#photo #dessin #collage
#association d'images #mots

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to see them big (it works sometimes)



lundi 18 avril 2011

i was thinking of art projects and not doing them (as usual)

you decide that you will sit here and write, as often as you can, possibly every day, for a few minutes. use the shower just before to get some ideas together. and use the 2am-4am time slot.
tonight you’re surrounded by god-only-knows-how-many (too many) twenteenagers, that all are way too sophisticated (each in his / her own way), you’re safe

that is studio (atelier) lyf (life / vida / vie)
everyone had, has or is having a studio lyf. B has studio lyf. E has studio lyf and there was a point in his life when he had two studio lyfs. M and F have a studio in which they lead their own separate studio lyfs. now S, Y, M and me are having collective studio lyf and S even has two when she’s not on a break because her life outside the studio IS studio lyf.

you discover there’s this thing called an irony mark (it’s basically a mirrored question mark) and you will now use it in sentences like “i really know what you’re talking about” or “this looks great, really”.
no. really.
and there’s that sudden dream about football (the soccer kind), and that other dream that seems like the sequel. woods, balloon(s) and then buying clothes (shoes and the sales girl speaks to you in russian) and then water and then a competition, walking down a paved street and then a city.
and it really feels like it begins at the exact same point where the other one from a day or two before ended.

it’s unfortunate what we find pleasing to the touch and pleasing to the eye is seldom the same. seldom only seldom only.
like you want to dance with / to / for L right now. (right now. right. now.) but Y is gonna read you a fairy tale out of his magic hat, M is gonna have meticulous fruits, beverages, bluffing rocky peanuts jumping out of a max ernst landscape with you, never-ending fingernail blood and meat (the yellow / pink / white kind) and ever-lasting cigarettes. because he’s younger. because. he’s. younger. and S will just have to sit there upon some dead weather background music and do her stuff and she knows what she’s doing.
the rest is just blur.

— what, what makes a man ? is it being prepared to do the right thing ? whatever the cost? isn’t that that makes a man ?
— ummmmm sure. that and a pair of testicles.
— you’re joking. but perhaps you’re right. perhaps. you’re. right.

               § Apr 18, 2011

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