December 21, 2002 at 6:07 pm Leave a comment

Things I found rummaging through my documents folder.

An architectural march of structures that underly Mark Twain’s blimp in his search for Haley’s comet, the LNF Pool is a list for the cognoscente, by the info-proletariat, and by hegemony opposed to the connoisseur.
Stuff gets established in ways the little eyes on top of x and y are blind to.That’s what we’re establishing here. Not the sublime, but a state goofy enough to keep us on the margins of belief. Ne roi, mais jester, as the olde saying goes.. The LNF Pool, a mailing list for people who like to do things, because they do things.
100% Not affiliated with neen.


In my three years of freelancing I’ve learned to professionally report on issues spanning the gamuts of human affairs. I have never missed a deadline, and I’ve learned an effective ability to manage my time and skills to be able to meet competing timetables. My articles are populated with clean copy that can be published with minimal editing.

A journalist can be two things, an inventive rancouter equal to the challenges of investigating the facets in an issue, or a quick witted reporter aided by a concise style and good research skills. As a Reuters Correspondent I feel my editing and writing skills will be effectively challenged in all aspects of journalism.

French. Extremely basic knowledge. It’s been years since I studied French. I still remember the grammar and some vocabulary. I’d like to pick it up again.

What is beginning to occur to me is that neen, and I know my title is need, was perhaps the only art work to come about in the 90s that seemed a fulfillment of the 20th century. Both performance and conceptual, Manetas managed to do something that caught the spirit that left when Warhol died. Art has stuttered since then for something new to do. With most work still telic (and there’s many fine things for telics to do), it’s still hard to see, but it was the business that really nailed neen down to it’s need in mass consciousness. Art is business, and it need an update, a realization of it’s roots instead of flagging about in theoretical mumbo jumbo.
Theory is important, an artist has to think about what their doing, but neen sees through the impulses of the art world to it’s root: pay attention to me and give me money. Neen is more like Henry Darger, an outsider vocation in the intellectual enterprise, it’s exists a harbinger of theory, but a theory problematic in actually executing in thought. I had this entire thing worked out once about what I thought about the art world etc. How we’d lost our abilities to connect with the audience, and how neen and net art was part of re-embodying art for popular culture. It was more complex than that. I think I might have written something down about it somewhere. Lemme see ok here we go:
list of weird avant-garde art movements

symp <– Canadian
Nadaists <— Columbian


Landscape painting, that Tv show where they teach you how to
paint like that.

This last one is our line of the hour. You see conceptualism has become like that TV show in the eighties where that guy showed you how to do landscape paintings. Conceptualism relies, like the existentialists, on frequently reactionary politics. It’s reactionary so of course it keeps the status qou it’s reacting against in itself like a vaccine housing a virus. This isn’t always true, many conceptual games thoroughly shed their referent to become fully independent thoughts. Found another little clip on this subject:

the biggest problem with conceptual art these ideas is it’s ubiquity.
like the cheesy murals you see in restuarants, anyone can take a few
classes and begin to address some simple or grandoise concepts in art.
For instance the Artrom for the gameboy color raises many questions about uses of technologies, format, and cultural preconceptions around electronics.
It was produced with an obvious fore-knowledge of it’s consequences,
but where is the discussion? Where is the conclusion? It is not enough
to just ask in art, the mystery of the concept is the opening line, the
piece is the conclusion.
Oh what do you know. I did write a review of Hal Hartley’s “No Such Thing”:
No Such Thing
Directed by Hal Hartley
Robert John Burke
Sarah Polley
Released on DVD and Video by MGM
If the world were made of ideas, than there would be no need for the films of Hal Hartley. Over the last twenty years Hal has produced a body of cinema that evolved with the same sense of advantage and pride in low cost techniques as in indie rock. His films grip you with character, storyline, and concept. His latest “No Such Thing” was planned as his first major film, however it was canned from widescreen release when Hal refused to make an edit to the film. Thanks god he refused. No Such Thing is the Alphaville of our times. While the previews for it left me skeptical, the film itself is simply the most breath taking thing Hal has done since other classics like Surviving Desire and Henry Fool, and perhaps more so. The film centers on a lowly reporter (Sarah Polley) at a magazine who intercepts a letter from a man claiming to be her fiance’s killer. She ends up on assignment to track down the monster her fiance was contacting. Like all Hartley films each character is a metaphor, an avatar of some idea he’s working with and the protoganist’s interactions only deepens the sense of conversation and critique.The protagonist is a simple example of innocence and the film centers on a biblical idea she espouses, “It’s like my mother used to say, Jesus had it figured out all good and proper. Love your enemies like you love yourself.” The monster is a monster, a real fire breathing possible incarnation of evil. I won’t get anymore into the plot, because it is riveting, and the film spins through ideas like a finely honed essay. Mr. Hartlety has here filmed a parable of our times. With planes flying through buildings, suicide bombings, and racial strife at an all time high, we no longer need monsters to remind us of our mortality or to hoist the responsibilities of being cruel, it’s just fucking implicit in our lives.
I don’t like this review as much as when I wrote it. Ahh well, also found the lyrics to Jandek’s Other Man:

Your Other Man (1/5)
Well, I guess your mind’s made up
Well, I guess there’s not much left to do
Go on, see your other man
Walk up the stairs
That’s where the stars are
Go on, see your other man
Well, you wouldn’t believe it tastes like candy
Gimme a fork, yeah a gimme a fork
Eat some potato
Shades are falling
Shades are falling
And for my final rummage. A report for my history of photography class. A respone to Sontag’s criticism of Diane Arbus:

Andy Jones
Prof. Libster

Susan Sontag America, Seen Through Photographs Darkly

Growing up in the soup culture suburbia of the eighties, desolation followed the metropolis like kudzu. Strip malls exploded out concrete parking lots and closed even faster. There was an aesthetic to the whole thing. Surrounded by sedate colors and vast expanses of empty space I can remember the horror and loneliness these brittle landscapes invoked in me. A similar feeling is aroused by Diane Arbus and her photographs. As Susan Sontag points out, “Arbus’ work does not invite viewers to identify with the pariahs and miserable-looking people she photographed.” Instead the viewer is horrified, or empathizes with the subjects. Sontag says these photos don’t present humanity as one, but I feel as they capture a certain melancholia that has pestered my age. Humanity is one because humanity is alienated. A friend of mine calls and tells me she feels alone in her problems, she’s going to start seeing a psychologist. I was prescribed with depression and prozac in high school. I’m not depressed now some 6 years later, but the memory remains of that indulgence. Perhaps that’s what Arbus means to me is that self-indulgence and alienation we force upon ourselves growing up. Her work reminds me of the emo-rock popular on college rock stations that is always maudlin on the darker side of consciousness. These works provide a kind of comfort because the subjects are as messed up as we are… or think we are. There’s a kind of common humanity behind all them, that their all human and flawed, that their all really just like us.
and as an encore, my paper on Lewis Hine:
Andy Jonester
Prof. Libby
History of Photography

Lewis Hine, Social Photography

“Does art do anything?”, she says to us one afternoon. We don’t know what to say and I just stare at the table before me. We’re supposed to be taking pictures and developing photos, but instead we’re discussing art. They have these round bench room at the Glassell where I’m taking photography for the sixth year in a row or at least what seems like it. I’ve taken one picture in six years that my teacher likes, the rest she just shrugs at says, “I knew it.” My swirling collages of over exposed jumble with my step Mother’s Boston Terriers in one floating over a TV set has failed to impress her, as have my elaborate plastic army men blurred like some photo from a grunge-rock album’s liner notes. “Does it do anything?”, she says. I don’t know what to say because of course it does something: it makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something. However I suppose it was bigger issues she wanted me to tackle, after all developing photos makes everyone feel like they’ve accomplished something. I suppose I wasn’t like Lewis Hine, full of ideas about the need for social photography. I don’t think anyone ever comment that about my blurred avant-mess that, “With a picture thus sympathetically interpreted, what a lever we have for the social uplift.” My photos weren’t symbols bringing the view close to reality, I had no interest in such things. But enough with the self-pity’n stuff, I’m not Lewis Hine, but reading his manifesto does give me a bit more respect for him. Hine did some amazing things that brought the world and social issues to our doorsteps. His ability to both aestheticize and empathize with his subjects is amazing. His work requires the viewer have a heart and look close at his portraits. His work makes even the most jaded see the world through the eyes of a humanist.
I’m all art-ed out for the next couple of days and my journals are always a little melodramatic, I’m melodramatic, and a tab self-important.See you folks after the holidays.


going to an eggnog party tonight. doing my show on monday then driving to b-ham for holidays.

Entry filed under: media.

rumors, schools, and parents instrospection

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