AG2025AG2025IMG_0910aa or too embarrassed to chase it


“Being John Smith” at Secession, Vienna by Ana Teixeira Pinto. (Mousse)

“Like John Smith, I am unhappy with my own name and thought often about changing it. Also like John Smith, “I have always been desperate for fame” but too embarrassed to chase it. Perhaps Leo Tolstoy was wrong, and we are all unhappy in the same way. Perhaps the desire for fame masks a deeper, entirely valid human need, namely to be seen without the discomfort of rejection. A spotlight can be a shield against loneliness, or at least against those awkward companionless moments at social events. One used to pretend enjoying a cigarette. Now I see a lot of people clutching small dogs. If I had to describe Being John Smith, I would say it’s about the failure to cohere—the awkward moments, the missed connections, the sheer difficulty of alignment. The fractures that are the constant, ungainly companions to our most polished fantasies.”

Sophie Ristelhueber

2025 Hasselblad Award Laureate.

Galeri Poggi. What the Fuck!. Paris Photo.

WB. Format. Photobook.

WB #10, 2005. tirage argentique couleur, contrecollé sur aluminium, encadré. 120 x 150 cm. Edition of 3 plus 1 AP (#1/3).

Sleep tight

https://sites.fondationlouisvuitton.fr/digital/siteweb/EXE_Brochure-num-Gerhard_Richter-3-EN-2.pdf


Sleep tight with your ultraviolets

          righteous mica and drainage seeps

                               your gorgeous color-chart container ships

                               and cab-top numbers squinting in the mist

Big City Speech, W. S. Di Piero

AG2025AG2024_1122415aa2 projecting an end


ways of being inactive: rest, … and leisure (Aristotle)

Leisure was the form of inactivity appropriate to so-called free or active men, who were capable either of projecting the ends of their activity far ahead, or of acting solely for the pleasure of asserting their capacity for action.

a form of society where the generic activity of human beings – labour – has become an end in itself, rather than a mere means of survival (Marx, 1844 Manuscripts)

via JC

AG2025_1199820a or open to your bees’ warm stare


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.

May Swenson