3230315
Nov 05
crotchkat-vantass:

juststrokemyglabella:

2spookysamy:

highonvodka:

themixedbagofspooky:

spoopy-len-in-a-dress:

riningear:

doryishness:

displaced-angel:

ryedragon:

inritum:

reblog and make a wish!this was removed from tumbrl due to “violating one or more of Tumblr’s Community Guidelines”, but since my wish came true the first time, I’m putting it back. :)

OH MY FUCKING GOD, IT’S BACK ON MY DASH.
THIS SHIT WORKS OKAY, I AM DEAD SERIOUS.
The last time I saw this on my dash, I didn’t think it would happen, so jokingly I wished I could go to a fun. concert.
AND GUESS WHAT, I WENT TO A FUCKING FUN. CONCERT.
THIS SHIT WORKS, TRY IT.

YOOOOOOO
I SAW THIS ON MY DASH THE OTHER DAY AND THOUGHT “ITS WORTH A TRY” SO I WISHED I COULD GET A 3DS
LITERALLY LIKE 4 DAYS LATER MY DAD SENT ME A PICTURE OF THE 3DS XL HE BOUGHT FOR ME WHILE I WAS AT SCHOOL
IM STILL FREAKING OUT ABOUT THIS

holy fuck, I didn’t expect this to work, I was like psh, whatever it’s just a quick reblog, but I wished my Dad would actually respond back to me AND HE FUCKING DID A FEW DAYS LATER, I GOT A FUCKING TEXT FROM MY DAD TODAY WHO HASN’T SPOKEN OR RESPONDED TO ME IN MONTHS HOLY FUCK WHAT IS THIS MAGIC IT WORKS. 

I WANTED TO SEE MY BOYFRIEND AND I DIDN’T THINK I’D GET DAYS OFF BUT THIS WEEKEND I’M HEADING UP THERE??? THIS IS CRAZY SHIT 

SO LIKE I JOKINGLY WISHED FOR MY OWN LEN KAGAMINE AND THEN LIKE A WEEK LATER I GOT A LEN NENDOROID??? H ELP

WTF OKAY SO THIS SHOT ACTUALLY WORKS BECAUSE WHEN I WISHED, I HAD WISHED MY CRUSH WOULD LIKE ME BACK AND GUESS WHAT? I HAVE A BOYFRIEND NOW. WHAT THE HELLLLL?????

ok I’ve said this before but IM DOING IT AGAIN THE FIRST TIME I SAW THIS, MY WISH DID COME TRUE SO I REBLOGED AGAIN AND SAID IT IN THE TAGS BUT THEN I WISHED FOR SMTH ELSE AND IT LITERALLY LITERALLY HAPPENED LIKE A COUPLE DAYS LATER WHAT THE HELL SO NOW IM WRITING THIS HERE FOR YOU BC I DONT BELIEVE IN THIS CRAP BUT STILL IT’S AN AWFULLY BIG COINCIDENCE

THE BOY I FELL I LOVE WITH LEFT TO TRAVEL THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD AND HAS BEEN GONE NOW FOR 3 MONTHS. WE HAVENT SPOKEN SINCE BECAUSE I DIDNT WANT TO MAKE HIM FEEL TRAPPED TO ME AND NOT ENJOY HIS TIME SO I WAITED FOR HIM TO CONTACT ME FIRST. I SAW THIS ON A PARTICULARLY LOW DAY WHEN I WAS MISSING HIM SO MUCH I CRIED FROM THE PAIN, GUYS I REALLY LOVE HIM, SO I THOUGHT MEH WHAT THE FUCK, AND WISHED HE WOULD JUST LET ME KNOW HE WAS OKAY.
GUYS.
HE FUCKING CALLED ME 20 MINUTES LATER
20 FUCKNG. MINUTES. LATER.
GOOD THINGS DO HAPPEN. AND ITS IN THIS POST.

I wish for someone to leave something in my ask.

OKAY SO I ASKED FOR A HEDGEHOG AND NOW GUESS WHO HAS A PET HEDGEHOG

crotchkat-vantass:

juststrokemyglabella:

2spookysamy:

highonvodka:

themixedbagofspooky:

spoopy-len-in-a-dress:

riningear:

doryishness:

displaced-angel:

ryedragon:

inritum:

reblog and make a wish!


this was removed from tumbrl due to “violating one or more of Tumblr’s Community Guidelines”, but since my wish came true the first time, I’m putting it back. :)

OH MY FUCKING GOD, IT’S BACK ON MY DASH.

THIS SHIT WORKS OKAY, I AM DEAD SERIOUS.

The last time I saw this on my dash, I didn’t think it would happen, so jokingly I wished I could go to a fun. concert.

AND GUESS WHAT, I WENT TO A FUCKING FUN. CONCERT.

THIS SHIT WORKS, TRY IT.

YOOOOOOO

I SAW THIS ON MY DASH THE OTHER DAY AND THOUGHT “ITS WORTH A TRY” SO I WISHED I COULD GET A 3DS

LITERALLY LIKE 4 DAYS LATER MY DAD SENT ME A PICTURE OF THE 3DS XL HE BOUGHT FOR ME WHILE I WAS AT SCHOOL

IM STILL FREAKING OUT ABOUT THIS

holy fuck, I didn’t expect this to work, I was like psh, whatever it’s just a quick reblog, but I wished my Dad would actually respond back to me AND HE FUCKING DID A FEW DAYS LATER, I GOT A FUCKING TEXT FROM MY DAD TODAY WHO HASN’T SPOKEN OR RESPONDED TO ME IN MONTHS HOLY FUCK WHAT IS THIS MAGIC IT WORKS. 

I WANTED TO SEE MY BOYFRIEND AND I DIDN’T THINK I’D GET DAYS OFF BUT THIS WEEKEND I’M HEADING UP THERE??? THIS IS CRAZY SHIT 

SO LIKE I JOKINGLY WISHED FOR MY OWN LEN KAGAMINE AND THEN LIKE A WEEK LATER I GOT A LEN NENDOROID??? H ELP

WTF OKAY SO THIS SHOT ACTUALLY WORKS BECAUSE WHEN I WISHED, I HAD WISHED MY CRUSH WOULD LIKE ME BACK AND GUESS WHAT? I HAVE A BOYFRIEND NOW. WHAT THE HELLLLL?????

ok I’ve said this before but IM DOING IT AGAIN THE FIRST TIME I SAW THIS, MY WISH DID COME TRUE SO I REBLOGED AGAIN AND SAID IT IN THE TAGS BUT THEN I WISHED FOR SMTH ELSE AND IT LITERALLY LITERALLY HAPPENED LIKE A COUPLE DAYS LATER WHAT THE HELL SO NOW IM WRITING THIS HERE FOR YOU BC I DONT BELIEVE IN THIS CRAP BUT STILL IT’S AN AWFULLY BIG COINCIDENCE

THE BOY I FELL I LOVE WITH LEFT TO TRAVEL THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD AND HAS BEEN GONE NOW FOR 3 MONTHS. WE HAVENT SPOKEN SINCE BECAUSE I DIDNT WANT TO MAKE HIM FEEL TRAPPED TO ME AND NOT ENJOY HIS TIME SO I WAITED FOR HIM TO CONTACT ME FIRST. I SAW THIS ON A PARTICULARLY LOW DAY WHEN I WAS MISSING HIM SO MUCH I CRIED FROM THE PAIN, GUYS I REALLY LOVE HIM, SO I THOUGHT MEH WHAT THE FUCK, AND WISHED HE WOULD JUST LET ME KNOW HE WAS OKAY.

GUYS.

HE FUCKING CALLED ME 20 MINUTES LATER

20 FUCKNG. MINUTES. LATER.

GOOD THINGS DO HAPPEN. AND ITS IN THIS POST.

I wish for someone to leave something in my ask.

OKAY SO I ASKED FOR A HEDGEHOG AND NOW GUESS WHO HAS A PET HEDGEHOG


Comments
1536
Nov 05
69withmino:

1st off I’d like to thank all of you for following me, thank you so much <33.
Anyways, my sister used to be a crazy fan of k-pop but not too long ago she got over it so she told me I could do this. All of these goods aren’t even used, she just bought them and went through the pics, as for the concert DVD she has only played it once. Excuse my shitty photography 
Rules:
You don’t have to be following me but followers get an advantage ^^
No giveaway blogs! You will immediately get excluded
Only reblog once (you can like it if you want)
Information:
I still don’t have a deadline set I will set one when it gets enough notes.
This won’t go to one person there will be a first, second and third place prize.
Worldwide shipping.

69withmino:

1st off I’d like to thank all of you for following me, thank you so much <33.

Anyways, my sister used to be a crazy fan of k-pop but not too long ago she got over it so she told me I could do this. All of these goods aren’t even used, she just bought them and went through the pics, as for the concert DVD she has only played it once. Excuse my shitty photography 

Rules:

  1. You don’t have to be following me but followers get an advantage ^^
  2. No giveaway blogs! You will immediately get excluded
  3. Only reblog once (you can like it if you want)

Information:

  • I still don’t have a deadline set I will set one when it gets enough notes.
  • This won’t go to one person there will be a first, second and third place prize.
  • Worldwide shipping.

Comments
8
Oct 13

polygonal:

Our Toyota Was Fantastic

Boulet’s absolutely beautiful comic on the magic falling asleep in the car as a kid.


Comments
47
Oct 09
thenearsightedmonkey:

Dear Making Comics Class,
I thought of you today while reading this essay by Madison Smartt Bell. The subject is creative writing but what he says applies to the process of drawing.
We talked about the self-conscious feeling we get while drawing in public. I wonder if there might be a clue in what he’s written here.
"I remembered something the novelist Andrew Lytle had told me about the process of composition. The first step and for him I believe the most important: "You put yourself apart from yourself, and you enter the imaginary world."
From “Narrative Design: A Structural Approach for Apprentice Writers
By Madison Smartt Bell
Excerpt: 
[Here he’s comparing how we get into the state of creative concentration to how we get into a form hypnosis.]
The first thing I noticed was how well that induction narrative succeeded in the task that you try and try to get beginning writing students to achieve: that is, to make a convincing address to all five senses. Literarily speaking, the induction narrative didn’t do much of anything else (it wasn’t supposed to) but it did this one thing extremely well. It created what George Garrett calls a sensuously affective texture, a sculptural surface that, so far as the mind’s experience of it was concerned, was virtually indistinguishable from reality. And the purpose for hypnosis was much the same as it would be for writing: to convince the subject/reader of the visual/ auditory/ tactile reality of what was being described. For the hypnotist it was very important to win this conviction at some location below the level of ordinary work-a-day left-brain awareness. It occurred to me then that the process of imagining a work to be written (as well, perhaps, as the process of reading it) might also require a similar kind of “deepening.”  Because after all, that sense of bifurcation, slow division of the consciousness, was really quite familiar. All hypnosis is self-hypnosis. Yes, I had been there before. Often. At my desk, for three or four hours every day.  Then I remembered something the novelist Andrew Lytle had told me about the process of composition. The first step and for him I believe the most important: “You put yourself apart from yourself, and you enter the imaginary world.”  You put yourself apart from yourself…. If he had set out to describe the initial stages of hypnosis, he couldn’t have done a better job. That state of being slightly out of yourself… detachment… obliviousness, as the people who are trying to get your attention may irritably describe it…. isn’t it familiar?  I remembered a photograph I had once seen of a friend of mine, a woman writer, caught behind her typewriter and clearly in the midst of deep concentration. She was a beautiful woman, but not in this picture. In a fundamental way she had ceased to be physically present at that moment. She had withdrawn so profoundly into the recesses of her imagination that her features had actually lost their form.  I remembered all the time I had spent in my childhood, day-dreaming— out to lunch, as they say. When it got good, I would often talk to myself quite audibly (to the dismay of my classmates). I have since partially broken myself of this habit— I still talk to myself (plenty) but I have quit moving my lips. And as for day-dreaming… when you get right down to it, day-dreaming is my vocation. You put yourself apart from yourself and you enter the imaginary world.  Then I recognized that the process of imagination that underlies creative writing, what happens as or just before you are putting the words down on the page, must inevitably involve a process of autohypnosis. Not that the practitioner would be likely to call it that. You could be doing it without knowing that you were. Most likely you would never have heard of hypnosis, certainly not in such an application. You might call it meditation. You might not call it anything. But you would sure enough be doing it, any time you worked successfully, happily and well.

thenearsightedmonkey:

Dear Making Comics Class,

I thought of you today while reading this essay by Madison Smartt Bell. The subject is creative writing but what he says applies to the process of drawing.

We talked about the self-conscious feeling we get while drawing in public. I wonder if there might be a clue in what he’s written here.

"I remembered something the novelist Andrew Lytle had told me about the process of composition. The first step and for him I believe the most important: "You put yourself apart from yourself, and you enter the imaginary world."

From “Narrative Design: A Structural Approach for Apprentice Writers

By Madison Smartt Bell

Excerpt: 

[Here he’s comparing how we get into the state of creative concentration to how we get into a form hypnosis.]

The first thing I noticed was how well that induction narrative succeeded in the task that you try and try to get beginning writing students to achieve: that is, to make a convincing address to all five senses. Literarily speaking, the induction narrative didn’t do much of anything else (it wasn’t supposed to) but it did this one thing extremely well. It created what George Garrett calls a sensuously affective texture, a sculptural surface that, so far as the mind’s experience of it was concerned, was virtually indistinguishable from reality. And the purpose for hypnosis was much the same as it would be for writing: to convince the subject/reader of the visual/ auditory/ tactile reality of what was being described. For the hypnotist it was very important to win this conviction at some location below the level of ordinary work-a-day left-brain awareness. It occurred to me then that the process of imagining a work to be written (as well, perhaps, as the process of reading it) might also require a similar kind of “deepening.”

Because after all, that sense of bifurcation, slow division of the consciousness, was really quite familiar. All hypnosis is self-hypnosis. Yes, I had been there before. Often. At my desk, for three or four hours every day.

Then I remembered something the novelist Andrew Lytle had told me about the process of composition. The first step and for him I believe the most important: “You put yourself apart from yourself, and you enter the imaginary world.”

You put yourself apart from yourself…. If he had set out to describe the initial stages of hypnosis, he couldn’t have done a better job. That state of being slightly out of yourself… detachment… obliviousness, as the people who are trying to get your attention may irritably describe it…. isn’t it familiar?

I remembered a photograph I had once seen of a friend of mine, a woman writer, caught behind her typewriter and clearly in the midst of deep concentration. She was a beautiful woman, but not in this picture. In a fundamental way she had ceased to be physically present at that moment. She had withdrawn so profoundly into the recesses of her imagination that her features had actually lost their form.

I remembered all the time I had spent in my childhood, day-dreaming— out to lunch, as they say. When it got good, I would often talk to myself quite audibly (to the dismay of my classmates). I have since partially broken myself of this habit— I still talk to myself (plenty) but I have quit moving my lips. And as for day-dreaming… when you get right down to it, day-dreaming is my vocation. You put yourself apart from yourself and you enter the imaginary world.

Then I recognized that the process of imagination that underlies creative writing, what happens as or just before you are putting the words down on the page, must inevitably involve a process of autohypnosis. Not that the practitioner would be likely to call it that. You could be doing it without knowing that you were. Most likely you would never have heard of hypnosis, certainly not in such an application. You might call it meditation. You might not call it anything. But you would sure enough be doing it, any time you worked successfully, happily and well.


Comments
136
Oct 09
Steven Soderbergh's exit interview

Comments
366
Oct 09
austinkleon:


Brian Eno’s Diary: A Year With Swollen Appendices  Okay, so this is two books: 300 or so pages are the diary Eno kept in 1995, and 100 or so pages are the “swollen appendices,” little mini-essays on various topics. Buried in these pages is probably the most exciting way of looking at art and music that I’ve come across — I’ve recently joked that I could write the best book on art out there just by cutting and pasting excerpts from Eno interviews — but that’s just the problem: it’s all sort of buried.1 There are gems to be had, but you have to wade through Eno recalling his days spent enlarging women’s butts in Photoshop (he compares his time-wasting habit to “chronic alcoholism”), musing on masturbation (“hanging on to the only thing you can rely on”), going to see Die Hard With A Vengeance (“I really enjoyed it”), peeing in a bottle while watching Monty Python, then wondering what it tasted like, along with a “mishmash of ideas, observations, admirations, speculations and grumbles.”
Add that to the fact that Faber paid him a 100,000,000 pound (could that really be the right number?) advance to write a book, and several years later, only towards the middle of 1995 when his friend Stewart Brand said, “Why don’t you assume you’ve written your book already — and all you have to do now is find it?” did he think, “Ah! I’ll publish my diary,” and it’s not exactly surprising that this book is out-of-print. (I read a PDF on my iPad in GoodReader, which let me mark up the pages. First time doing this.)
As for the diary, I found Eno’s description of balancing family and work life very heartening. He emphasizes over and over what an essential collaborator his wife, Anthea, is (“one of the reasons I am capable of running three careers in parallel is because I married my manager”) and his description of spending time with his family and being a dad, cooking and dancing to old doo-wop records is really charming. (Of course, it’s easier to have an integrated career and family life when you have a nanny, but whatever.)
What struck me over and over reading the book (and his 1995 Wired interview) is how much he had nailed about what was on the horizon 17 years ago. Below, I’ll excerpt some of my favorite ideas.
Art is about scenius, not genius.
Eno rails against what he calls the “Big Man” theory of history, “where events are changed by the occasional brilliant or terrible man, working in heroic isolation.” Instead Eno believes that the world is “a cooperative enterprise,” “constantly being remade by all its inhabitants.”

The reality of how culture and ideas evolve is much closer to the one we as pop musicians are liable to accept — a continuous toing and froing of ideas and imitations and misconstruals, of things becoming thinkable because they are suddenly technically possible, of action and reaction, than the traditional fine-art model which posits an inspired individual sorting it all out for himself and then delivering it unto a largely uncomprehending and ungrateful world.

Art is not an object, but a trigger for experience.

Stop thinking about art works as objects, and start thinking about them as triggers for experiences (Roy Ascott’s phrase). That solves a lot of problems: we don’t have to argue about whether photographs are art, or whether performances are art, or whether Carl Andre’s bricks or Andres Serranos’s piss or little Richard’s ‘Long Tall Sally’ are art, because we say, ‘Art is something that happens, a process, not a quality, and all sorts of things can make it happen.’ (…_ Suppose you redescribe the job ‘artist’ as ‘a person who creates situations in which you can have art experiences’.

All artists are con(fidence) artists.

The term “confidence trick” has a bad meaning, but it shouldn’t. In culture, confidence is the currency of value. Once you surrender the idea of intrinsic, objective value, you start asking the question “if the value isn’t in there, where does it come from?” It’s obviously from the transaction: it’s the product of the quality of a relationship between me, the observer, and something else. So how is that relationship stimulated, enriched, given value? By creating an atmosphere of confidence where I am ready to engage with and perhaps surrender to the world it suggests.

Eno also suggests, “People should be trained in lying from a young age. That way you become healthily skeptical (and also train yourself to imagine what things would be like if something else was true).”
The limitations of a new medium will one day become its signature.

Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit — all these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided.
It’s the sound of failure: so much of modern art is the sound of things going out of control, of a medium pushing to its limits and breaking apart. The distorted guitar is the sound of something too loud for the medium supposed to carry it. The blues singer with the cracked voice is the sound of an emotional cry too powerful for the throat that releases it. The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them.

“Try to make things that can become better in other people’s minds than they were in yours.”
Eno rejects the term “interactive,” and suggests “unfinished” instead. He suggests that new culture-makers will move away from providing “pure, complete experiences to providing the platforms from which people then fashion their own experiences.”

Once we get used to the idea that we are no longer consumers of ‘finished’ works, but that we are people who engage in conversations and interactions with things, we find ourselves leaving a world of ‘know your own station’ passivity and we start to develop a taste for active engagement. We stop regarding things as fixed and unchangeable, as preordained, and we increasingly find ourselves practising the idea that we have some control. Most importantly, perhaps, we might start to think the same way about ourselves: that we are unfinished (and unfinishable) beings whose task is constantly to re-examine and remix our ideas and our identities.

Art is where we go to become our best selves.

What a bastard Beethoven sounds — arrogant, paranoid, disagreeable. Why am I still surprised when people turn out to be not at all like their work? A suspicion of the idea that art is the place where you become what you’d like to be… rather than what you already are…

Stop obsessing over all the possible journeys you could take, and just start off on one.
Over and over, Eno expresses a desire for less choices in the process of art-making, not more. ”Less exploring of all the possible journeys you could make; more determination to take one journey (even if the choice of it is initially rather arbitrary) and make it take you somewhere.“

My ideal is probably based on the story I heard years ago of how the Japanese calligraphers used to work — a whole day spent grinding inks and preparing brushes and paper, and then, as the sun begins to go down, a single burst of fast and inspired action.
That cultural image — which you find throughout Japanese culture from Sumo to Sushi — is very interesting and quite different from ours. We admire people who stick at it doggedly and evenly (I also admire them) and put in the right amount of hours. But more and more I want to try that Japanese model: to get everything in place (including your mind, of course) first, and then to just give yourself one chance. It seems thrilling.

“If you don’t call it art, you’re likely to get a better result.”
Eno says, “people do much better when they don’t think they’re being artists,” and when they do think decide they’re being artists, they “suddenly turn out crap.”

Oldenburg’s earlier stuff — before he knew what he was doing — looked best. So often the case that people work best when they are stretching out over an abyss of ignorance, hanging on to a thin branch of “what-is-still-possible”, tantalized by the future.

And some one-liners:
“People who don’t seem to care whether or not they’re liked are nearly always in some way likeable.”
"‘Why the fuck am I doing this?’ — the question that always precedes something worthwhile.”
“Cooking is a way of listening to the radio.”
“Luck is being ready.”
“Spending lots of money is often an admission of lack of research, preparation, and imagination.”
“By the time a whole technology exists for something it probably isn’t the most interesting thing to be doing.”
If you don’t feel like picking up the book, watch this lecture instead. It contains many of the ideas, and Eno draws!

Come to think of it, David Byrne, one of Eno’s collaborators, his book How Music Works is probably much more successful in laying out many of the same ideas. And as odd a pairing as they might seem, Will Oldham’s ideas about performance and audience match up pretty well with a lot of this stuff. ↩

austinkleon:

Brian Eno’s Diary: A Year With Swollen Appendices Okay, so this is two books: 300 or so pages are the diary Eno kept in 1995, and 100 or so pages are the “swollen appendices,” little mini-essays on various topics. Buried in these pages is probably the most exciting way of looking at art and music that I’ve come across — I’ve recently joked that I could write the best book on art out there just by cutting and pasting excerpts from Eno interviews — but that’s just the problem: it’s all sort of buried.1 There are gems to be had, but you have to wade through Eno recalling his days spent enlarging women’s butts in Photoshop (he compares his time-wasting habit to “chronic alcoholism”), musing on masturbation (“hanging on to the only thing you can rely on”), going to see Die Hard With A Vengeance (“I really enjoyed it”), peeing in a bottle while watching Monty Python, then wondering what it tasted like, along with a “mishmash of ideas, observations, admirations, speculations and grumbles.”

Add that to the fact that Faber paid him a 100,000,000 pound (could that really be the right number?) advance to write a book, and several years later, only towards the middle of 1995 when his friend Stewart Brand said, “Why don’t you assume you’ve written your book already — and all you have to do now is find it?” did he think, “Ah! I’ll publish my diary,” and it’s not exactly surprising that this book is out-of-print. (I read a PDF on my iPad in GoodReader, which let me mark up the pages. First time doing this.)

As for the diary, I found Eno’s description of balancing family and work life very heartening. He emphasizes over and over what an essential collaborator his wife, Anthea, is (“one of the reasons I am capable of running three careers in parallel is because I married my manager”) and his description of spending time with his family and being a dad, cooking and dancing to old doo-wop records is really charming. (Of course, it’s easier to have an integrated career and family life when you have a nanny, but whatever.)

What struck me over and over reading the book (and his 1995 Wired interview) is how much he had nailed about what was on the horizon 17 years ago. Below, I’ll excerpt some of my favorite ideas.

Art is about scenius, not genius.

Eno rails against what he calls the “Big Man” theory of history, “where events are changed by the occasional brilliant or terrible man, working in heroic isolation.” Instead Eno believes that the world is “a cooperative enterprise,” “constantly being remade by all its inhabitants.”

The reality of how culture and ideas evolve is much closer to the one we as pop musicians are liable to accept — a continuous toing and froing of ideas and imitations and misconstruals, of things becoming thinkable because they are suddenly technically possible, of action and reaction, than the traditional fine-art model which posits an inspired individual sorting it all out for himself and then delivering it unto a largely uncomprehending and ungrateful world.

Art is not an object, but a trigger for experience.

Stop thinking about art works as objects, and start thinking about them as triggers for experiences (Roy Ascott’s phrase). That solves a lot of problems: we don’t have to argue about whether photographs are art, or whether performances are art, or whether Carl Andre’s bricks or Andres Serranos’s piss or little Richard’s ‘Long Tall Sally’ are art, because we say, ‘Art is something that happens, a process, not a quality, and all sorts of things can make it happen.’ (…_ Suppose you redescribe the job ‘artist’ as ‘a person who creates situations in which you can have art experiences’.

All artists are con(fidence) artists.

The term “confidence trick” has a bad meaning, but it shouldn’t. In culture, confidence is the currency of value. Once you surrender the idea of intrinsic, objective value, you start asking the question “if the value isn’t in there, where does it come from?” It’s obviously from the transaction: it’s the product of the quality of a relationship between me, the observer, and something else. So how is that relationship stimulated, enriched, given value? By creating an atmosphere of confidence where I am ready to engage with and perhaps surrender to the world it suggests.

Eno also suggests, “People should be trained in lying from a young age. That way you become healthily skeptical (and also train yourself to imagine what things would be like if something else was true).”

The limitations of a new medium will one day become its signature.

Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit — all these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided.

It’s the sound of failure: so much of modern art is the sound of things going out of control, of a medium pushing to its limits and breaking apart. The distorted guitar is the sound of something too loud for the medium supposed to carry it. The blues singer with the cracked voice is the sound of an emotional cry too powerful for the throat that releases it. The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them.

“Try to make things that can become better in other people’s minds than they were in yours.”

Eno rejects the term “interactive,” and suggests “unfinished” instead. He suggests that new culture-makers will move away from providing “pure, complete experiences to providing the platforms from which people then fashion their own experiences.”

Once we get used to the idea that we are no longer consumers of ‘finished’ works, but that we are people who engage in conversations and interactions with things, we find ourselves leaving a world of ‘know your own station’ passivity and we start to develop a taste for active engagement. We stop regarding things as fixed and unchangeable, as preordained, and we increasingly find ourselves practising the idea that we have some control. Most importantly, perhaps, we might start to think the same way about ourselves: that we are unfinished (and unfinishable) beings whose task is constantly to re-examine and remix our ideas and our identities.

Art is where we go to become our best selves.

What a bastard Beethoven sounds — arrogant, paranoid, disagreeable. Why am I still surprised when people turn out to be not at all like their work? A suspicion of the idea that art is the place where you become what you’d like to be… rather than what you already are…

Stop obsessing over all the possible journeys you could take, and just start off on one.

Over and over, Eno expresses a desire for less choices in the process of art-making, not more. ”Less exploring of all the possible journeys you could make; more determination to take one journey (even if the choice of it is initially rather arbitrary) and make it take you somewhere.“

My ideal is probably based on the story I heard years ago of how the Japanese calligraphers used to work — a whole day spent grinding inks and preparing brushes and paper, and then, as the sun begins to go down, a single burst of fast and inspired action.

That cultural image — which you find throughout Japanese culture from Sumo to Sushi — is very interesting and quite different from ours. We admire people who stick at it doggedly and evenly (I also admire them) and put in the right amount of hours. But more and more I want to try that Japanese model: to get everything in place (including your mind, of course) first, and then to just give yourself one chance. It seems thrilling.

“If you don’t call it art, you’re likely to get a better result.”

Eno says, “people do much better when they don’t think they’re being artists,” and when they do think decide they’re being artists, they “suddenly turn out crap.”

Oldenburg’s earlier stuff — before he knew what he was doing — looked best. So often the case that people work best when they are stretching out over an abyss of ignorance, hanging on to a thin branch of “what-is-still-possible”, tantalized by the future.

And some one-liners:

  • “People who don’t seem to care whether or not they’re liked are nearly always in some way likeable.”
  • "‘Why the fuck am I doing this?’ — the question that always precedes something worthwhile.”
  • “Cooking is a way of listening to the radio.”
  • “Luck is being ready.”
  • “Spending lots of money is often an admission of lack of research, preparation, and imagination.”
  • “By the time a whole technology exists for something it probably isn’t the most interesting thing to be doing.”

If you don’t feel like picking up the book, watch this lecture instead. It contains many of the ideas, and Eno draws!


  1. Come to think of it, David Byrne, one of Eno’s collaborators, his book How Music Works is probably much more successful in laying out many of the same ideas. And as odd a pairing as they might seem, Will Oldham’s ideas about performance and audience match up pretty well with a lot of this stuff. 


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Sushi Cat: A Magical Combination.

"Mom, why am I sushi?"


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39068
Aug 24

(Source: ohsoloveleee)


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138
Aug 21

As detailed here in the British Medical Journal, staff at St George’s Hospital Medical School decided to write an algorithm that would automate the first round of its admissions process. The formulae used historical patterns in the characteristics of candidates whose applications were traditionally rejected to filter out new candidates whose profiles matched those of the least successful applicants.

By 1979 the list of candidates selected by the algorithms was a 90-95% match for those chosen by the selection panel, and in 1982 it was decided that the whole initial stage of the admissions process would be handled by the model. Candidates were assigned a score without their applications having passed a single human pair of eyes, and this score was used to determine whether or not they would be interviewed.

Quite aside from the obvious concerns that a student would have upon finding out a computer was rejecting their application, a more disturbing discovery was made. The admissions data that was used to define the model’s outputs showed bias against females and people with non-European-looking names.


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150026
Jul 25

loosetoon:

Early 70’s behind the scenes of Sesame Street with the Muppets.


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