Second in a series.
I still haven’t solved the problem of how to present graffiti. But I’m trying my hand at the first step: collecting all my data in one place.
At the moment, my formal organizational system is in the form of “sets” on Flickr. I made a collection that contains all the sets I’ve made of my ever-expanding collection of photos of graffiti. I still need to get some of the pictures I’ve taken on my phone around both Providence and Amherst/Boston, and marshal them into order. But for now, you have a curated collection of street art from Athens (Summer and Winter of ’09, then Summer ’12 and ’13), London, and a small one from Montreal.
But the predominant struggle here is one of How to Write About Art. Continue reading “Graffiti, Photography, & Writing about Art.”
The nice thing about the fiber festival is the way it opens up all the different aspects of the process of taking wool and making something warm and fluffy and wearable out of it. The entire process opens up––how the fibers come off the sheep, how they are turned into yarn, and then how you can manipulate that yarn into something else.
Coggeshall Farm in Bristol RI hosts the Fiber Festival every year.
When shearing sheep, you wear special shoes to keep from injuring them.
A sheep will not struggle if it feels like it has no chance of righting itself, so it’s a delicate process to keep the sheep feeling immobilized.
how it comes off the sheep.
Spinning the wool off the sheep into yarn…
… That yarn is being used to weave a shawl for a raffle.
The most familiar form.
These turkeys made the most excellent noise.
They had such fascinating colors.
The Fiber Festival takes place every year in Bristol, RI, in May. The farm has horses and a donkey. Coggeshall Farm, that hosts the Festival, is also a museum. It stands as a reconstruction of a farm from the turn of the 18th century.
Continue reading “Photography: Fiber Festival”
Cops are a state apparatus that make me really nervous. Usually I avoid even looking at them, if possible. Much less talking to them, and almost never taking their picture. But during Athens Pride, I couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to capture all of these young men standing, watching the parade go by. Continue reading “Cops, anarchy, and feather boas.”
I don’t want to get shot. That’s what it boils down to.
This may seem like an obvious admission, because no one wants to get shot. Perhaps it speaks to my sheltered existence that the threat of physical violence has such a hold over me, or perhaps it makes me human, but I do not want to find myself in a situation where other people have weapons and the authority or desire to use them.
Sometimes I think that I am a pacifist because I have never had to fight for anything in my life.
But there is the question of war reporting. Continue reading “Ruminations on the future and war.”
First in a series
One of my hobbies is documenting graffiti. This started in Athens, around 2008, when there was, along with an explosion of civil unrest and political discontent in the city, an artistic explosion that spread out across the walls of the city. Continue reading “How to Present Graffiti”