View allAll Photos Tagged existentialism
Le Cimetière du Montparnasse, Paris, France
I headed south to le Cimetière Montparnasse. After the Paris churchyards closed in the 18th century, a full three quarters of a century before the English closed their urban churchyards, four great cemeteries were laid out to the north, east, south and west of the city. Pere Lachaise is the most famous, Montmartre the most aesthetically pleasing, but Montparnasse probably the most interesting. I spent about three hours and three hundred photographs pottering about. Some of the famous graves are easy to find because they are well documented, and visitors have placed tributes on them. For example, the first grave I went in search of, Samuel Beckett's, has metro tickets placed on it by visitors as a mark of having waited for something.
I already knew where Beckett's grave was, but two others in the same section were more difficult, as I did not have exact locations. I eventually found the grave of Phillipe Noiret, an actor I very much admired particularly for his role in my favourite film, Cinema Paradiso, but also for his role in Le Cop, which has criminally never had a DVD release with English subtitles. There were no public tributes on it, merely a plaque from his wife saying 'pour mon Cher Philippe' and a picture of a horse. While I was photographing it, four gendarmes, two men and two women, passed behind me and came across to see why I was photographing it. "Noiret!" exclaimed one of the men, and then "mais pourquoi le cheval?" wondered one of the women. But they didn't stop for me to explain, for I had read an article about Noiret about fifteen years previously in a copy of La Nouvelle Observateur while staying in a hotel in Boulogne, and I knew that he had bred horses in his spare time.
The other grave I had hoped to find in this section was that of Susan Sontag, but I couldn't track it down.
The joint headstone of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir is easily found by the main entrance, and I thought it rather sweet that they were remembered together. Despite all their efforts for existentialism and feminism, it was like a headstone in a quiet English churchyard which might have 'reunited' or 'together in eternity' inscribed on it. I think he wasn't pleasant company, and while she was certainly more intelligent than he was she made intellectual arrogance respectable. I photographed their headstone more out of interest than admiration.
Admiration was at the heart of my search for a gravestone lost in sections 6 and 7 which I think is not found often. It is for the surrealist photographer Man Ray. I was delighted to find it after barely 20 minutes searching. He designed it himself, and in his own handwriting into the cement it says 'unconcerned, but not indifferent', which could be taken as rebuff to Satre and his circle I suppose. Charmingly, beside it like the other half of a book is a photograph of him with his wife and the inscription 'Juliet Man Ray 1911-1991, together again'. Enough to leave De Beauvoir spluttering into her Pernod.
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Le Cimetière du Montparnasse, Paris, France
I headed south to le Cimetière Montparnasse. After the Paris churchyards closed in the 18th century, a full three quarters of a century before the English closed their urban churchyards, four great cemeteries were laid out to the north, east, south and west of the city. Pere Lachaise is the most famous, Montmartre the most aesthetically pleasing, but Montparnasse probably the most interesting. I spent about three hours and three hundred photographs pottering about. Some of the famous graves are easy to find because they are well documented, and visitors have placed tributes on them. For example, the first grave I went in search of, Samuel Beckett's, has metro tickets placed on it by visitors as a mark of having waited for something.
I already knew where Beckett's grave was, but two others in the same section were more difficult, as I did not have exact locations. I eventually found the grave of Phillipe Noiret, an actor I very much admired particularly for his role in my favourite film, Cinema Paradiso, but also for his role in Le Cop, which has criminally never had a DVD release with English subtitles. There were no public tributes on it, merely a plaque from his wife saying 'pour mon Cher Philippe' and a picture of a horse. While I was photographing it, four gendarmes, two men and two women, passed behind me and came across to see why I was photographing it. "Noiret!" exclaimed one of the men, and then "mais pourquoi le cheval?" wondered one of the women. But they didn't stop for me to explain, for I had read an article about Noiret about fifteen years previously in a copy of La Nouvelle Observateur while staying in a hotel in Boulogne, and I knew that he had bred horses in his spare time.
The other grave I had hoped to find in this section was that of Susan Sontag, but I couldn't track it down.
The joint headstone of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir is easily found by the main entrance, and I thought it rather sweet that they were remembered together. Despite all their efforts for existentialism and feminism, it was like a headstone in a quiet English churchyard which might have 'reunited' or 'together in eternity' inscribed on it. I think he wasn't pleasant company, and while she was certainly more intelligent than he was she made intellectual arrogance respectable. I photographed their headstone more out of interest than admiration.
Admiration was at the heart of my search for a gravestone lost in sections 6 and 7 which I think is not found often. It is for the surrealist photographer Man Ray. I was delighted to find it after barely 20 minutes searching. He designed it himself, and in his own handwriting into the cement it says 'unconcerned, but not indifferent', which could be taken as rebuff to Satre and his circle I suppose. Charmingly, beside it like the other half of a book is a photograph of him with his wife and the inscription 'Juliet Man Ray 1911-1991, together again'. Enough to leave De Beauvoir spluttering into her Pernod.
You can read my account of my travels at pariswander.blogspot.co.uk.
Selected photos and materials from the studio of Francis Bacon.
Exhibition view "Francis Bacon and Existential Condition in Contemporary Art", CCC Strozzina, Palazzo Strozzi, Firenze
© photo Martino Margheri
Le Cimetière du Montparnasse, Paris, France
I headed south to le Cimetière Montparnasse. After the Paris churchyards closed in the 18th century, a full three quarters of a century before the English closed their urban churchyards, four great cemeteries were laid out to the north, east, south and west of the city. Pere Lachaise is the most famous, Montmartre the most aesthetically pleasing, but Montparnasse probably the most interesting. I spent about three hours and three hundred photographs pottering about. Some of the famous graves are easy to find because they are well documented, and visitors have placed tributes on them. For example, the first grave I went in search of, Samuel Beckett's, has metro tickets placed on it by visitors as a mark of having waited for something.
I already knew where Beckett's grave was, but two others in the same section were more difficult, as I did not have exact locations. I eventually found the grave of Phillipe Noiret, an actor I very much admired particularly for his role in my favourite film, Cinema Paradiso, but also for his role in Le Cop, which has criminally never had a DVD release with English subtitles. There were no public tributes on it, merely a plaque from his wife saying 'pour mon Cher Philippe' and a picture of a horse. While I was photographing it, four gendarmes, two men and two women, passed behind me and came across to see why I was photographing it. "Noiret!" exclaimed one of the men, and then "mais pourquoi le cheval?" wondered one of the women. But they didn't stop for me to explain, for I had read an article about Noiret about fifteen years previously in a copy of La Nouvelle Observateur while staying in a hotel in Boulogne, and I knew that he had bred horses in his spare time.
The other grave I had hoped to find in this section was that of Susan Sontag, but I couldn't track it down.
The joint headstone of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir is easily found by the main entrance, and I thought it rather sweet that they were remembered together. Despite all their efforts for existentialism and feminism, it was like a headstone in a quiet English churchyard which might have 'reunited' or 'together in eternity' inscribed on it. I think he wasn't pleasant company, and while she was certainly more intelligent than he was she made intellectual arrogance respectable. I photographed their headstone more out of interest than admiration.
Admiration was at the heart of my search for a gravestone lost in sections 6 and 7 which I think is not found often. It is for the surrealist photographer Man Ray. I was delighted to find it after barely 20 minutes searching. He designed it himself, and in his own handwriting into the cement it says 'unconcerned, but not indifferent', which could be taken as rebuff to Satre and his circle I suppose. Charmingly, beside it like the other half of a book is a photograph of him with his wife and the inscription 'Juliet Man Ray 1911-1991, together again'. Enough to leave De Beauvoir spluttering into her Pernod.
You can read my account of my travels at pariswander.blogspot.co.uk.
Le Cimetière du Montparnasse, Paris, France
I headed south to le Cimetière Montparnasse. After the Paris churchyards closed in the 18th century, a full three quarters of a century before the English closed their urban churchyards, four great cemeteries were laid out to the north, east, south and west of the city. Pere Lachaise is the most famous, Montmartre the most aesthetically pleasing, but Montparnasse probably the most interesting. I spent about three hours and three hundred photographs pottering about. Some of the famous graves are easy to find because they are well documented, and visitors have placed tributes on them. For example, the first grave I went in search of, Samuel Beckett's, has metro tickets placed on it by visitors as a mark of having waited for something.
I already knew where Beckett's grave was, but two others in the same section were more difficult, as I did not have exact locations. I eventually found the grave of Phillipe Noiret, an actor I very much admired particularly for his role in my favourite film, Cinema Paradiso, but also for his role in Le Cop, which has criminally never had a DVD release with English subtitles. There were no public tributes on it, merely a plaque from his wife saying 'pour mon Cher Philippe' and a picture of a horse. While I was photographing it, four gendarmes, two men and two women, passed behind me and came across to see why I was photographing it. "Noiret!" exclaimed one of the men, and then "mais pourquoi le cheval?" wondered one of the women. But they didn't stop for me to explain, for I had read an article about Noiret about fifteen years previously in a copy of La Nouvelle Observateur while staying in a hotel in Boulogne, and I knew that he had bred horses in his spare time.
The other grave I had hoped to find in this section was that of Susan Sontag, but I couldn't track it down.
The joint headstone of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir is easily found by the main entrance, and I thought it rather sweet that they were remembered together. Despite all their efforts for existentialism and feminism, it was like a headstone in a quiet English churchyard which might have 'reunited' or 'together in eternity' inscribed on it. I think he wasn't pleasant company, and while she was certainly more intelligent than he was she made intellectual arrogance respectable. I photographed their headstone more out of interest than admiration.
Admiration was at the heart of my search for a gravestone lost in sections 6 and 7 which I think is not found often. It is for the surrealist photographer Man Ray. I was delighted to find it after barely 20 minutes searching. He designed it himself, and in his own handwriting into the cement it says 'unconcerned, but not indifferent', which could be taken as rebuff to Satre and his circle I suppose. Charmingly, beside it like the other half of a book is a photograph of him with his wife and the inscription 'Juliet Man Ray 1911-1991, together again'. Enough to leave De Beauvoir spluttering into her Pernod.
You can read my account of my travels at pariswander.blogspot.co.uk.
Woman of Venice, 1956
Alberto Giacometti (Swiss, 1901–1966)
Painted bronze
Description:
Early in 1956, in preparation for exhibitions of his work at the Venice Biennale and the Kunsthalle in Bern, Giacometti produced a large group of plaster sculptures of female figures. Ten of these were shown in Venice and five in Bern. Of the fifteen, only nine were later cast in bronze. They became known as the "Women of Venice", regardless of whether the plaster version had been exhibited in Venice or in Bern. The thin, gaunt bronzes are all between forty-one and fifty-two inches high, but they seem much taller. Supported on stilt-like legs held tightly together, the figures stand motionless. All have tiny heads and enormous feet, which anchor their extremely emaciated, concave bodies on plinths of varying thicknesses. The figures look as if they have withstood centuries of rough weather, which has left their surfaces crusty and eroded.
Metropolitan Museum of Art
NYC
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around for a while, you could miss it." - Ferris Bueller
For six word story, and everyone else that used to be a kid and knows how true this six word story is only now, as an "adult".
: D
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… the smile of the red balloon … *
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Photo: Patricia Adler
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Wolfgang Sterneck:
In the Cracks of the World *
Photo-Reports: www.flickr.com/sterneck/sets
Articles and Visions: www.sterneck.net
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Week 2 Dogs (2) (1006 – 1010)10/06 – 10/10/2019 ID 1009
Henry Koerner American (born in Vienna, Austria), 1915-1991
Under the Overpass, 1949
Oil on Masonite
In 1938, Henry Koerner immigrated to America from Vienna to escape persecution by the Nazis. Koerner later learned that his family members were among the millions of Jews who were systematically murdered in Nazi concentration camps during the Second World War. The artist described how that personal trauma and the general destruction wrought by the violence and chaos of the war made him feel that “Reality had turned into surreality…’normal’ life into existentialism.”
Under the Overpass is a meditation on the transience of life and pain of loss and death. The changing colors of the leaves and the streaks of rust on the overpass evoke time and decay. What looks like an urban streetcar or trolley could represent the train that transported the Koerner family to the concentration camp. Scholars believe the artist’s mother is the crying woman in the yellow dress as well as the woman on the train (sitting next to his father). The scene is intentionally ambiguous. His magic realist style—visible in the painting’s hyper-realistic details, improbable shifts in scale, and elimination of shadows—creates a low-frequency sense of confusion and unease in the viewer.
Marion Stratton Gould Fund, 2012.33
From the Placard: Memorial Art Gallery, Rochester, New York
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Koerner
Prof. dr. Ruud Welten over "Sartre and De Beauvoir: Existentialism in activist times", een boeiende Studium Generale met interessante discussie erna.
Le Cimetière du Montparnasse, Paris, France
I headed south to le Cimetière Montparnasse. After the Paris churchyards closed in the 18th century, a full three quarters of a century before the English closed their urban churchyards, four great cemeteries were laid out to the north, east, south and west of the city. Pere Lachaise is the most famous, Montmartre the most aesthetically pleasing, but Montparnasse probably the most interesting. I spent about three hours and three hundred photographs pottering about. Some of the famous graves are easy to find because they are well documented, and visitors have placed tributes on them. For example, the first grave I went in search of, Samuel Beckett's, has metro tickets placed on it by visitors as a mark of having waited for something.
I already knew where Beckett's grave was, but two others in the same section were more difficult, as I did not have exact locations. I eventually found the grave of Phillipe Noiret, an actor I very much admired particularly for his role in my favourite film, Cinema Paradiso, but also for his role in Le Cop, which has criminally never had a DVD release with English subtitles. There were no public tributes on it, merely a plaque from his wife saying 'pour mon Cher Philippe' and a picture of a horse. While I was photographing it, four gendarmes, two men and two women, passed behind me and came across to see why I was photographing it. "Noiret!" exclaimed one of the men, and then "mais pourquoi le cheval?" wondered one of the women. But they didn't stop for me to explain, for I had read an article about Noiret about fifteen years previously in a copy of La Nouvelle Observateur while staying in a hotel in Boulogne, and I knew that he had bred horses in his spare time.
The other grave I had hoped to find in this section was that of Susan Sontag, but I couldn't track it down.
The joint headstone of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir is easily found by the main entrance, and I thought it rather sweet that they were remembered together. Despite all their efforts for existentialism and feminism, it was like a headstone in a quiet English churchyard which might have 'reunited' or 'together in eternity' inscribed on it. I think he wasn't pleasant company, and while she was certainly more intelligent than he was she made intellectual arrogance respectable. I photographed their headstone more out of interest than admiration.
Admiration was at the heart of my search for a gravestone lost in sections 6 and 7 which I think is not found often. It is for the surrealist photographer Man Ray. I was delighted to find it after barely 20 minutes searching. He designed it himself, and in his own handwriting into the cement it says 'unconcerned, but not indifferent', which could be taken as rebuff to Satre and his circle I suppose. Charmingly, beside it like the other half of a book is a photograph of him with his wife and the inscription 'Juliet Man Ray 1911-1991, together again'. Enough to leave De Beauvoir spluttering into her Pernod.
You can read my account of my travels at pariswander.blogspot.co.uk.
Le Cimetière du Montparnasse, Paris, France
I headed south to le Cimetière Montparnasse. After the Paris churchyards closed in the 18th century, a full three quarters of a century before the English closed their urban churchyards, four great cemeteries were laid out to the north, east, south and west of the city. Pere Lachaise is the most famous, Montmartre the most aesthetically pleasing, but Montparnasse probably the most interesting. I spent about three hours and three hundred photographs pottering about. Some of the famous graves are easy to find because they are well documented, and visitors have placed tributes on them. For example, the first grave I went in search of, Samuel Beckett's, has metro tickets placed on it by visitors as a mark of having waited for something.
I already knew where Beckett's grave was, but two others in the same section were more difficult, as I did not have exact locations. I eventually found the grave of Phillipe Noiret, an actor I very much admired particularly for his role in my favourite film, Cinema Paradiso, but also for his role in Le Cop, which has criminally never had a DVD release with English subtitles. There were no public tributes on it, merely a plaque from his wife saying 'pour mon Cher Philippe' and a picture of a horse. While I was photographing it, four gendarmes, two men and two women, passed behind me and came across to see why I was photographing it. "Noiret!" exclaimed one of the men, and then "mais pourquoi le cheval?" wondered one of the women. But they didn't stop for me to explain, for I had read an article about Noiret about fifteen years previously in a copy of La Nouvelle Observateur while staying in a hotel in Boulogne, and I knew that he had bred horses in his spare time.
The other grave I had hoped to find in this section was that of Susan Sontag, but I couldn't track it down.
The joint headstone of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir is easily found by the main entrance, and I thought it rather sweet that they were remembered together. Despite all their efforts for existentialism and feminism, it was like a headstone in a quiet English churchyard which might have 'reunited' or 'together in eternity' inscribed on it. I think he wasn't pleasant company, and while she was certainly more intelligent than he was she made intellectual arrogance respectable. I photographed their headstone more out of interest than admiration.
Admiration was at the heart of my search for a gravestone lost in sections 6 and 7 which I think is not found often. It is for the surrealist photographer Man Ray. I was delighted to find it after barely 20 minutes searching. He designed it himself, and in his own handwriting into the cement it says 'unconcerned, but not indifferent', which could be taken as rebuff to Satre and his circle I suppose. Charmingly, beside it like the other half of a book is a photograph of him with his wife and the inscription 'Juliet Man Ray 1911-1991, together again'. Enough to leave De Beauvoir spluttering into her Pernod.
You can read my account of my travels at pariswander.blogspot.co.uk.
I have been thinking quite a lot about astrology. Specifically, astrology/horoscopes. Zodiac signs. It's kind of been infuriating me, to be honest. Because I've spent the last 10+ years studying various things in science, as well as spirituality, consciousness and existentialism. As I have developed a better understanding of each of these things, I have come to realize what so many people seem to completely miss.
When it comes to science and spirituality, we really have to watch the language that we use when discussing them. So much of it just comes down to this. I actually talked about this a little bit elsewhere in another blog post - The Truth Theory. I pretty much touched on the idea of "truth" not just being empirical, and that there are different kinds of truths. We can't use scientific language to talk about intersubjective experiences, it doesn't quite work.
This is where astrology and signs come in. I'm just gonna explain all of this the best way I know how. This might just sound like the ramblings of an idiot. It might be a bit sloppy but I'll try to make it as coherent and cohesive as possible.
The position of the sun or moon does influence life on Earth. Life would not be what it is now without the moon pulling on our planet, keeping its rotational axis from shifting around and causing big, sporadic changes in seasonal temperatures. That's fine. What I have a problem with is the notion that this same science somehow affects your personality in the same way. Because at that point, we're talking about two completely different domains. 3rd person, empirical science and 1st person, intersubjective consciousness.
There's a natural law that the physical world has to uphold, one that it is not allowed to stray from. And though I as a human being am part of that physical world and am in it, my emotions do not work the same way.
When we talk about things within that 3rd person, objective domain, there is a certain language we use. Like the world location, for example. Physical objects have a location - planets, moons, stars, etc. The Earth. However, anger and pettiness do not have a location. Emotions do not have a location. Because they're not objects.
Emotions are strictly a 1st person, conscious experience that is characterized by intense mental activity - temperament, personality, mood - it's all within that 1st person, intersubjective domain. No location, and no, they're not located in the brain because if they were, you'd be able to cut my brain open and physically touch them and slap them down on a table to examine objectively.
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You can hook me up to a machine and see that I have certain brain activity while experiencing these emotions, but you can't simply reduce them to brain activity. I can see an apple in my head but if you look in my brain, you won't see an apple. Science can't account for this. This is my intersubjective consciousness and it does not play by those rules. So how can these things operate the same way as things in the 3rd person, objective domain?
Because they would have to, if the idea of your personality being impacted by astrology is true. If horoscopes are true. But if we can't use scientific language to talk about emotions - if I can't use terminology like "location," length," "width," height," 'distance," "weight," etc. to discuss emotions, anger, jealousy, happiness...how can they be affected by the location of the moon? There's no correlation. There's no connection. How are they connected?
These two things do not operate by the same laws. My emotions are not a scientific law, they're not bound to any of that. You can't even point to them, you can't hear, smell, taste, touch or see them. In that sense, they have no connection to the physical realm.
"No, but, the same way the location of the moon causes tidal effects on Earth, it also affects your mood and personality."
How? How does that work? Emotions don't work the same way the planetary system does. We can't even use the same language and terminology to talk about them. Emotions are not planets, they're not stars. They're not bound to a gravitational pull. Why are you trying to talk about them as if they're objects floating around in space?
You're ignoring my intersubjective, conscious experience - which is not objective, it's not something you can empirically measure like a molecule or an atom or a frog.
You have to think about these things in a different way. Scientific theories require the accumulation of empirical evidence that is consistent with a hypothesis. To talk about emotions, we don't use that same empirical process. So clearly they're not the same thing, they don't operate the same way.
If there's information that contradicts or disproves anything I wrote here, I'd love to read/here it. smj12.com/astrology-objectivity-intersubjectivity/
Le Cimetière du Montparnasse, Paris, France
I headed south to le Cimetière Montparnasse. After the Paris churchyards closed in the 18th century, a full three quarters of a century before the English closed their urban churchyards, four great cemeteries were laid out to the north, east, south and west of the city. Pere Lachaise is the most famous, Montmartre the most aesthetically pleasing, but Montparnasse probably the most interesting. I spent about three hours and three hundred photographs pottering about. Some of the famous graves are easy to find because they are well documented, and visitors have placed tributes on them. For example, the first grave I went in search of, Samuel Beckett's, has metro tickets placed on it by visitors as a mark of having waited for something.
I already knew where Beckett's grave was, but two others in the same section were more difficult, as I did not have exact locations. I eventually found the grave of Phillipe Noiret, an actor I very much admired particularly for his role in my favourite film, Cinema Paradiso, but also for his role in Le Cop, which has criminally never had a DVD release with English subtitles. There were no public tributes on it, merely a plaque from his wife saying 'pour mon Cher Philippe' and a picture of a horse. While I was photographing it, four gendarmes, two men and two women, passed behind me and came across to see why I was photographing it. "Noiret!" exclaimed one of the men, and then "mais pourquoi le cheval?" wondered one of the women. But they didn't stop for me to explain, for I had read an article about Noiret about fifteen years previously in a copy of La Nouvelle Observateur while staying in a hotel in Boulogne, and I knew that he had bred horses in his spare time.
The other grave I had hoped to find in this section was that of Susan Sontag, but I couldn't track it down.
The joint headstone of Jean-Paul Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir is easily found by the main entrance, and I thought it rather sweet that they were remembered together. Despite all their efforts for existentialism and feminism, it was like a headstone in a quiet English churchyard which might have 'reunited' or 'together in eternity' inscribed on it. I think he wasn't pleasant company, and while she was certainly more intelligent than he was she made intellectual arrogance respectable. I photographed their headstone more out of interest than admiration.
Admiration was at the heart of my search for a gravestone lost in sections 6 and 7 which I think is not found often. It is for the surrealist photographer Man Ray. I was delighted to find it after barely 20 minutes searching. He designed it himself, and in his own handwriting into the cement it says 'unconcerned, but not indifferent', which could be taken as rebuff to Satre and his circle I suppose. Charmingly, beside it like the other half of a book is a photograph of him with his wife and the inscription 'Juliet Man Ray 1911-1991, together again'. Enough to leave De Beauvoir spluttering into her Pernod.
Vase 01
To reflect the obsession that takes over when I work with abstractly created motives by just drawing dots, I choose to use everyday objects as well as personal items and over draw them with the dots, to not only give them a new appearance but to also translate the transformation of these objects into something new, almost unrecognizable underneath the pattern. These works are inspired by the very nature of organisms, such as ants, mushroom, plants, parasites etc. that 'take over' an other object or living being, reforming/ recreating it. It also represents ideas of existentialism and existential angst, in which we found ourselves wondering about our existence, searching for explanations and purposes, unable to find satisfying answers and therefore turning our sight into the very moment of the act of creation. In this I aim in my work to capture the feeling of that very act, trying to translate it into the process of deconstructing an object as it is and making it become something else.
nur.nurdan.c@gmail.com
Woman of Venice, 1956
Alberto Giacometti (Swiss, 1901–1966)
Painted bronze
Description:
Early in 1956, in preparation for exhibitions of his work at the Venice Biennale and the Kunsthalle in Bern, Giacometti produced a large group of plaster sculptures of female figures. Ten of these were shown in Venice and five in Bern. Of the fifteen, only nine were later cast in bronze. They became known as the "Women of Venice", regardless of whether the plaster version had been exhibited in Venice or in Bern. The thin, gaunt bronzes are all between forty-one and fifty-two inches high, but they seem much taller. Supported on stilt-like legs held tightly together, the figures stand motionless. All have tiny heads and enormous feet, which anchor their extremely emaciated, concave bodies on plinths of varying thicknesses. The figures look as if they have withstood centuries of rough weather, which has left their surfaces crusty and eroded.
Metropolitan Museum of Art
NYC
Nathalie Djurberg
Exhibition view "Francis Bacon and Existential Condition in Contemporary Art", CCC Strozzina, Palazzo Strozzi, Firenze
© photo Martino Margheri
Adrian Ghenie
Exhibition view "Francis Bacon and Existential Condition in Contemporary Art", CCC Strozzina, Palazzo Strozzi, Firenze
© photo Martino Margheri
Adj.1.sapiens - of or relating to or characteristic of Homo sapiens
Homo sapiens (sp-nz):The modern species of humans.
Just in case this guy stumbles on my picture and still needs help finding out who he is.
Description: His Yearning
Creator: Rotem, Varda
Medium: bronze sculpture
Persistent URL: http://museums.cjh.org/Display.php?irn=15783
Repository: Yeshiva University Museum, 15 West 16th Street, New York, NY 10011
Accession number: 2009.013
Rights Information: No known copyright restrictions; may be subject to third party rights. For more copyright information, click here.
See more information about this image and others at CJH Museum Collections.
Is eating cheese in a car park on a summer afternoon a form of existentialism, because it feels like it?
This image explores the dialectical relationship between time and space, where every presence carries the trace of absence and every moment unfolds through change and contradiction.
KABK Graduation Festival
Den Haag 2016
“Hauch!” Is a complex installation that develops another dimension. Here the walls are no longer only walls, but “heavens crying drama”. The floor loses its most basic function and becomes a source of life represented by the colourful land of acid green. It blends with different texture tonalities of pink, evoking the essence of human flesh. Spaces are defined by elements representing different existentialisms that are brought on the same line through the videos in which a woman carries out daily activities in which pain lurks, associated with the canon of beauty that goes against nature by confusing the human being.
THESIS: A coffee with Anne
The thesis is built through a dialogue between me and an almost fictional character named Anne, a man dressed as a woman that was close to me during my route here at the academy. Everything takes place in a bar, in front of a coffee, where I tell about myself through my fears, my needs, my dreams about my artistic career.
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