Sunday, August 10, 2008

no other print

My plaid, says Edith instinctively to Jenny. Isn't young Milnewood's head covered too? Hoodie up, hoodie over. Shame, intrigue, cycling in the rain. Dignity in orange silk, black pennons, name of your own choice, product withholding production: art.

a herring gull went up in the breeze, something carelessly flipflopped from its beak onto the shingle, go and pick it up, don't drop it this time! and up flapping awkwardly on the breeze, NO. You've dropped it again. What's the matter with you. Back down pick it up this isn't rocket science. Oh. It's smashing a mussel. Out comes the chewing gum meat.

I couldn't help remembering the poor slug I trod on, carrying the chest of drawers. One moment long and elegant steaming forth with his strong brown horns and little black tail-shell; then down comes clumsy oaf and all his skin flies off him like an exploding banana and only a trail of glistening innards is left for the others to maunder over.

A gesture becomes art when a certain accumulation of skill or labour distinguishes it. When you observe the product but do not altogether comprehend some feature of the production, the artefact now conceals something. That is why a child hides the execution of her drawing until it is finished. The concealment has a potency. The maker controls the point of view, places limits on it. The maker cannot experience the artefact's concealment, so doesn't know directly what value it may have for its observers. The observer tries to penetrate the concealment, though this cannot be done. So from both sides of the concealing object the hands reach out for each other. In their effort to touch, because it fails, art is liberated. (Rolf Hansson)

Sea rocket (Cakile maritima) and saltwort (Salsola kali) - the limit of plant-life along the drift-line.


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