Tell me.
Nikolaus Maack
this means you. All of you. Do it now.
The last thing I did, for no reason that I can tell, is tear three
pages out of a book and write on the sheets, in black magic marker:
SHE WROTE IT IN HER BOOK. (green marker background)
THE ORDINARY PEOPLE CALLED YOU. (red marker background)
YOU NEVER CALLED THEM BACK. (blue marker background)
I'm wondering what I want to do with these pages.
I've been doing collages again. I love to use lots of glue as the
varnish, which makes the result all shiny. Paint on top of paper
makes neat cracks and wrinkles. Little bits of coloured paper torn up
are somehow holy.
The last collage I finished was of a man in a suit with a top hat, on
a complex background of torn paper painted red with watered down
paint. The end result looks sort of like stained glass. I started
creating this piece by working on the background. I filled an entire
sheet of paper with tiny bits of torn paper, glued down, not sure why
the heck I was doing it. The best art seems to come about this way.
"This feels right. I have no idea where it's going, but it feels
right."
The completed work is called "The Sunday Suit". The suit is very
shiny, the background it not. It's based on an August Sander photo of
a peasant going to a funeral. In the picture, it looks like he's
wearing the only good suit he owns.
The three pages I just wrote -- for no obvious readon -- will probably
get worked into a large collage. Right now I picture a drawing to go
with each page. A book for -- SHE WROTE IT IN HER BOOK. A phone for
-- THE ORDINARY PEOPLE CALLED YOU. And a guilty face for -- YOU NEVER
CALLED THEM BACK. A tryptic?
This may change, of course.
Nik
---
The Nik Maack Art Gallery
http://www.chat.carleton.ca/~mrtribe
Now with exciting TEXT explaining why
each painting should not be burned.
Brandon J. Freels
> Tell me about your latest art or your latest surrealist acts. Yes,
> this means you. All of you. Do it now.
Most of these happened today [except for five---a work in progress].
Cataloging can be quite boring.
1) Flirted with an elderly woman
2) Scratched my balls infront of a church
3) Flashed my flashlight into the eyes of passing cars
4) Searched for her
5) Currently working on an unfinished collage where an enlarged Rembrant
detail is flanked by two hermaphrodites
6) Scribbled some illegible words into a notebook
7) Tried to read some of the illegible words in my notebook
8) Transcribed some of the illegible words in my notebook as "Ankh-haf" [can
someone explain?]
9) Told preacher Ray that he was an old fart
10) Went fishing at the town square
11) Caught a bus where the bus driver sat in the back of the bus
12) Found myself in the middle of a girl's high school soccer team
13) Answered a question even though I never heard the question
Galactor5
i think "she" (ankh-haf) was a passenger on the bus today and not in the town
square, Babaar.
i did upload some "works" this evening to a new webspace:
http://members.spree.com/thearts/galactor5/galactic.htm
nothing spectacular, esp. the calligraphy portrait i screwed up further
post-scan.
john
kiss me, im vulture
Leo Sgouros
Galactor5 <gala...@aol.com> wrote in message
news:19991027041258...@ng-cg1.aol.com...
Kristina
I sat and stared at a photo of Anglesea Pier. It reminds me of Rothko.
I cried for about half an hour...
I questioned the value of communication and newsgroups at large.
Wrote a whole heap of really bad poetry that needs massive editing.
Realised I got the syllable count for Haiku wrong.
Thought about taking all my clothes off and doing a webpage on the internet.
Read some of a biography on Amedeo Modigliani.
Thought about Frida Kahlo and how I would have loved to fuck her.
Looked through a bondage book of women spanking one another, photos from the
early 1900's. Sensational.
Cried some more...
Watched my lover limp around on one leg...something about this house and
blue black pinkie toes.
Drank too much coffee and smoked too many cigarettes.
Stared at a huge painting in the process and realised I hate it and need to
work over it.
It's 7.30pm now, I think I'd like a really good long swim...
Kristina.
Nikolaus Maack <ac...@freenet.carleton.ca> wrote in message
news:38163927....@news.ncf.carleton.ca...
Galactor5
dale houstman
Kristina <bu...@start.com.au> wrote in message
news:7v6gjj$ao6$1...@the-fly.zip.com.au...
> Bits of My Day:
>
> Thought about Frida Kahlo and how I would have loved to >fuck her.
Then you and I have something in common. But (and you know this) it would
have hurt her.
DMH
Galactor5
else's creation...
dale houstman
Nikolaus Maack <ac...@freenet.carleton.ca> wrote in message
news:38163927....@news.ncf.carleton.ca...
> Tell me about your latest art or your latest surrealist acts. >Yes, this
means you. All of you. Do it now.
although it is probably just another of your bits of "brown humor" this
obnoxious bossy tone, I will attempt an answer, although I think it contains
several flaws, the most obvious (to my convoluted mind) being the notion
that surrealism consists of a sporadic series of "acts" separated by
non-surrealist "down time." This is not how I conceive of surrealism.
In Dublin, we visited a church that contained some mummies in its basements.
While waiting to descend I happened to read about one "Christopher Pell" who
had been forced to give public confession for insulting a priest. As one of
my families names in Ireland is Pell, I immediately took a shine to this
pugnacious character, and assumed that in these less God-besotted times he
might well have avoided the confession. The altar at which he had confessed
still stood in the church, so I went to it and recanted for him.
While in the basement we were shown three mummies, one of which had its two
feet and the right hand chopped off. The feet were merely to fit it in the
coffin, but the hand was most likely punishment for thievery. So why was he
buried in such a prestigous spot? The guide explained that he must have
greatly reformed himself. I loudly proclaimed "papist sap!"
But - as I said - I don't conceive of surrealism as set of acts, but as a
continuous act of living. Thus, the usual daily acts of humor used to defuse
authority, or to undermine the futility of labor, strike me as both more
surreal and less useless than your primarily sub-artistic efforts, which
have all the wheeze and dust of effort. And you further complicate and dirt
these waters by what amounts to self-promotion.
As usual, you're trying too hard...
DMH
Nikolaus Maack
>although it is probably just another of your bits of "brown humor" this
>obnoxious bossy tone,
"dale houstman" wrote (in his final paragraph):
>But - as I said - I don't conceive of surrealism as set of acts, but as a
>continuous act of living.
[snip]
Would it be fair to consider the first and last paragraph of your post
as defensive padding? The rest of your post is interesting.
Nikolaus Maack
>i did upload some "works" this evening to a new webspace:
>http://members.spree.com/thearts/galactor5/galactic.htm
I wish my monitor wasn't so slightly fucked. Anything red turns
black, lately. (I see a red door and I want to paint it...)
But what I saw I liked. And if you like www.absurd.org, you'll
probably enjoy -- or already know of -- www.superbad.com, which might
be heaven.
Nikolaus Maack
wrote:
>I cried for about half an hour...
Why cry?
>Thought about taking all my clothes off and doing a webpage on the internet.
Would it be a web page about you taking off your clothes? Those are
very popular.
>Looked through a bondage book of women spanking one another, photos from the
>early 1900's. Sensational.
Pornography is an interesting art form. It is so naked. I enjoy
writing porn for this very reason -- because the substance is so
utterly non-existent, you get to play with style more than anything
else.
>Cried some more...
Why are you crying so much? No need to answer if the topic is a
painful one. I feel concern for people I barely know. It is my
greatest weakness and my greatest strength. It gets me beat up a lot.
Nikolaus Maack
<dm...@mindspring.com> wrote:
>although it is probably just another of your bits of "brown humor" this
Actually, this was an experiment. Someone in talk.bizarre told me
that communication should be judged a success -- not by whether or not
you get people to understand your ideas -- but by whether or not you
get people to DO the thing you wanted them to do. What's interesting
about this idea is it makes communication simpler.
For the last few weeks, I've been trying to get people to understand
my point of view, and failed. Yesterday I asked people to tell me
about their latest surrealist whatever, and achieved overwhelming
success.
Conclusion: you smell like my grandmother's left elbow, and she's been
dead for 23 years.
Nik said:
>> This may change, of course.
Nik
Lutegirl
can,and thrilled that I don't have to do fancy faux marbled flying logos
anymore.
I'll make my own Mars.
Surrealism will be my zip code.
Someday, I'm planning on moving in.
Andrea
Kristina
dale houstman <dm...@mindspring.com> wrote in message
news:7v6mln$7v5$1...@nntp3.atl.mindspring.net...
Yes it would have hurt her...
...perhaps sucking on her toes then or brushing her hair, or licking her
whole body while she speaks to me a language not literally understood but in
any attempt, maybe felt...
She was a remarkable artist. I am totally turned on by her mind, therefore
the rest follows...
For indulgence purposes here is something from her diary, I don't know if
you've read it...
The green miracle of the landscape
of my body becomes in you the
whole of nature. I fly
through it to caress the rounded
hills with my fingertips,
my hands sink into the
shadowy valleys in an urge to
possess and I'm enveloped in the embrace
of gentle branches, green
and cool. I penetrate the sex of
the whole earth, her heat
chars me and my entire body
is rubbed by the freshness of the ten-
der leaves. Their dew is the sweat
of an ever-new lover.
It's not love, or tenderness, or
affection, it's life itself, my
life, that I found when when I saw it
in your hands, in your mouth and
in your breasts. I have the taste of
almonds from your lips in my
mouth. Our worlds have
never gone outside. Only one
mountain can know the core of
another mountain.
Your presence floats for a moment or two
as if wrapping my whole
being in an anxious wait
for the morning. I notice that I'm
with you. At that instant
still full of sensations,
my hands are sunk
in oranges, and my body
feels surrounded by your
arms
Fascinan
>this means you. All of you. Do it now.
1) created a trialogue with mincemeat cookies
2) Tried to use my imagination and limited knowledge of astrophysics to
penetrate the theoretical black hole at the center of our amazing, spiral milky
way.
3) Had a few laughs with some friends by taking every word literally.
4) Did an amazing air guitar solo in rush hour traffic (Hendrix's All Along the
Watchtower)
5) Thought about mortality after hearing about golfer Payne Stewart's
horrifying death (I think this qualifies because the diaphanous quality of
being becomes surreal once we witness death -- the assumptions of at least 70
years of life crumble).
yea, it wasn't exactly a super-surreal few days there. gahhhh
Galactor5
necessarily representing the surrealistic or even orbiting the core of this
great black illusory avocado. That being said.
dale houstman
> Would it be fair to consider the first and last paragraph of your post
> as defensive padding? The rest of your post is interesting.
No, it would not be "fair" since what I was saying was that your notion of
surrealism as a discrete and sproadic series of (usually) willful acts
struck me as anti-thetical. I don't see how you might interpret that as
defensive, though your saying it is does strike me that way. It is amazing
(or at this point maybe not so amazing anymore) how you interpret any
disagreement (even rather benign disagreement) with your assumptions as
being defensive.
X asks for a chair made out of human blood
Y provides a chair but merely states that he does not conceive of a chair in
those terms
X calls Y defensive.
It would be bizarre if it weren't so banal...
DMH
Kristina
Nikolaus Maack <ac...@freenet.carleton.ca> wrote in message
news:3816a0fb....@news.ncf.carleton.ca...
> >obnoxious bossy tone,
>
> "dale houstman" wrote (in his final paragraph):
> >But - as I said - I don't conceive of surrealism as set of acts, but as a
> >continuous act of living.
> [snip]
>
> as defensive padding? The rest of your post is interesting.
Nik, surrealism is an approach to life, "a continuous act of living" as Dale
has pointed out. when I talk about processes relating to art, I'm not
talking about the technical aspects of creating that work in its entirety.
It isn't about that. It's about the journey that goes on along the
way....the imagination, the thoughts we have, what we observe and how we
take that in, what we take in.............and on and on.
So like art, surrealism in an ongoing experience, it has not cut off point.
It doesn'st stop when you stop painting, and it isn't about the (as I've
said) technical aspect of painting as such.
Kristina.
Kristina
> On Wed, 27 Oct 1999 19:33:52 +1000, "Kristina" <bu...@start.com.au>
> wrote:
> >I cried for about half an hour...
>
> Why cry?
Because I was sad ...(to simplify it extremely).
>
> >Thought about taking all my clothes off and doing a webpage on the
internet.
>
> Would it be a web page about you taking off your clothes? Those are
> very popular.
Not so much about taking clothes off (the process) , but being literally
half naked. I love all the tacky 60's images of the "sex kitten" they are
superb, but there is also a love of the theatrical in general, so primarliy
it's a very aesthetic thought at this stage...just a fleeting desire
really...I might just take some photos instead.
>
> >Looked through a bondage book of women spanking one another, photos from
the
> >early 1900's. Sensational.
>
> Pornography is an interesting art form. It is so naked. I enjoy
> writing porn for this very reason -- because the substance is so
> utterly non-existent, you get to play with style more than anything
> else.
That's interesting, what I like about porn is that I don't see it as "so
naked". I don't see all pornogrpahy as an artform either. i think it
fulfills a basic need pretty much (at best). Alot of it is sterile for me,
I get into the darker images of it, like other things in life, there has to
be something that tips me over the edge with it.....and it's hard to define,
but it's a collection of things. Perhaps the people, expressions,
situations, lighting, even the technical aspect of it. Just depends. I
just like the more nasty dark images (in general), there has to be some kind
of depth to it for me, regardless of why I'm looking at it.
what do you mean when you say writing porn....."because the substance is so
utterly non-existent"?
>
> >Cried some more...
>
> Why are you crying so much? No need to answer if the topic is a
> painful one. I feel concern for people I barely know. It is my
> greatest weakness and my greatest strength. It gets me beat up a lot.
Well don't worry about the crying Nik, it was just one of those days...you
know? : )
Kristina,
Kristina
>
> Actually, this was an experiment. Someone in talk.bizarre told me
> that communication should be judged a success -- not by whether or not
> you get people to understand your ideas -- but by whether or not you
> get people to DO the thing you wanted them to do. What's interesting
> about this idea is it makes communication simpler.
Manipulating and being rude to people does not warrant for any good longer
term communication. Why would anyone want to make someone DO what THEY want
anyway, that is so boring, and lacks any appeal in the first place.
>
> For the last few weeks, I've been trying to get people to understand
> my point of view, and failed. Yesterday I asked people to tell me
> about their latest surrealist whatever, and achieved overwhelming
> success.
Well I was going to point out in my initial response at how rude your intro
was, but I liked the idea of the excercise and my mind needed some form of
engagment so I contributed. I personally don't get into your attempt at
trying to GET people to DO what YOU want, I find it somewhat annoying, and
if you persisted on in this manner of communication, I would at some point
just ignore you, for the bitter taste it produces would be too far gone and
laden with maddening words to supress.
Kristina.
>
> Conclusion: you smell like my grandmother's left elbow, and she's been
> dead for 23 years.
>
> Nik said:
> >> This may change, of course.
>
W. Frettchen
> Tell me about your latest art or your latest surrealist acts. Yes,
> this means you. All of you. Do it now.
Ah, what the heck. Just today, in the midst of studying
thermodynamics (this is only partially relevant--think of it as massive
amounts of number crunching and formula-twiddling) I started doodling.
The first was a stylistic-drawn four-armed octopus. I thought it
might look nice as a shoulder-patch, when all was said and done, and I
think I might try making said patch myself.
The second was simply a curved, blurry line. I think it was going
to be something else, perhaps the neck and shoulders of a mythical
beastie, but making the line itself was much more entertaining.
Then I went back to thermodynamics. I think that was, in the end,
the most surreal.
elag
2. relate Rudolf Giuliani to Hitler's Degenerate Art Exhhibit
3. caress the green glass bead that was on the staircase
4. admire the landscape under the radiator
5. sow dissent
6. find interesting ways to sing the preamble to the Constitution of
The USA.