objects and fields
me

2nd September 2014

Photo reblogged from Blue Lines Revisited with 259,664 notes

tomewing:

bookshop:

solongasitswords:

nullbula:

thesylverlining:

what happened in roughly 1870 though
why was there temporary internet
with a few people searching for pokemon?

It’s a search of Google books, but the question still stands, what the Fuck happened in 1870

I CAN ANSWER THIS!!
In the Cornish dialect of English, Pokemon meant ‘clumsy’ (pure coincidence).
In the mid 1800s there was a surge of writing about the Cornish language and dialect in an attempt to preserve them with glossaries and dictionaries being written. I wrote about it HERE.


I just love that this post happened to find the ONE HUMAN ON THE INTERNET who had the answer to this question

Good example of how Tumblr’s reblogging system creates local maxima of post quality. Also, Pokemon.

tomewing:

bookshop:

solongasitswords:

nullbula:

thesylverlining:

what happened in roughly 1870 though

why was there temporary internet

with a few people searching for pokemon?

It’s a search of Google books, but the question still stands, what the Fuck happened in 1870

I CAN ANSWER THIS!!

In the Cornish dialect of English, Pokemon meant ‘clumsy’ (pure coincidence).

In the mid 1800s there was a surge of writing about the Cornish language and dialect in an attempt to preserve them with glossaries and dictionaries being written. I wrote about it HERE.

I just love that this post happened to find the ONE HUMAN ON THE INTERNET who had the answer to this question

Good example of how Tumblr’s reblogging system creates local maxima of post quality. Also, Pokemon.

Source: neilcicierega

1st September 2014

Photo reblogged from ArquitecturB with 2,435 notes

lapetitecole:

This is one of the most interesting photographs I’ve ever seen: Norilsk, Russia
Photo: Stepanov Slava

lapetitecole:

This is one of the most interesting photographs I’ve ever seen: Norilsk, Russia

Photo: Stepanov Slava

Source: grofjardanhazy

1st September 2014

Photo reblogged from bababadalgharag with 96 notes

buddhabrot:

Female Sumerian statue found at the Abu Temple in Tell Asmar from c. 2700 BCE

buddhabrot:

Female Sumerian statue found at the Abu Temple in Tell Asmar from c. 2700 BCE

Source: buddhabrot

1st September 2014

Photo reblogged from per temeritas with 207 notes


Moebius 

Moebius 

Source: aqqindex

28th August 2014

Quote reblogged from Ame 林 with 9,971 notes

Some white people are so privileged, they expect sympathy for their guilt.
— (via smidgetz)

Source: niggaimdeadass

28th August 2014

Photo reblogged from ///// with 267 notes

nexttoparchitects:

by cire_k 1:1 Details #architecture#details#usyd#fullscale#keen#architectureschool#thehearth#construction#drawing#vscocam

just…just make it big and everything will be fine

nexttoparchitects:

by cire_k 1:1 Details #architecture#details#usyd#fullscale#keen#architectureschool#thehearth#construction#drawing#vscocam

just…just make it big and everything will be fine

Source: nexttoparchitects

26th August 2014

Photoset reblogged from All Pinoe & Wo-So Everything with 370 notes

uswnt5ever:

Lauren ‘Cheney’ Holiday aka QUEEN

maybe the best goal celebration i’ve ever seen.

Source: uswnt5ever

26th August 2014

Post reblogged from Commune | Daily with 10 notes

Poème Èlectronique

communedesign:

Poème électronique (aka “Electronic Poem”) is an 8-minute piece by composer Edgard Varèse, written especially for the Le Corbusier-designed Philips Pavilion at the 1958 Brussels World’s Fair. The pavilion, in it’s completed state, was shaped like a stomach, with a narrow entrance and exit on either side of a large central space. Inside, Poème électronique was synchronized to a film of black and white photographs selected by Le Corbusier. In his own words, Corbusier’s goal was the create “a poem in a bottle.”

image

image

image

image

26th August 2014

Photo reblogged from Mrs. Kitten with 195 notes

mrskitten:


: black-celluloid:: John Coulthart

Tamara Karsavina as Salomé  in the Beecham Russian ballet season, 1913. Costumes and Sets were inspired by Beardsley’s Illustrations and done by Sergei Sudeikin, a member of the Diaghilev Circle

mrskitten:

: black-celluloid:: John Coulthart

Tamara Karsavina as Salomé  in the Beecham Russian ballet season, 1913. Costumes and Sets were inspired by Beardsley’s Illustrations and done by Sergei Sudeikin, a member of the Diaghilev Circle

Source: black-celluloid

26th August 2014

Photo reblogged from per temeritas with 230 notes


Mike Rosenthal

Mike Rosenthal

Source: mpdrolet

26th August 2014

Photo reblogged from V5/MT with 43 notes

publicd0main:

by ___m__a__r__i__a___ http://ift.tt/1srkNc4

publicd0main:

by ___m__a__r__i__a___ http://ift.tt/1srkNc4

Source: publicd0main

26th August 2014

Post reblogged from Ballerinas Dance with Machine Guns with 32 notes

Desiring defectively as a form of life

loneberry:

"Anything that happens is probably fine."

It was the last thing I wrote in my journal, probably minutes ago, yet when I look down at the page I already feel as though I have drifted so far in my head from this point of view. How rapidly life shifts between feeling totally unlivable to deeply humorous. The people around me seem fine. Even when they’re lives are a mess they can still make jokes about television shows and shopping the pain away by buying platform shoes. M says, “I have to keep my hair short now because I’m getting old and shaggy hair doesn’t look good on aging men.” The absence of any distress in his remark surprises me. “How do you talk about aging so casually, with such cool detachment and acceptance of the fact of aging?” His rotting teeth don’t even seem to phase him. But I can’t seem to think the phrase “we age” or look at the scars on my body without feeling deep existential dread about the inevitability of death. Becoming unlovable. A worthless woman.

I am surprised that it is possible for anyone to ever get acclimated to living. To wake up without feeling intense psychic friction or mental anguish about having to live another day. To go on dates. To make dating profiles. To move the record player from the bedroom to the living room. To check their email. To have friends over for dinner. To answer phone calls. To get haircuts. On a hot summer New York day I sat outside M’s barbershop on the curb drinking a can of Arizona iced tea, wondering if I could one day be the kind of person who gets haircuts. Everyone seemed to want to tell me about their love and sex lives and I listened with the curiosity of an anthropologist. People get drunk, have sloppy sex, scream WHY DONT YOU JUST GO GET HIS COCK in Washington Sq Park. Throw knives. Hit each other. Cheat. Get jealous. Cruise. Have make-up sex. Break up marriages. Cry. Want more. Fuck their friends. Get suspended from hooks every weekend. Give lap dances to the men of Wall St. Get tied up. Learn how to navigate being just friends. Fall in love at the wrong time. Know whether they are a “top” or a “bottom.” Feel exhausted by polyamory. Get out of bad relationships. Get into good relationships. Know what they want. Don’t know what they want. Say they want one thing then do another. Feel gendered in different ways in different contexts. Think about relationality. Don’t think about relationality. Don’t tell their old lovers they have a new lover. Get obsessed. Keep getting back together. Dry spells. Transitions. Spraying the terrain. Accept that things change. Don’t accept that things change. Protracted break ups. Not wanting to lose one’s object. -Come get your cat. -I don’t want to get the cat because that would mean that things are really over. Desire strikes, an unforeseeable bolt cleaves a life. It’s not the instability or irrationality of human relationships that surprises me, but people’s orientation to fluctuation. The ongoingness of life. The capacity to not dwell in the devastation.

While sitting in the garden with M he asks what Hannah asked when she was visiting: What do you want? To which I reply, I don’t know. He says, make a mess. If it’s not going to completely destroy you in the end, it’s fine. You’re young. Experiment.

When M’s haircut is finished we walk back to his apartment, talking about crushes, cybernetics, teeth, whatever. He stops abruptly to take a selfie of his new haircut but unable to get the lighting and angle right he hands me his phone to take the picture for him. I joke, “The selfie is the user’s attempt to assert its subjectivity against the collapse of all western metaphysical systems.” He smiles because in some small way he sees that I see him and being seen seeing also constitutes me too. Maybe in the same way someone feels they have shape only when they are caring for another. Maybe it’s the shape I’m given when I stop into a corner store to buy M Cherry Garcia-flavored Ben & Jerry’s ice cream when we were all walking home from the bar drunk. Because I knew what he wanted in that moment. Small gestures.

The day before I left for New York Dana and I talked about what it means to have shape only in relation to another. He started texting me while I was sitting on the perron of the Widener library at sunset rereading My Walk With Bob, feeling devastated about Bruce’s loss of Jonathan, his sense that he was being replaced, that it was the most natural thing that a relationship should collapse and with it, the domestic language that was form during the encounter. “How am I going to get along now, who’s going to take care of me?” Dana: “and with no one to care for—how will I be real to myself?” I told Dana that I have not yet figured out how to orient myself to loss in that I stubbornly insist on on living with absences, presentizing them because I can’t let anything go, but that’s not entirely true, I think as M and I converse with tenderness and familiarity of close siblings. I feel silly about my April sadomasochistic M fantasies, though perhaps to indulge the irrational fixation further would have been fine too. “You’re fine,” he says to my neurotic self-analysis. “Am I?” I ask. “Yes.” “But why do I feel so ashamed?” “Maybe you can play with that shame. Maybe the shame can be erotic.”

Is that the Chris Kraus approach? To not necessarily strive for shamelessness but affirm one’s abjectness or at least reconcile oneself to the possibility that what might register as a personal defect in the way that one relates to or loves others may actually be a site of potential? Anyway, M won’t indulge my usual line of thinking. You can’t convince a self-described pervert that any way of desiring is defective.

Tagged: jackie wangnodesire

25th August 2014

Photoset reblogged from SUBTILITAS with 516 notes

subtilitas:

Matthias Bauer - Haus H36, Stuttgart 2012. That floating stair is ridiculous (as is the CNC’d acrylic bathroom sink). Photos (C) Roland Halbe.

yes. the sink. it’s ridic.

23rd August 2014

Photo reblogged from pseudologics with 209 notes


The residents’ letterboxes, Kisho Kurokawa’s Nakagin Capsule Tower, Tokyo.

The residents’ letterboxes, Kisho Kurokawa’s Nakagin Capsule Tower, Tokyo.

Source: domusweb.it