Back in my studio today and working in-house tomorrow. Making a valiant attempt to make good use of the time. I'm struggling to understand the vast array of electrical chargers and cables I've collected over the years, and why nothing ever seems to 'fit'. last year I bought a very expensive external hard drive that now contains my full archive. It now seems to be very reluctant to actually 'talk' to any of my computers - in fact, it refuses to connect to anything at all - I think it's a 'cable issue' - I'll have to keep trying.
Watch a drama on the computer last night that had been broadcast earlier in the week about how the country would handle a total power failure, clearly not very well - the general gist being that the further up the social ladder you were, and the more middle class you were, the more selfish and horrible you became. As things got harder, they became more annoying and more 'me, me, me'. Mind you - it did make me a tiny bit paranoid and I think I might start stockpiling food and water.... just in case.
I find it bewildering that this is happening in a so called 'civilised' country.
Leading on from that, an interesting article in the Guardian today. This photograph is quite famous, although many people insist they have never seen it - it can be read in many ways, but has been appropriated (that's my word) to suggest that the people in the foreground were blithely enjoying the sunshine and ignoring what was happening behind them. It simply demonstrates that the camera lies and we see what we want to see. The article that accompanies the image is mostly a re-writing of the past that is only possible after time. On the evening of 9/11 - I went for a drink with a friend, simply to get away from the horror on the media, and talk about what I'd witnessed. If anyone had taken our photograph we would have looked like two blokes in the pub, callously laughing while the world burned. We were not.
I re-read the text of Edward II last night - really enjoyed it. I'm glad I was able to see the new production, even if some of the more traditional critics hated it - I like it more and more. So much rubbish talked about Edward, in the NPG at the weekend I picked up one of their guides that insisted again that he was murdered with a red hot poker, complete rubbish, but sadly more exciting than the truth, which is why the myth perpetuates. The story comes from the puritanical school of religious though that believed in the punishment fitting the crime, as proof of God's intervention, and was created as a myth many years after Edwards death, he almost certainly died by smothering - after many attempts to make him ill through neglect and ill treatment - hopefully to create a more 'natural' death. Killing a King, who by popular belief would have been invested with divine right and anointed by God, would have only been acceptable in battle or by a righteous execution, anything else would have been a damnable sin and probably lead to civl war - parliament was already inclined to extend sympathy to Edward at the time of his imprisonment so Mortimer was forced to act to protect himself, but needed an 'unspoilt' corpse. The Iron bar stuff came much later - probably 50 years. It's a metaphor - anyway, never let the truth get in the way of a good story - much like the 9/11 photo above.
1 comment:
I have lived and worked in Manhattan my entire adult life. My office was then, as it is now, in midtown, and my coworkers and I had run to our conference room's south-facing windows after we heard about the first plane. We watched as the second plane flew into the other tower. One of my colleagues was hysterical, as her husband worked at the WTC. He had not yet arrived at work, but it was a couple of hours before he was able to get through to his wife and let her know he was fine. That afternoon, several hours after the attacks, there being little point in remaining at the office, I walked further uptown to my apartment, joining the throngs heading northwards. The subways weren't operating, and bus service was all but non-existent. Everyone was very quiet. En route home, I stopped by the grocery store as a couple of friends who lived in the suburbs were unable to get home and were going to be staying with me that night (the commuter railroads were suspended and we didn't know when the bridges were going to be re-opened). My cupboards and refrigerator were empty (typical Manhattanite), and I had to be able to offer my friends something to eat for dinner. I imagine had this photographer caught me at the grocery store's cheese counter, I would have been condemned as callous and uncaring.
Post a Comment