tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14521027520637077342024-03-21T15:59:37.620-07:00Gift HorsesKarley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comBlogger531125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-44671500718679597672019-10-11T18:01:00.000-07:002019-10-11T20:42:57.105-07:00Coming Home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6zoyV2MDTHKGoSfWJ9XdN107F5MWdHQvto9WxZ-qv7k8lBzDh5UeZlsNhYi0teeovsoOAgSLcE8l3PHDbxFBGL3hpn7OMAhQBAv08CkEmdpif2-SehCFqJWBqx0UsWl-oWBF_h_wE1il0/s1600/180755_499683830795_2375191_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="506" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6zoyV2MDTHKGoSfWJ9XdN107F5MWdHQvto9WxZ-qv7k8lBzDh5UeZlsNhYi0teeovsoOAgSLcE8l3PHDbxFBGL3hpn7OMAhQBAv08CkEmdpif2-SehCFqJWBqx0UsWl-oWBF_h_wE1il0/s320/180755_499683830795_2375191_n.jpg" width="224" /></a></div>
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10/10/2019 <a href="https://karleyquirk.blogspot.com/">Gift Horses</a></div>
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I'm wondering if I write more fluidly, frankly, and quickly typing than by hand. The last few weeks, it's been difficult to keep up with my sketchbooks as they devolve into lists of things to do each day. Likely most days (for now, while I can tolerate it) will remain that way, but for today and always here, I write for myself and for the random invisible other than may encounter these notes. Is there such a thing as privacy for an artist? Even as an introvert, perhaps especially as an introvert, I want people to read me - just not too many people, and I'd rather not ask for attention. In a world full of often necessarily squeaky wheels, that's a good way to disappear completely. My inclinations - whether born of nature or nurture - need not remain the habits that assist in my successful disappearance. I do want to be seen but also do not want to disappear. Hence, Gift Horses not be looked in the mouth.</div>
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I came home about 45 min ago. A golden mid-twenties fellow with a pained look, gauged ears and beautiful eyebrows has been working on his car in front of my house for about a week now. I write this not because it bothers me, but because it doesn't. </div>
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“Is it the eyebrows?”, my inner critic asks. </div>
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I answer back definitively, “at this moment, who fucking cares?”. The beauty of youth deserves consideration just as the accumulated knowledge of age does. </div>
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Al-anon says to do someone a good turn and not get found out is goodness. Well, few visit this website of mine, and being empathetic isn't a "good turn", it's being a good neighbor. He certainly acted as if it were my street and how kind of me to not care that his vehicle, indeed ugly and jacked up as it is, hadn't moved in a week. It's not my street, it's the public's street. It's OUR street, if his car is broken down and needs a week to be fixed affordably than I'm not going to be an asshole about it. In fact, it made my day for him to smile and respond in English (which we share). Previously, when I've spoken to him in our shared tongue, he has simply not responded. I have greeted his children in Spanish, their first language, but do not have the skills in Spanish to address a stressed out adult.</div>
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As I waved hello and wished his repairing well again, my memories of being one of those kids on the sidewalk while a car is being repaired, and of being the young adult overburdened with responsibilities suddenly compounded with a vehicle repair, came flooding back. I too have been inordinately grateful for not being kicked while down, and hope that he returns the favor next time he identifies with someone having trouble. The world appears to be falling into quite a state of flags being staked and I'm not into it. This land is our land and I'll consider public space as such and treat people accordingly.</div>
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The car has just roared off and already I miss the sound of his children playing in front of the house. His smile may have been just as much about seeing the end of the job approaching as it was my kindness. That thought also makes me smile while observing my own human hubris. Today, I pulled an image of myself at about 6 years old from facebook and posted it on my instagram account with the caption "me, remembering to be kind to myself" It's true, I forget that the little person in that photo, barefoot and clutching a raccoon doll in an orchard that would soon be cut down, is still inside of me. She deserves the same love and attention that I give to others.</div>
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I see the warmth of my father's thumb covering the upper right of the lens while noticing how he cut off my feet. I remember that photo being taken. I didn't trust him, and still jump to the conclusion that he was likely high when this photo was taken. But, no longer do I ignore the fact that he wanted a photo of me, implored me to stay, to stand still for a second in that retrospectively gorgeous summer afternoon. I see how he looks at my much younger brother now, and the intense mixture of discomfort and love that I see in his face no longer signals that he's unable to keep me safe like I wish my father would. It means he loves even though it’s strange. That is not his fault nor is it mine. </div>
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The one time that I can remember my father saying I love you (at some point in my mid-twenties), no longer feels like not enough. I have this loving photograph, with his warm thumb in the corner, and a look on my face that mirrors his.</div>
<br />Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-71460724934952098642016-07-11T20:35:00.001-07:002016-07-11T20:35:30.787-07:00<a href="http://www.botzilla.com/blog/archives/000544.html">PRINTING DIGITAL NEGATIVES FOR SILVER PLATNUM DARKROOM PRINTING</a><br />
ChartThrobKarley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-22439598513388884452015-04-04T17:04:00.001-07:002015-04-04T17:04:10.049-07:00<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vasquez_Rocks">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vasquez_Rocks</a><br />Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-13951701869229496352015-04-03T13:27:00.001-07:002015-04-03T13:27:03.172-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://anthropologicalmaterialism.hypotheses.org/611">Eight Thesis on Phantasmagoria</a></div>
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<a href="http://anthropologicalmaterialism.hypotheses.org/715"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="http://anthropologicalmaterialism.hypotheses.org/715">Ten Comments of Eight Thesis on Phantasmagoria</a></div>
Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-31293571564778691782015-03-28T21:37:00.001-07:002015-03-28T21:37:32.028-07:00<a href="https://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/w/woolf/virginia/w91w/complete.html">VIrgina Woolf, The Waves. Complete text</a>Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-73178541100562970222015-02-27T17:38:00.001-08:002015-02-27T17:43:21.011-08:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://www.humanities.uci.edu/critical/Cesaire_Discourse_Colonialism_JPrev.pdf">Discourses on Colonialism, Aimé Césaire</a></div>
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<i>"My turn to state an equation: colonization = thingification".</i></div>
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<i>pg. 40</i></div>
Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-31809052234713385792015-01-30T13:18:00.001-08:002015-01-30T13:18:47.982-08:00<a href="http://www.ubu.com/film/gmc_food.html">http://www.ubu.com/film/gmc_food.html</a><br />
Gordon Matta Clark filmed as <i>Food </i>by Robert Frank and moreKarley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-15346946839488857602015-01-30T12:14:00.002-08:002015-01-30T18:14:45.428-08:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJfbl816rsBmb4Z1WnS4qbdh1p9G8KijWXgoj8vuu3cpKxcDhTxVO9zlLNpWjtvIQSMArrg2uTmqgxPCTr3EPTWXwsgV0wV2xrPh-bPYVQIU8J8SY8HpJJPr_MOwIDZBuiwJITsSlyrhQ/s1600/50+SPLIT+IMAGESonline+use.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJfbl816rsBmb4Z1WnS4qbdh1p9G8KijWXgoj8vuu3cpKxcDhTxVO9zlLNpWjtvIQSMArrg2uTmqgxPCTr3EPTWXwsgV0wV2xrPh-bPYVQIU8J8SY8HpJJPr_MOwIDZBuiwJITsSlyrhQ/s1600/50+SPLIT+IMAGESonline+use.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Split Images 2013-Present</i><br />
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reading Beatriz Colomina, looking at Gordon Matta Clark,<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.8000001907349px;">crack.cracks</span><br />
<br />
"These are drawings of neither the inside or the outside but the membrane between them".<br />
-Beatriz Colomina, <i>Sexuality and Space</i>, p.94</td></tr>
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<br />Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-759567857049963032014-11-23T17:17:00.002-08:002014-11-23T17:17:42.763-08:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-GJbp0fUcmE5emp524molXaUFlsZmVUDmwYv10DOmKa2ABrx5zXWKP2y2Hv28puDYnn2OkV1YjaRjq5j42Afv5ffwYvT7Yvej_JXhIACBJqXvCNWw4mudCRahBh1BE8JLOrB6p34IlVa/s1600/repulsion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-GJbp0fUcmE5emp524molXaUFlsZmVUDmwYv10DOmKa2ABrx5zXWKP2y2Hv28puDYnn2OkV1YjaRjq5j42Afv5ffwYvT7Yvej_JXhIACBJqXvCNWw4mudCRahBh1BE8JLOrB6p34IlVa/s1600/repulsion.jpg" height="160" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Repulsion Trailer for Heroic Distortions Exhibition, 2014<br />Who is looking?</td></tr>
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<br />Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-1762315310611919112014-10-10T20:51:00.000-07:002014-10-16T12:46:55.684-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
San Francisco orchids and vases seen </div>
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through windows and</div>
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from the street.</div>
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Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-26207361862657387662014-10-10T20:02:00.001-07:002014-11-20T11:45:20.375-08:00<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<span style="font-size: 13px;">Gestures from Billy Woodberry's film </span></div>
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<i style="font-size: 13px;">Bless Their Little Hearts</i><span style="font-size: 13px;">. </span></div>
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<br />Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-31009629616364888932014-09-30T18:04:00.003-07:002014-09-30T18:04:39.263-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://history-world.org/The_Metamorphosis_T.pdf">Kafka, Metamorphosis</a></div>
Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-20135756591512347652014-09-21T16:10:00.002-07:002014-09-23T23:33:12.244-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://nicholasmirzoeff.com/RTL/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/RTL-from-CI.pdf">Nicholas Mirzoeff</a></div>
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<a href="http://nicholasmirzoeff.com/RTL/wp-content/uploads/2011/06/RTL-from-CI.pdf">Right to Look</a><span id="goog_919826894"></span><span id="goog_919826895"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a></div>
Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-65386206931329089712014-09-21T13:39:00.002-07:002014-09-21T13:39:44.073-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.culturemachine.net/index.php/cm/issue/view/22">Creative Media, links to PDF's</a></div>
Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-90169846623615252372014-09-21T12:09:00.004-07:002014-09-21T13:35:21.853-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amielandmelburn.org.uk/collections/newformations/08_131.pdf">Felix Guattari</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.amielandmelburn.org.uk/collections/newformations/08_131.pdf">THE THREE ECOLOGIES</a><br />
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Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-1337458992599186542014-09-09T13:26:00.002-07:002014-09-09T13:26:44.191-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
TUMBLR: <a href="http://flanneryogonner.tumblr.com/post/40237682151/free-pdf-books-on-race-gender-sexuality-class-and">Free PDF books on race, gender, sexuality, class, and culture</a></div>
Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-82538736397733176252014-08-30T11:05:00.002-07:002014-08-30T11:05:26.787-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks03/0301251h.html">Virginia Woolf, The Common Reader</a></div>
Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-23681955719675835162014-08-28T15:00:00.002-07:002014-09-21T13:38:07.347-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://tsruminations.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/dg-ch10-becoming1.pdf">1730: Becoming - Intense, Becoming - Animal, Becoming - Imperceptible. </a><br />
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<a href="http://tsruminations.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/dg-ch10-becoming1.pdf">Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari</a><br />
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From the Abecedary. D for desire.</div>
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Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-17606438379425166372014-08-27T23:02:00.000-07:002014-08-28T16:05:43.663-07:00<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.personalstructures.org/index.php?page=404&lang=en&item=443&n=3">Max Cole</a> Interview<br />
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KDJ: <i>You have mentioned your works as a search for essence. What is this essence? How does your understanding of essence relate to time, space, or existence? Have you noticed any difference or changes in your search for and understanding of essence over the years?</i><br />
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MC: Essence is the transcendent quality of life and it is the ultimate mystery. Glimpses of it exist when a painting lives and it is the quality that I have spent my life continually searching for. I don't believe that it is necessary to understand or quantify it. The search is enough.<br />
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Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-91392761617463401892014-08-23T12:29:00.001-07:002014-08-27T11:26:39.178-07:00<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43409/43409-h/43409-h.htm">Tolstoy, What is Art</a><br />
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Very clear, written from a masculine, socialist perspective. <br />
Quite upright, with some good points.<br />
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"<span style="text-align: justify;">Art is not, as the metaphysicians say, the manifestation of some mysterious Idea of beauty, or God; it is not, as the æsthetical physiologists say, a game in which man lets off his excess of stored-up energy; it is not the expression of man's emotions by external signs; it is not the production of pleasing objects; and, above all, it is not pleasure; but it is a means of union among (hu)men :P, joining them together in the same feelings, and indispensable for the life and progress toward well-being of individuals and of humanity." -pg. 388</span><br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">"</span><span style="text-align: justify;">Evidently the Greek sages began to draw near to that perception of goodness which is expressed in Buddhism and in Christianity, and they got entangled in defining the relation between goodness and beauty. Plato's reasonings about beauty and goodness are full of contradictions. And it was just this confusion of ideas that those Europeans of a later age, who had lost all faith, tried to elevate into a law. They tried to prove that this union of beauty and goodness is inherent in the very essence of things; that beauty and goodness must coincide; and that the word and conception καλο-κἀγαθία (which had a meaning for Greeks, but has none at all for Christians) represents the highest ideal of humanity. On this misunderstanding the new science of æsthetics was</span><br />
<span class="pagenum" style="font-size: smaller; left: 772.799987792969px; position: absolute; text-align: right;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="Page_398" name="Page_398">[398]</a></span><span style="text-align: justify;"> built up. And, to justify its existence, the teachings of the ancients on art were so twisted as to make it appear that this invented science of æsthetics had existed among the Greeks." - pg. 398</span><br />
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Æsthetic theories arose about one hundred and fifty years ago among the wealthy classes of the Christian European world, and arose simultaneously among different nations,—German, Italian, Dutch, French, and English. The founder and organizer of it, who gave it a scientific, theoretic form, was Baumgarten.</div>
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With a characteristically German, external exactitude, pedantry, and symmetry, he devised and expounded this extraordinary theory. And, notwithstanding its obvious insolidity, nobody else's theory so pleased the cultured crowd, or was accepted so readily and with such an absence of criticism. It so suited the people of the upper classes, that to this day, notwithstanding its entirely fantastic character and the arbitrary nature of its assertions, it is repeated by learned and unlearned as though it were something indubitable and self-evident." - pg 400</div>
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"And the consequence of this absence of true art showed itself, inevitably, in the corruption of that class which nourished itself on the false art. All the confused, unintelligible theories of art, all the false and contradictory judgments on art, and particularly the self-confident stagnation of our art in its false path, all arise from the assertion, which has come into common use and is accepted as an unquestioned truth, but is yet amazingly and palpably false, the assertion, namely, that the art of our upper classes<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="FNanchor_100_100" name="FNanchor_100_100"></a><a class="fnanchor" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/43409/43409-h/43409-h.htm#Footnote_100_100" style="font-size: 8.80000019073486px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: super;">[100]</a> is the whole of art, the true, the only, the universal art. And although this assertion (which is precisely similar to the assertion made by religious people of the various Churches who consider that theirs is the only true religion) is quite arbitrary</div>
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<span class="pagenum" style="font-size: smaller; left: 772.799987792969px; position: absolute; text-align: right;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" id="Page_403" name="Page_403">[403]</a></span>and obviously unjust, yet it is calmly repeated by all the people of our circle with full faith in its infallibility.</div>
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The art we have is the whole of art, the real, the only art, and yet two-thirds of the human race (all the peoples of Asia and Africa) live and die knowing nothing of this sole and supreme art. And even in our Christian society hardly one per cent of the people make use of this art which we speak of as being the<i>whole</i> of art; the remaining ninety-nine per cent live and die, generation after generation, crushed by toil, and never tasting this art, which, moreover, is of such a nature that, if they could get it, they would not understand anything of it. We, according to the current æsthetic theory, acknowledge art as one of the highest manifestations of the Idea, God, Beauty, or as the highest spiritual enjoyment; furthermore, we hold that all people have equal rights, if not to material, at any rate to spiritual well-being; and yet ninety-nine per cent of our European population live and die, generation after generation, crushed by toil, much of which toil is necessary for the production of our art which they never use, and we, nevertheless, calmly assert that the art which we produce is the real, true, only art—all of art!" - pg 403<br />
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"Moreover, it cannot be said that the majority of people lack the taste to esteem the highest works of art. The majority always have understood, and still understand, what we also recognize as being the very best art: the epic of Genesis, the gospel parables, folk-legends, fairy-tales, and folk-songs, are understood by all. How can it be that the majority has suddenly lost its capacity to understand what is high in our art?" -433<br />
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"But an artistic impression, <i>i.e.</i> infection, is only received when an author has, in the manner peculiar to himself, experienced the feeling which he transmits, and not when he passes on another man's feeling previously transmitted to him. " -438<br />
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<a href="http://fuckyeahcharlesbaudelaire.tumblr.com/">FUCK YEAH, BAUDELAIRE</a> (the perverse cloud speaks)<br />
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I must note that unintelligibility has its merits...</div>
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Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-85574080947183585842014-07-24T16:28:00.000-07:002014-07-24T16:28:28.492-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-91859395898441140212014-07-19T07:09:00.001-07:002014-07-21T09:49:39.094-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHBabaOtP6_L2YEc-Nm04G4OpRMc5QzYn4nxoWu5bStpWU0WwolmfNuqWrfSSt0IgNPHWPMWRDcrHXmDGk8QWTDfid1T-BKj5o9wSg3LZHG1oBukq4jS9lVzS9HNrbchEpasuqfHCok8P/s1600/horse.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHBabaOtP6_L2YEc-Nm04G4OpRMc5QzYn4nxoWu5bStpWU0WwolmfNuqWrfSSt0IgNPHWPMWRDcrHXmDGk8QWTDfid1T-BKj5o9wSg3LZHG1oBukq4jS9lVzS9HNrbchEpasuqfHCok8P/s1600/horse.jpeg" /></a></div>
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I dream of hotel rooms the last two nights, and not nice luxurious ones. The dream I just woke from was a hiding dream. After being inexorably chased through a warehouse that rested low on an ocean's tossing and dirtied shoulder, an industrial space that I knew to be adjacent to a hospital (the knowledge of the sick slowing my flight), I arrived back at the hotel room. The room was reached through a hallway - with a high horizontal window on the back wall. When I began waking, I realized that I was sleeping between the window and the curtain to evade detection and enable quick escape should the room be entered through the hallway door. But, with retrospect, maybe I slept there for the view.Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-77513459180963775202014-07-18T17:32:00.001-07:002014-07-18T17:32:03.851-07:00<a href="http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/joshuarothman/2014/07/virginia-woolf-idea-of-privacy.html">http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/joshuarothman/2014/07/virginia-woolf-idea-of-privacy.html</a>Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-31549931946610149552014-07-16T08:08:00.001-07:002014-07-16T08:08:14.974-07:00<a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/07/15/environmental-art_n_5585288.html?utm_hp_ref=arts&ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000027">http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/07/15/environmental-art_n_5585288.html?utm_hp_ref=arts&ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000027</a>Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1452102752063707734.post-54070659996830425492014-07-14T16:49:00.001-07:002014-07-14T16:49:36.490-07:00<a href="http://www.time-and-space.tv/contributors/carlo-van-de-roer/post/unmoored">http://www.time-and-space.tv/contributors/carlo-van-de-roer/post/unmoored</a><br />
<br />Karley Sullivanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09500021923944979454noreply@blogger.com