danza at the place

i have started to dance again i went to my first dance class and felt my body comea live mi cuerpecito mi naked feet my naked feet on the wooden floor/ i had missed it so i was twirling and twirling and jumping about

dinner for 9

treading down a hall my steps are heavy and filled with anticipation. i enter a wooden room, wooden only in its floor, yet wooden in light. each strip green on top and layers that are ripped away scattering about pieces of paint that reveal a more intimate pink that seems familar. in the back several new friends. tania.gosia.deleuze.faucoult.naginoda.diego luna.each of them sit on a wooden brown chairs with their backs to the wall forming a line against it, all eyes are on me. to the righ there is a metallic perforated surface from the cieling to the floor that recieves the light source from a large window. the surface plays the role of a wall and makes a division from my perspective between deleuze and lecourbusier. ys i just remembered lecourbusier was there as well. paulo is making me dinner in the new chinese asparagus heating device i got from soho,he eyes me amused at my wonder of our dinner guests.there is no table no plates, only paulo smiling at me . there is an erotic presence in the situation, an eery lovely warm light that welcomes yet the only sound emitted from the pots that he opens and shuts seem to remind that there is no chatter from my guests. only stares.welcome.

right about now

im using a big white stone comb with long slender teeth to comb my soul.

no se porque los colores de mexico son el verde blanco y rojo, si yo hicier auna bandera para mexico seria color rosa con ocre.

my mothers art in MEGAPOLITICA MAGAZINE of this month you can buy it!

Número 3 | OJOS EN EL ESPEJO | Imprimir | Enviar

Entrevista
Los Rojos de May Zindel

Pintora de tonos profundos, May Zindel nació en la ciudad de México, vivió 15 años en Chicago y actualmente radica en la ciudad de Puebla. El ojo que escucha se coló en su siesta dominical para una charla sorpresa.

Te voy a hacer una pregunta que a las creadoras y creadores siempre los pone a temblar, sea de coraje o de hastío: ¿por qué pintas?

El pintar o crear se ha vuelto para mí una adicción, es un reto, una búsqueda constante, un descubrir. Es sorprenderte cuando los hallazgos llegan a terrenos insólitos, solitarios, nunca antes explotados. Es el poder congelar el tiempo por un instante, es un misterio. Es el sentirte viva, es el sumergirte en una profundidad mental y aproximarte a una visión más primitiva del mundo.

¿Te ha resultado difícil combinar tu actividad profesional con la de ama de casa, esposa, madre?

Sólo al estudiar la carrera fue difícil, el día no me rendía, no tenía suficientes horas. Estudié arquitectura y después artes plásticas. Tardé muchos años en graduarme, empecé en el 78 y acabé en el 92, pero todo es cuestión de querer hacerlo, de organizarte y siempre recibí el apoyo de mi esposo.

film by may zindel

check this link out its my moms video of toungues....

http://www.arteven.com/v_may_zindel.htm

acrobat,acrobat will u be my lover?from my series flying thru grey skies

tango tanga para vos en el tate

dandole duro

quiero callarme y sentarme y acostarme y no tener nada por decidir. siento que tengo que decidir ultimamente demasiado y me esta hartando. mis pies estan cansados y les gusta presumir que andan caminando brincando bailando por ahi. les gustan las hormigas, pero por aca no hay muchas.

little piggy....

Mister city policeman sitting
Pretty little policemen in a row
See how they fly like Lucy in the sky,
see how they run
I'm crying, I'm crying, I'm crying, I'm
crying

Yellow matter custard, dripping from a dead dog's eye
Crabalocker fishwife, pornographic priestess
Boy you been a naughty girl you let your knickers down
I am the eggman, oh they are the eggmen, oh I am the
walrus,
goo goo g'joob

Sitting in an English garden waiting for the sun
If the sun don't come, you get a tan from standing
in the English rain
I am the eggman, oh they are the eggmen, oh I am the walrus,
goo goo g'joob

Expert textpert choking smokers, don't you think the joker
laughs at you?
See how they smile like pigs in a sty, see how they snied,
I'm crying

aquel que hemos llamado el rey del sexo ha muerto en mis ojos como tal genialidad.

yoni por ahi

im discorvering a new pao under layers of silk under layers of pink taffetta, under layers of humous, under layers of dirty feet,mushy wet mud, under layers onf sand under a bridge of the southbank of london, a pao that sometimes is very comforatable in her skin and confident and lovely and smart and witty and another who is fat and hairy and full of acne and how dislikes the first, anyway, both paos have and are trying to find harmony with each other, there is the quieterpao ( yes quiet for those in disbelief) who is winning a bit at the moment, the quiet pao who is a loner and a bit lonely if she had to admit, but the pao that enjoys being lonely at the same time and who embraces tears and reading in the tube and who sees herself in the window inside the tube across from her, a hort haired pao, with a tiny braid, in flowing skirts and heavy yellow bags full of honey and cheese sandwiches, humus and bananas, a book, a sketch book and a black tiny phone. this pao discovers parks and sits in them, is quite stingy when it comes to money, and wishes she could photograph more people up close without having to ask permission or hide from the photo itself. i wish i had a little camera stuck to my finger tip and i could just CLACK! press it in the air as if i was mimicking a camera action and presto, i would have that photo of the drunken asian girl, trasvesti, beautiful latino girls or old jewish men in the park..

this pao is quite nice. i think i like her kind of sort of.

reading>why is lenin relevant?
listening to> rachmaninooff,feeder,snow patrol, frank sinatra in the picadilly tube stationand a live sax.

bansky manifesto

An extract from the diary of Lieutenant Colonel Mervin Willett Gonin DSO who was
among the first British soldiers to liberate Bergen-Belsen in 1945.

Camp
I can give no adequate description of the Horror Camp
in which my men and myself were to spend the next month of our lives.
It was just a barren wilderness, as bare as a chicken run. Corpses lay everywhere, some in huge piles, sometimes they lay singly or in pairs where they had fallen. It took a little time to get used to seeing men women and childen collapse as you walked by them and to restrain oneself from going to their assistance.
One had to get used early to the idea that the individual just did not count.
One knew that five hundred a day were dying and that five hundred a day were going on dying for weeks before anything we could do would have the slightest effect.
It was, however, not easy to watch a child choking to death from diptheria when you knew a tracheotomy and nursing would save it, one saw women drowning in their own vomit because they were too weak to turn over, and men eating worms as they clutched a half loaf of bread purely because they had to eat worms to live and now could scarcely tell the difference. Piles of corpses, naked and obscene, with a woman too weak to stand proping herself against them as she cooked the food we had given her over an open fire; men and women crouching down just anywhere in the open relieving themselves of the dysentary which was scouring their bowels, a woman standing stark naked washing herself with some issue soap in water from a tank in which the remains of a child floated. It was shortly after the British Red Cross arrived, though it may have no connection, that a very large quantity of lipstick arrived. This was not at all what we men wanted, we were screaming for hundreds and thousands of other things and I don't know who asked for lipstick. I wish so much that I could discover who did it, it was the action of genius, sheer unadulterated brilliance. I believe nothing did more for these internees than the lipstick. Women lay in bed with no sheets and no nightie but with scarlet red lips, you saw them wandering about with nothing but a blanket over their shoulders, but with scarlet red lips. I saw a woman dead on the post mortem table and clutched in her hand was a piece of lipstick. At last someone had done something to make them individuals again, they were someone, no longer merely the number tatooed on the arm. At last they could take an interest in their appearance. That lipstick started to give them back their humanity

Source: Imperial War museum

bansky policemen

bansky in palestine

West Bank, Palestine 2005.

The security barrier separating the occupied territories from Israel is over 450 miles long and 38ft high. It was deemed illegal by the International Court of Justice but construction by the Israeli government continues.

bansky, is a UK london artist who does graffiti , he went to the wall in israel and palestine and recieved this message from a palstenian man:






PM: you make the wall beautiful

b: thanks

PM: we dont want the wall beautiful we hate this wall go home

i will be attending at the bartlett

In Deleuze and Spinoza’s view the body is not considered a substance but
a kinetic and dynamic thing that is organised by “a capacity for affecting
and being affected.” Affect exists only as relation between two bodies and transgresses the borders between self and other, between subject and object.
Affect takes place on an automatic level not consciously registered unless
it is actualized into feeling or emotion. According to Brian Massumi affect operates on a ‘superlinear’ level that is registered by the skin and the
visceral senses as ‘intensity,’ virtual and unqualified experience.

This symposium will closely draw on theories on visual media, especially
cinema and media studies, since technological media confront us with forms
of perception that are non-intentional and a-subjective, not subdued to the
laws of representation and meaning. They can create a shortcut to sensual
and bodily experiences and have the capacity to intensify, alter or distort
the affective dimensions of an image, sound, voice, face or gesture.
Since the meaning and intensity of an image are not necessarily congruent


with each other, affect can be and is easily exploited for political or commercial use.

Apart from the philosophical and aesthetic discourse on affect
and embodiment,
recent findings in empirical psychology and neurobiology have shown that
the effects of affect are real and point to an intelligence of emotions,
as well as an intelligence of the body; they operate on a different
level than that of the rational mind. How do non-conscious automatic
reactions affect and shape the viewer’s experience? How can we write and
think about affect? Which concepts from philosophy and art theory but
also from science can be useful? And how does this level of corporeal
experience resonate with conscious emotions and with processes of
recognition and interpretation?

Keywords:
-affect, feeling, emotion
-viscerality, tactility, synaesthesia, proprioception
-the body-mind as movement, process, becoming
-duration, intuition, memory
-affective mimicry and feedback reactions
-emotional and tactile contagion

by nagi noda a japanese weirdo whom i love

london thru other eyes

recordando los beatles

i think i have posted this before but i dont care.

..named rcoky racooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooonnnnnn
rocky didnt like that he said im gonna get that boy and then one he booked himself a room in a local saloon..... rocky racoon, came into his room only to find gideons bible... rocky had come, equipped with a gun to shoot off the legs of his rival, his rival it seemed had broken his dreams by stealing the girl of his fancy..

( la la la la laaaaaaaa)

her name was mcguill and she called herself jill but everyone knew her as nancy.

im letting a little red dress a little red coat seduce me and im gonna seduce you with a little red coat and a little red polka dot dress mr rooster.

im going to seduce you mr rooster, please come here and kiss my tummy mr rooster mr rooster, have you seen my lovely legs, have you seen my lovely thighs? have you smelled my neck under my tiny braid ? have you kissed it?, kiss it often.

have you seen my green shoes? my tiny little heels? my humble toes?kiss my toes mr rooster one by one.

sil vous plait je besoin d'amour ce soir. sil vous plait, vouz vouz sappelez comment monsieur coque?

soy un espiral de diferentes colores comienzo de paja y me vuelvo seda y luego luego agresiva y despues callada. estoy en cambios y confusiones y frustraciones y pequenos triunfos. estoy cansada. estoy contenta esoty cansada estoy sola. me gusta me frustra me gusta me seduce me enloquece me inspira.

quiero quiero quiero y me canso y lueog me inspiro es dificil es confuso.es facil y derrepente ligero. te quiero y te quiero. y eso no tiene nada que ver con lo primero.

i fucking hate my fucking mexican government

when its time to leave, turn around and leave quietly and dont make a fuss

peckham library alsop architects

girando en el tunel