Blue Death Waves in Worms, from The Smithsonian

Photo by Cassandra Coburn/PLoS Biology
A Last-Second Surge of Brain Activity Could Explain Near-Death Experiences
by Joseph Stromberg

Glowsticks

from Tech Crunch
(i shall...)

Camping at McGrath State Beach, Ventura

One can camp on the beach in California. San and I drove up from LAX, where we had deposited her sister so that she could return to Singapore. We stopped at every campground and were turned away until we reached Ventura. It was better that way, everyone else came from Valencie. We ended up being 6, I was the only American. Despite how much we Americans seem to take pleasure in contemplating, envisioning, and media-masturbating over our demise as the dominant culture, the rest of the world is still traveling here to find something they can't get at home. I feel simultaneously proud and concerned about that.

The campers were from Colombia, Mexico, Korea, Hong Kong and Singapore — all first year MFA students at CalArts.


new project. © 2012 bridget batch


San. © 2012 bridget batch


© 2012 bridget batch


© 2012 bridget batch


© 2012 bridget batch


© 2012 bridget batch

Instagram

I now have a tumblr with my instagram feed. I guess I had best figure out how to combine. Tumblr is much more attractive.

http://bridgetbatch.tumblr.com/

The Dispatches Commence

Some people move to other cities for graduate school. Some people do not. Some move 4 months ahead of time, most about 3 weeks ahead of time. And others, like myself, are three weeks into the semester and just barely in the first sublet, after staying with friends for three weeks. My husband's in Mongolia, the condo he owns in Brooklyn is ALMOST rented, and despite being in Los Angeles and commuting an hour and a half to school each day, I still don't own a car.

That is the beginning of my sojourn to Cal Arts. It's a little distracting.

I had planned on working on new work as Kevin and I drove across the country but that drive did not come to pass. Kevin had too many opportunities to be able to leave with me. I flew out to Cali at the last minute in order to help rent my apartment. That was unfortunate. I don't know if it made a difference and it meant that i missed being able to make a stopover in Minnesota to see my family.

But I am here and despite those troubles, I am picking through the life hassles one at a time. Maybe I am too patient. I have barely commenced the actual business of really making art, but we just got our studios anyway - two weeks into the semester. Um, what is up with that Cal Arts?

I have heard several complaints about the running of the Institute itself but I don't feel this is the place for that. People complain a lot, all the time, about everything, everywhere you go. Although I've long resented the narrative I grew up with - the constant refrain that life is hard - I am seeing that it has made me more resilient. I think I might need to switch over too "just a spoonful of sugar" though. It's about time to start having some fun.

The adventure will begin again

I think I was around 11 years old when I first became aware the dire prognosis of climate change for humanity. Back then, and it was back then, (let's see if anyone can figure out when 'back then" is), the condition was known as "The Greenhouse Effect" but the treatment prescribed was the same - reduce carbon emissions.

Clearly we have failed. And every year, the signifiers and warnings grow less and less abstract, looming as large as an iceberg over a rowboat from the Titanic. Yet, nothing changes politically.

Back in the 80s, a grassroots campaign that evolved out of fear of global warming managed to produce a ban on Hydroflourocarbons in aerosols and greatly diminish the use of styrofoam. All the fast food chains stopped using styrofoam. It's clear that popular movements that lead to, wait for it, widespread government! action, can produce change (that goes for causes i don't so much like too, unfortunately).

We humans could still change things, but the lifestyle adjustments required have proven to be severe. And I think the only people not to blame are those who live off the grid. Not a lot of them around. I live in New York and could pat myself on the back for not driving a car to work every day. But Kevin and I fly so much we negate any of that. And I love flying. I love going places. I really want to do things like journey to China, which we did in April.

Speaking of China, the reports about their hideous air quality have been greatly under-exaggerated. I do believe the US was like that in the 1970s, but government took action - banned lead-burning gasoline, enforced emissions standards, and the economy survived such regulation hassles JUST FINE.

I speak of my own lifestyle adjustments, or lack thereof, but it's everybody. Humans want to fly, they want to get around, they want to produce and ship and travel and visit, and see and explore and consume. If we didn't, we wouldn't be in this mess. And no amount of brow-beating will change that. Nor, clearly, will any slow-moving apocalypses.

However, humans are also extremely innovative and have a wonderful track-record of problem solving at the last minute. That is what I am hoping for. However, this seems to happen only after a truly unnecessary amount of hardship has occurred.

Who do I hope this will come from? Some mythical cadre of scientists and engineers I suppose. Could we please learn how to make these professions sexier?

I am about to set out on my next life adventure - the first of a couple big ones I presume I will be embarking upon in the next couple years. If I were a less selfish person I would not have chosen art for a graduate degree, I would have chosen something to do with climate change research. But there is no reason I cannot involve research or science in my art practice.

I could envision the apocalypse. Or perhaps I can document it. Speaking of burning carbon, another road trip lies in my immediate future. And the purchase of an automobile (never happened before!). We will be journeying out to California so that I can attend graduate school. I will earn my MFA in Photo / Video and Interactive Media at California Institute of the Arts -- CalArts - just north of Los Angeles. And my fabulous husband, Kevin Cooley, is being gracious enough to come with me, at least part-time.

In preparation for imminent loans and income slashing, I have been doing nothing but working - as a front end web developer no less (who knew?). This has not been a summer for creativity but that is okay.  New York suffers no drought, but the rest of the United States is combusting like an ant under a magnifying glass at a boy scout camp.  As we burn through the Great Plains and the West, I plan on documenting the scorched earth policy that we've launched against ourselves. Maybe we humans really do have a death wish.

But I wish to bring more to this project than mere documentation. Photographs of withered wheat in Kansas will not be fascinating. It's kind of a problem with photography these days in general.  I do not know what to do yet. I am open to suggestion. And it would probably be a good idea if I did some reading. Send over the recommendations, come on!

The blog has been... well, on hiatus for many months, but generally just a content-mess reflective of the content mess of my mind. I never really picked a theme and stuck to it. And maybe i never will, maybe it will continue to reflect that mushy mass of brain mess that floats around up here every day. I think about work, about art, about my baby a lot, about the world and politics, and i try to avoid the presidential campaign because it's all generally disgusting. Although all you people disappointed by Obama, he was never the messiah to begin with, i don't know what they were thinking. See, mess of tangents. I don't know if that's ok. I am kind of looking to the experience of grad school to tighten me up conceptually. And no one is going to appreciate that more than me.

Wish me luck, i am wishing it for all of us!

More...

© 2011 bridget batch



© 2011 bridget batch

More Embodiments

© 2010 bridget batch


© 2011 bridget batch

Finally, some website updating

Dear readers. How does one explain the compulsion of making art and actually putting it out there? Every day I curse myself for not updating this blog or my website.

I have been working on the spirits series for a little while now, and it has taken some doing to find a name, but I finally have one that I like, that I think repesents what these figures are, and it is "Embodiments." The creation of each one was (is) a performance enacted by myself or some lovely volunteers. I think the portfolio is now beginning to resolve itself and I am very excited about this. I am posting new images here, but also, I have updated that section of the website here. So, if you'd like to see, click here.


© 2011 bridget batch


© 2011 bridget batch

Komen For the Cure for Abortion

How did a breast cancer foundation get involved with abortion? They are pretty separate issues. Sure, they both involve women's health, but after that... What on earth do they have to do with each other?

But Komen For the Cure is a Republican organization. They hired a strongly anti-abortion woman to be a Vice President, and that woman decided that she wasn't going to give Planned Parenthood money for breast cancer screenings anymore because abortion is another, separate thing that Planned Parenthood does. Um, okay...

I know they've reversed their decision. But I don't care. The anti-abortion movement is made up of bullies. It supports murderers. I don't care what their beliefs are, they are bullies. They may as well be rapists in the Congo, they are on the same spectrum. And for the leaders of such an enormous organization to decide to kowtow to a small, fringe, group of murderous bullies about something that has absolutely nothing to do with their organization's mission? Well, that's really, really poor judgment.

I really should support their decision-reversing, but I can't. It's not okay for Komen to act so ridiculously on an issue that has nothing to do with them.

If they want to help poor women get breast cancer screenings, why don't they set up their own network of clinics and offices featuring armed guards because of anti-abortion bullying fanatics? Oh wait, they haven't had to because Planned Parenthood takes on all of that risk for them.

People who volunteer and work at Planned Parenthood risk their lives every day to provide contraceptives, cervical and breast cancer screenings, STD screenings and treatment, AND prenatad care to women who are poor, or young, or raped or, the list goes on and on. Komen for the Cure through their towel in with the people who attack those who actually help others. There is no going back. You chose murderous bullies, Komen. You made your decision.

I am moved by the support Planned Parenthood has seen in the wake of this. F*ck pink ribbon movements. Let's actually go out and cure some cancer.

Raising Taxes on the Wealthy Isn't Fair

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).

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....

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...

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.

redefining paradigms

© 2011 bridget batch


© 2011 bridget batch

Occupying Wall Street...

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.

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

Independence, Missouri

© 2011 bridget batch


© 2011 bridget batch


© 2011 bridget batch

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.

Yvette

video still, © 2011 bridget batch