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Archives for posts with tag: Richard Evans
Resonance FM, A meditation on Witches
An A Moment of Eternal Noise radio special on Witches with guests Una Hamilton Helle curator of the touring exhibition Waking the Witch and exhibiting artist Verity Birt. First broadcast in November on Resonance FM.
This one hour show features sound collages, spoken word, soundtracks, new music, field recordings and discussion covering various Witch related issues including how Witches in art and popular culture can reflect social concerns such as gender, labour division, exploitation and resistance.
Image – Performance still from Deformation Attends Her by Verity Birt, performed on the Vernal Equinox. Dance by Alys North, readings by Verity Birt and sound by Philip Serfaty. https://www.veritybirt.co.uk/
Tags Resonance FM, Richard Evans, Una Hamilton Helle, Verity Birt
Categories Art, Avant-Garde Music, Experimental Music, Radio, Soundtracks, Spoken Word
A Moment of Eternal Noise on London Fields Radio Lippard > Cruise > Verhoeven
A Moment of Eternal Noise stitches together samples, field recordings, interviews and tracks taken from recent cultural events, new music releases and audio archives.
This (death of) Summer mix jumps from Block Universe Performing Arts Festival with sound artist Hanne Lippard to field recordings at the Baptistery in Pisa via Tom Cruise and finishes with an interview with Julie Verhoeven.
The image is taken from Julie Verhoeven's collection of vintage ephemeral which can be seen at http://julieverhoeven.tumblr.com/
Tracks excerpts and samples include…
Stein Um Stein, Vierzehn
Dab, John Oswald
Analogue Mountains, Lucrecia Dalt
The Girl I Haven't Met, Kudasai
Gothic Submarine, Delia Derbyshire
Move Brilliancy, Bobby Fisher's 21 moves
Reflection, Hanne Lippard
Dark/Light 1, Meredith Monk
These Boots Are Made for Walking, Crispin Glover
Smooth Operator, Sade
Winer Morning II (with Robert De Niro), Woodkid & Nils Frahm
Tags Art, London Fields Radio, Richard Evans
Categories Art, Avant-Garde Music, Drone, Radio, Spoken Word
Artist and Magenta Plains director Chris Dorland interviewed in his New Jersey studio
Chris Dorland interviewed in his New Jersey studio in May 2018. The interview covers his art practice, influences, struggles, materials, his role as director and founder of Magenta Plains gallery, NYC and his recent show at Aetopoulos Gallery, Athens..Christ Dorland http://chris-dorland.com/Aetopoulos Gallery http://www.aetopoulos.info/Magenta Plains http://magentaplains.com/
Tags Aetopoulos Gallery, Chris Dorland, Magenta Plains, Richard Evans
Categories Art, Interview, Spoken Word
A Moment of Eternal Noise on London Fields Radio Stockhausen > Murray > Eno
A Moment of Eternal Noise weaves together samples, field recordings, interviews and tracks taken from recent cultural events, new music releases and audio archives.
This months highlights include Ligeti's Metronome performance at the British library, Brian Eno on why not too get a job, Sigur Ros's new project Route One, Ruben Östlund's film The Square, Bill Murray, Jonathan Wilson and classic Nino Rota. Photo features Bill Murray and Karlheinz Stockhausen.
This months mix also includes a new feature The Random Track of Kindness. Here we play a random(ish) track dedicated to a person who performed a random altruistic act – such as buying a random stranger coffee. Did you witness such an act today? If so please email the radio station so I can feature it on future shows.
Tracks, excerpts and samples include…
Stockhausen on human evolution
Struktur II, Karlheinz Stockhausen
Tired of Getting Pushed around, 2 Men and A Drum
The Square, Film Trailer
How to act like an ape, Terry Notary
The Radom Track of Kindness – I think were alone now, The Rubinoos
Piano Solo from the movie Plein Soleil (Purple Noon), Nino Rota
Poème symphonique, György Ligeti
Genetically (Central Processing Unit), Nadia Struiwigh
Mod 9EX, Andreas Gursky and Ritchie Hawtin
Don't get a job, Brian Eno
Sigur Rós – Route One
Talk excerpt, Richard Evans and Brian Dawn Chalkey
Memories of You, Benny Goodman
Over the Midnight, Jonathan Wilson
Tags Bill Murray, Brian Eno, Karlheinz Stockhausen, Richard Evans
Categories Art, Contemporary Art, Interview, London Fields Radio
Chelsea M.A. professional practice talk with Richard Evans interviewed by Brian Dawn Chalkley
After talking to Brian Dawn Chalkley about contributing to a show for our project space FLAT:TWO he invited himself around my studio and bought the entire Chelsea M.A. with him. We recorded the interview and here it is in it's entirety discussing the struggles and successes of making work. Covering all the important chapters of my career from studying at Chelsea to showing in commercial galleries, moving to New York and running project spaces. Image is The Ship project space on Cable street in 2002.
Tags Art, Brian Dawn Chalkley, Richard Evans
Categories Art, Interview
A Moment of Eternal Noise on London Fields Radio, January 2018
Richard Evans presents the first A Moment of Eternal Noise Radio show on London Fields Radio live from Wilton Way Cafe with special guest Rut Blees Luxemburg who discusses her recent show at Dominique Fiat Gallery in Paris. The show continues the website's interest in connections between place, sound, music, film, art and narrative with interviews, spoken word, field recordings, sound and music. This months show takes a look at Alfred Hitchcock, early synthesizer the Trautonium, ornithology, author Amy Liptrot, T.S. Elliot, Nils Frahm and fan made Bladerunner soundtracks.
Tracks and excerpts include,
Le pas du Chat Noir, Anouar Brahem
When, Vincent Gallo
Diane, The Bachelors
The Days of Pearly Spencer, David McWilliams
Paper Trails, Darkside
Bird of Space, Bonnie Dobson
High Flying Bird, Judy Henske
The More I See You, Chris Montez
JF Sebastian, Vangelis (Bladerunner, Esper Version)
The Prodigal Son Brings Death, Vangelis (Bladerunner, Esper Version)
The Duke Arrives, John Carpenter
Have a Cigar, Gabriel Yared
Familiar, Nils Frahm
T.S.Eliot, The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock
Poor Lazrus, Dave Van Ronk
Tags A Moment of Eternal Noise, London Fields Radio, Richard Evans
Categories Art, Radio
A World of Its Own
The video A World of Its Own was filmed in 2014 and features artist Elif Boyner on a road trip from the Andrew Wyeth painting Christina's World in the Museum of Modern Art New York to the house in the painting, The Olsen House in Cushing, Maine.
Tags Andrew Wyeth, Christina's World, Elif Boyner, Richard Evans
Via Appia, 1905
EXT. HOLLOWAY PRISON – DAY
Establishing shot.
INT. PSYCHIATRIST'S OFFICE
This is a utilitarian room, obviously part of an institution. Two small pictures are hung on a gray stone brick wall. A chesterfield sofa and chair sit in the middle of the room. Soft light illuminates the scene from one standing lamp. There is one window with diamond shaped bars visible. Both characters are familiar with each other but not friendly, Chris sits on the sofa slouching, Dr. Adams sits on the chair.
It was a long slow trip, the night before last.
DR.ADAMS
Studies have shown sleeping with recorded, organized sound can effect not just the quality of your sleep but also…
My dreams?
Yes, but also your daily behavior.
"Ah, ha, but this is not a dream, as I explained before I transported myself into what appeared to be a Piranesi drawing using my fiction/reality machine.
Ah ha, sooo. Sound can affect your dream life. A study by a large foreign language teaching company found that when their subjects fell asleep with their headphones on the next day they would start throwing foreign words into regular conversation. Haven't you noticed how you no longer see these language courses being advertised?
I haven't noticed because I've been locked in here for the last seven years but I hazard a guess that someone sued for dream damage?
Yes. Well something like that.
I'll remember that when I brush up on my Franglais before a tour of Burgundy and the great wine regions of Eastern France. But as I said this was not a dream, I went on a trip through a portal created by the fiction transducer machine into a Piranesi etching that I fed into it.
Right, the 19th century engraver and fantasy architect of prisons?
Dr. Adams quietly releases a chuckle.
Yes but the world I entered expanded far beyond the confines of the etching which I think was of Via Appia in Rome. The road famous for many things including crucifying 6,000 slaves after Spartacus's uprising. About the same amount of prisoners kept in British prisons with indeterminate sentences. Just incase you were wondering.
That is fascinating, you've obviously been using the internet again….
No. The library. Anyway after the transportation I was dropped into the middle of this etching. All around me were huge empty plinths; family crypts bearing ornate texts in different languages, tombstones, and models of buildings. Under the buildings were catacombs. I don't know how I knew this, but I did.
Chris pauses as if struggling to remember something important.
Of course Piranesi's visions were classical fantasies based on real places in Rome but he wanted them to be built. They never were so I was also wondering if it could have been some kind of time travel. Maybe in the future the earth will be destroyed by an alien spaceship then rebuilt but the only book the construction company had was of Piranesi's etchings. What do you think?"
I think I get the jist.
Dr. Adams scribbles something in his Moleskine.
Then I looked down, the edge of my boot caressed a black puddle corralled in by a circle of broken cobble stones. I'm wearing brown high-healed boots and a tweed hunting dress. I don't know how I know but its 1913 and I'm in a horrific E.M.Forster Novel. Where Angels Fear to Tread maybe.
Dr. Adams is still playing with his notebook.
Is that something your read recently?
No, I've only seen the film a long time ago, as a student I think.
So then what happened? This is most interesting.
Dr. Adams keeps staring at his notebooks he is now drawing ever-decreasing circles.
Then a girl ran up who I immediately assumed was Lilia Herriton, a young English widow who had died in giving birth to a son. She seems to have mistaken me for her sister. The strangest thing happens instead of her speaking words there's just a rustling. Her mouth is moving but the sound is not emanating from her body. It is a noise on the edge of noise, as if a human voice was played through a 'wind synthesizer' as if the sound of wind had been compressed, all the top and bottom frequencies removed. I paused and stared at her.
Her communication was reduced to a slow opening and closing of her mouth. Obviously what she was trying to articulate was of some importance. Then I noticed the noise was coming from the cracks, the spaces between the stones, between the buildings… The space in between things.
Whatever moral dilemma we were going through, whatever eccentric discussion this omni-present E.M.Forster was trying to convey it was being articulated as a hum. It was a sound that described all the space in between the gravestones, the gargoyles and the cracked slabs. A sound not from the heavens but of the empty space here on Earth or at least on Piranesi's stroke E.M. Forster's Earth. I thought that maybe this is punishment for either watching bad movies or for spending too much time looking at Piranesi etchings.
The picture had somehow risen up – in revolt.
Ahha, so how long did this err, scene continue for?
It hasn't finished, it got very noisy so I decided to take a break.
Ok and you you'll return to it when you reactivate the fiction/reality machine thing.
Yes, the fiction transposer, translating fiction or making fiction real, maybe it should be called a reality ficionator, well anyway I'm going to revisit tomorrow. Although I have a few other new slides I'd like to scan into it. Slides of a holiday in Estonia, photographed by some German tourists was sent to me by my brother. Maybe you should come along?
Dr. Adams continues drawing the circles in his notebook, somewhat oblivious to the question.
Text: Via Appia by Richard Evans.
Image : Giovanni Battista Piranesi, Via Appia and Via Ardeatina, from Le Antichita Romane, 1756
Tags Richard Evans
Categories Art, Drone
Coolsville, 1195
https://amomentofeternalnoise.files.wordpress.com/2014/10/ausform.mp3
I am so fucking distracted not only accidentally distracted by an event that happened on this morning's trip from the village to the house but by trying to be intentionally distracted. However, inside these diversions I'm searching for a driving force that will direct my performance.
He has shouted again in his insidious, attractive Bavarian accent. He is a child and I literally can't stand his voice any longer. But what can I do? More plays in dreary Darmstadt?
Oh, this is good. I've already wasted 15 seconds. It's really not easy putting on this state of mind, this necessary exercise; a constant internal monologue. Distraction, concentration, and distortion.
Slowly I lift my head and I can feel the second camera taking over, Andrea looks knowingly pensive.
The wind in the trees has a perfect momentum echoing the delicate sound of nothing being played on the turntable. Last night at the bar Raben was trying out records, matching composers to pills. He ended with what he will dub the scene with; an all too obvious choice of Mahler's eighth symphony, he is such a sentimental phony, why is he still around? Did R.W. not stop fucking him last year?
It's easy to smile and I can tell R.W. is enjoying this. I drink in his eternal character and externalize it through the tight corners of my lips, hoping and knowing that the lip-gloss has a perfect, tight uncrackable surface. Why can I never believe a reality that someone else creates, even when it is on my own body?
I just don't have faith, spiritually or practically.
The truth evades me in every splintered second. Anxiety crawls into every part of my body and always has control…
Good, this is working I can turn my head, keep the smile, keep the negative thoughts yet remember as R.W. said 'like a machine, a romantic anarchy in movement.' I therefore turn my head as if it were a perfect sphere locked onto a pole, joined by a greased socket. Then I let my lungs take over. The inward and outward movement of air brings the entire gesture to a perfectly choreographed conclusion.
The rolodex in my mind flutters like a cloud of bees escaping small puffs of smoke. I'm searching for yet another character. I feel the camera over my left shoulder. I put my left hand in a clutched position (I imagine the bee keepers smoke gun in my grip) and I move my hand towards the open packed of unmarked cigarettes.
For an instant I see my nail under a microscope. Tessellating plates of hard matter, interlocking lines, jagged like the peaks in a dried up muddy puddle. I slowly pull my hand back. I have managed to use only my middle finger and thumb to remove the cigarette. I have completely avoided using my index finger lending an air of exact complicity to the act. I want the lens to see the full cigarette, both colors, dirty speckled orange and off white. I drag it through the frame and over the mirror; its reflection is tantalizingly blurry. The bees have been chased away by the time I pick up the lighter.
It is all I can do to muster the energy that is needed to keep my concentration on the formless dimension I have created with the resulting smoke.
I let my mind become opaque with the imagined noxious world of gray fumes.
I haven't blinked throughout this thought.
Again I mentally prepare another fictitious mood. I know the camera has pulled back. R.W. can only think in specific compositions and he is looking for another one.
I quickly raise the cigarette to my mouth. I want the trees ruffled by the wind to frame this action. The trees will decorate the edges of my form and imply a stark contrast between the suicidal tendencies of a human being and the unrestrained shape of nature.
I raise the lighter bringing it to the cigarette. For a very short moment I reach back 6 seconds and grab the mechanized articulation I used on my neck pointing my attention to my hand. The lighter's hinge makes a sharp noise, the cigarette ignites and I inhale. It's disgusting and has a peculiar armor of wet logs sprinkled with cinnamon. The feeling of the smoke in my lungs completely envelop my body. I let a small cloud of smoke linger on my lips and I inhale.
My dead brother, my poor dead brother is alone.
This is not working so I concentrate on a workman I saw 13 years ago at 5.31am on a Tuesday morning when because of by ex-husbands bizarre habits I couldn't sleep.
I focus on the memory of the stranger's hands; wrinkles, dark yellow skin, veins, cracked fingernails. His fingertips are worn smooth by handling hundreds of cold glass objects.
I tap the ash. I pick up a small blush brush in the same mechanical gesture. Before I bring it to my face, I imagine the instant the man's little finger glanced the cold white object. The object splinters. I feel the glass separating the flesh from the food, magnifying the milk. I gently stroke my face drawing the brush slowly across my cheek.
My distraction is intentional. I hope the image of the man will complicate my action to create an atmosphere of childhood innocence, the child that Andrea is playing across the room.
The glass bottle in my daydream looses its comfortable form and becomes a single hook tearing at the man's hand, drawing a line from his thumb to his wrist. Blood slowly, neatly, cleanly flows.
I channel this image to refresh my body language.
I spin my head (again mechanically) to look at Andrea. I have not forgotten my eyes, heavily made up they flick into action highlighting my characters vanity. This introduces Andrea's character and the inhuman distance between my thought and actions and the very human love of a mother for a child. I know the shot has changed but I keep firm and Andrea raises her head, her blue eyes like the workman's meet my own.
Immediately yet slowly I swing my right leg onto the floor. The vibration of the impact echoes through my leg and I use it to shake off my melancholic persona of the last 76 seconds. This is a disciplined and well-practiced move, one I have been using in films with R.W. since The Bitter Tears.
I move casually across the carpet letting my whole body subtly curve and glide. I hold my cigarette up to echo the previous movement's frozen anxiety. Then I calmly raise it to my lips, my eyes at the same time focus on the orange dot placed by R.W. to create an exact diagonal between the, the center of my pupil and the frame of the camera. I imagine all the other orange dots strewn across the room designed to create an image the audience's eyes will follow and subconsciously interpret.
I raise my head slowly and while looking past the new Aalon 35mm gingerly clutched by Michael I utter the first work of the film,
'Schon.'
In this final collaborative A Moment of Eternal Noise Exquisite Corpse the project started with an image created by Alex Eagleton this was given to Ebe Oke who donated the song, this was sent to Richard Evans who wrote the text.
The text is a fictional internal monologue imagining what the actor Margit Carstensen could have been thinking before the first word uttered at 92 seconds into Rainer Werner Fassbinder's 1976 movie Chinese Roulette.
The title Coolsville was picked at random from all of Laurie Anderson's commercial recordings that use a place name as the title. The date is a randomly generated number from 0 to 2014.
Tags Alex Eagleton, Ausform, Chinese Roulette, Coolsville, Ebe Oke, Laurie Anderson, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Richard Evans
Categories Art, Avant-Garde Music, Contemporary Art, Film
Majoun, 1885
https://amomentofeternalnoise.files.wordpress.com/2012/06/allal.mp3
It was a temptation for me to get off the plane at Tangiers and join Robert Fraser who was to spend a weekend with a group that would include Mick Jagger. I thought at last an opportunity to photograph one of the most elusive people, whom I admire and am fascinated by, not determined whether he is beautiful or hideous.
But my exodus from the photographic excitements at home was dictated by my run-down state of health, so on I went to Marrakesh, where I knew nobody (except Ira Belline) and for four days was quite by myself. I overslept and became introspective, extremely displeased with myself and hating all that I saw of myself in the nude. On the Tuesday evening I came down to dinner very late, and to my surprise, sitting in the hall, discovered Mick Jagger and a sleepy-looking band of gypsies. "Where is my friend the art dealer?" I asked. Robert F., wearing a huge black felt hat and a bright emerald brocade coat, was coughing by the swimming pool. He had swallowed something the wrong way. He recovered and invited me to join the others for a drink and then, by degrees, for an evening out.
It was a strange group, three "Stones," Brian Jones and his girlfriend, beatnik-dressed Anita Pallenberg,' dirty white face, dirty blackened eyes, dirty canary-yellow wisps of hair, barbaric jewellery. The drummer, Keith of the Stones, an eighteenth-century suit, black long velvet coat and the tightest pants, and a group of hangers-on. chauffeurs, an American man with Renaissance-type hair a "Moroccan" expert (also American) from Tangiers etc. l was intent not to give the impression that I was only interested in Mick. but it happened that we sat next to one another. as he drank a Vodka Collins, and smoked with pointed fingers held high. His skin is chicken breast white, and of a fine quality. He has enormous inborn elegance. He talked of the native music, how the American had played him records of a Turk from near here, which music included the use of pipes that were the same as those that were heard in Hungary and were also the same that were used in Scotland. He liked Indian music. He would like to go to Kashmir, Afghanistan, would like to get away. England had become a police state, with police and journalists prying into your lives. Recently so policemen had invaded the house of the drummer in the country to search it for dope (no charges have been made). The papers had written completely false accounts. He was going to sue the News of the World. He'd done nothing to deprave the youth of the country. He liked to get away from the autograph hunters. Here people weren't curious or badly mannered. l noticed he used quite old words, he liked people who were permissive. By degrees the shy aloofness of the hopped-up gang broke down. We got into two cars (the Bentley I was in had driven from Brian Jones's house in Swiss Cottage to here, and the driver was a bit tired and soon got very drunk. The car was filled with Pop Art cushions. scarlet fur rugs. sex magazines).
Immediately the most tremendous volume of pop music was relayed at the back of my neck. Mick and Brian responded rhythmically. and the girlfriend screamed in whispers that she had just played a murderess in a film that was to be shown at the Cannes Festival.
We went to a Moroccan restaurant, tiles, glasses, banquettes, women dancers. Mick preferred to be away from the other tourists. He is very gentle, with perfect manners. He commented the usual style of decoration give little opportunity for understanding to the artist. He indicated that I should follow his example and eat the chicken in my fingers. It was so tender and good. He has much appreciation and his small albino-fringed eyes notice everything. "How different and more real this place is to Tangiers, the women more rustic, heavy, lumpy, but their music very Spanish and their dancing too." He has an analytical slant and compares what he is now seeing with earlier impressions and with other countries.
We talked of mutual acquaintances. David Bailey had been too busy being married to take any good photographs during the past year. His film was not erotic. he wished it had been, it was merely black and while, and obviously avant-garde. He liked the new ballet, Paradise Lost. but [was] bored by Stravinsky's Les Noces. (Tchaikovsky he called the composer. but he showed he hates US chorales as much as I do, and is limited in his field of music to that which he had studied since he was 11 years old, and which he is never tired of absorbing.)
"What marvellous authority she has," listening to a coloured singer. "She follows through." He sent his arms flying about him. I was fascinated with the thin concave lines of his body, legs, arms. Mouth almost too large, but he is beautiful and ugly, feminine and masculine, a "sport," a rare phenomenon. I was not disappointed. and as the evening wore on, found him easier to talk with. He was sorry he'd not been able to converse when we met at that fancy dress party (Christie's). How could he remember? He asked. 'Have you ever taken LSD?" – "Oh, I should." lt would mean so much to me. I'd never forget the colours. For a painter it was a great experience. Instead of one's brain working on four cylinders. it would be 4,000. You saw everything glow. The colours of his red velvet trousers, the black shiny satin, the maroon scarf. You saw yourself beautiful and ugly, and saw other people as if for the first time. "Oh. you should take it in the country, surrounded by all the green, all those flowers. You'd have no bad effects. It's only people who hate themselves who suffer."
He had great assurance about himself, and I have too. 'No, believe me if you enjoyed the bhang in India, this is a thousand times better, so much stronger." He'd let me have a pill: 'Oh, good stuff. Oh no, they can't stamp it out. It's like the atom bomb. Once it's been discovered. it can never be forgotten, and it's too easy to make LSD.'
He didn't take it often, but when he was in a congenial setting, and with people he liked. Otherwise it didn't work so pleasantly. Maybe he took it about once a month. We walked through the decorated midnight souks. He admired the Giacometti-like drawings, loved the old town, was sad at the sleeping bundles of humanity. Brian Jones said he had not seen such poverty since Singapore. Mick was full of appreciation for the good things we saw, the archways. the mysterious alleyways.
THE SKY SPANGLED WITH STARS
Again we bundled in the cars. Again the gramophone records, turned on at volume. By now the Moroccan chauffeur in front was quite drunk and driving on the wrong side of the road. When we shouted in warning. Brian said, "There's no traffic!" I was quite alarmed as to whether we would get home safely. We all trooped up to our bedrooms on this floor. Gramophone records turned on, but by now it was 3 o'clock and my bedtime. They seem to have no magnetic call from their beds. They are happy to hang about. "Where do we go now? To a nightclub?"-"lt's closed"-"Well, let's go somewhere and have a drink." Never a yawn and the group had been up since five o'clock this morning, for they motored throughout the day through the desert from Tangiers with the record players blaring, It is a very different way of living front mine. particularly from that of the last four days. It did me good to be jerked out of myself. Mick listened to pop records for a couple of hours and was then so tired that he went to sleep without taking off his clothes. Only at 8, when he woke, did he undress and get into bed and sleep for another couple of hours.
At 11 o'clock he appeared at the swimming pool, I could not believe this was the same person walking towards us, and yet I knew it was an aspect of him. The sun, very strong, was reflected from the white ground and made his face a white, podgy, shapeless mess, eyes very small, nose very pink and spreading, hair sandy dark. He wore Chanel Bois de Rose. His figure. his hands and arms were incredibly feminine. He looked like a self-conscious suburban young lady.
All morning he looked awful. The reflected light is very bad for him and he isn't good at the beginning of a day. The others were willing only to talk in spasms. No one could make up their minds what to do or when.
A lot of good humour. I took Mick through the trees to an open space to photograph him in the midday sun, thus giving his face the shadows it needs. He was a Tarzan of Piero di Cosimo. Lips of a fantastic roundness. body white and almost hairless. He is sexy, yet completely sexless. He could nearly be a eunuch. As a model he is a natural.
Ira Belline came to lunch. Mick left the others to join us. In a sweet, natural, subtle way, he showed we were friends. Ira was charmed. gave him compliments. said how imaginatively he and his friends were dressed. He reminded her of Nijinsky upon whose lap she sat as a child. Mick talked of the struggles to success. It had seemed slow, those four years, and now it had come, he didn't want anything more than a good car. He didn't want possessions. He would like a house somewhere with 30 acres. He wanted to work less. They'd worked so hard. He'd arranged for his money to be paid over the next 30 years. He didn't want vast sums. but he had recently had fantastic offers to make films. One was intriguing. He'd be a Mexican with dark skin and curly hair, but he wouldn't appear as a pop singer.
The group lying around the swimming pool, eating a lot. Then we went sightseeing in the town, to the market square, and the souks. and to see the new young Getty' house (very sensible beautiful 1830 Moroccan house with just the right garden). While watching the native dancers, Mick was convulsed by the rhythm. every fibre of his body responding to the intricacies. Likewise Brian who, with microphone, was recording the music. Then in a quiet moment he blared it forth. Each of these "Stones" is utterly dedicated to the music they love; they are never tired of learning, of listening. of enjoying (they are furious at the phrase "background music").
Unfortunately they seemed to have got into bad hash habits. Brian, at one point. dozed off. "Are you asleep?" -"l just tripped off." Before dinner, a long spell in Robert Fraser's room when cookies were eaten and pipes were smoked. This meant that they did not arrive in the restaurant by 10 o'clock. The chef had left. Awful row. Embarrassing scenes. Mick came down at 10:15 p.m., to be told there was nothing but cold food. (The sideboard looked very appetising to me.) Oh, he was furious. He couldn't stomach that stuff. It turned him off. He told the maitre d'hotel he was "very silly"! He was quite angry, and chef d'hotel too. I must say a scruffier-looking gang could never be imagined. The photographer, Michael Cooper,' Keith, with green velvet blouse open to his navel. in a red coat with tarnished silver fringes round the sleeve, absolutely gone. Robert, wild and unshaven. I tried to calm the scene. Mick told of an occasion when they had such a row that the food was thrown about, and of course it got into the papers.
I was determined, having waited so long, to eat my dinner. I chewed my way through rouget, and cold turkey. The others, meanwhile, having found a sort of restaurant that would be open until 2 o'clock, were content to sit without any idea of hunger or impatience. Brian went into a drugged sleep.
Mick intended to leave alone tomorrow (he finds travelling unpleasant, fills up on pills and becomes incredibly offhand). He said he'd like to see me in London and was pleased we'd been able to meet each other here.
There are moments when little is said but a few grunts. tough banalities, but much is sensed. I feel he is his real self. I watched him walk through the series of glass front doors of the hotel and look back for the driver, his hand on one side, the picture of grace, and something very touching, tender and appealing about him.
I wonder what the future can bring to someone so incredibly successful at such an early stage? Will the hash wreck his life, or will it go up in the smoke of the atom bomb with all the rest of us?
PS They never seem important, never in a hurry. Their beds can wait. their meals too. They do not mind if the drink ordered arrives or not. The hash settles everything. Their wardrobe is extensive. Mick showed me the rows of brightly shining brocade coats. Everything is shoddy, poorly made. The seams burst. Keith himself had sewn his trousers, lavender, dull rose with a band of badly stitched leather dividing the two colours. Brian at the pool appears in white pants with a huge black square applied on to the back. It is very smart in spite of the fact that the seams are giving way, but with such marvellously flat, tight. compact figures as they have, with no buttocks or stomach, almost everything looks well with them.
Not one book in their rooms. A lot of crumbs from the hash cookies or the kif pipes. The most obvious defect of drug taking is to make the addict oblivious to the diet and general slothfulness that he conveys. The photographer. Michael Cooper, is really dirty, with his shirt open and trousers to below the navel. Unshaven, he spends a lot of time scratching his long hair. No group make more of a mess at the table. The aftermath of their breakfast with eggs, jam, honey everywhere, is quite exceptional. They give a new meaning to the word untidiness.
We must reconsider our ideas on drugs. It seems these boys live off them, yet they seem extremely healthy and strong. We will see.
The party, minus Mick, loses all its glamour. Brian Jones seemed in a more communicative condition and smiled a lot. His voice is quite affected, unlike the rawness of the others, and he makes attempts at politeness. He even apologised for falling asleep at table last night, "It was very bad-mannered," he drawled with a bit of a lisp. I asked him about their work. They'd started off playing blues, by degrees developed their present style. altering their instruments, and now they spend much more time than before experimenting, playing back tapes, and now, for example, the sitar holds a more prominent role. They continue the tapes, more alterations, play back another tape. Elvis Presley, now a back liner, was very important in the history of modern music, and Ray Charles. Ray, who still went on doing what he believed in and it was good, unlike the tuxedo Las Vegas gang, in their tweeds (Sinatra and Crosby). Keith and Mick generally write their own words and music. They thought the best of "pop" came from the US.
At about 3 o'clock they were joined by the others, who had been house hunting. "I'd like to buy a house" – "l'd like to have a good car" – "Put a call through to London, will you?" and again there was another row with the waiters. The chauffeur, Tom, returned from Casablanca and was furious to be told there was no more hot food. The kitchen empty. Likewise the photographer-where had he been to be so late? Just waiting. He of all people to complain. Little wonder that the elderly waiter became furious. "You're a lot of pigs. You should go to the market square, the Medina, and eat your food there. That's where you belong! I am not going to serve any of you again."
Robert F. rushed out to complain to the manager. Gosh, they are a messy group. No good getting annoyed. One can only wonder as to their future. If their talent isn't undermined by drugs etc. They are successful rebels, all power, but no sympathy and none asked.
The sound element uses the short story Allal by Paul Bowles, read by Paul Bowles. The image is from the image archive of Marco Grassi, painting restorer. All other parts were created from samples made for the post by the Frank Minoprio project Green Relm, edited and produced with field recordings by A Moment of Eternal Noise. The text is from Beaton In The Sixties, The Cecil Beaton Diaries as he wrote them, 1965-1969.
Tags Brian Jones, Frank Minoprio, Green Relm, Majoun, Marco Grassi, Mick Jagger, Morocco, Paul Bowles, Richard Evans
Categories Art, Avant-Garde Music, Books, Contemporary Art, Drone, Experimental Music, Psychadelic, Spoken Word
L.A. 1985
https://amomentofeternalnoise.files.wordpress.com/2014/01/julie-full2-final.mp3
The parties in the Pines were amazing affairs complete with fanciful themes, Hollywood-like sets, giant sound systems, DJs, booze, and drugs. And in the summer of '65, a couple of older queens named Sam Hadad and Royal Marks decided they would throw the most elaborate and decadent party of the season, calling it "The Bacchanal." I was staying at a rented house with my friends Dick Villany, a decorator in the David Barrett mode, but with a less affluent clientele; Franklyn Welsh, the best, though as-yet-undiscovered, makeup artist and hair stylist in the world; Barry de Prendergast, a wily wheeler-dealer and model from Ireland; and Loy Mazor, a notorious speed freak. Loy mainlined methedrine to the point where his skin had taken on a pallor that was decidedly gray,
Franklyn made the most divine toga from one of the lightweight linen bedspreads and did my hair in a curly Grecian updo adorned with baby's breath from Dickie Decorator's living room flower arrangement. We were just about ready to leave for the party and already tanked up on pot and God knows what, when Loy asked if I`d like to try some speed. Never having shot it, l was, of course, up for the adventure. Franklyn held the belt tightly around my arm while Loy stuck the needle in my vein. The rush was immediate. I slumped to the floor in a moment of orgasmic ecstasy, pulled Franklyn, a rather shy homosexual to me and French kissed him so deeply he was in complete shock, "That good, huh?" he marveled, realizing how high I must have been. Everyone else was yelling that we should hurry up lest we miss the party. But I was so on fire with sexual desire. I just wanted to fuck somebody, anybody, right then and there before leaving the house. Alas though, it was a house full of homos and none of them were into girls. So I pulled myself together, hit the boards with them, and headed for The Bacchanal.
It was a daytime party, and as we neared the house, we saw legions of scantily costumed boys on the various boardwalks leading to it, their muscular sun-kissed bodies as tempting as Greek gods' in the afternoon light. I was rushing and so incredibly horny; I just had to find a straight or bi one to fuck me. We were greeted with some magic punch at the door of the party- just what I needed to top up the speed!
Upstairs in the main room there was a huge table, the centerpiece of which was a stunningly beautiful boy, reclining nude except for a laurel wreath in his hair and some grapes covering the lower part of his torso. He poured wine for the guests from an ancient-style urn, and as I offered my glass to be filled, I looked into his eyes and caught the hetro vibe. "Ah, a real woman," he cooed. And that was it. Within second, his fruit and my toga pushed aside, I was up on the table having sex with him. Suddenly, as if through a fish-eye lens, there were hordes of sex hungry faces looking down at us, their hands all over his ass as he was thrusting his cock into me. I found it all so excitingly surreal, so Fellini-esque and so fitting with the theme of the party. I felt no shame or contrition at all.
But Sam and Royal were outraged and decided I had ruined their party. They intervened before either of us got to come, and they took the boy away before I even got to know his name. He was ordered to stay in a downstairs bedroom until they sent him back to the mainland on the next boat, and I was ordered to leave the party, never to see my sweet momentary Adonis again. The next day I was the talk of the island, and everyone was divided into two camps: those who congratulated and high fived me, and those who scolded and scorned me. But I felt I had taught them all a lesson. You throw a bacchanal, you put a naked boy on the table, and you give out magic punch-what do you expect?
I think the only problem anyone there really had with it is that I was a woman. Had it been two boys going at it, it might have been OK. But apparently, they had hired the boy through an ad in the Village Voice and had no idea that he was straight. Anyway, Sam and Royal should have been eternally grateful to me for my performance and to Loy for supplying the speed. Their party became the stuff of Fire Island legend, not only for that summer, but for many summers that followed.
This post was a collaboration with artist Julie Verhoeven who donated the image Suck & See. A Moment of Eternal Noise selected the music and the text from Lick Me, How I Became Cherry Vanilla by Cherry Vanilla based on the image.
Excerpt from The Telephone Book : Pentatonia – Paris Smith : How to die with style – Quentin Crisp : Coke, Suede and Waterbeds – Sopwith Camel : Goodbye Emmanuelle – Serge Gainsbourg & Jane Birkin : Afrian Reggae – Nina Hagen : My name is trouble – Keren Ann : James and the Cold Gun – Kate Bush : Liquid Gang – Marc Bolan & T Rex : Ladytron – Roxy Music : Art-I-Ficial – X-Ray Spex : Bored – Destroy all Monsters : The Mating Game – The Monochrome Set : D'Ya Think I'm Sexy – Hybrid Kids : The Model – Big Black : Sex unter Wasser – D.A.F. : Strawberry Fields – The Runaways : Unemployability – Quentin Crisp : 52 Mins
Tags A Moment of Eternal Noise, Julie Verhoeven, Richard Evans
Categories Art, Contemporary Art, Pop, Rock, Soundtracks
Zoloflot, 1982
https://amomentofeternalnoise.files.wordpress.com/2014/01/white-noise-zoloflot.mp3
"I sense a confusion of means. Not that I'm criticizing. It was a daring thing you did, a daring thrust. To use him. I can admire the attempt even as I see how totally dumb it was, although no dumber than wearing a charm or knocking wood. Six hundred million Hindus stay home from work if the signs are not favorable that morning. So I'm not singling you out."
"The vast and terrible depth."
"Of course," he said.
"The inexhaustibility."
"The whole huge nameless thing."
"Yes, absolutely. "
"The massive darkness."
"Certainly, certainly."
"The whole terrible endless hugeness."
He tapped the fender of a diagonally parked car, half smiling.
"Why have you failed, Jack?"
"A confusion of means."
"Correct. There are numerous ways to get around death. You tried to employ two of them at once. You stood out on the one hand and tried to hide on the other. What is the name we give to this attempt?"
I followed him into the supermarket. Blasts of color, layers of oceanic sound. We walked under a bright banner announcing a raffle to raise money for some incurable disease. The wording seemed to indicate that the winner would get the disease. Murray likened the banner to a Tibetan prayer flag.
"Why have I had this fear so long, so consistently?"
"It's obvious. You don't know how to repress. We're all aware there's no escape from death. How do we deal with this crushing knowledge? We repress, we disguise, we bury, we exclude. Some people do it better than others, that's all."
"How can I improve?"
"You can't. Some people just don't have the unconscious tools to perform the necessary disguising operations."
"How do we know repression exists if the tools are unconscious and the thing we're repressing is so cleverly disguised?"
"Freud said so. Speaking of looming figures."
He picked up a box of Handi-Wrap II, reading the display type, studying the colors. He smelled a packet of dehydrated soup. The data was strong today.
"Do you think I'm some how healthier because I don't know how to repress? Is it possible that constant fear is the natural state of man and that by living close to my fear I am actually doing something heroic, Murray?"
"Do you feel heroic?"
"Then you probably aren't."
"But isn't repression unnatural?"
"Fear is unnatural. Lightning and thunder are unnatural. Pain, death, reality, these are all unatural We can't bear these things as they are. We know too much. So we resort to repression, compromise and disguise. This is how we survive in the universe. This is the natural language of the species."
I looked at him carefully.
"I exercise. I take care of my body."
"No, you don't," he said.
He helped an old man read the date on a loaf of raisin bread. Children sailed by in silver carts.
"Tegrin, Denorex, Selsun Blue."
Murray wrote something in his little book. I watched him step deftly around a dozen fallen eggs oozing yolky matter from a busted carton.
"Why do I feel so good when I'm with Wilder? It's not like being with the other kids," I said.
"You sense his total ego, his freedom from limits."
"In what way is he free from limits?"
"He doesn't know he's going to die. He doesn't know death at all. You cherish this simpleton blessing of his, this exemption from harm. You want to get close to him, touch him, look at him, breathe him in. How lucky he is. A cloud of unknowing, an omnipotent little person. The child is everything, the adult nothing. Think about it. A person's entire life is the unraveling of this conflict. No wonder we're bewildered, staggered, shattered."
"Aren't you going too far?"
"I'm from New York."
"We create beautiful and lasting things, build vast civilizations."
"Gorgeous evasions," he said. "Great escapes."
The doors parted photoelectronically. We went outside, walking past the dry cleaner, the hair stylist, the optician. Murray relighted his pipe, sucking impressively at the mouthpiece.
"We have talked about ways to get around death." he said. "We have discussed how you've already tried two such ways, each cancelling the other. We have mentioned technology, train wrecks, belief in an afterlife. There are other methods as well and I would like to talk about one such approach."
We crossed the street.
"I believe, Jack, there are two kinds of people in the world. Killers and diers. Most of us are diers. We don't have the disposition, the rage or whatever it takes to be a killer. We let death happen. We lie down and die. But think what it's like to be a killer. Think how exciting it is, in theory, to kill a person in direct confrontation. If he dies, you cannot. To kill him is to gain life-credit. The more people you kill, the more credit you store up. It explains any number of massacres, wars, executions."
"Are you saying that men have tried throughout history to cure themselves of death by killing others?"
"It's obvious."
"And you call this exciting?"
"I'm talking theory. In theory, violence is a form of rebirth. The dier passively succumbs. The killer lives on. What a marvelous equation. As a marauding band amasses dead bodies, it gathers strength. Strength accumulates like a favor from the gods."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"This is theory. We're a couple of academics taking a walk. But imagine the visceral jolt, seeing your opponent bleeding in the dust."
"You think it adds to a person's store of credit, like a bank transaction."
"Nothingness is staring you in the face. Utter and permanent oblivion. You will cease to be. To be, Jack. The dier accepts this and dies. The killer, in theory, attempts to defeat his own death by killing others. He buys time, he buys life. Watch others squirm. See the blood trickle in the dust."
I looked at him, amazed. He drew contentedly on his pipe, making hollow sounds.
"It's a way of controlling death. A way of gaining the ultimate upper hand. Be the killer for a change. Let someone else be the dier. Let him replace you, theoretically, in that role. You can't die if he does. He dies, you live. See how marvelously simple."
"You say this is what people have been doing for centuries."
"They're still doing it. They do it on a small intimate scale, they do it-in groups and crowds and masses. Kill to live."
"Sounds pretty awful."
He seemed to shrug. "Slaughter is never random. The more people you kill, the more power you gain over your own death. There is a secret precision at work in the most savage and indiscriminate killings. To speak about this is not to do public relations for murder. We're two academics in an intellectual environment. It's our duty to examine currents of thought, investigate the meaning of human behavior. But think how exciting, to come out a winner in a deathly struggle, to watch the bastard bleed."
"Plot a murder, you're saying. But every plot is a murder in effect. To plot is to die, whether we know it or not."
"To plot is to live," he said.
I looked at him. I studied his face, his hands.
"We start our lives in chaos, in babble. As we surge up into the world, we try to devise a shape, a plan. There is dignity in this. Your whole life is a plot, a scheme, a diagram. It is a failed scheme but that's not the point. To plot is to affirm life, to shape and control. Even after death, most particularly after death, the search continues. Burial rites are an attempt to complete the scheme, in ritual. Picture a state funeral, Jack. It is all precision, detail, order, design. The nation holds its breath. The efforts a huge and powerful government are brought to bear on a ceremony that will shed the last trace of chaos. If all goes well, if they bring it off, some natural law of perfection is obeyed. The nation itself is delivered from anxiety, the deceased's life is redeemed, itself is strengthened, reaffirmed."
"Are you sure?" I said.
"To plot, to take aim at something, to shape time and space. This is how we advance the art of human consciousness."
We moved in a wide circle back toward campus. Streets in deep and soundless shade, garbage bags set out for collection. crossed the sunset overpass, pausing briefly to watch the cars shoot by. Sunlight bouncing off the glass and chrome.
"Are you a killer or a dier Jack?"
"You know the answer to that. I've been a dier all my life."
"What can any dier do? Isn't it implicit in his makeup that he can't cross over?"
"Let's think about that. Let's examine the nature of the beast, so to speak. The male animal. Isn't there a fund, a pool, a reservoir of potential violence in the male psyche?"
"In theory I suppose there is."
"We're talking theory. That's exactly what we're talking. Two friends on a tree-shaded street. What else but theory? Isn't there a deep field, a sort of crude oil deposit that one might tap if and when the occasion warrants? A great dark lake of male rage."
"That's what Babette says. Homicidal rage. You sound like her."
"Amazing lady. Is she right or wrong?"
"In theory? She's probably right."
"Isn't there a sludgy region you'd rather not know about? A remnant of some prehistoric period when dinosaurs roamed the earth and men fought with flint tools? When to kill was to live?"
"Babette talks about male biology. Is it biology or geology?"
"Does it matter, Jack? We only want to know whether it is there, buried in the most prudent and unassuming soul."
"I suppose so. It can be. It depends."
"Is it or isn't it there?"
"It's there, Murray. So what?"
"I only want to hear you say it. That's all. I only want to elicit truths you already possess, truths you've always known at some basic level."
"Are you saying a dier can become a killer?"
"I'm only a visiting lecturer. I theorize, I take walks, I admire the trees and houses. I have my students, my rented room, my TV set. I pick out a word here, an image there. I admire the lawns, the porches. What a wonderful thing a porch is. How did I live a life without a porch to sit on, up till now? I speculate, I reflect, I take constant notes. I am here to think, to see. Let me warn you, Jack. I won't let up."
We passed my street and walked up the hill to the campus.
"Who's your doctor?"
"Chakravarty," I said.
"Is he good?"
"How would I know?"
"My shoulder separates. An old sexual injury."
"I'm afraid to see him. I put the printout of my death in the bottom drawer of a dresser."
"I know how you feel. But the tough part is yet to come. You've said good-bye to everyone but yourself. How does a person say good-bye to himself? It's a juicy existential dilemma."
We walked past the administration building.
"I hate to be the one who says it, Jack, but there's something that has to be said."
"Better you than me."
I nodded gravely. "Why does this have to be said?"
"Because friends have to be brutally honest with each other. I'd feel terrible if I didn't tell you what I was thinking, especially at a time like this."
"I appreciate it, Murray. I really do."
Don DeLillo, "White Noise," 1985
Image – 'Yuri Pavlovick Gidzenko,' Test Cosmonaut of the Yuri Gagarin Cosmonaut Training Center, Russian Federal Space Agency
Kaivue – Vladislav Delay : The Decline of Western Civilisation – Tru West : I0 – Klangwart : Twasidich Wurde – Kleefstra/Pruiksma/Kleefstra : King of Clubs – Apparet : Dream II – Leafcutter John : Adikia – Ekkehard – Ehlers : Visible Breath – Eyvind kang : Stadich Lit Ik Dy Kalder Wurde – Kleefstra/Pruiksma/Kleefstra : Stilleben 187-88 – Kaija Saariaho : Henki – Vladislav Delay : Farnsworth House – Efdemin : Sixteenth – Autistici : 91 Mins
Tags Don DeLillo, Green Relm, NASA, Paul Bowles, Richard Evans, White Noise, Yuri Pavlovick Gidzenko, Zoloft
Categories Ambient Music, Art, Avant-Garde Music, Contemporary Classical, Electronic, Experimental Music, Radiophonic
Tanztheater Lepidoptera, 1710
https://amomentofeternalnoise.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/05-dont-pet-the-slugs.mp3
I must have been eight when, in a storeroom of our country house, among all kinds of dusty objects, I discovered some wonderful books acquired in the days when my mother's mother had been interested in natural science and had had a famous university professor of Zoology (Shimkevich) give private lessons to her daughter. Some of these books were mere curios, such as the four huge brown folios of Albertus Seba's work (Locupletissimi Rerum Naturalium Thesauri Accurata Descrqnio…), printed in Amsterdam around 1750. On their coarse-grained pages I found woodcuts of serpents and butterflies and embryos. The fetus of an Ethiopian female child hanging by the neck in a glass jar used to give me a nasty shock every time I came across it; nor did I much care for the stuffed hydra on plate CII, with its seven lion-toothed turtleheads on seven serpentine necks and its strange, bloated body which bore buttonlike tubercules along the sides and ended in a knotted tail.
Other books I found in that attic, among herbariums full of alpine columbines, and blue palemoniums, and Jove's campions, and orange-red lilies, and other Davos flowers, came closer to my subject. I took in my arms and carried downstairs glorious loads of fantastically attractive volumes: Maria Sibylla Merian's (1647-1717) lovely plates of Surinam insects, and Esper's noble Die Sehmetterlinge (Erlangen, 1777), and Boisduval's Ieones Historiques de Lépidoptéres Nou-veaux ou Peu Connus (Paris, begun in 1832). Still more exciting were the products of the latter half of the century – Newman's Natural History of British Buttefflies and Moths, Hofmann's Die Gross Sehmezterlinge Europas, the Grand Duke Nikolay Mihailovich's Mémoires on Asiatic lepidoptera (with incomparably beautiful figures painted by Kavrigin, Rybakov, Lang), Scudder's stupendous work on the Butterflies of New England.
Retrospectively, the summer of 1905, though quite vivid in many ways, is not animated yet by a single bit of quick flutter or colored fluff around or across the walks with the village schoolmaster: the Swallowtail of June 1906 was still in the larval stage on a roadside umbellifer; but in the course of that month I became acquainted with a score or so of common things, and Mademoiselle was already referring to a certain forest road that culminated in a marshy meadow full of Small Pearl-bordered Fritillaries (thus called in my first unforgettable and unfadingly magical little manual, Richard South's The Butterflies of the British Isles, which had just come out at thattime) as le chemin des papillons bruns. The following year Ibecame aware that many of our butterflies and moths did notoccur in England or Central Europe, and more complete atlaseshelped me to determine them. A severe illness (pneumonia,with fever up to 41° centigrade), in the beginning of 1907,mysteriously abolished the rather monstrous gift of numbersthat had made of me a child prodigy during a few months(today I cannot multiply 13 by 17 without pencil and paper; Ican add them up, though, in a trice, the teeth of the three fitting in neatly); but the butterflies survived. My mother accumulated a library and a museum around my bed, and the longing to describe a new species completely replaced that of discovering a new prime number. A trip to Biarritz, in August 1907, added new wonders (though not as lucid and numerous as they were to be in 1909). By 1908, I had gained absolute control over the European lepidoptera as known to Hofmann. By 1910, I had dreamed my way through the first volumes of Seitz's prodigious picture book Die Gross-Sehmetterlinge der Erde, had purchased a number of rarities recently described,and was voraciously reading entomological periodicals, especially English and Russian ones. Great upheavals were takingplace in the development of systematics. Since the middle of thecentury, Continental lepidopterology had been, on the whole, asimple and stable affair, smoothly run by the Germans. Its highpriest, Dr Staudinger, was also the head of the largest firm ofinsect dealers. Even now, half a century after his death, Germanlepidopterists have not quite managed to shake off the hypnoticspell occasioned by his authority. He was still alive when hisschool began to lose ground as a scientific force in the world.While he and his followers stuck to specific and generic namessanctioned by long usage and were content to classify butterfliesby characters visible to the naked eye, English-speaking authorswere introducing nomenclatorial changes as a result of a strictapplication of the law of priority and taxonomic changes basedon the microscopic study of organs. The Germans did theirbest to ignore the new trends and continued to cherish thephilately-like side of entomology. Their solicitude for the 'average collector who should not be made to dissect' is comparableto the way nervous publishers of popular novels pamper the'average reader' – who should not be made to think.
There was another more general change, which coincidedwith my ardent adolescent interest in butterflies and moths.The Victorian and Staudingerian kind of species, hermeticand homogeneous, with sundry (alpine, polar, insular, etc.)'varieties' affixed to it from the outside, as it were, like incidental appendages, was replaced by a new, multiform and fluidkind of species, organically consisting of geographical races orsubspecies. The evolutional aspects of the case were thusbrought out more clearly, by means of more flexible methodsof classification, and further links between butterflies and thecentral problems of nature were provided by biological investigations.The mysteries of mimicry had a special attraction for me.Its phenomena showed an artistic perfection usually 'associatedwith man-wrought things. Consider the imitation of oozingpoison by bubblelike macules on a wing (complete with pseudorefraction) or by glossy yellow knobs on a chrysalis ('Don't eatme – I have already been squashed, sampled and rejected').Consider the tricks of an acrobatic caterpillar (of the LobsterMoth) which in infancy looks like bird's dung, but after moltingdevelops scrabbly hymenopteroid appendages and baroquecharacteristics, allowing the extraordinary fellow to play twoparts at once (like the actor in Oriental shows who becomes apair of intertwisted wrestlers): that of a writhing larva and thatof a big ant seemingly harrowing it. When a certain mothresembles a certain wasp in shape and color, it also walks andmoves its antennae in a waspish, unmothlike manner. When abutterfly has to look like a leaf not only are all the details of aleaf beautifully rendered but markings mimicking grub-boredholes are generously thrown in. 'Natural selection,' in the Darwinian sense, could not explain the miraculous coincidence ofimitative aspect and imitative behavior, nor could one appealto the theory of 'the struggle for life' when a protective devicewas carried to a point of mimetic subtlety, exuberance, andluxury far in excess of a predator's power of appreciation. Idiscovered in nature the nonutilitarian delights that I soughtin art. Both were a form of magic, both were a game of intricateenchantment and deception.
This Exquisite Corspe started with the original piece of music 'Don't Pet the Slugs' by Steven Mykietyn, Zuriel Waters and Takafumi Kosaka, Gabriel Hartley then made the painting 'Slugs' after hearing a section of it. A Moment of Eternal Noise picked the text by Vladimir Nabokov from the book 'Speak Memory' given to us by Benjy Keating from Palimstry.
Tags Gabriel Hartley, Lepidoptera, Lobster Moth, Palmistry, Richard Evans, Slugs, Steven Mykietyen, Tanztheater Lepidoptera, Zoology
Categories Art, Avant-Garde Music, Books, Free Jazz


Department of Anthropology, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC V6T 1Z4, CANADA.
The D'Arcy Island leprosarium, located in Haro Strait off the east coast of southern Vancouver Island, B.C., was first established in 1891. During its thirty-four years of operation it was administered by three governments: the Victoria municipal government from 1891 to 1904, the B.C. provincial government during the year 1905, while the federal government was in charge until closure of the institution in 1924. The colony now comprises three archaeological sites, the earliest phase DdRt 29 on Little D'Arcy Island, where predominantly Chinese males were incarcerated, DdRt 28 the remains of the caretakers' facilities built in 1907 on D'Arcy Island, and the latest phase of the colony DdRt 31, located to the south of the caretakers.
The purpose of this research is to examine why and how social inequality is created and how it is maintained. Specifically, it will evaluate the historical sociopolitical circumstances surrounding the establishment of the colony, explain why it was created, and why and how the form of the institution changed over its thirty-four years of existence.
Archaeological investigations are employed to illuminate the ongoing material and social conditions of the unfortunate lepers, in contrast to those of the colony caretakers. Historical research is used to provide a meaningful context to understand colony developments. Historical data are also used to complement the gaps in the archaeological record.
In my research, I combine aspects of two theoretical approaches employed in contemporary archaeological theory. Processual archaeology is used to provide a framework for evaluating the relationship between racist ideology and the material manifestations of the D'Arcy Island leper colony. Changes in both the location and the architectural form and function are linked to changes in government policy and legislation to exclude Chinese immigrants. Apparently deliberate actions of the medical community to ignore available knowledge about leprosy are also associated with changes in the colony.
Symbolic archaeology is employed to illustrate how portable material culture, cultural landscape and architectural form are utilized to symbolically reinforce the ideology of White dominant society. Inferior status based on perceived racial and social difference are reinforced by the cultural manifestations of the facilities.
It is my contention that racist ideology is the prime mover in the creation and evolution of the D'Arcy Island leprosarium. It was fueled by stereotypical views of the Chinese immigrants held by White dominant society of the late 19th and early 20th century. The unwarranted fear of leprosy was seized upon by those in power to further incite racism in the general public. It was also used to support the belief that Chinese should further be excluded from mainstream Canadian society.
The timing of the establishment of the colony followed a decade of strong anti-Oriental agitation. Other developments in the colony may be directly linked to federal and provincial actions or changes in immigration legislation. Further proof that racism was involved is that there were alternate means available to deal with the issue of the Chinese lepers: care in the Victoria Chinese Hospital, deportation, or transfer to the leprosarium at Tracadie, New Brunswick. Differential care of non-Chinese lepers also indicates that the provision of appropriate medical care was not a consideration in the maintenance of the colony.
The D'Arcy Island leper colony was part of an historic process which contributed to racist ideology. The location, landscape, and architectural design all reflected the perceived inferior and outcast status of the Chinese lepers. They also reinforced the power and dominance of Euro-Canadians, maintaining social distance and creating social inequality.


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Julie Lansom
You may have noticed that Julie Lansom's beautiful lamps are more and
more present in our boutiques. At this occasion, we asked her to answer a
few questions and tell us more about herself and her link with Sessùn.
My name is Julie Lansom, I'm a designer and photographer. I have my own range of lighting designs as well as a swimwear brand which I launched last year (Épi Swim).
Tell us about how you got to where you are now ?
I was born and raised in the South of France. I stayed there until I finished my degree, then moved to London for 2 years before returning to France, to Paris this time, to finish my training. I have a degree in Media and International Relations. I worked as a freelancer and a photographer for two years until fate decided otherwise! One day, I needed a new lamp for my flat so I decided to make one. I took inspiration from an old 1970's lamp I already had, but adapted the shape, the fabric, and the weave. And so, the first Sputnik lamp was born. Then my friends wanted them for their homes, then friends of friends. Demands for my lamps grew and grew and 6 months down the line that was all I was doing. That was four years ago. Since then, I have expanded my range of lamp designs and it's now how I earn my living, which I'm really happy about.
Tell us about your work.
I have never studied neither design nor art. But I've always painted, played about, made things, and taken photographs in a very intuitive way and this is still the case today. I don't like to think too hard about my creations, I just do what I do and hope that I come up with something new when an idea comes to me. I try not to plan anything in too much detail. I'm determined to keep hold of the spontaneous and idiosyncratic character of my work.
What is your ritual when you work ?
I listen to a lot of music when I work. It doesn't matter whether I'm weaving, combing, gluing or retouching photos, that's how I focus. And it has become a real need. But sometimes I do need complete silence, and sometimes I need to stop and think. I also listen to podcasts to clear my mind.
Where do you get your artistic inspiration ?
Absolutely everywhere. I don't come from or belong to the world of pure, hard design. I believe that inspiration can be found in anything and everything. A silhouette, a painting, a film, an object, even a manhole cover on the street. Sometimes I see something whose inspiration is instant and very conscious whereas at other times things need to be digested by the subconscious mind to then resurface in a new piece of work.
The clothes that suit you best ?
When it comes to clothes, I'm a bit schizophrenic. I feel as much myself in a very feminine dress and heels as in a pair of wide trousers and a man's shirt. The only rule I have is that I wear almost all of my clothes a couple of sizes too big so that I can create voluminous shapes, and pull them in by using a belt or by knotting them.
The taste or smell that brings back memories ?
The smell of thyme, lavender, tree sap and pine nuts. The smells of nature in the region I grew up in and spent my childhood in the south of France.
Three things you always carry in your bag ?
My wallet, Doliprane and a lipstick.
Your favorite restaurant ?
I have been lucky enough to go to some wonderful restaurants in my life because my dad is a real food lover, but my favourite food of all are his homemade chips, fried in olive oil, with a little thyme and bay leaves. I could live on them.
Your most amazing trip - where, why and when ?
Oh, they've all been beautiful, even the trips I've done close to home! I couldn't possibly choose. But I am really looking forward to my next trip to Iceland.
How did you come across Sessùn ?
I first came across Sessùn quite early on, when I was still living in the South of France, in Montpellier. At the time, there was only one good clothes shop in the whole city (People's Rag) and they sold Sessùn there. I started going out with a boy who worked there so naturally I soon began wearing Sessùn ☺
If you had to describe Sessùn in a few words ?
Sunny, natural and timeless.
A scene in a film that made you cry the most ?
I think I've cried most during Muffassa's death in "The Lion King". I must have seen that film over 300 times and every time I still shed a tear ! Another film scene that really got to me (and God knows there are lots), there's a bit in the film "The First Day of the Rest of Your Life" where Zabou Breitman, who has just lost her husband (Jacques Gamblin), finds his inflatable back cushion. She starts to deflate it by inhaling its contents as it still contains his living breath. Just thinking about it makes me teary !
Your favourite track to dance to ?
"I feel love" by Donna Summer
Your own funny little habit ?
I gently rub my feet together to get to sleep.
Thank you Julie !
Mélanie Elbaz
A story of meeting, sharing, complicity... A privileged moment with the photographer Mélanie Elbaz.
Alexandra Balzam
Saturday 6 July
With the patience and precision of the collector, Alexandra searches the forgotten pieces of the past decades...
Monday 24 June
Gaia is an actress, she talks to us about her career, her projects and her pretty habits...
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redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaCommonCrawl


FC Augsburg is a German football club based in Augsburg , Bavaria . The team was founded as Fußball-Klub Alemania Augsburg in 1907 and played as BC Augsburg from 1921 to 1969.
Logo of BC Augsburg 1921-69.
In the face of impending financial collapse, BC merged with the football side of TSV Schwaben Augsburg in July 1969 to form FC Augsburg, however Schwaben was unhappy with the result and re-formed its own football team in 1970. For this reason, FCA is generally not considered to carry on the traditions of TSV Schwaben, only those of BC Augsburg.
Prior to World War II the club's best performance came as a second place finish in the Gauliga Bayern in 1940. After the war it played regularly in the top-flight Oberliga Süd with occasional laspes which dropped it to the second division.
Since the formation of the Bundesliga in 1963, the Augsburg side has spent most of its time in tier III leagues. They managed two seasons in the 1960s in the second division, and enjoyed another eight seasons at that level in the mid-70s and early 80s. The club's most successful season was undoubtedly 1973-74 when, freshly promoted to Regionalliga Süd, they won the league with a team led by Helmut Haller and missed out on an advance to the Bundesliga by only one point. A highlight of that season was the away game at its old rival TSV 1860 München which attracted 90,000 spectators. However, the club could not match this success in the following seasons and was back in the Bayernliga in 1979-80. They advanced to the national amateur final that year where they dropped a 1:2 decision to VfB Stuttgart II.
In 1981 and 1983 the club returned once more to the 2nd Bundesliga, just to be relegated straight away again. In 1983, a young FCA team missed survival by just three goals, being on equal points with the 16th placed Union Solingen. In 1994 they had another try at promotion in the last year of promotion play-offs to the 2nd Bundesliga. However, the Bavarian champion was not grouped with the other southern German clubs as in previous years and had to face stronger clubs in the northern group that included Eintracht Braunschweig and Fortuna Düsseldorf. Despite being overmatched and unable to advance, they still had good support in the region with crowds of 20,000 plus turning up at these games.
When a potential investor backed out, the Deutscher Fußball-Bund (DFB or German Football Association) denied the debt-laden team a license, and as a result, the 2000-01 and 2001-02 seasons were spent in the Oberliga Bayern (IV) before a return to the Regionalliga Süd (III). FCA came achingly close to advancing to 2.Bundesliga in 2005, but missed their opportunity after giving up two goals to Jahn Regensburg in the last four minutes of their final game of the season. The club dominated the Regionalliga Süd the next year, winning the league and clinching a berth in the 2nd Bundesliga for the 2006-07. This marked their first appearance in the 2nd Bundesliga in 23 years. They finished the campaign in seventh place on 52 points, only 8 points away from promotion to the top-flight. One again, the game at TSV 1860 was the highlight, with a 3-0 victory for Augsburg in front of 69,000 in the Allianz Arena. Ralf Loose replaced Rainer Hörgl as head coach in October 2007 when the club found itself in the relegation zone. Loose's contract was terminated on 16 April 2008 after a string of bad results. He was replaced with Holger Fach two days later. The club avoided relegation on goal average, being on equal points with relegated side Kickers Offenbach at the end of the season.
The long time home ground of the FCA, Rosenau Stadion, built from World War II rubble, may finally come to its well deserved rest in 2009 when a new stadion is slated to be completed. The new Impuls Arena is also scheduled to host games of the 2011 FIFA Women's World Cup.
The historically indifferent performance of the senior side was offset by the success of the club's youth team, which captured a national championship in the under-18's in 1993, being the last non-Bundesliga club to do so. They also took four Cup titles in the early 1990s, all under the guidance of coach Heiner Schuhmann. With Schuhmanns departure for Bayern Munich, the golden age of FCA youth football ended and the club could not quite achieve so highly again. With the formation of the Under 19 Bundesliga (2004) and Under 17 Bundesliga (2007), the clubs youth teams slippt to second division status and in 2008-09, the under-18's and under-16's youth teams play in the Under 19 Bayernliga and Under 17 Bayernliga, the second tier of youth football.
FC Augsburg's reserve team currently plays in the Landesliga Bayern-Süd (V), having been promoted to the league in 2004. The club did not field a reserves team at all between 1989 and 1997, preferring instead to concentrate on its successful youth program.
The FC Augsburg II finished fourth in their league in the 2006-07 and 2007-08 seasons and remains at this level for the 2008-09 season.
Helmut Haller, who scored against England in the 1966 World Cup final, made 19 appearances for the West German national team while playing for Augsburg from 1957 to 1962.
For recent transfers, see List of German football transfers summer 2009 and List of German football transfers winter 2008-09.
The Augsburg derby was last played at the league level on 25 November 2000 when both Schwaben and FCA were in the Bayernliga with Schwaben winning 2-1. Considering the opposite directions the two clubs have since taken, it is hard to imagine FCA avenging this defeat in the near future. Matches between the two sides are generally regarded as a continuation of the old BCA versus Schwaben rivallry.
The rivalry of those two clubs results in part from their close proximity, Augsburg being only 64 km from Munich via the Autobahn. It began in earnest in 1973-74 when both clubs played for Bundesliga promotion in the Regionalliga Süd and carried on in the 2nd Bundesliga Süd. It heated up again in the Bayernliga from 1983 to 1993 when both tried unsuccessfully for years to return to professional football. After this, their ways parted for 13 years, till FCA regained its 2nd Bundesliga status in 2006. Since then, their games against each other have become huge crowd magnets for the region, well above 2nd Division standards. The Rosenaustadion with its current capacity of 28.000 has both times been sold out and the Allianz Arena in Munich with a capacity of 69.000 comes close.


Just wanted to let you know that we have some exciting things coming down the pipeline, including blog posts, guests blog posts and some other tasty secrets.
If you'd like to participate and guest blog for Primo and Mary's please feel free to reach out and let me know!
Recipes, Local Eateries, etc…If you have something to share, we can all learn and enjoy the tastes that are in our area.


Description: Sequel to the award winning Blockular This game is online.
Instructions: Check inside the game for instructions on how to play Blockular 2.
Sign up or Login to post a comment about Blockular 2!


Thread starter gCreate Jesse L.
If you are looking for a durable, flexible, and elastic material than TPE or TPU is the choice. TPU (Thermoplastic Polyurethane) is a compound of hard plastic and rubbers suitable and mostly used for FDM printing. This blend allows TPU to stretch and bend with ease making it perfect for shock absorbing, vibration dampening, cases or covers and even fashion. TPU can be tricky to print with because of its stringy nature and its tendency to squeeze out of the openings in your extruder drive, but once you dial it in, it can be one of the most fun and functional materials to print!
There are many different kinds of TPU and TPE with different Durometer ratings. Durometer (or Shore Hardness) is defined as a material's resistance to indentation, or in other words, how soft (or hard) a given material is. Most TPUs will have their durometer listed on their material info sheet. Most often you will see it listed as a 2-Digit number followed by a letter, such as "85A", this is an example of a softer, more elastic filament whereas 45D is a harder, more rigid TPU. The higher the number, the harder the material. .
When you purchasing TPU, the manufacturer will always include a recommended printing temperature. When looking at that range it is always better to aim hotter than it is cooler. TPU is can be very flexible and can get backed up in the drive gear if it requires to much force to push the filament out. The best way to increase the ease of flow and relieve the pressure is to print hot!
If you are having difficulty printing TPU you're more than likely printing too fast. TPU has the tendency to take the path of least resistance, If there is even the smallest back up in the nozzle your TPU will squeeze its way out of any opening in your drive gear it can (Picture above). This cause prints to fail, nozzles to clog and above all else endless frustration. So Just like increasing your temperature, slowing down your print will ease the stress on the filament as its being pushed through the drive gear. This leaves more time for the filament to heat and melt in your hotend and allows everything to flow freely will no resistance.
Dialing in your retraction settings are key for printing TPU. Many people suggest printing with no retraction at all, but this can lead to stringy, pimply prints but If your retraction value is too high then your prints will clog and the filament will jam.
Finding the perfect balance can be tricky and it will depend on the durometer of your TPU. The harder and more ridged your TPU is, the more retraction you can use because it's less likely to stretch and deformed as its yanked in and out of the hotend. This, unfortunately, is a trial and error process, its best to start at your normal retraction settings and work your way down.
Relieving pressure in the nozzle is so important while printing TPU. Along with printing Hotter and slower, printing with a larger diameter nozzle such as a 0.8mm or even up to a 1.2mm can drastically increase your success rates while printing TPU. The larger nozzles allow TPU flow through the nozzle much more freely.


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POC Ventral aero helmet launched - "fastest and most aerodynamic, ventilated, lightweight and safest helmet ever developed"
by David Arthur @davearthur March 2 2018
Air goes through rather than around the helmet
Aero helmets, they're hot right now, and another to add to the growing list is the brand new POC Ventral. Swedish company POC has today launched its latest aerodynamic road helmet and as is usually the case with aero products, it's claimed to be the fastest and most aerodynamic, ventilated, lightweight and safest helmet ever developed. That's a lot of claims.
- Should you buy an aero helmet?
Jonas Sjögren, POC CEO said "Over the years we have developed a number of advanced performance helmets. The award-winning Octal is well known, but our Octal Aero, Cerebel and Tempor helmets have also been fundamental in improving aerodynamic performance and times for many track and road riders.
"With all our experience, we wanted to push our ideas even further and develop a ventilated aero helmet that would give significant speed gains to a rider and further improve safety."
POC's previous helmets have certainly made statements. Its Octal in bright colours stands out from the crowd, and the Octal Aero was simply that helmet with the vents filled in. The new Ventral Spin looks to be a significant step forward in the pursuit of aerodynamics, with an all-new design that channels air through the helmet, rather than around it.
Common wisdom would be that to create a low drag helmet the surface needs to be smooth and shaped in such a way to flow air around it. However, POC has come up with a design that channels air through the helmet rather than around it. This, it claims, reduces the wake behind the helmet and results in reduced drag.
"The Ventral SPIN has been designed with specific airflow zones in the helmet to create different pressure zones, inspired by the Venturi effect, which has the effect of increasing airflow and speed allowing the helmet to pass through the air with greater ease and efficiency," explains the company.
The Ventral has precisely sized and angled front air intakes which channel air through the helmet, instead of around it, with internal channels controlling the passage of air and exit ports designed to work with this channelled air.
Any air that doesn't enter the vents flows over the helmet where 'aerodynamically optimised' trailing edges reduce turbulence and maintains a linear airflow.
Poc doesn't provide an aero data or claims for the new Ventral helmet, and we've no idea if they've benchmarked it against rival aero helmets. We'd presume they have conducted that sort of testing to see how its new helmet compares.
Cooling can be an issue with other aero helmets in hot climates, but Poc reckons the internal airflow enhances cooling inside the helmet.
- Six of the best Aero road helmets
Safety is of paramount importance to POC, and the new helmet will feature its own rotational impact protection system called SPIN, its own take on the more popular and common MIPS. It first debuted in the company's snowsports helmets but is now available in a cycling helmet.
SPIN, short for Shearing Pad INside, involves silicone-filled pads placed at strategic places inside the helmet intended to allow a small range of rotational movement so the helmet can move relative to the head. POC says it reduces the amount of force transmitted to a user's head and brain in the event of an oblique impact. It reckons that angled impacts are the most common and its research shows that this sort of impact can cause serious head injury with a much lower impact force.
"Rotational impact protection is necessary to counter the forces involved in oblique impacts, which are a common cause of head injury. SPIN pads are integrated inside a helmet and add an extra layer of rotational impact protection by shearing in any direction, allowing the head to move relative to the helmet, reducing the force transmitted to the brain," explains the company.
"Without SPIN pads the remaining rotational impact energy would require nature's impact defence system, Cerebrospinal fluid, to react. However, by using SPIN pads another layer of protection is introduced as SPIN pads are able to shear in any direction and reduce the energy and force transmitted to the head."
Elsewhere, the new Ventral helmet uses a fully wrapped unibody shell made with an EPS liner and a lightweight retention system with easy adjustability. There's a new eye garage for when you're not wearing your shades. A size medium will weigh a claimed 248g.
The new Ventral is available now and costs €299. More at www.pocsports.com
The new helmet was developed by the company's aerodynamic experts and tested not just in a wind tunnel, but also put to use by the Cannondale – drapac Pro Cycling Team. The new Ventral helmet will be used by the team in a race for the first time at Paris-Nice.
Jonathan Vaughters, CEO, EF Education First – Drapac p/b Cannondale Pro Cycling Team, added "We've been partners with POC since 2014 and their innovation and support has been essential to the success and well-being of the team. The reality of modern road racing is that results can often come down to the thinnest of margins. The Ventral gives us strong aerodynamics and doesn't compromise at all on safety. Our riders also provided input in the Ventral's development and are now looking forward to racing in it."
pocventralHelmetpoc ventralaero helmetaerodynamics
David Arthur @davearthur
David has worked on the road.cc tech team since July 2012. Previously he was editor of Bikemagic.com and before that staff writer at RCUK. He's a seasoned cyclist of all disciplines, from road to mountain biking, touring to cyclo-cross, he only wishes he had time to ride them all. He's mildly competitive, though he'll never admit it, and is a frequent road racer but is too lazy to do really well. He currently resides in the Cotswolds.
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Movie trailers are a funny thing. While cinephiles and fans are eager for new footage of upcoming blockbusters, they're also a double edged sword. Because if too much is given away in the trailer, it can potentially spoil the film's contents. DC's Aquaman has been accused of this, as the two trailers seemingly gave away the plot of James Wan's superhero flick.
Well, that's a relief. Because while Aquaman's trailers have been sweeping and large in scope, there's apparently plenty up James Wan's aquatic sleeves. So rest easy DC fans, because Arthur Curry's first solo movie is still going to surprise us.
James Wan's newest tweet will no doubt please the DC fans out there, who are hoping that the still blooming shared universe will get another critical hit with Aquaman. Patty Jenkins' Wonder Woman is so far the only DC blockbuster met with good reviews, and fans were hoping that James Wan's acclaimed vision and directing style would help bring Aquaman's world to life.
The vision Jame Wan brings to his work can largely be seen by his impact on the horror genre. His movies Insidious and The Conjuring both brought totally unique visuals to the silver screen, terrifying audiences in the process. Furthermore, his creations have spawned massive franchise like the Saw movies and Conjuring shared universe.
Furious 7 was also directed by James Wan, proving that he wasn't a filmmaker bound to one genre. The Fast and the Furious movies are massively expensive, so the director has the experience to back up a DC blockbuster like Aquaman. In fact, he's bringing on frequent collaborators like Patrick Wilson (The Conjuring), while also making liberal changes to how Atlantis was set up in Justice League.
The pressure is on for James Wan to deliver a satisfying new blockbuster with Aquaman. DC needs a win badly, allowing for momentum to build with upcoming releases like Shazam!, Joker, and Birds of Prey. Jason Momoa's Aquaman was a welcomed breathe of fresh air in Justice League, so his future in the DC Universe likely depends on the solo movie's performance. Luckily, pre-sale tickets are selling like hot cakes.
Aquaman will arrive in theaters on December 21, 2018. In the meantime, check out our 2019 release list to plan your next trip to the movies.


text:
Миньо́на Я́новна Хе́хта (до 1955 — Са́ксе) (; р. 7 октября 1930, Рига, Латвия) — советская волейболистка, игрок сборной СССР (1952—1958). Чемпионка мира 1952, чемпионка Европы 1958. Нападающая. Мастер спорта СССР (1952).

В 1948—1963 выступала за команду ЛГУ/«Даугава» (Рига). В её составе стала бронзовым призёром чемпионата СССР 1960. В составе сборной Латвийской ССР — бронзовый призёр чемпионата СССР и Спартакиады народов СССР 1959 года.

Миньона Хехта (Саксе) — первая волейболистка Латвии, вошедшая в сборную СССР. В её составе: чемпионка мира 1952, чемпионка Европы 1958, серебряный призёр европейского первенства 1955.

После окончания спортивной карьеры работала преподавателем физвоспитания, а затем модельером.

Источник
 Волейбол. Энциклопедия/Сост. В. Л. Свиридов, О. С. Чехов. Томск: Компания «Янсон» — 2001.

Персоналии по алфавиту
Волейболисты СССР
Чемпионы мира по волейболу
Чемпионы Европы по волейболу

redpajama_set_name: RedPajamaWikipedia


text:
Cyrtodactylus tiomanensis este o specie de șopârle din genul Cyrtodactylus, familia Gekkonidae, ordinul Squamata, descrisă de Atulananda Das și Swee Cheng Lim în anul 2000. Conform Catalogue of Life specia Cyrtodactylus tiomanensis nu are subspecii cunoscute.

Referințe

Legături externe

Cyrtodactylus


34 best Balcony privacy screens images on Pinterest | Balconies ... Vinyl printed screens for more privacy on your balcony, patio or terrace. | See more ideas about Balconies, Balcony and Balcony privacy screen.
Screening - All architecture and design manufacturers - Videos Compose your privacy screen The privacy screens system, created for ... Even in windy weather you want to fully enjoy the sun in your garden or on your terrace.
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25 Bamboo Fencing Ideas for Garden, Terrace or Balcony Aug 17, 2016 ... A bamboo screen can transform your garden, terrace or balcony into a cozy ... panels or partitions to create more privacy between two gardens.
Balcony Privacy & Protective Screens: Garden & Outdoors: Amazon ... Results 1 - 24 of 240 ... Online shopping for Balcony Privacy & Protective Screens from a ... Collapsible Awning ? Outdoor Terrace Garden Privacy Protection 【.
17 Creative Ideas For Privacy Screen In Your Yard Privacy is an important component of decorating the yard for many homeowners. Aesthetics of the home may require that privacy is, of course, a part of the.


Cowslip Primrose and breastfeeding. Are they compatible?
The root and the flowers are used.
The root contains phenolic glycosides and triterpene saponins. The flowers contain flavonoids (quercetin, kaempferol, luteolin ...) and saponins (primula acid).
Indications from Commission E of the German Ministry of Health (Blumenthal 1998 p 189), ESCOP and EMA (EMA 2007): expectorant and mucolytic for colds of the respiratory tract.


Let's face it, if you're in business, you're probably in the business of making money. As the old saying goes, sometimes you gotta spend money to make money; and that's 100% correct, but there's another great saying: "sometimes the best things in life are free".
Deep down, we all love FREE.
And because we all love free, I've chosen 7 very useful tools for online entrepreneurs that are 100% free to use and can offer a ton of value despite the $0 price tag. Let's take a look!
This gets position one on my list because it saved me from a serious bout of email marketing rage a few months back. You see, when trying to deliver an ebook via AWeber I was met with an issue where the size of my attachment was too large. I tried to fiddle with the file size without success and so did what any other guy struggling with a technical issue would do… I turned to Google for help! Like the mind-reader it is, Google delivered me just the tool I was needing… SmallPDF.com.
This app compresses your PDF in the cloud for free to a perfect size that is still good quality. Got a file that needs to be quickly reduced in size? Upload it to SmallPDF.com and let the free software go to work and reduce that file size right before your eyes!
I struggle with title suggestions and because I hold many contributor accounts, I sometimes struggle with topic ideas. Hubspot's topic generator is often featured in these type of lists and for good reason… I can almost guarantee that you'll come up with a new blog post idea, or a cool title by using it. As it suggests, just – Fill in the fields with terms (preferably nouns) that you'd like to write about, and it will come up with a selection of relevant blog post titles in a matter of seconds!
Visme is a free, simple-to-use online drag-and-drop presentation and data visualization software. If you are using infographics as a way to present your online content visually, or for the fantastic SEO benefits that infographics can provide, Visme is worth checking out for sure. My buddy Sean from ListFitness.com just had an infographic he created recently picked up by HuffingtonPost.ca and scores of other sites, which is a huge benefit from an SEO perspective. Producing content beyond simple written format is one of the keys to creating buzz around your online properties nowadays, so Visme is one to consider for your visual content needs. See it in action here.
Sometimes I'll come across a sweet looking site that is clearly a WordPress site (my CMS of choice) and I'd love to know the theme they're using. Ever experience the same? If so, just copy the URL and paste into WhatWPThemeIsThat.com and you'll be presented with the theme and a list of the plugins they're using on their site. Pretty cool!
While we're on the subject of snooping on what other people are doing, I play in the SEO world where you quite often learn the most valuable information by checking on what competitors are up to. If you want to snoop around to see what other sites a competitor might own, perhaps get a bit of a feel for what other niches you could possible enter, just take advantage of SameID's 5 free searches per day.
SameID will retrieve data using ID types such Analytics, Adsense, Amazon affiliate/product, Clickbank affiliate/product, Addthis and also IP address to serve a list of website potentially owned by the same person.
I was recently introduced to this and it is amazing. It has many genuine uses, but if spying on your competitors to get an edge is up your alley, just pop a competitor into BuiltWith and see what gets returned! Wondering what theme, widgets, and plugins they're using? It'll tell you that. Wondering how they're monetizing? It'll tell you that. Curious about their email marketing software of choice? Yep, that's given to you. Seriously, pop a competitor into the BuiltWith and you'll understand exactly why this gem is in my list.
Finding decent images can be a pain. I have a paid subscription to DepositPhotos.com but occasionally I reach my daily limit of photo downloads just as I'm about to hit publish on a post and I need an image right now. Enter PhotoPin.com. What I like about this site is that it has decent images and makes attributing that image very simple with copy and paste HTML for attribution. Worth checking out.
There you have it, 7 internet marketing tools that are 100% free to use that really are too good not to use (and SHARE)!
Sony did have plenty of products to debut at CES 2019, starting with their 8K LED TVs, one of the biggest trends in consumer tech out of CES 2019. Speakers, OLED TVs, and turntables: Here's what to know about each of these new products Sony will roll out in the near future.


Thanks to ARC's Jenny Haysom for mentioning the Palimpsest reissue of Steven Heighton's groundbreaking Stalin's Carnival.
At the heart of the book lies a group of powerful poems that examines the transformation of Josef Stalin from romantic and political poet to notorious dictator. This remarkable sequence is framed by two others: the first a suite of highly physical poems that embrace, through form and content, the human body and ideas of order; and the second which explores dissolution and entropy, and the eros that redeems them. This reissue has been revised by Heighton and includes his preface, as well as an introduction by Ken Babstock.
Pick up a copy of Stalin's Carnival now!


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PBTV carries a range of mobile screen LED solutions. These mobile screens are based on a trailer for ease of use and portability for Image Magnification (IMAG) or video delays for large crowds at concerts, events, festivals, etc. These mobile video systems feature a pre-assembled and fully rigged LED video screen mounted on a hydraulic mast that can lift the screen up over the truck and allow the screen to be rotated to the best possible viewing angle for your audience.
The standard PBTV LED Mobile Video package is a 12'x20' HD trailer-mounted large-screen LED display. This LED video trailer employs digiLED MK7 7mm LED video modules for superior image quality and brightness levels. This trailer can handle screens ranging from 9'x16' up to 13'x23'. It comes standard with 7mm LED modules, but digiLED DLPo 5.9mm LED modules can be substituted.
We have deployed mobile video systems like these for major events all over the U.S. including the March For Our Lives protest in Washington, DC, the Cubs 2016 World Series Victory Celebration in Chicago's Grant Park, Pimlico Race Track in Baltimore, as well as a wide variety of festivals, auto races, outdoor events, concerts, and parades. Essentially anywhere that large amounts of people need to clearly get your message.