Celebrating Unity in Kassel

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Lovely day in Kassel, at about 4:30 am, workers from a local construction company began dismantling Olu Oguibe’s “contro­versial obelisk made for Documenta 14, titled “Monument to Strangers and Refugees,” (“I was a stranger and you took me in”: Matthew 25:35) with two heavy cranes.

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By 9:30 am, the obelisk was entirely gone, strapped to a flatbed truck and sent to a construction site on the outskirts of the city (where it now remains).

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Hmmm …

Well, I suppose … we couldn’t burn it.

via hyper­allergic and again

Brace brace brace … and fight fight fight.

Echoes

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Now is the autumn of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of the Anthro­pocene;
And all the clouds that lour’d upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

Just for one day …

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Really do need to get over the whole triangles thang.

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Basked in the balmy after­shock of summer … can slide into mellow mists, content.

The Rocky Shore

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There are no straight lines in nature … waste not want not because every cloud has a silver lining … apart from the ones that are …

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And if it looks alike it must have the same cause or at least be related somehow … rhino horns and willies … it’s obvious … or not.

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Glimpsing parallel universes … through the looking glass.

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An escapee from the set of a 60’s star trek episode. Just after this, I picked it up and, with much affected huffing and puffing, threw it at a reptilian alien who disagreed with me.

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Graphics and … Caligraphy

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Exploring, wandering, clambering across Porth Ledden just below the Cape …

The Old One Comes to claim his own …

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An impromptu, innocent and gentle crepus­cular walk in the grounds of Trelissick turns into an unexpected action movie plot point: a monstrous kraken hauls itself from the mire and lumbers, clicking and creaking and groaning, fingers its way across the sward … and we run … and I tip my camera over my shoulder in the hope of … and we are free … well, derrr …

And then today I was wandering across the apoca­lytic wastes around Geevor and was reminded of the obsess­ively claustral, sepulchral aesthetic of the geolo­gical vampires of our recent past.

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Friends who’ve come here say: it’s not pretty — no; it’s so fright­en­ingly, danger­ously hard — yes; it doesn’t let you forget, does it — no; but it still slips its mineral veins deep into your soul like brittle mycelium — oh yes.

And wherever you go, the Bucca are watching …

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You can fly to the furthest reaches of the globe and fuck the future of our world, and ignore the politics and the ecology and the economics and … and gawp at the natural wonders of the world and tick off your bucket list scores or you can look around yourself, here and now, orient yourself and choose to belong and see the beauty and the depth and the magic of the place where you stand … and …

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cobble together a collage of 6 photos and try to say something about us, people, and the earth, and about the sea and history and hardship and pain and about home.

Redux

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Because the premise is a lie … was always. Because family feuds are worse, civil wars not and because antisemitism is not exclusive when it comes to who the semites are … because Trump is, Netanyahu is … not …

And so people die. And live without hope … and now less … if that’s possible.

And not to aesthetisise anyone else’s pain, and not to ignore the ancient greek’s misogyny … why is this shit still going on … I’m not naive, just sad and angry.