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Showing posts from November, 2018


LEWIS BALTZ   Published on Feb 25, 2015   Lewis Baltz. Les non-lieux du paysage. Dossier réalisé par Nassim Daghighian, historienne de l'art spécialisée en photographie, critique d'art et enseignante. PDF disponible sur

factory demolition site

Hoa Hakananai'a

bbc website

sand, 2015-2018

Britain Should Not Have Fought in the First World War

Vera Brittain: Armistice Day in London, (Testament of Youth)


“Brittain! Brittain! Did you hear the maroons? It’s over — it’s all over! Do let’s come out and see what’s happening!” Mechanically I followed her into the road. As I stood there, stupidly rigid, long after the triumphant explosions from Westminster had turned into a distant crescendo of shouting, I saw a taxicab turn swiftly in from the Embankment towards the hospital. The next moment there was a cry for doctors and nurses from passers-by, for in rounding the comer the taxi had knocked down a small elderly woman who in listening, like myself, to the wild noise of a world released from nightmare, had failed to observe its approach. As I hurried to her side I realised that she was all but dead and already past speech. Like Victor in the mortuary chapel, she seemed to have shrunk to the dimensions of a child with the sharp features of age, but on the tiny chalk-white face an expression of shocked surprise still lingered, and she stared hard at me as Geoffrey had stared at h…

let there be sky and clouds where once you were

It was a sunny day and on my way to the supermarket detoured to take a look at the nearby factory that I've photographed on various occasions over the last few years. It was the tallest industrial structure around here and when viewing the city from uphill it stood out for its size. It was now gone.

Looking up where the imposing building had been there was an open expanse of blue November sky with clouds slipping by, marking time. I could picture myself a few months ago, up seventy or eighty feet, under the roof joists, on the narrow metal walkway, almost frozen with nervousness as I'm scared of heights and telling myself that the chances of the whole thing collapsing at the precise moment I was on it were pretty low. In another factory building along that road I could hear structural metalwork collapsing as that building was in its turn being pulled apart.

Brian Griffin: Monsieur Marquez, Richebourg, France, 2017

“I was obsessed with the idea that the blood and the bones and the limbs of all became part of the soil" - BJP

Edward Plunkett, Nov 1918

acenturyback: Eddie woke in the middle of the night, Nov 7/8 , and wrote part of his dirge of Victory and finished it at the W.O. next day.

A Dirge Of Victory Lift not thy trumpet, Victory, to the sky,
Nor through battalions nor by batteries blow,
But over hollows full of old wire go,
Where among dregs of war the long-dead lie
With wasted iron that the guns passed by.
When they went eastwards like a tide at flow;
There blow thy trumpet that the dead may know,
Who waited for thy coming, Victory. It is not we that have deserved thy wreath,
They waited there among the towering weeds.
The deep mud burned under the thermite’s breath,
And winter cracked the bones that no man heeds:
Hundreds of nights flamed by: the seasons passed.
And thou last come to them at last, at last!

Laurie Simmons: Some New: Shirin (Yellow), 2018

Modern Art Notes podcast

John Divola

aperture article by Jonathan Griffin