a song about the baddest man on the whole wide world

It was pointed out to me recently that I may like violence. It was in the form of a question though: 'do you like violence?'

My response was the following. I do not like violence. I do appreciate it though an intrinsic feature of our evolutionary journey. How you channel it in modern society and what you do with it, it is a completely different question. Murder is violence; so are certain of Pollock's paintings or Nick Cave's songs. What it disturbs me, however, is the hypocrisy of a society full of abusive patterns - not to say built upon an abusive structure. A society that revolts when the word violence comes on the table but ignores the abuse it takes and it exercises on a daily basis.


 At the National Gallery in London you can visit until the 20th of May (2012) the Inside Art: Creative Responses to the Collection by Young Offenders.

During 2011 National Gallery Education delivered the third annual series of four week-long practical art projects onsite at HM Young Offenders Institution Feltham, a juvenile prison and Young Offenders Institution for young men aged 15-21.
This display features work made by the 37 young men who participated in these projects, which focused on practical techniques including drawing, printmaking, painting and portrait sculpture, and explored themes including portraiture, still-life, abstraction and representing the world.

This is Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds in a song about the baddest man in the whole, wide world, Stagger Lee. There are two versions of this song, both equally interesting; i would say beautiful but people will think that I like violence.

no stamp no country

I am a huge fan of Eddie Izzard. One of my favourite shows is the Dress to Kill and I love the part where he explains the cunning use of flags and the rule of 'no flag no country'. 

I have been trying for some time now to think of another (smaller?) physical object - besides banknotes and coins - that could possibly encapsulate what the national flag signifies. And it hit me today. It is the stamp, the postage stamp.

It is the smallest (?) physical object that equally to the flag carries along a big part of the history of nation state.

• first adhesive postage stamp was invented and issued in the UK (1840). (Why I am not surprised?). Since then stamps have been involved and associated with the history of nation state. No stamp, no country.
• the Postal Service Act was a piece of US legislation establishing the US Post Office Department. It was signed by President George Washington (1972).
• the Palestenian National Authority established its own post offices and issued its stamps following an agreement with Israel.
• postage stamps are almost always government-issued.
• the Universal Postal Union will not recognise stamps issued by authorities or administrations which do not have independence. In other words: no country, no stamp.
• a profoundly effective and quiet way to mainstream your propaganda

 

Cant really think of anyone who would die over or kill for a stamp though the same way he/she would over his/her flag. Oh well, still, the devil is in the details. 

 

Your hand in mine

'Your hand in mine' is a band from Thessaloniki, Greece. Manos and George are 28 years old or something. They go up in the attic and make music. Just like that; i hope it stays like that.

Manos plays the wurlitzer piano, accordion, melodica, ukelele, electric bass, violin, accoustic guitar and pershephone. George plays the mandolin, accoustic and electric guitar, drums, trumpet and synth. 

They became sort of speaking well-known and started establishing their own bonding when they wrote music for a silent film (Every Night Dreams) by Mikio Naruse, a japanese filmaker. The film was screened at the 2007 Thessaloniki International Film Festival and they performed live music during the screening. You can get an idea here, although the video is not of a good quality. 

It is very difficult to describe their music. They do have a thing for Japan though. You can tell from their work, the music they wrote for the japanese film. Also their website and myspace acount is full of japanese cherry trees' blossoms. I suppose one of the reasons I am so fond of them is the fact that we share the same love for japanese cherry trees. 

The most recent work is 'The Garden Novels'. You can order it here.   

This is the Sluggish Postman.

Stay and Play

kicks in

From time to time sadness kicks in. You have to let sadness stretch inside you. Otherwise it will turn into clots in your blood and you re gonna have a stroke. That means permanent damage, my dear.

Yann Tiersen, La Chute

nana (like banana)

Nana was hanging above our heads for some time. But we fail to notice. I noticed when we came back from smoking. There was something about the neatness of the handwriting and the capital letters. It stood out for its effort. Some of the sketches were also neat and precise, but this one spoke to me. At first it surprised me that they were for sale. But soon it felt the most natural thing on the world that this sketch belongs to me and I bought it for ten quid. Ruth said that the handwriting was very similar to mine. And I write in capital and neatly only when I really want something to be readable. It was the only sketch that you wrote and it was real, serious; not making fun or telling everyone to piss off. So be it. But what I really wanted was to take a look at the back side of the paper. And I thought to myself 'stop that, it is stupid. You dont buy a piece of art and turn it around'. But I am fucking stubborn and I did. And there was this text with an incomprehensible handwriting talking crazy. And this is also so real and serious but I dont understand your handwriting, goddamnit. 

After a while we returned to our smoking point. This guy came, at his mid sixties maybe. And he addressed me saying that I am something but I couldnt get what was that. Ruth realised at some point that he was saying that I am posh and my coat is posh. She also added that I am a foreigner but I really didnt understand what this had to do with my so-called posh coat. I told him that I bought it 'cause I am cold and it was the warmest thing I can get on the market. Which is true. Then he smiled at me and told me to look at the graffti at the wall behind me. To my great surprise I did turn around and he took my hand and kissed it. Ruth thinks we made him happy because we didnt ignore him and talked with him. And that his chavish words are mostly incomprehensible. I hope they are not lost in the place where all the ties and the single socks are. 

The thing is that incomprehensible or not you have to take your chances and turn around. 

   

Nana

'WE TRAVELLED MANY MILES TODAY. I DO NOT COUNT THE STEPS, ALTHOUGH SOME DO. WE SAW OLD MEN WITH STICKS WHO CANT STIR THEIR COFFEE AND TALKED ABOUT OLD STUFF AS IF IT WERE NEW, ALTHOUGHT WE DIDNT TALK MUCH. I HEARD THAT SOME DO. WE WROTE STUFF ON OUR HANDS IN BLACK INK, THAT WE THOUGHT WE NEEDED TO. WE HAD A DRINK AND TOLD SOME LIES TO MAKE US FEEL BETTER. MAN IT WAS ROCK'N'ROLL. I 'DO IT AGAIN IF THAT WERE THE CASE'

Nana, secret message side

The one that Ruth bought. She says it is a RED squirrel.

dont trust the thinking look