Dig

  • 1-54 presents : Sparkling Islands, Another Postcard of the Caribbean

    1-54 Contemporary African Art Fair is pleased to announce Sparkling Islands, Another
    Postcard of the Caribbean, a group exhibition of contemporary Caribbean artists presented
    on the occasion of the fair’s 9th New York edition. Curated by Caryl Ivrisse Crochemar &
    [creative renegades society], this exhibition will feature work by April Bey, Jean-Ulrick Désert,
    Roland Dorcély, Adler Guerrier, Deborah Jack, Leasho Johnson, Remy Jungerman,
    Anina Major, Johanna Mirabel, Zak Ové, Nyugen E. Smith, Yoan Sorin
    and Alberta
    Whittle
    .

    High Line Nine
    507 W 27th St, New York, NY 10001

    May 11 through 20, 2023.

  • the light that persists even if

    how to go on 
             without you, the mercy 
    of morning, or moving, 

             the light that persists 
    even if. 

    […]

    can be  

             learned only 
    by living—there— 

    “As its title suggests, ‘Ledge’ is from the ‘Purgatory’ section, which, in our current era of social and bodily strife—not unlike Dante’s own time—manages to offer some hard-won hope.”
    Kevin Young, via poets.org


    brightandthincanopy0138

    I’m, you know, still here,
    tulip, resin [fluid], temporary [always]—

  • AG2023_2070893a or joy in the ordinary

    AG2023_2070893a

    “self-regenerative power lay in his joy in the ordinary, common experiences of day-to-day existence and particularly of contact with nature.” (RS)

  • We want so much before it’s taken from us—the radiance archive

    AG2023-film2021-000019920015a

    “Who else is in the market for a pint
    of papaya juice, a scruple of compassion

    […]

    We want so much before it’s taken from us,
    objects cry out, the things
    of this world, they are magnificent,
    they glow—the radiance archive,
    everything that shines is in it.
    Still, the lemon tree levies a tax upon my soul.
    Flowers strike their tiny hammer blows.
    The city makes its thousand demands,
    the city is a honeycomb
    of needs.

    […]

    Right now, I tell you
    I am listening to something that says
    let it go, fear not, rise
    along with me
    into a sky the color of amethyst and copper dust.
    It is not a voice, it is not even a bird,
    but I am listening.
    I believe it may be the light
    itself speaking to me”

    The Mercy Supermarket, Campbell McGrath; from New Yorker May 23, 2022 Issue

  • AG2023_1044540a or journeys and returns

    AG2023_1044540a

    “… the crux of the matter is journeys, exiles, escapes, and returns. Place is the driving force of the drama” (William Marx, The Tomb of Oedipus)

  • AG2023_1011701a

    AG2023_1011701a

    … incarnation of another place.

    … an idea of paradise, something that reconnects us with a landscape we have loved and which compensates us for our separation

    …[scented bushes and trees] … through “innocent magic”, “perfume the adjacent places by their breaths”

    The Well-Gardened Mind: The Restorative Power of Nature by Sue Stuart-Smith, via lithub.


    “close attention itself can be a kind of sustenance … systems of renewal” (RS)

  • What a person and a place can make together

    The Dig, 2021, Netflix. Wikipedia.

    Music by Stefan Gregory. Gregory’s thoughts on the music tonality.


    Landscape, soil, and belonging — via Richard Smyth on verso blog.

    “Soil in this sense may or may not be more than the stuff we happen to be standing on

    […]

    “a ‘re-enchanted’ world in which ‘soil and soul [are] venerated together’ in a ‘higher unity of nature”

    […]

    “We might also ask … whether in this communion of soul and soil there is a place for those of us who have no concept of a soul, and still less of a god, or for those of us born far from nourishing soil, who have always walked on brick, concrete, tarmac, and have never felt worse off for it, never lacked community, never knew that we were meaningless. ”

    […]

    “there are conceptions of place and belonging … where the local outweighs the general, where here means here, us us and this this, as opposed to not-there, not-you, not-that

    […]

    “[John] Clare’s identity – his inner identity, as an artist, yes, but above all as a free man, ‘a soul unshackled like eternity’ – was realised through, and not in spite of, his intense and inescapable personal identification with place.

    This is landscape as a personal preoccupation, ‘belonging’ not as a societal good, to be commodified and parcelled out to the worthy, but as a component of a lived experience, idiosyncratic, non-transferrable, perhaps a character trait, perhaps something more like a symptom.”

    […]

    “there are politics of borders, races, nations, and there are politics of love, belonging, politics of home. They are different even if they can’t ever be entirely discrete.”

    […]

    “describes a hard-earned belonging … [as] what a person and a place can make together, whether they want to or not.”

    […]

    “We are shaped by our landscapes. They might be green or grey, wide-open or built-up, they might be here or there or anywhere, we might not have chosen them, we might not love them, we might not even like them, but they shape us, no less than we have shaped them.” […] “there are as many ways of belonging as there are of loving, or of being loved


    The Data Delusion, Jill Lepore, New Yorker (March 27, 2023).

    “…imagine that all the world’s knowledge is stored, and organized, in a single vertical Steelcase filing cabinet. Maybe it’s lima-bean green. It’s got four drawers. Each drawer has one of those little paper-card labels, snug in a metal frame, just above the drawer pull. The drawers are labelled, from top to bottom, “Mysteries,” “Facts,” “Numbers,” and “Data.” Mysteries are things only God knows, like what happens when you’re dead. That’s why they’re in the top drawer, closest to Heaven. A long time ago, this drawer used to be crammed full of folders with names like “Why Stars Exist” and “When Life Begins,” but a few centuries ago, during the scientific revolution, a lot of those folders were moved into the next drawer down, “Facts,” which contains files about things humans can prove by way of observation, detection, and experiment. “Numbers,” second from the bottom, holds censuses, polls, tallies, national averages—the measurement of anything that can be counted, ever since the rise of statistics, around the end of the eighteenth century. Near the floor, the drawer marked “Data” holds knowledge that humans can’t know directly but must be extracted by a computer, or even by an artificial intelligence. It used to be empty, but it started filling up about a century ago, and now it’s so jammed full it’s hard to open.”