MOVING FORWARD : 2010 ALP election slog-on
The Politicians of Oz Poor Try are on tour again!
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A Person Looks At A Work Of Art/
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The event is part of “Australia’s Biggest Morning Tea” and alongside the refreshment tables are stalls weighed down with embroidered cushions, fitted sheets, homemade cakes and back issues of Australian Country Craft magazine, as well as plenty of unwanted kitsch from the neighbouring cul-de-sacs and avenues, such as an empty picture frame, as yet unpurchased, emblazoned with the words “Gold Coast”.
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One - brush - the picture is painted,
Another brush blacks it out again.
Who are those coming from one direction?
Who are those floating the other way?
terminus of Railway Station
by Rabindranath Tagore
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The world is merely the work of a painter,
This is the truth I have accepted -
Not made by a craftsman, beaten and moulded,
Not a thing the hand can grip hold of,
But an insubstantial visual sequence.
Age follows age, never losing momentum,
A stream of forming and passing pictures.
Alone in the midst of the to-ing and fro-ing
I watch the constant flux of the station.
One - brush - the picture is painted,
Another brush blacks it out again.
Who are those coming from one direction?
Who are those floating the other way?
from Railway Station
by Rabindranath Tagore
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Railway Station
I come to the station morning and evening,
I love to watch the coming and going -
Hubbub of passengers pressing for tickets,
Down-trains boarded, up-trains boarded,
Ebb and flow like an estuarine river.
Some people sitting there ever since morning,
Other people missing their train by a minute.Day - Night - clanking and rumbling,The essence of all these moving pictures
Trainloads of people thundering forth.
Changing direction at every moment,
Eastwards, westwards, rapid as storms.
Brings to my mind the image of language,
Forever forming, forever unforming,
Continuous coming, continuous going.
Crowds can fill the stage in an instant -
The guard's flag waves the train's departure
And suddenly everyone disappears somewhere.
The hurry disguises their joys and sorrows,
Masks the pressure of gains and lossesBho - Bho- blows the whistle,Succeeding, failing, boarding or remaining,
Ruled by the clock's division of time.
No one can bear to wait for a second,
some get aboard, some stay behind.
- Nothing but picture after picture.
Whatever catches the eye for a moment
- Is erased the next moment after.
A whimsical game, a self-forgetting
- Ever-dissolving sequence -
Each canvas ripped, its shreds discarded
- To pile up along the roadside,
Detritus lifted hither and thither
- By tired hot summer breezes.
'Hold back, hold back,' rings out the clamour
- Of passengers left stranded -
Next thing they have also vanished,
- Chasing, running, wailing.Clang - Clang - sounds the tocsin,The world is merely the work of a painter,
Time for good-bye, off goes the train.
Passengers leaning out of the windows,
Waving until they are whisked away.
This is the truth I have accepted -
Not made by a craftsman, beaten and moulded,
Not a thing the hand can grip hold of,
But an insubstantial visual sequence.
Age follows age, never losing momentum,
A stream of forming and passing pictures.
Alone in the midst of the to-ing and fro-ing
I watch the constant flux of the station.One - brush - the picture is painted,
Another brush blacks it out again.
Who are those coming from one direction?
Who are those floating the other way?
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LOGOS/HA HA
RECOVERY - 14We have a dear such dog, so we get that. She also read me the commentary note (from here) :
Every day in the early morning this faithful dog
Sits quietly beside my chair
For as long as I do not acknowledge his presence
By the touch of my hand.
The moment he receives this small recognition,
Waves of happiness leap through his body.
In the inarticulate animal world
Only this creature
Has pierced through good & bad and seen
Complete man.
Has seen him for whom
Life may be joyfully given,
That object of a free outpouring love
Whose consciousness points the way
To the realm of infinite consciousness.
When I see the dumb heart
Revealing its own humility
Through total self-surrender,
I feel unequal to the worth
His simple perception has found through the nature of man.
The wistful anxiety in his mute gaze
Understands something he cannot explain:
It directs me to the true meaning of man in the universe.
Dharma and canine fidelity are linked in a famous passage near the end of the Mahabharata, when Yudisthira, eldest of the five Pandava brothers, refuses to enter heaven without his dog Dhruba. Eventually the dog is allowed in, and turns out to be the god Dharma.I'll return to this soon.
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For as long as space endures
And for as long as living beings remain
Until then may I too abide
To dispel the misery of the world.
In the land encircled by snow mountains
You are the source of all happiness and good
All powerful Chenrezig, Tenzin Gyatso
Please remain until samsara ends.
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SIGMAR POLKE: LENS PAINTINGS
1 April 2009
Michael Werner Gallery is pleased to present Sigmar Polke: Lens Paintings, a major exhibition of new works by one of the most important artists of the post-war generation.
The Lens Paintings are a new development for an artist whose career is characterized by over 40 years of radical invention in painting. The conceptual framework of the Lens Paintings is grounded in theories set forth by Johann Zahn in his 1685 book, Oculus artificialis teledioptricus, sive telescopium (The Teledioptric Artificial Eye, or Telescope). Zahn, a monk in the Premonstrate Order, was an important figure in the development of the camera obscura, and his “teledioptric artificial eye”, a forerunner of the telephoto lens. According to Zahn, every luminous object in the universe varies in appearance depending on the viewer’s position.
read full Press Release text here
"The Illusionist (Lens Painting)", 2007
mixed media on fabric
86 1/2 x 118 inches
220 x 300 cm
POL 317
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