Your eyes are just like bees, and I feel like a flower. Their brown power makes a breeze go over my skin. When your lashes ride down and rise like brown bees’ legs, your pronged gaze makes my eyes gauze. I wish we were in some shade and no swarm of other eyes to know that I’m a flower breathing bare, laid open to your bees’ warm stare. I’d let you wade in me and seize with your eager brown bees’ power a sweet glistening at my core.
Work about time is primarily marked by selection of the day as its unit. It is certainly not peculiar to Vertov. Alberto Cavalcanti with Nothing but the Hours, and Walter Ruttmann with Berlin: Symphony of a Metropolis, also employed it. But nor does this structure characterize the documentary form in contrast to fiction. James Joyce in Ulysses and Virginia Woolf in Mrs Dalloway made types of modern fiction with it. This is because the day is not so much a stretch of time as a paradigm of temporality. The story of a day illustrates the revolution that Woolf proclaimed in her essay ‘Modern Fiction’. In it, she denounced the tyranny of causal emplotment, and asserted, against the Aristotelian tradition, that the truth of experience resided in the shower of atoms, the succession of sensible micro-events that happen one after another, but above all alongside one another, in the absence of any hierarchy. The time of the day in the big city is a time of coexistence … (JC)
“But let tonight be the final time I utter his name, as we turn the page on a politics that abandons the many and answers only to the few. New York, tonight you have delivered. A mandate for change. ??A mandate for a new kind of politics. A mandate for a city we can afford. And a mandate for a government that delivers exactly that.
[…]
Hope over big money and small ideas. Hope over despair. We won because New Yorkers allowed themselves to hope that the impossible could be made possible. And we won because we insisted that no longer would politics be something that is done to us. Now, it is something that we do.
Standing before you, I think of the words of Jawaharlal Nehru: “A moment comes, but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new, when an age ends, and when the soul of a nation, long suppressed, finds utterance.”
Tonight we have stepped out from the old into the new. So let us speak now, with clarity and conviction that cannot be misunderstood, about what this new age will deliver, and for whom.
This will be an age where New Yorkers expect from their leaders a bold vision of what we will achieve … “
“In our increasingly repressive present, where recognition collapses into surveillance and the individual is powerless to advance toward the political horizon she yearns for, desire has shifted its sights, revising not only its object but its subject. So we continue to fall in love with comrades here and elsewhere, with ships, drawings issued from the hands that try to play it through, with signs of life. And love, specific and depersonalized, is, as Assata Shakur reminds us, the very contraband in the hell we are living in. They don’t want us to have it, and for good reason.”
? Bakehouse turns 40 — and our Art Deco building turns 100!
We’re throwing a party to celebrate this double milestone with art, music, food, and dancing ?
? Artists’ Proof | 40/100 features:
• Exhibition Preview – “Bakehouse at Forty: Past, Present, Future”