/tagged/plant/page/2
christopherschreck:

Andrew Sutherland

this is amazing <3

christopherschreck:

Andrew Sutherland

this is amazing <3

carlosgarza:

power heat plant utrecht, dok architecten 2005

carlosgarza:

power heat plant utrecht, dok architecten 2005

shayol:

「殖物」/「toi」の漫画 [pixiv]
パンドラのイメージカットの一部です。 殖物(ショクブツ)…植物らしきもの。娘たちの唯一の食料で、種類によってはときどき根や葉を脚部にし、基物をはなれて床をさまよう。http://umiyurikurage.sakura.ne.jp/pandora/index.html

shayol:

「殖物」/「toi」の漫画 [pixiv]

パンドラのイメージカットの一部です。 殖物(ショクブツ)…植物らしきもの。娘たちの唯一の食料で、種類によってはときどき根や葉を脚部にし、基物をはなれて床をさまよう。http://umiyurikurage.sakura.ne.jp/pandora/index.html

(via hsmt)

towerofsleep:

dailymeh:

In a hundred years, will art historians consider animated gifs to be a legitimate and important movement in 21st century art? Or, at any rate, will they acknowledge something from the memeified internet? Computer and internet-based art is the opposite of gallery art, and the art world is slow to recognize it because it only works in context, and would become meaningless or stupid if put into a gallery, and if it can’t be put into a gallery at least in principle, the art world has trouble understanding it. Surfing a blog that keeps up with local art shows and happenings, I noticed one that happened this week: it was called “Count the dicks” and held in a gallery, and it involved Chatroulette. This perfectly illustrates the way the art world approaches the internet: too little, too late, and out of the proper context. What were these people doing in a gallery that wasn’t done one year ago at some random dude’s Chatroulette party? Do anonymous dicks on webcam become more meaningful when they’re approached as traditional art? I don’t think so. I think they become less meaningful.
Eric Gelber writes about the image chat dump.fm:
The very act of posting on dump.fm calls into question the burdensome concept of the unique object. One and all welcome borrowing/stealing and celebrate the creative impulse in a fairly pure form. Taking someone else’s post and making something of it is the ultimate compliment. Long time users could probably point out the origins of some image that has been turned into an evolving meme through time, but new users will have no idea where or when or even how the animated gifs and collaged and tweaked digital images were made.
The art world is obsessed with the fetishized object, the one that can be critiqued, dissected, exhibited and, most importantly, sold. When artists want to rebel against the commodified object, they turn to non-objects, like performances, or they create temporary objects that disintegrate and lose their value over time. I’d argue that animated gifs and internet memes in general are more important and interesting challenges to the fetishized object, because they’re so very like objects — films, photographs, paintings, sculptures, installations — but also so clearly not objects to be bought and sold or exhibited in galleries.
A meme is, almost by definition, created by a collective of anonymous and pseudonymous people, and they live and die by a sort of intellectual Darwinism in which ideas either go extinct or get streamlined until the temptation to share them, inject them into conversations, modify and tweak them becomes almost irresistible. By their nature, they’re flashes in the pan: if they’re successful at all, they spread so quickly and tirelessly that we become overexposed to them, and so they die. When Richard Dawkins proposed memes as a cultural analog to genes in 1976, the idea seemed far-fetched and overbroad. Not until the rise of the internet could we actually observe the lifecycle of a meme directly, and it now seems silly to deny the insights to be gleaned from this analogy, although “memetics” is far from a respectable and reliable field of study. Getting back to memes as art, their context is so different from gallery art that it seems silly to discuss the two in the same breath. I mean, come on, they’re just for the lulz, right? To discuss them as if they were anything else seems to miss the point, but of course, not every meme is funny or entirely for fun, and besides, there’s always going to be people who want to dissect jokes, knowing full well they’ll destroy them in so doing.
If we choose to view memes as art, even if just for the sake of argument — there’s the risk here that we’ll turn into analytic zombies who can’t shut down the intellectual machinery long enough to enjoy the stuff for what it is, the way an extended visit to TvTropes can, at least for a time, destroy our enjoyment of fiction — I think we’ll find that they’re pretty much the ideal, non-commercial, social kind that curators and critics dream of, but that traditional artists never seem to actually pull off. An image macro, a YouTube video, an animated gif, or a simple text-based meme like 100 pushups isn’t created for profit, it isn’t created by just one person (or, at any rate, its memeification isn’t), and a lot of the time it wasn’t created with the intent of becoming a meme at all. No one holds ownership of it. It doesn’t exist to promote anything. It can’t be bought or sold. It is more than the sum of its many instantiations, something purer, more cerebral than the most high-strung of conceptual art. Yes, I said it: I think lolcats are (in a sense) more cerebral than, say, One and Three Chairs, and I love that work. Because a meme is an idea, not a concrete object, it is in a sense conceptualism taken to its logical extreme: there is only the concept, nothing more.

It would seem that a consensus is emerging.

towerofsleep:

dailymeh:

In a hundred years, will art historians consider animated gifs to be a legitimate and important movement in 21st century art? Or, at any rate, will they acknowledge something from the memeified internet? Computer and internet-based art is the opposite of gallery art, and the art world is slow to recognize it because it only works in context, and would become meaningless or stupid if put into a gallery, and if it can’t be put into a gallery at least in principle, the art world has trouble understanding it. Surfing a blog that keeps up with local art shows and happenings, I noticed one that happened this week: it was called “Count the dicks” and held in a gallery, and it involved Chatroulette. This perfectly illustrates the way the art world approaches the internet: too little, too late, and out of the proper context. What were these people doing in a gallery that wasn’t done one year ago at some random dude’s Chatroulette party? Do anonymous dicks on webcam become more meaningful when they’re approached as traditional art? I don’t think so. I think they become less meaningful.

Eric Gelber writes about the image chat dump.fm:

The very act of posting on dump.fm calls into question the burdensome concept of the unique object. One and all welcome borrowing/stealing and celebrate the creative impulse in a fairly pure form. Taking someone else’s post and making something of it is the ultimate compliment. Long time users could probably point out the origins of some image that has been turned into an evolving meme through time, but new users will have no idea where or when or even how the animated gifs and collaged and tweaked digital images were made.

The art world is obsessed with the fetishized object, the one that can be critiqued, dissected, exhibited and, most importantly, sold. When artists want to rebel against the commodified object, they turn to non-objects, like performances, or they create temporary objects that disintegrate and lose their value over time. I’d argue that animated gifs and internet memes in general are more important and interesting challenges to the fetishized object, because they’re so very like objects — films, photographs, paintings, sculptures, installations — but also so clearly not objects to be bought and sold or exhibited in galleries.

A meme is, almost by definition, created by a collective of anonymous and pseudonymous people, and they live and die by a sort of intellectual Darwinism in which ideas either go extinct or get streamlined until the temptation to share them, inject them into conversations, modify and tweak them becomes almost irresistible. By their nature, they’re flashes in the pan: if they’re successful at all, they spread so quickly and tirelessly that we become overexposed to them, and so they die. When Richard Dawkins proposed memes as a cultural analog to genes in 1976, the idea seemed far-fetched and overbroad. Not until the rise of the internet could we actually observe the lifecycle of a meme directly, and it now seems silly to deny the insights to be gleaned from this analogy, although “memetics” is far from a respectable and reliable field of study. Getting back to memes as art, their context is so different from gallery art that it seems silly to discuss the two in the same breath. I mean, come on, they’re just for the lulz, right? To discuss them as if they were anything else seems to miss the point, but of course, not every meme is funny or entirely for fun, and besides, there’s always going to be people who want to dissect jokes, knowing full well they’ll destroy them in so doing.

If we choose to view memes as art, even if just for the sake of argument — there’s the risk here that we’ll turn into analytic zombies who can’t shut down the intellectual machinery long enough to enjoy the stuff for what it is, the way an extended visit to TvTropes can, at least for a time, destroy our enjoyment of fiction — I think we’ll find that they’re pretty much the ideal, non-commercial, social kind that curators and critics dream of, but that traditional artists never seem to actually pull off. An image macro, a YouTube video, an animated gif, or a simple text-based meme like 100 pushups isn’t created for profit, it isn’t created by just one person (or, at any rate, its memeification isn’t), and a lot of the time it wasn’t created with the intent of becoming a meme at all. No one holds ownership of it. It doesn’t exist to promote anything. It can’t be bought or sold. It is more than the sum of its many instantiations, something purer, more cerebral than the most high-strung of conceptual art. Yes, I said it: I think lolcats are (in a sense) more cerebral than, say, One and Three Chairs, and I love that work. Because a meme is an idea, not a concrete object, it is in a sense conceptualism taken to its logical extreme: there is only the concept, nothing more.

It would seem that a consensus is emerging.

adsertoris:deleteyourself:


Toyota factory by Stéphane Couturier
Usine Toyota n°1 Series: Melting Point C-Print2005

Stéphane  Couturier
Artist statement
Stéphane Couturier – Melting Point - Toyota The series of twenty large photographs depicting the Toyota assembly  plant in Valenciennes (France) can be distinguished in many respects  from previous works that Stéphane Couturier has carried out on urban  work sites. While previously he transformed buildings under construction  into veritable refined geometrical pictures, with careful rigor in  regard to the composition, the images of the current series on the  contrary are flowing, mystifying, teeming with elements. Invertebrate,  so to speak. The technical and visual protocols put into play as a matter of fact  obey a visual and deliberate conceptual orientation—to divert the  documentary aspect of photography, to shift and transcend its narrative  dimension, to question its reputation as beholder of truth.  Stéphane Couturier’s works at the Valenciennes Toyota factory are in a  flagrant break away—in their protocol, their content and their  forms—from photography’s documentary system of verity. But the break  away is not a total one.  Somewhere between digital and gelatin silver  technique, between detachment from the reality of things and persistence  of close adherence to them, the works propose a kind of ‘figurative  abstraction’—a combination and shock of forms, of realities, of systems  of verity, of the nature of the imagery—photography and painting. In front of the Toyota factory assembly line, that is say confronted by a  veritable metaphor of movement that is perpetual and implacable as is  today’s technological world, rationalized, disembodied, automated and  more and more subject to the silent and ruthless profit logic, Stéphane  Couturier knows that reality is no longer made up of isolated things, of  fixed geometrical shapes, but that it has become a reality of flux, in  continuous movement and transformation. Nothing escapes any more the logic of such flux, not even industry and  the assembly line that nevertheless have been the strongest and most  solid symbols of modern automation and rationalization. The images by Stéphane Couturier visualize this major phenomenon in  today’s world whereby the domains of expertise and rationality the most  emblematic of 20th century Western civilization cede place to the new  logic of flux. Thus it is necessary to unbridle photographic fixedness, to melt it, to  abolish its perspective framework, to enable it to be able to gather  (and not seize) content and forms in fusion within an accelerating and  evolving world. But that comes down to deviating photography outside of itself. Such is  the reasoning and pertinence behind the process conceived by Stéphane  Couturier. Not to explain, inform or document anything whatsoever, but  to have us experience visually, at the nerve center of the world, some  of the forces that are driving it… André Rouillé




&lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3

adsertoris:deleteyourself:

Toyota factory by Stéphane Couturier

Usine Toyota n°1
Series: Melting Point
C-Print
2005

Stéphane Couturier

Artist statement

Stéphane Couturier – Melting Point - Toyota

The series of twenty large photographs depicting the Toyota assembly plant in Valenciennes (France) can be distinguished in many respects from previous works that Stéphane Couturier has carried out on urban work sites. While previously he transformed buildings under construction into veritable refined geometrical pictures, with careful rigor in regard to the composition, the images of the current series on the contrary are flowing, mystifying, teeming with elements. Invertebrate, so to speak.

The technical and visual protocols put into play as a matter of fact obey a visual and deliberate conceptual orientation—to divert the documentary aspect of photography, to shift and transcend its narrative dimension, to question its reputation as beholder of truth.

Stéphane Couturier’s works at the Valenciennes Toyota factory are in a flagrant break away—in their protocol, their content and their forms—from photography’s documentary system of verity. But the break away is not a total one. Somewhere between digital and gelatin silver technique, between detachment from the reality of things and persistence of close adherence to them, the works propose a kind of ‘figurative abstraction’—a combination and shock of forms, of realities, of systems of verity, of the nature of the imagery—photography and painting.


In front of the Toyota factory assembly line, that is say confronted by a veritable metaphor of movement that is perpetual and implacable as is today’s technological world, rationalized, disembodied, automated and more and more subject to the silent and ruthless profit logic, Stéphane Couturier knows that reality is no longer made up of isolated things, of fixed geometrical shapes, but that it has become a reality of flux, in continuous movement and transformation.
Nothing escapes any more the logic of such flux, not even industry and the assembly line that nevertheless have been the strongest and most solid symbols of modern automation and rationalization.
The images by Stéphane Couturier visualize this major phenomenon in today’s world whereby the domains of expertise and rationality the most emblematic of 20th century Western civilization cede place to the new logic of flux.


Thus it is necessary to unbridle photographic fixedness, to melt it, to abolish its perspective framework, to enable it to be able to gather (and not seize) content and forms in fusion within an accelerating and evolving world.
But that comes down to deviating photography outside of itself. Such is the reasoning and pertinence behind the process conceived by Stéphane Couturier. Not to explain, inform or document anything whatsoever, but to have us experience visually, at the nerve center of the world, some of the forces that are driving it…


André Rouillé

http://www.prixpictet.com/files/artworks/modified/995/9160.zoom.jpg

http://www.prixpictet.com/files/artworks/modified/995/9161.zoom.jpg

http://www.prixpictet.com/files/artworks/modified/995/9162.zoom.jpg

http://www.prixpictet.com/files/artworks/modified/995/9163.zoom.jpg

http://www.prixpictet.com/files/artworks/modified/995/9164.zoom.jpg

http://www.prixpictet.com/files/artworks/modified/995/9165.zoom.jpg

http://www.prixpictet.com/files/artworks/modified/995/11908.zoom.jpg

http://www.prixpictet.com/files/artworks/modified/995/11909.zoom.jpg

<3 <3 <3

d-d-d:

Extraordinary Blooming Beauty

d-d-d:

Extraordinary Blooming Beauty

(via d-d-d)

&#8216;An invasive plant that can grow almost six metres tall &#8212; and whose sap can cause blindness &#8212; is creeping into forests in eastern Ontario and parts of British Columbia.
Giant hogweed is easily identified by its teetering height, its leaves as big as 1.5 metres across and the purple splotching on its stem.
&#8230;if anyone locates such a plant, they should not try to remove it, but instead call municipal officials.&#8217;

(via CP24- Invasive plant that can cause blindness is popping up in Ontario, B.C. - CTV News, Shows and Sports &#8212; Canadian Television)
ruh roh

‘An invasive plant that can grow almost six metres tall — and whose sap can cause blindness — is creeping into forests in eastern Ontario and parts of British Columbia.

Giant hogweed is easily identified by its teetering height, its leaves as big as 1.5 metres across and the purple splotching on its stem.

if anyone locates such a plant, they should not try to remove it, but instead call municipal officials.’

(via CP24- Invasive plant that can cause blindness is popping up in Ontario, B.C. - CTV News, Shows and Sports — Canadian Television)

ruh roh

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