Hello
Cool
Final
Zabriskie
Explosions
Friday, April 9, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Nuit Blanche at 141 Ann. Montreal.
Nuit Blanche at 141 Ann in Griffintown
Thank you to CoMotion Farm for hosting us.
Well, we played on nuit blanche in the open space of factory walls and mish-mashed artworks strewn about. On a white floor of paper we came together without rehearsal to perform simultaneous individual acts, one of us for the first time, one with practise and one with ownership. All devoted to destruction we made no claims to perfection nor presented ideological impressions. We did things at the same time that we were relatively good at. The cohesion for the work was only the content of our focus with these things. So... ya pictures is all we got left.
Nuit Blanche at 141 Ann in Griffintown
Thank you to CoMotion Farm for hosting us.
Well, we played on nuit blanche in the open space of factory walls and mish-mashed artworks strewn about. On a white floor of paper we came together without rehearsal to perform simultaneous individual acts, one of us for the first time, one with practise and one with ownership. All devoted to destruction we made no claims to perfection nor presented ideological impressions. We did things at the same time that we were relatively good at. The cohesion for the work was only the content of our focus with these things. So... ya pictures is all we got left.
Nuit Blanche at 141 Ann in Griffintown
be-lated nuit blanche critique
i read many books on Art Theory, stage relantionship, spectacle and torture
(foucault is very popular with the young people)
While Ben beats himself with his fist. and breaks stereos with a baseball bat.
M. Kelly came on half way with a plastic smile playing the banjo.
There were many reactions many frowns, one woman said "i can't hear"
"why doesn't he talk louder" "shhhh- this is Art"
other comments: "well, atleast it was interesting."
"funny and scary"
Their ears were straining for an explanation through words.
There was no sacred meaning.
You are invited to an empty conference, you are the guest lecturer.
These are men who have no opinions that expand outside the borders of the stage.
There are no undercurrents.
No comments on the Media.
Some sort of sacrilege initiation rite?
You are invited to interpret however you like.
There is nothing behind: a moving mouth
a beating fist
a strumming banjo
pop music
These are young men without a message to send you.
Does this pose a problem?
They would like you to know they have the gumtion to grasp the molotov
but once its flaming in their hands they know not where to throw it. perhaps.
(foucault is very popular with the young people)
While Ben beats himself with his fist. and breaks stereos with a baseball bat.
M. Kelly came on half way with a plastic smile playing the banjo.
There were many reactions many frowns, one woman said "i can't hear"
"why doesn't he talk louder" "shhhh- this is Art"
other comments: "well, atleast it was interesting."
"funny and scary"
Their ears were straining for an explanation through words.
There was no sacred meaning.
You are invited to an empty conference, you are the guest lecturer.
These are men who have no opinions that expand outside the borders of the stage.
There are no undercurrents.
No comments on the Media.
Some sort of sacrilege initiation rite?
You are invited to interpret however you like.
There is nothing behind: a moving mouth
a beating fist
a strumming banjo
pop music
These are young men without a message to send you.
Does this pose a problem?
They would like you to know they have the gumtion to grasp the molotov
but once its flaming in their hands they know not where to throw it. perhaps.
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