ΛSTROMΛNTΛ


1♫
The Raw Vision show at Halle Saint Pierre was also of note. A huge show of outsider art made with great care. I’m particular to the good lot of Mark Beyer acrylic-on-metal paintings and their glow. I got to know a number of artists that I’ll have to explore eventually, though the ‘outsider label’ can oftentimes connect to a kind of compulsion and obsession that contaminates the painting with redundant detail and wild esotericism. I was more into the artists able to stray away from those clichés (not sure if they’re produced by mental disease or simply shown a lot by curators). But as I visited other places in the city, I started thinking that the path is always blocked to ousiders and that ‘insiders’ are already reproducing their other ‘devices’. So then it is ‘heta’, ‘naive’, ‘informal’, oftentimes becoming mainstream through other mediums rather than painting. This incessant remake is not akin to iconology but more like that Le Tigre song bit, let’s take a tour of all the bathrooms you cried in.

The Raw Vision show at Halle Saint Pierre was also of note. A huge show of outsider art made with great care. I’m particular to the good lot of Mark Beyer acrylic-on-metal paintings and their glow. I got to know a number of artists that I’ll have to explore eventually, though the ‘outsider label’ can oftentimes connect to a kind of compulsion and obsession that contaminates the painting with redundant detail and wild esotericism. I was more into the artists able to stray away from those clichés (not sure if they’re produced by mental disease or simply shown a lot by curators). But as I visited other places in the city, I started thinking that the path is always blocked to ousiders and that ‘insiders’ are already reproducing their other ‘devices’. So then it is ‘heta’, ‘naive’, ‘informal’, oftentimes becoming mainstream through other mediums rather than painting. This incessant remake is not akin to iconology but more like that Le Tigre song bit, let’s take a tour of all the bathrooms you cried in.


2♫
Interestingly, the Pompidou is also changing its presentation of art history. Rooms now seem to be organized by kinship and not so much by geography or date. The periphery to the (mostly european) “art world” is now given much more proeminence, like this painting by the brazilian modernist Tarsila do Amaral.

Interestingly, the Pompidou is also changing its presentation of art history. Rooms now seem to be organized by kinship and not so much by geography or date. The periphery to the (mostly european) “art world” is now given much more proeminence, like this painting by the brazilian modernist Tarsila do Amaral.


2♫
I posted this earlier as a clipped cellphone pic. At the time I had to photograph the painting because I could not find the credit (“Fléau!”, Henri-Camille Danger, 1901). And Google found it. It’s a recent acquisition and this is how the museum’s curator explains it:
Is it a historical choice (to make up for gaps in the museum’s collection) or an aesthetic choice?
Our goal is to be as exhaustive as possible, of course. The fact is that the Musée d’Orsay didn’t own a single work by either of these artists until now, even though they were very popular in their time, winning several awards at universal expositions. Danger won the Prix de Rome. His absence from the Musée d’Orsay is quite surprising, especially since his works are held in French regional museums. But we also want to try to overcome the apprehensions, taboos, and even scorn that there has been for this kind of painting, which is deemed pompous, trivial, or in bad taste. This is especially the case for Danger’s “Le Fléau,” which is a bold work with this gigantic nude and these pools of blood. This painting is important because it announces 20th-century filmmaking, which will draw from its slightly crazed grandiosity. We want to show the inventiveness and boldness that characterize academic painting — show that it’s not all that boring or decadent.

I posted this earlier as a clipped cellphone pic. At the time I had to photograph the painting because I could not find the credit (“Fléau!”, Henri-Camille Danger, 1901). And Google found it. It’s a recent acquisition and this is how the museum’s curator explains it:

Is it a historical choice (to make up for gaps in the museum’s collection) or an aesthetic choice?

Our goal is to be as exhaustive as possible, of course. The fact is that the Musée d’Orsay didn’t own a single work by either of these artists until now, even though they were very popular in their time, winning several awards at universal expositions. Danger won the Prix de Rome. His absence from the Musée d’Orsay is quite surprising, especially since his works are held in French regional museums. But we also want to try to overcome the apprehensions, taboos, and even scorn that there has been for this kind of painting, which is deemed pompous, trivial, or in bad taste. This is especially the case for Danger’s “Le Fléau,” which is a bold work with this gigantic nude and these pools of blood. This painting is important because it announces 20th-century filmmaking, which will draw from its slightly crazed grandiosity. We want to show the inventiveness and boldness that characterize academic painting — show that it’s not all that boring or decadent.


5♫
Another Orsay find — the true Loras Tyrell.

Another Orsay find — the true Loras Tyrell.


Btw this portrait of Napoléon Bonaparte’s cousin could be included in the research material for a fanfic on L’Inconnu du Lac’s Henri.

Btw this portrait of Napoléon Bonaparte’s cousin could be included in the research material for a fanfic on L’Inconnu du Lac’s Henri.

fuck-zines:

DECAPITRON 38 / KIKIFRUIT / 60 ISUES / DITTO PRINTED BY SHOBOSHOBO BOOKS

10,00 € TTC PLUS SHIPPING

ALL THE BOOKS ARE DIFFERENT

SOME PICTURE A BIT CONFUSE SOMETIME BUT CHARMING BOOK ABOUT THE FAMOUS FRENCH GAME ” FORT BOYARD “

AN A4 POSTER WITH THE BOOK

Technique: ditto print

Print size: A6 : 10,5 x 10,48 cm

40 PAGES

Fort Boyard Fanfiction.


4♫
Also got this because I Am An Idiot

Also got this because I Am An Idiot

tezukainenglish:

Next up, take a look at the logos for Swallowing the Earth [地球を呑む] (1968-69), Buddha [ブッダ] (1972-83), and Ayako [奇子] (1972-73).
Again, three very different stories reflected in their logos. Swallowing the Earth [地球を呑む] portrays the feeling of frantic energy being barely contained, while the austerity and seriousness of Tezuka’s Buddha [ブッダ] almost feels chiseled out of the stone. Finally, the tight, thin but untidy lines of Ayako [奇子] exemplifies the corrupt underbelly of a family trying to save face.

Meanwhile I read Tezuka’s Ayako. Kinda lazy to pick it apart so I will reblog this instead. I’m both tired of Tezuka and tired of people laying it on Tezuka. What a fucking workhorse genius, but also a sadistic man that uses his talent to make the audience endure terrible concepts (Ayako: girl growing up in the cellar). So you get the familial core unravelling as we get to the 70s, but through it we also get a meta-key of some mysterious happenings of the decade. 700 pages of tying loose ends via familial decadence.

tezukainenglish:

Next up, take a look at the logos for Swallowing the Earth [地球を呑む] (1968-69), Buddha [ブッダ] (1972-83), and Ayako [奇子] (1972-73).

Again, three very different stories reflected in their logos. Swallowing the Earth [地球を呑む] portrays the feeling of frantic energy being barely contained, while the austerity and seriousness of Tezuka’s Buddha [ブッダ] almost feels chiseled out of the stone. Finally, the tight, thin but untidy lines of Ayako [奇子] exemplifies the corrupt underbelly of a family trying to save face.

Meanwhile I read Tezuka’s Ayako. Kinda lazy to pick it apart so I will reblog this instead. I’m both tired of Tezuka and tired of people laying it on Tezuka. What a fucking workhorse genius, but also a sadistic man that uses his talent to make the audience endure terrible concepts (Ayako: girl growing up in the cellar). So you get the familial core unravelling as we get to the 70s, but through it we also get a meta-key of some mysterious happenings of the decade. 700 pages of tying loose ends via familial decadence.


3♫
Koshoku Robot

Koshoku Robot


5♫

Spent a good lot of time on japanese-language shops eyeing their ridiculously cheap goodies. Of course I could only feast my eyes on new, better-looking things in japanese (like Hisae Iwaoka’s Koshoku Robot), so all I got was these yaoi books, a poster book, and what looks to be a production book from the second Gundam movie.


2♫
Got back from Paris today with lots of notes, and suddenly I have a tight schedule; this weekend I’ll be swamped, then Monday I leave again. This is highly unusual for my sluggish schedule.
So first of all I turned 30 in Paris. Why Paris? Why turn 30? At 30 the pressure of time is unavoidable; there’s that round number smiling, asking you what you’ve done so far (and there are so many booming talents nowadays). Then again I “failed” very early on, and so I missed a lot of goals people ache to achieve. My current situation has that air of indulgence and luck that could make a session with a mirror go awkward. That made me climb up the walls for a few months. Now that I’m back, I feel like I found something to the side, ideas on how to transform my life in ways that are “generational”, might take 10 years or more, and will take time. This is something I never bothered with, and I will wear my twenties proudly for that.
I went to Paris for the fourth time. My previous visits were romantic somehow, but things went sour anyway. Let’s see what happens now. Paris is unmovable; the core capital of the 19th Century is still there. Culturally it has become american, appropriating things from other cultures with genuine curiosity; you can ignore most “french” icons in favour of everything else, but in return they will boast that French (white, upper-class) urban way of life. I didn’t find that shine in labor-intensive London, nor Berlin, which still seems too into itself, even if they have their little ghettos and art shows.

Got back from Paris today with lots of notes, and suddenly I have a tight schedule; this weekend I’ll be swamped, then Monday I leave again. This is highly unusual for my sluggish schedule.

So first of all I turned 30 in Paris. Why Paris? Why turn 30? At 30 the pressure of time is unavoidable; there’s that round number smiling, asking you what you’ve done so far (and there are so many booming talents nowadays). Then again I “failed” very early on, and so I missed a lot of goals people ache to achieve. My current situation has that air of indulgence and luck that could make a session with a mirror go awkward. That made me climb up the walls for a few months. Now that I’m back, I feel like I found something to the side, ideas on how to transform my life in ways that are “generational”, might take 10 years or more, and will take time. This is something I never bothered with, and I will wear my twenties proudly for that.

I went to Paris for the fourth time. My previous visits were romantic somehow, but things went sour anyway. Let’s see what happens now. Paris is unmovable; the core capital of the 19th Century is still there. Culturally it has become american, appropriating things from other cultures with genuine curiosity; you can ignore most “french” icons in favour of everything else, but in return they will boast that French (white, upper-class) urban way of life. I didn’t find that shine in labor-intensive London, nor Berlin, which still seems too into itself, even if they have their little ghettos and art shows.


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