel, which has been transformed into a dark, illegible (or abstract) pattern. Enlarged and rotated, the Grünewald detail also occupies the entire left side of Perilous Night. The two-sided composition is, then, laden with the artifacts of artmaking--the tracing, the copy, the replica, the three-dimensional facsimile, and an actual tool of the trade.
Together these elements represent independent visual systems coexisting in a limbo state of unresolved relationships. Darkness ("perilous night") prevails throughout the work as a medium in which meaning is suspended. Nonetheless, Perilous Night possesses an iconographical complexity that was new to Johns' work. It heralded the beginning of a phase in which symbolic images are posted across the surfaces of paintings and drawings, often looking like separate objects that have been taped, pasted, or pinned to the support. As a body of work, their shared subject is the artist's studio as a hermetic space in which images, instruments, and props are charged with unexpected meaning. Thematically, they are also joined by references to mortality and death. In Perilous Night, the hanging arms, like a butcher's display of body parts, are luridly clear; in contrast, the almost illegible Grünewald Resurrection detail (on both sides of the work) is shrouded in darkness rather than in an illusionistic, symbolic light. Indeed, the present work plainly traffics in the iconography of Crucifixion--helpless arms, wooden planks, nails, and the very phrase "perilous night"--as well as of redemption (the Resurrection). These elements are heightened by the diptych format, which allows Perilous Night to resemble an altarpiece.
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www.nga.gov/about/welcome-to-the-east-building.html
The East Building opened in 1978 in response to the changing needs of the National Gallery, mainly to house a growing collection of modern and contemporary art. The building itself is a modern masterpiece. The site's trapezoidal shape prompted architect I.M. Pei's dramatic approach: two interlocking spaces shaped like triangles provide room for a library, galleries, auditoriums, and administrative offices. Inside the ax-blade-like southwest corner, a colorful, 76-foot-long Alexander Calder mobile dominates the sunlight atrium. Visitors can view a dynamic 500-piece collection of photography, paintings, sculpture, works on paper, and media arts in thought-provoking chronological, thematic, and stylistic arrangements.
Highlights include galleries devoted to Mark Rothko's giant, glowing canvases; Barnett Newman's 14 stark black, gray, and white canvas paintings from The Stations of the Cross, 1958–1966; and several colorful and whimsical Alexander Calder mobiles and sculptures. You can't miss Katharina Fritsch's Hahn/Cock, 2013, a tall blue rooster that appears to stand guard over the street and federal buildings from the roof terrace, which also offers views of the Capitol. The upper-level gallery showcases modern art from 1910 to 1980, including masterpieces by Constantin Brancusi, Marcel Duchamp, Sam Gilliam, Henri Matisse, Joan Miró, Piet Mondrian, Jackson Pollock, and Andy Warhol. Ground-level galleries are devoted to American art from 1900 to 1950, including pieces by George Bellows, Edward Hopper, Georgia O'Keeffe, Charles Sheeler, and Alfred Stieglitz. The concourse level is reserved for rotating special exhibitions.
The East Building Shop is on the concourse level, and the Terrace Café looks out over the atrium from the upper level.
www.theguardian.com/culture/2016/oct/03/national-gallery-...
"The structure asks for its visitors to gradually make their way up from the bottom, moving from the Gallery’s earliest acquisitions like the paintings of French Post-Impressionist Pierre Bonnard to its contemporary work, such as Janine Antoni’s much fussed over “Lick and Lather,” a series of busts composed of chocolate and soap. The bottom floors offer a more traditional viewing experience: small taupe-colored rooms leading to more small taupe-colored rooms. As one moves upward, however, the spaces open up, offering more dramatic and artful exhibition rooms. The largest single aspect of the I.M. Pei-designed building’s renovation has been the addition of a roof terrace flanked by a reimagination two of the three original “tower” rooms of Pei’s design.
On one side is a space dedicated to sculptor Alexander Calder, with gently spinning mobiles of all shapes and sizes delicately cascading from the ceiling. The subtle movements of the fine wire pieces mimic the effect of a slight breeze through wind chimes—it’s both relaxing and slightly mesmerizing, especially when we’re used to art that stands stock still. Delight is a relatively rare emotion to emerge in a museum, making it all the more compelling.
But it’s the tower space on the other side—a divided hexagonal room—that caused several visitors to gasp as I surveyed it. On one side of the division (the room you enter from the roof terrace) hang Barnett Newman’s fourteen “Stations of the Cross,” the human-sized renderings of secular suffering and pain conceived in conversation with the Bible story. Entirely black and white, with just a tinge of red in the final painting, the series wraps around the viewer, fully encapsulating you in the small but meaningful differentiations between paintings. Hung as a series, the paintings gain a narrative they might otherwise have lost.
The light edging around either side of the room’s division invite the viewer to move from Newman’s chiaroscuric works, which require you to move from painting to painting searching for the scene in each, to a mirror image of that space covered in Mark Rothko’s giant, glowing canvases, which require the viewer to step back and attempt to take in the sight of so much hazy, vivid color all at once. The dichotomy is stark, and yet the paintings all work together somehow, rather than one set repelling the other.
With light filtering through the glass ceiling above, the tower room does feel like a crescendo of sorts, but not in the way many museums’ most famous or valuable pieces often do. The room isn’t dedicated to ensuring that visitors snake their way into the belly of the museum, to first be captured and then let out through the gift shop. Instead, it’s a reminder that in a space dedicated to honoring the modern and the contemporary that the evolution of art remains just as integral as any singular Marilyn Monroe by Andy Warhol or Donald Judd aluminum box. There’s still a story in abstract art."
www.washingtonian.com/2016/09/28/national-gallery-art-eas...
According to some, there's a option to be choose AND one of those options is WRONG..............what do u think?
A potrait of the artisans crafting rattan handicrafts in Lelekaa Village, South Konawe, Southeast Sulawesi. They produce a variety of items for sale, including chairs, tables, basket and beds.
Photo by Khairul Abdi/CIFOR-ICRAF
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