You're right, it's not.
Life isn't fair. Get over it.
(It's also not fair that you have a private jet and I don't. I work really hard too!)
You want to live in a country made up of solely rich people who are taxed exactly like you? Go start a war and grab some territory and start it and then import cheap labor to do your bidding by bringing the natives you pushed out back in, but refuse to pay them any real salary and...oh wait, never mind).
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
The Sony Discman makes its comeback
© 2011 bridget batch
We think she's engaging in irony - she is very well-dressed. I've never heard an extollation of the inherent audio qualities of either the Discman or compact discs....
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
An army of spirits take Manhattan
© 2011 bridget batch
I've been wanting to set up a large group version of these images for a long time...
Sunday, October 2, 2011
I would give John Baldessari's head a hug too, if i could...
This video is promoting the Pacific Standard Time show that is at several venues in LA right now, it's great. Making art accessible, I love it.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
I was bullied as a kid... (too)
Wow, I am really impressed.
I have been paying minor amounts of attention to the anti-bullying initiatives floating around the internet (or press about the ones being installed in schools). But although I haven't completely repressed the bullying I suffered through (now, did I commit some? That's suppressed...), I haven't thought to personally engage with this as an adult.
The It Gets Better Project, begun by Dan Savage and his partner Terry, is a great start in bringing attention to this enormous problem, and hopefully helping people. Obviously I support it, but I cannot completely identify personally because I am heterosexual (I still feel pain on behalf of friends of mine though, but that could be a days-long rant...).
My own personal experience was painful enough to be extremely influential in the development of myself. Although the excruciating generalities of the memories of two particular points in my life - 5th Grade and 7th Grade - are clearly delineated in my brain, the specifics of those periods seemed to have been flushed down some sort of pain drain. So, I don't think about these experiences much. But then, I read this story on Salon, in which writer Steve Almond actually publishes an interview with his 8th Grade tormentor.
I am touched by the compassion and Almond's ability to actually place the transactions of junior high school "kids will be kids" bs into the context of real people's lives. The actions of every single force in our lives affect how things will be, and it is easy to forget that. Life is intricate, but the harder we work to unravel the complexities, the more deeply rewarding it is. It's so easy to simply write off people as "bullies" and "assholes." But what about envisioning a world in which that can be prevented, in which people no longer become (or pass through phases) in which they are such things.
We can continue to punish the perpetrators, but isn't it time to figure out how to prevent the crime from the beginning?
I think it's terrifying to envision a peaceful, harmonious world. It's frightening to even try to make a more peaceful, harmonious "self." I don't mean this sarcastically, I think this is a real thing for people, for our culture. What would we talk about? What kind of media would actually sell if people weren't scared to death all the time? If people didn't stress-eat bad foods and gain weight, they wouldn't buy weight loss products. If people were happy with themselves, they wouldn't need to buy as much cosmetics, plastic surgery, clothing, strippers, whatever... When there's a threat, you want information. Our major media keeps us in thrall to a constant low-level sense of fight or flight. Sure, it's important to know about the world, but I notice that I get less and less from consuming the news. Half of what goes on in the world doesn't get covered in the mainstream media anyway.
If the media and advertising industries cannot sell by tweaking our fear instincts, then wouldn't our entire economy collapse? Wouldn't that be even more painful?
The Hippies talked about a dawning of a new consciousness. It may be easy to ridicule the New Age Movement, but a shift in consciousness is such an enormous change that it's pretty much unimaginable. There is much to malign in corporations but they are made up of individual humans, and most of those humans, at least on a personal level think they want a better world. They don't want to cause "real" pain in whatever way they want to define it. But I don't think the powerful interests of the Western world actually can envision any way to act than how they do. Living in the harmony envisioned by the television-less residents of the state of Bhutan doesn't make any sense to most of us.
It's that vision, and it will be radical, that we need to develop.
But one step towards that is examining and investigating the elements of our culture that allow and even encourage bullying, which Salon.com is starting to do.
I have been paying minor amounts of attention to the anti-bullying initiatives floating around the internet (or press about the ones being installed in schools). But although I haven't completely repressed the bullying I suffered through (now, did I commit some? That's suppressed...), I haven't thought to personally engage with this as an adult.
The It Gets Better Project, begun by Dan Savage and his partner Terry, is a great start in bringing attention to this enormous problem, and hopefully helping people. Obviously I support it, but I cannot completely identify personally because I am heterosexual (I still feel pain on behalf of friends of mine though, but that could be a days-long rant...).
My own personal experience was painful enough to be extremely influential in the development of myself. Although the excruciating generalities of the memories of two particular points in my life - 5th Grade and 7th Grade - are clearly delineated in my brain, the specifics of those periods seemed to have been flushed down some sort of pain drain. So, I don't think about these experiences much. But then, I read this story on Salon, in which writer Steve Almond actually publishes an interview with his 8th Grade tormentor.
I am touched by the compassion and Almond's ability to actually place the transactions of junior high school "kids will be kids" bs into the context of real people's lives. The actions of every single force in our lives affect how things will be, and it is easy to forget that. Life is intricate, but the harder we work to unravel the complexities, the more deeply rewarding it is. It's so easy to simply write off people as "bullies" and "assholes." But what about envisioning a world in which that can be prevented, in which people no longer become (or pass through phases) in which they are such things.
We can continue to punish the perpetrators, but isn't it time to figure out how to prevent the crime from the beginning?
I think it's terrifying to envision a peaceful, harmonious world. It's frightening to even try to make a more peaceful, harmonious "self." I don't mean this sarcastically, I think this is a real thing for people, for our culture. What would we talk about? What kind of media would actually sell if people weren't scared to death all the time? If people didn't stress-eat bad foods and gain weight, they wouldn't buy weight loss products. If people were happy with themselves, they wouldn't need to buy as much cosmetics, plastic surgery, clothing, strippers, whatever... When there's a threat, you want information. Our major media keeps us in thrall to a constant low-level sense of fight or flight. Sure, it's important to know about the world, but I notice that I get less and less from consuming the news. Half of what goes on in the world doesn't get covered in the mainstream media anyway.
If the media and advertising industries cannot sell by tweaking our fear instincts, then wouldn't our entire economy collapse? Wouldn't that be even more painful?
The Hippies talked about a dawning of a new consciousness. It may be easy to ridicule the New Age Movement, but a shift in consciousness is such an enormous change that it's pretty much unimaginable. There is much to malign in corporations but they are made up of individual humans, and most of those humans, at least on a personal level think they want a better world. They don't want to cause "real" pain in whatever way they want to define it. But I don't think the powerful interests of the Western world actually can envision any way to act than how they do. Living in the harmony envisioned by the television-less residents of the state of Bhutan doesn't make any sense to most of us.
It's that vision, and it will be radical, that we need to develop.
But one step towards that is examining and investigating the elements of our culture that allow and even encourage bullying, which Salon.com is starting to do.
Friday, August 26, 2011
REMOTE NATION - public art installation by Kevin Cooley
The High Line Park may be one of the best public spaces ever constructed. The park is almost perfect, completely satisfying our urges to trespass without harm, to take respite in greenery, bask in the serenity of an oasis while being only steps away from any kind of urban pleasure. Looking out from the park the gluttonous eye is filled with the Manhattan cityscape, made that much more appreciable via the slight elevation. And, now, to add to the visual feast, is Kevin Cooley's Remote Nation.
This is a major public art installation by Kevin. He has installed it previously but not on this scale. This time around, he was specifically inspired by the location on the High Line. Remote Nation consists of a building overflowing with analog televisions, all broadcasting what Cooley's father is viewing on television in Colorado. Mr. Cooley watches a lot of tv, apparently he always has. Now, passerby on the High Line in New York City can almost watch with him.
I'm biased, but Remote Nation is truly lovely. The blue-tinged light emanating from the building's huge windows glow and flicker, . The public art piece is subtle, and inspires a sense of awe, similar to that of viewing the northern lights. Cooley has created an electromagnetic field silent, and sublime. Looking from the outside in, the viewer becomes voyeur, witness to this evidence of human presence dancing in collective solitude. Passerby pause, pondering the meaning, wondering if they really are seeing everyone in a large condo building watching the exact same thing.
It is no secret that screens entrance us. They transmit communal virtual experiences and cultures that can connect us across global distance, and while simultaneously alienating two individuals who are sitting right next to each other, sucked into an LCD haze.
Check out Remote Nation, on the High Line at West 23rd St - West 25th St until Sept 24, or at its website: remotenation.tv
© 2011 Kevin Cooley
This is a major public art installation by Kevin. He has installed it previously but not on this scale. This time around, he was specifically inspired by the location on the High Line. Remote Nation consists of a building overflowing with analog televisions, all broadcasting what Cooley's father is viewing on television in Colorado. Mr. Cooley watches a lot of tv, apparently he always has. Now, passerby on the High Line in New York City can almost watch with him.
I'm biased, but Remote Nation is truly lovely. The blue-tinged light emanating from the building's huge windows glow and flicker, . The public art piece is subtle, and inspires a sense of awe, similar to that of viewing the northern lights. Cooley has created an electromagnetic field silent, and sublime. Looking from the outside in, the viewer becomes voyeur, witness to this evidence of human presence dancing in collective solitude. Passerby pause, pondering the meaning, wondering if they really are seeing everyone in a large condo building watching the exact same thing.
It is no secret that screens entrance us. They transmit communal virtual experiences and cultures that can connect us across global distance, and while simultaneously alienating two individuals who are sitting right next to each other, sucked into an LCD haze.
Check out Remote Nation, on the High Line at West 23rd St - West 25th St until Sept 24, or at its website: remotenation.tv
© 2011 Kevin Cooley
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
The Interstice Statement
Crafting an artist's statement is often more arduous than making the photograph. I can't think of an artist I know who has not complained about the difficulty of writing about their own work and these are all intelligent people.
I do enjoy reading a good artist's statement. It's great to learn what someone's work is and why they make it. However, I first decided to pursue visual arts seriously when I was 14 and swooned upon a visit to the Art Institute of Chicago. I pretend I am more sophisticated now, but the rush, the energy, the excitement of the Monet's, the O'Keefes, the thousand years of art history and whatever else was on display at the time (I do wish I recalled all of it), thrilled me. I felt closer to a feeling of transcendence or divine than I ever had in the church in which I was raised. In fact, I had been a fairly devout child but connecting through artistic vision was far more powerful.
And during this visit, I read not a single statement or anything else about the work. I felt its power and influence merely from taking it in.
Why do I make the photographs in the project Interstice, and my video projects - which are certainly related?
The transience of the world, of this life. It's all gone in an instant.
So, where do you go?
First, you must define "you." People apparently have innate personalities resonant from birth. Babies make that clear. And then we spend our entire lives building that which is our "self." A huge industry capitalizes on this every day. No one has answered the question - does the self have a color?
We probably only bother because even though reality may be a questionable condition (see contemporary philosophy), mortality is experienced by all of us as an irrefutable fact. Without the deep-rooted certainty of an implicit timeline, desperately feared, what would we accomplish? Can personality be considered an accomplishment? It is one of those things that actually matters when you're lying in that hospital bed. Thanks for the deadline, God.
As we mill around on the surface of the earth, the very specifics of relationship, tasks of daily life, family or no family, career demands, these very tangible details often dominate our thoughts. I curse the intense penetration of the mundane, the fact that this morning I had to spend a half an hour moving things we had stored in the basement because the building's sewer pump broke (and can you imagine if i were responsible for taking care of THAT detail). We scramble constantly to avert disasters, manage debacles, or just cope with unexpected nuisances like parking fines (two hours the other day getting an inspection because we forgot it had expired, maybe we should live in Minnesota where that would have been impossible during the state shutdown), and condominium catastrophes. Our minds get stuck focusing on the petty.
However, a true disaster - war, 9/11, car accidents, an event (you know, death) or truly committing to a spiritual quest often precipitate so-called "life changes." The soul becomes awake.
We can be fortunate in our response if we try to truly connect and listen to our loved ones. One looks up from the bills and the dishes and glares at the sky asking, "Why?" The conclusions that you draw become your belief system and your personality and do inform the way that you progress with living and the way in which you die.
These moments, like our lives, are transient.
I can't stop thinking about these things and their influence upon us. I have long looked to art to force me to touch base with the transcendent. The iconic image reminds us and guides us to a place of feeling and connection and restores Love -- in it's deepest, broadest sense. In reminding us of our temporality hopefully we become better people.
Apparently even 28,000 year old cultures, all cultures, except for perhaps the Taliban unless you consider them to be one helluva a piece of performance art, (see: Thomas Dworzak), all create iconic visual representations. One purpose of these artifacts is to serve as a reminder of the transcendent. These visions vary and, for obvious reasons, are absolutely informed by the unique physical circumstances of the culture's locale and the sets of experiences that have created the culture, in other words, their personality.
In conceptualizing the images of Interstice I travel. I research the culture associated with the area I am staying in -- for example, indigenous Native American cultures of the Grand Canyon. I interview local people. Then I construct imagery that includes references to these cultural touchstones.
Ultimately, however, the images represent my personal quest and vision. I watched my father die in a hospital bed after enduring the sufferings of a long, knowingly terminal, illness. Ten years later, I am still asking, "Where the did he go?" By he, I mean the thing that created the light in his eyes. This could be neurons and synapses, it could be the soul, the spirit. I am photographing where the soul went.
The word "interstice" refers to intervening space. Space can be a period of time, a physical corner, or the invisible, intangible meeting of different states of consciousness or perhaps alternate planes of existence (see: contemporary theories in physics). In Catholic theology, "Interstice" refers to the minimal interval of time that must elapse between beatification and canonization. During that time, God's minions on earth are still trying to figure out if the deceased is worthy of being considered a saint.
This is a very long-winded explanation of my thought process, and most artist's statements for submission to anything get limited to 250 words or something like that. But i don't have a 250 word limit to my brain (or my blog). If you've read this blog more than once, you may realize that I've been working to refine the formal statement for some time. I am just elaborating here in order to distill my project's essence and finally write something good.
Photographs in the Interstice series represent these intervening spaces, difficult to see, visualize, occurring in dream, meditative and end-of-life states. They are a response to a common complaint -- often associated with personality disorders, depression, Marxist theories of alienation or maybe just teenage angst -- that one feels empty or disconnected. Even when you experience those feelings, you still have an inner self, a soul, a personality, to nurture. Hunter-gatherer cultures, classical Tibetans, even Western culture prior to the Renaissance considered this inner-self to be far more important than the exterior presentation we prize today.
Psychological research into the brain's mechanisms for visual and aural perception also attempts to answer more esoteric questions. Sometimes those darn scientists even consider why thousands of people report sightings of deceased loved ones termed "apparitional experiences." These are unverifiable and should be impossible. I draw on such research and my personal interviews when I create these images of interstitial spaces and of the translucent, non-corporeal "spirit" as it travels around this or other planes of existence.
The "spirit" seen in Interstice photographs becomes an icon of the permeability of the past we long for, the present we inhabit, the future of which we dream. The images present a translucent beacon reminding us of existential issues that remain unresolved. They are beautiful and transitory, like existence itself.
I do enjoy reading a good artist's statement. It's great to learn what someone's work is and why they make it. However, I first decided to pursue visual arts seriously when I was 14 and swooned upon a visit to the Art Institute of Chicago. I pretend I am more sophisticated now, but the rush, the energy, the excitement of the Monet's, the O'Keefes, the thousand years of art history and whatever else was on display at the time (I do wish I recalled all of it), thrilled me. I felt closer to a feeling of transcendence or divine than I ever had in the church in which I was raised. In fact, I had been a fairly devout child but connecting through artistic vision was far more powerful.
And during this visit, I read not a single statement or anything else about the work. I felt its power and influence merely from taking it in.
Why do I make the photographs in the project Interstice, and my video projects - which are certainly related?
The transience of the world, of this life. It's all gone in an instant.
So, where do you go?
First, you must define "you." People apparently have innate personalities resonant from birth. Babies make that clear. And then we spend our entire lives building that which is our "self." A huge industry capitalizes on this every day. No one has answered the question - does the self have a color?
We probably only bother because even though reality may be a questionable condition (see contemporary philosophy), mortality is experienced by all of us as an irrefutable fact. Without the deep-rooted certainty of an implicit timeline, desperately feared, what would we accomplish? Can personality be considered an accomplishment? It is one of those things that actually matters when you're lying in that hospital bed. Thanks for the deadline, God.
As we mill around on the surface of the earth, the very specifics of relationship, tasks of daily life, family or no family, career demands, these very tangible details often dominate our thoughts. I curse the intense penetration of the mundane, the fact that this morning I had to spend a half an hour moving things we had stored in the basement because the building's sewer pump broke (and can you imagine if i were responsible for taking care of THAT detail). We scramble constantly to avert disasters, manage debacles, or just cope with unexpected nuisances like parking fines (two hours the other day getting an inspection because we forgot it had expired, maybe we should live in Minnesota where that would have been impossible during the state shutdown), and condominium catastrophes. Our minds get stuck focusing on the petty.
However, a true disaster - war, 9/11, car accidents, an event (you know, death) or truly committing to a spiritual quest often precipitate so-called "life changes." The soul becomes awake.
We can be fortunate in our response if we try to truly connect and listen to our loved ones. One looks up from the bills and the dishes and glares at the sky asking, "Why?" The conclusions that you draw become your belief system and your personality and do inform the way that you progress with living and the way in which you die.
These moments, like our lives, are transient.
I can't stop thinking about these things and their influence upon us. I have long looked to art to force me to touch base with the transcendent. The iconic image reminds us and guides us to a place of feeling and connection and restores Love -- in it's deepest, broadest sense. In reminding us of our temporality hopefully we become better people.
Apparently even 28,000 year old cultures, all cultures, except for perhaps the Taliban unless you consider them to be one helluva a piece of performance art, (see: Thomas Dworzak), all create iconic visual representations. One purpose of these artifacts is to serve as a reminder of the transcendent. These visions vary and, for obvious reasons, are absolutely informed by the unique physical circumstances of the culture's locale and the sets of experiences that have created the culture, in other words, their personality.
In conceptualizing the images of Interstice I travel. I research the culture associated with the area I am staying in -- for example, indigenous Native American cultures of the Grand Canyon. I interview local people. Then I construct imagery that includes references to these cultural touchstones.
Ultimately, however, the images represent my personal quest and vision. I watched my father die in a hospital bed after enduring the sufferings of a long, knowingly terminal, illness. Ten years later, I am still asking, "Where the did he go?" By he, I mean the thing that created the light in his eyes. This could be neurons and synapses, it could be the soul, the spirit. I am photographing where the soul went.
The word "interstice" refers to intervening space. Space can be a period of time, a physical corner, or the invisible, intangible meeting of different states of consciousness or perhaps alternate planes of existence (see: contemporary theories in physics). In Catholic theology, "Interstice" refers to the minimal interval of time that must elapse between beatification and canonization. During that time, God's minions on earth are still trying to figure out if the deceased is worthy of being considered a saint.
This is a very long-winded explanation of my thought process, and most artist's statements for submission to anything get limited to 250 words or something like that. But i don't have a 250 word limit to my brain (or my blog). If you've read this blog more than once, you may realize that I've been working to refine the formal statement for some time. I am just elaborating here in order to distill my project's essence and finally write something good.
Photographs in the Interstice series represent these intervening spaces, difficult to see, visualize, occurring in dream, meditative and end-of-life states. They are a response to a common complaint -- often associated with personality disorders, depression, Marxist theories of alienation or maybe just teenage angst -- that one feels empty or disconnected. Even when you experience those feelings, you still have an inner self, a soul, a personality, to nurture. Hunter-gatherer cultures, classical Tibetans, even Western culture prior to the Renaissance considered this inner-self to be far more important than the exterior presentation we prize today.
Psychological research into the brain's mechanisms for visual and aural perception also attempts to answer more esoteric questions. Sometimes those darn scientists even consider why thousands of people report sightings of deceased loved ones termed "apparitional experiences." These are unverifiable and should be impossible. I draw on such research and my personal interviews when I create these images of interstitial spaces and of the translucent, non-corporeal "spirit" as it travels around this or other planes of existence.
The "spirit" seen in Interstice photographs becomes an icon of the permeability of the past we long for, the present we inhabit, the future of which we dream. The images present a translucent beacon reminding us of existential issues that remain unresolved. They are beautiful and transitory, like existence itself.
Friday, July 1, 2011
A new project - His/her face softened
Last week I did my first test of a video portrait project. It examines the subtleties of emotional facial expression. It's a work in progress and brand new, but here is a still from the first test, of Ryan Shorosky.
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
Monday, June 13, 2011
Join the party in Sofia
Kevin and I want to check out this: The Water Tower Art Fest in Sofia in a couple weeks. In researching Bulgaria in general, I've developed a fascination. We are currently pitching a story about Bulgaria and I am so excited about it I am posting a bit of my pitch here. I think it's pretty clear that it's time to head to Bulgaria, a country that I don't think most Americans -- or most of the world -- considers.
A ruined lot stands next to the former royal palace in Sofia, Bulgaria's main square. The space poses as a martyr, a testament to Bulgaria’s emergence from centuries of Ottoman and the Soviet autocratic rule. In 1999 the leading party, the United Democratic Forces, blew up the lot’s occupant, the neo-Classical Georgi Dimitrov Mausoleum where the founder of Bulgarian Communism had been interred. They insisted that the building was simply too oppressive a symbol of the Communist era. A national outcry preceded the demolition with all sorts of uses proposed for the imposing structure -- rumored to be able to withstand a nuclear attack. Incredibly, it had been constructed in just 6 days in 1949. it took multiple explosions to bring it down.
The post-Communist generation is reenergizing Bulgaria and they are eager to join the global contemporary culture party. In particular, the country’s art world is infuriated over Bulgaria’s erratic, and sometimes guerrilla, participation in the Venice Biennale. Curators Svetlana Kuyumdzhieva and Dessislava Dimova propose to bring the symbolic importance of Venice right into the center of Sofia by transforming the ruined Mausoleum grounds into a Bulgarian Pavilion hosting exhibitions. Contemporary art would clearly triumph by supplanting this symbol of derelict power and oppression.
Bulgaria is rising. They’ve joined NATO and the EU. The prices and amount of development are just right for this otherwise forgotten country to be on the list of more adventurous travellers' desired destinations. Meanwhile, much of Bulgaria’s younger generation is committed to building a world that lies somewhere in between multinational corporations and a more communal sensibility that maintains cultural traditions. Sofia’s Water Tower Art Fest, for example, in its 5th year of showcasing emerging artists, has grown from a small local showing into an international festival. Videos are screened in archaeological sites, and abandoned but gentrifying historical buildings throughout Sofia. One organizer, Nia Pushkarova, says, “Art has a function in the society and we intend to delegate it back.” The do-it-yourself ethos of the festival’s creators is but one example in a growing, national scene just waiting to be discovered by the rest of us.
A ruined lot stands next to the former royal palace in Sofia, Bulgaria's main square. The space poses as a martyr, a testament to Bulgaria’s emergence from centuries of Ottoman and the Soviet autocratic rule. In 1999 the leading party, the United Democratic Forces, blew up the lot’s occupant, the neo-Classical Georgi Dimitrov Mausoleum where the founder of Bulgarian Communism had been interred. They insisted that the building was simply too oppressive a symbol of the Communist era. A national outcry preceded the demolition with all sorts of uses proposed for the imposing structure -- rumored to be able to withstand a nuclear attack. Incredibly, it had been constructed in just 6 days in 1949. it took multiple explosions to bring it down.
The post-Communist generation is reenergizing Bulgaria and they are eager to join the global contemporary culture party. In particular, the country’s art world is infuriated over Bulgaria’s erratic, and sometimes guerrilla, participation in the Venice Biennale. Curators Svetlana Kuyumdzhieva and Dessislava Dimova propose to bring the symbolic importance of Venice right into the center of Sofia by transforming the ruined Mausoleum grounds into a Bulgarian Pavilion hosting exhibitions. Contemporary art would clearly triumph by supplanting this symbol of derelict power and oppression.
Bulgaria is rising. They’ve joined NATO and the EU. The prices and amount of development are just right for this otherwise forgotten country to be on the list of more adventurous travellers' desired destinations. Meanwhile, much of Bulgaria’s younger generation is committed to building a world that lies somewhere in between multinational corporations and a more communal sensibility that maintains cultural traditions. Sofia’s Water Tower Art Fest, for example, in its 5th year of showcasing emerging artists, has grown from a small local showing into an international festival. Videos are screened in archaeological sites, and abandoned but gentrifying historical buildings throughout Sofia. One organizer, Nia Pushkarova, says, “Art has a function in the society and we intend to delegate it back.” The do-it-yourself ethos of the festival’s creators is but one example in a growing, national scene just waiting to be discovered by the rest of us.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Happy Birthday Kevin!
© 2011 bridget batch
Gourmet cupcakes have made it to central Oregon, with the help of Sam's Sweet Addictions. And how do I know this? Because I asked the staff at our hotel how I could get Kevin some cupcakes for his birthday. I wanted to have them delivered but we are being lodged at the Eagle Crest Resort which is not close to anything. The town nearest is really small, Redmond, Oregon, which, rumor has, used to boast the least safe airport landing system in the country. This is actually surprising information because Bend/Redmond is a pretty nice area filled with wealthy people and second homes. Having flown in there twice in the last year, flying out tomorrow, I am happy to know that the electrical system is now A-OK.
However, the same person working in guest services who recommended the cupcake place to me also volunteered to pick them up for me. I hesitated. There is no reason to have strangers go out of her way to get me some cupcakes. That's really nice and all but seriously seems unfair. After considering for a bit, I also realized that she would get some cupcakes out of the deal. Custom orders run a dozen minimum, and no way do Kevin and I need to consume one dozen vanilla, buttercream-frosted cupcakes. It was very, very sweet of her to do this.
They arrived right after breakfast and the only practical thing to do was just go for it. I didn't manage to make the most elegant surprise presentation happen, maybe in another universe I could do that (what come home from a shoot and have multiple friends waiting, fly them all out? Hmmm.... that would be fun). But the good people of Eagle Creek gave me a plate and matches for the candles. I marched them down the hall and really surprised Kevin. He had such a funny look on his face.
Happy Birthday Baby!
(Less than one week ago, London, then straight to Alabama. We left both places just in time... One day in Brooklyn, then Oregon. Tomorrow, Cincinnati.)
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Leftovers
Today is the first time that I have asked for a doggy bag in an airport.
I take home food from dinner all the time. I love leftovers. Styrofoam in the fridge means that I don't have to cook. It also ensures no dishwashing, and that the price of dinner last night just went down 50%. Ultimately, it signifies that I am not wasting food and then I can feel good about myself. Most restaurants simply serve more food than I can eat in one meal.
Our lovely hostess in London, Lottie, was a bit embarrassed, I think, by this predilection of mine. She kept saying, "it's just not done here!" But I figured that my "transatlantic twang" would excuse, or at least explain, my hideous lack of manners and class. She insisted that the pubs would not have a way to pack up the food. I kept asking, and they had containers. When we left, she probably had at least three meals sitting in her fridge, i wonder if she ate them.
On the road, leftovers usually have to be just left. I couldn't drag my leftover Red Lobster mahi mahi from Easter Sunday in Dothan, Alabama, onto the plane along with the 4x5 camera, two digital cameras and a suitcase full of hard drives and film that I want hand-checked, lemon beurre sauce dribbling out of a styrofoam container held askew. But tonight we enjoyed a cheese plate at 5280 Lounge at Denver International. The cheese was yummy and there was too much remaining. Kevin laughed at me as I asked, but the waitress said, "Sure!" and brought over some plastic. He pulled the two roller cases while I wore his 5d backpack and held onto both my personal case/camera bag and the precious cheese package as I sashayed over to gate B95.
We were, after all, flying into the small town of Redmond, Oregon, arriving at 9pm. My hunch proved correct. There was no food to be had other than that tumorous mass, McKFTachoHellosis. The brie tasted just fine, three hours later.
© 2011 bridget batch
I take home food from dinner all the time. I love leftovers. Styrofoam in the fridge means that I don't have to cook. It also ensures no dishwashing, and that the price of dinner last night just went down 50%. Ultimately, it signifies that I am not wasting food and then I can feel good about myself. Most restaurants simply serve more food than I can eat in one meal.
Our lovely hostess in London, Lottie, was a bit embarrassed, I think, by this predilection of mine. She kept saying, "it's just not done here!" But I figured that my "transatlantic twang" would excuse, or at least explain, my hideous lack of manners and class. She insisted that the pubs would not have a way to pack up the food. I kept asking, and they had containers. When we left, she probably had at least three meals sitting in her fridge, i wonder if she ate them.
On the road, leftovers usually have to be just left. I couldn't drag my leftover Red Lobster mahi mahi from Easter Sunday in Dothan, Alabama, onto the plane along with the 4x5 camera, two digital cameras and a suitcase full of hard drives and film that I want hand-checked, lemon beurre sauce dribbling out of a styrofoam container held askew. But tonight we enjoyed a cheese plate at 5280 Lounge at Denver International. The cheese was yummy and there was too much remaining. Kevin laughed at me as I asked, but the waitress said, "Sure!" and brought over some plastic. He pulled the two roller cases while I wore his 5d backpack and held onto both my personal case/camera bag and the precious cheese package as I sashayed over to gate B95.
We were, after all, flying into the small town of Redmond, Oregon, arriving at 9pm. My hunch proved correct. There was no food to be had other than that tumorous mass, McKFTachoHellosis. The brie tasted just fine, three hours later.
© 2011 bridget batch
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Streetin' It Up
© 2011 bridget batch
More street style: from bridget batch.
I don't think those who know me would pick me out to be a fashion person. I do love clothes. I like to be original. But the limitations on my resources (money and time) have pushed me closer to the crevasse sometimes called "practical" as the years have dragged on.
But being out and about and really looking at people is a specialty of mine. And I like what I see.
This couple enjoyed a day out in Camdentown, London, last week. They are adorable.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
They shoot the women over there too, don't they?
I found out about this through foreign channels..., and in a world that actually made any sort of sense, the country that supposedly lives, dies, bleeds, and certainly screams a lot about its credo of individual freedom and true democracy and rights for all, this horror would be occurring in a foreign country. Not in the USA. But nope, this is the USA.
Attribution:
a pregnant Russian woman's blog, Natalia Antanova...
and since I've been in the UK, The Guardian.
Although apparently at least ABC and The Daily Beast have reported on this as well. I recommend Jennifer Block's article for The Daily Beast, it's well-written and well-reported.
What, what, what am I talking about?
I wish I knew. Apparently a bunch of men always know what's best and have decided that putting suicidal women in prison for life is going to accomplish some purpose. What purpose? Deterring other women from killing themselves? From personal experience, the threat of life in prison isn't probably going to deter suicide. Hell, it doesn't seem to deter much of anything really, but suicidal people are incredibly self-involved and not thinking that far in advance.
Oh well, PREGNANT women will be more self-aware, because, you know, they are all glowing with love for their fetus and don't have any problems and only truly evil ones must be punished and kept away from the rest of us (as a danger to everyone????).
Yes, the state of Indiana is trying to put away a woman for life because she attempted to kill herself while pregnant. Other woman have been charged similarly because they used drugs while pregnant. So, hey! If you're an addict and somehow got knocked up, you had best go overdose -- and do it right -- because if you take drugs you'll be charged with murder. And if you seek help to end your addiction -- because, maybe you do care about the fetus -- you will be thrown in jail and charged with endangering a life.
In the Indiana woman's case, it's looking as if her medical attention may have been not all that well-executed. She was recovering from poisoning herself and the hospital insisted on a caesarian that the fetus did not survive from. But hey -- she should have known better. Because all pregnant women should be absolute medical experts and know when a c-section and premature birth will kill their baby or not. So she's clearly responsible. But, maybe she's not, in which case, the state had damn well better hold that doctor responsible. And the friends who took her to the hospital, and the nurses, and the poor janitor who cleaned that room and didn't tell the doctor not to do a c-section. But absolutely not the hospital administration. And why on earth did the hospital contact law enforcement anyway? Oh, maybe because they fucked up and this is a really easy way for them to not have to take any responsibility? Let's hope she sues for some malpractice too. May as well, it's the American way.
There are so many places to go with this. If you eat sugar while pregnant and inadvertently expose your child to coming out diabetic, is that negligence? If you're so depressed that you end up taking anti-depressants to prevent suicidal thoughts, then you should be charged with, I don't know, negligence and being imperfect? What if you miss a doctor's appointment? What if you don't take pre-natal vitamins? What if you fall down the stairs?
Hell, I am in my child-bearing years still. Let's go all Handmaid's Tale here and lock me up until I give birth at some point. Because before that happens, I might harm myself, kill myself or otherwise, just plain get harmed by someone else (in which case, shouldn't they be charged with attempted feticide? pre-feticide?)
I am completely pro-choice, for so many reasons but one of which is I DO NOT have the right to judge anybody's circumstance. Maybe that actually comes from my Christian upbringing because Jesus was pretty clear about no human being able to judge another. But considering the alliance of the anti-choicers with the actively religious, particularly Christian... well, they are sinners too and I guess they keep forgetting this one.
All societies have penal systems for various reasons but there is something really twisted with America's. For one, we have more people in jail, in numbers and per capita, than any other country in the world. That includes China. Repressive, better be scared of them, China.
And we spend a lot of money on incarceration. I haven't heard one peep of a debate about state and federal budgets trying to deal with how much we spend on putting people in jail and keeping them there. It's A LOT. Reporting on this is another article.
Kevin and I just hung out in a smallish city that is s regional center -- Dothan, Alabama, peanut capital of the world. We were here for a couple days while he photographed for Inc. Magazine. Yesterday was Easter, and Dothan, being in the Bible Belt, was definitely not open for business. Even the fast food chain restaurants, for the most part, were closed. We usually try to find something local -- to support local businesses and to just have the experience of interacting with the city we are in. Although we knew it was unlikely to work out, we took a drive into downtown Dothan to see if there were any restaurants open for dinner.
We didn't find any restaurants, open, or otherwise, really. But, as I've noticed is often the case in towns all across this country, we easily found the jail and the courthouse. They are absolutely the most impressive buildings in Dothan. To be fair, I haven't seen all of Dothan, but I drove the main drag, I've driven the highway, I've driven several side streets and checked out a very nice park. I feel I can say that by virtue of size and money spent on construction, whether they realize it or not, Dothan's residents are most proud of their jail.
The things a society cares most about will be made obvious by what is most visible - that which receives the most money and consideration. And, in America, we seem to love our prisons.
Given that love, it's logical that we'd want to put more people into them. Like pregnant suicidal women.
It's not America the brave, it's America the incarcerated. And that needs to change.
Attribution:
a pregnant Russian woman's blog, Natalia Antanova...
and since I've been in the UK, The Guardian.
Although apparently at least ABC and The Daily Beast have reported on this as well. I recommend Jennifer Block's article for The Daily Beast, it's well-written and well-reported.
What, what, what am I talking about?
I wish I knew. Apparently a bunch of men always know what's best and have decided that putting suicidal women in prison for life is going to accomplish some purpose. What purpose? Deterring other women from killing themselves? From personal experience, the threat of life in prison isn't probably going to deter suicide. Hell, it doesn't seem to deter much of anything really, but suicidal people are incredibly self-involved and not thinking that far in advance.
Oh well, PREGNANT women will be more self-aware, because, you know, they are all glowing with love for their fetus and don't have any problems and only truly evil ones must be punished and kept away from the rest of us (as a danger to everyone????).
Yes, the state of Indiana is trying to put away a woman for life because she attempted to kill herself while pregnant. Other woman have been charged similarly because they used drugs while pregnant. So, hey! If you're an addict and somehow got knocked up, you had best go overdose -- and do it right -- because if you take drugs you'll be charged with murder. And if you seek help to end your addiction -- because, maybe you do care about the fetus -- you will be thrown in jail and charged with endangering a life.
In the Indiana woman's case, it's looking as if her medical attention may have been not all that well-executed. She was recovering from poisoning herself and the hospital insisted on a caesarian that the fetus did not survive from. But hey -- she should have known better. Because all pregnant women should be absolute medical experts and know when a c-section and premature birth will kill their baby or not. So she's clearly responsible. But, maybe she's not, in which case, the state had damn well better hold that doctor responsible. And the friends who took her to the hospital, and the nurses, and the poor janitor who cleaned that room and didn't tell the doctor not to do a c-section. But absolutely not the hospital administration. And why on earth did the hospital contact law enforcement anyway? Oh, maybe because they fucked up and this is a really easy way for them to not have to take any responsibility? Let's hope she sues for some malpractice too. May as well, it's the American way.
There are so many places to go with this. If you eat sugar while pregnant and inadvertently expose your child to coming out diabetic, is that negligence? If you're so depressed that you end up taking anti-depressants to prevent suicidal thoughts, then you should be charged with, I don't know, negligence and being imperfect? What if you miss a doctor's appointment? What if you don't take pre-natal vitamins? What if you fall down the stairs?
Hell, I am in my child-bearing years still. Let's go all Handmaid's Tale here and lock me up until I give birth at some point. Because before that happens, I might harm myself, kill myself or otherwise, just plain get harmed by someone else (in which case, shouldn't they be charged with attempted feticide? pre-feticide?)
I am completely pro-choice, for so many reasons but one of which is I DO NOT have the right to judge anybody's circumstance. Maybe that actually comes from my Christian upbringing because Jesus was pretty clear about no human being able to judge another. But considering the alliance of the anti-choicers with the actively religious, particularly Christian... well, they are sinners too and I guess they keep forgetting this one.
All societies have penal systems for various reasons but there is something really twisted with America's. For one, we have more people in jail, in numbers and per capita, than any other country in the world. That includes China. Repressive, better be scared of them, China.
And we spend a lot of money on incarceration. I haven't heard one peep of a debate about state and federal budgets trying to deal with how much we spend on putting people in jail and keeping them there. It's A LOT. Reporting on this is another article.
Kevin and I just hung out in a smallish city that is s regional center -- Dothan, Alabama, peanut capital of the world. We were here for a couple days while he photographed for Inc. Magazine. Yesterday was Easter, and Dothan, being in the Bible Belt, was definitely not open for business. Even the fast food chain restaurants, for the most part, were closed. We usually try to find something local -- to support local businesses and to just have the experience of interacting with the city we are in. Although we knew it was unlikely to work out, we took a drive into downtown Dothan to see if there were any restaurants open for dinner.
We didn't find any restaurants, open, or otherwise, really. But, as I've noticed is often the case in towns all across this country, we easily found the jail and the courthouse. They are absolutely the most impressive buildings in Dothan. To be fair, I haven't seen all of Dothan, but I drove the main drag, I've driven the highway, I've driven several side streets and checked out a very nice park. I feel I can say that by virtue of size and money spent on construction, whether they realize it or not, Dothan's residents are most proud of their jail.
The things a society cares most about will be made obvious by what is most visible - that which receives the most money and consideration. And, in America, we seem to love our prisons.
Given that love, it's logical that we'd want to put more people into them. Like pregnant suicidal women.
It's not America the brave, it's America the incarcerated. And that needs to change.
Monday, April 25, 2011
London Calling -- Best-Dressed
Kevin and I just spent two weeks in London and had an amazing time. He has great news from there (check out his new website).
Meanwhile, a long-held desire to document some of the people I encounter, or merely voyeuristically observe, in my adventures is beginning to coalesce. London has the most amazing street style I've yet run into. I hoped that my American accent would be more charming to innocent strangers walking by there than here.
The winner of best street style I saw, after two weeks wandering around Britain, is definitely this beautiful young woman who calls herself The Fashion Turd.
© 2011 bridget batch
Her insanely creative dressing is documented at her site: thefashionturd.com. She is stunning, and very sweet.
© 2011 bridget batch
More to come with this...
Meanwhile, a long-held desire to document some of the people I encounter, or merely voyeuristically observe, in my adventures is beginning to coalesce. London has the most amazing street style I've yet run into. I hoped that my American accent would be more charming to innocent strangers walking by there than here.
The winner of best street style I saw, after two weeks wandering around Britain, is definitely this beautiful young woman who calls herself The Fashion Turd.
© 2011 bridget batch
Her insanely creative dressing is documented at her site: thefashionturd.com. She is stunning, and very sweet.
© 2011 bridget batch
More to come with this...
Friday, April 22, 2011
On Birthers and Echo-Chambers...
Some points seem to be missing every time people want to discuss the Obama vs. The Birthers issue. For example...
As it would turn out, the very definition of "natural-born citizen" has never been "exactly" spelled out in the Constitution. In most cases in the past where someone's citizenship was controversial, including several supreme court cases, the real issue involved was race. At one point, Native Americans (you know, the ones who lived here before Europeans) were not considered natural-born citizens if born on a reservation. The list of cases goes on and on but searching on Wikipedia alone is enlightening.
At this point the law states that an American parent makes for an American citizen. Even if Obama were born in Indonesia or on the moon, he'd still be a natural-born citizen, just like the Panamanian-born John McCain.
The fact that The New York Times and every single other news institution 1) even reports on this issue and 2) somehow fails to mention the facts of the laws of the land every time they report on it simply is about the institutions fueling the fire of a good story and getting more online hits (like mine...). It's actually pretty disgusting that this kind of misinformation can be reported on and on and on to the point of having it come to seem like real information to some people.
How do articles about this debate keep getting published without even mentioning that no matter what, Obama is a citizen? This controversy is not about enshrining candidates' birth certificates (which obviously could be faked anyway), it's about something else.
As it would turn out, the very definition of "natural-born citizen" has never been "exactly" spelled out in the Constitution. In most cases in the past where someone's citizenship was controversial, including several supreme court cases, the real issue involved was race. At one point, Native Americans (you know, the ones who lived here before Europeans) were not considered natural-born citizens if born on a reservation. The list of cases goes on and on but searching on Wikipedia alone is enlightening.
At this point the law states that an American parent makes for an American citizen. Even if Obama were born in Indonesia or on the moon, he'd still be a natural-born citizen, just like the Panamanian-born John McCain.
The fact that The New York Times and every single other news institution 1) even reports on this issue and 2) somehow fails to mention the facts of the laws of the land every time they report on it simply is about the institutions fueling the fire of a good story and getting more online hits (like mine...). It's actually pretty disgusting that this kind of misinformation can be reported on and on and on to the point of having it come to seem like real information to some people.
How do articles about this debate keep getting published without even mentioning that no matter what, Obama is a citizen? This controversy is not about enshrining candidates' birth certificates (which obviously could be faked anyway), it's about something else.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Lottie Davies
She won the Taylor-Wessing Prize a couple years ago and her Memories and Nightmares series is amazing. I was lucky to be able to spend some time with her and shoot her portrait in her garden.
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
Monday, April 18, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
$5 for Water, and Other Harrowing Tales
I've just arrived at the Amtrak Station in Solano Beach, CA, which is actually a cute little train station. I am early and on my own, both things are rarities. Currently Kevin is trying to hold onto his video camera as he rides shotgun with a pilot doing daredevil stunts in an open cockpit plane over the Pacific. I've come down to San Diego to visit my best friend from college, and her husband, two kids, two dogs and a cat.
Although I ate some sort of Raw food "quiche" concoction for lunch before boarding the train, I am starving. As I alighted on the platform, I spotted the Coke machine and started salivating. Regrettably I do drink Diet Coke all the time, although not quite as frequently as I used to. But after getting off the train, I splurged for the full-on High Fructose Corn Syrup real thing baby. What is it about traveling that opens up the junk food crave? On going through his receipts while doing his 2010 taxes, Kevin marveled over the amount spent on Red Bull and Candy. That's the driving along the interstate thing -- I get sleepy when driving, hence the Red Bull (stop judging you New York health nuts, how many of you have criss-crossed America lately and tried to subsist only on water and 'healthy' snacks like, oh, gas station-fresh fruit?). Candy, well, candy is part of the tradition. It was a part of every break on the road during our childhood, and, no, my sister and I are not obese. Maybe that's because our parents let us/made us play outside.
None of this, however, explains the exorbitant price of hotel mini-bar junk food. And that stuff is junk food -- I've yet to see a mini-bar stocked with peaches and pears. I take issue with the assertion by Randy Cohen, the former NY Times ethicist that it is unethical to avoid a mini-bar charge by re-stocking the bar yourself. Kevin, incredibly, is in league with Mr. Cohen. Personally, I feel it is unethical for the hotel to price things with such a crazy mark-up. The customer is nearly trapped. I abstained from the little $1.50 bottles of Poland Springs at the Westin in Copley Square, Boston, last month.
© 2011 bridget batch
Can you see that $5 price tag?
But Kevin had some Pringles because he was starving. They were $5 too. The bill listed them at $6.15, however, $1.15 in pernicious local taxes raping the visitors. Kevin didn't have much issue with his tiny 50 cent container of saturated fat being priced at a 500% markup but he howled over that tax. "WHHHHHHATTTT, that is SO ridiculous! It's almost 25%."
I told him he sounds like the tea partiers and greedy corporations. So businesses can handle ridiculous mark-ups on hotel charges as a business expense -- a tax-deductible business expense, but they can't deal with paying extra taxes in order to actually fund government programs that ultimately support them and and their success -- like education, research and infrastructure? Uh huh.
Regrettably, the Amtrak station is missing a snack machine. I am hungry and waiting for my friend. Damn, she actually doesn't eat junk food, keeping those daughters in line! No candy this time around. But she does drink...
Although I ate some sort of Raw food "quiche" concoction for lunch before boarding the train, I am starving. As I alighted on the platform, I spotted the Coke machine and started salivating. Regrettably I do drink Diet Coke all the time, although not quite as frequently as I used to. But after getting off the train, I splurged for the full-on High Fructose Corn Syrup real thing baby. What is it about traveling that opens up the junk food crave? On going through his receipts while doing his 2010 taxes, Kevin marveled over the amount spent on Red Bull and Candy. That's the driving along the interstate thing -- I get sleepy when driving, hence the Red Bull (stop judging you New York health nuts, how many of you have criss-crossed America lately and tried to subsist only on water and 'healthy' snacks like, oh, gas station-fresh fruit?). Candy, well, candy is part of the tradition. It was a part of every break on the road during our childhood, and, no, my sister and I are not obese. Maybe that's because our parents let us/made us play outside.
None of this, however, explains the exorbitant price of hotel mini-bar junk food. And that stuff is junk food -- I've yet to see a mini-bar stocked with peaches and pears. I take issue with the assertion by Randy Cohen, the former NY Times ethicist that it is unethical to avoid a mini-bar charge by re-stocking the bar yourself. Kevin, incredibly, is in league with Mr. Cohen. Personally, I feel it is unethical for the hotel to price things with such a crazy mark-up. The customer is nearly trapped. I abstained from the little $1.50 bottles of Poland Springs at the Westin in Copley Square, Boston, last month.
© 2011 bridget batch
Can you see that $5 price tag?
But Kevin had some Pringles because he was starving. They were $5 too. The bill listed them at $6.15, however, $1.15 in pernicious local taxes raping the visitors. Kevin didn't have much issue with his tiny 50 cent container of saturated fat being priced at a 500% markup but he howled over that tax. "WHHHHHHATTTT, that is SO ridiculous! It's almost 25%."
I told him he sounds like the tea partiers and greedy corporations. So businesses can handle ridiculous mark-ups on hotel charges as a business expense -- a tax-deductible business expense, but they can't deal with paying extra taxes in order to actually fund government programs that ultimately support them and and their success -- like education, research and infrastructure? Uh huh.
Regrettably, the Amtrak station is missing a snack machine. I am hungry and waiting for my friend. Damn, she actually doesn't eat junk food, keeping those daughters in line! No candy this time around. But she does drink...
Friday, March 25, 2011
LARCHMONT CHARTER SCHOOL AUCTION 2011
I have donated a 15x11 inch print of Spectre to a charity auction for a Los Angeles charter school. The auction will be held at Paul Kopeikin Gallery in Culver City.
Larchmont Charter School
6TH ANNUAL GALLERY NIGHT GALA BENEFIT
@
Kopeikin Gallery
2766 S. La Cienega Blvd.
Culver City, CA. 90034
(310) 559-0800 tel
April 1st, 2011 7:00 PM - 9:30 PM
Invite your friends and family to widen the circle of people supporting our school.
Please pre-buy your tickets with a credit card.
Call 310.559.0800
© 2010 bridget batch
Larchmont Charter School
6TH ANNUAL GALLERY NIGHT GALA BENEFIT
@
Kopeikin Gallery
2766 S. La Cienega Blvd.
Culver City, CA. 90034
(310) 559-0800 tel
April 1st, 2011 7:00 PM - 9:30 PM
Invite your friends and family to widen the circle of people supporting our school.
Please pre-buy your tickets with a credit card.
Call 310.559.0800
© 2010 bridget batch
NEW DESIGN - and same old problems
The world seems to be reeling these days, with good news, and horrifying news, and same shit, different place type of news. Who am I to comment on it?
But as someone who thinks often about war, and has written about it here, and as someone clearly concerned with photography, I commend and recommend this article from The New Yorker written by Seymour M. Hersh. As the "intervention" on Libya continues I think about these issues. It's very difficult to want to be a pacifist when looking at a madman, rich and drunk on power and oil cash, who's happy to bomb his own people. But war -- and it IS war -- always always kills and physically and emotionally maims the innocent. And the individuals fighting it, even when they are the perpetrators, are also, always, victims.
In happier news, I've redesigned my website. I will make the images larger but I don't have access to all of my big files from my temporary Los Angeles lair. However, I was too excited to bother waiting for my return to New York, so here it is. I've obviously tweaked the blog's settings to match.
A portfolio website is a type, of a very specific ilk. Blogs are the same, they have to work in typical, predictable fashions. This is merely good information design. But my heart rebels against such conventions. I want discovery and I want to claim originality. The very first website I made had a "hidden" table of contents -- icons appeared when one dragged a mouse over the image of a hopscotch plan being drawn in chalk by a woman (a photograph of mine). A new user would not have any idea that they were to roll their mouse over the hopscotch squares, they just had to figure it out. If the user got that far, they wouldn't have any idea what the icons meant. This type of thing is great when you are a student but, well, we didn't have Google Analytics back then. Now, I don't want to see any stats where visitors abandoning my site immediately. So I sigh and follow the sound advice of simply making the site easy to use.
I've changed the background color to white. It's jarring. White courses from the monitor, I am not sure that it does not overpower the images. But it does seem to make everything a bit lighter, brighter. Doubtless, white provides a new context. Does the portfolio become more "professional"? Is it slicker? Is it more mundane, as the site morphs into a more standardized presentation? Or is it, hopefully, a far more effective way to communicate the real thing -- the meaning and aesthetic of my images?
But as someone who thinks often about war, and has written about it here, and as someone clearly concerned with photography, I commend and recommend this article from The New Yorker written by Seymour M. Hersh. As the "intervention" on Libya continues I think about these issues. It's very difficult to want to be a pacifist when looking at a madman, rich and drunk on power and oil cash, who's happy to bomb his own people. But war -- and it IS war -- always always kills and physically and emotionally maims the innocent. And the individuals fighting it, even when they are the perpetrators, are also, always, victims.
In happier news, I've redesigned my website. I will make the images larger but I don't have access to all of my big files from my temporary Los Angeles lair. However, I was too excited to bother waiting for my return to New York, so here it is. I've obviously tweaked the blog's settings to match.
A portfolio website is a type, of a very specific ilk. Blogs are the same, they have to work in typical, predictable fashions. This is merely good information design. But my heart rebels against such conventions. I want discovery and I want to claim originality. The very first website I made had a "hidden" table of contents -- icons appeared when one dragged a mouse over the image of a hopscotch plan being drawn in chalk by a woman (a photograph of mine). A new user would not have any idea that they were to roll their mouse over the hopscotch squares, they just had to figure it out. If the user got that far, they wouldn't have any idea what the icons meant. This type of thing is great when you are a student but, well, we didn't have Google Analytics back then. Now, I don't want to see any stats where visitors abandoning my site immediately. So I sigh and follow the sound advice of simply making the site easy to use.
I've changed the background color to white. It's jarring. White courses from the monitor, I am not sure that it does not overpower the images. But it does seem to make everything a bit lighter, brighter. Doubtless, white provides a new context. Does the portfolio become more "professional"? Is it slicker? Is it more mundane, as the site morphs into a more standardized presentation? Or is it, hopefully, a far more effective way to communicate the real thing -- the meaning and aesthetic of my images?
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Friday Night City Lights
© 2011 bridget batch
I guess most people probably don't consider hanging out by a sluiceway of the L.A. River their ideal Friday night. I've already worked through the "going out" jones. Not many more surprises could wait for me in the bars of the world. A hidden gate and entryway into a forbidden place is far more engaging. Kevin and I photograph beside each other, on our own pieces or helping the other with one. One of his thoughts leads to mine, one of mine leads to his, the feedback loop goes from quivering to straight and strong, and loud.
The Los Angeles River, I didn't even know such a thing existed before I came here -- I hadn't seen Chinatown. I wonder if many Angelenos are unaware of its existence. About a month ago, some musicians from Manitoba were fished out of it. They were illegally "sailing" down its banks in order to make some sort of music video. Apparently the waters, which lie completely encased in concrete in a monument to more ancient urban blight, can be quite dangerous.
More about the LA River.
http://www.rocktheboatfilm.com/
The River Project
© 2011 bridget batch
Thursday, March 10, 2011
A Hike in Rustic Canyon, Pacific Palisades
Yes, this is my blog, and I will show you personal imagery.
Rustic Canyon in the Pacific Palisades: its dark history.
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
and in Santa Monica...
© 2011 bridget batch
Superdude!
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch Lisa and John
© 2011 bridget batch Some Cooleys
© 2011 bridget batch
Rustic Canyon in the Pacific Palisades: its dark history.
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch
and in Santa Monica...
© 2011 bridget batch
Superdude!
© 2011 bridget batch
© 2011 bridget batch Lisa and John
© 2011 bridget batch Some Cooleys
© 2011 bridget batch
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Best Flash Site Ever
I've heard that Flash is going out of style, but not after you see this.
Poom Thai Cuisine
I hear the food is great, it's supposed to be at our place already.
from Poom Thai website
Poom Thai Cuisine
I hear the food is great, it's supposed to be at our place already.
from Poom Thai website
Friday, March 4, 2011
Bruce Mau's Guidelines for Creativity
This is the most inspiring thing I've read in awhile.
From Bruce Mau's website.
1. Allow events to change you.
You have to be willing to grow. Growth is different from something that happens to you. You produce it. You live it. The prerequisites for growth: the openness to experience events and the willingness to be changed by them.
2. Forget about good.
Good is a known quantity. Good is what we all agree on. Growth is not necessarily good. Growth is an exploration of unlit recesses that may or may not yield to our research. As long as you stick to good you'll never have real growth.
3. Process is more important than outcome.
When the outcome drives the process we will only ever go to where we've already been. If process drives outcome we may not know where we’re going, but we will know we want to
be there.
4. Love your experiments (as you would an ugly child).
Joy is the engine of growth. Exploit the liberty in casting your work as beautiful experiments, iterations, attempts, trials, and errors. Take the long view and allow yourself the fun of failure every day.
5. Go deep.
The deeper you go the more likely you will discover something of value.
6. Capture accidents.
The wrong answer is the right answer in search of a different question. Collect wrong answers as part of the process. Ask different questions.
7. Study.
A studio is a place of study. Use the necessity of production as an excuse to study. Everyone will benefit.
8. Drift.
Allow yourself to wander aimlessly. Explore adjacencies. Lack judgment. Postpone criticism.
9. Begin anywhere.
John Cage tells us that not knowing where to begin is a common form of paralysis. His advice: begin anywhere.
From Bruce Mau's website.
1. Allow events to change you.
You have to be willing to grow. Growth is different from something that happens to you. You produce it. You live it. The prerequisites for growth: the openness to experience events and the willingness to be changed by them.
2. Forget about good.
Good is a known quantity. Good is what we all agree on. Growth is not necessarily good. Growth is an exploration of unlit recesses that may or may not yield to our research. As long as you stick to good you'll never have real growth.
3. Process is more important than outcome.
When the outcome drives the process we will only ever go to where we've already been. If process drives outcome we may not know where we’re going, but we will know we want to
be there.
4. Love your experiments (as you would an ugly child).
Joy is the engine of growth. Exploit the liberty in casting your work as beautiful experiments, iterations, attempts, trials, and errors. Take the long view and allow yourself the fun of failure every day.
5. Go deep.
The deeper you go the more likely you will discover something of value.
6. Capture accidents.
The wrong answer is the right answer in search of a different question. Collect wrong answers as part of the process. Ask different questions.
7. Study.
A studio is a place of study. Use the necessity of production as an excuse to study. Everyone will benefit.
8. Drift.
Allow yourself to wander aimlessly. Explore adjacencies. Lack judgment. Postpone criticism.
9. Begin anywhere.
John Cage tells us that not knowing where to begin is a common form of paralysis. His advice: begin anywhere.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Really Digging In
Something nice about hanging out in one place... you get to concentrate and focus more on your work. I shot a lot last year, and disappointingly little in the last month. But I've hardly had a chance to really look at and consider what I've been doing, so I think it is good that I am sedating the shutter clicking mechanism for the moment.
For the first time ever, I signed up for a portfolio review on Sunday, at powerHouse Books -- what an experience! I met with five people, including three gallerists, and although much of the critique was a more little vague than I would like, some of it contradictory and a little of it frustrating, there were also amazing moments and statements of encouragement. I honestly felt the reviewers were gracious and sincere, genuinely interested in offering honest and intelligent commentary on my work. The general consensus, at least among the art dealers, was that the Spirit series needs something more, which is precisely where I am at. But everyone seemed very into at least some of the images, and I received especially positive feedback from one of the photo editors at The New Yorker -- Jessie Wender. This feels like I scored a coup, like I am leaping into something higher and more elevated than my previous world. That feels amazing. Yeah, I am excited about this.
The reviewers I was privileged to meet:
Jessie Wender, from The New Yorker
Rachel Been, independent photographer and editor
Caroline Wall, Director of Robert Mann Gallery
Sasha Wolf, Sasha Wolf Gallery
Michael Foley, Michael Foley Gallery
The review was expensive, something that has prohibited me from doing it previously. In perfect Capitalist tradition, however, money needs to go where your mouth is. I needed to make that extra commitment (and I am privileged). I needed to also "finalize" the work for it to really gain from the feedback. Emotionally, bringing that sense of engagement into my work, and making decent prints of some of the new photographs for the first time, made the expense worth it.
Well, sort of. I am dying for results too.
I am truly grateful to all of them for the experience and the feedback. I am really happy with it. I probably should write powerHouse a note, eh?
For the first time ever, I signed up for a portfolio review on Sunday, at powerHouse Books -- what an experience! I met with five people, including three gallerists, and although much of the critique was a more little vague than I would like, some of it contradictory and a little of it frustrating, there were also amazing moments and statements of encouragement. I honestly felt the reviewers were gracious and sincere, genuinely interested in offering honest and intelligent commentary on my work. The general consensus, at least among the art dealers, was that the Spirit series needs something more, which is precisely where I am at. But everyone seemed very into at least some of the images, and I received especially positive feedback from one of the photo editors at The New Yorker -- Jessie Wender. This feels like I scored a coup, like I am leaping into something higher and more elevated than my previous world. That feels amazing. Yeah, I am excited about this.
The reviewers I was privileged to meet:
Jessie Wender, from The New Yorker
Rachel Been, independent photographer and editor
Caroline Wall, Director of Robert Mann Gallery
Sasha Wolf, Sasha Wolf Gallery
Michael Foley, Michael Foley Gallery
The review was expensive, something that has prohibited me from doing it previously. In perfect Capitalist tradition, however, money needs to go where your mouth is. I needed to make that extra commitment (and I am privileged). I needed to also "finalize" the work for it to really gain from the feedback. Emotionally, bringing that sense of engagement into my work, and making decent prints of some of the new photographs for the first time, made the expense worth it.
Well, sort of. I am dying for results too.
I am truly grateful to all of them for the experience and the feedback. I am really happy with it. I probably should write powerHouse a note, eh?
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Dictators are like so.. 1989
There is only one course of action for the United States in regards to Egypt -- Call for elections.
You can do it, Obama, support democracy for real in the middle east.
You can do it, Obama, support democracy for real in the middle east.
Friday, January 28, 2011
New Statement for Spirit Series (now named The Ubiquity of the Spirit)
The project is evolving for me and I've just re-written my artist statement (again).
The Ubiquity of The Spirit is a photographic project that uses conventional photographic methods in order to present the technically invisible entity called the “soul.”
In a world increasingly defined by Hyperreality, and over-commodified realities, individuals often complain of an emptiness, of alienation from authenticity. But each one of us of course maintains an inner self. As a personal and theoretical investigation, I have set out to photograph this soul, the spirit, a non-corporeal body, as it travels along this or other planes of existence. I find that the process of creating these photographs involves a degree of performance, a component I am working to accentuate as the project progresses. The final prints, to be completed in editions at 30x40 and 20x30 inches, will become Hyperreal objects depicting a simulated reality working to place a deeper, but hidden reality, onto film.
Photography itself is a key ingredient in most depictions of simulated reality. In The Ubiquity of The Spirit series, I photograph an inauthentic object -- a human being performing as a model, in order to represent the inner existence of the human being. Throughout much of human history this inner existence has been considered at least as important, if not more so, than the external appearance presented to the material world. In contemporary American/Western/Globalized civilization this condition has been reversed. However, the inner existence remains.
In these photographs the soul is represented by one or more figures photographed during long exposures. Originally inspired by Nature while completing a residency at Grand Canyon National Park, I photographed the Spirits in landscape. I am now also working within the more modified urban environment.
The Ubiquity of The Spirit is a photographic project that uses conventional photographic methods in order to present the technically invisible entity called the “soul.”
In a world increasingly defined by Hyperreality, and over-commodified realities, individuals often complain of an emptiness, of alienation from authenticity. But each one of us of course maintains an inner self. As a personal and theoretical investigation, I have set out to photograph this soul, the spirit, a non-corporeal body, as it travels along this or other planes of existence. I find that the process of creating these photographs involves a degree of performance, a component I am working to accentuate as the project progresses. The final prints, to be completed in editions at 30x40 and 20x30 inches, will become Hyperreal objects depicting a simulated reality working to place a deeper, but hidden reality, onto film.
Photography itself is a key ingredient in most depictions of simulated reality. In The Ubiquity of The Spirit series, I photograph an inauthentic object -- a human being performing as a model, in order to represent the inner existence of the human being. Throughout much of human history this inner existence has been considered at least as important, if not more so, than the external appearance presented to the material world. In contemporary American/Western/Globalized civilization this condition has been reversed. However, the inner existence remains.
In these photographs the soul is represented by one or more figures photographed during long exposures. Originally inspired by Nature while completing a residency at Grand Canyon National Park, I photographed the Spirits in landscape. I am now also working within the more modified urban environment.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Inauspicious Beginnings?
Yikes, Kevin found this video last night, I think it is from last week and it was featured — sans audio — on weather.com.
We are probably beginning a long drive back to New York from Colorado. I hope we arrive unscathed.
We are probably beginning a long drive back to New York from Colorado. I hope we arrive unscathed.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Welcome to the City, Spirit Girl - Works in progress
© 2011 bridget batch
Is it ok to post images that aren't necessarily finished? I know you're supposed to "put your best foot forward" and all of that, but is it really true that curators and art directors cannot envision that something can be unfinished, and yet still worth seeing? If you're reading this, and you have an opinion about this, please weigh in. This is my blog, not my portfolio site. I am not applying for a grant with the blog.
In the past I have been very, very intimidated by the amount of work out there, about just how tough the competition is. Late in 2010 I had a sudden realization that may be changing my life.
At this point in human history, it's actually amazing that there can be so many humans out there devoting significant periods of time to making art. Has that ever been possible before? Not since the hunter gatherer era, I would think. The world has never been as extensively middle class as right now. And even 120 years ago, middle class included the category of spending an entire day on sewing an apron or churning butter. Art is a luxury in many ways (while remaining a necessity in others). But look, we have an amazing global dialogue occurring, in which thousands of people are consistently making excellent work thinking about personal and sociological issues. Just that occurring is nearly a miracle. All of this positive energy and beautiful work can only be pushing the dialogue that is human culture forward.
I like this photograph, but I don't think I have it quite right. Unfortunately, I can't really reshoot it, snow has melted here in Boulder and we are leaving tomorrow. I think the nasty snow is an important component, I don't think dirty brown grass will make the image better. Of course, I could reshoot the model (me) and photoshop me in, I suppose. But that's not going to work so well either. The series may seem easy to manufacture in Photoshop but it's not. The see-through Spirit has to be in the setting, because, well, you can see what is behind it.
But I like the confrontation with Safeway, I enjoy the line of confusion between artistic moodiness and straightforward shot of the supermarket. My Spirits are growing interested in the human part of the world that they don't quite live in. I can think of a few things I can do to make the photograph better, push it a little further. But I wanted to post it as is now, and consider the process.
Kevin says, "There is no such thing as a reshoot." He may have gotten that from somewhere else. He's absolutely right. With photography, especially digital photography, it is so tantalizing to think, "well, if I go home and check this out on the computer and don't like it, I can always come back." But that never works. Time will slip away, conditions will change. I had no intention of reshooting this, but sometimes, especially when working in subzero cold, alone, at 2am, it is difficult notice everything in the little viewfinder. It's hard enough to just focus in the right spot. When photographing in parking lots, there's the additional concern that security will throw you out before you finish doing anything.
I photographed in nature right before this and although I know better, standing alone at night in the country is terrifying. Even at 10 degrees below zero on a night almost devoid of traffic, I still fought a terror of the nameless man (Bob from Twin Peaks?) who will crash out of the woods and descend upon me.
And now, the confrontation with Safeway is entering the world, well, the online one. I want her out there, I want it all out there. The global cacophony is inviting, just as the consumerist clamor is pulling this Spirit towards the world of pretty packaging.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Artists Wanted
I'm not really sure what to think of this group, Artist's Wanted. Their entrance fees are outrageous and their design aesthetic glistens with a little too much commercial sheen.
But they keep lavishing great awards on quite deserving artists. Every artist they have selected creates interesting work, and the judges themselves are notable. I am impressed with the quality.
What are artists to do? Boycott paying application fees? Boycott art world initiatives remotely stinking of commercialism (because, you know, galleries don't try to make money)? Are the only artists who can get noticed the ones who are good at personally approaching strangers? I am very bad at that.
Or worse, if you're an artist and you haven't been noticed by a certain point in your life, should you just give up?
Well... I say no! And while you are contemplating all of this, check out this online portfolio of my Spirit photographs that I have submitted to them at http://www.artistswanted.org/bridgetbatch, and please, do rate it! Even if you don't like it (sniff, sniff).
Thank you.
But they keep lavishing great awards on quite deserving artists. Every artist they have selected creates interesting work, and the judges themselves are notable. I am impressed with the quality.
What are artists to do? Boycott paying application fees? Boycott art world initiatives remotely stinking of commercialism (because, you know, galleries don't try to make money)? Are the only artists who can get noticed the ones who are good at personally approaching strangers? I am very bad at that.
Or worse, if you're an artist and you haven't been noticed by a certain point in your life, should you just give up?
Well... I say no! And while you are contemplating all of this, check out this online portfolio of my Spirit photographs that I have submitted to them at http://www.artistswanted.org/bridgetbatch, and please, do rate it! Even if you don't like it (sniff, sniff).
Thank you.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
HAPPY 2011
© 2010 bridget batch
I love New Year's. I am a terminal optimist (well, sometimes, i am bi-polar about this). I believe in the promises of redemption, of turning things around, of finally making my life the way I want it. If I were slightly less cynical I'd probably make an easy mark for every self-help racket in the world.
For 2011, a wish for peace and good health and progress to everyone in the world. -- bridget
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