On completion, the Burj Dubai will reach an estimated height of 818m and be the tallest man-made structure in the world. In the image below, taken earlier this year, the tower is a mere 400m tall. It currently measures some 636m in height and is expected to be operational in September 2009.
Steve Schofield photographs British science fiction fans who like to dress up.
I rather like the images, the discomfort and the hint of tragicomedy. But I’m less convinced by the predictable spiel about “globalisation and America’s ongoing ability to infiltrate all cultures via various channels of media.” Are we supposed to believe that these people are in some way being oppressed by international mass culture? Why don’t artists fret quite so much about the globalisation of, say, Chinese restaurants? Or doesn’t that count? And why does no-one want to dress up as Naomi Klein?
Via Coudal.
I’ve lifted these from today’s ephemera because they’re too good to miss. Walter Martin and Paloma Muñoz make limited edition snow globes with a difference. Instead of the usual uneventful winter scenes, these six-inch globes offer glimpses of intrigue and alarming goings-on.
More.
Ravishing Beasts is a site devoted to taxidermy through the ages. Of particular interest is the section on theatrical taxidermy, which includes such antiquated marvels as the Kitten Tea Party and Kitten Wedding. The latter is described thus:
Completed in 1898, “The Kitten Wedding” was Walter Potter’s last large work (although he was working on squirrel court scene before his stroke in 1914) and the only one in which the animals are dressed. The lady kittens have cream brocade gowns, frilly knickers, gaudy beads and earrings. The bride has a brass ring on her finger, and the groomsmen sport wild woolly heads and morning suits. The whole scene includes eighteen kittens with enormous, bulging eyes, a parson, an altar, and a rail.
Other oddities of note include boxing squirrels, hedonistic chipmunks and a menagerie of fraudulent beasts.
(h/t, Coudal.)
Ronnie Yarisal and Katja Kublitz’s coin-operated Passive Aggressive Anger Release Machine allows the user to select a china plate, a glass or an item of porcelain kitsch and reduce it, violently, to fragments and dust. “All you have to do is insert a coin, and a piece of china will slowly move forwards and fall into the bottom of the machine, breaking, and leaving you happy and relieved of anger.”
I suppose there’s always a chance the preferred item will be out of stock, or will fail to break on impact, or that the machine will jam when needed most and fail to refund a coin, prompting the frustrated user to shake and kick the machine, possibly to destruction. On reflection, that may prove an even better way of relieving stress. Or indeed of commenting on the duo’s art.
Via Quipsologies.
Since 1996, Nick Veasey has been taking x-ray photographs of pretty much everything. From shoes, insects and kitchen appliances to enormous composite shots of Boeing 777s.
A book of Veasey’s work, X-Ray, will be published in October. More. And. Related.
When called on to babysit, I’ve found it helpful, indeed necessary, to have a good supply of felt tips, paper and crayons. The crayons in particular evoke a certain nostalgia. Maybe it’s the pleasing feel of them, the spectrum of colours, or their distinctive, familiar smell.
Here are some things I didn’t know about them.
In the last 98 years, more than 100 billion Crayola crayons have been made.
And,
The average child in the United States will wear down 730 crayons by his 10th birthday. Kids, ages 2-8, spend an average of 28 minutes each day colouring. Combined, children in the US spend 6.3 billion hours colouring annually.
And,
According to a Yale University study, the scent of Crayola crayons is among the 20 most recognisable to American adults. Coffee and peanut butter are 1 and 2.
An illustrated index of Crayola colours, in alphabetical and historical orders, can be found here. There is, of course, a Virtual Museum of Crayon Collecting, with a section devoted to Crayola products and a helpful essay on how to display your collection of crayon boxes. Some, like Pete Goldlust, prefer to carve their crayons.
See also: The Thrill of Pencils and The Thrill of Carpeting.
Takeshi Miyakawa designs things. Like this bureau, for instance.
I thought I’d post a footnote of sorts to yesterday’s item on Professor Caroline Guertin, she of the limpid prose and limitless expertise. Here are a few short extracts from Guertin’s essay, Wanderlust: The Kinesthetic Browser in Cyberfeminist Space, published in 2007 by the Online Journal of Embodiment & Technology.
The shuffling and unfolding of the information of her body in sensory space is enacted across a gap or trajectory of subjecthood that is multiple and present. Subjectivity is the lens and connector through which the spatio-temporal dislocation gets focused and bridged. The gap is outside vision — felt not seen — and always existing on the threshold in between nodes. Like the monster’s subjectivities, all knots in the matrix are linked.
Think about that for a moment. Ponder its majesty.
Nudged into motion, the meandering subject in cyberfeminist space is a comet in orbit around her own story, around her subjective experience of a text that keeps changing, spinning off into an uncharted future. According to Paul Virilio, we are no longer beings who inhabit a temporal plane. Instead, in Open Sky, he argues we have become passive agents who are acted upon like film — exposed, underexposed, overexposed — and are nakedly subject to the effects of light speed.
And,
We inhabit our bodies differently when we are out of phase, oscillating in the turbulence of dynamic space, that space where the textual body is written as contextual knot. The ways of moving in virtual space are directed and mapped by the knots that span spatio-temporal rifts. Without movement, we cannot cross the space-time divide.
Or maybe,
The textual voyage is alive and kinetic, fractal and in flux, birthed as she travels through its fullness.
I suppose one could view the extracts above, and the essay from which they’re taken, as a sort of extended Zen kōan, insofar as they defy rational understanding and all known aesthetic criteria. More sceptical souls may wonder if these passages are in fact the results of some kind of seizure or medical condition, of which we must not speak.
I should, in fairness, point out that the Online Journal of Embodiment & Technology does feature more substantial aesthetic and intellectual works, including Courtney Stricklin’s Yawn, a written variation of a video piece that invites readers to record the number of times they yawn while reading it. (Stricklin has, helpfully, punctuated the text with marks indicating how many times she yawned while writing it.) Stricklin’s biography informs us,
While Courtney would never have guessed that her future would be in the arts, it came as no surprise to her highly artistic family.
No less impressive is Thrash: Physical Responses to the Bush Administration, by Andrew Simonet and Headlong Dance Theatre, a company which creates
award winning experimental and experiential dances with/for the entire body, including the face, the voice, and the mind.
Readers will be thrilled to discover that Thrash is an ongoing project in which members of the public are welcome to participate:
No performance experience necessary. Here’s the idea: you listen to speeches by George W. Bush. Then you move in front of a video camera for four minutes. No movement too strange, too ugly, or too crazy. Whatever comes out is part of Thrash. I edit the results into [a] short compilation, a cathartic DIY video, a belligerent home movie of an infuriating time… Don’t worry about being (1) good, (2) original, (3) interesting.
A video of the results is available here. Go on, watch it. It’s a thing of beauty.
Update:
Over at University Diaries, The Myth attempts a rather heroic translation of Guertin’s prose.
Feel free to compensate me.
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