Feelings are facts.
Olafur Eliasson & Ma Yansong - Feelings are Facts (2010)
“Based on a series of previous experiments by Eliasson that deal with atmospheric density.
Here, Eliasson introduces condensed banks of artificially produced fog into the gallery, shimmering with an artificial light spectrum, created using arrays of red, green and blue fluorescent lamps.
This illusion in light is not something we find in nature, however, as one walks through the space, the sights and sensations experienced become real.
Dimensions are further altered by the substantial lowering of the ceiling along with a nearly 60 meter long curving, inclined wooden floor space which Yansong created within the installation room. The sloping floor challenges visitors to readjust their balance, forcing them to constantly shift their weight and body posture to counterbalance the inclination. This emphasizes the important role of the moving body in the perception of our surroundings. The further visitors venture into the space, the steeper the floors get, reaching the point in which it becomes a wave-like curved wall. Since the ceiling imitates this construction, a seemingly boundless space is discerned above.
Within this installation, insecurity is induced on visitors initially,
reducing visibility, suggesting the need to invent new models for perception.”
“Off II” by Johan Rosenmunthe
Through digital communication like Facebook, Twitter, online dating and personal websites, the representation of our personality becomes more and more streamlined. We have the possibility to project an idea of how we are as a person into the world around us, but with the constant option of censoring information and invent fictional characteristics. Never have we had access to so much information about each other, and never has the information been so unreliable.
My friend Joe introduced me to Graze a couple months ago and I’m thrilled to spread the word about them. Graze is a small startup based in England that sends you boxes of four delicious, hand-packed snacks on a regular schedule of your choosing—all for only $5 each, shipping included.
Using their friendly, colorful interface, you rate the types of snacks you want to receive and Graze ships you boxes of four snacks each at the frequency you choose. It was originally a weekly service but they’ve since added biweekly and monthly options, the former of which works great for me. Of the five boxes I’ve received so far they’ve all been a good match for the preferences I entered and I’ve relished all but two of the snacks. They currently offer over 90 different snack options, so whatever your snacking preference, from sweet to crunchy to low-cal to savory, they have something you’ll enjoy. The snacks themselves are fairly small, but then they aren’t designed to fill you up—they’re just handmade and mostly healthy treats to give you a few moments of pleasure during your day.
Graze is so awesome, I really don’t know how they do it. Everything about the service, from their website to their email notifications to their customer support, is better-designed and -run than those of startups ten times their size. There are tiny details throughout the service that will put a smile on your face, and their emphasis on healthiness and use of recyclable materials in their packaging are two other huge pluses. They offer such a simple, joyful service that I’m proud to support them and hope they’re around for a long while to come.
Graze is currently invite-only but I have four signup codes to share, each of which includes one free box. Reblog or leave a comment if you’re interested and I’ll send over a code. All gone now!
My rules for Twittering are few: I tweet in basic English. I avoid abbreviations and ChatSpell. I go for complete sentences. I try to make my links worth a click. I am not above snark, no matter what I may have written in the past. I tweet my interests, including science and politics, as well as the movies. I try to keep links to stuff on my own site down to around 5 or 10%. I try to think twice before posting.
From this fantastic profile-of-sorts of Carson in the NYT, excerpted from one of her emails to the article’s author:
“we’re talking about the struggle to drag a thought over from the mush of the unconscious into some kind of grammar, syntax, human sense; every attempt means starting over with language. starting over with accuracy. i mean, every thought starts over, so every expression of a thought has to do the same. every accuracy has to be invented… . i feel i am blundering in concepts too fine for me.”
I was also struck by this passage on the subject of Carson’s difficulty writing her latest work, “Red Doc >”:
The new book was also, for Carson, much more difficult to write. She wrote “Autobiography of Red” in less than a year, happily. “it made sense to me all the way through as a work, as an offering,” she wrote in an e-mail. “Red Doc >,” by contrast, was “a mess, obstacle course, uphill grapple in the dark, almost totally disoriented and discontented experiment every minute of the thousand or so years it took to work out.”
It actually took somewhere between 9 and 11 years, off and on…. Carson says it was terrible for years: boring, conventional, sentimental. She gave it to her husband a couple of times, and he strongly disliked it. Finally she decided to start from scratch…. She did some revision, gave it to Knopf, then changed her mind and took it back, then worked on it some more, then gave it back to Knopf.
It’s reassuring to be reminded that even seasoned writers struggle this way and that such difficulties aren’t indicative of poor intent. However, it also shows the lengths that are sometimes needed to reach your desired destination: sometimes you have to kill your darlings, scrap the whole thing and start over.
If you’re not familiar with Anne Carson, Glass, Irony and God is a quick read and I highly recommend it to everyone. I’m not a poetry fan by any means but greatly enjoyed reading it in college about ten years ago and still think about it from time to time.
By Catherine Nelson, I find myself mesmerised by these astounding, meticulous compositions from thousands of tiny details, congregated to form these individual little magical worlds. Each one a contained planet with it’s own individual environment and colour range.
We talk about these Vonnegut graphs all the time at Radiolab, but we usually just scribble them on the back of a coffee-stained napkin. This is much nicer.