The intensity of the heatmap represents the number of events logged. The color range is from 0 to 60+ events over a one-month window. We cap the color range at 60 events so that low intensity activity involving just a handful of events can be seen — in lots of cases there are many more than 60 events in one particular region. The heatmap is constructed for every day in the period from 2004-2009, and the movie runs at 10 days per second.
The orange lines represent the major roads in Afghanistan, and the black outlines are the individual administrative regions.
The question of whether James Joyce’s “Ulysses” is obscene seemed to have been settled for more than 75 years. Until last week, that is, when the creators of a Web comic version of the classic novel, called “Ulysses Seen,” said that Applerequired them to remove any images containing nudity before the comic was approved as an application for the iPad.
“The Greek authorities recently published the names of high-profile citizens accused of being tax cheats. Among other tactics, the government is trying to catch tax evaders by using satellite photos to spot undeclared swimming pools — an indicator of taxable wealth.”
Marina Abramović’s performance “The Artist is Present” at her MoMA retrospective is unsettling. Her posture and stillness are otherworldly. She’s a guru. A crowd of people surrounded her perimeter, their eyes locked for hours. The foyer was brightly lit and cameras were stationed at each corner. To add to the spectacle while I was visiting, a superfan stood in line wearing a robe that was an exact copy of the robe worn by Abramović.
MoMA, being social networking savvy these days, has a Flickr pool of the performance participants. This set of images allows a new reading of the performance that one would never contemplate in the presence of the actual piece. The grid of faces allows for a quick deduction that about 1/8 of them are in tears, a few are celebrities, and according to one comment – New Yorkers have bad hair (ouch! – guilty as charged). Three weeks into the show comes the blog: “Marina Abramović Made me Cry.”
The blog’s author, 28-year-old Katie Notopoulos, hadn’t seen the exhibit before making the blog, even though she apparently works down the street. (As a fellow overwhelmed New Yorker, I am not one to judge not taking advantage of things that occur down the street.) I find this detail interesting in wondering if her unique read of the performance was aided by the fact that she had not attended the exhibit. For instance, would you be inclined to research the Flickr pool after visiting? This theory would be difficult to prove.
Notopoulos, did eventually see the exhibit, but did not partake in the performance. However, based on her Flickr expertise, she is receiving as much coverage as the man who lost his membership for engaging in inappropriate behavior (hopefully). If this comment sounds snarky – it is not in relationship to Notopoulos’s blog – perhaps I roll my eyes at WSJ’s lack of reference when covering the blog. They treat the blog author as an expert on the phenomenon of people coming to tears during the performance. I would think an expert on hypnosis or the silva method would need to be consulted as well.
The site of the exhibition (MoMA) is filled with copycat performances in all corners. I even saw a charming couple wrapped in duct tape recreating “Point of Contact” on the street outside.
Perhaps because of MoMA’s enormous size, I often feel blasé when I finally make it through an exhibition and its crowds. Abramović’s work in an institutional setting can surpass its mall-like confines and inspire people to get their freak on in the streets and engage Internet surfers and lackadaisical journalists. I will be sad when it leaves.
Horst Ademeit, Untitled, 2003, Polaroid with pen, 4 1/3 x 3 1/2 in. Courtesy of the artist and Galerie Susanne Zander, Cologne
White Columns has a solo exhibition for the Dusseldorf-based outsider artist Horst Ademeit (b. 1937). Mr. Ademeit’s body of work is more like a body of evidence that documents “cold rays” in his environment. These documents are a series of polaroid pictures that have painstakingly written notes in all of the margins. I imagine the content would produce a full page if typewritten. They are illegible without a microscope.
I am not sure that Ademeit is trying to make art; in fact, it is hard to believe he lives on his own and takes care of himself.
Ademeit seems tortured by his all-consuming paranoia. Apparently his delusions have escalated so that he wears 3,000 small wood spheres in his orfices (reminiscent of a character from Jan Svankmeyer’s Conspirators of Pleasure).
Ademeit’s polaroids are vaguely similar to work by fellow German artist Hans-Peter Feldmann, they share a similar banality in composition with captions that lead to the “back story.” (see car radio below.) In Feldmann’s case, without the title the image would not “read.” Ademeit faces the same dilemma in his documentation.
Hans-Peter Feldmann Pictures of car radios taken while good music was playing 2004 Detail Courtesy of 303 Gallery New York
Although not an artist, the challenges Mr. Ademeit faces are similar to an artist. I especially appreciate his choice of the polaroid medium in a desire for authenticity, to present evidence that has not been altered or tampered in the way regular film or digital images can be. He has built a system of complex relationships in the world he sees in the small radius around his apartment, so that even scaffolding becomes a subject of inquiry. However, his perception is sensitive to the extreme – a scary world where making art is of least concern.
