saidtotheuniverse

[saidtotheuniverse]

Margaret Atwood, from November in “Selected Poems I: 1965-1975″

[saidtotheuniverse]

Agnes Martin, Untitled #2, 1992. Exhibited in "Agnes Martin" at Guggenheim Museum, New York.

From Agnes Martin on Resisting the Urge to Be Alone by Alexxa Gotthardt, July 16, 2019, on Artsy

[saidtotheuniverse]

A poem, an exercise in omitting letters.

by Thomas Penny

[saidtotheuniverse]

Fred Tomaselli, “Car Bomb” (2008), photocollage, acrylic, resin on wood panel
, 60 x 60 inches

“I think what great art does is it makes you pay attention. I remember when I first came to New York, I felt like I was seeing it through a scrim of Robert Rauschenberg combines. I looked at the decrepitude, the old peeling signage, and the garbage in the street in Lower Manhattan. What might have been dismissed as decayed, became really beautiful: because I was seeing it through his work. Artists can help you re-see the world.”

from Beer with a Painter: Fred Tomaselli interview with Jennifer Samet for Hyperallergic

[saidtotheuniverse]

Francis Towne, Pistyll Rhaeadr, 1777.  Pencil, pen and black ink, watercolour. Yale Center for British Art B1981.25.2703.

From A Catalogue Raisonné of Francis Towne (1739-1816) by Richard Stephens.

[saidtotheuniverse]

What Women Are Made Of

BY BIANCA LYNNE SPRIGGS

There are many kinds of open.

— Audre Lorde

We are all ventricle, spine, lung, larynx, and gut.

Clavicle and nape, what lies forked in an open palm;

we are follicle and temple. We are ankle, arch,

sole. Pore and rib, pelvis and root

and tongue. We are wishbone and gland and molar

and lobe. We are hippocampus and exposed nerve

and cornea. Areola, pigment, melanin, and nails.

Varicose. Cellulite. Divining rod. Sinew and tissue,

saliva and silt. We are blood and salt, clay and aquifer.

We are breath and flame and stratosphere. Palimpsest

and bibelot and cloisonné fine lines. Marigold, hydrangea,

and dimple. Nightlight, satellite, and stubble. We are

pinnacle, plummet, dark circles, and dark matter.

A constellation of freckles and specters and miracles

and lashes. Both bent and erect, we are all give

and give back. We are volta and girder. Make an incision

in our nectary and Painted Ladies sail forth, riding the back

of a warm wind, plumed with love and things like love.

Crack us down to the marrow, and you may find us full

of cicada husks and sand dollars and salted maple taffy

weary of welding together our daydreams. All sweet tea,

razor blades, carbon, and patchwork quilts of Good God!

and Lord have mercy! Our hands remember how to turn

the earth before we do. Our intestinal fortitude? Cumulonimbus

streaked with saffron light. Our foundation? Not in our limbs

or hips; this comes first as an amen, a hallelujah, a suckling,

swaddled psalm sung at the cosmos’s breast. You want to

know what women are made of? Open wide and find out.

Source: Poetry (April 2018)

[saidtotheuniverse]

Neuromancer in DOSBox, Timothy Leary papers, Neuromancer, Development Disks, New York Public Library

[saidtotheuniverse]

[saidtotheuniverse]

This Work Never Ends - Jenny Hart, 2002 hand embroidery on salvaged cotton 

[saidtotheuniverse]

Catherine Murphy, “Stacked” (2017), oil on canvas 60 x 60 inches

[saidtotheuniverse]

Michelangelo Buonarroti (Italian, 1475–1564). Study of the Torso of a Male Nude Seen from the Back. Black chalk, with lead-white gouache highlights. Albertina, Vienna (123)

Currently in the exhibition Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman and Designer, on view at The Met Fifth Avenue from November 13, 2017 through February 12, 2018.

[saidtotheuniverse]

Beryl Korot, Text and Commentary (detail), 1976–77, weavings, drawings, five-channel video (black-and-white, sound, 30 minutes). Installation view.

“1974 was a pivotal year for me. I found myself working in three communications media at the same time: in print... in video, and at the loom. It was a revelation to me that all three encode and decode information in lines...”

Text and Commentary is inspired by the Jacquard loom and how it impacted engineer Charles Babbage’s invention of the punch card. It was originally exhibited at Leo Castelli Gallery in 1977, and is currently on view in the exhibition Thinking Machines: Art and Design in the Computer Age, 1959–1989 at MoMA.

[saidtotheuniverse]

Zsofia Schweger, Library 3, 2017. 

Acrylic on Canvas. 59 × 51 in (149.9 × 129.5 cm). Exhibited as part of Cataloguing Time at Sapar Contemporary, reviewed by Seph Rodney for Hyperallergic. 

The house was quiet and the world was calm. The reader became the book; and summer night Was like the conscious being of the book. The house was quiet and the world was calm. The words were spoken as if there was no book, Except that the reader leaned above the page, Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom The summer night is like a perfection of thought. The house was quiet because it had to be. The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind: The access of perfection to the page. And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world, In which there is no other meaning, itself Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself Is the reader leaning late and reading there. Wallace Stevens, "The House Was Quiet and the World Was Calm" from The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens, 1954  

[saidtotheuniverse]

“Bitrot-porn of the day: 4.5 GB DVD contains a 15 MB block of unreadable sectors, which is located right in the middle of this TIFF image's bytestream”

via Johan van der Knijff‏ (Twitter: @bitsgalore)

[saidtotheuniverse]

Ruth Asawa at David Zwirner

[saidtotheuniverse]

Valerie Hammond, "Blue Anemone” (2011). Relief printed lithograph on kozo paper. Sheet: 72 13/16 x 49 3/16 in. (185 x 125 cm)

In The Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints and Photographs: Print Collection, The New York Public Library. Image retrieved from The New York Public Library Digital Collections. 

[saidtotheuniverse]

Anselm Kiefer, “Morgenthau Plan” (2012), acrylic, emulsion, oil, and shellac on photograph mounted on canvas, 113 x 149 5/8 inches (© Anselm Kiefer, courtesy Gagosian Gallery, photography by Charles Duprat)