snake and ladder

Until I was 9 years old, virtually all of my school vacations were spent in an old aunt's property in the hamlet just bellow my grand-parents farm, in the Southern Alps. The South is prosperous ground for all sorts of snake, particularly viper snakes. In fact, my parents had a dead viper in a jar filled with formaldehyde. It stood on the top of a red painted dresser in the main large living room where my brother and I slept. When I kissed my mother good night, laying in bed, I could see the jar in the distance behind her. I think my parents were rather proud of their viper, in a curiosity cabinet kind of way. Up the hill, my grand-mother Alice devoted much of her summer time to put fruits and vegetables in jars for the winter months. My grand-father had many stories of vipers and I, myself nearly stepped on one once (vipers tend to slide away at the sound of human steps), and every walk in long grass or near water would be accompanied by the sound of: "watch out for vipers, stamp your feet, use a stick...". No one I know was never bitten, but stories are often more powerful than facts (hello Jesus) and in all good order, I have developed a phobia of snakes. But you know how much fears and attractions go hand in hand, I am fascinated by anything floating in a murky liquid  and contained in a glass jar; onions, eyeballs, tattoos and foetus. Everything looks good behind a layer of glass. and there is just no better way so far to just stare at death. that would make a brilliant App for the  i pad 5.
Will I or won't I take my daughter to see the Damien Hirst retrospective at london Tate Modern, that is the not so trivial question of the week.

Alice's preserves-2009

copyright Katarzyna Mirczak,  Eric Franck Fine Art.

The first cut

keep moving in and out

Was tut ein Fotograf?
Ein Fotofraf fotografiert Menschen und Landschaften.
Ein Fotograf entwickelt Filme.

What does a photographer do?
A photographer photographs people and landscapes.
A photographer develops film.

scotch and pins

Bill Cunhingham New York this week end at the Curzon cinema in Mayfair.

Destroy all monsters

I should have said something about Mike Kelley passing away because I was a bit upset. Who is going to dig holes now and say it loudly without words? I can only hope that is friend Paul McCarthy won't let them sponge the smear off. I can only hope Paul McCarthy will pop me off.

The other thing I have been meaning to talk about is Detroit, the city and the photographers sucking its sap.

This is going to be long and rant-y.

A few years ago, I saw a review/advert for the work of Andrew Moore about the ruins of Detroit. I spent 3 days on the net and I was shocked...Detroit was devastated by the post capitalist plague and layers upon layers of dust and rust had been gathering on abandoned buildings and cars; some outlaws and a few socialists prowled the city in search of water and shelter....at least this is what I imagined from the pictures I saw. Then, a few weeks ago, my dear friend Navaz took me to the opening of Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre exhibition The Ruins of Detroit. I had made a bit of a fuss that she took me with her (she normally doesn't as I'm a bit too clumsy for private view), because I was convinced I would see the amazingly beautiful prints of Monsieur A. Moore. When I got there, I was more impressed by the guests shoes than by the prints; but everything was alright, you know...I liked what I saw, dust, rust, decay, bit of green, bit of yellow....I was deeply confused so as to the originator of those photographs...I was told they were french, I suggested they might be french  canadians kind of guys. No, they are french, young and they have worked bloody hard to get the work done, no doubt about that. But what is the point? They, just like A. Moore and a few others have gain access to the city "museum", the authentic piece of fear, melancholia and first mainstream cultural and mediatised shopping mall of America.It seems Detroit has find a new development in the form of the DisneyWorld of social documentary. You can not wait for the new Chernobyl? You have missed the exclusivity on the Bhopal disaster back in 1984? come to Detroit, much better, much cheaper. What is happening is that those photographer(no disrespect) are producing near exact copy of each other work. If it seems too good to be true........On close inspection, I have noticed that Moore, and Marchand & Meffre have gone for the same details, some of their pictures are near identical, so much so that it looks like shots from a film set; or is it?

Naive me who thought that this kind of irreverent exploitation of life's ups and downs only ever happened on CNN or BBC. I am saddened that my favorite subject has come full circle... rust and decay has become the new financial investment of the elite. and there is a book to go with it. I can only hope Paul McCarthy is going to poop them under.

I'm done.

But I refused to believe that art is done. It is just confused at the moment. Because of the number of pixels.

Am grühne Waldt

Have a go

I would go for a black cotton Togo sofa by Ligne Roset, classic walnut 2 doors 1890 wardrobe to house the sound system and television and 2,5 meter metallic shelves. I would, of course keep the metal bar to hang my Peter Doig painting (NOT the canoe man). The cat would have to be black . 

12.465

Apocryphe

Dog

I went to see Robert Adams at Timothy Taylor Gallery today, can you tell?

Lead system

Life cycle

Pour Laure

Gauloise

Tatlin

There is always too much to see in London and most of it for free. Recently, I missed a model of Vladimir Tatlin's Towerat the Royal Academy. I'll be in Paris next week so I'll console myself with the Eiffel Tower.

Daughter of courage

Happy Birthday Mies

You are the best.

Colorimetre

I remember learning about color temperatures and photons (the smallest measurable light particle) and magnetic radiations wave length in physic class and being mesmerised; there were invisible forces in action, after all photons were much better than god, they did not go by the book but rather by the agreement between my eyes and cosmic energy (I love those two words Cosmic Energy; if your tongue slip, they make Comic Orgy, or some other fun pun like Come to my Carnegie). In the olden days, it was very important for a commercial photographer to be able to gage or measure different light radiation and transparencies were always discussed in terms of Hot or Cold. Every studio had rolled sheets of colored gelatins to correct and change the output of the light source being used. Some photographers used a colorimeter, a scary little piece of equipment which made me sweat a few times as I was completely incapable of using one and dreaded being asked to make use of one, I became very good at gaging the light temperature with my naked eye. Not with the precision of a colorimeter of course but near enough to always get the right gelatin. I always assumed that, coupled with my large smile, my skill would pass me as a good assistant. Unfortunately, commercial photographers have always been very needy little people who expect an exact light reading of their Mona Lisa. I was forgiven for being a girl but later dismissed. I went on to work on my own and shot lots of polaroids which I loved because they were always too hot or too cold. A bit like me.

This is a bygone era. 

(I love those words Bygone Era...)

Un petit ramoneur

Attention Attention,
the talented researcher and reporter of absolutely strange forms of human life Lise Sarfati has a show in London starting 3rd of February in a gallery unknown to me Brancolini Grimaldi in Mayfair. Don't miss Miss Sarfati story of mothers and daughters (some are bigger than other...)

Carapater