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July 31, 2005

Some Glass Required

Metamorphosis 5 added to the playlist.

Since the sixties, Minimalism continues to be a liberating experience allowing artists to break away from a Europe totally immersed in the Darmstadtian avant-garde.

This avant-garde differs from the American one in that its origin stems from a philosophical foundation. Thoreau used to say: "Music, as I see it, is ecological... it IS ecology". Music is thus an extension of life. It is no longer a closed system, but rather an opening enriched with freedom for the individual. From a European point of view, this conception is equivocal. However, this idea can be linked to another basic phenomenon, one of extra-musical origin, namely the oriental philosophies, in which Sol LeWitt, the sculptor, envisages a more mystical than rational perspective in which "illogical judgements lead to new experience"; it is a salutary experience with variety in the repeated pattern, thus granting a specific treatment of space, duration and sound, as duration and rhythm for Glass, as well as for La Monte Young, Terry Riley or Steve Reich, are the main parameters of sound, at the very heart of compositional thought. Moreover, all these musicians are of the same generation - the first one, Young, was born in 1929 and the last one, Glass, in 1937. Glass studied composition with William Bergsma and Vincent Persichetti, and then studied with Darius Milhaud and Nadia Boulanger.

If Young offers a continuous sound of a constant pitch, Riley a repetitive principle subject to the improviser's fancy, and Reich a process of gradual progression, Glass, however, insists on the use of an additive process of development founded on the progression of a repeated figure. He thus proposes a variable within a simple arithmetic gradation: rhythmically in unison and in parallel, contrary or similar motion. Glass's music thus produces sound differences in time, using the same elements in constantly differentiated sequences.

Creating these differences within a context of repetitions is not only the heart of Minimalism, but it is also one of the basic principles of Far-Eastern musics. For instance, tabla music by Ravi Shankar and Allah Rakha that Glass knew quite well, having made a study-trip to India, then to Northern Africa and Central Asia.

When all is said and done, it is freedom in sounds that is essential. Perception is thus altered, inasmuch as, just as the Variations of Incomplete Open Cubes or Serial Project No I by Sol LeWitt modify the relationship between man and object, minimalist music transforms time and duration, replacing external passive listening by internal active listening. The matter of attention is the very interior of the sound. And Glass's minimalist music gives full reign to this experience. Glass enjoys saying that his music is like "the motor on a space machine".

His book Solo Piano (1991) is made up of three pieces, Metamorphosis, Mad Rush and Wichita Vortex Sutra. Metamorphosis consists of five parts. One introduces a simple melody in the upper register accompanied by a ground bass based on alternating thirds which remain constant throughout the cycle of five movements, as well as Mad Rush and Wichita Vortex Sutra. Two uses the same writing but this time ornate with upper register arpeggios. Three, in D minor, makes use of off-beats and Four of off-beats with arpeggios, whereas Five takes up the original theme.

Mad Rush and Wichita Vortex Sutra manifest more development. While Mad Rush takes up the theme of Metamorphosis both, at the beginning and at the end, it is built polyrhythmically using, amongst others, a three-for-two counter rhythm. Wichita Vortex Sutra, the finale, uses off-beats and arpeggios similarly to Four.

Opening for Piano (1982) is stylistically like Metamorphosis, with alternating thirds in the left hand and the three-for-two counter rhythm.

The Olympian - Lighting of the Torch is the most solemn piece, written for special circumstances: the opening of the Olympic Games in Los Angeles of 1984. This composition is hymn-like while remaining faithful to the composer's style.

Philip Glass's music for piano is a true reflection of this "metamorphosis" in receptivity, as shown by the titles: Metamorphosis consisting of five movements, the majestic equivalent of the mandala. The music sketches out a cosmic diagram with the Earth, the Centre and Number Five, surrounded by the four elements; a spirit composed of an uncontrived melodv, a whirlwind, a vortex with in the middle a zone of quietness, prolonged by the tireless and intuitive words of the sutrâ. Philip Glass does not make use of the instant diluted in time, but rather evokes the cyclic instant, an onslaught, Rush, and an opening, Opening, of a multiple instant and an eternal present.

- Olivier Lussac

Posted by lck at 07:21 PM | Comments (0)

A rave gone wild

Today, eighty people, 45 of which policemen, left injured during an anti-riot op to end a rave party in Mlynec, Czech Rep, apparently taking place on a private property.

Gallery: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14

© La Repubblica, July 1st, 2005.

Posted by lck at 06:35 PM | Comments (0)

July 30, 2005

Shamil Basayev on Channel 4

Excellent siberianlight.net reports Shamil Basayev's interview with Channel 4 news in February 2005. The following from siberianlight:

I've just sat through the Channel 4 broadcast, which showed edited excerpts from an hour-long interview.  My first impressions are that, despite rumours of ill health, he looks in relatively good shape, although as he was seated this is hard to tell for sure.  His mental health though, I'm not so sure.  What, really, can you make of a man who talks impassively of the deaths of hundreds of children while sitting cradling a grenade launcher and wearing a shirt prominently displaying the logo "anti-terror"?

The Russian embassy in Washington has made a sharp statement about ABC News company’s broadcasting an interview with Chechen terrorist Shamil Basayev. “The fact that the television company ABC News has decided to ignore the arguments of the Russian embassy against the broadcasting of the interview with international terrorist Shamil Basayev causes indignation,” the embassy said in its statement to ABC.

Banner click for a transcript of a badly translated interview (it seems to me) on kavkazcenter.com or here.

Posted by lck at 04:57 PM | Comments (0)

Donald Weber, photojournalist

An award-winning photographer, Donald studied at OCAD in Toronto and Photojournalism at Loyalist College, Belleville. He is listed in the Magenta Foundation’s Carte Blanche, a compendium of the best Canadian photographers, and is a nominee for the prestigious Worldpress Joop Swart Masterclass in Amsterdam and participated in the Eddie Adams Workshop in New York. He has worked as an architect for Rem Koolhaas' Office for Metropolitan Architecture (OMA) in Rotterdam, The Netherlands, and won a Governor General's Gold Medal in Architecture with Kongats Architects in Toronto. He has traveled extensively in the First through ‘Tenth’ worlds.

Don is a regular contributor to the Globe & Mail and Getty Images, and is Photographer-at-Large for Outpost Magazine, where he is a featured character in the regular comic, Welcome to My Country. His work has appeared in Rolling Stone, Time, Maclean’s, Newsweek, The New York Times, The Los Angeles Times, The Boston Globe, The Guardian and The Guardian Weekly, The Times of London, The Chicago Sun Times, National Post and Los Angeles Magazine. Currently he is working on the book Satellite, about the former Soviet republics of Ukraine and Kyrgyzstan, and When the Snake Whispers Your Name, with writer Larry Frolick.

Posted by zib at 04:35 PM | Comments (0)

Malesan Bordeaux

Time: Another hot sultry wet even though there is a Scirocco a blowin still too damn wet Sicilian night (oh gawd aren't they all, a bit earlier)

Place: The Studio

Accompaniments: Post dinner digital indulgence. Zappa, Velvet and Iggy Pop.

Malesan Malesan, solid, just there for your imbuing pleasure. And a pleasure it is. This is meeting a Strong Man and that woman behind him ;) Be prepared.

First impressions: Strong, elusive (Clooney-esque), where did it go? Merlot is thy father. Is that chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate she says, vanilla he says.

Last impressions: Sometimes being "nuanced" is a Good Thing .

Cost: 4.50 euros
URL: http://malesan.com

Posted by zib at 12:30 AM | Comments (0)

Portuguese

Time: Another hot sultry Sicilian night (namely 2 nights ago)

Place: The Terrazza

Accompaniments: Mixed greens with iceberg, radicchio, pomodori, green olives, topped with fat slices of Israeli avocado, Rambol (delicious herbed French creamy cheese) and Ritz (yeah we got'em here) on the side.

A fine (well, not fine fine but damn good Rosato [rose'] table wine) One you should be able to find on any grocer's shelf. A standard, like Lanciers but with less bubbles for those who find Lanciers way too damn bubbly (hey sometimes bubbles are good). Simple, good, chill it and enjoy. Perfect with salads or fruit. Great choice for shrimp, lobster or crab.

First impressions: OOh nice a Portuguese that is sneeeeeeeeaky. I like it! Kitschy label says he.

Last impressions: Don't you think they should make bigger bottles? Hey, have the splodeys hit there? We gotta visit (but first we gotta Fala Tatau! !

Cost: can't remember under 5 euros to be sure.
URL: n/a

Posted by zib at 12:08 AM | Comments (0)

July 29, 2005

Ping on the wing - dead engine

The tall masked figure in dark turtleneck, jeans, holds the mike on stage. Shortcuts, walks and whispers, harshly, frantically. The man holds a chapbook. Below is a semicircle of chairs. Eight women sitting, blondes and a japanese, dressed in pastels and wearing hats, small toy purses, legs crossed and black wayfarers. They are waiting, impatiently, for the speech. A chair is empty. Lights go dim. A man on a stool, a viola doing the balancing on a foam rest, away to the East. He attacks a G9 chord on the amp, repeats it twice then the figure starts spitting words from behind the mask.

ping on the wing
to humor me, fresh me and surprise,
have a seat, don't be a stranger, repaint air-base in orange, aluminum
and peel me to breathe and back into clouds,
ten years and one does what one can,
ping me to sleep peeling your cheeks,
have a seat, write down the address and get the check.

ping on the wing
here in midmorning with a list of dates,
have a seat, not that big of a deal, writing legal essays on your day off,
please me to sip drip hip at the museum's gallery,
and the water silently waiving and swig,
cross-dressing, string on a tape,
have a seat, toss a coin to settle the slam.

ping on the wing
and the air is moving and we're staying on the road,
see thru the near-explosive burst of sunshine swinging the mood upwards,
ping on the black strip I see you blow in,
double park while I do the port-scan and shave,
the bookshelf to the right of this wall and a drinks trolley,
serve yourself and smile.

Lights go back up and the swingy strings stop. There are nine women now sitting in the shade. The ninth woman is dressed in black. She lifts the sunglasses up, approaches the black figure and gets the chapbook. Then opens the purse and picks up another chapbook and hands it out, then goes back to her seat. Lights go dim, again.

© Fortunato Caragliano

Posted by lck at 09:52 PM

3 movies

Out of a long strand of movies I watched recently the following three: Constantine, The Assassination of Richard Nixon and The Statement, with Iron-3 and 2046 to follow next in the pipeline.

Constantine's strengths are in its visuals. Director Lawrence comes from the music video business, and he develops a vivid palette. Hellfire-tinged mirror image of Los Angeles, innards of a nightclub that caters to those of both angelic and demonic persuasion. The film looks so good that it's almost possible to ignore some of the screenplay's ludicrousities. Source material is "Hellblazer", a series of graphic novels. Reeves filmed after being immersed in the Matrix sequels, is therefore in Neo mode, just less likable and more cynical. The supporting cast is eclectic with Swinton at her most androgynous as Gabriel. The movie fails to take direction and stays loose the longest between several collateral genres.

The Assassination of Richard Nixon offers a compelling title. Director Mueller, making his debut, takes us to 1974, when Watergate was preparing to take down the President. Samuel Bicke (Sean Penn) is a furniture salesman who can do no right. His boss is losing patience with his inability to close sales; his wife, Marie (Naomi Watts), is desperate to get a divorce; and his plans for a new business with his best friend (Don Cheadle) are at risk because the bank is reluctant. As Sam's life disintegrates, he gropes for someone to blame, and he decides that the source of his woes is the President of the US. Sam comes up with a plan: hijack a plane and fly it into the White House, killing Nixon and making himself a martyr. But, as with everything else, Sam screws it up. The Taxi Driver influence is unmistakable. The dissociation from society of the main character is the same. The need to lash out through violence is the same. Where The Assassination of Richard Nixon fails is in its inability to make Sam a compelling character. An irritating loser and whiner who is intent upon abdicating personal responsibility for his failures, preferring instead to blame others or society. It's a trial to spend 90 minutes with this man. Penn provides a great performance with a lot of his mannerisms.

The Statement, a strong cast and some fascinating ideas are enough to keep us glued to this political-religious thriller. One of those odd films where everyone speaks in clipped British accents, even though everyone's French. The story is set in 1992 and centres on Pierre (Caine), a 70-year-old who as a young man in the 1940s was a member of the Vichy Milice, a French police force that carried out Nazi orders. For nearly 50 years he's been in hiding, protected by a secret Catholic society. Now a Jewish organization has found him at just the same time as a French magistrate (Swinton) and her military assistant (Northam) have caught his trail as well. The Jewish radicals want to bump him off, the French government wants to try him as a war criminal. How long can he keep hiding? It's a sharp tale. The cast is very good, with Caine commanding sympathy as a seriously unsympathetic character, Swinton and Northam adding off-beat touches, and Charlotte Rampling excellent as usual in an extended cameo as Pierre's estranged wife.

Posted by lck at 06:55 PM | Comments (0)

Crazy aunt purl

These things happen when you are peeking over your wife's shoulders.
Laurie, a San Fernando Valley resident, probably does not consider her writings here much of a literary matter at all. But her blog is hilarious, posts documented by way of an omnipotent digicam, which she is apparently married with, and her view is of curiosity. So, here she comes, very recommended and a permalink on the sidebar from today onwards.

Don't miss her Talking Trash story.

Keep it up!

Posted by lck at 11:51 AM | Comments (2)

With a little help...

Italian central bank chief faces calls to resign

From Richard Owen in Rome, Times Online, July 29, 2005

The Italian banking sector was in disarray yesterday as Antonio Fazio, governor of the central bank, faced mounting calls for his resignation.

Senior members of the Italian Government were meeting last night to discuss the scandal surrounding Signor Fazio, who has been accused of attempting to block the Dutch takeover of an Italian bank in favour of a local rival’s bid instead.

Consob, Italy’s market regulator, announced that it had suspended Banca Popolare Italiana’s (BPI) bid for Banca Antonveneta because of a “serious lack of transparency”.

In a further twist, ABN Amro, of the Netherlands, which has a minority holding in Banca Antonveneta, took de facto control of the bank after an extraordinary general meeting of Antonveneta’s shareholders elected a 15- member board composed of ABN Amro candidates.

Behind the conflict is the wider issue of Italian protectionism in the run-up to the general election expected next spring. The Italian Left has joined ABN Amro in accusing Signor Fazio of attempting to keep Antonveneta in Italian hands at all costs instead of judging the Dutch bid in terms of its value to the ailing Italian economy.

The row flared up this week when the Italian press published extracts from wiretapped phone conversations between Signor Fazio and Gianpiero Fiorani, chief executive of BPI.

In the wiretaps, authorised by Italian prosecutors investigating market rigging, Signor Fazio asked Signor Fiorani on July 5 to visit him at Bank of Italy headquarters, adding: “The only thing, enter as usual from the back”, to which Signor Fiorani replied: “OK, otherwise there will be problems.” On July 12, Signor Fazio was recorded making a further call to Signor Fiorani to say that he had approved BPI’s offer for Antonveneta.

BPI insisted that it had acted properly at all times.

Posted by lck at 09:59 AM | Comments (0)

July 26, 2005

Jason Todd, photographer

Jason's website could be utilizing space more efficiently but is easy on the mouse and his photography is top-notch, subtle, clean and provocative.
Jason's bio is funny!
Banner-click as always (if you dunno what to do just click-it.)

Posted by lck at 12:35 AM | Comments (0)

July 25, 2005

220 kg of explosive (and a truck and a driver)

The double-size banner above refers to a truck-bomb that exploded today in Mashtal, in the Eastern suburbia of Baghdad. The detonation, according to US sources caused some 40 casualties and 25 injured among the Iraqi police. The same source evaluates the amount of explosive to be around 220 Kg.

The sad face of the young US Marine at the right end of the field (several more dozens US troops roaming around) does not do enough justice for the feelings of desperation and helplessness in this picture but gets close.

There are several questions we should ask ourselves, who sent this young Marine to Baghdad, questions we should be confident with, but, there is one today, arising, by facing the present and daily disaster.

Do we have a Plan B?

Posted by lck at 01:05 AM | Comments (4)

Ricardov

Ricardo Vega is an independent graphic designer. His minimalistic site is a worthy experience, with a full range of illustrated projects and web design as well as drawings, notebooks and more. And there's more in here than we could browse at all at once!

Santiago, Chile

Banner-click!

Posted by lck at 12:38 AM | Comments (0)

July 23, 2005

Mieke Driessen, puppetmaker

Mieke Driessen is a young, playful Illustrator and puppetmaker. Not every day you find somebody who happily uses such a definition. A puppetwhat??? We invited her to showcase and she happily indulged us. We liked her wild and astonishing imagination that puts her apart from mainstream. Thumbs are clickable, click them and read the funny biography that she sent.
Don't forget the Interview (Dutch)

.

Welcome Mieke.

Miekillustratiek.

Hallo, my name is Mieke, some people call me MiekMiek. In 1978 my mum popped me out somewhere in the south of Holland. I graduated in 2004 from the art academy in Breda. Now I am working in mostly a chaos as an illustrator and puppetmaker. My work is most of the time colourful, happy and funny. I made an animation for the Dutch Sesamestreet, for magazines and for some differed expositions. My love and interest goes to little things that make me and other people smile. Most of the time is that something with eyes. If you’ve nothing planned today go to my website.

Greetos from Miekos

Posted by lck at 01:13 AM | Comments (1)

July 22, 2005

Senses of Cinema (36 is out)

Issue 36 is out, beautiful as always. I point out by Scott Murray, filmmaker and a co-Editor of Senses of Cinema (based on a chapter in his forthcoming book, Heroines of Desire): The Films of Walerian Borowcyck. Boro is finally being reconsidered which reassures me that any good born-animator dies at least as a movie-maker cult.

Senses of Cinema home is here

Posted by lck at 12:22 PM | Comments (0)

Wim, get a job

In a modest attempt to take it away with Wim Wenders and recommend everybody to stop trying to convince themselves that one of these days Wenders is going to deliver again something coherent, I am reporting below his biography from Baseline's Encyclopedia of Film. Giving up is good. So give up and look elsewhere for sharp, convincing views and images.

Biography from Baseline's Encyclopedia of Film

Occupation: Director, screenwriter Also: producer
Birth Name: Wilhelm Ernst Wenders
Born: August 14, 1945, Düsseldorf, Germany
Education: University of Freiburg (philosophy, medicine); Hochschule für Film und Fernsehen, Munich

One of the best known directors of the New German Cinema, Wenders is often characterized as the "existentialist" of the movement. Stylistically, his films blend Hollywood forms and genres with elements of counter-cinema. Thematically, his films attempt to disclose states of consciousness-loneliness, irresolution, anxiety-and explore the ambivalent impact of American culture on post-WWII German life. "All my films," Wenders claims, "have as their underlying current the Americanization of Germany." No other German filmmaker has dealt more extensively or more obsessively with the American presence in the European unconscious. Wenders's fascination with American culture began in his childhood. He grew up at a time when American culture provided a diversion for West Germans eager to forget their own past. Extremely shy and introspective as a teenager, Wenders planned to study for the priesthood, but this desire soon gave way to an interest in American music and American film. After studying medicine and philosophy at the University of Freiburg and painting in Paris, Wenders enrolled in Munich's film school, where he made several student films between 1967 and 1970. His first professional feature, THE GOALIE'S ANXIETY AT THE PENALTY KICK (1971), attracted considerable critical attention. The film is based on a novel by Peter Handke, a Wenders friend who would write WRONG MOVE (1975) and collaborate with Wenders on WINGS OF DESIRE (1988). After THE SCARLET LETTER (1973), his least satisfying work, Wenders made ALICE IN THE CITIES (1974), WRONG MOVE (1975) and KINGS OF THE ROAD (1976)-a trilogy of "road movies" that exemplifies his formal and thematic concerns. The best of the three, KINGS, focuses on the relationship that develops between two men as they travel in a van along the border between East and West Germany. Lonely and introspective, they both long for the company of women. By the end of their journey, they derive comfort from the fact that "in the course of time" (the film's German title) their lives have taken on some shape and some significance. KINGS OF THE ROAD is a quiet, almost lyrical film that disdains psychological motivation, suspense and dramatic tension. In that sense, it reflects Wenders's admiration for the films of Yasujiro Ozu. But in its intricate allusions and resonant implications, it evokes Wenders's favorite themes: the difficulties of communication, the Americanization of German life ("The Yanks have colonized our subconscious," one of the characters says) and the fate of German cinema. In THE AMERICAN FRIEND (1977), a film that won Wenders international attention, the director continues to explore these themes. Based on Patricia Highsmith's novel, Ripley's Game, the film depicts the last few weeks in the life of Jonathan (Bruno Ganz), a picture restorer and framemaker living quietly in Hamburg. The real interest of the film, however, is the friendship that develops between Jonathan and Ripley (Dennis Hopper), an American underworld figure who manipulates Jonathan into committing a series of murders. Jonathan finds himself irresistibly drawn to Ripley, even as he is gradually corrupted and destroyed by the friendship. This story allows Wenders to focus on German/American cultural tensions and to explore the exigencies of international filmmaking dominated by Hollywood and American interests. (Two of Wenders's American idols, directors Nicholas Ray and Sam Fuller, play minor roles in the film.) In 1978 Wenders came to the United States under contract to direct HAMMETT for Francis Ford Coppola. After numerous problems with the script and conflicts with Coppola, less than 30 percent of Wenders's original film was retained in the final version, released in 1983. Wenders indirectly documented his problems with HAMMETT in THE STATE OF THINGS (1982), a self-referential film that contrasts European and American ways of making films. PARIS, TEXAS (1984), based on a script by Sam Shepard about a reunion between a drifter and his family, won the Palme d'Or at Cannes in 1984 and represents in many ways the culmination of themes that run through Wenders's earlier films. Wenders returned to Berlin to make WINGS OF DESIRE, a lyrical, largely black-and-white meditation starring Bruno Ganz as an angel who wanders the city, yearning for a physical, human existence. The relative commercial success of the film, which earned Wenders the Best Director Award at Cannes in 1987, led to the production of a sequel in 1993. UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD (1991) is a metaphysical detective romp of global dimensions, with William Hurt, Sam Neill, Solveig Dommartin and others pursuing each other around the world in search of a camera that enables blind people to "see." Half a post-modernist road movie, half self-indulgent meditation on the nature of the recorded image, the result is a disappointingly banal exploration of some of Wenders's most cherished themes. Wenders's WINGS OF DESIRE sequel, FARAWAY, SO CLOSE! (1993), proved to be even less coherent, running well over two hours with little of the lyrical elegance of WINGS OF DESIRE. Coming after the disappointment of UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD, Wenders's recent films have represented a significant downturn in the director's critical and audience reception.

Posted by lck at 11:20 AM | Comments (0)

On the edge of the edge

Guy Maddin’s body of work is as beautiful as it is confounding and delirious. He incorporates the language of past cinema, with which he is most intimately familiar from his countless hours of film viewing, and combines this with a pre-cinematic sensibility learned from the books he voraciously devours. A man of prodigious intellectual appetites, Maddin’s many interests and obsessions can easily be discerned in his work.

His first film, produced through the Winnipeg Film Group, was the haunting family fable THE DEAD FATHER. This brought him the recognition he needed to embark on his second film, the cult hit TALES FROM THE GIMLI HOSPITAL. This film played for months as a midnight movie in New York City and paved the way to perhaps his most delirious and insensible picture, ARCHANGEL. Certainly the most Iyrical of war films, ARCHANGEL is the story of amnesiac lovers skirting the northern frontiers of World War 1, and its release brought Maddin the U.S. National Society of Film Critics’ prize for Best Experimental Film of the Year.

Following this triumph was Maddin’s first work in color, a story of repression and unnatural couplings entitled CAREFUL. The film opened Perspectives Canada at the 1993 Toronto Festival of Festivals and it went on to screen at the Tokyo and New York Film Festivals.

In 1995 Maddin created a short filmic prose-poem based on the work of Belgian charcoalier ODILON REDON. It was organised by the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), who also invited such directors as Jonathan Demme, Jane Campion and Tim Burton. The resulting production won a Special Jury Citation at the Toronto Film Festival and played festivals from New York to London to Telluride, Colorado.

Also in 1995, Maddin was the recipient of the Telluride Medal for Life Time Achievement at the Telluride Film Festival. He is the youngest person ever to have been awarded this honor. Two years later he unveiled his biggest budget film to date, TWILIGHT OF THE ICE NYMPHS, the shooting of which is documented in the Noam Gonick’s film WAITING FOR TWILIGHT.

Maddin has also made many short films, few of which have been seen. These include: MAUVE DECADE (1989), INDIGO HIGH-HATTERS (1991), THE POMPS OF SATAN (1993), SEA BEGGARS (1994), SISSY BOY SLAP PARTY (1995), MALDOROR: TYGERS (1999), and THE COCK CREW (1999).

In 2000, along with other notable Canadian filmmakers, Maddin was commissioned to make a six-minute “prelude” for the Toronto International Film Festival in celebration of their 25th anniversary. The resulting short film, THE HEART OF THE WORLD, was proclaimed by many festival-goers and critics to be the best film of the entire festival and became the most acclaimed film to date of Maddin’s career. It won a special award from the National Society of Film Critics as the best experimental film of the year, won a Golden Gate Award at the San Francisco Film Festival for best narrative short, and was voted one of the ten best films of 2001 by both J. Hoberman of The Village Voice, and A.O.Scott of The New York Times, a highly unusual honor for a six-minute film. In 2002 Maddin filmed the Royal Winnipeg Ballet’s performance of Mark Godden’s ballet “Dracula” for Canadian TV and the resulting film, DRACULAPAGES FROM A VIRGINS DIARY won an International Emmy award and was released theatrically to great acclaim.

Now a regular contributor to Film Comment and The Village Voice, Guy Maddin recently premiered a video peep-show installation COWARDS BEND THE KNEE, (an hour-long feature will be released in August 2004 by Zeitgeist Films).

Maddin’s newest film, THE SADDEST MUSIC IN THE WORLD is based on an original screenplay by Kazuo Ishiguro (author of The Remains of the Day). Starring Isabella Rossellini and Kids in the Hall’s Mark McKinney, the film is set during the Depression in a Winnipeg brewery where a legless matriarch holds a contest to see who can create the world’s most melancholy music.

Posted by lck at 11:12 AM | Comments (0)

July 20, 2005

Ghosts, time and the old girl

[ed- GHOSTS... is a short read from Wendy and, as always, a very welcomed submission - lck]

This island has been my home for the past forty eight years.
I have savored every moment of my life here and do hope to enjoy the rest of my days on this small piece of the rock. For forty of those years I have lived with the ghosts.

They appeared one day, unwelcome but inevitably here to stay. I won't question any deeper meanings as to why, for that is something one does in their youth, when they have their life in front of them and all the time in the world. An old woman touches on the thought but does not dwell, she knows life really is too short.

In the early years they were nothing more than distant memories, after almost a decade had past, they came to stay. This old girl's ego took the battering of a lifetime. Wouldn't you know it, to this day, those same insecurities still remain. When terrified you will loose the one who is closest to you, it scars, scars deep. Time may heal wounds, but not all of them. Even now I look over, watch him dozing in the shade of the cherry plum tree and marvel at the man he is and can't help but wonder yet again why he chose me, of all people. It is one of those few foolish things that I've always allowed myself, to remain in love with him, against my better judgment.

The children have long gone. Their shrieks of laughter and constant chatter grown up, off to their own adventures. They are good people. I did the best I could with them, but the ghosts, clouded a lot of the time I should have been mothering. In the end they turned out okay. Happy. I can't ask for anything more. When they were little I was so jealous of our time. Time for just the two of us, time to talk, time to laugh, time for hands. The ghosts occupied some of that time, I still don't think he realizes what I was complaining about when I complained. Once the little ones left the nest, I had more time with him, and the ghosts.

I offered many times to liberate him from myself. Give him all the time he needs, all the time in the world. He declined every time. To this day I still wonder why. Not that I wanted to leave, him, but the anguish that they caused me, these ghosts, was beyond words. I'm still jealous of our time. When he goes into the shell and I am left here with my words to share with nobody but the migrating birds over head and the sun. Makes this old girl lonely.

I take back what I said, an old woman does have time to ponder those things. She is just wise enough to move on quickly. I'll be going, back in to the house, prepare those greens we picked earlier today in the garden. You should see those tomatoes, best ones we've grown yet.

Then I'll wake him, and we'll have some time.

© Wendy Wonnacott

Posted by zib at 09:05 PM

Five on the fifth - dead engine

[ed- FIVE ON THE FIFTH is being released under a Creative Commons License. You can use it under the CC guidelines which you can find by clicking the CC badge below. This was made to be a song and I encourage you to think of it as such (a shell half-empty waiting for a musical narrative to join the bones). Underwave, a local band, will release a version using the lyric and the song will be made available via Timeline. Think of it as a Byrd's tune of sorts... you get the pitch, smartass. - lck]

Easy on the eyes drops a rookie card
flat on the counter, table three of seven,
relax in his seat Mary reaches fourteenth
whispers naked astronomy with a five on the fifth.

The Pink and the Blue are tied with their counters,
Harry skips the die and places in the casual,
the loser runs out, plays the Mary Chip card,
the Pink and the Blue reveal self-esteem.

Cheer your opponents with a five on the fifth.
Nowhere to go with a five on the fifth.

She bookmarks the day upon a heart-full of gold,
the meanest goes empty handed at all
against the edge of the desert standing the challenge
an island card and the Polar Beer can.

The rookie plays Winter and Spring
forecasts an order and jumps on the die,
moves further back on a vodka martini,
shuffle the race with a generous smile.

Cheer your opponents with a five on the fifth.
Nowhere to go with a five on the fifth.

Easy on the eyes drops a rookie card
the back and the faster right by the yard
The Pink and the Blue on table twelve chatting,
cheating in a corner and kiss a five on the fifth.

I get stuck in the narrow,
run out of cards,
cross the line but three rounds win a stop thief face,
walk over eleven on a different flight.

Cheer your opponents with a five on the fifth.
Nowhere to go with a five on the fifth.

Is George’s turn, lands on a place,
parachute fighter down from a tree,
banana split and rum is all I can see
passes the square and starts chasing me.

Loose romance rookie
thru the black empty windows
for me and them and the gaming boards nuts,
transporters and factories just minutes to go.

Cheer your opponents with a five on the fifth. [4]
Nowhere to go with a five on the fifth. [4]

Posted by lck at 07:21 PM

July 18, 2005

Ajax: a new approach

Jesse Garrett is back on Adaptive Path with an excellent essay on new approaches in Web Applications Development.
A must read. Banner-Click 2 article.

Posted by lck at 06:21 PM | Comments (0)

July 17, 2005

My Ukrainian girl - dead engine

I'm in love, I sweat on a new girl and on changing lanes. She's Ukrainian, a synchronized swimming trainer roaming around Europe these days and what not. Making Milan, Valencia, Zurich, strolling in public, leaving a trail, a reptile, I love her. I call her a pedophile, ain't she, dragging the carrot dish, cart and Oreos action, looking for unnamable, soda on sale and Mexican chips, trust and post-humans Russian, Spanish, German. Altogether. I suck at these things, I'm from Memphis, what do I expect, what do I know?

Time to go take a quick dip under and it's clear, feminine, green, half submerged gestures on the wire ticking "OK", opening in a "V", more structures that I can describe. Whichever way she goes, think of a blonde, something, somewhere under, not exactly a trip, scraping the typos away, can you tell? Busy with my characters, handling time, I'm in love for this girl, seriously! And can't even speak a good idea, just like everyone, I just want more time. But I don't know, I'm from Memphis, what do I expect, what do I know?

A scan of Sophia, I remember sketching for her, nail down a good geometry, fitting and folding, taping and learning, spiders, Bach, another turn and other feelings. This must be serious. I feel it. When I catch her walking in and hailing and spreading the noise, clothes, faces, then leaning down on the current framework, ain't she just right? I suck at these things, I guess I said that, I'm from Memphis, what do I expect?

Education, my family, the old tree in the old yard, does it matter? Now? I like to watch you dancing. I like that. I do not want to disturb you. Please continue. I want to just sit here and sip my JD and watch you. The skeletal complex moving in the pipeline. Hairs brushing and falling, improvising, a string of special strokes waiting. I'm in love with this girl and I suck.

If you ask your destination, a plan for the day, spaghetti for dinner, a walkabout on the shady side of the room, alone with magazines on a lounge, throwing confetti and laughing at the streets, when we walk, confused and can not speak. If I could trace and express but do I want to? I'm from Memphis, what do I want to know, what do I say?

Stand still, work the frame, leaving for a round of buses, planes, the cartoonish treatment. Ask you for postcards. Right out of St. Michel and along Left Bank the stands I caress, the tiny people exchanging and talking politics and the bookstore right on Deux Magot? I love my little Ukrainian girl and her list of things to do. I creep for her symmetry, easiness, and her being volatile. And I'll take care of her, I promise, when she comes back.

All of the money, that's how we do it, passing from her stopovers down to Chinasky and from there to Seoul and back to Djovkhar Ghaala, where our friends live. Easy. The Russians are still trying to hack it down. But they've got Chinasky down yesterday, she does not know and the guns are shining, quietly humming under. My cats keep me company, I won't miss her. When she comes back. My Ukrainian girl.

© Fortunato Caragliano

Posted by lck at 06:45 PM

July 16, 2005

Lindemans "Cawarra" Shiraz cabernet

Time: Typically hot sultry Sicilian night (The Best for Vinhos!, get it Vin-hos..oh never mind)
Place: The Terrazza
Accompaniments: Mixed greens with rucola, radicchio, romana, herbed Greek feta and a bit of tadziki (you know, the Greek sauce from Tadzikistan :-), grilled cow and aqua minerale liscia.

From Southeastern Australia to our grocer's doorstep. Picked up in the imports section of the wine aisle at the local supermarket earlier today after a day at the beach. First bottle was a rather forgettable Chilean merlot that does not warrant it's own entry. Second bottle opened as the half moon rose was a shiraz that claimed to be a cabernet. I know a Shiraz when I imbue one, and it isn't a cabernet. After first pour while waiting for the freshly released to breathe a glance at the label was in order.

The Lindemans Cawarra range, named after the original homestead of Dr. Henry Lindeman, is made with the modern lifestyle in mind.

Varietally expressive wines are crafted in an easy-drinking, contemporary style that deliviers maximum enjoyment in any social occasion.

While waiting for this to decant I had to wonder, who the hell says "varietally" or writes it on a wine lable expecting consumers to understand. Then, I understood, it was one of those words. I am still rather ambivalent about the "modern lifestyle" part unless it was referring to the horrid plastic cork producers have started to use. Does it refer to an alternative lifestyle? Modern meaning the URL is included? Who knows.

First impressions: Wham Bam I'm Shiraz Ma'am! Hear me roar. Immediately shadowed by the smoothest soothing cab you've ever had the pleasure to meet. Undeniable berry tones laugh and promise to be a fine balance to a well aged brie if not tuna steak. More please!

Last impressions: Damn, we should have gotten another bottle!

Cost: 3.50 euros
URL: www.lindemans.com.au, the cabernet (.pdf).

Posted by zib at 11:45 PM | Comments (2)

Who by wine... intro

[ed- This is a new column by Wendy a.k.a. "zib" and who could do it better? Her theory is best local grapes never get overseas and she may be right unless the times are 'a changing finally for good and as much as we dislike boundaries of any sorts expect the best we can hand our hands on and kiss the night away. Reviews are on their way. - lck]

In the medieval times there was the dreaded Punishment by Wine Funnel which oddly enough, I've paid for many times, though it was tequila, same concept.

In the past year the wine market here in Sicily (frankly can't speak for other bergs since we're not there but here) has seen a major influx of inexpensive imported wines. From the four corners baby! Most every one of those corners showing up but the States. Well okay, I confess, we have Sutter Homes lurking on the shelves in the "imports" section but Puhleeze we won't talk about them mkay? Good.

So we'll - okay I, with the concurrence of The Man (tha'd be lck) will be posting thoughts on the Vino of the Day, most likely a weekly thing unless it's vacation then maybe it will be of The Day. If you, gentile and or gentle readers have a wine you'd like to tell us about, feel free to hit the contact page and do so. On Who by Wine contributions: Please note: if you know what the hell you're talking about I don't want to hear it. I want the basics; Vino, Time (you were imbuing), Place (it's a known fact, location location location means something), Accompaniments (self explanatory), then Your Spiel about The Wine, where you picked it up and how much it cost in whatever currency you're familiar with) and producer/distrubutor's website if applicable. Yes, this means you may actually have to read the back label (sometimes those are rather amusing).

Yes, I abuse the ()s and capitalize randomly (to some). Bacchus forgives all (typos too).

Posted by zib at 10:22 PM | Comments (0)

The pink slip goes to...

In 2003, Karl Rove, White House deputy chief of staff, talked to Matthew Cooper, a Time magazine reporter about Valerie Plame, an undercover CIA officer and wife of Joseph Wilson, former U.S. Ambassador to Gabon. Apparently Rowe did not identify Plame by name. Cooper, on July of 2003, wrote a story in which he used Plame's name.

The story has been developing since then in the press, several courts and at every White House Press Gaggle and appears to be juicy enough for it alone to make Ken Follet and John Grisham busy for a while.

The whole affair, while stemming from a simple chain of events, implies the very serious matter of the leak of an undercover CIA officer to the press and has so many implications and potentials that only a few people have been able to cover the whole saga decently, but, regardless of where they stand, far from the truth.

Since the latest Grisham is a puff and you may want to skip it altogether and Follet may not be your style (is not mine) I suggest you to dip seriously into the Plame odyssey yourself. You need a few links (provided below), pen, paper and at least a Summary of these characters, which, with the help of the Seattle Times, I provide below.
May you find anything interesting or (god forbid) solve the case, let me know.
You may get a few thousands officers, lawyers and bloggers kissing your ass for the rest of your life and somebody may very well get the deserved "pink slip".

Who's who in case of the CIA leak

The main personalities in the CIA leak dispute:

Joseph Wilson: Former U.S. Ambassador to Gabon. Wilson was asked in 2002 by the CIA to check reports Iraq was trying to acquire uranium for nuclear weapons from Niger. He reported that the allegation was untrue, but President Bush repeated the allegation in his State of the Union speech in January 2003. That July, Wilson wrote "What I Didn't Find in Africa," which appeared in the New York Times.

Valerie Plame: Undercover CIA officer and wife of Wilson.

Robert Novak: Washington Post columnist. A week after Wilson's New York Times piece, Novak wrote in his column that part of the reason Wilson had been given the Niger mission was that his wife recommended him to her bosses at the CIA. It is a crime to reveal the name of an active CIA operative, but it is not known if Novak knew Plame was undercover. Critics of Bush say the White House leaked Plame's name in revenge for her husband's report.

President Bush: Promised in 2003 to fire anyone in his administration found to have been a leaker in the Plame case.

Patrick Fitzgerald: Special prosecutor.

Karl Rove: White House deputy chief of staff, senior political adviser to President Bush. Rove spoke with at least one reporter about Valerie Plame's role at the CIA before she was identified as a covert agent in a newspaper column two years ago, but Rove's lawyer said last week that his client did not identify her by name.

Matthew Cooper: Time magazine reporter. Newsweek reported this week that in 2003 Rove talked to Cooper about Plame but did not identify her by name. Cooper later wrote a story in which he used Plame's name. Cooper had a short conversation with Rove on July 11, 2003, three days before Novak exposed Plame in his column.

Cooper wrote one article raising questions about government officials trying to discredit Wilson behind the scenes. Cooper had indicated he would go to jail rather than expose a confidential source, but he agreed earlier this month to cooperate with the grand jury after getting clearance from his source to testify. (Rove's lawyer said Cooper had been clear to testify all along because Rove had signed a waiver about 18 months ago. The waiver was "reaffirmed" July 6, the day of a hearing to decide whether Cooper and a New York Times reporter would go to jail.)

Judith Miller: New York Times reporter. She was jailed for contempt of court for not cooperating with a federal investigation into who revealed Plame's identity. Miller did some reporting but never wrote a story and refused to identify her source.

Scott McClellan: White House spokesman. In 2003, he dismissed as "ridiculous" allegations that Rove was involved in leaking classified material, but McClellan has recently refused to discuss the case.

Compiled from reports by The Associated Press, The Washington Post and the British Broadcasting Corp.

Copyright © 2005 The Seattle Times Company

Sites covering the story in detail (in doubt search for "Plame"

Talking Points Memo (left-wing)

Little Green Footballs (right-wing)

FindLaw's (strictly technical)

Posted by lck at 08:55 PM | Comments (0)

Vacancy

va·can·cy (vā'kən-sē)
n., pl. -cies.

1. The condition of being vacant or unoccupied that seems so "inhuman" to many humans.
2. An empty or unoccupied space. (According to the Standard Model, still valid and accepted as the reference model to reality for a narrow range of "sampled conditions", an "empty" space is a non-sense)
3. A position, office, or place of accommodation that is unfilled or unoccupied.
4. Emptiness of mind, inanity, idleness, vacancy, vacation, happiness, fullness :-)
5. Physics. The tendency of a body to resist acceleration; the tendency of a body at rest to remain at rest or of a body in straight line motion to stay in motion in a straight line unless acted on by an outside force.

Posted by lck at 12:27 AM | Comments (0)

July 15, 2005

Olla Olla Ole'

I had to dig a bit for this ... shame on you Google, this did not make the Top Stories today.

Considering it comes just days after the tri-nitro-moka-device that made a "working-dog" confetti, that is Campingaz-based, apparently inspired by visionaries who watch too many Bunuel's movies without much care and that, finally, "it just works", the bill fits precisely and well into the Do It Yourself paragraph in the Book of Sublime, Senseless and Nostalgic Anarchism.

These devices don't look unfamiliar.

"Did you meet a moka walking down the alleys, today?",
"Sir, is that pot over there yours?"
"wait, you might just be right".

They are not even and certainly not yet consumer's icons, a trend that may eventually develop, see the Unabomber here in Italy, into exploding microwaves, vacuums and in other developments... do you have Parking Meters there? Watch Out!

What about the unforgettable, just taken out of today's El Pais: "La olla a presión estaba situada en el suelo, ante la entrada del concesionario de coches"? Unforgettably surreal, isn't it?

Estalla un artefacto en un concesionario de coches italiano en Barcelona

El ataque podría estar relacionado con la explosión el pasado martes de una cafetera bomba en el Instituto Italiano de Cultura atribuida a grupos anarquistas

EFE  -  El Prat de Llobregat

ELPAIS.es  -  España - 15-07-2005 - 09:57
 

Una olla a presión, con tres cartuchos de camping gas y una mecha pirotécnica, ha estallado hoy en la puerta de un concesionario de coches italiano de El Prat de Llobregat (Barcelona) sin causar heridos, han informado fuentes de la Jefatura Superior de Policía de Cataluña. El suceso podría estar relacionado con la explosión de otro artefacto esta misma semana frente al Instituto Italiano de Cultura de Barcelona, cuya autoría fue atribuida a grupos anarquistas italianos.

El suceso se registró sobre las 04.30 horas de la pasada madrugada en el número 11 de la calle Setembre de El Prat de Llobregat. La olla a presión estaba situada en el suelo, ante la entrada del concesionario de coches, según las citadas fuentes. La explosión ha afectado a la puerta de cristal del establecimiento así como a un vehículo estacionado cerca del mismo y al balcón del piso superior.

Los investigadores tratan ahora de establecer la autoría de este suceso, que podría estar relacionado con la explosión de una cafetera bomba que tuvo lugar el pasado martes a las puertas del Instituto Italiano de Cultura de Barcelona, en la que resultó herido un policía y murió un perro adiestrado para la detección de explosivos. La delegación del Gobierno en Cataluña atribuyó el ataque a grupos anarquistas italianos que protestan así por la detención de varios activistas en Italia.

La policía también estudia la posibilidad de que estos dos explosivos tengan que ver con la documentación en italiano para fabricar artefactos caseros así como temporizadores y otros artilugios encontrada la pasada semana en el interior de una maleta en el barrio barcelonés de Vallvidrera.

Posted by lck at 11:00 AM | Comments (0)

July 13, 2005

God's little toys

Confessions of a cut & paste artist
By William Gibson
Wired Magazine 13.07
All rights reserved.

When I was 13, in 1961, I surreptitiously purchased an anthology of Beat writing - sensing, correctly, that my mother wouldn't approve.

Immediately, and to my very great excitement, I discovered Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, and one William S. Burroughs - author of something called Naked Lunch, excerpted there in all its coruscating brilliance.

Burroughs was then as radical a literary man as the world had to offer, and in my opinion, he still holds the title. Nothing, in all my experience of literature since, has ever been quite as remarkable for me, and nothing has ever had as strong an effect on my sense of the sheer possibilities of writing.

Later, attempting to understand this impact, I discovered that Burroughs had incorporated snippets of other writers' texts into his work, an action I knew my teachers would have called plagiarism. Some of these borrowings had been lifted from American science fiction of the '40s and '50s, adding a secondary shock of recognition for me.

By then I knew that this "cut-up method," as Burroughs called it, was central to whatever it was he thought he was doing, and that he quite literally believed it to be akin to magic. When he wrote about his process, the hairs on my neck stood up, so palpable was the excitement. Experiments with audiotape inspired him in a similar vein: "God's little toy," his friend Brion Gysin called their reel-to-reel machine.

Sampling. Burroughs was interrogating the universe with scissors and a paste pot, and the least imitative of authors was no plagiarist at all.

Some 20 years later, when our paths finally crossed, I asked Burroughs whether he was writing on a computer yet. "What would I want a computer for?" he asked, with evident distaste. "I have a typewriter."

But I already knew that word processing was another of God's little toys, and that the scissors and paste pot were always there for me, on the desktop of my Apple IIc. Burroughs' methods, which had also worked for Picasso, Duchamp, and Godard, were built into the technology through which I now composed my own narratives. Everything I wrote, I believed instinctively, was to some extent collage. Meaning, ultimately, seemed a matter of adjacent data.

Thereafter, exploring possibilities of (so-called) cyberspace, I littered my narratives with references to one sort or another of collage: the AI in Count Zero that emulates Joseph Cornell, the assemblage environment constructed on the Bay Bridge in Virtual Light.

Meanwhile, in the early '70s in Jamaica, King Tubby and Lee "Scratch" Perry, great visionaries, were deconstructing recorded music. Using astonishingly primitive predigital hardware, they created what they called versions. The recombinant nature of their means of production quickly spread to DJs in New York and London.

Our culture no longer bothers to use words like appropriation or borrowing to describe those very activities. Today's audience isn't listening at all - it's participating. Indeed, audience is as antique a term as record, the one archaically passive, the other archaically physical. The record, not the remix, is the anomaly today. The remix is the very nature of the digital.

Today, an endless, recombinant, and fundamentally social process generates countless hours of creative product (another antique term?). To say that this poses a threat to the record industry is simply comic. The record industry, though it may not know it yet, has gone the way of the record. Instead, the recombinant (the bootleg, the remix, the mash-up) has become the characteristic pivot at the turn of our two centuries.

We live at a peculiar juncture, one in which the record (an object) and the recombinant (a process) still, however briefly, coexist. But there seems little doubt as to the direction things are going. The recombinant is manifest in forms as diverse as Alan Moore's graphic novel The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, machinima generated with game engines (Quake, Doom, Halo), the whole metastasized library of Dean Scream remixes, genre-warping fan fiction from the universes of Star Trek or Buffy or (more satisfying by far) both at once, the JarJar-less Phantom Edit (sound of an audience voting with its fingers), brand-hybrid athletic shoes, gleefully transgressive logo jumping, and products like Kubrick figures, those Japanese collectibles that slyly masquerade as soulless corporate units yet are rescued from anonymity by the application of a thoughtfully aggressive "custom" paint job.

We seldom legislate new technologies into being. They emerge, and we plunge with them into whatever vortices of change they generate. We legislate after the fact, in a perpetual game of catch-up, as best we can, while our new technologies redefine us - as surely and perhaps as terribly as we've been redefined by broadcast television.

"Who owns the words?" asked a disembodied but very persistent voice throughout much of Burroughs' work. Who does own them now? Who owns the music and the rest of our culture? We do. All of us.

Though not all of us know it - yet.

William Gibson's latest novel is Pattern Recognition.

Posted by lck at 07:36 PM | Comments (0)

July 12, 2005

(A better) Venetian Snares

Now updated with the excellent unedited transcript by Susanna Glaser, The Wire 254, April 2005. PDF available here.
[beware: explicit Aaron]

Rossz Csillag Allat Született is Aaron Funk's most ambitious work. An overall different feeling, maybe because of the Hungarian strings maybe the fact of Aaron have played violin on several tracks of the album. "Rossz Csillag Allat Született" is VS in a very mature, dramatic way, testing new environments and trying to stay away from the pitiful "breakcore". His music is way too solid and diversified to be labeled in one single style.

Posted by lck at 10:20 PM | Comments (0)

Tin Can from above

Bang on a Can Classics 2002 Canteloupe Music, (unlike all of Annie Gosfield, available on iTunes).
Performing the likes of Annie Gosfield, Evan Ziporyn, Lois Vierk, Nick Didkovsky and themselves, all in a tiny bright can of deep listening.

... co-artistic directors and founders, Wolfe, Lang and Gordon started Bang on a Can in 1987. Since that time they have presented more than one hundred and fifty musical events in New York City, ranging from a tribute to Morton Feldman to the only New York performances of Harry Partch's music on original instruments since Partch's death, to the commissioning and premiere of Bun-Ching Lam's Child God -- an opera accompanied by the Yueh Lun Shadow Puppet Theater, to the presentation of a "comic book opera" based on the cartoons and libretto of comic book artist Ben Katchor, to twelve Bang on a Can Marathons. They have founded an astonishingly successful chamber ensemble, the Bang on a Can All-Stars, and an orchestra, SPIT Orchestra.

For seven years, Gordon, Lang and Wolfe were solely responsible for all administration: producing concerts, producing records, presenting performers, designing and hosting residencies, commissioning, creating special projects, arranging tours, doing marketing and publicity and fundraising. During these seven years Bang on a Can grew from a one-day event on New York's Lower East Side to a year-round organization with a national and international reputation. Now with an office staff of four and major international partnerships, Bang on a Can has continued to grow as a major force in the presentation of new music, with multiple touring productions and a renowned house ensemble.

Having released seven recordings for CRI, Sony Classical, Point Music (Universal), and Nonesuch, Bang on a Can now releases the majority of its recordings on the record label also started by Gordon, Lang and Wolfe, with Bang on a Can Managing Director Kenny Savelson, Cantaloupe Music. And Bang on a Can refuses to sit still - with the All-Stars performing at the Sydney Olympics, the Brooklyn Academy of Music, and more. PLUS new multi-media performances such as the Carbon Copy Building, Shadow Bang, Lost Objects, and more. In 2002, they introduced a brand new program, the Summer Institute of Music, a new program for young composers and performers at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Arts, which had a tremendous first season.

Posted by lck at 08:59 PM | Comments (0)

Jonas Lund

More from Sweden. His Portfolio here.

Posted by lck at 05:04 PM | Comments (0)

Try whispering

Picking up a really old tune... The Least We Can Do Is Wave To H Other. The least that I can do now is to offer something for download. Click the banner for a JPEG or the individual links below for EPS, full PDF or JPEG. Next time, if you must, my friend, just whisper in my ear. Not as entertaining as detonating C4 but, by far, human, human, you hear me? We need that human smell again, big boy, not bombs.

EPS
Hi-Res PDF
Web Safe JPEG

Posted by lck at 04:03 PM | Comments (1)

July 10, 2005

Susanna Marchi

Top-of-the-Game-Photography.

Posted by lck at 08:13 PM | Comments (0)

July 09, 2005

I work for Google - dead engine

I work for Google and it feels fine. Yes, and no, I'm not a secretary, we have secretaries, I mean regular secretaries, I have three.

Worked for Google since 2002 and I'm in heuristics. Me and six like me, well, not quite exactly like me to be true, however, we supervise the Engine.

The Engine is the huge singing star ship in a sinking fleet, ya know, yep and kid, unofficially, don't put it down, remember your several NDAs and our lawyers, which you're going to see later on, those nasty eggballs are going to dig into your notes like drilling cheese. But now, for now, let's relax, talk to me all right?

Talking about The Engine. Our hero, our revenues generator, we all are grown-up hombres, profit not a bad word, we spell it upfront, do we?

We're in it for the money, no joke about it. Your competition out in the field, beat their prize, you're in heaven, from red to black, overnight, like that.
Sign here. Herr Gott, dich loben wir. Good Job! Easy, honest and objective. Danke.

That room there, that's the Engine, The other one is the Patching Bridge. The Bridge is an extension of our kernel and runs on top of it, dynamically over PageRank. From a sociological standpoint you can spell that a Reality Distortion Field. Between me and you, some of our biggest revenues funnel up from this single interaction. Microsoft sucks up our schema via MSN right out of the architecture and I tell you, the Monterey Jack we churn out of it, man! We are crawling on their backs like monkeys. Darwinism is darwinism, and faith and sip blood out of a juicy good dying carcass. What do you think? 10 more years riding a straw, good ole Mary Poppins.

Oh, but my secs, here they come. Aren't they cute? You like blondes? There you go, Avilina, New Mexico, the supreme Elvis aggregator, the living thing all the way to Twin Peaks and Mulholland Drive into contemporary movies Moguls. Ain't she nice? Solid, solid shaped ankles, large feet remind me of some smart-ass Norwegian viking and that heart-shaped ass is plain foolish. Yep, a nice living frame, don't you think?

Come cover me over kid, no, don't bother Ali, she's patching code right now but Christie is there, hanging the probe in mid-air, brain like parachuting down to earth, black-eyed and peel to caress her tail back like eyed-curtains, I told you, we have the best, profit is important, that's all it is about.

What do I do? Oh, man, piping orders from the blue letter and high-gears, obviously, top-clientsry chemistry, top-patching work, slight alterations in the pattern, anticipating some good prospects, precise trends pick-ups from our user's mail. How? You don't have Gmail? I'll drop you a few invitations. Actually, let me drop you a free pass for a 50 accounts batch, just imagine, drag it on to yer friends electric, please mention that in the interview. Gmail is an excellence tool, that's where we pick up the loose threads from and consolidate them into profitable prospected trends. We have an eye on, remember, I listen on the channel, don't you ever let me down, Jamie.

Here comes Kia, she's done and on her break, you can keep her company if you want, it's our duty to get distracted as often as we can. Ya know where inspiration is coming from. She's from Chicago but a ninja in her soul and dressed in a slightly aged Lara Croft suit with good rhymes. No swords but she can hurt you bad, kid, and see you later, she's glaring at you like neon lights at a singles bar in Alvin, TX. Your toothpaste, kids, have fun, come back with bright new hopes, emend the Kamasutra all the way down. Ya want maps? Try maps at google and pin down yer neighbors running the peep show in the backyard. Privacy what? Ehi, I was expecting you to be open minded! Geez! Mind is just too much of a valuable tool to waste in solitary masturbating, let's do it in the road, would ya? You're with the Beatles? But you didn't do Berkley, that's why I'm with the gray hipsters and you're not, right? See the factory, no, the hills up there, look, Sonora, Manteca, that's our database, we'll ride on later, kid, bowling session first, can you play? I'll introduce you to LeeAnne, our database Chief. She's a wacko, Amerindian. Can you beat her at Five Card Stud? I doubt it. But I'll risk my ass and leave ya under her watch for a while, do you mind, ehi, dude?

Frankie, what's up, freakie, you all right? She out with this Japanese transliteration, a new metric we are just rendering into the database, that scared you so? Why? Oh why?

Remember, our shares topped 296.23 today, that's 6 times AAPL before the split, 10 times MSFT current, what do you do with all that money? See, we are just scraping the notch, visit next year for some good adult entertainment.

Got new games to play with reality? What about an audience? We're going to portal when older, inevitably to disposable plugs near location and play Yahoo, delivered free to power outlets, a joke? Want to buy Sony? Apple? Play hardball with the deadheads? They're doing good on the Desktop mind-share and I have a red crew working on that and Steve reads our emails. No headaches and no condoms required.

Ain't it nice? Jamie, what do you think? You have kids, dear? Noo? Oh, man! Dude, what the fuck!

© Fortunato Caragliano

Posted by lck at 06:33 PM

July 07, 2005

Medium girl

Medium Girl. That's how she is going to call herself from today on and for a while... Melissa turned "5".
She believes the very moment she "turned 5" was when she shut the number-5-shaped candle. Before that she was just 4. Luckily she was so busy swapping clothes every some 20 minutes that only minimal time was left to her for makin' noise.

She's a planner, with a long anticipated carefully crafted list of things to do today and things for us to buy. Hot items this year were clothes-of-a-kind. We strived, apparently successfully, to match her expectations on items such as "a French pret-a-porter", "a Spanish skirt with the black fringe", etc... Local remainder's stands work miracles. Medium-sized girls wear medium-sized heeled shoes, we have got these for her too and initial reports sound positive, she is extremely comfortable on high heels, the Italian side of her, we argue. If you want to verify what a 5-years-old fashion designer (or fashion victim) sounds when she's 5 I'll set you an appointment.

Today's menu included fish, this year tuna steak. Wendy mastered this not-easy-to-cook piece with a vengeance, honoring American flexibility and cooking abilities once they turn civilized. Tuna is the basis for sushi and it surprises me that We-The-Locals prefer to ignore one of the many non-obvious uses of the most celebrated local fishing resources (at least historically). I warn you that freezing a bunch of tuna steaks (without separating them first) for longer that 8 hours leads to results on the catastrophic range. Be very mild with freezing fish stakes in general or you'll end up working a razor or scalpel just to separate the bloody mess. Hot water dips and/or microwave defrost won't save you from shame.

On her first birthday, sometime before September 11, when Americans were more happy and sociable, we had some 60 people in the house altogether drinking out of a strategically placed beer keg. And rapidly onto the second keg. I miss my cousin Simona and her beautifully peaceful eyes. She was not here today but we are still a wild bunch and the kid embraced another cousin's faith, Serena, a dancer in the Classic domain. She adores her (and desperately cries when she has to leave).

An appetizer of the size of the London attack was not expected and quite shocking and Wendy's email has been tickling every five minutes with American friends recalling the past Apocalypse in NYC. But International Terrorism is a patient beast as you can see from today's slaughtering and attacks at this location have been promised by OBL in person and forecasted by every and all analysts that I can recall (Peter Bergen, Adjunct Professor at the School of Advanced International Studies at Johns Hopkins University, CNN's terrorism analyst and author of Holy War, Inc. has been warning us for ages on this). Video and audio messages the West receives every other day from OBL and derivatives are not just generic threats, they all turn out to be circumstantiated promises.

I watched the first Tony Blair's address today several times and while I do not want to forget the innocent victims of this heinous, coordinated attack, I want to point at his master-level abilities as a speaker. Beyond today's circumstances and his true or not-so-true abilities as a politician the Blair's speech of today was a masterpiece.

UP: the English press for not showing body parts.
DOWN: Gianfranco Fini, the Italian Minister of Foreign Affairs for declaring "Gli obiettivi potenziali sono mille e c'e' un numero enorme di terroristi che possono essere arruolati" (potential targets are in the thousands and there's a huge number of terrorists that can be enrolled...) thus enabling the idea that attacks are inevitable and furthermore failing to do his job.
UP UP: Elizabeth Morrison (with a devious ally here at home) for using me as a model in the most recent issue of Knitty Magazine

Posted by lck at 09:24 PM | Comments (1)

July 05, 2005

A hand up, not a hand out

[ed- Wendy believes that helping Third World Countries is a) a process b) an investment for both parties involved c) not necessarily entirely peaceful and d) has to go thru an unavoidable colonialist-like phase. Here the plan goes: - lck]

As long as I can remember we're seen those commercials on TV asking for our money. Money to be sent to nations filled with big eyed starving children. Desolation via the airwaves, pleading for our help. In 2004 the US gave $1, 835 million in foreign aid to developing countries. . But will giving money help no matter how well apportioned?

Look at Table 1 mid way down the page here - here, you see the aid sent to 13 countries over a time period spanning from 1971 to 1994. For 13 countries, $3, 261,500,000 over 23 years. That is an awful lot of band aids and bowls of gruel and quite a retirement plan the despot leaders have racked up (see: Arafat). The children are still dying and now not only from starvation but from genocide and AIDs. Will simply giving these governments more money actually achieve anything or will they be back with their hands out next year?

Though a government in itself is not a profit organization, that is what it would take in this situation. Your people are dying and being massacred, you have your personal coffers stuffed to the brim and have decided it's time to hit the road. Instead of capitulating to your opponent, turn the country over to The Plan. Note: this is approved by present governing body before going into exile. This is not an "Iraq", this is not an "occupation" but may well be thought of as a "temporary colonialism with major perks". This is not a "genocide", this is not "slavery". This is business. With each side holding up it's end, it will work, in a perfect world, it would work, strike that, in a perfect world this wouldn't even be necessary.

The Plan: A blanket approach.

Countries XY & Z have more people than they know what to do with. Afflicted and starving. Countries AB & C have their share of afflicted and not quite starving but sure, they have hungry, homeless and people requiring medical aid but gee wiz, no money to make it happen, they are sending it to countries XY & Z. Yet, there are citizens of countries AB & C want said countries to provide the basic necessities of life: food, clothing & shelter to the populations of countries XY & Z. For free. Because AB & C "has more" than XY & Z.

Looking at history, before the revisionists change it, that is, we can see that Socialism has never worked. And it never will. Why would countries AB & C want to participate in a global form of it if it is proven to fail? So much money, you and I both know it's all about the money to be given to theocratic thugs with countless Swiss bank accounts? Investing in the retirement funds of said leaders (of their wives and children see: Arafat), is it really necessary? I don't think so. Why do it for free? We see it doesn't get anybody anywhere. Kids still die. Bad guys still kill everybody. The despots get wealthier.

But let's not discount this helping out thing altogether. Turning over control for said services is a possibility.

XY & Z and AB & C will enter into agreement. This is not "occupying" , look at it more as a very large national contract.

Government: Immediate deposing of current administration (that means all of 'em, remember they have already agreed to get out, this isn't over throwing anybody). Complete control of military implementing a COC with officers from AB & C. Secure all borders & infrastructure. Eradicate any and all roving bands of bad guys , face it, there are always assholes who don't like change. Implement constitution with a clearly defined separation of church and state (no subset of laws for persons of specific affiliations), granting freedom, equal rights and suffrage. Ethnic groups are not given "special rights", every person is treated as an individual. The UN, Geneva Convention and World Courts have absolutely no jurisdiction here, The Plan does, without security, both of borders and internal the rest of the plan will be null and void. Immediate utilization of existing military (and military/logistical support from AB & C for immediate distribution of relief (food, water & medical) and temporary housing.

Resources: R & D in country to survey all resources available. Best way to cleanly utilize said resources to be determined within a month. Local labor to be utilized to cull resources at the same time implementing renewal programs where applicable. All done while observing clean air/anti-pollution policies from the outset. Immediate improvements to infrastructure and communications systems. No use having resources that can not be utilized. Clearing of arable land for crops. Which segues into industry.

Industry: Export resources at fair market value. Do not accept pressure from related external cartels. First quarter profits being rolled back into the country's development, defence/security, infrastructure and educational foundations. As second quarter picks up, additional funds to permanent housing, local schools and dividends to countries AB & C to pay for the initial outlay. Successive quarterly profits to be dispersed similarly and into new sectors as needed.

Food: instead of pressure on the AB & C to subsidize their farmers so they could import genetically engineered food/grains from XY & Z. Instead, eet up XY & Z to grow the food for their own starving masses. Excesses to be exported m XY & Z to neighboring countries. Let AB & C feed their own, let their farmers go back to work. Where freshwater is not abundant set up aqueducts leading in from coastline. Major desalinization and solar power projects starting second quarter after infrastructures have been rendered efficient.

Medical: Immediate relief dispersal via military at outset. Construction of permanent clinics in country interiors with construction of fully equipped medical facilities to begin in second quarter. Medical students in capital to be sent to universities in AB & C to complete their education with the agreement that they return to XY & Z to serve the population. Interim: trained medical professionals to be sent from AB & C to XY & Z for the duration of Stabilization. Implement a population control method like that of G, birth control, vasectomies and education. Make the spread of AIDS a capital offense. Ease the suffering of those already infected, further education.

Education: Second quarter initialize program ensuring every area has primary education available to all including all applicable technology. Education students as with medical students, to be sent to AB & C to complete training.

Security: Zero tolerance for interference of neighboring countries wether it be a government operation or one simply originating from there. Zero tolerance for terrorism.

Once stabilization is achieved, further projects - specialized education, cultural (music & arts), wildlife and tourism, further investment and countless others to be picked up.

Control of country and resources to remain under AB & C for pre-defined time period (15 - 20 years). During that time XY & Z will have developed into a fully self-sufficient country with profitable exports. Able to provide food, shelter, medical and jobs for the population. Two years before final pull out of XY & Z elections will be held for government offices at national, state and local levels. Population of XY & Z will not hold citizenship of AB & C. Investors can opt to stay in XY & Z or accept buy out from newly formed government of XY & Z. Once pullout is complete, AB & C will have no further obligations to XY & Z nor remaining citizens or investors.

Just think. LoveMeBecauseICareConcerts will no longer be needed.

Looks easy on paper. Does it not.

Posted by zib at 06:15 PM | Comments (1)

July 04, 2005

Split Ends - dead engine

I was in astrology maybe I should not say, maybe I was in astronometrics and I was there and life goes on but I'm doing fine. I started to move my hands, my arms, and now I can sit up and breathe on my own. There is this odd device that they screw into the hole in my neck that is like a voice-box and allows me to talk a bit at a time.

Tan comes in and visits every day she can, when she's not out of town. She is only allowed to visit for an hour at each time. I feel an incredible sort of love for her. The hospital has become some weird peaceful second home to her. She said that the salad bar in the hospital is not bad... and sometimes at the counter the cook puts a plate of the leftover ends of sweet breads for passers-by to sample. Tan tries to entertain me by reading some of her favorite short stories really loud. Her hair is growing. She looks beautiful. This time she brought the recording of a new band she's promoting, to play for me on a disc-man and some huge headphones. There's a new song and a set of cover songs that she know I would love. She hello, we stare at each other for a while, and fall in love a little bit more, and play the songs and she weeps and I and then the time is over and a phone is ringing.

I've watched the hill get covered in snow a few times since I’ve been in here. There's this stark yellow carpet and the rehab stuff, piles that are accumulating on the floor and I wonder if they'll maybe go away magically.

Why did I not learn how to build bridges? Cometh, be afraid! My small-minded fantasies are driving up with a schedule that I don't even believe in. Zipping through the ward I have an angle into my life I never had before. Bed is near.

Frank brought out this large notebook and started to write, and gave me a nice marker and I got to draw on the other side, so I made some sketches and another picture which was a sort of globe with flowers sprouting out of it stretching to some unknowns. Frank admired them. I think he was very cold and a little bored. But I know these bulgy smooth hands, his wide veins crawling on a deep cover.

The twins returned to summer school as usual. Tan's left eye was swollen in the morning. Daddy told Tan to shed some tears to flush her tear ducts. She said Red hit her and made her cry in the afternoon. Tan said thanks to Red for hitting her. When daddy came home from work, the twins wanted to pick the plums from the tree in the front yard. The twins rode on daddy's shoulders to reach for the low hanging fruits. They picked about a dozen plums. The twins ate all of them after dinner. The twins asked when our neighbor would be home because they want to look for the frisbee in his backyard. Daddy suggested to them to write a letter and leave a phone number so that he could call back. The twins were enthusiastic. After daddy offered several hints, they finished their own sentences. They took turns to write one line each. They have written short notes to their friends before. But this one was their first letter with a purpose.

Doctor Dell came in in the morning. He checked me and said everything looked normal and that the most recent MRI showed no changes. He checked my legs for sensations with a paper-clip. He went up and down each leg poking me with the open end to see if I could feel anything and said something about swirling. I told him of itching and he promised to up my daily Exium to 300 mg. I also told him that last night I thought I saw him getting on his car and resting on the dashboard and that I could see him sneering and could not tell if he was sleeping at all or not. He scratched his nose and laughed and said that must have been Juan. I tried to laugh but ended up with a cough or a dry hacking sound from the Machine. He had me sit up and left, shaking my pinky as he usually does. I spent the rest of the day watching the cars moving in and out of the parking lot. Too fast a shadow against the glow of the unfinished Haven Dome at a distance and it's all right, only please come here cowboy, would ya?

Stevo came in today and he's winding me round the bends on my speed-chair all through the Center's neighborhood. He brought over a catalog of expensive Clarins beauty products. I laugh at Stevo pointing to what I want for my birthday. I will be 36 in two days. I haven't worn makeup in ages. He wears a blue t-shirt with a crescent moon and a star. After a few minutes, he coos about how good the botanically rich neighbors smell. "They relax me" I say. We're going to visit the Art Gallery, two blocks down from Dell's rehab place. Stev doesn't spend time in art galleries and museums. In fact, when asked which artists he admires, he stares blankly, shakes head and can't name a single one.

The place is tiny and incredibly packed with pop replicas, meteoric paintings, two large Bodell's and a generous assortment of Jessica Park's Pop Architectural. The bulky pale sales guy points at the latter right over my wheeled-movers with an hysterical "It's idiosyncratic and people love them" and continues "In fact, Park's sell as fast as she can make them. Many are snapped up by real estate moguls and Wall Street businesses. She works on commission, with a one-year backlog".

One of these paintings is a night scene, focusing on a black carriage-style lamp, filled with radiant multicolored light. Park apparently loves anything pertaining to the sky, be it clouds or shooting stars. Looking at the painting, it's easy to see that repetitive semicircular enchants her too.

It's summer afternoon, Stevo is eager to talk about food and I have a promise hanging to be back on time for my meds. Stev's phone rings and it's Tan calling from Winnipeg where she's touring her new band and a collateral circus of lawyers and falling equipment for the night show. "Is she there now?", "No, I just lost her", then I take it and kiss her through the mike and hail again. She's fine. "I have to go, we all have one big old lawyer-like party on the phone while the fate of my delicate little band and stupid songs for the next, oh, ten years or so, is decided" "Ehi, kid, be nice, take care, I'll be there for the party". Yeah, why not? Ehi, Steve, we're going to have a party right? When I'm older? He nods vigorously with his big red neck and shuts his eyes.

We're heading back, the tacos in a wrap, and as he rolls me back in kindly and quietly through the sliding doors the sun draws split ends on the verge.

© Fortunato Caragliano

Posted by lck at 09:31 PM

July 03, 2005

Oil Wars

Let's Stay Out Of This Fight

It's an incendiary mixture: China and oil. But Washington should stay out of the battle between Chevron and CNOOC for Unocal.

ROBERT J. SAMUELSON for Newsweek Business
July 11th, 2005

We cannot decide whether china is a threat or an opportunity, and until we do, every discussion of our relations seems to slide into confusion and acrimony. The latest example is the noisy controversy over the bid by CNOOC (the China National Offshore Oil Corp.) to buy the American oil company Unocal. There are some real issues here, but they're lost amid all the political clamor. We're being told (to cite one congressional resolution) that CNOOC's victory might "impair the national security" by jeopardizing "critical energy production capacity." The alarms sound plausible but are actually over the top.

Start with the basics. On April 4, directors of Unocal (2004 revenues: $8.2 billion) accepted an offer to be bought by Chevron (revenues: $151 billion). On June 22, CNOOC (revenues: $6.7 billion) made a counteroffer. Chevron's bid, consisting of 25 percent cash and 75 percent Chevron stock, is valued at roughly $16.5 billion; CNOOC's offer is $18.5 billion, all cash, financed partly by low-interest-rate loans from its state-owned parent company. Unocal shareholders are scheduled to vote on the Chevron proposal Aug. 10.

Even if CNOOC wins, there's no danger that much U.S. oil production would be siphoned off to China. Unocal's American production is tiny (57,000 barrels a day out of the total U.S. output of about 7.3 million barrels), and CNOOC pledges to keep it here. Nor is the United States being overwhelmed by Chinese investment. True, there have recently been some big transactions: the Chinese computer maker Lenovo's purchase of IBM's personal-computer business, and a proposal to buy Maytag by a consortium of the Haier Group, China's largest appliance maker, and several U.S. buyout firms. But China's overall presence is modest. In 2004, Chinese firms accounted for only $490 million of U.S. direct investment out of the total foreign direct investment of $1.5 trillion (that's foreign ownership of U.S. firms, factories and real estate). Meanwhile, U.S. multinationals have $2.1 trillion of foreign investment, including $15 billion in China.

Although President Bush could reject CNOOC's acquisition of Unocal on national-security grounds, it's hard to see a strong justification. "There's no national-security issue here—zero," says energy economist Philip Verleger. "Unocal doesn't have technology that needs to be kept secret."

Of course, oil could divide China and America. We may someday be competing for scarce supplies. After the United States and Japan, China is the world's third largest oil importer. Its demand could grow 60 percent by 2020, says the International Energy Agency. All that extra demand would probably have to be satisfied by imports. China's oil policy differs from America's, says Richard D'Amato, chairman of the congressionally created U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission. China wants to guarantee its future crude supplies through long-term contracts. American policy is for oil to go to the world market and be available to everyone. "If they continue demanding control of oil at the wellhead, it's a train wreck [for everyone] in the next 10 to 15 years," he says.

Maybe. But China faces huge obstacles, the largest being the opposition of oil-producing countries. "They want to be able to sell to all customers," says Verleger. China has secured some exclusive agreements, reports energy analyst Greg Priddy. In Sudan, a Chinese oil company is producing about 150,000 barrels a day. In Iran, China signed a contract to develop a field that might yield 300,000 barrels a day. Still, these amounts are small against the world's demand of 85 million barrels a day or China's demand of 7 million barrels a day.

Interestingly, however, CNOOC's bid for Unocal wouldn't much advance China's quest for secure energy supplies. CNOOC says it simply wants to expand its business. So it seems. Unocal's appeal is that it has large natural-gas and oil reserves in Asia; but most of the resulting production wouldn't go to China. Natural gas in Thailand and Bangladesh is contractually committed to local markets. Oil produced in the Caspian Sea by a consortium of 10 companies flows toward Europe by pipeline. After liquefaction, Indonesian natural gas might go China. So? The world has ample gas supplies. If Chevron wins, the gas might end up in the same place.

We shouldn't see demons where they aren't. This is mostly standard corporate combat: two suitors want the same trophy. Chevron is probably the favorite. CNOOC's advantage lies in its subsidized loans. But Chevron is bigger and can stir anti-Chinese political fervor. Let them fight it out—without Washington's interference.

How America and China construct their relations is one of today's great projects. We have many real issues with China: the undervalued yuan; possible military conflicts, notably over Taiwan; the nuclear status of North Korea; the potential economically destabilizing effects of huge trade imbalances (China's surpluses and America's deficits); China's compliance with global trade rules. We must defend our interests, but if we reflexively treat the Chinese as a threat, we will answer our own question: they will become a threat.

© 2005 Newsweek, Inc.

Posted by lck at 09:40 AM | Comments (0)

July 02, 2005

Admit One

While being music-wise mostly irrelevant as no new developments are to suddenly bloom out of nowhere, Live 8 is big as a promotion tool to few specialized firms and interest groups. When promotion gets tied to charitable and indeed good causes like the suppression of the foreign outstanding debt of African countries towards the G8 Group and the IMF, things start getting weird if not downright murky. Geldolf may have not been a better type when in Boomtown Rats or maybe yes, he was...

Some dudes sit on the very interesting position of promoting themselves by NOT BEING THERE. This is not new but interesting. What to make of Damon Albarn and "I don't want to take part in an event that is so exclusive. Is this the most effective way to help Africa?" He also says the lack of major black artists was "the greatest oversight" and undermined the whole project. Major discoveries.

And EBay U.K. banning the sale of tickets to the London Live 8 following pressure from Geldof and an online campaign to sabotage the auctions? "Tickets for the concert were a hot item on eBay until activists wrecked auctions and Geldof blasted ticket sales as profiteering from misery...Tickets were allocated Monday via an SMS lottery. More than 2 million text messages were entered, at a cost of 1.5 pounds ($2.70) each, to join the lottery for 133,000 tickets..." Geldolf said "What eBay is doing is profiteering on the backs of the impoverished, the people who are selling these tickets on websites are miserable wretches who are capitalising on people's misery. Initially, eBay had defended the sales and promised to donate listing fees from the ticket auctions to charity."

Hello? Was it not a concert? And is the foundation behind Live8, a group of banks, not going to profit from each and any transaction related to the grossing of the initiative? Can you even skip to charge for interest?

On another: Photographs of British Prime Minister Tony Blair and musician Bob Geldof, as well as model Claudia Schiffer and dozens of celebrities, show them all wearing wristbands. In England and Scotland, church towers and steeples are having white bands painted on them carrying the campaign slogan. It appears as if the whole world is being urged to protest low wages, globalization, world trade, debt repayment and any form of national defense. The United Nations, their bankers and brokers, together with Kofi Annan, the Strong family and the masses of the uninformed, were happy until we learned where, and at what cost, the wristbands, ordered by the million, were made: China.

It is disappointing to see Geldolf lending his name to a bit of poseur politics chiefly aimed at certain Western leaders who are blameless for Africa's current woes and severely constrained in their ability to do anything to alleviate them.

The issue in Africa in every one of its crises - from economic liberty to Aids - is government. Until the do-gooders get serious about that, their efforts will remain a silly distraction.

Please somebody tell me what Brad Pitt and Lara Croft are doing there!

Fortunato Caragliano, CT, IT, 2005, July 2nd, 2005

Posted by lck at 09:13 PM | Comments (0)

Adam Neate - Stay Home Paint

A collection of original paintings from London's foremost Contemporary Street Artist.

On Beautiful Crime

In recent years Adam Neate has gained notoriety for his unique street canvases, left to their fate in the streets of London. Stay Home Paint is Adam Neate's first major saleable Exhibition of his street canvases and a seminal event to mark the launch of Beautiful Crime.

A series of beautiful and warped pictures in paint and spray on heavy cardboard and canvas.

The Exhibition features 20 of 100 new works, please check out the catalogue at 'Art' for the full listing.

Posted by lck at 07:29 PM | Comments (0)

July 01, 2005

Anti girl?

Hey, girl, hope you'll recover soon. How can we not make you a guest at least for a day :-?
Lithograph sale, you're all invited to check them all out.

Posted by lck at 09:19 PM | Comments (0)