[NetBehaviour] seven omaha videos

Alan Sondheim sondheim at panix.com
Sun Apr 15 17:15:31 CEST 2012



seven omaha videos

for Lee Murray, Barbara Simcoe, and Michael Szpakowski

on the virtual, on intrusions, on signaling and communality

http://www.alansondheim.org/pizzeria.mp4 Azure shimmies oddly
http://www.alansondheim.org/singing.mp4 odder flute and voice
  in high wind while something exploded in the background, big
  emergency
http://www.alansondheim.org/woodpecker.mp4 downy woodpecker
  perfectly poised preening, performing
http://www.alansondheim.org/descentpain.mp4 i suppose descent
  of a tower from which singing and explosion were heard
http://www.alansondheim.org/ethno.mp4 zoo ethnography of
  humans with syringes and field notebooks among animals and
  virtual backdrops, virtual freedom, virtual communality
http://www.alansondheim.org/flagpain.mp4 fifty mile per hour
  wind and flag against sputtering sound from flag, sarangi,
  voice
http://www.alansondheim.org/jellyfish.mp4 because of the
  untoward beauty, in spite of the aquarium, without sound,
  no mimickry

There are small shifts in the everyday behavior of men and
women, in the light, in reflections in the sky, in the
slightest changes of pitch or echoes that appear to come
from nowhere. magnified, the world suffers, organisms come
to life, things totter, topple, what is - was, what was - is
fast disappearing, what will be - has already corroded. zoo
animals live - are kept alive; the jellyfish remains mobile,
immobile; the flag might as well be a frond from sigillaria,
leaf from neuropteris; flute and voice are already lost in
the mythical darkness of wind and explosions; for a moment,
Azure moves to the rhythm of the corporate and time unwinds;
for a moment, this bird, this woodpecker, here, signals in a
search for food; and for a moment, descent takes the body
from the wind, and the hollowed rasp of metal stairs takes
over. It is all already gone. It is all built on and from
the everyday - look, you'll never guess what happened to me
this morning, who could of thought something like that would
occur in the middle of the night. We live among these
tremblings, not long enough for the grand cycles to mean
anything more than the flattened pages of history: we have
to read the world in such a small amount of time, everything
is lost, everything disappearing, where we were born is
never bearing down, where we are headed is all too familiar,
everything trembles, shudders, everything is otherwise...





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