On Friday January 8th at 6 pm, Gallery 44 will host an artists’ talk with Elinor Whidden, Chai Duncan and Leila Armstrong.
Elinor Whidden considers the notion of progress by likening the promises of today’s off-road automobile advertising to those of the Canada’s Western Frontier when the fur trade first blazed its trails into the wilderness. Whidden’s photo series Ford EXPLORER captures her car-carrying performances in which she endeavours to use car parts as survival tools in the wilds of Northern Ontario.
ABOUT THE ARTISTS Elinor Whidden received a BA in Canadian/Environmental Studies from Trent University, a BFA from the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design and a MFA from the State University of New York in Buffalo. She has exhibited throughout North America, recently showing work in Nova Scotia, Ontario, and Buffalo, NY. 12 POINT BUCK has been working collaboratively for two years. They have shown their work at the Toronto Urban Film Festival, Parlour in Lethbridge and worked in situ at the Southern Alberta Art Gallery. Chai Duncan holds an MFA from the University of Saskatchewan and is currently on staff at the University of Lethbridge. Leila Armstrong acquired an MA in Media Studies from Concordia University and went on to do doctoral studies in communications at Simon Fraser University.
Gallery 44 Centre for Contemporary Photography 401 Richmond Street West, Suite 120 Toronto, Ontario M5V 3A8 www.gallery44.org
Gallery 44 Centre for Contemporary Photography is a non-profit artist-run centre committed to the advancement of photographic art. Founded in 1979, the centre consists of a gallery, resource centre, and production facilities. Gallery 44 is supported by its members and patrons, the Canada Council for the Arts, the Ontario Arts Council, and the Toronto Arts Council.
This Satruday (Jan 9) in Toronto at the Cobourg (533 Parliament St.) Julie Doiron is playing a free show with Constantines Will Kidman opening. Show starts at 10 p.m.
From Said the Gramophone: Julie Doiron - "When Brakes Get Wet" [buy] Months ago, this song came out, and it's short and perfect, and Dan wrote to me and said "it's amazing" and I said yes it is; and I probably used all-caps; but we didn't post about it because Julie's label, Jagjaguwar, only lets you post certain "official release" mp3s, which is what most blogs do I guess; but we wanted to post about "When Brakes Get Wet", and they said no; and Jagjaguwar is a wonderful label so we didn't want to make them mad; even though they are so wrong about that mp3 thing; I mean did you read that the give-away mp3 is always, always albums' best-selling song?; but anyway, now they say we can post about "When Brakes Get Wet", and so here we are, and it's short and beautiful, barely slipping on the rainy street, starsoaked, gentle, plain, perfect.
I sometimes joke about having a crush on Rachael McAdams. This is especially weird (haha.. weirder than actually posting about it??) because there's no reason whatsoever for it. Well, other than she being absolutely stunning.
So, what I'm trying to figure out is, why her? I mean, why her when one has the imaginary pick amongst Maxim's top 100 today? (well, ok, that's media driven obviously, but whatever.. ). I don't know how to explain it, but there is something that draws me to her fictional image/character. I mean, doesn't everyone have a crush on some actor/actress?.. well, haha, maybe not. And no, I'm not totally serious. BUT, I wanted to find out what the hell made me think that way in the first place.
What was this absolute non-connection connection? Why do we like what we like? Music? Aesthetics? Why do we make art? Is it science? Ramachandran vs. the world of hurt? What is it that makes me think I can guess a personality based basically on looks alone? And beyond that, the looks of an actress??!!
John Locke wrote that this "feeling of understanding" for another person had to do with memories and early concrete episodes influencing ones' life, and the associations made to those episodes. However, even amnesia patients seem to have a knowledge of self and seem to carry on their passed patterns and personality; their preferences.
Now, I'm not arguing that we're born with innate ideas (thats a whole other post), but we, I think, and I doubt few would argue, that we are brought up with many implicit examples and ideas that we have never really expressed, or are able to express, except through our actions. What I mean to say is, these memories aren't really memories in the traditional sense, but more in the psychological sense. And these implicit memories have greater impacts on us than we (can/want to) admit. Proceed on the working assumption that most people will carry on behaving as they’ve always behaved so far, sort of thing. Now, I'm not arguing that you can't grow into and out of these 'implicit ideas' (cuz I'm pretty sure learning has a lot to do with it), but that is not the point of this post.. Did that paragraph make any sense?
Anyway, what I'm trying to say, basically, is that from my implicit assumptions of explicit words, I've always been attracted to (the TOTALLY unknown and obviously absolutely ridiculous feeling toward) Rachael McAdams. I mean, if she was renown as the best looking actress out there than you could explain it via sexual selection. Everyone has their sweethearts.. it's not always clear why. This gets into the sexual selection vs. natural selection debate. As Berkley's Evolution 101 puts it, "Sexual selection is a “special case” of natural selection". More clearly and outwardly, why are people attracted to other 'types' of people?
Why do people have 'types'? How do we recognize our 'types' and why, often so easily (naturally) and so quickly? Or, OR, OR.. are we actually bad at recognizing our types, looking for certain traits while dismissing others fairly early? What is the reason that we get together at all? Can constantly looking for the 'wrong types' or 'right types' reflect in parallel with music or art choices? oh boy... and now I realize I'm getting way off topic here.
Let me digress a bit, while still getting even weirder on your ass.
So - weirdly admittedly - I started looking at what attracted others to Rachael McAdams. And totally admittedly, what attracted McAdams to others. So, the classic go-to case here is Ryan Gosling. I mean, if I'm going to carry this idea of small, specific, certain out-of-context traits forming our ideas and consciousness of others based on past implicit experiences, I may as well take it to the next level and apply this to someone else. I didn't know much about him, and I still don't, but I have found this.
This is Ryan's band, and it sounds, to me at least, like music I've made. Or, perhaps more specifically, like music I thought I've made, and would like to make. Moreover and furthermore, this is gorgeous. Those hand-claps and chorus kill me.
Ok, and now the major connection to Brother's Grimm and Gorey.. This makes me smile for too many reasons that I can not now apparently express... the passivity, the chorus, the harmony, the tambourine, and the child like capture of Gorey.
Feels like similar chord progressions (or jumps), collectivity, production as an in between of She and Him and Arcade Fire.
Anyway...
This guy is pretty awesome in my books. Download the album here (torrent).
Eerie? Kinda (who else do you know that actually acknowledges the influence of Gorey within their craft), but not really... Coincidence?.. big time. Unless you believe there are no coincidences. Which, I haven't really thought about yet in a proper sense (emotionally, mathematically speaking, higher power wise, etc.. ) Anyway, he has gone on to a totally different and additional degree of this characteristic of his personality than I probably ever will! Of course opportunity plays into the equation, but I'm not posting about fate (yet! - or even the opportunity - or even more so, the desire for that self-made opportunity!.. or, the want to take that opportunity.. my head is starting to jumble... ). Regressing (again), perhaps simply (?), there is a passion and commitment there that perhaps opportunity has endowed, and it is an opportunity he has taken and run with well. Moreover and digressing-ly so, this is only looking at one aspect of a person, a similarity vs. a difference. This totally does not define a person in ANY WAY! I apparently want you to be well aware of that.
This post basically is a thought experiment of very isolated terms. Of isolating terms, thoughts, feelings, in terms of information gathering. Is this even productive? Counter? Is this just a form of profiling? How does the person doing the information gathering influence the information? Perception obviously plays a large part here.
Still, I find it pretty awesome to do this sort of thing. It's pretty fun doing these types of things for me... over-analyzing certain aspect of situations, character, perhaps even a defining moment. In general, I think these things mean too much to people, and they also, mean very, very little in the end sometimes. Most of the time, in fact, these things are inconsequential and potentially detrimental to your overall happiness. It's absolutely insane how much there is involved here.
Moreover, and finally getting even closer to the point, poems to me are about analyzing that isolation. About the isolation of a feeling, a thought, about the beauty of it. Maybe about trying to reduce something, anything, individual things, everything, to its absolute essence. Its being(,) maybe.
The progression here is hopefully straight-forward now. I've started a secondary blog filled with poems, thoughts, allegations, and things left unsaid. Not only poems, but short snippets of feelings. SumXy, Sometimes Why, sum(x)(y), http://sumxy.com has a similar objective to the this blog. It provides me an avenue to express the experience; perhaps more so focused within the feelings of the experience as opposed to the gathering of. More than just keeping a record. But not much more... they're mostly just going to be scribblings.
“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” - Maya Angelou ... as I end with a "Wikipedia" reference. God, sometimes I want to smack the shit out of myself.
Anyway, this is probably the most inappropriate way to introduce a new blog, and yeah, I definitely didn't expect anyone to have read this far, but that was also kind of the point. Welcome back Sometimes Why. Once a band, started way back in the 1998, wishing they had more chorus, that I'm trying to carry on for.
Everyone has that little black book. Whether it's real or not, they write in it. For some reason I feel like sharing it. All confessions expressed, here in white on black. I have a feeling like it's/they're/the blackbook/the feelings are not my really my own, but from a collective of experiences. These are not poems, not by any stretch of your imagination. But, it's a start. It's stuck in my head from somewhere or someone to always try to do that which is hardest. I've never been all that good at expressing myself, or at least I've been told.
----
Stop.
----
Ok, now that I've exposed myself as absolutely ... something... , it's time to bury this post under the tangible world.... Sorry. There will be more. There is always more.
I got caught in a storm And carried away I got turned, turned around
I got caught in a storm That's what happened to me So I didn't call And you didn't see me for a while
I was rising up Hitting the ground And breaking and breaking
I was caught in a storm Things were flying around And doors were slamming And windows were breaking And I couldn't hear what you were saying I couldn't hear what you were saying I couldn't hear what you were saying
I was rising up Hitting the ground And breaking and breaking
Rising up Rising up
--
The singer Lhasa de Sela passed away in her Montreal home on the night of January 1st 2010, just before midnight.
She succumbed to breast cancer after a twenty-one month long struggle, which she faced with courage and determination.
You never know what's going to happen tomorrow. Kick up the dust. spending my time with stories. stories and songs. banjo fingers and red wine. building up for buttercup. reworking old words. I'll never make it through this never ending stack of edited words from Saskatchewan.
in a photo, i promised you hope. a photo worth all my words, words, words squirreled away in the bowels of a black notebook a photo that stated hope for finding you a plane ticket, flight 496, a perfect number *. I finally sold the ticket to a girl going home to her fathers funeral. when she spoke her voice was soft and calm, but her whole body shook and twitched (we didn't know this however at the moment the photo in question was taken. we didn't know that in the end I wasn't coming to find you. she didn't know her fathers heart would just stop in his sleep at 42)
in a kiss, slow coming like waking up, i promised the rest of me, a person never quite sure of her place, a body so unlike yours, but one fitting so cleanly beneath yours. in a moment, like a camera flash, i promised you my heart. but at this point there is no telling what could happen.
You may return to Alberta.
I could fall in love with someone newer
my heart could just stop in my sleep at 25.
* a perfect number is defined as a positive integer which the sum of its proper positive divisors, that is, the sum of the positive divisors excluding the number itself.
I like the way this article is written. Also, from it, I learned a new word.
Avoirdupois. The word avoirdupois is from Old Frenchaveir de peis (later avoir de pois), literally "goods of weight" (Old French aveir, "property, goods", also "to have", comes from the Latinhabere, "to have, to hold, to possess property"; de = "from", cf. Latin; peis = "weight", from Latin pensum).
The article above, on freezing to death.
"But for all scientists and statisticians now know of freezing and its physiology, no one can yet predict exactly how quickly and in whom hypothermia will strike--and whether it will kill when it does. The cold remains a mystery, more prone to fell men than women, more lethal to the thin and well muscled than to those with avoirdupois, and least forgiving to the arrogant and the unaware.
The process begins even before you leave the car, when you remove your gloves to squeeze a loose bail back into one of your ski bindings. The freezing metal bites your flesh. Your skin temperature drops.
Within a few seconds, the palms of your hands are a chilly, painful 60 degrees. Instinctively, the web of surface capillaries on your hands constrict, sending blood coursing away from your skin and deeper into your torso. Your body is allowing your fingers to chill in order to keep its vital organs warm."
Were you a Norwegian fisherman or Inuit hunter, both of whom frequently work gloveless in the cold, your chilled hands would open their surface capillaries periodically to allow surges of warm blood to pass into them and maintain their flexibility. This phenomenon, known as the hunter's response, can elevate a 35-degree skin temperature to 50 degrees within seven or eight minutes.
Other human adaptations to the cold are more mysterious. Tibetan Buddhist monks can raise the skin temperature of their hands and feet by 15 degrees through meditation. Australian aborigines, who once slept on the ground, unclothed, on near-freezing nights, would slip into a light hypothermic state, suppressing shivering until the rising sun rewarmed them...
... The exertion that warmed you on the way uphill now works against you: Your exercise-dilated capillaries carry the excess heat of your core to your skin, and your wet clothing dispels it rapidly into the night....
...With every one-degree drop in body temperature below 95, your cerebral metabolic rate falls off by 3 to 5 percent. When your core temperature reaches 93, amnesia nibbles at your consciousness.
Your head drops back. The snow crunches softly in your ear. In the minus-35-degree air, your core temperature falls about one degree every 30 to 40 minutes, your body heat leaching out into the soft, enveloping snow. Apathy at 91 degrees. Stupor at 90.
You've now crossed the boundary into profound hypothermia. By the time your core temperature has fallen to 88 degrees, your body has abandoned the urge to warm itself by shivering. Your blood is thickening like crankcase oil in a cold engine. Your oxygen consumption, a measure of your metabolic rate, has fallen by more than a quarter. Your kidneys, however, work overtime to process the fluid overload that occurred when the blood vessels in your extremities constricted and squeezed fluids toward your center. You feel a powerful urge to urinate, the only thing you feel at all...
... At 85 degrees, those freezing to death, in a strange, anguished paroxysm, often rip off their clothes. This phenomenon, known as paradoxical undressing, is common enough that urban hypothermia victims are sometimes initially diagnosed as victims of sexual assault. Though researchers are uncertain of the cause, the most logical explanation is that shortly before loss of consciousness, the constricted blood vessels near the body's surface suddenly dilate and produce a sensation of extreme heat against the skin"...
There is hope.
..."The doctor shakes his head. He can't remember seeing numbers so low. He's not quite sure how to revive this man without killing him.
In fact, many hypothermia victims die each year in the process of being rescued. In "rewarming shock," the constricted capillaries reopen almost all at once, causing a sudden drop in blood pressure. The slightest movement can send a victim's heart muscle into wild spasms of ventricular fibrillation. In 1980, 16 shipwrecked Danish fishermen were hauled to safety after an hour and a half in the frigid North Sea. They then walked across the deck of the rescue ship, stepped below for a hot drink, and dropped dead, all 16 of them."..
Ideally, the doctor would have access to a cardiopulmonary bypass machine, with which he could pump out the victim's blood, rewarm and oxygenate it, and pump it back in again, safely raising the core temperature as much as one degree every three minutes. But such machines are rarely available outside major urban hospitals. Here, without such equipment, the doctor must rely on other options.
"Let's scrub for surgery," he calls out...
For the next half hour, an EMT quietly calls the readouts of the thermometer, a mantra that marks the progress of this cold-blooded proto-organism toward a state of warmer, higher consciousness.
"90.4... "92.2..."...
So. awesomely. fucked. up.
This is great.
And on that note, I'm off to enjoy Sunday outside.
One of the most gorgeous physics theories out there. For some reason, listening to "I'm Goin' Down" by Bruce on youtube I thought of this equation.
I can't tell you how much I love the idea of entanglement, of entangled particles. The very basics of it are this; suppose there are two particles. If particle A is spinning right, particle B is also spinning right. Now, suppose you force particle A to start spinning left (with a magnetic field change - awesome). What happens now is this: instantaneously, no matter what conditions are placed on particle B (distance, environment, etc.), it will also start to spin left. This communication is instantaneous. The information sent from particle A is not confined by the speed of light. This 'information' sent is delivered, processed and executed as if they were one particle, all happening at the same time. This obviously has many theoretically great applications. For example, say you want to turn on a light 30 light years away. Simply change the spin of one particle, and 30 light years away the sister particle will change spin as well. There is no need to wait 30 years for communication through the speed of light. Communication with these two particles is instantaneous.
This lead to the EPR paradox, and contributed to Einstein's disbelief in quantum mechanics.
It is the only known situation that breaks the law of the speed of light. Things are connected, the same, on a different level; a different layer of existence. So. fucking. cool. This is reality.
Beyond the applications, this is a very romantic notion, in my mind. (Yes, it does occasionally happen in science ;) On the occasion of a friends' wedding I (and my girlfriend at the time) framed the top equation with the following from Justin Mullins' website written underneath:
"The connections between ordinary objects are fleeting and superficial. Two atoms may collide and separate, never to meet again. Others can stick together by virtue of the chemical bonds they form, until the day that bond is broken.
But there is another type of connection that is far more powerful and romantic. Certain objects can become linked by a mysterious process called entanglement. Particles that become entangled are deeply connected regardless of the distance between them. If they become separated by the width of the Universe, the bond between them remains intact. These particles are so deeply linked that it’s as if they somehow share the same existence.
Physicists do not yet fully understand the nature of entanglement but there is growing evidence that it is a fundamental property of the universe. Unfettered by the restrictions of space, entanglement may be the ghostly bedrock upon which reality is built."
Also, as Justin Mullins suggests, An End to Uncertainty (New Scientist), is certainly worth the read. I'm now off to drape my walls in the beauty and universality of mathematical equations.
Incidentally, entanglement can be created between any two particles. Also, light can be frozen in space and time, even if just for a second or two. There is soo much...
So, talking to a few Russians in New York (where else?), they said that back in school they were taught that Alaska was leased to America for 100 years, and not actually sold. Sounds like bullshit, but definitely worth checking out. Sounds like a case of 'his-story'.
Looking for information on this, I found very little... some forum hits and just a few articles.
It was today (October 18th) in 1867 that Russia formally let Alaska go, peddling its Russian America territory to the underdeveloped United States for $7.2 million to ensure that its rival European power, Great Britain, didn't get it.
The Alaska State Museum in Juneau has William Seward’s desk that was used during the purchase and the actual check (smaller) from the Russians.
.jpg)
Posts
