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October 19, 2008
Of late
Piemonte. Gastronomer's paradise. Wondering why would walking on Via Po where Nietzsche went definitely mad by hugging a horse in public would give me such a thrill.
Also, who would have guessed that only a few months after seeing the marvelous Vittorio Sella's pioneering mountaineering photos and learning about the Duke of the Abruzzi at the Estorick Collection, I would be visiting the Torino Section of the Clube Alpino Italiano?
*****
At the Tate Modern:
The Turbine Hall thing is boring and predictable. The books left on the bunkbeds are War of the Worlds, Hiroshima mon amour and the like. If it was supposed to have a post-apolcalyptical feel, someone whould have considered not painting the beds in bright colors.
The Rothko exhibition was unnecessary. The Tate already had the Seagram murals in a dimly lit room which was practically deserted on Friday nights when the galleries close at 10pm. It was just perfect for any aspirer to religious ecstasy through contemplation of color. Now I'm dreading that it won't be there anymore after this.
Cildo Meireles is amazing. A brazilian conceptual artist that completely blew my mind.
"You recently paid tribute to Manzoni at Herning Park in Denmark by standing upside down on his Socle du Monde plinth. Like so many of your works, the title you gave the tribute – Atlas – is wonderfully ironic, inasmuch as you invert the mythological character’s performance."
*****
Las Vegas wasn't the explosion of kitsch I hoped for or, at least, my expectations were too high. However, driving back to San Diego we found the cutest american tourist trap: a wild west ghost town complete with saloon, sheriff's office and silver mine.
*****
Oh. Oh. Oh. The Wire. Magnificent. I find myself mentally going over the episodes and marveling at the social commentary embedded in it.
Stringer Bell being my favorite character...gangster and macroeconomics nerd.
*****
Found Thomas Dutronc, a fellow Djangophile.
Also, his is the 5th version of September Song on my iTunes now. I love September Song.
*****
Standing on a red light on Market Street, a San Francisco homeless woman joined me and R. on a futile lover's quarrel. We ignored her as you do in a city full of homeless people who unfortunately seem in their most part deranged. She listened attentively to the arguments on either side and, as the light turned green and we were about to set out, she said "I wish I had your problems". End of discussion. And I suspect that just the memory of it will be a stopper to any idiotic quarrel to come.
*****
Amazon's recommendations on drugs.
Obviously wanting to buy a foilcutter means I drink wine which means I have a toddler. And buying Pushkin's biography makes me the owner of an HP printer.
Posted by claudia
Comments
Posted by dani at October 21, 2008 11:09 AM
Posted by tristan forward at October 21, 2008 06:43 PM