Now: Here: This November 4, 2005
(scroll right to walk through the exhibition)
Nick Holliday
Great Barrington, Massachusetts
Sucker
collage
I've been thinking about the origins of inspiration. For example: Where did this bizarre little person come from? Beats me.
Harold Wallin
Washington Heights, New York City
untitled
photograph
Having just gotten back to New York this week after a very creative time in Anchorage, I am thinking of the work that awaits me here. I'm thinking of how to keep the momentum of the last few months going. So to that end, since I haven't gotten back to the studio yet, I've been going around the city with a camera taking visual notes, to stay in practice.
Karen Greene
Washington Heights, New York City
trash world
photograph
Trash World; An opening into another world which I happened upon, maybe a fractured portal.
PP
New York City
Six Cement Ceiling Leaks
photography slide show
It seems leaks are the rage these days.
Theresa Murphy
Paris, France
untitled
collage
i was reading an article in Le Monde about Gilles Deleuze,
the 10th year anniversary of his death.
i gleaned these words:
that joy.that alive desire is a certain affinity with what is exterior,
outside oneself.
Karien Vandekerkhove
Gent, Flanders, Belgium
ovt6#6
digital photograph
Then she drew the curtains down
And said, "When will you ever learn
That what happens there beyond the glass
Is simply none of your concern?
God has given you but one heart
You are not a home for the hearts of your brothers
-Nick Cave, AS I SAT SADLY BY HER SIDE
Miriam Leuchter
New York City
untitled
C-print
My new job at a photography magazine has ironically inhibited my own photography lately. That may just be due the time and mental energy any new job takes, or maybe it's because I'm giving much more thought to what makes a "good" photograph, and how does my work satisfy -- or (more often) defy -- that definition. The other thing on my mind is a line from Kriota Willberg's multimedia piece, "The Bentfootes," in the context of influences: "An artist stands where she can and falls over where she must."
James Huckenpahler
Washington, D.C.
ugly robot-totem
digital image
i've been building a library of three-dee models based on domestic odds-n-ends lying around, imagining how, after the big eco-holocaust to come, the platypus-people civilization that's going to replace us in 10 million years is gonna interpret all the crap we left behind. energy-saving lightbulb, or willendorf roswell venus?
Tim Folzenlogen
Washington Heights, New York City
untitled comic strip
pencil drawings
click here to read the strip
(This is a serial strip that continues from previous weeks)
Stephen Beveridge
Washington Heights, New York City and Hemet, California
Hank
pen on paper
Since I'm looking back to see what I created that Friday i don't remember what i was thinking although this guy was speaking at a memorial service and looked more uncomfortable than me. I've been making these drawings (usually a head with text) for three sketchbooks now and the text does not necessarily reflect the subjects thoughts or things they actually said but sometimes it does.
Peter Ferko
Washington Heights, New York City
Tomasz Pietrasiewicz, Lublin, Poland
photograph
Theater artist Pietrasiewicz has made it his mission to rediscover and make available the history of the Jews who lived in Lublin, Poland, prior to WWII. He is not Jewish. His projects have included installing, in the prior Jewish ghetto, flood lights that shine up through the manhole covers with recorded audio memories of the prior residents and a museum that includes an exhibit of photos of each building along the main street circa 1938. He works only in Lublin - educating the residents is his only goal.
The most striking thing about visiting Poland is that there are only a few thousand Jews now living in all of Poland; a country that used to be home to several millions. Prior to WWII, many cities, for example Lublin and Oswiecim (Auschwitz), were one quarter to more than half Jewish, now most of them have virtually no Jews...sixty years later, the current inhabitants are beginning to feel the memories rising.
Misha Dontsov
New York City
untitled
photograph
Eleven hundred years ago when I was born from
Yellow rock formation, extricated so to speak
Or vomited, I'll leave it up to you to make a point.
So great I was, untouched my strife, by laziness, by flies.
I was created and conceived at dawn, my father,
Angry mouse was standing tall. And overwhelmed by tears,
My mother said: we have our son, our daughter resting here
Awake, she's fast asleep; she's ugly as a swoon, she's beauty.
Fervently, the peasants kneeled before me, their balding heads
Reflected falling snow, the droplets frozen, sparkling bright.
We wept together, sorry, sorry were we. Afterwards, when snow
Stopped, we started home; our path was long and winding,
Hungry, cold, we were delirious with visions: food and drink;
Sun dried tomatoes, squash, red peppers, house wine;
We dreamt of crust on loafs of bread, the puddings, mashed
Potatoes, turkey wings, these things appeared so vividly, so...
I cannot find the words, but hey, believe me we were down:
Imagination made us hungry; we looked each other in the eye
And kissed and cried; and we arrived at home sweet home;
We never left you know! hey, all this time were sitting we
In front of empty fridge, but all we had to do is go to
Corner deli; get some sandwiches, or maybe beer, or both;
Or none; we could just cook some ravioli, better still...
Still night on distant hills, back choy is steaming;
I finish my tirade, I leave you fresh and stained a little
With my words... so long... my friend.
I see you very very soon, too soon, I almost...
But enough!
end of exhibit
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