Black & White - Masks, Rites and Transformations II (The artists)

I like contradictions. We have never attained the infinite variety and contradictions that exist in nature. Tomorrow I shall contradict myself.
That is the one way I have of asserting my liberty, the real liberty
one does not find as a member of society.

Man Ray

Kati Horna, Remedios Varo, wearing a mask made by Leonora Carrington, 1957


Black & White - Sunday Favorites

I realized that searching was my symbol, the emblem of those who go out at night with nothing in mind, the motives of a destroyer of compasses

Julio Cortázar

Larry Fink


Circles - Mandalas - Radial Symmetry VIII

Now, however long a time may pass, according to the eternal laws governing
the combinations of this eternal play of repetition, all configurations
which have previously existed on this earth must yet meet, attract,
repulse, kiss, and corrupt each other again

Heinrich Heine

Jasper Johns, White Target, 1957

Jannis Kounellis, no title, 1999 (Etching on paper)


Arthur Ganson - The notion of breath and time

A modern-day creator of "twittering machines," Arthur Ganson uses simple, plain materials to build witty mechanical art. But the wit is not simply about Rube Goldberg-ian chain-reaction gags (though you'll find a few of those). His work examines the quiet drama of physical motion, whether driven by a motor or by the actions of the viewer. Notions of balance, of rising and falling, of action and reaction and consequence, play themselves out in wire and steel and plastic. (source)

watch the videos below


Black & White - Masks, Rites and Transformations I

All great things must first wear terrifying and monstrous masks
in order to inscribe themselves on the hearts of humanity

Friedrich Nietzsche

Irving Penn, Three Asaro Mud Men, New Guinea, 1970


Gerhard Richter - September

Gerhard Richter, September, 2005, 52 cm x 72 cm, Oil on canvas



Black & White - Horses

The New York that I had come back to was not my old New York. I used to wander around the streets disconsolately, until one night during a blizzard, I happened to see a man watering a couple of steaming horse-car horses, and I thought, “Well, there at any rate is the human touch.” That made me feel much better.

Alfred Stieglitz

Alfred Stieglitz, “The Terminal, New York” (1892)

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