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Stiftung André Heller
Kunst, Botanischer Garten, Gardone-Riviera
Heute gehört der Garten zur Stiftung des österreichischen Künstlers André Heller. Er hat zu den vielen Pflanzen Kunstwerke verschiedener bedeutender Künstler aus aller Welt (z.B. Keith Haring) gesellt, die aus dem Botanischen Garten nun einen Kunstgarten machen. André Heller selbst nutzt die e Villa als Wohnhaus, wenn er am Gardasee weilt.
The history of Dublin's Hell-Fire Club, Rathfarnham. Overlooking Dublin city from the south west, at an altitude of 383m (1264ft), is a foreboding ruined hunting lodge, marked on Ordnance Survey maps as the 'Hell-Fire Club'. Current urban lore insists on telling us that it was - and still is - a site commonly used for the practice of 'Satanism' and other occult activities, and that the Devil himself made a brief appearance there at some unspecified time in the past. In a story similar to the one attached to Loftus Hall (a haunted house on the Hook Peninsula), a mysterious stranger seeks shelter on a stormy night, and a card game ensues. A member of the household drops a card, and sees that below the table, the otherwise affable and charming visitor has a cloven hoof. His or her screams made the Devil 'aware of her discovery, and he at once vanished in a thunder-clap leaving a brimstone smell behind him' (Seymour and Neligan).
Fotos para el Web Magazine The Concert in Concert (www.theconcertinconcert.com/) Kreator + Arch Enemy + Hell + Drone - La Riviera - Madrid - 29/11/14
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Hells Gate is an abrupt narrowing of British Columbia's Fraser River, located immediately downstream of Boston Bar in the southern Fraser Canyon. The towering rock walls of the Fraser River plunge toward each other forcing the waters through a passage only 35 metres (115 ft) wide.
Fuck Moxie and her impossible Underdome.
In a fit rage the other night I snatched my Borderlands disc from the console.
And because of my psychotic lapse I now have a corrupted save/data file.
My Level 41 Soldier is officially discharged.
And all my ramped up mega-guns, special regeneration shields,
skill points and unlimited ammo that I busted my ass to get last year
are all lost down the toilet.
Because I snapped--and snatched.
I'm still in a little shock, actually, as I have never lost a save file/game data before.
Oh well. At least I got to complete Jakobs Cove before this terminal mishap.
I don't like to be a quitter but
I should have dumped Moxie's slutty ass
after I couldn't even make it out of the infernal Hell-Burbia arena
(Out of a billion tries, only once did I make it to the Boss wave of the 5th Round).
I should have skipped to The Secret Armory of General Knox.
I should have taken ten deep breaths
before I screamed like a rabid beast and furiously punched the console eject button
and snatched out the disc.
I should stop playing video games before I have a heart attack or stroke--
or swallow my tongue in a complete and utter rage.
Should have
should have
should have.
----
Should have enough money to buy Borderlands 2 next weekend.
Vincent
Lucky Hell.
Taboo Barcelona Burlesque Nights.
21st December 2013,
Sala Apolo,
Barcelona.
***
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This is what I imagine office hell to be like. You walk in every day, feeling like you are one of hundreds of other rats working all around you. The words rat race get a whole new dimension in this building. Please avoid this in your life for the sake of your sanity! ;-)
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Much of Hells Kitchen still consists of low-rise tenement buildings. This is as a result of the "Special Clinton District" regulation established by the City of New York in 1972.
The Special Clinton District consists of three distinct regulations:
1) Preservation Area: The area from 43rd to 56th Streets between 8th and 10th Avenues must consist of residential buildings less than 7 stories tall. (What you see above)
2) Perimeter Area: 8th Ave between 42nd & 57th St allowed for larger residential and commercial buildings
3) Mixed Use Area: 10th and 11th Avenues between 43rd and 50th Streets for mixed residential and manufacturing buildings.
After September 11th, Mayor Bloomberg relaxed many building regulations which led to a building boom in Hells Kitchen. Many new buildings are currently in construction or have been built in what used to be the preservation area.
The white lights at an angle show that shunting is permitted in this direction, while the signal boxes with a LED square show that the switch/point is set correctly for straight ahead travel. The number six in a triangle means that the next speed is 60 km/h.
© 2012 - Hellbangeuse Live Photography
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Hell played in Paris on April 6th of 2012
Le Bataclan venue.
I'll admit it. Sometimes I send off for those glossy magazines and brochures of exotic places just so I can see everywhere I could be and everywhere I'm not. At first, it was a little bit masochistic. I'd flip through those arid deserts and humid jungles and crowded, jumbled streets and I'd compare. Those bleak landscapes to my almost bleaker suburbia. I'd look at all the places I wanted desperately to be at tht moment. I let the longing, sweet and bitter, well up in me until I had my car keys in hand and aa.com at my fingertips. I'd find myself looking up into the blue cloudless skies and imagined myself soaring though them to there, somewhere, anywhere but here. I let the desire to escape overwhelm the destination. I wanted to travel for so many of the wrong reasons.
But I've figured out the problem. When I looked at those pictures, I was seeing nothing more than impossibilities. I look at them now, or at least try to, and see the possibilities in them. I spread those same distant photographs out on my bedspread. But now my fingers don't stroke the glossy fingers, but the broad elephant leaves of the jungle. I nestle myself deep into the roots of the ancient gods of the jungle and let them wrap their arms around me so tight, a mother's embrace that's held so much life within it's grasp before, so many before me and so many after. And those gnarled hands that twist and entertwine above me, protectng and loving, until I'm underwater in this emerald world. And I lay back and watch that kalediscope sky above me, those shifting shades and shapes of green that shake and shimmer in the windy summer day and I feel the kalediscope world beneath me, the dying leaves and sprouts pushing up around me, the life that springs from death and the death that springs from life, a melding of the very worst and best forces of nature until the two are nearly indistinguishable. A howler monkey cries off in the distant. The ants go marching two-by-two carrying the cookie-cutter crumbs of the gods on their backs, but they'll bring the giants tumbling down and the fierce cry of the howler will fall silent all through the patience of jigsaw teeth. This world will rebuild and destroy itself in ture without the touch of human hands. And it makes me feel so large and so small. But my size doesn't matter. My name, my face, my history doesn't matter. My very essence loses some essential worth. Because none of it matters when I am apart of it all and all is apart of me.
So when I take those glossy magazines in my hands and run my fingers down the faraway lands. I'm not merely escaping where I am, but I'm bringing a bit of that jungle with me. The shadow tread of a panther that prowls in my step. Or that fierce game of predator and prey in my eyes. Or maybe new eyes all together. Because when I am in those distant forests, its very life is in me. I am so much greater than the sum of my parts. And even the ebb and flow of suburbia can't shake that from my bones.
From the ReStore in Lawrence, KS - and as I have now developed a "thing" for wooden handled hammers the last few years - it came home with me
Markings are a bit hard to see - but you do have several images to chose from. Logo in form of
- HELLER (HORSE) Made in USA -
with the Made in USA in smaller letters and USA under "Made in". Horse logo totally obscured by a rusty patch
Going all in on this - puller the head, now soaking in veneffr. Will prime/paint. Handle has some splits - glued in some 1/4" dowels and hope to stabilize. Will sand and probably seal. Did not get a look at bottom of handle yet to see if there is a weight mark
Wedge is an "S" shape and will be reset, I filed off about 1/4 -3/8" of the top of the handle to get some newer wood involved.
Welcome to the Gates of Hell
The sun was out and it was a beautiful evening to go for a drive. Evan & Victoria took me on a scenic drive to Hell...
Location:
GSK World Headquarters
16th and Vine Streets, Philadelphia, PA
Zenos’ statement about his vision of the sculpture
I wanted to create a sculpture almost anyone, regardless of their background, could look at and instantly recognize that it is about the idea of struggling to break free. This sculpture is about the struggle for achievement of freedom through the creative process.
Although for me, this feeling sprang from a particular personal situation, I was conscious that it was a universal desire with almost everyone; that need to escape from some situation – be it an internal struggle or an adversarial circumstance, and to be free from it.
I began this work in a very traditional sculptural manner by creating a small model in clay called a macquette. The purpose of beginning in this manner is to capture the large action and major proportions of the figure within the overall design without any details to detract from the big idea. Another reason for not having details and for working on a small model only a few inches in height is that the small armature within it, holding the clay, is more easily manipulated, allowing for much greater flexibility in developing a concept. For example, an arm, a leg or a head can be pushed around without any concern for obliterating details, such as a nose or a finger.
The macquette is the original mass of clay where a concept is born and from which it grows and develops. This was important later when I enlarged the sculpture from several inches long to 20 feet long, and I retained in the larger work a sense that all the conceptual material, its forms, focus and development sprang from this rough idea. The work metamorphosized, in the way that we do.
Although there are four figures represented, the work is really one figure moving from left to right. The composition develops from left to right beginning with a kind of mummy/death like captive figure locked into its background. In the second frame, the figure, reminiscent of Michaelangelo’s Rebellious Slave, begins to stir and struggle to escape. The figure in the third frame has torn himself from the wall that held him captive and is stepping out, reaching for freedom. In the fourth frame, the figure is entirely free, victorious, arms outstretched, completely away from the wall and from the grave space he left behind. He evokes an escape from his own mortality.
In working on the large scale sculpture, I was satisfied that those who drove by getting a quick look at it would see the big picture: that it was about escape. I was also concerned that those who worked in the building and who passed the sculpture frequently would have something more to see. There was a lot of empty space between the figures on the wall, which I saw as an opportunity to develop further ideas.
It was important to me that the sculpture have more than one theme going on at once. One of the other major ideas incorporated in the work is that the very process of creating the sculpture is clearly revealed in the work itself. The maquette is cast into the sculpture in the lower left hand corner. In the lower right corner is the cast of the sculptor’s hand holding the sculpture tool with two rolls of clay also cast in bronze. Throughout the background of the Wall, I have rolled out the clay and pressed it with my fingers so that my fingerprints are all over the sculpture. I have not hidden how I have made the piece. In fact, the whole idea of the macquette is enlarged so that all the figures in the background look like a giant macquette. And at the same time, as the figures move from left to right, I have shown how figures are developed when you are sculpting from the rough to the more finished product.
Elements of the sculpture trade beside the tools that are cast into the sculpture are calipers both for their use in measuring and their reference to Protagoras’ words “Man is the measure of all things.”
Also cast into the sculpture is an anatomical man, traditionally used as a reference by sculptors. Many of the heads and figures on the wall, some in the round and some in relief, are shown partially sculpted, revealing the process of creation.
Something else I have done with the sculpture is that I have created a one man show of my work. I have always admired Rodin’s Gates of Hell. I similarly thought I would incorporate many sculptures into the wall where it was suitable.
Like T.S. Eliot and other artists, I have put many personal elements in my work. My friend Philip, a sculptor who died of AIDS, created a work that I included in Freedom because he often expressed his wish to have it in a public space. He did not live long enough to accomplish this himself. My cat, who lived with me for 20 years, my mother, father, and my self portrait are in the work. It is obvious which face is mine because there is a ballooned phrase coming from my mouth with the word “freedom”, written backwards, making it clear that the face was sculpted in a mirror. I see the whole Wall sculpture as a kind of illusion akin to Alice’s Through the Looking Glass.
The sculpture contains an original Duane Hanson -- a bronze cast of my own hands that Duane cast for me as a gift.
Much of what I did with this sculpture has to do with taking traditional forms and combining them in non-traditional ways, forming a postmodern sensibility. For example, I dropped a wax cast of my father’s bust from two or three feet in height so that it broke into large pieces. I cast those into the wall in a fractured manner over another face, an old work I found in a vat of clay purchased from a sculptor who had long ago died.
I have hidden many things in the background for people who see the sculpture more than once to discover, such as a cast of coins – a nickel and two pennies, another nickel and two pennies, and two quarters and a penny. These represent not only the relationship between money and art, but the numerals 7-7-51, my birth date.
It is important to me that the public interact with the sculpture, not just intellectually and emotionally but physically. I have created a space in which I have written “stand here” so that people can place themselves inside the sculpture and become part of the composition.
In the end, this sculpture is a statement about the artist’s attempt to free himself from the constraints of mortality through a long lasting creative form.
EDIT: Probably should said it earlier but:
VULGAR LANGUAGE AHEAD!
Irena.
I want her to be up with 5th Street Lords. I made her a girl just to piss off Bizzy. LoL.
Name:
Victory Irena Klosstov.
Nickname:
Vic or Rena. Now that you know don’t come at me with my government. It’s Vic, Rena, or your shit gets busted open.
Age:
22.
Nationality:
Russian American.
Height:
5’7”.
Weight:
139.
Criminal Record:
Arrested several times. Convicted NONE. Witnesses kept mysteriously disappearing.
Time Spent in Jail:
This bitch don’t be locked down. Ever.
Biography:
I was born in a small village on the outskirts of Kotelino. Back then I had a father, mother, and older brother. Times were tense over some shit I was too young to understand, I was three or four, ya know? But I came home from school one day to find my father’s upper torso in the front yard and his head on the porch. Apparently, it was some type of punishment for my mother, who knows what for.
Needless to say my remaining family and I left the county and came to the US. We docked in NY and I lived there til I turned 21. My moms died on my 6th birthday. Her junkie ass boyfirend killed her because she wouldn’t let him fuck me, then he busted his nut anyway. Alik, my brother, 11 at the time, slit his throat while he slept. I got to see him get locked up for some shit he shoulda got a medal for. Stupid mutherfuckas…
Anyway. With no family left the gov’t threw me into the system and I bounced from foster home to foster home for the next 11 years. I finally got liberated by a cool ass cat named Shawn. Moved in with him and we kicked it til I had to wet his shirt after I caught him fuckin around on me… But hell man you don’t need to know all my shit so I’ma cut it off. I mean life is what it is dawg. I just play the hand I’m dealt.
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That's a lot! :O I didn't realize when I was writing it...