Thursday, March 26, 2015

blackwell brutal hellebore

"It likes it when you don't depend on it. It will reward you every time you don't act needy. It will chase you when you act like other things (passion, friendship, family, longevity) are more important to you. If your career is a bad boyfriend, it is healthy to remember you can always leave and go sleep with somebody else." (Amy Poehler)

Photos, I got Photos, I got lots and lots of Photos...
The front doors.  Like the toy you play with in the doctor's office, there guys stand on three different levels.  The bottom guy slaps a hunk of cement from his wheelbarrow up above him to the second guy's stand.  He in turn shovels up a hunk to the third guy above ands the first guy repeats.  All you see are the shovels tipping up, then down, up, then down like a machine.  One shovel at a time-  they are applying stucco.

The side view.  Break time, this side of the building is stuccoed and rubbed down over every inch to get that smooth surface.  They have raised metal forms around the windows to trim them off, and deep moldings going into the soffits.

Formation for the Wheelbarrows while the workers sit in the shade and drink lots of water. It got to 90 today, and the sun was really hot.  I love this picture.  

Yarn Bombing the wharf-  these look so pretty-  hope they could do several.

‘Judith Scott: Bound and Unbound’ at the Brooklyn Museum
Judith Scott’s art is vibrant and multilayered. The color combinations in many of her pieces are astounding: the crimsons, the bright baby blue, the shock of black thread. The pieces seem to bring order and harmony out of chaos. In particular, I am thinking of “Untitled, 2002,” and “Untitled, 2004.” Both works include bright blue plastics reminiscent of Stockholder’s and Sze’s sculptures, but they also, of course, evoke Rauschenberg’s earlier combines and assemblages which seemed to swallow and digest items from the everyday. What is both unfair and not useful is to entangle Scott’s work in the rhetoric of the victim, of the outsider, of the child-like genius. Like other art brut artists, she is made mute many times over, and as a result we lose our focus and find ourselves fixing her, like a moth, to the wall. But Judith Scott is an artist. She is more than a set of descriptions and labels. She has a voice. Step closer and really look at the work until the words fall away, until there is nothing but the beautiful cadmium blue yarn and ink-black thread, stare into the work until you see nothing but the work and listen, closely, to what the work, her work, says.
Joyce & Judith Scott

The Promised Squirrel

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