Sunday, 30 November 2014

:))

 'look at water and fire
earth and wind
enemies and friends all at once'
Rumi
Khatia Shiuka, Old Tbilisi, Autumn, 2010.
This world is big olympus mountain, 
where each -  lonely human is a god.
Khatia Shiuka





Your skin is so young to me, you are my rainbow, now...
So beautiful song...
(K. S)

:)

My awesome pants :)))



Mark Strand - Eating Poetry

 Eating Poetry
By Mark Strand
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.
The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.
Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.
She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.
I am a new man.
I snarl at her and bark.
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.

THE POEM OF THE SPANISH POET

Don't Mention the War!

Lord Tebbit suggested testing the loyalty of Britain’s ethnic minorities.
Tebbit Wants EU Migrants To Be Assessed By Who Their Family Fought For In World War II
Lord Tebbit may have reached his nadir (or zenith depending on which side if the argument you fall) by suggesting that EU migrants attempting to enter Britain should be asked on which side their grandparents fought during the Second World War.

In an update to his infamous cricket test (in 1990 Tebbit suggested testing the loyalty of Britain’s ethnic minorities by asking them which international cricket team they supported), the former Tory Party chairman told Newsnight that the modern equivalent was to ask EU migrants who their forefathers fought for in World War II.
He said: "Well one test I would use is to ask them on which side their fathers or grandfathers or whatever fought in the Second World War. And so you'll find that the Poles and the Czechs and the Slovaks were all on the right side. And so that's a pretty good test isn’t it? Perhaps we'll even manage to teach them to play cricket over the years." 
We are in The Stone Age, i see technology revolution can't help you... 
and 'Don't Mention the War'! -:)))
 Maybe people don't care war and politics?  

Saturday, 29 November 2014

Death of A Revolutionary (Margaret Thatcher)

Death of a Revolutionary
What Britain needs is an iron lady.
Margaret Thatcher
* I love argument, I love debate. I don't expect anyone just to sit there and agree with me, that's not their job.
I don't mind how much my Ministers talk, so long as they do what I say.
Margaret Thatcher
'A documentary about the late former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, which could be criticised for being an uncritical hommage rather than a balanced view of her premiership. Most of the negative impacts caused by the fundamental changes she brought to Britain have been "elegantly" omitted, but her motives, her basic believes, her encouraging message and everything positive she stood for are beautifully summarised and one understands why despite her errors and some misjudgement she could be praised as a great and visionary politician who not only changed Britain for the better   but had an influence on the world like few other politicians can claim.'
( Only one woman, of course I am glad and happy with that pic and historical fact! 
Great photo, indeed!  I'll be more happy in the future when i will saw one more great 'pics" in live.
K. S)
  
* You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it. 
* If you lead a country like Britain, a strong country, a country which has taken a lead in world affairs in good times and in bad, a country that is always reliable, then you have to have a touch of iron about you. 
One of the things being in politics has taught me is that men are not a reasoned or reasonable sex.
Margaret Thatcher

John F. Kennedy & Orson Welles

 John F. Kennedy; Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.


Orson Welles; Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what's for lunch.


Thursday, 27 November 2014

A Hymn to The Disappearing Gentlemen's Lavatories of Old London

A Hymn to The Disappearing Gentlemen's Lavatories of Old London
Dedicated to the late Joe Orton

Tuesday, 25 November 2014

Alfred Hitchcock, by Khatia Shiuka

                        Alfred Hitchcock, by Khatia Shiuka

Funny pic, mee in Manchester, 25 nov, 2014 




Boo!

Sunday, 23 November 2014

Me :)

  :)
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p028b9yw

2010


Andy Warhol ‘Art Should Be For Everyone’

  Andy Warhol Exhibition at The Tate Liverpool in the Albert Dock.
Transmitting Andy Warhol
video
 Andy Warhol ‘Art should be for everyone’ (who h
as money.k. S).

Hans Richter's Ghost Before Breakfast, 1928

Hans Richter   
Ghost Before Breakfast, 1928
(Hans Richter's Ghost Before Breakfast, 1928' part of my Artist research. K. S )
(Photo; Hans Richter, Sergei Eisenstein and Man Ray, Paris' 1929)
Hans Richter (1888-1976) was a painter and film-experimenter, born in Berlin, moved to Zürich in 1916 and joined the Dada movement. In 1919 he started to experiment with film together with Viking Eggeling. Richter emigrated to USA 1940.
Between 1908 and 1911 Hans Richter studied art at the Academy of Art in Berlin, and for a short period in Paris.
  During the World War Richter was severely wounded and removed from active duty. Richter's subsequent involvement in Zurich Dada, heir in many respects to Hans Leybold's Revolution (Hugo Bali and Richard Huelsenbeck, key founding members of Zurich Dada, were initially involved in the group), was crucial. Equally significant were his contact with Theodor Däubler and the political radicalism evidenced by his contact with radical socialist Ludwig Rubiner, and his formulation of the Radical Artists Group, an organization based in Dada's perception of the significance of the Russian Revolution of 1917.
From 1917 to 1919 Richter was closely involved with Dada events, exhibitions, and publications, showing his paintings with the dadaists for the first time in January at the Galerie Corray a series of paintings he called "visionary portraits."
 In 1918 Tristan Tzara introduced Richter to Viking Eggeling, a Swedish painter who had developed a systematic theory of abstract art.
Richter  was a revolutionary Artists, Richter was forced to leave Germany. He eventually emigrated to the United States, where he taught at the Film Institute of City College in New York. In 1962 he retired and returned to Locarno, Switzerland. Hans Richter died in 1976.


Hans Richter's dadaist rhythmic cine-poetry 'Ghost before breakfast', 1928 was dedicated to Columbus Ohio Street Performer Th' Rocknroll reverend, who on the night of March 1st 2011 during a performance on the corners of 5th and High Streets, was beaten by two unknown assailants who were instructed by a young man and his overweight "Trick" to beat him. Th' Rev then made his way to a local tobacco store where he was molested by an elderly hippie with a blonde fright wig. Th' Reverend was last seen wearing an Elephant Trunk, Red,White and Blue Top Hat. White Hooded Terry Cloth Robe and Indian Moccasins. Anyone with any information to this Crime please Contact the Columbus Ohio Police. And the next time you see Th' Rev, Don't take his coffee...Just give him a cigarette...'

 The ghosts in "Vormittagsspuk" are bewildering rather than scary. One morning a suburban house is invaded by four flying bowler hats - the ghosts - and a series of strange events are staged in playful stop motion. The sound is lost because the sound version - with music by Paul Hindemith - was confiscated by the Nazis as "Entartete Kunst" (Degenerate art).
The movement used shocking, irrational, or absurd imagery and Freudian dream symbolism to challenge the traditional function of art to represent reality. Related to Dada cinema, Surrealist cinema is characterised by juxtapositions, the rejection of dramatic psychology, and a frequent use of shocking imagery.
Jean Arp, Tristan Tzara et Hans Richter

  The Constructivist and Dadaist congress in Weimar, 1922. That's Tristan Tzara with the monocle, Hans Richter laying on the ground, El Lissitzky with the pipe and Lucia and László Moholy-Nagy on the anterior row.



2. Film  Sergei Eisenstein's  Battleship Potemkin 1925.
 Eisenstein was a pioneering Soviet Russian film director.



Saturday, 22 November 2014

The History Of The British Suffragettes

Scanography
 The History Of The British Suffragettes
I create collage story about Suffragettes movement in the UK. For collage I used can, old papers, and photos from women's rights history etc for example photo about Emmeline Pankhurst was arrested outside Buckingham Palace, London during a demonstration,1914.
Also I used Suffragettes general slogan ' VOTE FOR WOMEN'. I used bike’s photo, because before in many countries girl/women had no right to ride bike, but today everything has changed but unfortunately not everywhere.
Bit about Suffragettes very popular slogan 'Vote for women',  The votes-for-women movement exploded in popularity the UK in 1903 - hence this year's centenary celebrations, but the story of the campaign begins before the reign of Queen Victoria.
Today in many countries politicians using THIS SLOGAN BEFORE GENERAL ELECTIONS, I personally think that Suffragettes slogan ‘Vote For Women’ was not about VOTE, It was more about equal rights, about equal opportunity, about gender equality not about VOTE. I don't against 'VOTE", Vote if you want it, but I think that; Vote isn't a guarantee of democracy, I mean that women in 20 century had right to vote in A. Hitler's Nazi Germany, in Benito Mussolini’s Italy, in Stalin's USSR but there wasn't equality and freedom, freedom for all and privilege for none, more many so called democratic countries wasn’t and aren’t democratic countries, today. Again where’s true democracy there is justice, equality, equal opportunity and freedom for all and privilege for none. Why I prefered story of women's right, maybe because 1. Suffragettes were really very brave people. Suffragettes being tortured and force-feeding when they used hunger striker in prison, more Emily Davison died after being struck by the King George's horse.
So it was hard put suffragettes incredible and heroic history in 3 piece, but anyway I tried.
K. Shiuka

Little Boxes, by Malvina Reynolds

  Peace Isn't Treason
  Malvina Reynolds 
 Little Boxes

Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky tacky,1
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
(Words and music by Malvina Reynolds)

( Malvina Reynolds and Bob Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival, 1964.)






Wednesday, 19 November 2014

Non - Violence


 
  'When it gets down to having to use violence,then you're playing the system's game.The establishment will irritate you-pull your beard-flick your face-to make you fight.Because once they've got you violent,then they know how to handle you."
 Lennon

Tuesday, 18 November 2014

Maya Angelou; If you don't like something, change it.

* If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change your attitude.
*My mother said I must always be intolerant of ignorance but understanding of illiteracy. That some people, unable to go to school, were more educated and more intelligent than college professors.
*A wise woman wishes to be no one's enemy; a wise woman refuses to be anyone's victim.
*My great hope is to laugh as much as I cry; to get my work done and try to love somebody and have the courage to accept the love in return.
Maya Angelou

Monday, 17 November 2014

Unbelievable!

I can't believe it that's really hard talk..:(

BBC HARDtalk - Dr Mads Gilbert - Doctor and Activist

HARDtalk Speaks to Israeli historian, Ilan Pappe

Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. 
The good news is that you don't know how great you can be! 
How much you can love! What you can accomplish! 
And what your potential is!..
* Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.
Anne Frank
 (I love Anne Frank, almost from my childhood i worried about her 1000 times, and i'm afraid i will worry for every child across the world... K. S)


Jesus Hated Bald Pussy

Jesus Hated Bald Pussy

Let's face it, the yo-yo president of the U.S.A. knows nothing. He is a dunce. He does what he is told to do, says what he is told to say, poses the way he is told to pose. He is a fool.

No. Nonsense. The president cannot be a Fool. Not at this moment in time, when the last living vestiges of the American Dream are on the line. This is not the time to have a bogus rich kid in charge of the White House.

Which is, after all, our house. That is our headquarters, it is where the heart of America lives. So if the president lies and acts giddy about other people's lives, if he wantonly and stupidly endorses mass murder by definition, a loud and meaningless animal with no functional intelligence and no balls.

To say this goofy child president is looking more and more like Richard Nixon in the summer of 1974 would be a flagrant insult to Nixon.

Whoops! Did I say that? Is it even vaguely possible that some New Age Republican whore-beast of a false president could actually make Richard Nixon look like a Liberal?

The capacity of these vicious assholes we elected to be in charge of our lives for four years to commit terminal damage to our lives and our souls and our loved ones is far beyond Nixon's. Shit! Nixon was the creator of many of the once-proud historical landmarks that these dumb bastards are savagely destroying now: the Clean Air Act of 1970; Campaign Finance Reform; the endangered species act; a Real-Politik dialogue with China; and on and on.

The prevailing quality of life in America-by any accepted methods of measuring-was inarguably freer and more politically open under Nixon than it is today in this evil year of our Lord 2002.

The Boss was a certified monster who deserved to be impeached and banished. He was a truthless creature of former FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, a foul human monument to corruption and depravity on a scale that dwarfs any other public official in American history. But Nixon was at least smart enough to understand why so many honorable patriotic U.S. citizens despised him. He was a Liar. The truth was not in him.

Nixon believed, as he said many times, that if the president of the United States does it, it can't be illegal. But Nixon never understood the much higher and meaner truth of Bob Dylan's warning that "To live outside the law you must be honest."

The difference between an outlaw and a war criminal is the difference between a pedophile and a Pederast: The pedophile is a person who thinks about sexual behavior with children, and the Pederast does these things. He lays hands on innocent children, he penetrates them and changes their lives forever.

Being the object of a pedophile's warped affections is a Routine feature of growing up in America, and being a victim of a Pederast's crazed "love" is part of dying. Innocence is no longer an option. Once penetrated, the child becomes a Queer in his own mind, and that is not much different than murder.

Richard Nixon crossed the line when he began murdering foreigners in the name of "family values"- and George Bush crossed it when he sneaked into office and began killing brown skinned children in the name of Jesus and the American people.

When Muhammad Ali declined to be drafted and forced to kill "gooks" in Vietnam he said, "I ain't got nothin' against them Viet Cong. No Cong ever called me Nigger."
I agreed with him, according to my own personal ethics and values. He was right.

If we all had a dash of Muhammad Ali's eloquent courage, this country and the world would be a better place today because of it. Okay. That's it for now. Read it and weep....See you tomorrow, folks. You haven't heard the last of me. I am the one who speaks for the spitit of freedom and decency in you. Shit. Somebody has to do it.
We have become a Nazi monster in the eyes of the whole world-a nation of bullies and bastards who would rather kill than live peacefully. We are not just Whores for power and oil, but killer whores with hate and fear in our hearts. We are human scum, and that is how history will judge us... No redeeming social value. Just whores. Get out of our way, or we'll kill you.

Well, shit on that dumbness. George W. Bush does not speak for me or my son or my mother or my friends or the people I respect in this world. We didn't vote for these cheap, greedy little killers who speak for America today- and we will not vote for them again in 2002. Or 2004. Or ever.

Who does vote for these dishonest shitheads? Who among us can be happy and proud of having all this innocent blood on our hands? Who are these swine? These flag-sucking half-wits who get fleeced and fooled by stupid little rich kids like George Bush? They are the same ones who wanted to have Muhammad Ali locked up for refusing to kill "gooks". They speak for all that is cruel and stupid and vicious in the American character. They are racists and hate mongers among us-they are the Ku Klux Klan. I piss down the throats of these Nazis. And I am too old to worry about whether they like it or not. Fuck them...
Hunter S. Thompson
From "Kingdom Of Fear "

I am alone, I thought, and they are everybody

I am alone, I thought, and they are everybody
Fyodor Dostoyevsky

In January of 1978 the band Warsaw, whose name was inspired by the gloomy and bleak song “Warszawa” by David Bowie, renamed themselves to Joy Division, a slang used in the novel The House of Dolls to describe women inmates in concentration camps who were forced to be prostitutes for Nazi soldiers. Joy Division would only record two albums—Unknown Pleasures, released in 1979, and Closer, released in 1980. In between the two album releases was the single “Love Will Tear Us Apart.” On May 18, 1980 lead singer Ian Curtis committed suicide in his kitchen. Exactly two months later Closer was released, an album which has as its cover a picture of a tomb.


If you are looking for dark, depressing music Joy Division is a prime band to start with not just because of the darkness associated with Curtis’s death or the meaning of their name or the song title choices but because, probably more so than any other band from the late ’70s and early ’80s, their brand of dark depressive music feels so well-constructed and for lack of a better word organic. The Achilles heel of any depressive music is that it’s just a razor’s edge away from being bad high school poetry in terms of lyrics and overwrought hammer-to-your-head music in terms of atmosphere. The music of Joy Division, however, feels extremely clear and well thought out and it helped that it didn’t require an external look to set them apart—the members of Joy Division, like the picture above shows, were four normal-looking dudes; no Robert Smith style makeup or Morrissey style dramatics to be found. Sometimes the best kind of fucked-up is dressed in normal clothes.

Joy Division is the Dostoyevsky of modern music. Dostoyevsky didn’t invent the dark novel but he certainly took it to a different level by adding the existential and psychological touches that he did to his stories, which in turn laid the groundwork for countless other writers after him. While other writers were toying around with existentialism in small and new ways, Dostoyevsky was putting it front and center—culminating with his final novel, The Brothers Karamazov, a story that explores the depths of religion and evil and humanity against a backdrop of a patricide. What makes The Brothers Karamazov an amazing piece of literature was that within four months of its publication Dostoyevsky was dead; the novel is a work by a dying man who wanted to confront everything he was afraid of and, somehow, the end result was a perfectly written book and not a jumbled and disorienting collection of thoughts and fears thrown into scenes and character’s thoughts. Likewise, Joy Division didn’t invent the depressive album—or depressive music—but they took things to another level by incorporating keyboards (something that was still kind of taboo at the time) and playing music that was more concerned with atmosphere than with traditional pop, rock, or punk structure.[1] The end result was music that provided the groundwork for much of the synth- and keyboard-driven pop music of the ’80s. (After Curtis died the remaining members of Joy Division formed New Order, a band that further influenced countless bands in the ’80s.)

All of this leads me to “Atrocity Exhibition,” the opening track on Closer and a title which sounds like a term used in a Dostoyevsky novel.[2] To be sure, there are many other songs that are darker than “Atrocity Exhibition” (much of the catalog within the death metal genre alone probably ranks higher on the darkness scale) but what makes this so bleak, creepy, and haunting is the combination of Curtis’s vocals—he sang with a kind of white man baritone that almost requires you to sing with your lower jaw pulling back to your throat in order to imitate it—and the lush dankness of the music. Stephen Morris’s pop-tribal drum beats, Peter Hook’s slinking and polished bass lines, Bernard Sumner’s assaulting guitar that ranges from sounding like a saw to a maniacal drill: all of these things combine to give life—albeit it creepy life—to lyrics such as “Asylums with doors open wide/Where people had paid to see inside/For entertainment they watch his body twist/Behind his eyes he says, ‘I still exist.’”

If you reading this and have never heard “Atrocity Exhibition” before—or any of Joy Division’s music—it is easy to jump to a conclusion based on the words in the previous paragraph (asylums, assaulting, maniacal drill) that this might very well be a track of the damned. But this is why I think the Dostoyevsky analogy is so crucial in explaining Joy Division’s music. You could read a summary to The Idiot and come away from it thinking, “Jesus Christ, how fucking bleak.” And it is bleak but the writing, the story structure, and the existentialism make it all a little bit more readable and not as daunting as one would expect. The same thing can be applied to “Atrocity Exhibition”: the title alone can make some people not want to listen to it but then when you read lyrics like “You’ll see the horrors of a faraway place/Meet the architects of law face to face/See mass murder on a scale you’ve never seen/And all the ones who try hard to succeed” and it can all be too much, but the music and the atmosphere of the song are first-rate; there is nothing amateurish or unpolished about this song at all.

I fully realize that there will always be people who want nothing to do with depressive music on this scale (or with the writings of Dostoyevsky for that matter). Stuff like this is an acquired taste and typically the acquisition arrives at low or frustrating points in one’s life and by default even if Ian Curtis hadn’t killed himself the music of Joy Division would have most certainly not caught on in any meaningful mainstream sense. The easy opinion to arrive at is that it is a shame that Joy Division is not a well-known band, that the fans of the band have a Caulfield-esque right to call the rest of us phonies for not appreciating the darker elements of the world. I can’t ever slight people for not wanting to embrace uncomfortable things—if it’s not your cup of tea, it’s not your cup of tea. I have no interest in ever reading American Psycho. We all have our things that makes us make a face and say “no thanks” whether it be broccoli or a novel about a serial killer that uses oh dear god I can’t even type it here.

Joy Division made dark music. They represented another marker on the road of modern music in which artists tried to explore bleakness and darkness in new and different ways. If their music speaks to you, you will become hooked and you will buy their albums and you will retroactively lament Curtis’s suicide if only for the selfish reason that there was so much music that never had the chance of being made after he hung himself in his kitchen. If their music doesn’t speak to you, well, that’s fine too and at least you tried and isn’t listening to a couple songs a better proposition than reading an entire novel that you feel you won’t like going into it?

“Atrocity Exhibition” is the first song on an album associated with death. Its music teeters on being demented, like the auditory equivalent of a nightmare involving fun house mirrors. Its lyrics are uncomfortable and taunting (“This is the way, come inside”). It’s not for everyone, but it’s the best song by an influential band and its spot in the pantheon is a given—a spot on a dark floor where the bats occasionally live, next to a kiosk with supplementary information on dead Russian novelists.

William McKeen On Hunter S. Thompson

Say a Prayer for Hunter: A remembrance
by William McKeen
"After a certain age, you learn that when the phone rings at midnight Sunday, it's never good news.
"Dude!" It's an old friend. Though we haven't spoken in years, I know his voice instantly. He's a reporter for the Los Angeles Times. "Hunter's dead. He killed himself tonight." Pause. "I thought you'd want to hear it from a friend." Then he's all business, asking me about Hunter Thompson and his place in American culture and journalism history. I shake off my grogginess and bark a few words of benediction and semi-scholarly wisdom into the phone.
I'm supposed to know a lot about Hunter Thompson. I wrote a book on him in 1991 and hosted him when he spoke at my university back in the late seventies, and we had drinks together when we were both covering the 1984 Democratic Convention. When he visited Florida, he'd sometimes call and suggest I drive down to Palm Beach and party with him. Usually, I was relieved to have some other commitment. The thought of partying with Hunter Thompson reminds me that amateurs shouldn't try to play with professionals.
We hadn't spent a lot of time together, so I never felt that I could legitimately call him a friend. But he was good to me. He gave honest, detailed answers to my questions when I was writing my book, and he gave me his unique seal of approval by writing me a note threatening to have my eyes gouged out for writing it: "How fast can you learn Braille?" The letter, with its many vulgarities, is framed in my office. When I put together an anthology a few years ago, while other writers held me up for thousands of dollars to reprint their pieces in our little low-budget book, his fax came back with a scrawl over the contract: "This is free for you, Buddy."
Not long after I'd remarried, he sent me an inscribed copy of his book Kingdom of Fear, in which he'd named me to his honor roll. He wrote, "Dear Bill: I just got married today, so I'll make this note short. Congratulations on your new one too. Life is humming along smartly out here on the farm. Give me a ring sometime." He doodled on his signature and noted the time: 4:24 a.m.
He was so happy. And now, a year later, this phone call.
So I hang up with the reporter, I stand in the middle of the dark bedroom. "What is it?" my wife asks drowsily.
"It's Hunter," I say. Around the house, we call him and Bob Dylan by their first names, in comic presumption of familiarity. "He killed himself." I tell her what I know. Then she says, "Say a prayer for him."
And so I go downstairs, pour myself a couple of fingers of Wild Turkey, and think about Hunter Thompson.
His writing has always been in the shadow of his larger-than-life persona. Even people who didn't read books knew who he was: that crazy dude who took all those drugs and was played in the movies by Johnny Depp and Bill Murray, that wild man who showed up on TV now and then, mumbling so much you couldn't understand a word.
Thompson was his own worst enemy because he fed that caricature. But the fact is he was a marvelous writer. Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is perfect in the same way that The Great Gatsby is perfect. Take a pencil and read those books, looking for something that doesn't sound right, something you'd want to change. You'll leave the pages untouched.
He came from Louisville and his mother tried to raise him to be a Kentucky gentleman, but his father's early death shook Thompson and steered him toward a career as a delinquent. Given a choice of jail or the military, he chose the Air Force and served most of his career at Eglin, the huge base in the Florida Panhandle. After getting chased out of the service, he drifted through the bowels of journalism, once getting fired for destroying a newspaper's vending machine. Perhaps this should be his epitaph: "He had a problem with authority."
He didn't graduate high school, but taught himself to write, retyping books by writers he admired: Steinbeck, Hemingway, Faulkner . . . the usual heavyweights. He said he wanted to get inside the rhythm of their language and find his own style.
He drifted through the Caribbean and began sending dispatches to The National Observer, a feature newspaper conceived as a Sunday edition of the Wall Street Journal. The editors loved his work and his observations about culture south of the equator. After a couple of long-distance years, Thompson came back to the States but his relationship with the paper soon soured. Thompson was not the sort of writer to sit in an office and churn out copy with the necktie crowd.
Married and soon to have a son, he settled into the San Francisco Bay area and sold his blood while his wife worked as a motel maid. He was serious about his writing, but it wasn't paying. Then he wrote a piece for The Nation about the Hell's Angels motorcycle gang, and book offers stuffed his mailbox. He rode with the Angels for a year, got stomped by them, and had his first national fame, as that lunatic reporter who went on the road with those outlaws.
He had a lot in common with them. He called himself an outlaw journalist because he didn't follow the same rules as everyone else. His journalism was usually about journalism: No matter what he started off writing about, he ended up writing about Hunter Thompson trying to cover a story.
Then came the marriage made in literary heaven: When Thompson began working with Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner in 1970, he'd finally found the perfect partner, someone who understood him and gave him space. Their first major collaboration turned two failed magazine assignments - one for Sports Illustrated and one for Rolling Stone - into a masterwork.
When it appeared in Rolling Stone, the byline read "Raoul Duke." But it was too good for a proud author to ascribe to a pseudonym. When it came out in book form in 1972, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas was credited to Hunter S. Thompson.
My students still carry that book around, tattered paperbacks jutting out of back pockets. To students in my journalism classes, Thompson remains some kind of god. One of my old reporter buddies said, "He did what we all wanted to do, but he actually had the balls to do it.”
Thompson told me this in one of our interviews: "As a journalist, I somehow managed to break most of the rules and still succeed. It's a hard thing for most of today's journeymen journalists to understand, but only because they can't do it. . . . I am a journalist, and I've never met, as a group, any tribe I'd rather be part of or that are more fun to be with - in spite of the various punks and sycophants of the press. I'm proud to be part of the tribe."
In my introductory journalism course, I assign the students to pick a book from a list of more than 300 titles and write a brief report. More than one-third read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Hunter Thompson is still a hero to those who want to be journalists.
It has always been that way. When I was a younger, single professor, I knew when the phone rang at midnight it was usually a drunken college student who'd just had some epiphany while reading Fear and Loathing, something they had to talk over with their professor right now. Usually, they wanted me to come over and talk about Hunter and maybe pick up a 12-pack on the way. That L.A. Times reporter had been a frequent midnight caller in school, whenever he had a Hunter Thompson moment to share.
Wenner and Rolling Stone gave Thompson license to cover politics and culture, and Thompson settled into his role as American sage from his fortified compound in Woody Creek, Colorado. For most of America, Hunter Thompson was a character, a writer more famous for his personality than for what he wrote. He always blamed Garry Trudeau for ruining his life by modeling the Doonesbury character Uncle Duke after him. (He threatened Trudeau's life too, so maybe he was all talk.)
The image was an enhanced version of reality. Thompson spoke in hyperbole but up close was kind to most people who approached him, even when they spurted incoherent drug fantasies: "Hunter, remember that time we had a joint, like eight years ago in the back of a car in L.A.?" He’d politely pretend to remember.
He was a good and decent man.
I'm finishing the Wild Turkey when the phone rings again, at 2:30 a.m. It's a student from my literary journalism class. "Hunter's dead," he says. "Did you hear?"
"Yes, I heard. Are you okay?"
He takes in a long breath. "I'll be all right. I just can't believe it. Hunter's dead."
"Yes, I know."
I may know a lot about Hunter Thompson, but I don't know why he did this.
Say a prayer for him."
As things stand now, I am going to be a writer. I'm not sure that I'm going to be a good one or even a self-supporting one, but until the dark thumb of fate presses me to the dust and says 'you are nothing', I will be a writer.
 Hunter S. Thompson

Man Ray - The Return to Reason,1923

The Return to Reason-1923  
(Part of my Artist research. K. S )

Man Ray ( 1890–1976 ) US Photographer, painter, object maker, avant garde film- maker, essayist, poet, philosopher, born Emmanuel Radnitzky . He was a  leading figure in the New York and European Dada movements, he is best known for Violon d'Ingres (1924), his photograph in which he made the back of a female nude resemble a violin. Man Ray was an extraordinary man with extraordinary talents. One of the primary leaders of the American modernist movement, he single-handedly pioneered some of the 20th century's most important arts innovations. AMERICAN MASTERS explores the creative and personal passions of this inspiring genius in Man Ray - Prophet of the Avant-Garde. Narrated by Stockard Channing, the film traces Ray's remarkable legacy from his humble beginnings in New York City to his distinctive achievements in Paris and, finally, to his impact upon future generations across the spectrum of creative arts.


 'The Return to Reason',1923  
Wonderful Order In Chaos
One of the first Dadaist experimental film 'The Return to Reason, 1923, white specks and shapes gyrating over a black background, a light-striped torso, a gyrating eggcrate. One of the first Dadaist films.  'The Return to Reason' was the first film to be made by the celebrated surrealist artist, Man Ray. The American-born artist made the film soon after he moved to Paris in the early 1920s to found the Dada movement.

  For Dada, war meant the loss of reason, but the images that Ray’s film comprises—visual sensations of one sort or another—shift the emphasis to who has “returned to reason,”  the film is  3 minutes but includes some astonishing and evocative images. The early segments of the film iillustrates a technique which Man Ray pioneered in static photography, the rayograph, In film, an object is placed between a light source and photo-sensitive - sensual film, in contrast to traditional photography where photographic film captures light reflected off an object. For  film  Man Ray sought to extend the rayograph technique to a moving image. He sprinkled salt and pepper on one piece of film, pins on another, illuminated the film for a few seconds, then developed the film. The resulting images resemble a seriously weird drugs trip.  

Film maker added additional sequences to make the film of sufficient length to have an impact. These include night shots of lights at a fairground and a section in which a paper mobile appears to dance with its shadow. For the final few seconds of the film, Man Ray shot some hallucinatory images of the nude torso of his model, Kiki of Montparnasse, illuminated in striped light, Geometric designs and real objects yield to a human form: a naked woman’s torso, indoors, in bright daylight. Her round belly and breasts are the ground on which figures—shadows—generated by the natural light dance, assuming the curvature of her shape. The woman is introduced as a dancer in a title; or are the shadows thus being described? Regardless, their combination is incredibly sensual. 
In whole film is chaos but you can see wonderful order in chaos.  
K. Shiuka




Man Ray - 'The Return to Reason',1923

Sunday, 16 November 2014

G20's funny photos with Koala

G20's funny photos with Koala; G20's koala diplomacy
World leaders arrived at the G20 summit in Australia this weekend to help resolve serious global crises - but they stayed for the koalas.
Before getting down to the hard business of fixing the economy, ending the Ebola epidemic and getting to the bottom of the situation in Ukraine, participants of the high-level talks in Brisbane were each handed Australia's cuddly mascot for a photo-op Saturday.
All heads of state at the summit, from the ‘leader of the free world’ President Obama to the ‘Iron Chancellor’ Angela Merkel, proved powerless against the charms of the ridiculously photogenic animals.
Tony Abbott and Barack Obama at a photo op on the sidelines of the G20
Canada's Prime Minister Stephen Harper holding 'Jimbelunga' the koala before the start of the


Vladimir Putin cracks a rare smile during his time in Brisbane as he gets to grips with two-year-old Jimbelung, whose name means ‘friend’.

Angela Merkel takes a more cautious approach. It might be a wise strategy. From the Wildcare Australia website: ‘Koalas have strong razor-sharp claws that are capable of causing severe injuries, particularly to the face. They also bite – hard. Although they may appear docile, they are capable of lashing out very quickly.’