The plenitude of history is only possible in the space, both empty and peopled at the same time, of all the words without language that appear to anyone who lends an ear, as a dull sound from beneath history, the obstinate murmur of a language talking to itself—without any speaking subject and without an interlocutor, wrapped up in itself, with a lump in its throat, collapsing before it ever reaches any formulation and returning without a fuss to the silence that it never shook off. The charred root of meaning.
— Michel Foucault, “History of Madness”
Peirce quincuncial projection developed by Charles Sanders Peirce in 1879.
Among the many gifts to thinking and being given by Peirce.
February 13, 2014 at 12:31pm
Barry Le Va, Impact Run - Velocity Piece, 1969
November 13, 2013 at 10:32pm
Happy Labor Day!
September 20, 2013 at 12:15pm
September 10, 2013 at 12:34pm
Marry Miss, Stake Fence, 1970.
August 20, 2013 at 1:51pm
Artists are giving themselves over and opening themselves up to those things that stick out, that linger, that give pause, that provide both evident visible pleasure and inwardly-kept satisfaction, that they can’t get out of their head, that horrify them but they come back to, that humiliate and punish, that build and nurture, that annoy and tease, that they find themselves needing more and more of. These are precisely what is so invigorating about today’s art.
— Nick Faust - Get Off