Larry Wolf, Lake View (2024) |
Impulse to Action
Monday, December 9, 2024
Wednesday, December 4, 2024
Watercolor from a Zine
Friday, November 29, 2024
Bimbox Pop Up
Pop Up - Bimbox, Issue #2, Summer 1990 |
Bimbox, Issue #2, Summer 1990 |
Bimbox, Issue #2, Summer 1990 |
Bimbox, Issue #2, Summer 1990 |
Tuesday, November 26, 2024
Friday, November 22, 2024
What He Sees
Peter Nadas - Self Portrait with Rolleiflex (1963) |
I was previously interested not in the moment of self-knowledge, not in my individuality, not in the peculiarity of my way of looking at things, but rather in the peculiarity that appears in the common, the individual formed in the perspective of the collective levels of consciousness. The individual version that appears in the monotony of the crowd. / Not the one-time thing, but the one-time thing that repeats and recurs, which the other person immediately recognizes as something of their own.
...
Their attention was not focused on objects, things and events, not on cameras, equipment or development techniques, but on images of pure intuition, which always wrote the light in their place or caused it to be written through them.
with thanks to the Ryerson and Burnham Libraries at the Art Institute Chicago
Tuesday, October 22, 2024
Twin Lens Cropped
Monday, October 21, 2024
Arthur Rimbaud at 17 and 170
Larry Wolf, Two Portraits of Arthur Rimbaud at 17 by Etienne Carjat 1871 as seen through the pages in Wyatt Mason Rimbaud Complete 2002 (2024) |
Patti Smith reminded me that yesterday, 20 October (1854), was Arthur Rimbaud's birthday. She recited a poem, I think her own translation, transcribed by me, with apologies for any errors.
My Bohemia
Fists in torn pockets, I departed.My overcoat grew ideal too.I walked your night, oh muse,And dreamed, oh what glorious love.My only trousers had a hole.Little Tom Thumb,I dropped my dreaming rhymes,My lodging was the great Bear Inn.And in the sky my stars were rustling.I listened seated by the roadIn soft SeptemberWhere the dew was wine vigor on my face.And in weird shadows rhymingPlucked like lyres the laces of my martyred shoes,One foot against my heart.