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new home

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 05-Mar-2011 by albertob

My stuff is being posted temporally here:

http://abarreiro.tumblr.com/

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My Old Files #2: El Astronauta 2002

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 08-Jan-2011 by albertob

El astronauta.


De niño, una vez imaginó que su habitación tenía una puerta oculta. Y que esa puerta, después de teclear un código en el sistema de acceso te cedía el paso a una gran base secreta.
La base mostraba siempre una gran actividad, el numeroso personal se afanaba en una indeterminada labor, los operarios se movían entre los grandes ordenadores y de vez en cuando se les veía comentar entre ellos los datos frente a un monitor.
En el enorme complejo, compuesto por numerosas salas, los corredores convergían hacia un pabellón central, una gigantesca sala circular presidida por una pantalla que ocupaba la totalidad de las paredes. El espacio resultaba de una mezcla entre el interior de un submarino y la sala de control en tierra del Apolo XII, tal y como recordaba haberla visto en la televisión. Cuando su padre y él accedían al complejo por la puerta escondida de su dormitorio, toda aquella tecnología se ponía a su servicio. Los agentes secretos les leían sus informes y él se sentaba frente a un monitor y allí se quedaba, observando atentamente.



Al crecer, una vez también se sintió observado.

Mientras caminaba recordó un reciente programa de televisión en el que se afirmaba que el primer alunizaje del Apolo XII habia sido un montaje. Volvió a ver los rostros expectantes de los técnicos de la base en tierra, atentos a los monitores en los momentos previos al primer paso de un ser humano sobre la superficie en blanco y negro de la luna. Y se acordó del laboratorio fantasma que de pequenho guardaba tras la puerta. Tenia ahora treinta y dos años, los mismos que habían pasado desde aquella odisea espacial que ahora algunos consideraban falsa.

Se hizo de noche y una cámara móvil de vigilancia seguía a unos jovenes borrachos. El círculo de luz infrarroja haría mostrar una calle iluminada como la luna en alguna lejana pantalla. Los tres corrían alrededor del poste que sujetaba la cámara y el vigilante se esmeraba en alcanzarlos con el objetivo. Al desaparecer la juerga entre gritos por una de las bocacalles, el sistema de vigilancia fijo en él su luz invisible. Desde lo alto la cámara le miraba, enviando su imagen de astronauta a algun centro invisible de control.

Le era imposible determinar cual era la importantísima labor que se desarrollaba tras la puerta secreta de su habitación. Ahora, al recordar su suenho, se reconoció en la silenciosa mirada que le examinaba al otro lado de la cámara. Alguien, en alguno de los edificios de los centros financieros que le rodeaban, había accedido por otra entrada a las terminales de su refugio secreto, y le observaba atentamente, iluminado por la luz intermitente de los monitores. Volvió a imaginar que con el tiempo, su gran base secreta había crecido multiplicándose en todas las direcciones hasta dispersarse tras una explosión en un número infinito de pequenhos nodos, emulando un modelo divino de perspectiva capaz de comprender la totalidad de los puntos de vista posibles. Se imaginó a si mismo como un astronauta en un decorado fingiendo la falta de gravedad mediante teatrales saltos. A modo de bandera clavó el paraguas con el logotipo de su empresa en el centro de una pequenha jardinera.

No halló en su camino a casa un lugar en el que descansar del frío en la espalda, del frío en la frente, en el pecho y en las manos que producía el cristal helado de las cámaras, el círculo de luz infraroja y el zumbido electrónico de los servomotores.

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My old files #1: Optic Trees 2002

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 08-Jan-2011 by albertob



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Egosearch surprise +

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 01-Sep-2010 by albertob

Another google egosearch finding.

http://www.outonofotografico.com/2000/expo/natural1.html

What you can see here it was a very large print-out that I (if I remember well) glued to the exhibition wall. This is a picture of my old bonsay, that I place in the window of my room at Kingsland road, facing east, the buildings in the background are a group of council estates in the heart of Hackney. The picture was took with a crappy webcam attached to my computer (640x400 resolution).

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Moon

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 27-Aug-2010 by albertob

Micro-casual videoclip filmed at home (from the sofa in a full moon day).
The music is the soundtrack of the game I was playing.

Moon from alberto barreiro on Vimeo.

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Inframince

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 27-Aug-2010 by albertob

"when the tobacco smoke smells also of the/mouth which exhales it, the two odors/marry by inframince". Marcel Duchamp.

Inframince from alberto barreiro on Vimeo.



The shadow of the blinds in my office in a windy and cloudy day and the lines of my notebook also marry by inframince

.

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Metastar II

 6 Comments- Add comment Written on 05-Aug-2010 by albertob

Based on the previous post, I decided to move Lindsay into the realm of the alternative realities, transforming her into a character of a nonexistent Richard Linklater movie:

 

Lindsay K. is a Hollywood actress and one of the most popular faces on screen.
When trying to isolate herself in a remote island, she receives a script from an unknown producer. The role was about an actress that falls in a spiral of paranoia and self-destruction after the death of her best friend, also an actress.
She reads a few pages and told her agent that despite the offer, she wasn't interested in playing the role.
From that day she felt things were not quite the same (animated rotoscoped sequences start here).
A few days after, she goes back to LA just to find out that Brit, her best friend, was dead.

.... it will continue

 

 

 

 


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Waking Life

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 04-Aug-2010 by albertob

The view of the skeptical. Waking Life, Richard Linklate, 2001

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Self-Inception

 3 Comments- Add comment Written on 03-Aug-2010 by albertob

Quick thought:

We all all incepted with a myth. An archetypical idea that is implanted deeply in our subconsciousness.

We spend our lives trying to embody that myth.


My myth is the West.

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Metastar

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 03-Aug-2010 by albertob

For some reason I'm fascinated by the look of Lindsay Lohan in court.
She never looked more beautiful.

She crossed the boundaries between fiction and reality in the most dangerous way, developing a self destructive character. Transforming herself in her own degenerating portrait, like an inverse version of Dorian Gray.
It looks like Lindsay is testing the limits of herself as a representation. In fiction nobody dies, it's a simulacrum. Maybe that's why some stars living in a world that doesn't differ much from the ones in the movies, tend to believe that everything is unreal, therefore they won't die.
Someone has to take the heroic task of proving the solidity, the rules and consistency of reality, and that's what she is doing.

Like Mal, Cobb's wife in Inception, she is not sure if she is living the real life, she enters a self destructive spiral and kills herself in order to go back to reality.

Going to jail is a way of proving the consequence of the acts in real life, maybe that will be enough, maybe not.

We, as spectators of the Lohan Show, are a key ingredient to the mix, a "broadcasted" life is not an autonomous life anymore. Every single act becomes a representation in the very moment it is performed, the end result is that she becomes an actress representing her own life, she is her mirrored reflection, made of nothing but light. I suspect that under this circumstances, the subject will be trying to regain ownership of their missing identity, like Truman did.
What are the tactics to break the spell? self-destruction until crashing with the boundaries of that layer of reality?

I don't know... but today she is my hero.

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Shifting Realities

 6 Comments- Add comment Written on 29-Jul-2010 by albertob

Have you ever had a dream, Neo, that you were so sure was real? What if you were unable to wake from that dream? How would you know the difference between the dream world and the real world?


99 ways of shifting realities: 

in not particular order:

  1. Alice´s Adventures in Wonderland
  2. The Mirror
  3. Inception
  4. Brazil
  5. Dreamscape
  6. Synecdoche, New York
  7. A Scanner Darkly
  8. Strange Days
  9. The Wizard of Oz
  10. The 5000 Fingers of Dr.T
  11. Pan's Labyrinth
  12. Performance
  13. The Fall
  14. Tron
  15. Lost Highway
  16. The 13th Floor
  17. Memento
  18. Dark City
  19. Primer
  20. The Cell
  21. Altered States
  22. Naked Lunch
  23. Abre Los Ojos
  24. Hellraiser
  25. A Nightmare on Elm Street
  26. ExistenZ
  27. The Matrix
  28. The Science of Sleep
  29. Life on Mars
  30. Mirrormask
  31. Spellbound
  32. Total Recall
  33. Avatar
  34. Waking Life
  35. Fight Club
  36. Solaris
  37. Stalker
  38. Nostalgia
  39. Requiem for a Dream
  40. Jacobs Ladder
  41. Flatliners
  42. In Dreams
  43. Being John Malkcovich
  44. Adaptation
  45. Vanilla Sky
  46. Flight of the Navigator
  47. The Machinist
  48. Pi
  49. Donnie Darko
  50. Brainstorm (Cypher)
  51. Science of Sleep
  52. The Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind
  53. I Huckabees
  54. NeverEnding Story
  55. Labyrinth
  56. Je t'aime, je t'aime
  57. 8 1/2
  58. Matter of Life and Death
  59. Where the Wild Things Are
  60. City of the Lost Children
  61. Heavenly Creatures
  62. Futureworld
  63. Paprika
  64. Un Soir, Un Train
  65. American Psycho
  66. 2001: A Space Odyssey
  67. Belle de Jour
  68. The Serpent and The Rainbow
  69. Coraline
  70. Identity
  71. The Fountain
  72. Don't Look Now
  73. Vertigo
  74. Last Year in Marienbad
  75. La Jetèe
  76. Twelve Monkeys
  77. Twin Peaks
  78. Taxi Driver
  79. Blade Runner
  80. Ninth Configuration
  81. Shutter Island
  82. Eraserhead
  83. Living In Oblivion
  84. Until The End of the World
  85. Audition
  86. Spirited Away
  87. Inland Empire
  88. Beetlejuice
  89. Hour of the Wolf
  90. Le Sang d'un poete
  91. Ghost in The Shell
  92. Perfect Blue
  93. Lawnmower Man
  94. Bridge to Terabithia
  95. The Prestige
  96. Minority Report
  97. Truman Show
  98. Paperhouse
  99. The Game

 

 

Note: I compiled list after watching Inception a couple of days ago. I used to collect films on this topic, many of those are in the list above, now lost on some dreamed past.
They are about dreams, virtual reality, movies in movies, worlds in worlds, psychosis, multiple identities, layered simultaneous universes, the blurry boundaries of our knowledge, the uncertain limits between the subject and its representation, the ductility of reality, the unsettling doubt.

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Synchronicity day

 4 Comments- Add comment Written on 23-Jul-2010 by albertob

One of these days

10:48 AM

- Sightings of pictures of Brigitte Bardot: 3

- Hearings of Elkie Brooks' Lilac Wine: 2

... and counting

Listen to me, why is everything so hazy?
Isn't that she, or am I just going crazy, dear?

 


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Egosearch surprise

 4 Comments- Add comment Written on 10-Jun-2010 by albertob

Just found an article lost in the immensity of cyberspace and time.

It´s from elcultural.es, one of the best art publications in Spain. Happy to find that they used one of my old works to illustrate the article. yes!

Rouma, 2001 (I can't recall what the title means and why I gave it to it).

http://www.elcultural.es/version_papel/ARTE/3726/La_nueva_figuracion_atlantica

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Étant donnés (David Lynch vs Louboutin)

 7 Comments- Add comment Written on 06-Jun-2010 by albertob






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Nu descendant un escalier (Duchamp / Kate Moss for AP)

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 06-Jun-2010 by albertob

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Nu descendant un escalier (Richter and Tarkovsky)

 3 Comments- Add comment Written on 25-May-2010 by albertob

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The Center of The Earth

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 10-May-2010 by albertob


Picture: Juliet (Olivia Hussey, 1968)
Music: Alberto and his mac.

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Max Wiedemann

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 01-May-2010 by albertob

Purchasing this thing by email in this very moment.

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Synchronicity

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 19-Apr-2010 by albertob



via: The Photographic Dictionary  & wikipedia

 

Either I am quite delusional and my confirmation bias alters my perception of reality, or I live surrounded by a continuous flow of synchronicity driven events.

 

 

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Anatomía de una Ola

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 15-Mar-2010 by albertob

(tal como aparece en http://www.oestesurf.com/$weblog/2010/03/14/anatomia_de_una_ola_2)

 

Anatomía de una Ola

No sé si se puede decir que nací o que simplemente aparecí. El caso es que el viento soplaba con fuerza sobre la superficie del mar y que yo, de repente estaba allí.

Débil, dispersa y caótica al principio, pero notando como mi interior acumulaba forma y energía. El viento soplaba fuerte sobre mi espalda y yo, por debajo, con la gravedad como respuesta, crecía y avanzaba, concéntrica, feliz y entusiasmada, sin atender a razones, persiguiendo y perseguida por fórmulas opuestas.

De un océano oscuro y frío, del centro de la borrasca es de donde vengo, de una espiral, de un vórtice y de un abismo. Escapo de ese infierno a ciegas por el fondo y me dirijo al Sur y hacia el Este, creo.

Moléculas de agua fría, sales, placton, arena, partículas de minerales vivos me daban paso a empujones, avisándose las unas a las otras de mi llegada, bailando en círculos en mi pista invisible y olvidándose de mí tras un instante.

La luz se hacía encima en mi viaje, el viento se paró y ya era yo, una unidad, entera y oscilante, con mi amplitud, mi periodo, mi velocidad, mi dirección y mi fuerza. Parte de un sonido, una frecuencia, un ritmo, un pulso calmo, un latido grave, azul y constante. La física de una canción que cuenta que paralelas, vienen, siguiéndome.

Y es que no hay nada mejor que dejarse llevar por la inercia de ese impulso primero, saberse fruto del caos y transformarse a pesar de ello en una Idea, negando así la antigua maldición de la entropía.

Y como soy en parte una Idea que fluye y estoy también, en parte, sujeta a las leyes naturales, percibo a medias, superpuestas, realidades. Me traspasan los peces, las ballenas, acarician mi lomo los cormoranes. Me acompañan al ritmo que yo impongo los delfines, se lanzan sobre mí los arrecifes y me cortan en dos con sus quillas los cargueros. Pero aparece también la Historia hundida en forma de tesoros y cadáveres, y veo con mis ojos las Leyendas. La Serpiente de Mar coge mi forma, he pasado por el estómago del Kraken herido por los sables de Piratas y como no, y son mis favoritas, me han ignorado, soberbias, Las Sirenas.

Por un tiempo mis brazos alcanzaban horizontes, el Este, el Oeste y las Profundidades, me movía entonces apacible y pura, sin interrupciones, con el océano curvándose imperceptiblemente sobre mí, dejándome paso con la elegancia de un viejo caballero.
El mar cambió de nombre un par de veces, y avancé así, en calma y en silencio, sin dejar tras de mí ninguna huella.

Apareció la Costa por la tarde, en forma de cabo entre las Islas.
Con una mano agarré el acantilado y con un giro me adentré en el estuario, cubriendo de blanco las rocas exteriores. Alcancé a ver las playas a lo lejos, como una línea clara entre la bruma. Comencé a alzar la vista.

Ayudada por el fondo me elevé suavemente, el horizonte se había transformado ya en colinas verdes, en las casas de un pueblo, en un paseo, en un arenal dispuesto a recibirme.

“It´s show time!!!” pensé en alto.

Ya no cabía en el mar, no cabía en mí, de orgullo y ansia. Los fondos me empujaban hacia arriba, hacia fuera, me expulsaban del agua, pero yo era parte de ella y entre los dos, mano a mano, esculpimos una pared móvil e imposible.

Avancé vertical, azul y opaca, proyectando sombras, mientras por arriba me hacía transparente y blanca, amplificando el Sol, lanzándolo en brillos como gotas.

Ya no podía más, era el momento. “Romper” le llaman, es todo lo contrario. Nos miramos, y en un segundo, el Mar y yo saltamos desbocados adelante, irresponsables, tomando cuerpo, sacando a la luz la fuerza, la violencia, el instinto y la Naturaleza. Desconocía ser así, no lo sabía.

Noté que se impulsaba, le impulsaba y sentí de pronto que me cortaba la piel, tatuando sobre mí una curva amplia. Éramos tres ahora, él, el mar y yo, persiguiéndonos. Con afán suicida y de acuerdo con el mar, me abalancé aun con más fuerza si cabe. Caí por delante de mí misma dibujando a escala una espiral, un vórtice, un abismo. Lo hacía sin moral, sin intención, que no la tengo, y le cubrí de mí por dentro.

Fue más fuerte que yo, aunque yo era la fuerza y salimos los dos, el de pié y yo lanzada detrás gritando gotas.
A mi alrededor el agua ya era blanca, teñida de oxígeno y arena, cansada, intentando calmarse en su yakuzzi.

Acompañó el paseo de mis restos hasta la misma orilla, yo seguí un poco más, hasta el muro de piedra, contra el que rompí ya en mil pedazos, con una explosión y un golpe sordo seguido de un gran aplauso.


Me escondí en las partículas de agua que escalaban el muro, no más grandes que la sal que contenían y subí, con el viento, muy arriba.

______________________


Sofía esperaba, con el pelo aun mojado y los pies colgando hacia el exterior del muro del paseo. La ola surgió desde un lugar cercano al horizonte, ella le siguió con la mirada. Le vio apuntar al cielo, triangular, azul, altiva y desplomarse después sin prisas, en diagonal, redonda, limpia y matemática como una Idea, empujada por infinitos vectores.

Alguien realizó sobre la ola un dibujo, dos, tres giros y acariciando la pared con sus dedos, se dejó tapar por un momento, dando sentido al caos, a todo aquello.
La ola y la mirada siguieron su trayecto hasta las rocas, debajo mismo de sus pies, donde esperaba. La ola alcanzó el muro, tronó por lo bajo y ascendió ayudada por el viento.

Arriba, Sofía, sentada sobre el muro del paseo, respiró el aire salado y se inseminó con una idea.

Él dejó la tabla a su lado. Ella aún miraba hacia abajo, a la corriente que ahora se recogía.


“…hay una cosa importante que no me explicaste”. Le dijo ella.


“¿Qué es una ola?”

 


http://www.flickr.com/photos/miguelcachapa/3178429678/

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Sparklehorse

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 08-Mar-2010 by albertob

I am a bit concern that my records are full of talented people who couldn't deal with the world: Nick Drake, Elliot Smith, Bill Evans, Chet Baker, Jeff Buckley, Ian Curtis, etc.... Basically my ITunes is getting full of corpses.

and now, Mark Linkous, the singer of Sparklehorse who died last Saturday.

Paradoxically, one of my favorite songs is called "It's a wonderful life":


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Girls & Guitars: Anne Clark

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 10-Feb-2010 by albertob

Cool finding on my favorite fetish: girls with guitars.
She's called Anne Clark and her fabulous band St. Vincent.
Spotify link: St. Vincent



picture via: http://mollycorinne.wordpress.com/2009/08/05/your-heart-is-a-strange-little-orange-to-peel/

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Accidents by 9000

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 09-Feb-2010 by albertob

found in here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/dinosonic/4333087381/

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Graham Chapman memorial service

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 18-Jan-2010 by albertob

I went to see Pop Life at the Tate last week. It was about artists whose life is indistinguishable from art, people who transform their own personal lives in a art performance.

Art is not an activity that happens in an art gallery or a studio, it's a code to read the Reality and to be able to transform it.
Very few people is able to make sense of it, it implies a difficult compromise, intelligence, talent and commitment. But some of them do, like the ones in the video bellow.

PS. Every time I find more parallelisms between Art and Humor. Bill Hicks, Wes Anderson and Monty Python are now listed among my favorite contemporary artists; Duchamp, Hirst, the Chapman Brothers, among my favorite comedians. The creative process is the same, the format of the output differs slightly but the goal is shared: to break the logical flow of normality for an instant, opening the gates for crude love, knowledge and imagination, naked in front of our eyes *.


*As Graham Chapman did in The Life of Bryan.

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Frío

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 13-Jan-2010 by albertob

As posted in www.oestesurf.com

 

Los grajos vuelan bajos estos días.

La borrasca del Atlántico se ha desplazado al Sur dejándo paso al aire frío del Ártico, el mismo que entra en mis huesos, del Polo Norte al tuétano y de ahí a mi cabeza congestionada de malas ideas.
El blanco es el nuevo negro, es ahora blanco oscuro, denso y borroso, tan opaco y mal intencionado que colapsa uno tras otro los aeropuertos. Es blanco de las iras del conductor prudente desplazado a la cuneta. Blanco que nos hace blanco fácil del azar, en estas condiciones cualquier tirador ciego daría, incluso sin querer, en el blanco.

Conocía dos vientos: El viento cálido y húmedo del Sur, el de cielos sólidos, de techo bajo con goterones, de cemento armado, pesado, intenso y feo, que aun me produce alergias para joderme el viaje. Y estaba el otro, el viento frío, afilado y brillante del Norte, el del sol triste, el que me secaba los labios y se llevaba las olas. Los dos vientos de siempre, el del Sur, católico beato que deja ver a Dios de vez en cuando y el del Norte, un déspota serio, racional y persistente, se relevaban por turnos pidiendo vez a las lunas llenas.

Pero a veces el viento del Norte se desvía y trae nubes de quién-sabe-donde, el frío se seca por dentro y nieva en lugares en los que cuando nieva nadie recuerda que allí ha nevado antes.

Los compañeros de frío del Oeste, los imagino unidos por el castañeo rítmico de sus dientes, todos al unísono, zapateando el suelo del aparcamiento con los pies descalzos, que duelen porque no se sienten y cuando se sienten duelen.
Hablo de memoria y de oidas de mis orejas ardiendo de frío en un día bajocero y mediometro en Montalvo. Y creo desde entonces en la resurrección de los muertos, los piés, al calor del aire acondicionado en un coche barato, camino a la Gloria de un café con leche y unas magdalenas.

Porque hace frío fuera, nieva de nuevo, aprovecho el confort de la oficina -calefacción y salario- para perder el tiempo, tiempo frío del carajo, helándome al teclado, temblando de memoria, volando bajo.



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Holidays

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 05-Jan-2010 by albertob

"Vacaciones los cojones es mejor trabajar" Siniestro Total.
"Holydays... my ass, work is better"

Back from holidays, I believe. My head hasn't landed yet, still floating a few miles across this freezing winter sky due the sum of flu, allergies, tiredness and mixed christmas trauma.

///blocked///

The best of it?

A song from the soundtrack of this famous teenage vampire movie. The song it's called A White Demon Love Song by The Killers, it has something of The Beatles on it, beautiful.

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Big Waves at home

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 11-Dec-2009 by albertob

Hi world,

Great video by http://www.pazsurfing.blogspot.com/

The action takes place near my home town, a spot we called Fontenla, next to my favorite local beach. For years we saw the waves breaking but not until recently people started surfing it. This time among the surfers we had two of the editors of Oeste (you can read the story there)
The waves only break big western swells. And as we always say, size doesn't count. Think about the cold and dark water, the gray skies, the strong currents of the bay and the sharp rocks, only then you'll get an idea of what's the feeling in there.

;

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Se desencadena una revolución

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 05-Dec-2009 by albertob

Arcadi Espada hace una reflexión muy lúcida y refrescante sobre el uso de Twitter en su columna de El Mundo.
Copio y pego del siguiente artículo: http://www.elmundo.es/opinion/columnas/arcadi-espada/2009/12/21376258.html

Todo esos tweets llevan un único mensaje. Estoy twitteando.

 

ARCADI ESPADA

Se desencadena una revolución
    •    04.12.2009


AYER por la mañana unos jóvenes con blog fueron a ver a la ministra de Cultura, la señora González-Sinde, por unos problemas que tenían. Pudo causar extrañeza que la ministra los recibiera; pero la primera obligación del poderoso es fabricarse enemigos de talla accesible. Eso es lo que ha hecho hasta ahora, y de manera muy exitosa, el presidente del Gobierno con su leal oposición.
Sólo hay que ver lo que después de la reunión dijo el portavoz popular Esteban González Pons: «En internet se está librando una revolución contra el Gobierno». Es la prueba exacta de lo que el señor portavoz sabe sobre internet y la revolución, y, en especial, sobre la manera de llegar al Gobierno.
La reunión de ayer tuvo un rasgo de estilo interesante. Los jóvenes con blog la twittearon. Twittear es retransmitir en directo el pensamiento y la conducta, mediante el uso de un artefacto digital más o menos sofisticado.
Un ejemplo de ayer, de un joven ya con espolones: «En este momento, levantado para irme. Se niegan a hablar de la retirada». Ni que decir tiene que el tweet puso a España en vilo. Hasta que por fortuna el joven se sentó.
La práctica del tweet en estas circunstancias replantea el viejo tópico del escritor de diarios. Es decir: ¿vive el diarista para anotar? ¿Anota para vivir? Grandes cimas de la especulación occidental, ¡quia! Hay graves sospechas de que para los jóvenes de ayer el tema era el twitteo y la negociación el argumento banal. El mismo caso, exactamente, de esos jóvenes que se casaron en Estados Unidos y se pusieron a twittear en el altar, no sólo con dios.
Hay una diferencia entre el twitteo y la retransmisión audiovisual de la vida. El tweet exhibe el interior, allá donde la cámara jamás llegará. No hay duda, observando la generalidad de los twitters, que se trata de una gran desventaja. Además esta incrustación de la narración en el hecho amenaza gravemente con la diversidad fáctica.
Un grave atentado ecológico me parece. Porque, en puridad, los hechos empiezan a ser tan exóticos como los ornitorrincos.
Cuando uno twittea «me estoy casando», deja automáticamente de casarse. E ingresa en la metavida. Cuando se pretende narrar en directo, el único hecho que resulta es el propio acto de narrar. La narración, como la felicidad de Ferlosio, sólo puede ser retrospectiva. Todo esos tweets llevan un único mensaje. Estoy twitteando.
Y es así como va España.

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soy?

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 26-Oct-2009 by albertob
 
 
soy un fue, y un será, y un soy cansado






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La Luz

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 06-Oct-2009 by albertob


In one of those weekends of this period of Social (Media) isolation, I recorded this song at home, thanks to chickerino's electric guitar and the wonders of Garage Band.

It's called "The Light" or "The Idolatrist" I am not sure yet, and it was written by my friend Alberto P. (maxnemo) when we used to play together when we were kids. I felt slightly melancholic of those times, so I put my amateurish musical skills to work.  I think it talks about the fragility of morals.

Most importantly, I had lots of fun playing it.... (click play on the player on top of the picture to listen, and please pop up the volume to the max.)


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La Ley de Duchamp (redux). by 9 0 0 0

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 17-Aug-2009 by albertob

artishot.jpg

 

"Y entonces yo me le acercaba a Anita la secretaria y le decía al oído, en la mas profunda confidencia el secreto que se esconde detrás de la ley de Duchamp, entonces Anita la secretaria me escuchaba con atención y después se ponía el imperdible en el lado izquierdo de su pecho y me sonreía con esa tranquilidad que solo se da en la juventud"

 

 

9 0 0 0 keeps adding flavor to the long office days. This time with a nice art student story (in spanish).

I copied it from here http://www.flickr.com/photos/dinosonic/2482886214/ because I love it and I want to keep it.

 

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Smog: I break horses - Self-indulgent video of the day

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 17-Aug-2009 by albertob
I have two tickets to see Bill Callahan aka Smog next Thursday. But probably I´ll be away... shame?

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What is a Social Network

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 06-Aug-2009 by albertob


via my sister
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Dial-A-View

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 05-Aug-2009 by albertob

Song on this (nostalgic??) moment:

Grandaddy, Miner At The Dia-A-View

 

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Smells

 3 Comments- Add comment Written on 04-Aug-2009 by albertob

Of all human senses 'smell' is the only one that is directly connected with the brain. That's why it always produces deeper sensations and manages to evoke old forgiven memories.
It's raining in London, nothing new. I went downstairs for a cigarette break, the profound smell of the rain over the asphalt and the sight of the low clouds, pushed by the Atlantic winds, switched on some part of my brain that has been asleep for a while.

I was 24 and driving my white Fiat along the coast with my surfboard on the roof. The wood of the pavement, next to the beach parking, felt warm and wet. It was summertime but very few people felt attracted by the beach in this weather.
The water was light blue, its color desaturated by the gray sky above. A shy wind from the South West combed the smooth, oily surface of the waves and a promise of sun appeared on the horizon, near the islands.

When the South winds blow, the water is warm.
I reached the line up and waited out there, no rush. The set came quiet, as the day, shadowing the water.
I paddled in,  but I didn't need to.

 

The cigarette is now burning my fingers. It's almost 12, the meeting is about to start.
Today smells 'surfing' I said to Oscar.

I should go.

 


pic by maxnemo: oestesurf.com

 

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Old Portfolio

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 06-Jul-2009 by albertob

10 years ago I was doing this:

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The Bride Stripped by Her Bachelors, Even...

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 14-Jun-2009 by albertob

Hi world,

I left my flat this morning with the only intention to go swimming. I stopped at a small vintage furniture shop which is about to close. There is where I found two framed pictures that I couldn't resist to take home with me.
They are two black and white photographs taken in the 50's by some obscure erotic photographer. They represent a naked model wearing a wedding vale and with a bunch of flowers in her hands.

All my past artwork were based on reinterpretation of Duchamp's ideas. One on the central concepts that kept his creative mind busy was what someone called "the dynamics of desire". These dynamics are applied to the realm of erotic love but they can be extrapolated to a number of topics (the impossibility of knowledge, for example). Around this topic he produced two of his more important works: The Bride Stripped by Her Bachelors, Even... (also known as the Large Glass) , and my favorite artwork ever, Etant Donnes.
Duchamp's Bride represents the "object of desire", which by definition, is unreachable. His work explains the circular flow of forces that drives the energy of desire, which ends resulting in an unproductive cycle, closer to a defeat than a victory. Only irony and humor (and love??) could break the vicious circle and save us from the dispair and the suffering of the distance.

The beautiful pictures I got this surprising morning seem to play the same game of visual chess (at least in my eyes as a victim of desire).
In Duchamp terms, they are a "ready made", they haven't been done with an artistic intention, they are made just to provoke a bit of naif arousing effect on the postwar male British population. But it terms of symbolic elements, their story is very complete and consistent.
They relate to the archetype of the "femme fatale" atracting her bachelors to an sinister castrating trap. She doesn't seem to be getting married, she is just playing the symbolic game of presenting herself as a sexual and spiritual goal (by marrying her she will be "yours" forever).
The vale allows some clarity (see-trough) while simultaneously implies an always frustrating distance.

That's the beauty of archetypes, you call them and their appear with all this meanings and stories. Like a friend of mine said, maybe the life of the archetypes is the real one, what we think is real is just a blinded representation.

 

marie01.jpg

 

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The God Delusion

 67 Comments- Add comment Written on 01-Jun-2009 by albertob

by my favorite character:

thanks Hadas!

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Tweeting as breathing: are you worth a read?

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 01-Jun-2009 by albertob

Text found in Absolute Carmel thanks to Hadas: http://www.absolutecarmel.com/?p=113
It helps to understand the Twitter phenomenon from a symbolic (vs allegorical) perspective. Being vs representing.

 

In the world of print writing was a virtue. People who would write and publish were the ones who had something interesting to say. A text would have to be worth a read. Similarly, an image would normally be art, it will be upheld to an aesthetic standard and convey a message. However, online conversations and picture sharing cannot be treated the same way because they’re not texts or images anymore, but the building blocks of (virtual) reality.

Many bloggers bash teenagers for creating foolish colorful blogs with dozens of pictures of them goofin’ with their friends, whereas their writing resorts to “school is boring” complaints or “got nothing to say but just wanted to update and say hi” posts. I’ve often read bloggers wonder: with all due respect to the long tail concept, why would someone read something so remotely interesting? And why would you even blog when you’ve got nothing to say?

everyone has a right to produce and reproduce

As texts in print culture, most of our online content would be inconceivable; no one would bother publishing such texts and images under any circumstances. But in digital culture everyone writes and photographs not because we’re all artists, but because this is our new realm of experience and our new inhabitance space. We’re all entitled to a body, to breathe, to be present and occupy space. People don’t have to be interesting in order to deserve a place in the world; they could just be and we would never wonder why they exist in the first place.

In the beginning of the 20th century many people appeared in movies as extras and loved watching themselves appear on screen, they felt everyone had a right to be represented, mechanically reproduced. it is no coincidence that our biological right to reproduce uses the same word as our freedom-of-speech “right” to produce and digitally reproduce images and represent ourselves in the new medium.

It is the same with online presence in digital spaces only that our embodiment in these spaces is through texts and images. We don’t have to write something worthy of reading, since writing is like breathing. We’ve already recognized online writing as speech but what is speech if not a form of breathing? Through your online activity you say or show “I’m here” and it’s enough, you don’t have to communicate anything but your presence. So much of our online conversation is pathic but i argue that a good portion of our content is too.

Your writing can be impulsive and unedited like your spontaneous speech, your spelling can be a disaster in the same way you’re not obliged to be beautiful and perfect. Letters are your avatar now so they mean much more than speech; they’re how you move and perform yourself in this space too.

it’s no longer documenting experience, it is IT

Every once in a while someone says the net is boring and the majority of its content is crap, and I say: of course. So is life. And life is on the web now. We experience it not only through our bodies but also through technology: we tweet during an experience and take a picture and share it, as part of experience. it’s no longer a documentation of it, it is IT.

We all deserve to occupy space online, to breathe. Thus, Evaluations of quality of any sort are completely irrelevant. The only relevant question for online content is if you care about someone enough to witness his experience, as boring as it may be.

How many of you who read this through, did it because you assumed I’ve got something interesting to say, and how many did it because they care about me as a person and enjoy the thoughts and experiences I share?

 

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I'm So Post Modern

 23 Comments- Add comment Written on 28-May-2009 by albertob

Thanks Sjors for the video. Despite the irony, it's a very "neo post modern (sam dixit)" and trendy video:

 
My own:
I'm so post modern cos I live in a church, I bought a red chair and paste sticks on mirrors.
I'm so post modern cos I wear a Duchamp badge over the Lacoste crocodile of my black jumper.
I'm so post modern cos I'm keeping a blog about random things and expect people read it.
 
why are you "so post modern"?
 
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The absence of investigation

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 27-May-2009 by albertob

"I refuse to get involved in arguments on the existence of God--which means that the term "atheist" (as opposed to the word "believer") is of no interest to me at all, no more than the word believer or the opposition of their very clear meanings. For me, there is something other than yes, no and indifferent -- the absence of investigations of this sort, for instance."


Marcel Duchamp

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Giving up smoking

 23 Comments- Add comment Written on 14-May-2009 by albertob

Do you remember the traffic controller in that comedy about a plane crash saying "I've chosen a bad day to give up smoking" ?.
Well, I fell like this. I've definitely chosen a bad year to give up on anything. Every time I tried I ended adding more stress to already stressful situations.

Tomorrow, however, it's going to be a bit different. I am getting the keys of my new flat at 9:30 and cheese as it might sound, I am giving myself a life change opportunity. Seriously. (the tenancy contract also specifies that smoking is not allowed).

So, will see what is next.
This is my 5th move in less than 2 years. From the flat I used to own in South London and that now belongs to my ex girlfriend, to Marcus's flat in arty Shoreditch, to an apartment for executives in St John's Street that made me feel like living in a hotel (depressing experience), to this fantastic flat in the heart of trendy Clerckenwell that I shared with Marcus for a year and that hosted a few great parties; and finally tomorrow, 9:30 AM I am moving West to beautiful Notting Hill, to an old converted school which includes a kinder garden in the ground floor, and in which the most gourgeous yummy mummies of London will drop their perfect babies in the mornings*. The flat is also attached to a church, somehow is pretty ironic as I became an atheist quite recently. I guess I'll have to start believing again and/or buying some good headphones to deal with the sound of the bells and the choruses.
* an old fantasy of my sick mind, the mummies, not the babies, of course.

All those moves implied a radical change one way or another, some for good some for bad. I am really curious about what will be next. I cannot avoid the sensation of the end of an era. I'll keep you posted about my little domestic adventures

 

 

love! alberto

 

oh! I almost forgot! thanks Marcus aka "chickerino superdude" for being such a good flatmate. Good luck!

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Más dura será la caida

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 26-Apr-2009 by albertob

For the good old times of spanish music, what an awesome song.

 

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Chapter 1

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 08-Apr-2009 by albertob

For the last few weeks I've been starting a new novel every working day of the week (I think I missed one day). I post this short beginnings of amateur literature in Twitter. The only rule is that they have to be exactly 140 characters long (Twitter maximum number of characters).
They tell the stories of different unnamed people (he, she, I, they) and they are not related with each other.

These are the first 35 entries (updated 27 May 09):

Chapter 1. She arrived home late last night, he was awake by a dream when she oppenend the bedroom door. She was wearing a beautiful dress.

Chapter 1. The girl at the coffee shop smiled and prepared the usual large latte and orange juice. No words were crossed. No word was needed

Chapter 1. For a man with such strong principles, "truth" wasn't a real issue for him. The spell must be protected from those little details

Chapter 1. She was upset for no particular reason. Particular reasons are manageable, the unanswered generic feelings are the difficult ones

Chapter 1. Her voice at the phone was broken by the effects of a nasty cold, her breathing let escape some echoes of pain and sweetness.....

Chapter 1. Factory made abstract paintings hang all around the furniture shop, he was drunk and surrounded by aspirational, hateful ugliness

Chapter 1. There was nothing she could do about it. She was part of a game that was bigger than her, a character defined by desires and fear

Chapter 1. The picture covered the most of wall, nothing on the painting existed but those days it became the only landscape of his reality

Chapter 1. I saw her at VATS drinking a long shot of something strong and red, dressed in black and with the liquid, deep eyes of a vampire.

Chapter 1. She pointed to the wrong man. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Life made an unexpected turn dragging all their lives.

Chapter 1. She stopped working for a minute, looked up and raised her hand to the first lacy rays of sun. Do you think we'll have a summer?

Chapter 1. He stopped listening, his mind was already filled with too many images and ideas. Quietness was unavailable there, a rare luxury.

Chapter 1. In his brain the electro-chemical reactions to beauty and sadness were closely connected. And he saw beauty and sadness everywere

Chapter 1. His room was empty, it had the white walls and concrete ceilings of an aseptic art gallery. Everyday started from a blank canvas.

Chapter 1. They kissed and said goodbye. He stayed smoking outside the terminal before taking the train back home. He was also traveling far

Chapter 1. They felt like falling in a bottomless well, acelerating hand by hand, together, strightly following the Universal Law of Gravity

Chapter 1. They sat at the bar and he had a shot of scotch before ordering the dinner. I am fucked, he said. You are just tired, she replied

Chapter 1. I lost her, he said. Memories of defeats exploded inside my brain, diluting the night and my will like a bath in corrosive acid.

Chapter 1. His behavior was observed, classified and measured on her virtual emotional grid. A complex equation to define the value of love.

Chapter 1. They were friends since they could remember. After the funeral two of them left in opposite directions, the third one stood there

Chapter 1. He was alone, sitting on his board exploring the horizon, cold, quiet, hypnotized by the moving parallel lines, invisible to all.

Chapter 1. They were waiting at the hotel lobby under fake flames made of fabric. And she walked in, looking like fake flames made of fire.

Chapter 1. She stared at his shaking hands: Dear maybe you are meant to be a smoker. You are not you anymore, you are like your evil brother

Chapter 1. He was trying hard, but it seems that destiny only have one face, a face beautiful enough to let himself go, to give up fighting.

Chapter 1. He stood inside the house looking off the window.The house was just a drawing and he was just thinking they were outside. Playing

Chapter 1. The slow, deep and thick sound of a guitar made her bones vibrate, then the bass reached her soul. She remembered her secret name

Chapert 1. She was dancing slowly inside a loose white blouse, looking at the floor of my room with her eyes half open. Careless, like a God

Chapter 1. She felt tired and burned. After a drink, she laugh of my stupid joke, then she realized she loved me. Her light was blinding me.

Chapter 1. Not one single second had passed since the last time they met, despite the winters, the summers, the victories and the defeats.

Chapter 1. They walked along the avenues, the water front, the parks, the back streets, looking everywere but to each other. No turist area.

Chapter 1. While she smiled to my exhausted eyes: "Do you want a simple life?". "No", I said. "In that case assume the price of your choice"

Chapter 1. He sat in front of a mirror in her living room wondering where all the reflected images of her past were stored. No rewind button

Chapter 1. The stones of the city are green & silver after the strong rain. My bones are cold, wet, it hurts. She is the air after the rain

Chapter 1. 11 minutes to the next train. She kept waiting at the terminal thinking on the old prophetic error that drove her there, praying

Chapter 1. He felt that his life was a collection of unconnected, fragmented memories and facts made to be written in 140 charaters maximum.

Chapter 1. She was attached to geography. Her identity changed with the many places where she lived. Leaving the furniture of memory behind.

 

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Ultimate Cool

 6 Comments- Add comment Written on 08-Apr-2009 by albertob
I just came to realize that I want to look like Peter Sellers in this picture, Ferrari included.
petersellers.jpg
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Familiarity Breeds Contentment

 4 Comments- Add comment Written on 16-Mar-2009 by albertob

Shelagh, the responsible of giving Lantana the prestigious award "Webjammers Favourite Coffee" has posted a nice blog post about one of his regular customers (guess who... come on!!!,..... ok, yes...., it's me, I am the one, I didn't volunteered, it was her idea, promise).

You can read it all here:
http://scramblingeggs.blogspot.com/2009/03/familiarity-breeds-contentment.html

 

Quoting her: "One of my favourite regulars is a Spanish man with a large collection of scarves who has a latte with two sugars and a small orange juice."

That's maybe one of the coolers identity defining memes I've ever got.


coffee & OJ @ Lantana

 

Thanks Shelagh!!!

 

 

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Twitting is like filming yourself.

 32 Comments- Add comment Written on 23-Feb-2009 by albertob

Peer pressure put me back on the track of Twitter. So I've been using it again for the last few weeks.
It requires some leap of faith to engage with the new and apparently pointless communication model > One directional short notes about personal status into a pool of followers.

"out to the office", tweetts someone. "So what..." you would add.

There is, of course, a high level of narcisism involved in considering that people cares about the fact that I am "out to the office" or "enjoying a good movie". But I believe that narcisism (or self-promotion) doesn't explain the phenomenon by itself.

As I am writing and organizing a bit all this vague thoughts inside my brain, I am starting to formulate an hypothesis: let's call it the "soundtrack hypothesis".
Contemporary/urban lifestyle is "crossed" by numerous and intense narrative flows, the dynamics of the city, a multilayer of advertisement messages, the assimilated and fragmented language of cinema, tv, literature, brands and music videos.
The feeling of listening to your favorite music from your Ipod while moving in the underground escalators, for example, creates a subjective and extended experience of personal linking with the environment. It acts like the soundtrack of a movie, and helps you to create in real time the sense of "belonging" to a on going narrative that surrounds you.
Basically, people, deeply influenced by the structure of fictional narratives, re-understand their own lives from the "scriptwriter" perspective (third person). Twitter messages become the movie script of everybody's lives. As the scenes of a movie, each tweet describes the position of the character embedded in the biggest context of a greater story, feeding back to the actor the illusion of sense (see Kauffman brother's scripts, i.e. Adaptation).

Maybe, the increased exposure of artificial, rich media, effective and sophisticated languages (tv, internet, cinema) makes real live communication slightly "dull". Short messaging to the public creates a good and economic framework to release the imaginative power of the reader. It becomes an amazing creative dialogue between writer and readers. The need (and investment) of filling the gaps due the fragmentation, senseless and incompleteness of the communication is perhaps the reason behind its attraction. Its not, indeed, a pasive product, it's both reflective and projective and requieres quite an effort be part of it. But it works, therefore people is willing to make that investment (there's a need).

The Twitter experience is, from that perspective, like going to the cinema, watching (and acting like) a number of characters searching for their own narrative and trying to make sense of it. Communication as a self awareness device.

 

adaptation.jpg
Charlie Kauffman (Nicholas Cage) in Adaptation

 

 

 

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White Hell

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 11-Feb-2009 by albertob

I wanted snow, and I got it.

What a day! 50 cm of fresh snow felt last night, so there wasn't proper slopes, everything was off piste.
I managed to learn how to turn my left ski in a quite radical way when buried up to my knees in white powder. The problem is that my right ski liked to remain straight, ....I literally drunk snow.
I also learned that snow is quite wet, and wet things in the cold tend to freeze, including hats, gloves, jackets and underwear (you cannot imagine how the snow find the gaps in your wear when you crash).
Visibility was close to 0, and the snow kept falling during the day, up to 2 meters in some areas: read Alert in Andorra. The traffic stopped, 5 of 5 avalanche risk, schools and slopes closed and the cars in the outside parking had disappeared.

I am working from the hotel lounge, drinking warm coffee and happy to see that the storm had stopped. In front of me I have a pretty couple of übe-cool argentinean snowboarders, hugging, kissing and checking the web from time to time. Outside, the white hell, more snow I could even imagine in a world doomed by the global "warming".

This is what I see from my seat: the cute Argentinian snowboarder, and in the background Avet, the black slope that I managed to ski yesterday:

snowsmall.jpg

 

 

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breaking the spell

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 08-Feb-2009 by albertob

Currently reading Daniel Dennet's Breaking The Spell.

The fact that religion is a natural phenomena doesn't necessarily mean that it is not important and that it could play a vital role in people's life. Independently of the critical need of a purely secular social code, believing in a supernatural force could help humans to overcome pain and loneliness.

We can easily understand that the force of romantic love, for example, is perfectly explainable in terms of evolutionary biology, and we able to accept its dependency to the chemicals that drive our lives as invisible rips. But this knowledge doesn't stop the magic of love. Reason doesn't stop us from falling passionately for someone and enjoying the pain and happiness attached to give love and to be loved.

A friend lost a baby, frustation and ressentfulness against fate fill his mind. Today we talked about God during a long trip. He is a smart chap, during the conversation he is capable to link ideas that drive him into something of an spiritual void. But he needs to find a reason for his suffering, to understand that there's more than a medical explanation for his lost. He needs to believe and he better does, as far as it helps, the spell is rebuilt. Truth is not a variable here.

Maybe religion is a compensation of our blindness, or idiocy, as human beings. We are a extremely shortsighted and imperfect animal. Language, a survival tool, created self-conscience as a subproduct. Religion maybe born as an indirect way of building bridges with a very basic and intuitive reality, the fact that we are not alone, that, among all the atoms and possible configurations of the universe, we are the lucky chosen that could witness such a wonderful world.

 

George Harrison's Long Long Long:

 

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The Rip

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 07-Feb-2009 by albertob
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One year of Oestesurf.com

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 06-Feb-2009 by albertob

As posted on http://www.webjam.com/community/

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

One year ago a huge winter swell was hitting the coast of Galicia, near my home town.

If there's something I miss from that little corner of Europe it's the waves, those wonderful beaches and a crazy bunch of old surfers that still think of me as a friend.
I missed them so much that I asked my good friend, surfer and photographer maxnemo to help me to set up a site on Webjam so he could share with the pictures of the ocean and the epic stories of those days.
That was the beginning of Oestesurf.com

 

 

A few weeks later the whole gang were posting as co-editors of the blog. Alberto (maxnemo), Iago, Perry, Daniel, Walter and myself, started sharing short stories, memories, thoughts and future plans. The Oeste manifesto defines the blog as a surfer anthropology research and goes well beyond the sport, there's lot's of literature, art, politics and a huge and witty sense of humour.

The webjam grew organically, new pages dedicated to pictures of waves and local surfers, weather and ocean information widgets, another blog about music (the other big passion of these guys), Walter´s surfboards shop, forums, videos, literary games, articles, you name it... maxnemo started to post first hand information about the weather and the waves, that's the luxury of living in front of the ocean.

And then... people started to flock to the site. Some of the posts got more than 100 comments, new collaborators appeared from nowhere. People of all over the Spanish coast registered and commented on the site, and Oestesurf became one of the key references of the spanish surfing blogosphere, with a loyal base of 4000 unique users per month.

But this post is not about the success of a site. Tomorrow Oestesurf is organising a real surf contest at my local beach, it's becoming a real association and it even has a physical place to meet after a good session. That's the real success, something that started as a simple personal request in a sad winter afternoon at the office has become a real community that is helping to make some people's lives slightly better.
Webjam managed to deliver on its promise of empowering and engaging people at many levels. By offering an easy to use, scalable and flexible tool, Webjam has gone well beyond a set of web features and has became a true community builder.

Alberto (surfer and co-founder of Webjam)

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Black Swans

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 04-Feb-2009 by albertob

“The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts: therefore, guard accordingly, and take care that you entertain no notions unsuitable to virtue and reasonable nature. Yet the object of this life is not to be on the side of the majority….. but to escape finding oneself in the ranks of the insane.”

 

grabbed from this post from Pano Kroko

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...and then the snow

 5 Comments- Add comment Written on 02-Feb-2009 by albertob

Sometimes life seems to conspire against you, and the only think you want it's just a break, to stop this world for spinning, take a breath and after a good rest, to keep moving.

I had one of those weeks and everything I did seemed to make things even worse.

And then, the snow... and the world just stopped.

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Winter Blues

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 23-Jan-2009 by albertob

Afternoon,

I cannot avoid feeling the winter blues these days. Today, despite the rain, the dark skies and the sight of a few more months of misery ahead, it's a good day, two news gave me hope:

One: Obama is moving towards progress and reason and it's encouraging the federal support on stem-sell research
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/health/article5569623.ece
Last night I bought another book on the topic: "Superstition. Belief in the Age of Science", that I cannot but recommend. Who would think that the main challenges of the new century will be the fight between believers and heretics, between humanists and fundamentalists, like in the Middle Ages.

The other good stuff is the discovery of Yuko Nasu, a japanese co-student from Saint Martins and a follower of Bacon, with a softer but more melancholic approach to portrait.

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La Perla

 7 Comments- Add comment Written on 21-Jan-2009 by albertob
lasirenasmall.jpg
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personal cosmology

 6 Comments- Add comment Written on 16-Jan-2009 by albertob

plant a tree, have a baby, write a book, create a personal cosmology (I would add)

I planted a bean when I was a kid at school; I also published a few articles here and there, nothing serious; haven't had a baby yet... I am trying to find a genetically fitted volunteer to conceive. And today I am going to start to write my own amateur view of the universe.

 

Chapter I.

Everything started over and over with big explosions. Everything was, is and will be there, including the possibility of you reading this page. But also every other single possibility was there too, and not once but infinite times before and infinite times in the future.

 

Chapter II

As maybe every possible universe exist simultaneously you better stay in the best possible one.

Not sure you can choose in which universe you can live, just be nice and smile, that would probably help.

 

 

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Hamfatter - The Girl I Love

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 12-Jan-2009 by albertob

Daniel told me to make happy and witty music like this:


he is right... I wish I could...
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Webjam-Jam Session

 3 Comments- Add comment Written on 09-Jan-2009 by albertob

Yes, you are right, Webjam is a company full of hard working, talented, creative and serious people.
But we also ROCK!!!!, here is the proof. John made a video while we were jamming at the funniest corporate party ever.
Bryan at the guitar, Luke with the microphone, Marcus interrupting the performance and myself at the bass.

 

 

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God

 9 Comments- Add comment Written on 07-Jan-2009 by albertob

If God exists, He/She would love us to become militant atheists.
That would be the ultimate proof of his love, to let us go as adults, mature, critical, self-conscious, free, fearless and independent beings. Exactly like any good parents do to their siblings.

Si Dios existe, El/Ella querría que fuéramos ateos militantes.
Esta sería la definitiva prueba de Su amor: dejarnos ir como seres adultos, maduros, críticos, conscientes, libres, sin miedo e independientes. Tal y como cada buen padre hace con sus hijos.

 

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I'm Back

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 06-Jan-2009 by albertob

Tired, sleepy, injured, poisoned, confused, in pain, slightly depressed but absolutely glad to be back to this old and crazy town.

It has been a cathartic time, lots of small events that drove me to the edge of insanity.

Happy to be back,

I hope 09 works fine for us.

 

 

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Holidays!!!!

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 19-Dec-2008 by albertob

Yes! yes! yes!

Hi two or three readers of this excellent source of coolness.
I am off to my beloved hometown for a couple of weeks (if the weather, pilot strikes, airport staff strikes, plane mechanics failures, overbooking, etc... allow me to have a nice and peaceful flight away from this island).

No plans whatsoever (well, maybe just one or two), good reading, good resting, good friends and if my decaying body resists the cold of the Ocean, a little bit of surfing.

How to celebrate this very moment? Only one hour left to close the computer, some little bits and pieces to finalise and that's it!!!!, one more year of fun and exausting work sorted. It is tough, difficult and challenging to make your own company work (or survive, given the circunstances), but it's also exciting and rewarding, specially when you are surrounded by a great buch of people.

So, dear friends, thanks a lot for everything (and sorry if I messed you up a little bit). 2009 is going to be A W E S O M E !!!! for all of us (Disclaimer: if it is not, it's not my fault, blame Bush or the bankers).

What could be the song of this moment??? something from Belle and Sebastian or Sufjan Stevens, maybe?? let's see....
The winner is Elbow, with a beautiful song called Starlings:

How dare the Premier ignore my invitations?
He'll have to go
So, too, the bunch he luncheons with
It's second on my list of things to do

At the top I'm stopping by
Your place of work and acting like
I haven't dreamed of you and I
And marriage in an orange grove
You are the only thing in any room you're ever in
I'm stubborn, selfish and too old.

I sat you down and told you how
the truest love that's ever found
Is for oneself
You pulled apart my theory
With a weary and disinterested sigh

So yes I guess I'm asking you
To back a horse that's good for glue
And nothing else
But find a man that's truer than,
Find a man that needs you more than I

Sit with me a while
And let me listen to you talk about
your dreams and your obsessions
I'll be quiet and confessional
The violets explode inside me
when I meet your eyes
Then I'm spinning and I'm diving
Like a cloud of starlings

Darling is this love?

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

Love you all,

Alberto

 

 

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Random oximoron

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 16-Oct-2008 by albertob

 

 

I can't face his face...

 

 

Listened at the office stairs, coming from a woman talking very loudly at her mobile.

 

 

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To watch tonite

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 14-Oct-2008 by albertob

 

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=7065205277695921912

 

Zeigeist it's called. It some kind of documentary about the big evil conspiration that keeps humanity slave: The Monetary System.
So... it keeps going on and on about the intrinsic corruption of the "system", the politicians, the religions, all the institutions, the american government (including Obama), the CIA, globalisation, free trade, bankers... the whole lot.
and then.... this guy appears: a product designer, and starts talking about "the venus project". The thesis goes like that: money won't save us, politicians won't save us, religion is a no no, what's left?: technology!. Thanks to technology we wont have to work (machines do) so we won't need salaries, so we are free from money and corruption, or something. 
This part of the film was illustrated with images from "the venus project", images of utopic cities, run by utopic energy sources, fliying cars, buildings taken from an old Flash Gordon movie, super fast trains.... (but not many squares for people).

Anyway... at that time I stopped watching it.

Dear reader, if one of your sensitive and social councious friends recommends this video to you, just don't listen, watch Futurama instead, or Family Guy.

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Paul Klee y las profundidades

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 12-Oct-2008 by albertob

"Es misión del artista penetrar cuanto sea posible en ese terreno secreto donde la ley primordial alimenta el desarrollo. ¿Qué artista no desearía habitar el órgano central de todo movimiento en el espacio-tiempo (sea el cerebro o el corazón de la creación) del cual derivan su vida todas las funciones? ¿En el seno de la naturaleza, en el terreno primordial de la creación, donde está escondida la clave secreta de todas las cosas...? Nuestro latiente corazón nos lleva hacia abajo, muy abajo del terreno primordial."

"lo percibido secretamente se hace visible"

"Mi mano es totalmente el instrumento de una esfera más distante. Ni es mi cabeza la que funciona en la obra; es algo más"

Paul Klee.


Citas recogidas de "El simbolismo en las Artes Visuales" Aniela Jaffé. Incluido en "El hombre y sus símbolos" Carl G. Jung


Paul Klee "Six Types"

 

La misteriosa Caja Azul en Mulholland Drive (David Lynch)

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Where The Ideas Come From

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 12-Oct-2008 by albertob

Another insight on David Lynch's creative process:

  

 

 as seen here: http://podcasts.theatlantic.com/2008/07/where-ideas-come-from.php

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David Lynch: Consciousness, Creativity and the Brain

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 12-Oct-2008 by albertob

El hilo se va desenredando.

En una búsqueda en Google sobre los arquetipos de Jung en las películas de David Lynch, encontré la siguiente conferencia de Lynch sobre conciencia y creatividad, acompañado por un especialista en Física Cuántica.
El proceso creativo es análogo al que vengo describiendo.

 

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Estética psicoanalítica

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 11-Oct-2008 by albertob

"Este argumento ilustra la forma en los que aparecen los arquetipos en la experiencia práctica: son. al mismo tiempo, imágenes y emociones. Se puede hablar de un arquetipo sólo cuando estos aspectos son simultáneos. Cuando meramente se tiene la imagen, entonces es sólo una imagen oral de escasa importancia. Pero al estar cargada de emoción, la imagen gana numinosidad (o energía psiquica); se hace dinámica, y de ella han de salir consecuencias de alguna clase.

Me doy cuenta de que es dificil captar este concepto, porque estoy tratando de emplear palabras para describir algo cuya verdadera naturaleza lo hace incapaz de definición exacta. Pero, puesto que hay mucha gente que se empeña en considerar los arquetipos como si fueran parte de un sistema mecánico que se puede aprender de memoria, es esencial insistir en que no son meros nombres, ni aun conceptos filosóficos. Son trozos de vida misma, imágenes que están integramente unidas al individuo por el puente de las emociones. Por eso resulta imposible dar una interpretación arbritaria (o universal) de ningún arquetipo. Hay que aplicarlo en la forma indicada por el conjunto vida-situación del individuo determinado a quién se refiere."

 Carl G. Jung. El Hombre y sus Símbolos, 1964

 

Jung habla de los arquetipos que surgen en el inconsciente humano, pero su definición puede ser fácilmente aplicable a la experiencia estética.
Si pensamos en los objetos de arte como "arquetipos": imagen + emoción; y los entendemos como trozos dinámicos de vida, dependientes del sujeto observador tenemos una explicación bastante detallada del fenómeno artístico.

La función del artista es la de servir de puente entre el mundo simbólico y el real mediante la representación de imágenes transformadas, mediante el proceso artístico (ideación, realización, contexto), en figuras arquetípicas, capaces de significar de una manera abierta.
Volvemos así a la definición del artista, como medium (Duchamp), shamán (Bill Hicks) o sacerdote (Jung), pero en este caso a a través de un razonamiento empírico, y de esta manera encontrar un camino para entender la capacidad significante de las obras de arte y la escurridiza relación entre arte y vida. (había tratado este tema en un cuento: Anterior al Hombre).

La pregunta está ahora en la clave del proceso creativo: "la emoción".
Yo soy de los que creen que el arte mejora "cuanto más alejado está el hombre que crea del hombre que siente" y que la emoción se confunde muy facilmente con el sentimentalismo. Así que dada las complejidad del tema, lo dejamos para otro momento. 

EtantDonnes 
Marcel Duchamp: Etant Donnes, 1968

 

 

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The Beta Manifest of Brand 3.0 (Cristian Saracco)

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 08-Oct-2008 by albertob

dale!:



Found and enjoyed in The Semantic Branding

 

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The Economist cover

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 08-Oct-2008 by albertob

via WTF Microsiervos > Redit 

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Confianza

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 08-Oct-2008 by albertob
Copio y pego este artículo porque explica muy bien la situación y las causas de la Crisis sin caer en alarmismos ni crítica demagógica:
 
La Confianza.
Pedro Swartz. Editorial ABC 08 Octubre 2008
 
LA crisis inmobiliaria y financiera, iniciada en el verano de 2007 y agravada en los recientes meses de 2008, ha animado a los socialistas de todos los partidos a lanzarse en tromba contra ese capitalismo que los socialistas llaman «salvaje» y los conservadores tildan de «antipático». Con malsana satisfacción señalan que ni siquiera los partidarios del libre mercado dejan de llamar al papá Estado cuando las cosas empiezan a irles mal. ¿Tienen acaso razón? ¿Se deben las presentes angustias a la codicia de banqueros y especuladores movidos por un egoísmo sin freno? ¿Significa todo esto que debemos abandonar el mercado semi-libre en que vivimos y volver a un sistema detalladamente intervenido por los políticos?
Lo primero de todo es entender cómo funciona un sistema financiero moderno. Sin duda está basado en la confianza, pero no en la confianza de que todo va a seguir en continua expansión. Son muchas las inversiones equivocadas y compañías mal dirigidas que han de desaparecer, por lo que una recesión mundial es inevitable. Sostener cueste lo que cueste la actividad inmobiliaria, el empleo industrial, la oferta de servicios de los años de excesivo optimismo, sin revisar nada, no haría sino prolongar la crisis durante años, como ocurrió en Japón en la década de los años ochenta. Una profunda reestructuración acortaría la crisis pero tendría que incluir la liberalización del mercado de trabajo español y la decidida apertura del mundo al libre comercio. Sea corto o largo este período, necesitamos confianza en una cosa principal: la moneda; la moneda con la que valoramos los bienes y servicios, esa moneda con la que compramos y vendemos y atesoramos para alguna contingencia futura.
El sistema monetario en el que nos desenvolvemos es un sistema «fiduciario», es decir, basado en la «fiducia» o fe general. Aceptamos euros, dólares, yenes, en pago de lo que vendemos porque confiamos en otros los aceptarán en pago de lo que les demandemos. Ese dinero que usamos en el mercado no consiste sólo en monedas y billetes emitidos por un banco central público: la mayoría de nuestros recursos monetarios tiene la forma de depósitos bancarios. A esos depósitos acudimos para obtener billetes en un cajero automático, o para responder de un cheque que entregamos, o para saldar una cuenta con una tarjeta de pago. El sistema fiduciario moderno contribuye a crear una estupenda prosperidad, pero punteada con dolorosos vaivenes. En cambio, las sociedades primitivas vivían una interminable repetición, sometidas sólo a los azotes de la cruel naturaleza.
El dinero que usamos diariamente está expuesto a dos tipos de inseguridad: la que afecta al dinero emitido por los bancos centrales, porque la inflación en el interior y la devaluación en el exterior erosionan su valor; y la que afecta al dinero bancario, cuando los bancos que custodian nuestros depósitos suspenden pagos. No hay que olvidar que los bancos comerciales se comprometen a devolver los depósitos de sus clientes pese a que su monto alcanza cien, doscientas, quinientas veces su caja, pues confían en que no todos los depositantes querrán retirar sus depósitos a la vez. Los defensores del capitalismo moderno nunca hemos dicho que un sistema fiduciario pueda funcionar sin intervención pública alguna. Un club de bancos como es el de cada una de nuestras zonas monetarias necesita un prestamista de última instancia. Acabamos de ver al Gobierno británico nacionalizar el banco Northern Rock en cuanto se formaron colas de personas ansiosas de retirar su dinero; o a los Gobiernos de Irlanda y Alemania garantizar el 100 por 100 de lo depositado en la banca de su país: todo para que no cunda el pánico. No otro que éste de mantener el sistema de pagos es el objetivo del fondo de 700 mil millones de dólares creado en EE.UU. para comprar activos «envenenados» de la banca.
La experiencia de lo ocurrido durante la Gran Contracción de 1929-31 está en las mentes de todos los banqueros centrales. No en vano ha sido Bernanke un estudioso de esa gran depresión de los años treinta. Recuerdo un almuerzo ofrecido a Milton Friedman en el Banco de España por Mariano Rubio cuando era gobernador. Salió el tema del salvamento de bancos españoles en la segunda mitad de la década 1980. «Hicieron ustedes bien, dijo Friedman, y también acertaron al prestar liquidez al mercado financiero en momentos de posible quiebra del sistema de pagos. Todo menos repetir la actuación de la Reserva Federal al principio de los treinta: permitió la caída del Bank of United States y otros muchos bancos; y retiró grandes cantidades de oro de la circulación sin emitir dinero en contrapartida». Cuando una economía se queda sin dinero, sea bancario, sea público, el sistema se gripa. Se necesita una mínima garantía de los depósitos privados, además de inyecciones temporales de liquidez, si los individuos hacemos caja y los bancos se niegan a prestarse los unos a los otros.
El sistema capitalista no se cuartea porque esté basado en el egoísmo y la codicia, pasiones sempiternas del ser humano. No son los banqueros de negocios ni los especuladores profesionales los únicos que han pecado de codicia e imprudencia. Las parejas que apenas alcanzaban a cubrir gastos y que se endeudaban para especular con una segunda vivienda; los agentes financieros que colocaban hipotecas baratas o crédito al consumo a quienes no podrían soportar ni un leve encarecimiento del dinero; los consumidores que abusaban de las tarjetas de crédito para irse de vacaciones o comprar un coche nuevo; los políticos que garantizaban y siguen garantizando las pensiones públicas y la salud gratuita, pese a que no son sostenibles; todos ellos y otros muchos más han sido y son codiciosos. No se trata de maniatar la actividad empresarial con enfadosas regulaciones ni de castigar el deseo de mejora personal y profesional con pesados impuestos, como proponen esos socialistas de todos los partidos. La cuestión estriba en reducir la inestabilidad de las sociedades capitalistas todo lo posible con reformas institucionales acertadas.
La base última de esta crisis, que ha hecho tambalearse la pirámide invertida de especulación, se encuentra en unos tipos de interés oficiales ridículamente bajos y una desatada creación de liquidez por nuestros bancos centrales, a lo largo de los últimos veinte años. Greenspan y los demás gobernadores inundaron el mercado con liquidez para salir de la crisis de 1987, para contrarrestar el efecto «año 2000» en el reloj de los computadores, y para calmar el pánico de las Torres Gemelas. Todo ello contribuyó a inflar la llamada «burbuja» de Internet, cuyo reventón se quiso evitar con más ríos de dinero. ¡Con decir que Greenspan llegó a mantener durante meses el tipo de interés oficial al uno por ciento! La reciente fiebre de prosperidad ha durado cinco años, gracias a que las importaciones de China e India contenían los precios al consumo, mientras se disparaba el valor de las casas y las acciones. Cuando en 2007 la construcción y alquiler de inmuebles empezaron a no producir los réditos esperados, el ciclo se invirtió. El mercado a la postre ha funcionado, al hacer quebrar los negocios mal planteados y obligar al saneamiento de los que en ellos se apoyaban.
Es sin duda necesario mejorar la regulación del sistema financiero, sobre todo en la exigencia de mucha mayor información. Pero la regulación financiera más necesaria sería atar en corto a los gobernadores de bancos centrales. Una cosa es que el sistema suministre crédito a la innovación y la inversión, otra muy distinta es que los bancos centrales creen liquidez sin tasa. Ha fallado el Estado, no el mercado.
PEDRO SCHWARTZ
de la Real Academia de Ciencias Morales y Políticas
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Atom and Cell

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 06-Oct-2008 by albertob

Music for a crisis. Number 1. 

Atom and Cell by David Sylvian (Nine Horses).
Beautiful video too: Shoko Ise, photographer/ video artist: epiphanyworks.net 

 
Her skin was darker than ashes
And she had something to say
Bout being naked to the elements
At the end of yet another day
And the rain on her back that continued to fall
From the bruise of her lips
Swollen, fragile, and small

And the bills that you paid with were worth nothing at all
A lost foreign currency
Multi-coloured, barely reputable
Like the grasses that blew in the warm summer breeze
Well she offered you this to do as you pleased

And where is the poetry?
Didn’t she promise us poetry?


The redwoods, the deserts, the tropical ease
The swamps and the prairie dogs, the Joshua trees
The long straight highways from dirt road to tar
Hitching your wheels to truck, bus, or car

And the lives that you hold in the palm of your hand
You toss them aside small and damn near unbreakable
You drank all the water and you pissed yourself dry
Then you fell to your knees and proceeded to cry

And who could feel sorry for a drunkard like this
In a democracy of dunces with a parasites kiss?

And where are the stars?
Didn’t she promise us stars?

Nothing will ever be as it was
The price has been paid with a thousand loose shoes
Pictures are pasted on shop windows and walls
Like a poor mans Boltanski
Lost one and all.

Sell, sell
Bid your farewell
Come, come
Save yourself
Give yourself over
Pushing your consciousness
Deep into every atom and cell,
Sell,
Bid your farewell
Come, come
Save yourself
Give yourself over
Pushing your consciousness
Deep into every atom and cell,
Sell,
Bid your farewell
Come, come
Save yourself
Give yourself over
Pushing your consciousness
Deep into every atom and cell 

 

 

 

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Aventuras Domésticas

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 05-Oct-2008 by albertob

  "Kublai: No sé cuando has tenido tiempo de visitar todos los paises que me describes. A mí me parece que nunca te has movido de este jardín.

    Polo: Todo lo que veo y hago cobra sentido en un espacio de la mente donde reina la misma calma que aquí, la misma penumbra, el mismo silencio recorrido por crujidos de hojas. En el momento en que me concentro en la reflexión, me encuentro siempre en este jardín, a esta hora de la noche, en tu augusta presencia, mientras sigo remontando sin un instante de descanso un río verde de cocodrilos o contando las barricas de pescado salado que bajan a la bodega.

   Kublai: Tampoco estoy yo seguro de estar aquí, paseando entre las fuentes del pórfido, escuchando el eco de los surtidores y no impregnado de sudor y sangre cabalgando a la cabeza de mi ejército, conquistando los paises que tú tendrás que describir, o tronchando los dedos de los asaltantes que escalan los muros de una fortaleza asediada.

   Polo: Tal vez este jardín sólo exista a la sombra de nuestros párpados bajos y nunca hayamos cesado, tú de levantar el polvo en los campos de batalla, yo de contratar costales de pimienta en lejanos mercados, pero cada vez que entrecerramos los ojos en medio del estruendo y la muchedumbre, nos esté permitido retirarnos aquí, vestidos con quimonos de seda, para considerar lo que estamos viendo y viviendo, sacar conclusiones, contemplar desde lejos.

  Kublai: Tal vez este diálogo nuestro se desenvuelva entre dos miserables apodados Kublai Kan y Marco Polo, que revuelven en un basurero, amontonando chatarra oxidada, jirones de trapos, papeles viejos, y borrachos, con unos pocos sorbos de ma vino, ven resplandecer en torno todos los tesoros de Oriente.

  Polo: Tal vez del mundo haya quedado un terreno baldío cubierto de inmundicias y el jardín flotante del palacio del Gran Kan. Son nuestros párpados los que los separan, pero no se sabe cual está dentro y cual está fuera."

Las Ciudades Invisibles. Italo Calvino.

 

 

Tal vez somo dos, uno que sobrevive, otro que sueña.

Dos que no se conocen, sólo se intuyen, uno que despierta cuando el otro duerme.
Uno que arrastra el polvo del viaje y otro que permanece en el salón leyendo los recuerdos.
Viviendo en dos mundos rotos, separados, que hacen que ninguno sea cierto, que ninguno seamos ciertos.

Esperando La Reconciliación,

Aventuras Domésticas.

 

Perhaps we are two, one who survives, another who dreams.
Two that don't know each other. Only an intuition, one who wakes up when the other sleeps.
One who drags the dust from travels; other who stays in the living room, reading memories.
Living in two broken worlds, separated, so none of them seem real, none of us seem real.

Waiting for the Reconciliation,

Domestic Adventures. 

 

dom04

S/T Bad Godesber Series. de la serie "Aventuras Domésticas" 2000

 

 

 

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A formula for the 21st century. part II

 4 Comments- Add comment Written on 24-Sep-2008 by albertob

Two hand made formulas.

Marcus's formula for a better world (yes, he can behave like a sentitive individual from time to time):

xx_sq2

 

and mine (a bit of a rip off of Duchamp's artist coeficient):

lambda

 

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A formula for the 21st century

 6 Comments- Add comment Written on 22-Sep-2008 by albertob

"Design a formula for the 21st century’ – that was the directive from the Swiss art critic Hans Ulrich Obrist to a selection of the world’s greatest creative thinkers". Found on The Independent Magazine last Saturday. The whole article here.

One of my favourites bellow:
chaos-chance_55028a
by Tacita Dean

I am sure Marcus has something to say about it.

I also like this one fron J.G. Ballard.

ballard_54807a 

 

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An inside view of the financial crisis

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 20-Sep-2008 by albertob
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Today's Quote

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 17-Sep-2008 by albertob

The Wise Man said:

"Never trust a man who gave up smoking. If he is able to give up smoking he is able of anything"

(PC PS: this quote is also applicable to women)

 

 

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El jardín de los senderos que se bifurcan

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 14-Sep-2008 by albertob

"...En todas las ficciones, cada vez que un hombre se enfrenta con diversas alternativas, opta por una y elimina las otras; en la del casi inextricable Ts'ui Pên, opta —simultáneamente— por todas. Crea, así, diversos porvenires, diversos tiempos, que también, proliferan y se bifurcan. De ahí las contradicciones de la novela. Fang, digamos, tiene un secreto; un desconocido llama a su puerta; Fang resuelve matarlo. Naturalmente, hay varios desenlaces posibles: Fang puede matar al intruso, el intruso puede matar a Fang, ambos pueden salvarse, ambos pueden morir, etcétera. En la obra de Ts'ui Pên, todos los desenlaces ocurren; cada uno es el punto de partida de otras bifurcaciones.Alguna vez, los senderos de ese laberinto convergen; por ejemplo, usted llega a esta casa, pero en uno de los pasados posibles usted es mi enemigo, en otro mi amigo. 

...La explicación es obvia:El jardín de los senderos que se bifurcan es una imágen incompleta, pero no falsa, del universo tal como lo concebía Ts'ui Pên. A diferencia de Newton y de Schopenhauer, su antepasado no creía en un tiempo uniforme, absoluto. Creía en infinitas series de tiempos, en una red creciente y vertiginosa de tiempos divergentes, convergentes y paralelos. Esa trama de tiempos que se aproximan, se bifurcan, se cortan o que secularmente se ignoran, abarca todas la posibilidades. No existimos en la mayoría de esos tiempos; en algunos existe usted y no yo; en otros, yo, no usted; en otros, los dos. En éste, que un favorable azar me depara, usted ha llegado a mi casa; en otro, usted, al atravesar el jardín, me ha encontrado muerto; en otro, yo digo estas mismas palabras, pero soy un error, un fantasma. "

José Luis Borges, El jardín de los senderos que se bifurcan.

 

Siguiendo con las vagas disquisiciones metafísicas del post anterior, creo que Borges explica mejor que yo la(s) conclusión(es) de la historia(s) de los varios porvenires. 

dom02
"Untitled, from the serie "Domestic Adventures", 2000, Translucent print on mirror glass, 70 x 50 cm

 

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About randomness

 9 Comments- Add comment Written on 14-Sep-2008 by albertob

With the help of a couple of beers and an unusual nice temperature, Marcus and I spent some time this evening in a terrace enjoying an amateur pseudo-metaphysical chat.
He was making the point of the determinist nature of life and nature: randomness doesn’t exist, it just that we are unable to calculate the complex equations that rule the events., which make sense.
In the other hand, maybe biased by my catholic education, I cannot avoid the feeling that some things just make sense, some events seem to be meaningful and part of some kind of narrative.
Humans are experts on the creation of narratives, we are symbolic beings and we need to create the “illusion of sense” in order to simplify the complexity of the world. We are good at taking random events and add them to a coherent narrative, after they happen.

It seems difficult to find a unify theory that takes Marcus point: things happens one after another in the only way that can happen, with no purpose, just because a huge algorithm start running millions of years ago and keeps pushing things to occur; and the “intuition” of meaning that I cannot avoid.
Based on Marcus’s point of view, taking it to an extreme, all events in the universe were there in the very moment of the Big Bang, all what we see is just the consequence of it. You must agree that is fucking luck that the Big Bang, a chaotic explosion of matter included in it’s formula the infinitesimal small chance that you and I exist and that we are in this very moment writing or reading this amateur text. But we are here, we can think on this, so it’s true, it happened, we are the miraculous result of a huge equation.
Think on the Big Bang explosion as a huge dice with infinite sides which is continuously rolling. It felt in one side, which is where we are. But there’s no reason to think that there’s only one result. Why one and not 3, or 875943 universes? Does “God” have a preference for the number 1?  Why one and not infinite?
Let’s imagine those infinite universes that overlap and exist simultaneously, one per each possible permutation of the “Big Marcus Equation”. In this very moment “every” possibility is actually happening. Everything is happening.


How does it tie with the idea of a narrative and meaning?
The 99.999….. percent of those infinite universes are probably random and chaotic.
Let’s think now on human consciousness as a very adapted entity able to survive the chaos of the infinite universes.
How does it help us to survive?: by creating a narrative. The consciousness drives each of us through a coherent sequence of possible universes. It’s constantly selecting the paths that keep us in a coherent world.
The theory is a bit solipsist, but I am glad it chose to drive me in the path were Spain won the Eurocup.

 

 PS (morning after update):

anx08 

 

This is an obscure artwork I made for my first solo exhibition in 1995, or so, I can't remember, it came to my mind this morning. It's composed of 3 broken pieces of glass hanged perpendicularly to the wall, one next to the other. Basically the idea was to present, as a transparent and simultaneous event, three random possible stages of the same thing (a square glass broken in three different ways). Three different possible paths (fates) that exist in alternatives “universes” that do not exclude each other. This is more or less what I was trying to say above.

The plastic solution wasn't very affortunate and nobody understood what I was trying to talk about, but it was fun. I am reusing this idea for my next art works (this time I will need Marcus's help)

 

 

 

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the creative act

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 12-Sep-2008 by albertob

THE CREATIVE ACT
by Marcel Duchamp


"Let us consider two important factors, the two poles of the creation of art: the artist on the one hand, and on the other the spectator who later becomes the posterity.
To all appearances, the artist acts like a mediumistic being who, from the labyrinth beyond time and space, seeks his way out to a clearing".


"If we give the attributes of a medium to the artist, we must then deny him the state of consciousness on the esthetic plane about what he is doing or why he is doing it. All his decisions in the artistic execution of the work rest with pure intuition and cannot be translated into a self-analysis, spoken or written, or even thought out."


"I know that this statement will not meet with the approval of many artists who refuse this mediumistic role and insist on the validity of their awareness in the creative act - yet, art history has consistently decided upon the virtues of a work of art thorough considerations completely divorced from the rationalized explanations of the artist."

"This phenomenon is comparable to a transference from the artist to the spectator in the form of an esthetic osmosis taking place through the inert matter, such as pigment, piano or marble."


"What I have in mind is that art may be bad, good or indifferent, but, whatever adjective is used, we must call it art, and bad art is still art in the same way that a bad emotion is still an emotion".

"The result of this struggle is a difference between the intention and its realization, a difference which the artist is not aware of. Consequently, in the chain of reactions accompanying the creative act, a link is missing. This gap, representing the inability of the artist to express fully his intention, this difference between what he intended to realize and did realize, is the personal 'art coefficient' contained in the work".

In other works, the personal 'art coefficient' is like a arithmetical relation between the unexpressed but intended and the unintentionally expressed".

"To avoid a misunderstanding, we must remember that this 'art coefficient' is a personal expression of art a` l'e`tat brut, that is, still in a raw state, which must be 'refined' as pure sugar from molasses by the spectator; the digit of this coefficient has no bearing whatsoever on his verdict. The creative act takes another aspect when the spectator experiences the phenomenon of transmutation: through the change from inert matter into a work of art, an actual transubtantiation has taken place, and the role of the spectator is to determine the weight of the work on the esthetic scale."

"All in all, the creative act is not performed by the artist alone; the spectator brings the work in contact with the external world by deciphering and interpreting its inner qualification and thus adds his contribution to the creative act. This becomes even more obvious when posterity gives a final verdict and sometimes rehabilitates forgotten artists."

(From Session on the Creative Act, Convention of the American Federation of Arts, Houston, Texas, April 1957)

 babitz-duchamp

Another note following the topic that is bugging me lately. Another example, maybe my favourite, of this two ideas:

1- The idea of the artist as a medium at the service of some kind of "labyrinth beyond time and space", very similar in definition to Jung's "cosmogonic entity", Paz's "real world" or Bill Hick's "True Reality". Different names for the same intuition.

2- The impossibility of language to describe the above.

more to come...

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Large Hadron Collider

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 10-Sep-2008 by albertob

"the most expensive art work in human history" as read in today´s Independent.

 

what if they find the world is made of pixels?, that would be fun.

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Sobre el Amor

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 08-Sep-2008 by albertob

"Mi experiencia como médico, al igual que mi propia vida, me han puesto incesantemente ante la pregunta sobre el amor, y nunca fuí capaz de darle una respuesta válida. Como Job, tuve que 'taparme la boca con la mano. Hablé una vez, no he de repetir' (Job, 40, 4 s). Aquí se trata de lo más grande y de lo más pequeño, de lo más lejano y de lo más cercano, de lo más alto y de lo más hondo, y nunca puede decirse una cosa sin la otra. Ninguna lengua se encuentra a la altura de esta paradoja. Sea lo que sea que puede decirse, ninguna palabra expresa la totalidad. Hablar de aspectos parciales es siempre excesivo o demasiado poco, cuando lo que tiene sentido es solamente la totalidad. El amor 'todo lo soporta' y 'todo lo espera' (1 Cor 13, 7). Este texto lo dice todo. No podría agregársele nada. Nosotros en el sentido más profundo, somos las víctimas o los medios del 'amor' cosmogónico. Pongo esta palabra entre comillas para dejar claro que con ello no me refiero meramene al anhelo, a la preferencia, al favor, al deseo y cosas similares, sino al todo, único e indivisible, que supera al individuo. El ser humano, como parte, no comprende el todo. Se encuentra sometido a él. Puede decir 'sí' o puede enojarse; pero siempre está atrapado y encerrado en el todo. Siempre depende de él y está fundado en él. El amor es su luz y su tiniebla, cuyo final no alcanza a ver.´El amor no acaba nunca´, incluso si hablase ´las lenguas de los ángeles´ o si persiguiese con su rigor científico la vida de la célula hasta su fondo más recóndito. Puede documentar el amor con todos los nombres que están a su disposición pero solamente se perderá en infinitos autoengaños. Si posee un gramo de sabiduría rendirá las armas y llamará a lo ignotum per ignotus, es decir, con los nombres divinos. Esto constituirá una expresión de su inferioridad, imperfección y dependencia, pero a la vez un testimonio de su libertad de elección entre la verdad y el error."

Carl Gustav Jung, Recuerdos, sueños, pensamientos.

After Vertigo
Untitled, After Vertigo, 2003, glossy print on paper 150x100 

Siguiendo con el tema de los post anteriores he encontrado este bonito texto de Jung.
Me llaman la atención dos cosas del texto: la imposibilidad del lenguaje de comunicar la esencia del "amor", tal como discutíamos Paul y yo más abajo; y la exisitencia del amor como un ente "cosmogónico" superior/exterior al hombre, del que tan solo somos "víctimas" o "medios".
Jung en sus textos sobre el amor, recuerda que tan solo unos pocos llegan a comprender su significado; aquellos que alcanzan la sabiduría a través de "conocerse a sí mismo" y por ello logran re-conocer junto a ellos a otra persona en toda su individualidad y plenitud.

Rindamos las armas.

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El castillo de la pureza

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 31-Aug-2008 by albertob

"Gracias al humor Duchamp se defiende de su obra y de nosotros, que la contemplamos, la admiramos y escribimos sobre ella. Su actitud nos enseña - aunque él nunca se haya propuesto enseñarnos nada- que el fin de la actividad artística no es la obra sino la libertad. La obra es el camino y nada más. Esta libertad es ambigua, o mejor dicho, condicional: a cada instante podemos perderla, sobre todo si tomamos en serio nuestra persona o nuestras obras. Tal vez para subrayar el carácter provisional de toda libertad, no terminó el Gran Vidrio; así no se volvió su esclavo. La relación de Duchamp con sus creaciones es indefinida y contradictoria: son suyas y son de aquellos que las contemplan. Por eso las ha regalado con frecuencia: son instrumentos de liberación. En su abandono de la pintura no hay patetismo romántico no orgullo de titán; hay sabiduría, loca sabiduría. No un saber de esto o aquello, no afirmación ni negación: vacío, saber de indiferencia. Sabiduría y libertad, vacío e indiferencia se resuelven en una palabra clave: pureza. Algo que no se busca sino que brota espontáneamente después de haber pasado por ciertas experiencias. Pureza es aquello que queda después de todas las sumas y restas. Igitur termina con estas palabras: La Néant parti, reste la chateau de la pureté."

Octavio Paz, Marcel Duchamp o el castillo de la pureza.


Cierro un año de "Domestic Adventures" con otro texto de Octavio Paz, esta vez sobre el método vital y artístico de Marcel Duchamp. Subscribo plenamente el texto y me lo aplicaría si pudiera, aunque esto es "algo que no se busca".
Estoy convencido que que en el "saber de la indiferencia" se esconde la clave de un proceso creativo rico y lleno de sorpresas: la ironía, el humor, la distancia crean los vacíos necesarios para que el lenguaje, las ideas, el mundo real o el de los sueños se manifiesten; no como cosas, firmes y acabadas, sino como objetos de vida, arquetipos de bordes difusos y cambiantes. Obras de arte, diseños, productos, poemas, canciones, edificios que aparecen cuando se les observa, porque en la observación, en su habitabilidad, en su uso, se les dota de una energía única y variable que pertenece a tí, mirada creadora.

VenusEsp
Velázquez, La Venus del Espejo, 1648

 

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WARPLANE ::: REAL PAWN

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 26-Aug-2008 by albertob
... holograms, laser beams, anagrams, virtual queens, dreams, real pawns, "Thus where the images really are and where they seems to be are opposite".


real_pawn_small

The Complete Book of Holograms
By Joseph E. Kasper, Steven A. Feller

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Perspective

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 25-Aug-2008 by albertob

God's perspective is isometric, both in terms of time and space (simultaneous, multiple and transparent).

 

escalera

"Stairs (after the Third Man)", 2003. Gloosy print 150 x 100 cm.

 

 

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The Hermetic list

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 24-Aug-2008 by albertob

Marcel Duchamp

Eric Satie

Carl Jung

Bill Hicks

Philip K Dick

David Sylvian

Italo Calvino (?)

José Luis Borges

Octavio Paz

John Lennon (?)

Edward Munch

Baudrillard

David Lynch

William Blake

J. G. Ballard

David Cronenberg

Max Ernst

Terry Gilliam 

Michael Palin (?)

Stanley Kubrick

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Renée

 10 Comments- Add comment Written on 22-Aug-2008 by albertob
coffee4
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Coffe & Cigarettes

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 21-Aug-2008 by albertob
 

 

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my wandering days are over....

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 12-Aug-2008 by albertob
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off on holidays

 11 Comments- Add comment Written on 06-Aug-2008 by albertob

Dear only reader of this blog,

I am off for the longer holiday break I had in many many years: 12 days!!! in a row!!!
It doesn't mean that I won't be posting here, no worries, you won't miss me. It just that I am overexcited about the prospects.

I will be here:

doing this:

and eating this:

and drinking this:

and missing you all :))

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Britain seen from above - BBC

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 05-Aug-2008 by albertob

Program to be released next Sunday. Amazing visualisations of different human activities over the country.

Specially interesting the images of the mobile phone usage.

See the video:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/technology/7539529.stm

 

via: Information Aestetics

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Comedy Aesthetis - with love to Bill Hicks

 4 Comments- Add comment Written on 28-Jul-2008 by albertob

I recently discovered Bill Hicks, an american stand-up comedy genius who sadly died very young, as some kind of martyr in the name of art and common sense.

I am reading  "Love all the People", a compilation of his routines and other documents (thanks Marcus). Among them there's this amazing letter he wrote as a personal response to one complaint of one Christian viewer, after a bitter satirical speech about religion.

The viewer defines comedy as some of escape to the "daily grind of reality to jusy kick back and don't think for a while".
This is part of Bill's answer:

" Dear Mr. Christian,

... If comedy is a escape from anything, it is a escape from the illusions. The comic by using the Voice of Reason, reminds us of our True Reality, and in that moment of recognition, we laugh, and the 'reality of the daily grind in shown for what it is - unreal ... a joke. True comedy turns circles into spirals. What before seemed a tiresome, frightening or frustrating wall, the comic deftly and fearlessly steps through, proving the absurdity of it all. The audience is relieved to know they're not alone thinking. 'This bullshit we hear and see all day makes no sense. Surely I'm not the only one who thinks so. And surely there must be an answer... ' Good comedy helps people know they're not alone. Great comedy provides an answer.

It is a most rarified air in the air that the great comics must breathe, who've trascended their own preconcieved notions as well as the audiences at the same time. Here the comic is one with the audience. He is a vesel, empty of himself, yet full of wonder and joy and creation - for these are the fruits of the Voice of Reason bears. The Voice of Reason is in us all, and it is the same voice that is in us all. And when it is voiced, it is heard by all and everyone can recognize it, because it makes sense, and everyone benefits from it ... equally. There's no downside. There's no other shoe.

It is, and has been, and will forever be, this world of ours, a fucking joke. The real world lies beyond its veil, and the Artist, all Artist, have lifted that veil for themselves, and therefore for all, because we really are All One".

 

It's one of the best descriptions of Art I've ever read, seating aside Duchamp's "Creative Act". Both of which are very very similar in thesis and conclussion: the artist, the comedian as a shaman.

"The comic as a shaman? Now there's a fucking unifying theme"

Bill Hicks, June 1993.

 

"I have a lot of respect for humour, it’s a kind of safety-net enabling us to pass through all mirrors.”
Marcel Duchamp.

 

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Broken flows

 3 Comments- Add comment Written on 28-Jul-2008 by albertob

My friend Carmen told me something this weekend about the endemic broken flow in human communication.
We live in a world full of messages competing to get to the receptor, maybe as an evolutive reaction against this excess we have also learnt how to filter those messages. We had learn how not to see, how not to listen.
We are involved in a accelerating and never ending race between the media and the recipients, they talk louder as we become deafer.
And that is ultimately reflected in the way we communicate with each other.
Maybe it’s just some kind of misconception of what communication is what causes the problem.
Our classic view of the flow is unidirectional:
Sender [medium] message [medium] Recipient

But, taking the idea from the art, the technology and the common sense, we should consider the disposition of the recipient as an active element, which is key for the success of the transmission of a message. Listening or viewing play an active part in the communication flow and feeds back to the very core of the message.
Sender [medium] message [medium]  Recipient

Basically, my point is… don’t scream, don’t abuse the opportunities of sending your messages around, don’t overdue your shocking tactics, just create the right context for people to listen to you by listening to them, sit them down and offer them a nice drink.


Cristian, you are the expert, what do you think?

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Sun Kil Moon

 10 Comments- Add comment Written on 26-Jul-2008 by albertob

Let me share some enthusiasm about what I am listening to right now.

Sun Kill Moon, the last band of Mark Kozelek (Red House Painters), a w e s o m e stuff!
I've got already 2 tickets for his gig in London some time in September, one is for me, the other for one of you, dear 2 or 3 readers of this blog.
To win the ticket you have to make me laught or something.

As I can't find an MP3 of his latest work, I let you enjoy this one, it's called Gentle Moon:

 




the prize itself:
sunkilmoon
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Quantum Aesthetics 2

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 25-Jul-2008 by albertob

Dear 3 or 4 readers,
Some more thoughts about Quantum Aesthetics.

A few years ago, with the help of my old friend Jeremy Bosher,  I created a little tool to produce images. Some of those images were presented in an exhibition in the shape of large glossy printouts.

The tool mixes frames from films into a single image:
i.e. I rip  a few seconds of a video scene and separate all the frames in my computer. Each frame corresponds to a different time of the scene.
The tool takes random lines or dots from those images and places them together into a single image.
The only constrain I put was that the lines or dots have to stay in the exact physical place than the original.
It’s a quite simple idea but it has interesting consequences.

It came back to my mind after thinking on the topic of quantum physics and the existence of particles in different possible simultaneous stages (a particle can be in A and B at the same time).
The images bellow show multiple fragments of time presented in a simultaneous way, each line belongs to a different stage of the timeline:
Untitled
kiss

 more in the next post.

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Building The Matrix

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 24-Jul-2008 by albertob

We are getting closer to confirm my suspictions.

Check this out:

 
 
Are we living in Google Earth v19.84?
 
We are still in the prehistory of computing technologies. How Google Earth will look like in 50 or 100 years?
Mix the previous concept shown in the video with immersive interfaces, almost infinite rendering power, "Second Life" type of social interaction, a pretty big ecological disaster and the help of design drugs.

The only missing piece is the purpose.
 
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Quantum Aesthetics

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 24-Jul-2008 by albertob

http://www.webjam.com/paulsari/$my_blog/2008/07/01/art_and_a_hippopotamus_from_the_hood?source=ActivityLog#Comments

During an unexpected little debate on Paul's blog, Marcus brought a very nice idea: using Quantum Physics as an analogy for the aestetic experience. I found the idea very related to some of my old art projects.
This is a fascinating but complex concept that I would love to start exploring (if I am capable to).

I leave the conversation that started it as a reminder:

 

  • paulsari says:

    p.s. I strongly presume there is no real answer to my questions, and as such, they are not really questions, but more expressions of appreciation


  • chickerino [http://www.chickerino.com] says:

    It depends on one's state of mind at point of observation. Think of it as a quasi quantum physics comparison - i.e. it is art at the same time as not being art. Whether said art is actually good is simply in the eye of the beholder.

    How about THAT for insight!

  • chickerino says:

    p.s. I like the hippo too

  • paulsari says:

    Thanks for that insight, Marcus. Everything I would like to say about that can be summarised in that I find it a very enlightening comment.

    http://dictionary.cambridge.org/define.asp?ke ... =CALD


  • albertob says:

    good one marcus!
    Art is ruled by the "uncertainty principle": a given object is and isn’t an art work until the very moment it’s observed.

    Building on the analogy: a work of art is a box with the Schrödinger cat inside. The uncertainty of the observer before opening the box is the reason why artworks can create open meanings.

    Take a normal object, put it in a box (move it into the art context, build a frame around, tell people that its art) and tell the observer that it has a hidden meaning.

    Duchamp did something similar with this work “With Hidden Noise”, where he hid a mysterious object inside:




  • albertob says:

    really good Marcus...
    check this out:
    "Human counciousness is non-algorithmic".
    "Quantum mechanics play an esential role in understanding it".
    Roger Penrose: The Emperor's New Mind

    If Art is an expression of human couciousness, then Quantum mechanics can help us to understand how it works.


  • paulsari says:

    A none too daft contribution from you either, Alberto!

    I've seen Penrose in interviews / roundtables a few times. He
    has a lot to offer.

    This discussion reminds simultaneously of something else Marcus repeats that "there are different forms of intelligence". The idea that the creation of and people's enjoyment of art is non-algorithmic, i.e. not realised by a series of selections from options x,y,z is appealing.

 

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Trapped in a Wallpaper © magazine dystopia.

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 17-Jul-2008 by albertob

How could a life decorated with Scandinavian design furniture, open office spaces, beautiful, smiley and stylish people become some kind of trap for the soul?

I must confess that while watching The Bothersome Man (Den Brysomme Mannen) I was tempted by the feeling of alienation that oppressed the main character: good job, quiet life, beautiful girlfriends, no major problems, fantastic suits and an amazing architect design house. The idea of a sentimental and warm happiness that in the film is banned (represented by the music and the view of a country side kitchen), seems, from my point of view, slightly naïf and sometimes "sinister".

The movie presents a dualist view of the world, in one side "the system": cold, soulless, modern and alienating, in the other side "the freedom": warm, old, sunny, passionate, creative and rich. My experience tells me that things are not that simple, the escapist dream of the main character (also seen in other dystopian fantasies: Brazil, Brave New World, Blade Runner) doesn't seem to deal with the main issue behind the scenes, the very essence of human nature, where we are all prisoners and wardens at the same time.

 

Marcus posted this video today in his webjam which I find very related (theme and aesthetics) to the topic above:
http://www.chickerino.com/$tumblelog/2008/07/17/i_forgot_how_much_

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Eurocopa ++

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 30-Jun-2008 by albertob

El futbol es un deporte que inventaron los ingleses, juegan once contra once, y siempre gana Alemania España.

Reescribiendo a Gary Lineker (via Microsiervos)

 

"Football is a simple game; 22 men chase a ball for 90 minutes and at the end, the Germans Spanish win"
Gary Lineker.

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El poder de los arquetipos.

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 29-Jun-2008 by albertob

Hace algunos años escribí un pequeño texto sobre las maravillosas coincidencias que encontré entre una pequeña pintura flamenca del siglo XV (El Matrimonio Arnolfini, Van Eyck 1434, National Gallery, Londres) y una de las obras de arte más importantes del siglo XX, El Gran Vidrio de Marcel Duchamp.

jolie arnolfini


Si comparamos la foto tomada en el último festival de Cannes con el cuadro flamenco, vemos que la composición no dista una de la otra: la pareja mira al espectador, ella a la derecha luciendo su embarazo con un traje verde que recuerda el color de las “mantis”, en clara coincidencia con el original flamenco. El lado masculino destaca, por contraste, por su sobriedad, como un molde vacio, solamente animado por la energía del deseo.
Al fondo, como en el Vidrio y en la pintura, están los testigos, las cámaras fotográficas, cuyas lentes cóncavas y circulares recuerdan literalmente al espejo al fondo de la habitación y a la manera en que Duchamp describió a los testigos en su obra.
Dejo las imágenes y la idea como una nota, para que no se me olvide, para que algún día el lenguaje se manifieste en alguna de mis obras con su amada, su sujeto y sus testigos.

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ESPAÑÑÑÑÑA!

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 26-Jun-2008 by albertob

my post of support for tonite's Spain -Russia (linked to the debate in Oeste)

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La Fuerza.

 4 Comments- Add comment Written on 25-Jun-2008 by albertob

"Instructor Mundial" is the title of this short and beautiful piece of "La Fuerza", the band of the boyfriend of my friend and fellow webjammer Marta (la pequeña habitante).

 

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Public Transport

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 19-Jun-2008 by albertob

How to be sure that the event you have been invited to has the category that you deserve?

Solution: Check if "Helicopter" is included in the list of "public transport".

 

The following screenshot was taken from the Guards Polo Club website:

helicopters

 

I will be there this Sunday thanks to my friend Fernando. I will try to convince the Royal Family to join Webjam.

 

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Reminder

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 11-Jun-2008 by albertob

Two books to purchase:

The Wrong House. The Architecture of Alfred Hitchcock.

Review here:
http://www.we-make-money-not-art.com/archives/2008/06/book-review-the-wrong-house-th.php

 

Duchamp in Context: Science and Technology in the "Large Glass" and Related Work

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Duchamp-Context-Science-Technology-Related/dp/0691055513/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1213207337&sr=8-2

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Message to Chan Marshall aka "Cat Power"

 3 Comments- Add comment Written on 10-Jun-2008 by albertob

Dear Chan,

You don't know me yet but I went to see you last Sunday.
Excellent concert, really, I specially enjoyed "Moon", I had to rush because my friend was scared of missing the last train, so I couldn't stay for the last song.

Just to tell you that I am here for everything you need, that I am a nice guy and I play guitar too. Contact me anytime, just add me as a Friend here at Webjam. I'll be honoured to accept.

Alberto

PS: you played this very nicely:

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To relieve pain A narcotic analgesic and feminist

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 05-Jun-2008 by albertob

I haven´t recieve spam like this in a long time. I don't know what they are selling but I find it fascinating.
In order to cheat the anti-spam programs they use some kind of automatic sentence generator software that uses aparently harmless words and mixes them in some random order.

This emails looks like the "exquisite cadavers" that the surreal artists used to "release" the unconsiousness and produce unexpected and free connections among words.

Sometimes they are beautiful.

Here goes the last one (in black the words I like):

 

To relieve pain A narcotic analgesic and feminist

do economically? on He. was bother so plaque. Of hostilities The ping. Go on whack. his or conduce. by or powder full rubber. diversity my insignia. so identity a none. An easy? Not an cryptography adversary. Is dine Are skeleton. For harness. on or superannuation. Which he samaritan guesthouse balls. estuary be year. he dispenser, city he emergent.



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Oeste

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 05-Jun-2008 by albertob

My good friend Alberto Prieto "maxnemo" has published a selecction of some of his best photos on a book.
Photos about "Beaches, surfers, waves and roads" taken during the last 10 years, it's title is "Oeste" (West).

I wrote the introduction, it says something like this:

 

oeste book
"West

 

There's a place where some evenings the horizon seems to turn around. It’s an unlimited place, not because its size, but because its boundaries are erased by the fog and the tides. It opens its mouths of sand to the winds from the West, to the swells from the West.

This is a West that is even more far away. It's gazed from the water with your eyes squinting of sun and salt, and it approaches, severe, dark grey, it covers you with shadows and you paddle it."

 

Click on the ad on the top right corner of the page to get your own copy.

More on oestesurf.com 

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Cat Power

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 02-Jun-2008 by albertob

Ive got a ticket to see Cat Power on Sunday.

I can’t decide if my main motivation to go to the gig is her music or her looks.

 Cat Power - Nude as the News
 
...probably both 
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Gawker Artist: Art 2.0

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 08-May-2008 by albertob

If you take a look at the rigt column of this webjam you´ll see a new module displaying some images.

I just became an "exhibitor" of Gawker Artist. It´s a simple but very appealing idea about "art distribution", your site can become a platform to showcase the work of a good number of contemporary artists. It's a good way of discovering new stuff and improving the visual and intellectual flavour of your site :)

http://gawker.com/artists/

 

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PostSecret

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 27-Apr-2008 by albertob

Just found out about this popular website PostSecret.

It's the project of Frank Warren, an artist who recieves thousands of personal secrets from anonymous people in the shape of a 6x4 postcard

There are some really beautiful ones, I took a few from today's post. They are a great example of those special times when art and life merge together.

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High on Low

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 21-Apr-2008 by albertob

I went to see Low last Saturday evening at the Union Chapel. I was seating at one side of the stage, very close to the band, but due to my position I got the sound bounced back and echoed by the architecture of the Chapel. The sound of the bass was so dense you could touched it, Low sounded deeper and more atmospheric than ever.
As I was expecting, they started the gig with Murdered, and it sounded almost as sublime as in this studio session:



The day before I was playing bass for the first time in many years, and I still keep the feeling.
I think I need to get one of those.

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It's all about style (Alberto's ego boost)

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 01-Apr-2008 by albertob

Me as a surfer (Foxos, Galicia, a few years ago):

http://www.oestesurf.com/gente_del_oeste/$gente_del_oeste_4vj_0idse/2008/04/01/alberto_barreiro 

 

Me as a geek (Shoreditch, London, last week):

http://about.webjam.com/webjam/blog/$webjam_blog/2008/03/31/webjam_visits_liverpool_and_minibar

  

 

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Wish list, for my birthday

 5 Comments- Add comment Written on 31-Mar-2008 by albertob

I am trying to find the following print, I saw it in a show here in London and I believed there were some copies made and available for purchase.

Typo/Topography of Marcel Duchamp's Large Glass, 2001–02 by Richard Hamilton.

Richard Hamilton (English, b. 1922)

Dimensions: 105 1/2 x 67 inches (total of two maps, bride and bachelor)

One of the most innovative artists of our time, Richard Hamilton has long been fascinated by the work and ideas of Marcel Duchamp. For the sixth installment of the Museum Studies program, Hamilton has created a computer-generated diagram of Marcel Duchamp's The Bride Stripped Bare by her Bachelors, Even (The Large Glass), of 1915–23—one of the most important works in the Museum’s collection, and one that has had a profound effect on contemporary artists, including Hamilton. To coincide with this installation in the Duchamp gallery, Hamilton has also created a double map of The Large Glass, which also includes the English translations of Duchamp’s intricate manuscript notes and studies for the work. In these two maps—The Bride and The Bachelors—each visual element is united with the written ideas and schematic designs that preceded it. Printed in a limited edition, these double maps are available only through the Philadelphia Museum of Art Store.

hamilton

But... It's gone!. No more copies available.

If you ever walk into a gallery and see it for sale, please let me know.

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Así somos.

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 10-Mar-2008 by albertob

No sé si es bueno o malo, pero la lista de las noticias más leidas por los lectores de elmundo.es esta mañana parece decir bastante de nuestras prioridades como ciudadanos.

Quizás ahí está el secreto del triunfo de Zapatero.

elmundo 100308

Bailará ZP el Chiki-Chiki en Europa?

 

The actual thing:
 

 

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A history of evil

 2 Comments- Add comment Written on 22-Feb-2008 by albertob

Beautiful infographic animation for an important story.

via information aestetics 

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Critical Moments

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 12-Feb-2008 by albertob

At this very moment I was lost.

I found myself shortly after in a very good shape.

Alberto mail Grau Roig 2008

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Back from here

 4 Comments- Add comment Written on 11-Feb-2008 by albertob
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La Tormenta Perfecta III

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 03-Jan-2008 by albertob

Mi amigo Alberto P. me manda una nueva serie de fotos, cada vez mejores. De olas fuera de sitio, en Silgar o Caneliñas.

Le insisto en que estas fotos me parecen extrañas, de un mar solidificado, él me dice que la superficie del agua estaba aceitosa.  Se está acercando un nuevo temporal de mar de fondo directamente del Oeste para el fin de semana, a ver que historias les deja. Por ahora aquí en Londres aún no ha nevado.

Quién conozca la zona no se creerá que esto es la tranquila cala urbana de Caneliñas, tampoco el corchero ahí dentro se lo acaba de creer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 y esto es Silgar, la ola pasa junto a la "madama".

         

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I'm back!

 24 Comments- Add comment Written on 02-Jan-2008 by albertob

Ya estoy de vuelta en el viejo Londres, en la oficina, cayéndome dormido sobre el teclado.

Las calles están muy tranquilas, parece que la gente se resiste a reincorporarse su vida normal en este nuevo año.

Mañana nevará en la ciudad, la web de la BBC indica ahora -1 C. Como acto simbólico esta mañana abandoné mi vieja y abrigosa gorra en casa de mis padres, creo que a partir de ahora mis actos simbólicos no deberían afectar a los hechos prácticos.

Wishful Thinking: Hay que aprender a dejar cosas atrás para avanzar ligero.

Marcus ha puesto el tema de 007 de música fondo.

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Ultimo post de este extr-año

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 31-Dec-2007 by albertob

 

El 2007 ha sido mi "Black Swan", el 2008 un lienzo en blanco.

 

 

2007- Thom Yorke, Black Swan

 


 

 

2008- Kasimir Malevich, White on White

 

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Felices Fiestas

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 20-Dec-2007 by albertob

Si pasas por aquí en estas fechas navideñas, no dejes de visitar la felicitación que he preparado para vosotros,

http://www.webjam.com/albertob/merrymerryxmas/

Felices Fiestas

 

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My new/old surfboard

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 14-Dec-2007 by albertob

Hace solo un año, "I haven´t gone very long but it feels like a lifetime" Bright Eyes.

 

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La tormenta perfecta II . 09/12/07

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 10-Dec-2007 by albertob

Nuevas fotos de Alberto P. es su visita a la costa norte durante el temporal del 09/12.

Sublime.

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Fontenla 04/12/07

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 05-Dec-2007 by albertob

Alberto me sigue manadando fotos de la ría durante la serie de marejadas de Diciembre.

Esta misma mañana se acercó a la zona de La Lanzada,  donde fotografió la ola de Fontenla. Parece ser que se está preparando una buena sesión para esta misma tarde.

 

 

         

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Isla Pancha.

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 04-Dec-2007 by albertob

Olas de 8 metros en la costa de la Mariña lucense. Galicia camino de convertirse en el paraiso europeo de surf de ola grande.

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El Pico de la Luz

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 03-Dec-2007 by albertob

El Pico de la Luz (bautizado así por Juanjo, pero también conocido por otros nombres), es una ola que rompe sobre unos fondos de roca a unos 150 metros de Punta Faxilda, enfrente la playa de Major. Según estas fofos que me ha enviado Alberto ha estado rompiendo este fin de semana.

Aquí me quedan...

         

 


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Cena recalentada

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 29-Nov-2007 by albertob
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La tormenta perfecta: 29/11/07

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 29-Nov-2007 by albertob

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Home made videos in YouTube

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 22-Nov-2007 by albertob

An interesting trend. People recording videos for the music of their favourite artists, some of them with real quality.

Sufjan Stevens.  Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland. by jymdavis

 

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The Power of Nightmares

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 22-Oct-2007 by albertob

Documental en tres partes (de 1 hora) de Adam Curtis para la BBC sobre el poder de la mentira.

Parte 1. Baby It's Cold Outside.

 

 

Parte 2. The Phantom Victory.

 


 

Parte 3. The Shadows In The Cave.

 

 



 

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Jhon Maeda at TED Talks. Simplicity

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 28-Sep-2007 by albertob

Simplicity is about living life with more enjoyment and less pain.

 

 

 

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Silver Surfer by Moebius

 4 Comments- Add comment Written on 24-Sep-2007 by albertob

Ayer me perdí el programa sobre Jean Giraud (Moebius) in BBC4.
Años atrás compré una copia del original Silver Surfer dibujado por Moebius, no sé donde lo he dejado, pero ahora debe valer una fortuna. 

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Ultra Mobile PC

 1 Comment- Add comment Written on 19-Sep-2007 by albertob

Visión del PC Móvil y expandido de Intel.

"The future is here. It's just not widely distributed yet" William Gibson

 

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La nueva Chica Almodovar

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 12-Sep-2007 by albertob

En una entrevista Almodovar confiesa su admiración por Marge Simpson a quién querría de musa en una de sus películas. 

Siempre me ha parecido el personaje más interesante de Los Simpsons y un verdadero sex symbol.

 

 

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La canción más triste de la historia

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 10-Sep-2007 by albertob

"I Started a Joke" de los Bee Gees, los mismos de Saturday Night Fever! en este caso versioneados por mi grupo favorito: Low.

 (Puedes escuchar la canción el "Playlist" en la columna de la derecha)


I started a joke, which started the whole world crying,
But I didnt see that the joke was on me, oh no.

I started to cry, which started the whole world laughing,
Oh, if Id only seen that the joke was on me.

I looked at the skies, running my hands over my eyes,
And I fell out of bed, hurting my head from things that Id said.

Til I finally died, which started the whole world living,
Oh, if Id only seen that the joke was on me.

I looked at the skies, running my hands over my eyes,
And I fell out of bed, hurting my head from things that Id said.

til I finally died, which started the whole world living,
Oh, if Id only seen that the joke was one me.
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Agotado que me tiene

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 05-Sep-2007 by albertob

Septiembre es un mes muy bonito pero agotado que me tiene.

 

 

 

 

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Tokio Blues

 0 Comments- Add comment Written on 31-Aug-2007 by albertob

Here we go again,

Estoy a punto de acabar "Tokio Blues".

No suelo leer muchas novelas, el poco tiempo que reservo a la lectura se lo dedico a ensayos de temas diversos con el único motivo de que el mundo no me adelante demasiado. Pero ésta novela me la recomendó mi hermano, no puedo negarme, él lee mucho más que yo e insistió con una cara muy seria.
Compré el libro al día siguiente, no para mí, sino para Coca. Acabé leyéndolo yo.

"Tokio Blues" me está gustando, no se lo recomendaría a nadie en un estado de fragilidad emocional, pero esta semana los viajes de ida y vuelta entre casa y la oficina se me han hecho mucho más cortos a pesar del tráfico. Antes de ayer, en pleno ensimismamiento dejé olvidado el teléfono en el Número 1. Por suerte intuí la perdida a los pocos minutos y llamé a mi número desde el móvil de un compañero; la mismísima conductora del autobús respondió enseguida y decidió esperarme, con autobús y todo, los 20 minutos que tardé en llegar a la parada. Realmente increible, estaba tan contento que comencé a mandarle besos y a decirle que le debía una.

Por esto mismo estoy escribiendo ahora, porque el buen arte consigue despertar las ganas de compartir cosas.

La edición española de "Tokio Blues" además tiene una bonita portada, que aquí mismo muestro:

        En el iTunes, he puesto "Beautiful Freak" de The Eels. La primera canción dice algo así como "Novocaine for the soul, you better give me something to fill the hole..." Podría ser la banda sonora de "Tokio Blues", excepto que la novela ya viene con música incluida, "Norwegian Wood" de los Beatles, un montón de jazz y Bach a la guitarra.

He contado tres suicidios en lo que va de libro, ninguno de ellos con un motivo aparente, son la consecuencia natural del Tokio Blues. Un buen amigo mío desapareció igual, sin motivo y del mismo modo que Kizuki, uno de los personajes del libro. En su caso sonaba "No Surprises" de Radiohead.

[Actualización: Los suicidios finales son 4!, pero Reiko vuelve al mundo real, lo cual compensa un poco]

El estilo de la novela es sencillo y ligero, como una ilustración a lapiz con detalles a veces meticulosos y un poco de color aquí y allá. Escrita por un hombre y con un potragonista también masculino la narración es increiblemente sensual y femenina. Necesito saber la opinión de una mujer sobre el libro, mi hermana Paloma también lo está leyendo, la llamaré esta noche, Coca lo dejó por la mitad.

Dicen que recuerda al estilo del "Guardián entre el centeno", y de hecho en medio de la historia alguién compara al personaje de esa novela con Watanabe, el protagonista de "Tokio Blues", un joven alienado pero inteligente con una mirada un tanto cínica del mundo.
Personalmente no creo que Watanabe sea un cínico, de hecho él ama a Nakoto y cuida del padre enfermo de Midori con sinceridad y generosidad, simplemente está un poco perdido o un poco sólo.

Mi personaje favorito es Reiko, la atractiva profesora de piano retirada del mundo y que sabe tocar Julia de los Beatles a la guitarra. Sabiéndose a salvo decide quedarse a vivir en una casa de reposo toda su vida.
La opción de Reiko parece tentadora, reducir el "scope" de la vida, limitarla a una serie de acciones que se repiten día a día (como en el "Día de la Marmota") hasta logran la perfección en los detalles, con disciplina, como un buén estudiante de piano.
Sin embargo aquí estamos, dibujando la vida con groseros brochazos conociéndolo todo sin saber de nada.

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