tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post1642536590440915480..comments2024-01-28T03:56:39.351-08:00Comments on TOM CLARK: Walker Evans: Patterns of Habitation / Edward Dorn: The Top ListUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-46825685049039935822018-08-26T19:41:45.502-07:002018-08-26T19:41:45.502-07:00Rest in Peace Sir, your work here was greatly appr...Rest in Peace Sir, your work here was greatly appreciated.Chris Fischerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18136277780981799500noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-84518718613588949512012-08-15T15:08:39.300-07:002012-08-15T15:08:39.300-07:00The decade before my birth
Walker Evans and his co...The decade before my birth<br />Walker Evans and his company<br />photographed the earth<br />in love with man-made beauty spots<br /><br />as new as each day's sun.<br />Their black and white<br />I saw as awesome color<br />when I finally came to see it.<br /><br /><br /><br />larry whitehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05659637420532771765noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-21913247017438904552012-08-15T05:08:49.130-07:002012-08-15T05:08:49.130-07:00"... people move about in darkness on a Tilt-..."... people move about in darkness on a Tilt-A-Whirl planet, compelled by bosses and collective memory and the blind force of money, fleeing themselves and their four-square Paradise and the ‘cause for terror.’"<br /><br />"The heart is not owned by youself but by a criminal, a boss." <br /><br />"...long past<br />The point of no return<br />On our investment..."<br /><br />[Inhouse comment on the above:]<br /><br />"That about sums it up."TChttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05915822857461178942noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-56815532948062951922012-08-15T01:02:21.534-07:002012-08-15T01:02:21.534-07:00BUILDING FOR THE FUTURE
I don’t know which is
Mo...BUILDING FOR THE FUTURE<br /><br /><br />I don’t know which is<br />More telling—Walker’s<br />Photos or Ed’s poem,<br /><br />But I see we’re long past<br />The point of no return<br />On our investment<br /><br />And that says a lot.<br /><br />vazambam (Vassilis Zambaras)https://www.blogger.com/profile/14515165428574974933noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-86066583793823460812012-08-14T16:39:44.995-07:002012-08-14T16:39:44.995-07:00What is worn out
discarded
and picked up
by anothe...What is worn out<br />discarded<br />and picked up<br />by another<br /><br />accidental or<br />is it? This <br />fine obsidian<br />edge was held<br />by someone else<br />some time ago<br />in a dream<br />and now <br />on the ground<br />its beauty connects<br />the notice<br />momentary<br />but that is useful<br />save itSusan Kay Andersonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16277139119869470939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-38865352106548000602012-08-14T15:08:24.030-07:002012-08-14T15:08:24.030-07:00First Layer, Duff
I haven’t found out yet.
Insid...First Layer, Duff<br /><br />I haven’t found out yet. <br />Inside there are trees, mountains. A desert or two. <br />Two. Separate things. There are two separate things in the distance, in the middle distance and at the far distance. These thoughts are the amazing places that become the distance. It is here, tiny, yet not available. <br />The chapter on Mexico is not real yet. I suppose it is an outer idea, not inside yet, not digested. I am eager to get it out. I have never been so impatient. I appear to be a secretary or a librarian, some sort of paper shuffler. What is true is that I belong outdoors. In the wind and sun. Coming in sometimes, but mostly outside—at least all day. It is Norwegian, yes, but also German. Also tundra, sun on snow, glacial lakes. A part that is the low tide. Another is the sage, the settled pebbles, their animals. <br />It is almost unknown. I’ve only skimmed the surface. That shy.Susan Kay Andersonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16277139119869470939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-4030663125904784432012-08-14T15:04:21.892-07:002012-08-14T15:04:21.892-07:00GPS Stuff
300 datums. Earth is pear shaped. WG...GPS Stuff<br /><br />300 datums. Earth is pear shaped. WGS 84 is not the same datum but it is in the process. WGS 84 version in 2010 is the World Geodetic System. Projection is when you take a sphere and make it flat. What we did was <br />we peeled the world apart and made zones, every six degrees. We are located in NAD83, UTM Zone 5 (and 4).<br />Alaska has its own state projection. State Plane Projection.<br />The whole state is one projection. County of Hawaii—<br />we’re in the west part (a minus sign). Fiji is east (a plus sign).<br />Easting means how far east you are. Easting plus northing yields an arrow pointing to the right.Susan Kay Andersonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16277139119869470939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-75790766015435376612012-08-14T15:02:23.716-07:002012-08-14T15:02:23.716-07:00When I Became An Animal
I looked for her here b...When I Became An Animal<br /><br /><br /><br />I looked for her here but could<br />not quite get the smell of her,<br />the lay of the land even, a little<br />bit frozen.<br /><br />River, mint, the heat <br />from blackberry leaves. A spirit led me<br />out to the rocks. It was like<br />another sort of a game. One that<br />a hungry critter might play.<br /><br />Smelling for the past. Hearing, but<br />no touching. I was here. I did <br />not play, really. It was really<br />fantastic. Who could’ve warned me<br />about sadness? It was that close.<br /><br /> I remembered that. It did not<br />require much. Crawling here, a shadow there. <br />Spirit, flickering as we looked.Susan Kay Andersonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16277139119869470939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-17815936939287543342012-08-14T13:44:50.795-07:002012-08-14T13:44:50.795-07:00Tom,
WE's photos in relation to ED's last...Tom,<br /><br />WE's photos in relation to ED's last line -- chilling.<br /><br />8.14<br /><br />light coming into fog against invisible<br />ridge, first birds chirping on branches<br />in foreground, sound of wave in channel<br /><br /> notes seem more than making<br /> however, when set out<br /><br /> which, thought in reference<br /> to it, by way of that<br /><br />grey white of fog reflected in channel,<br />cormorant flapping across toward point<br />STEPHEN RATCLIFFEhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12339481653546188412noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-37545975610177469002012-08-14T12:13:54.066-07:002012-08-14T12:13:54.066-07:00On the shelf
with the other
spices
like salt like...On the shelf<br />with the other <br />spices<br />like salt like pepper<br />a small <br />red and white <br />tin<br />Cream of Tartar.Susan Kay Andersonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16277139119869470939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-19604973638066262562012-08-14T10:46:50.615-07:002012-08-14T10:46:50.615-07:00"What crime is not counter-crime"
Anythi..."What crime is not counter-crime"<br />Anything to avoid the factory for a few moments-days, weeks, years--<br />that is where I died.<br /><br />"What men are not bossed?"<br />Are we all that caged? Do we boss ourselves, then?<br /><br />"When will they again come to strange shores to gratify their national memories?"<br /><br />How does this happen to be THE poem about America? Maybe it is the list. Written by a poetry geographer mapping out America, this poem is a tattoo of a heart with all of America contained within. The heart is not owned by youself but by a criminal, a boss. You get to borrow it for awhile. Try to consume it. It is more than a brand or trademark. Elusive. Like this poem and this poet. All will be given up, seemingly, but it is not all. This poem is famous but it will never be famous. Something is resigned, limited, sighing. Heyday only in memory?Susan Kay Andersonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16277139119869470939noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4445844569294316288.post-44437068266369348552012-08-14T09:39:47.287-07:002012-08-14T09:39:47.287-07:00There’s a wonderfully strange correspondence here ...There’s a wonderfully strange correspondence here between image and word. Evans’ shot of New York house fronts on 61st Street is so different from his other carefully composed and upright images in this series. Things are aslant; the image seems offhand, a snapshot. Yet it isn’t a picture of something transitory or moving quickly; it fits a world unbalanced, tilting into the chaos of world war. In keeping with your comment yesterday (the essence of photography, per Evans, being the eye, where photography first takes form), it’s the photographer’s intuitive eye that is aslant that summer day in 1938 . . . Not unlike Dorn’s oblique poem, in which people move about in darkness on a Tilt-A-Whirl planet, compelled by bosses and collective memory and the blind force of money, fleeing themselves and their four-square Paradise and the ‘cause for terror.’Hazenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13417573435195561519noreply@blogger.com