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Lorna Mills and Sally McKay
Digital Media Tree this blog's archive OVVLvverk Lorna Mills: Artworks / Persona Volare / contact Sally McKay: GIFS / cv and contact |
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| Come to the uTOpia book launch on Sunday! (venue: Gladstone, publisher: Coach House) The book is a groovy big anthology all about Toronto. I wrote about Fly gallery, because I find them inspiring. There are gonna be panels and activities at the launch! I'm on a panel at 3:00 with Bert Archer and Sheila Heti, moderated by Misha Glouberman. Our topic is Private Space. I'm also going to be hosting an activity booth where you get to consign your least favourite things about Toronto to the buring pit of hell. I've constructed an extremely classy and operational burning pit, but you'll have to come to the event to get a look at it. In the meantime, here are a couple of dYStopic burning pit images that I found with Google Images. All the details about the event and the book are here. | |
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Regular guest poster L.M. is on a much deserved break. Thank you, L.M.!! (when you come back we wanna hear your thoughts on France)
 | temporary chair "the event is unattainable..." |
"We feel in wartime comradeship. We confuse this with friendship, with love. There are those who will insist that the comradeship of war is love—the exotic glow that makes us in war feel as one people, one entity, is real, but this is part of war's intoxication. Think back on the days after the attacks on 9-11. Suddenly we no longer felt alone; we connected with strangers, even with people we did not like. We felt we belonged, that we were somehow wrapped in the embrace of the nation, the community; in short, we no longer felt alienated. As this feeling dissipated in the weeks after the attack, there was a kind of nostalgia for its warm glow and wartime always brings with it this comradeship, which is the opposite of friendship.
Friends are predetermined; friendship takes place between men and women who possess an intellectual and emotional affinity for each other. But comradeship—that ecstatic bliss that comes with belonging to the crowd in wartime—is within our reach. We can all have comrades. The danger of the external threat that comes when we have an enemy does not create friendship; it creates comradeship. And those in wartime are deceived about what they are undergoing. And this is why once the threat is over, once war ends, comrades again become strangers to us. This is why after war we fall into despair."
-from a text of a speech by Chris Hedges
(author of "War is a Force That Gives Us Meaning")
Finished with TAAFI yesterday and the last two days at were Porn-O-Rama. I love culturally sanctioned porn, meaning porn I can watch in an art gallery with the pornographers present, and laugh at. Laughing at a cable station is never as much fun.
On Sunday, artist Lisa Pereira presented an Emerging Video Artist Retrospective, with oodles of porn, once again in the Yoga room. (I enjoyed this exciting new direction that the Drake hotel was taking with their Yoga Room) The video I viewed was horoscopic (new word, all mine) with graphic instances of each sun sign's specific sexual proclivities, introduced with brilliantly cheesy 3D graphics. Monday's yoga room presentation were video works by Julian Calleros, who being a lovely young gent, warned me when the sexually explicit material was about to start. He seemed a little disconcerted when I yelled "YAY! MALE HOMOEROTICISM!" and started laughing (I don't know why I love to holler that phrase, I just do.)
Head and Yeti shoulders above the rest was, per usual, Allyson Mitchell. (shocking that over a week has gone by on this blog with out someone raving about her work!) I couldn't get a full shot of the eight foot furry voracious ladies, so these details will have to do.
Images of their naughty bits are in the comment section.