“Were these taken in Pragati Nagar?”
— My young cousin, who has never been outside Hyderabad, upon seeing these photos. Pragati Nagar is an upper class neighborhood of Hyderabad.
- Cour intérieure, 26 septembre 2008
- Cour intérieure, 15 février 2009
- Cour intérieure, 17 février 2009
Ilfochrome prints mounted on aluminium
120 x 152 cm each one
© Marie Bovo
Courtesy the artist and kamel mennour, Paris
7:54 pm • 16 May 2013 • 138 notes • View comments
that liberated, post-detox feeling
VIZAG, May 10:
My room here is air-conditioned and I am able, for the first time in a month, to check email on my own laptop. Somehow this is a treat, albeit a sinister one. I’m believing more and more that the internet is a drug. We become addicted to the flow of data, and start convincing ourselves that we need to be online if we’re going to partake in the 21st century. Sure it can be useful enough, like any good narcotic, but soon it fills our head with noise and we stop thinking straight and are all of a sudden denying how little it matters to even our modern urban lives and whispering false consolations about our dependency to that acid drip of information (secretly, subconsciously I mean). I’ve been on the internet for hardly three hours today, and it’s been a slow connection and all I’ve really done was Facebook and look up contact info for sources plus some work-related reading, but already my mind is buzzing with peevish little packets of data. It’s making me sick the same way smokers feel sick if they’re back at it again after a long time. The internet is the biggest revolution in recent times, the biggest we’ll maybe see in our lives and probably the most important thing to happen since like, WWII. I think that’s because it’s the most addictive thing ever invented. Imagine if you could neatly sort all the internet usage in the world into a productive pile and an unproductive pile (probably not so simple but let’s assume that ‘productive’ means whatever the user would honestly describe as necessary or work-related) and then you somehow deleted everything in the unproductive pile such that it never existed in the first place. Can you imagine what kind of a world that would be? I can’t.
Here’s what I know: when I was away from the internet, in the field, and I stopped thinking about the virtual world completely, I felt more free.
6:00 pm • 11 May 2013 • 5 notes • View comments
“We should also note that far less expensive – sometimes 100 times less expensive – conventional breeding techniques have outstripped genetic engineering techniques over the last 20 years, during which G.E. techniques have gotten far more publicity. (Conventionally bred drought resistance has raised yields around 30 percent in the last 30 years; Monsanto’s drought-resistant corn, says Gurian-Sherman, promises at most a 6 percent increase, and that only in moderate drought.) We’re using more pesticides than ever (something like 400 million pounds in the last 15 years), and net yields from applied genetic engineering in the United States are only a bit higher (and then only in monocrop systems) than net yields from seeds developed using more conventional techniques.”
— GMOs are a technology that can’t survive the free market. They cost more to do less. And they harm natural biodiversity like whoa. Which is why they need all this protection.
2:31 pm • 4 April 2013 • View comments
The Hindu: No high five for RTE
Nearly every village I’ve been to in India has had a school, or at least one within a 15 minute walk. What was woefully absent was quality in education. I’ve seen schools where a teacher hadn’t shown up in six months. Schools staffed by only a single teacher, working part time, teaching all the students from kindergarteners to fifth graders together (the lessons settled on some happy 2nd standard medium). Schools that were desperately understaffed, in villages where college graduates with teaching degrees sat idly, because of bureaucratic stays on hiring. The upshot being that Indian students, even in the best states, are among the worst performers in the world. There’s no “right” to education without going well beyond installing new latrines and chalkboards.
5:55 pm • 3 April 2013 • 4 notes • View comments
A third in my Infinite Jest film poster series…
Blood Sister: One Tough Nun. 35mm.; 90 minutes; color; sound. Parody of revenge/recidivism action genre, a formerly delinquent nun’s failure to reform a juvenile delinquent leads to a rampage of recidivist revenge.
2:58 pm • 27 March 2013 • 89 notes • View comments
Another from the Infinite Jest film poster series…
Homo Duplex. Super-8mm.; 70 minutes, black and white; sound. Parody of Woititz and Shulgin’s ‘poststructural antidocumentaries,’ interviews with fourteen Americans who are named John Wayne but are not the legendary 20th-century film actor John Wayne.
Posters based on James Incandenza’s films, from Infinite Jest. These are great.
2:57 pm • 27 March 2013 • 56 notes • View comments
“Taking up arms wasn’t, for Bassem, a moral error so much as a strategic one. He and everyone else I spoke with in the village insisted they had the right to armed resistance; they just don’t think it works.”
— NYT: Is This Where the Third Intifada Will Start? One definitely worth reading.
4:54 pm • 26 March 2013 • View comments
We always want not just the right solution to a mystery, we want a beautiful solution. And when we meet a mysterious thing, we are always inclined to believe that it must therefore conceal an inner beauty. When we see an impregnable tower, we immediately are sure that there must be a princess inside.
The cynical, ugly Mechanical Turk.
4:31 pm • 26 March 2013 • View comments
“An early indication that there was a cost to the new post-Soviet money rolling into the Bolshoi Ballet came, in 2003, with the case of the so-called “fat ballerina.” Anastasia Volochkova occupies a place in Russian pop culture these days somewhere between a ringer on “Dancing with the Stars” and a cast member of “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.” Curvaceous and bleached, Volochkova is the cartoonish epitome of garish, new-money Russia. She has made the intimate acquaintance of one obliging oligarch after another. When she finally married, the ceremony was broadcast on television; she had three wedding dresses—white, pink, and pistachio. In 2009, Volochkova declared her intention to run for the position of mayor of Sochi—the site of the 2014 Winter Olympics—but she was barred from contention after she failed to properly register her age on the forms. And yet Volochkova deflects mockery and disappointment with a flick of her fluttering fingernails. Living well, she knows, is the best revenge. Or, as she has put it, “I will fuck the shit out of the entire world. In a good way.”
— From Danse Macabre, by David Remnick.
1:52 pm • 20 March 2013 • 1 note • View comments