View allAll Photos Tagged glutation
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
Cerveza Artesanal, 100% natural Sin Gluten. Estilo Alemán.
Býra Engel es una cerveza ligera, suave, y refrescante, perfecta para servirse bien fría. Descubre la experiencia Býra a través de esta cuidadosa selección de cebadas malteadas, levaduras y lúpulos nobles alemanes que hacen de Býra Engel una cerveza fresca, ligera y suavemente lupulada; con un aroma sutilmente floral y un paladar seco y delicado.
for blanching and freezing in batches. We will be glad of it during the winter for eating with bacon (or vegie alternative) and baked beans - I love cabbage but it just doesnt sound as appetising during the summer when there are peas, beans, spinach and calabresse!
The Models-Freeze
A fun new twist on the classic Linzer tart cookie, made gluten-free!
Recipe and step-by-step tutorial here:
baking911.com/cookies/nut/gluten-free-linzer-blossom-cookies
With the light being so poor and so brief at this time of year I take only a theoretical or "academic" interest in the freight workings ...always small in number... that pass along my local line. Last Monday, however, brought a glut, with three "non-passenger workings" shown on the Realtime Trains website as due in the course of sixteen minutes. After washing up the breakfast things, I zoomed off to one of my usual pine-besieged hang-outs (memo to self: must reconnoitre new vantage-points for coming season), down by the tracks. I only got one halfway decent shot and that was of the regular Mountsorrel-Norwich Trowse (Redland Sidings), which always runs two or three times a week. Before came two locomotives, 57 towing a 37, going from Norwich to March, and afterwards a Norwich Trowse-Wembley "Eur Frgt Ops Cntrl" ...which, I conjecture, must be Europort Freight (or Freightliner) Operations Control. Others may know better. By the time it was twenty minutes overdue I got fed up and started walking back to the car. Naturally it appeared as soon as I was out of position. The train was composed of wagons like these, so probably stone. It occurred to me while I was waiting that railway track no longer exudes that wonderful oily, resinous smell it used to have. I don't think this is entirely due to the disappearance of timber sleepers, although it obviously didn't help. The last time I remember experiencing that olfactory delight was at Yatton station, some time during the nineties. This was long after those Dow-Mac concrete sleepers had become general.
I froze a load of chinese containers of roasted tomatoes last weekend. Great way of turning a glut into a really useful ingredient for soups and sauces.
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
... unter den Flügeln entströmt der Gesang der Grille,
wann sie die dumpf über dem Feld lagernde Glut bezaubert
Sappho
ca. 600 v. Chr.
Ihr, die ihr los zu sein begehrt
1.) Ihr, die ihr los zu sein begehrt
Von euren Missetaten,
Heut hat sich Gott zu uns gekehrt
Und will uns Armen raten.
Er äußert sich der Herrlichkeit
Und will uns an Gebärden (a)
Ähnlich werden,
Deswegen dann sich freut
Der Himmel samt der Erden.
2.) Er ist uns gleich an Fleisch und Blut,
Uns also zu vertreten.
Er hat hierdurch uns vor der Glut
Der Höllen losgebeten.
Und wird der Himmels Bürgerschaft
Uns nachmals einverleiben,
Dass wir bleiben
Da, wo der Freuden Kraft
Wird alles Leid vertreiben.
3.) Drum kommt, lasst uns mit Freuden gehn
Und unsern Heiland schauen,
Lasst uns vor seiner Krippen stehn
Und ihm von Herzen trauen.
Er wird aus seiner Mutter Schoß
Die Ärmlein nach uns strecken
Und erwecken,
Was von der Sünden floss
Uns ewig wird bedecken.
(a) Verhalten, Erscheinung, Benehmen, Betragen (vgl. das vielleicht bekantere Wort 'Gebaren')
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Autor: Simon Dach
Melodie: ohne Angaben
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Der Text wurde von mir behutsam, soweit
es die Strophenform und der Endreim zu-
ließen, in heutiges Hochdeutsch übertragen
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
gefunden in:
Das deutsche evangelische Kirchenlied
des siebzehnten Jahrhunderts
Herausgegeben von Albert Fischer und W. Tümpel
Dritter Band
Druck und Verlag C. Bertelsmann
Gütersloh, 1906
Liednummer 100
Thema: Weihnachten
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Simon Dach (* 29. Juli 1605 in Memel (einer Hafenstadt in Litauen); † 15. April 1659 in Königsberg) war ein deutscher Dichter der Barockzeit.
Simon Dach war der Sohn eines Gerichtsdolmetschers für Litauisch. Er besuchte die Domschule in Königsberg und wechselte dann auf die Lateinschule nach Wittenberg. Während seines Aufenthalts auf dem Gymnasium in Magdeburg brach die Pest aus, und er floh über Danzig zurück nach Königsberg. Mit 21 Jahren immatrikulierte sich Dach 1626 an der Universität Königsberg für die Fächer Philosophie und Theologie. Nach seinem Studium wurde er 1633 zunächst Lehrer an der Domschule, drei Jahre später Konrektor.
Sein Freund Adrian Brauer eröffnete ihm die Welt der Literatur und Kurfürst Georg Wilhelm von Brandenburg ernannte Dach 1639 zum Professor für Dichtkunst an der Universität Königsberg. 1640 promovierte Dach in Königsberg, 1656 wurde er Rektor der Universität. Auf diesem Posten war er derart erfolgreich, dass der Große Kurfürst ihm zwei Jahre später zum Dank das Landgut Kuikeim (bei Königsberg) schenkte.
Dachs phänomenale Produktion an Poesie zu allen Anlässen bot ihm ein lukratives Nebeneinkommen. Mit erstaunlicher Fertigkeit produzierte er laufend auf Bestellung sog. Kasualdichtungen, die stets gedruckt wurden, nicht selten drei oder vier pro Woche. 1200 Einzeldrucke dieser Gedichte kamen allein in den Jahren zwischen 1638 und 1658 zusammen, die von den Zeitgenossen eifrig gesammelt wurden. Ein Buch hat Dach nie veröffentlicht.
Von der weltlichen Lyrik Dachs hat nur ‚Anke van Tharaw’ (hochdeutsch: ‚Ännchen von Tharau’) die Zeit überdauert. Viele geistliche Gedichte Dachs wurden von Heinrich Albert, Johann Stobäus, Johann Sebastian Bach und Max Reger vertont. Mit 49 Jahren erkrankte Simon Dach 1654 an Schwindsucht und starb er am 15. April 1659 in Königsberg.
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¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º°´°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸
Simon Dachs Lieder/ Hymns
¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º°´°º¤ø,¸¸,ø¤º°`°º¤ø,¸
Ach Gott, wie gnädig hast du doch
Ach, frommer Gott, wo soll ich hin
Ach, lasst uns Gott doch einzig leben
Ach, wie verkehrt es sich so sehr
Alle Güter, die wir haben. Kunst, Gesundheit, Ehr und Geld
Alles lauft mit mir zu Ende
Auch diese Nacht hat sich verloren
Bei diesem hochbetrübten Leben
Bei dieser Sterbenssucht
Bleib du nur fest an Gottes Wort
Das Leid ist hier, da sehen wir
Der Mai, des Jahres Herz, beginnt
Der Mensch hat nichts so eigen
Der Nacht Gefahr und Grauen
Der Tag beginnet zu vergehen
Der Tag hat auch sein Ende
Des Herren Güte macht allein
Die große Nichtigkeit der kurzen Lebenszeit
Die Lust hat mich gezwungen zu fahren
Die Seele des Gerechten ist befreit von Angst, Betrug und List
Dies ist, was dir zu Ehren, Gott unser Einfalt singt
Du Gott bist außer aller Zeit
Du hast mich wund geschlagen
Du Menschenkind, erschrick und wach all Augenblick
Du o getreue Mutter, Erde
Du siehest, Mensch, wie fort und fort
Eh als wir aus der Höllen des finstern Körpers
Ei, so gebt Gott allezeit nun auch Lob
Ein Mann von gutem Rath
Eitle Welt, o kurze Zeit, dort vor der langen Ewigkeit
Entschlag dich aller Ding auf Erden
Es bild ein Mensch ihm niemals ein
Es vergeht mir alle Lust, länger hier zu leben
Gerechter Gott, wo will es hin
Gleichwohl hab ich überwunden
Gott herrschet und hält bei uns Haus
Gott, du hast unser gnug begehrt
Gott, unsre Zuflucht in der Not
Halt aus, mein Herz, und sei bescheiden
Herr der lichten Seraphinen
Herr Jesu, nur dein Blut und Tod
Herr Jesu, Trost in aller Not
Herr wir wallen sämtlich dir, weil der Leib
Herr, deine Treu und Güte reicht
Herr, du tust, was dir gefällt
Herr, es mangelt nicht an dir
Herr, ich denk an jene Zeit, wenn ich diesem Pilgerleben
Herr, wohin soll ich mich wenden
Hier habt ihr, ihr Jungfrauen
Ich armer Würmerraub
Ich bin ja, Herr, in deiner Macht
Ich kenn ein Haus nach dieser Zeit
Ich will aus voller Seelen
Ihr Preußen auf, und kommt zu Hauf
Ihr Seelen, die ihr durch den Tod
Ihr, die ihr los zu sein begehret
In dieser meiner letzten Not
Indem jetzt meine Seele schaut
Je mehr wir Jahre zählen
Jesu, Quell gewünschter Freuden
Jetzund heben Wald und Feld
Kein Christ soll ihm die Rechnung machen
Lass sterben, was bald sterben kann
Leget euch im Frieden nieder
Mein Abschied aus der bösen Welt
Mensch, du siehst fast alle Stunden
Nachdem die schnöde Missetat
Nimm dich, o meine Seel, in Acht
Nimm mich weg, Gott, vor dem Jammer
Nimm nichts zu tun in deinen Sinn
O Christe, Schutzherr deiner Glieder
O eitle Welt. o kurze Zeit
O Gott, einst lässest du mich hin
O teures Blut, o rote Flut, wie quillst du
O wie groß ist doch der Mann
O wie selig seid ihr doch, ihr Frommen
O, wer doch überwunden hätte
Raffet auch der Tod die greisen Haare
Schöner Himmelssaal, Vaterland der Frommen
Sei getrost, o meine Seele
Sei, meine Seele, in dich gestellt
Selige Ewigkeit, Lohn der Himmels-Erben
So gänzlich ist auf nichts allhier zu bauen
So viel wir Jahre zählen, so viel der Jahre
Soll ich das Elend und Beschwer
Soll mein Geist gebücket gehen
Tod, du aller Sorgen Ruh
Vater, deine Rut hab ich geschmecket
War dieses nicht mein Hoffen
Was haben wir zu sorgen
Was hat ein frommer Christ doch Not
Was ich heut von dir gebeten
Was ist Zeit und Welt
Was klagt man der Gerechten Seelen
Was lachst du, Pöbel, der Gemüter
Was soll ein Christ sich fressen
Was sollen wir denn machen
Was stehn und weinen wir zu Hauf
Was suchst du schändliche Begier
Was willst du, armes Leben, dich trotzig
Wen hab ich, Herr, als dich allein
Wenn Drangsal und Gefahr
Wenn Gott von allem Bösen und dieser Lebensnot
Wer auf Gottes Wegen wandelt
Wer die Weisheit ihm erkoren
Wer hier zu etwas kommen will
Wer wegen seiner Sünden zum Herren
Wer weiß Bescheid, der Sterblichkeit
Wer, o Jesu, deine Wunden stets für seine Ruhstätt hält
Wie ist Gott abermal im Zorn auf mich entbrannt
Wie selig ist, dem Gott verliehen
Wir haben, Herr, ein festes Wort
Wir klagen überall
Wir sehn jetzt sich erfreuen
Wo lebt ein Mensch auf Erden
Wohl dem, der sich nur lässt begnügen
Wohlauf, ich bin entfahren
Womit wird die Zeit verbracht
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
Continuing the glut of J3 photos with more from another visit and different elements of the design... including cake
Sorry folks, for the glut of shorebird shots, but you know...I just can't help but click over 500 shots when I see them. They move so quickly through the shallows, gathering food and every shot is a new pose. Enjoy...and oh, I will be going back whenever the sun comes back to see if I can spot any other peeps out there.
]Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
Vampir Horror-Roman / Heft-Reihe
Donald F. Glut / Frankensteins Kampf mit Dracula
Originaltitel: Frankenstein And The Evil Of Dracula
cover: Prieto Muriana
Erich Pabel Verlag
(Rastatt / Deutschland; 1980)
ex libris MTP
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
POLITICAL BROUHAHA IN A METROPOLITAN FOG PATCH
Baroness Vadera, UK Business Minister, controversially claimed today to see green shoots of economic recovery and justified the claim because a big bond issue succeeded in the City (after so many earlier ones have gone nowhere). It seems that Tesco is continuing to open new stores and hire new staff; so some of us must be buying food (though maybe less of the Finest) along with cheaper-than-ever TVs to replace meals out and West End shows... and to monitor news of the credit crunch. But the Economy is shrinking (The ONS and the Daily Mail actually contrive to agree on that) ONS and Purchasing Managers are ordering less from manufacturers. House prices continue a downward trend and the oil price is 74% down on a year ago (though we have not felt all the gain because the Treasury is trying to pay for all its new obligations by not reducing the tax burden on it except in proportional line with the pump price)..
Her claim about green shoots invited political derision from the Tory Party (whose Chancellor carelessly used the expression during another lesser downturn nearly 20 years ago) plus embarrased wriggles from Peter Mandelson.. Perhaps she is in for some gardening leave. But my Kentish green shoots are visibly real and growing, even if they slow in the next inevitable cold snap. Nature's cycle is on the up and the days ARE getting steadily longer. It was bright and sunny in Kent while Westminster was shrouded in fog today. But it's still pretty dark till 8AM and at 4PM and there's a long way to go. The banking crisis-led economic downturn still has a away to go...... as have the prospects for any green shoots of political recovery for the Labour Party.
Meanwhile, I do love the smell of hyacinths and the bright Easter glow of daffodils and tulips. So smile and keep spending, at least on fertilizer, and use your unemployed hours to grow turnips for your suppers! This may not be the only natural cyclical winter before the next Economic Spring. But we can still enjoy carrot stews year round and maybe assemble around our long-disused card-games and pianos as a source of cheer to replace our exotic foreign holidays. Thought of joining a local yoga class or choir to get on tip-top condition in time for the next year you can afford to vist the Euro zone? or maybe it's time to stay home and make babies or nurture your grand-children. But remember that they are a long-term commitment and you mustn't repeat the illusion that you can borrow to finance your kids' futures. or even your own. Happy 2009... and 2010 .... and 2011... and all nature's summers before the next frothy self-delusional economic one!
Oh... and HOPE also arrives next week in the over-burdened form of President Obama. What a raw moment for a new deal!
blogs.ft.com/westminster/2009/01/echoes-of-norman-lamont-...
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Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
Image from, “He-Man and The Power Sword” Masters of the Universe Mini Comics by Mattel, 1981. Story by Donald Glut, original art work by Alfredo Alcala.
If there was ever a toy line that won me over based purely on its art work it was The Masters of the Universe. The pulp fiction dark fantasy illustrations that adorned the packaging promised high adventure for the characters within. At the impressionable age of seven the inspiring art work of William George, Rudy Obrero, Earl Norem, and Alfredo Alcala’s brilliant water color vignettes formed my earliest impressions of Eternia. It was a haunting introduction. The savage, arcane, other worldly realm of Eternia with its looming, spooky, unclaimed relic of ancient magic entranced me. The promotional art compounded with those inaugural four stories packed in with the eight cardinal action figures became what Masters of the Universe meant to me. I have very fond memories of playing with the first couple waves of figures. Together we explored the mysteries of Castle Grayskull on my living room floor.
For everyone who at one point or another, stirred the cauldron of the Masters of the Universe brand with their genius and hard work over the decades, from the late Mark Taylor and Roger Sweet to Scott Neitlich and The Four Horsemen,
Slainte!
12.15.2018 1:30 A.M. EST
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
I love gluts because I love freezing stuff for the winter. We have a chest freezer in the garrage & I aim to have it full of frozen veg for the winter each year. We have been eating away at the broad beans- they are one of my favourite vegetables but its impossible to eat them all and they will tast great in the dark days in the middle of winter.
I also froze a load of cabbage and some cauliflowers yesterday.