fredag den 25. marts 2011

f

awwwwwwwwwwwwwww......
tonight is the night. konichiwa bitches

AT

kiss the floor, esméralda

torsdag den 24. marts 2011

dream

tirsdag den 22. marts 2011

!

så meget for turbofluen.....go like på facen


eat my BH


3rdi



wafaa bilal er en irakisk født kunstner. Den 15. december 2010 fik han indopereret et kamera i baghovedet, som sender 24 timer i døgnet.....projeket hedder '3rdi' og du kan følge ham inde på denne hjemme side: http://www.3rdi.me/, hvor du også kan se arkiver af tidligere snapshots fra hans baghoved.


"And the more natural the process by which the storyteller forgoes psychological shading, the greater becomes the story’s claim to a place in the memory of the listener, the more completely is it integrated into his own experience, the greater will be his inclination to repeat it to someone else someday, sooner or later."
- Walter Benjamin, The Storyteller (p. 91, Illuminations)

I am nothing if not a storyteller. My work to date has been concerned with the communication of public and private information to an audience so that it may be retold, distributed. The stories I tell are political dramas, which unfold through my past experience and into the present where they interact with the currency of media as the dialectic of aesthetic pleasure and pain. Through various layers of distribution and interpretation, pictures are drawn using interactive models established through the stories’ (technological) framework where they are revealed and shared. With an audience locked in participation, my story may be retold.

The 3rdi is just such a platform for the telling and retelling of another story. A camera temporarily implanted on the back of my head, it spontaneously and objectively captures the images – one per minute – that make up my daily life, and transmits them to a website for public consumption.

During my journey from Iraq to Saudi Arabia, on to Kuwait and then the U.S., I left many people and places behind. The images I have of this journey are inevitably ephemeral, held as they are in my own memory. Many times while I was in transit and chaos the images failed to fully register, I did not have the time to absorb them. Now, in hindsight, I wish I could have recorded these images so that I could look back on them, to have them serve as a reminder and record of all the places I was forced to leave behind and may never see again.

The 3rdi arises from a need to objectively capture my past as it slips behind me from a non-confrontational point of view. It is anti-photography, decoded, and will capture images that are denoted rather than connoted, a technological-biological image. This will be accomplished by the complete removal of my hand and eye from the photographic process, circumventing the traditional conventions of traditional photography or a disruption in the photographic program. Barthes has said, "...from an aesthetic point of view the denoted image can appear as a kind of Edenic state of the image; cleared utopianically of its connotations, the image would become radically objective, or, in the last analysis, innocent." It is this 'innocent' image that I wish to capture through the 3rdi.

Technically, the 3rdi is an automatic photographic apparatus that is comprised of three different components: a small digital camera permanently surgically mounted to the back of my head with a USB connection, a lightweight laptop which I carry on my body connected to the camera with a USB cable, and a 3G wireless connection to access the internet. The website www.3rdi.me acts as storage and display for the images captured by the camera. The functioning of the apparatus, in theory, is as follows: The camera, through no intervention of the artist, captures an image automatically once a minute and send this image through the USB connection to the receiver (the computer) on my body. The receiver then sends this image through the 3G network to the website, where the images are archived and made available to the public.

The 3rdi makes a technological apparatus part of my body and distributes the recorded content openly within space using the internet. The arbitrary imagery captured by the device will retain fractured records and distribute a narrative to be completed by the viewer as their corporeal space is also compromised by the presentation. Benjamin has described the storyteller as one “who could let the wick of his life be consumed completely by the gentle flame of his story.” (Illuminations) In this way I become locked to the story as its teller, passing the interpretive mode to an audience with little context so it may be transformed for their subjective interactions and subsequent expressions. Using this narrative triangle, the work will comment on ways in which imagery is used for the telling and retelling of stories, whether they belong to us or we make them ours.

high5 miss bilal

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

( . )( : )

double nipple.
My beautiful lilsis: Liva the diva:yo, mary og jeg in the studio::::::::::::


søndag den 20. marts 2011

20. marts 201111111



En dame i nr. 24 sidder modsat en mand og mig, som deler sæde. Damen sidder ved vinduet, og først tror jeg at hun er ifølge med en tyk pige ved hendes side. Damen har en rød jakke på, og rejser sig halvt op, imens hun vinker manden ved siden af mig hen til sig. Han laver en bevægelse med sin hånd, som indikerer at hun skal sætte sig ned igen. ”Jeg skal af om lidt. Sæt dig ned.” Imellem dem er to glasruder. Hun beder den tykke pige om at flytte sig, så hun kan komme ud. De kender åbenbart ikke hinanden. Hun møver sig hen til manden og læner sig halvt indover mig: ”Der er mange af vores venner der er døde.” Siger hun imens jeg kigger på hendes negle, som sidder fast på hendes hånd der klamrer sig om en grå stang. Jeg har solbriller på, så jeg kan glo så meget jeg vil. Hendes hud er ikke gammel, men heller ikke fast. Huden omkring hendes øjne virker hævet og gennemsigtig. Ikke fordi hun har grædt; sådan er den bare. Jeg er ikke sikker, men det var som om hun ikke havde nogen øjenvipper. Måske var de bare meget lyse. Hun remser tre navne op, hvoraf to af dem er Judith og Stinna. Det sidste kan jeg ikke huske. ”De kunne bare ha’ levet’ ordentlig.” Siger han med accent imens han virker ligeglad. ”Er det ikke frygteligt?” Siger hun, hvorefter hun sætter sig tilbage på sin plads. De sidder igen overfor hinanden. Hun kigger ud af vinduet, imens hun indimellem skuler over til ham. Jeg kigger bare på hende. Hendes jakke minder lidt om en ski jakke. Han står af to stop før mig. På vej ud af bussen stopper hun ham: ”Det er mange på én gang, synes du ikke?” Jeg kunne ikke høre hvad han synes.
Ps: Solen skinner.

tirsdag den 15. marts 2011

2006-2011

f-word