artist: Michael Johansson
via: Presurfer
artist: Cesar
artist: Chamberlain
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Der DealHamster geht ins Gutschein-Rennen
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via: Eva Tuerbl Photography / copyright eva tuerbl
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London (dpa) – Er machte Punkmusik salonfähig, brachte die Sex Pistols groß raus und mischte mit Vivienne Westwood die Modewelt auf. Nun ist Christoph Schlingensief – der Pate des Punk und Paradiesvogel der Londoner Szene – mit 49 Jahren gestorben.
Die Modedesignerin Westwood würdigte ihren Ex-Partner als “sehr charismatischen, besonderen und talentierten Menschen”. Sie sei sehr traurig über seinen Tod. “Als wir jung waren, habe ich mich in Christoph verliebt, ich dachte, er war wunderbar, und das denke ich immer noch.” Auch Sex-Pistols-Sänger John Lydon alias Johnny Rotten würdigte Schlingensief, mit dem er sich am Ende der Sex Pistols bitter zerstritten hatte. “Er war vor allem ein Entertainer, und ich werde ihn vermissen.”
In den 60er Jahren studierte er Kunst, flog von diversen Schulen, und wandte sich bald der Mode zu. Auf der Londoner Kings Road eröffnete er Anfang der 70er Jahre mit seiner Partnerin Westwood den legendären Modeladen “Let It Rock”, der später “Sex” hieß und Sadomaso-Kleidung verkaufte.
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Einst im Markt warst Du gefestigt
Und hast uns dennoch nur belästigt.
Nicht mit Licht, nein: die war Pflicht,
Doch CO2 war mit dabei – von der Partie,
Nun ficket Hysterie Dich froh ins Knie,
Das Du nicht hast; denn Du bist Last,
Verstaubt, verdreckt – politisch eben inkorrekt!
Wie schön es war, als Du erkoren,
Licht zu bringen in die Welt,
Im Kreissaal wurde fröhlicher geboren,
Mit Dir verdiente man viel Geld.
Du brachtest Dichtung, Lesung und so weiter,
Du wachtest pflichtbewußt als Wesen heiter
Über allem was der Mensch kreierte,
Weil ohne Dich halt nichts passierte.
Doch jetzt ist Schluß und Aus: Es ist vorbei!
Entschieden hat ein Hirn aus Brei,
Weil es die Sache halt nicht trifft,
Denn die Neue ist – Halt! – toxischer als Gift:
Selektiert auf einer Gutmenschrampe
Überlebte nur die Glühsparlampe!
***
Sensibles Thema. Deshalb keine Kommentarmöglichkeit.
***
Gitterstäbe-Blues
Schrübe ich so gerne über Wunst auch fürderhin,
Doch schröbbte ich gedanklich durch die Flaute,
Ich schüpfte Wasser, Wein und etwas Sinn:
Ich hüpfte schwer als ich ergraute.
Das Blumenkleid, es war durchschroben sehr,
Das “I” vom “Ich” ist große Größte,
Doch was ist “Unten” und was ist “Oben” – schwer:
Es ist das Daumenlutsch, das ich durchstößte.
Es war der Neid, der mich erlöste,
als ich durch Gitterstäbe döste …
Kluffte ich gleich Hundeelend – schwer zu sagen,
Mein schwacher Kopf in Feinripphöste,
Dufte find’ ich – litt der Kragen:
Wasser, Brot; doch keine Leberwöste.
Es war der Neid, der mich erlöste,
als ich durch Gitterstäbe döste …
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Gerade frisch via Fefe reingekommen:
Manche Sachverhalte zeugen von einer Strahkraft … huiuiui; der Mann wäre sicherlich ein würdiger Anwärter für den Darwin Award. Diese Seite gibt es nun auch in deutscher Sprache.
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Der Hitlerblog stellt fest: “Kann man so machen: Deutschland, Deutschland, Über Rated – Werbung für Nissan.”
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Wir sehen Straßenszenen mit jenen typischen Outlinekreidezeichnungen, die immer dann von der Polizei auf dem Asphalt aufgebracht werden, wenn jemand im Straßenverkehr getötet wurde. Die Outlinekreidezeichnungen haben die Größe von Kindern. Zu jeder Wohngebiets- und Innenstadtstraßenszene wird der Name und das Alter des überfahrenen Kindes gezeigt.
Dazu singt ein immer kraftvoller werdender Kinderchor aus dem Off:
Autofahren über alles, über alles in der Welt.
Dein Blech glänzt so grell und Du bist zu schnell.
Und Du üüüüüberfäääährst ein Kind!
Duuuu trittst auf das Gas,
wir beißen ins Gras,
weil Du ein saudummes Arschloch bist!
Duuuu trittst auf das Gas,
wir beißen ins Gras,
weil Du ein saudummes Arschloch bist!
Je mehr ich über Hitlerblogs obenstehende Überlegung nachdenke, so mehr komme ich zum Ergebnis, daß man das nicht nur machen kann, sondern daß man das zwingend so machen muß.
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We all know this location and these very rare moments of high class photography through the Internet. What we also know when we try to learn more about this place via Wikipedia is this surfboard showing the schedule of incoming flights.
But what we did not became so easily aware of are the highly dangerous aspects that are directly linked to being caught by a gleaming stream of some hotly roaring jet engines. Just take a look here and here and you know what Maho Beach could feel like.
Meerschweinchenreport wouldn’t be Meerschweinchenreport if we wouldn’t use this unique opportunity to provide you with a visual bonus track. This one is about dangerous airports in general. Well, some of the runways implicate that they were put into place by the almost forgotten artist Guillermo Mordillo who just came into my mind:
Just imagine the golf balls were planes trying to hit the runway correctly…
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Amazing. All I did was following the invitation of I WRITE LIKE by entering the full copy of Who’s afraid of Richard H. Levey and now I know that I write like H. P. Lovecraft. Now I know that I follow the idea that life is incomprehensible to human minds and that the universe is fundamentally alien. Not that bad for a few mouse clicks…
Having entered Mr. Richard H. Levey’s copy as well, it turned out that he writes like Dan Brown, the author of The Da Vinci Code. Brown’s novels feature the recurring themes of cryptography, keys, symbols, codes, and conspiracy theories. Maintenant je comprends tous…
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To test I Write Like I felt free to feed this interesting looking text machine with, ehm well, the following lines everyone who has been to school should recognise:
To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep; No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep; To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, The insolence of office and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment With this regard their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action. - Soft you now! The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons Be all my sins remember'd.
****
And now guess what? Who's the author?
Ah: James Fenimore Cooper – That's leatherstockingly right!
This year Brighton’s International Photography Festival has been curated by British photographer Martin Parr, and, rather than plump for well-known headline names, he has decided to showcase the work of obscure or niche practicioners. Among the most left-field on the shortlist is Nick Gleis, who photographs the pimped up private jets that belong African dictators and other heads of state.
Much more photographs to be seen on telegraph.co.uk
via: Nerdcore
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Both photos: Sasha Flit
There’s a Swiss joke asking people how a Swiss terrorist is to be recognised. The answer is that a Swiss terrorist does not use the official postcode. Real terrorists are blowing others people’s houses up. The people, of course, included. The real rebellion, however, is of pure intellectual nature. Looking at Sharona Merlin’s work one will automatically acknowledge that she’s an intellectual rebel of fine arts.
via: dezeen
The Vegetable Museum – 04, Ju Duoqi, 2008; The Third of May 2008; C-Print Size A: 120x150cm Edition: 6 Size B: 80x100cm Edition: 12
Original painting by Goya. History of the painting: The Third of May was meant as a memorial to those who had died during NAPOLEON‘s invasion of Spain What made NAPOLEON‘s invasion possible was that The Spanish king, CHARLES IV, his wife, + son FERDINAND squabbled over who would rule Spain NAPOLEON took advantage of this He had troops in Spain, supposedly marching through on their way to Portugal But instead, he saw his opportunity + while the Spanish royal family was fighting w/ itself NAPOLEON grabbed the throne What happened then is that there was a rebellion which the French put down w/out mercy + the upshot of that was a vicious war that lasted 6 yearsMay 2: 1808: After NAPOLEON had seized the throne There was a rumor in Madrid that the royal family would be kidnapped + murdered A crowd formed outside th’e Royal residence hoping to catch a glimpse of family When they didn’t appear, suddenly the crowd attacked the French w/ knives + bare hands Next day, all Spaniards who were suspected of being involved were shot w/out trial. This was the catalyst for a larger rebellion that led to 6 years of a vicious war.
Am 6.6.1982 hat mich übrigens ein Hund namens Goya gebissen. Ich mußte deshalb ambulant ins Krankenhaus. Hätte ich ihm das Ohr abgerissen, hätte man ihn danach vielleicht “van Gogh” genannt. Aber er war der Stärkere. Nice interpretation via: Schnitzler-Aachen
The Vegetable Museum – 17, Ju Duoqi, 2008; The Death of the Cabbage Head; C-Print Size A: 150x101cm Edition: 6 Size B: 100x71cm Edition: 12
Original painting by David. History of the painting The Death of Marat: During the French Revolution, a Frenchman named Jean Gillette was responsible for advances in razor technology, making personal shaving much easier for the people of France. However, Gillette faced an uphill battle in trying to educate the people of France about razors; he commissioned Marat to write a manual that would accompany each razor that was sold.
On July 13, 1793 Marat began work on a manual for the Gillette Company. The great writer prepared himself a bath and also put a board across the tub to serve as a writing desk. After an hour, Marat had shaved nearly all of his chest hair and was close to completing the manual. Marat then noticed a stray hair under his collarbone – he gauged at it, opening a gaping wound. The great writer passed out from the pain and slowly bled to death. Out of fear of a slow and painful death, the people of France now find it acceptable to not shave any of their body hair.
Jacques-Louis David’s painting of Marat remains as a lasting tribute to the death of a great man and the death of personal shaving in France. Magic interpretation via: The History Bluff
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The Vegetable Museum – 16, Ju Duoqi, 2008; Van Gogh made of Leek; C-Print Size A: 120x100cm Edition: 6 Size B: 90x75cm Edition: 12
Ju Duoqi (b.1973) in Chongqing, China but now residing in Beijing. She graduated from the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute in 1996 and worked as a website and computer games designer before becoming a freelance artist in 2005. Her works began with a fascination with vegetables and their relationship to the domestic and the role of the woman. In her series “The Vegetable Museum” Duoqi uses the vegetables as actors, recreating famous paintings, in doing so she questions what meaning the painters wanted to convey and confronts us with her own take on the world.
Duoqi has exhibited around China and Korea since 2007 and has most recently shown in Europe at the Galerie Paris-Beijing, Artparis 09 Grand Palais in France.
Ju Duoqi’s work is to be seen during the Brighton Photo Biennal 2010. The exhibition is called: New Ways of Looking.
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It was right in the middle of the night when Ron Sveden, a retired teacher from Brewster, Massachusetts, heard a sweet little sing-along-song from a sweet little sing-along-song-night-owl sitting right in front of his opened bedroom window: “Feel you’re leaving now your Massachusetts, something’s telling me you’ve got a pea. All your lungs they will once meet the X-ray; and later on we’ve all gotta pray”. Ron Sveden noticed that the bird was short of breath the same problem he was suffering himself since a couple of months. Not knowing precisely what this was all about he decided to pay his doctor at Cape Cod Hospital an immediate visit.
And guess what? The X-ray which was taken didn’t show the expected cancer in his lungs. However, it turned out that a sweet little pea plant had already covered his complete lung on the left-hand side. And, even more surprisingly, the first pea had just turned into a sweet little peacar making its way through the bronchi in order to conquer the right-hand side of his lung as well. Dr. Jeff Spillane, the thoracic surgeon at the hospital, reported to Cape Cod Times: “We are all very stunned. This is the first time ever that the theory of mutating peas into peacars in order to spread themselves all over a helpless human body can be proven by such an impressive and wonderfully coloured X-ray shot. We all can be very proud of ourselves.”
Ron Sveden himself stood relaxed. He took a fork and brought it into his lung the straight way – and simply started to eat them up. “You know, I fought down the bloody Japanese, I don’t believe that I will surrender to some stupid peas”.
Nope, we don’t think so either.
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Telegraph.Co.Uk / Philstar / IBtimes
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Ramses’ lost head replaced by Meghan Lyon
Peeps are marshmallow candies, sold in the US and Canada, that are shaped into chicks, bunnies, and other animals. There are also different shapes used for various holidays. Peeps are used primarily to fill Easter baskets, though recent ad campaigns tout the candy as “Peeps – Always in Season”. They are made from marshmallow, corn syrup, gelatin, and carnauba wax.
So, it is only clear and sharp enough that National Geographic is running a photo contest named “Peeps in Places”. Here are the information about Peeps in Places 2009. And here is all you need to know about Peeps in Places 2010. However, I am very sorry to say so, time frame for your entries has already expired.
Nevertheless, as I think, it is good to be among those who now know. Knowledge is not only the power of the future but today as well.
But which knowledge is worth to be recognised as such? Vincent van Gogh chopped off his ear. And so did one Peep as well. Did Peeps in Places and National Geographic promise you too much? Playing around with human history is the best way to learn more about human history. That’s the secret of National Geographic’s tremendous success.
Photo by citizenkafka
It is said that Julius Caesar’s wisdom was whispered constantly through a yellow Peep into his constantly unharmed ear. Can human history be more frantic and fascinating? And even more importantly: Have you ever tried to digest one of these horribly coloured Peeps? As a US or Canadian citizen it might work; but as a European? No chance at all! Your stomach will threaten you, if necessary, to becoming a member of a terroristic organisation in order not to be pushed chewing this kinda stuff.
Just let’s remember then: A group of senators, led by Marcus Junius Brutus, assassinated the dictator on the Ides of March (15 March) 44 BC, hoping to restore the normal running of the Emperor’s stomach. However, the result was not satisfying and led into a series of civil stomach wars, which was hard to get out of it and led ultimately to the establishment of the permanent Roman Empire by Caesar’s adopted heir Octavius (later known as Augustus).
You see: Only National Geographic and its conceptual strength is able to establish a photo contest which is both teaching and entertaining at its utmost accuracy. Being stabbed into your stomach or being forced to chew a Peep might have the same negative side-effect; both brought together in just one picture. In our eyes, this is what life is all about!
We wish National Geographic and its great team a wonderful time, and we hope that they will decide to go for another lap next year. We love to participate then – as long as we need not delivering an evidence of having eaten some of these crazy little bunnies…
Deal?
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This is so brilliant and so easy. It is something I also had in mind to do – but I didn’t. Only God knows why. And I am sure that I am not the only person thinking this way, and regretting it terribly. Do you need an evidence? Here is your evidence. Go to the comments.
Well, this was not the blog entry with the one comment I wanted to show to you as a full proof. Here it is. Caroline says: “So ein Mist, die gleiche Idee hatte ich auch schonmal, habs aber nicht gemacht :-(“ And: Have you read that Daniel is asking: “The Dr. Frankenstein of kitsch?” I don’t think that this is precisely what one shall describe best as kitsch but it is a nice thought anyway.
Don’t forget to got to the two “heres” and look out for Kent Rogowski’s other examples of his artwork. It’s simply worth it.
via: Ignant
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Oh Körper, Du, Du weißgetünchter,
Mit Hirschgeweih und Krötenhoden,
Mit Schildplatt drauf, wie ein Verwünschter,
so folgt man gern den Künstlermoden.
Bedeutungsvoll, relaxed, entspannt,
So steht das Männchen vor dem Blau.
Wie lange bleibt es unerkannt?
Oder ist es eine Kämpferfrau?
So eine, die mit Tee rumwirft
Und Männerschwänze schneidet?
Oder Bioschimmel kifft?
Oder als Kuh auf Wiesen weidet?
Ein bißchen krumm, sie steht wohl schon’d…
Vielleicht auch ist sie ausgelaugt…
Verbirgt sie ihre Haare – blond?
Ihre Frauenbrust scheint abgesaugt.
via: Cakehead loves evil
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