Hi! I'm Max, a 3D animator & artist for video games! I use Tumblr to share things that caught my eye, that I find interesting, or made me laugh. This should go without saying, but: opinions are not always mine, reblogs and likes do not imply endorsement. This blog has a long queue of posts. Every day at midnight CET/CEST, two get automatically posted.
staying in a snow globe (lookout tower) and caught a mountain spectre?? what the fuck this is so cool and rare… that’s my shadow/the lookouts shadow in the middle like woooow
In honor of this guy's passing let me once again tell the story of my favorite piece of art ever - Tilted Arc.
Commissioned by the US government in 1979 the work was made up of a 12x120 foot sheet of cor-ten steel which bisected Foley federal plaza in Manhattan. That's it. Just a sheet of metal in a plaza between several government buildings. It doesnt do anything. But it made people So Angry and also made the best argument I've ever seen for the worth of public art.
Foley square is the sqare around which the NY County courthouse, US Court of appeals, and several international ans national seats of law are positioned, which makes it a very important governmental spot in the US. These are the courts that don't send billionaires to jail and rule in class action suits against the prosecution.
The sculpture was installed after a lengthy period during which Serra carefully watched the way people interacted with and moved through the space. His artwork was as much a piece of participatory performance as it was a piece of sculpture, using the general public as part of the piece itself.
Of course everyone fucking hated it.
Because of the way the structure was positioned, lawyers and government employees had to walk around the structure, not only disrupting their habitual path of movement and allowing time for contemplation, but also making them contend directly with the people they were supposed to be working in the best interest of. The sculpture became a site of impromptu games of soccer between neighborhood kids, a makeshift arena for buskers because of the accoustics, and a windbreak under which the homeless could take shelter. It was a sculpture which made one intensely aware of their trajectory in space and thereby the world. While, granted, not as good as the park which had been initially considered (and which is there today) it did function as a living community space in ways it previously had not.
There were multiple hearings at which artists such as Claes Oldenburg, Joan Jonas, and Keith Harring argued in support of keeping the piece. But to no avail. After a protracted legal battle -- during which Serra stated his right to free speech and that the government itself had greenlit the commission and the government argued that the curvature of the piece would cause bomb blasts to ricochet into the courthouse (what?)-- the piece was dismantled in 1989 and is stored in a warehouse somewhere in Brooklyn to this day.
Ultimately the commission and subsequent censorship of the piece triggered long running debates over Institution vs. Public, general poor urban planning, public perception of art, and the creation of environments as art which continue to rage within sectors from public policy to architecture to art. It really shifted the discourse and formed the basis of a lot of my own academic inquiry.
Public art should not (and arguably can not) be just pure aesthetic frosting on the cake of life. It needs to activate a space, and, more importantly, activate people within that space. Contemporary art should make you uncomfortable, should make you think, and this piece really speaks to the general societal fear of anything that disrupts our routines or makes us think about our environment too much. It was a wakeup call and a community space and a free speech argument and an example of the stupidity of the US government all wrapped up in one thing and I love it so so so very much.
Anyway, RIP Richard. You made so many people so mad and so many people so happy. Hope you're frolicking in a field of rusty steel monoliths as was your happy place.
*to ethics board* well im sorry you feel that way (lie detector attached to me starts blaring) but i thought my experiments were benefitting humanity (lie detector has started incorporating subtle amen breaks)
My first time operating CCTV cameras I was handed control over what was essentially 50 independently moving eyes that collectively covered an area about the size of a football field and from that experience I now know that
Suddenly having 50 moving eyes can make you disoriented and barfy and the adjustment period sucks ass
It takes both more and less time than you’d think to figure out what the structure as a whole looks like and where those eyes ARE
After you get used to it the entirety of the structure itself and all of the eyes you can see from feels like an extension of your nervous system in a very bizarre way. Like I have dreams now from the perspective of A Building and I’m not sure how to describe that.
Once you are aware of an unreachable blind spot it nags at you constantly and you can feel it like a hard little lump under your skin you need to poke and scratch at and it’s ardghgguychgghhbhhhbhhh
And on top of that, having operated CCTV at multiple locations now- my favourite and most comfortable one having excess of 60 cameras- it can be REALLY hard to suddenly jump to a different operating interface and display configuration, because all the muscle memory is wrong
On my COMFORTABLE system, the one I spent the longest time on, I never had to think about what code I needed to punch in. If I needed to watch a specific person, I could follow them all over the site without thinking about it.
Now at a different location, all the manual equipment and codes and lag and resolution are different, and it feels like going from playing the piano to driving stick shift on the left side of the road with my feet
The closest I imagine I can equate it to is like. Getting really really good at painting with a pair of prosthetic hands, and then suddenly having them swapped out with someone else’s
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