Interactive art and robotics is so where it’s at.
Interactive art and robotics is so where it’s at.
Moscovites Andrey Yakovlev & Lili Aleeva hang out in Behance as Andrey & Lili, and as you can see, they can turn your screen into a nice place for your eyes to hang out.
I follow Eric Whitacre in Facebook. His Lux Aurumque blew me away the first time I ever heard it, and still shivers me timbers countless listens later. He is a young, online, easy-on-the-eyes guy too, which, perhaps strangely, I do not associate with the world of virtuoso choral composition.
Today I share with you a post from my Facebook friend Eric. He is producing a virtual performance of Lux. Actually the Facebook post is of a blog post, which includes enticements to investigate further, such as “Making the conductor track was a strange experience for me personally. The production crew set up the cameras and left the room, and I conducted through the entire piece in total silence, hearing only the ‘ideal’ version in my head. Then I went back to the video and played the piano part over my silent conductor track. That was especially difficult, and weird: the Eric-piano-player playing for the Eric-the-conductor on a piece that Eric-the-composer wrote ten years ago.”
Should you decide to participate in the virtual performance, the video you’ll use, for syncing and of course for direction from The Eric, is right there, beckoning…Actually it is right here too, above. But go read the original post, below.
There is a simplicity to this guy’s project that I enjoyed.
And it made me think of the intro to a project I did in 2002, which I trimmed out for this post (sorry for the longish load, qt was easier to get of this than Flash = lazybones):
I will vacation at the other place.
Today I spent some time looking at this, and thinking about playing cards, and my parents, and patterns, and paranoia. My parents recently introduced me to a board game that involves playing cards, but not in the way I was used to. Instead of trying to make patterns with the cards you are dealt, you try to make patterns on the board using the cards you are dealt. Believe it or not, this absence of any requirement to make patterns of the cards themselves struck me as daft at first.
~Hopefully I haven’t made you think of the phrase “outside the box”, like I just made myself think, and then made myself think of another phrase I instantly wished I hadn’t, the threadbare “throw up in my mouth a little”. ~
Anyway, I’d reminisced, during the game, about my childhood experience of “face” cards as quietly beguiling, with their intricate, colourful, expressive illustrations of archetypal characters. I encountered Fernando Chamarelli’s work in Flickr a few days after my playing card meditation, and I saw it as I’d seen face cards when I was a child. This launched one of my loops of wondering about connection, pattern, significance, absurdity, insanity, vanity, haste, frivolity, reality and pointlessness.
Never mind all of that. Fernando Chamarelli! Young Brazilian painter, illustrator, and graphic designer, showing internationally and producing for names like Rolling Stone and Umbro. Still maintaining a Flickr account. Still unassuming in interviews.
I am a longtime apologist for slow pacing in cinema. There is something about that spacious temporal environment that feels luxurious to me. In the hands of a talented filmmaker, obviously.
Abbas Kiarostami is a director whose evangelical fans include Martin Scorsese, Jean-Luc Godard, and Akira Kurosawa. His work is compared to that of Tarkovsky.
One of the most highly acclaimed Kiarostami films is 1997 Palme d’Or winner Taste of Cherry. I recently chose this for crossing-off from my discouragingly long list of cinematic masterpieces I’ve not yet seen. Here’s what I saw: a guy drives around and around on a dusty, barren hill, expressionless, occasionally engaging with strangers on the enigmatic job he offers. Well, the job becomes less enigmatic with each encounter. But the driving does not become less around and around, the hill does not become less dusty or barren, and the expressiveness of this character does not increase.
He plans to commit suicide, and for some reason he wants to be buried in this remote, anonymous hillside hole after the fact. He’s already dug the hole, he just needs someone to refill it once his corpse is at the bottom. His prospective hole-fillers offer no interesting explanations for their refusals. I would estimate that there are 85 or 90 minutes of this movie in which the frame is the hero’s expressionless, driving face, or clay-coloured dust clouds billowing around the hero’s vehicle as it progresses along the dirt road that winds around the dusty, barren hill. The movie’s first ending is the guy in the grave, still alive. The movie’s second ending is the revelation of the cinematic device, in other words, shots of the director and collaborators on location.