Thursday, July 30, 2009
Emigrating to Australia
is no more difficult
than being born
(both happen by themselves)
See also many-moods-of-sydney and somewhere over the rainbow
All pictures on this blog taken with my trusty cellphone camera.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
If you're interested in seeing more of the artist's work you can contact her or him on firstname.lastname@example.org
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Young beautiful naked couple
facing the camera unafraid, unashamed, unselfconscious, their hands touch
she has a stain of mentrual blood on her inner left thigh
PSA - the Australian coat of arms.
FX rifle shots. The kangeroo keels over. A joey emerges from its pocket and is clubbed to death, as per the guidelines...see this review of current legislation
then the kangeroo is stuffed, and glassy eyed, propped back up again next to the national coat of arms...
how to promote, suport and sustain ongoing integration in afractured world where contradiction seems to be built into the fabric itself?
Heavily pregnant woman whose stomach protrudes like a third breast - in fact a nipple has been drawn onto her obtruding belly button so that it really does look like a large nipple...a man is looking on appreciatively (hungrily) saying "wow"
A father is showing his son some of the features of the summer night sky. Some can be seen with the naked eye, some like a supernova they train their 8 inch amateur telescope upon are only revealed in their full splendour through the eyepiece. the son searces the sky and stops on a celstial feature and gasps. we cut to what he is seeing...its is a spectacular supernova swirling in pinks and ornages and piurples and blues, and at its centre a dark blackness, what's that dad, he asks, dad says I'll look now, the son fiddles with focus controls, it becomes clearer and more centred
it looks like....a mouth or, no not a mouth...
the dad looks...
ah that son, he says, beautiful isn't it...some people say that's where human life came from...
what's it called dad,
that son is called the labia majora...beautiful aren't they
All wrapped up (it's a wrap)
Present wrapped in Australian flag wrapping paper and then so tightly bound with red tape the present has become misshapen and distorted
Guy is sounding off again on his computer about "the zionists this" and "the zionists that", tapping away furiously on the keys like a man posessed (which he is), we tighten on computer screen so that we can see what he's typing, its full of adjectives and hyperbole and righteous wrath and judgements...
dump trucks offloading their rotting cargo, a sewrage works pipe disgorging itself, cows burping and farting in a feed lot
Guy is now at a bar, trying to rouse his buddies, some of them are enrollable, others think its all a big joke...
Beautiful young child minder walking in park with her charge, a little girl who is five, together a perfect picture of feminimity, they meet a handsome young man, start chatting, the child minder finds herself having passionate sex with the young man in a secluded area while the little girl looks on fascinated, still holding onto the one outstretched hand of her childminder for comfort....what a loaded situation , charged with all kinds of taboo resonances...
and see here
Old woman whose jaws move mechanically on a piece of gum is rifling through fruit at a fruit and veg shop, turning over and pinching and squeezing. We are slightly irritated by her blissfully unaware presence - she blocks other shoppers who are trying to get to fruit. She finds something she likes , puts it in one of those thin thin plastic bags, ties a knot in it and puts it in a trolley, joing a multitude of other plastic bags each containing one item. She continues to the next variety of fruit
WE CUT TO
land fill site with mountains of plastic bags half decayd and being lifted by thermals to spin and soar before dropping
animal ingesting the plastic or chicks being fed it or seal with six pack etc etc
Intercut between flood coverage and cricket coverageto highlight the similarities...lad with audio so that sometimes we'r not sure which is been spoken of...
The spiral of life...ever since I saw these I've been on a downward spiral
Wanted: woman with large breasts to be photographed (face will not be seen) for a bona fide arts project...for details please call Mano. (Spirals radiating out from the nipple to cover entire breast - draw with koki pen). eg. Alex at eastgate
Large funnel which tapers down to a little tube mouth...at the one end sheep and chickens and cows and pigs are fed into it, pushed and rammed and shoved into it and at the other end is a little chiuaua dog in a coat, manicured, who feeds from the dog food dish at the base of the funnel. Title? "Privileged"
Toilet cistern with cigarette box warning: Usng full flush may be hazardous to your planets's health
Warning labels at fast food outlets
Video installations in windows of fast food places showing factory farms:"what's wrong with this picture?"
water tanks dressed up as supeheroes with signs on them "I saved 10 000 litres of water today"
pictures of dried up rivers mounted above toilet cisterns in public toilets
pictures of landfill mounted above bins where compostible material is mistakenly being put
with STOP sign - stop - think - why make this mountain of rubbish bigger - put in the composting bin!
I look at pornography
like a fish struggling on a hook - tis needs to be a literal imageThe Cosmic Surfer...a chasid with peyos and beard flying, a big blue sky domed kipa, surfing on a skateboard between saturn and Jupiter
Veyerastich li....vuluptuous woman and man - naked - bound together with tefillin
"Human beings celebrating being on top of the food chain." Barbie (braai / mengal) where men stand around poking saussages, beers in hand, trading sports results, while women put out salids or sit talking, off to the side are several bound, truseed, handcuffed and blinded animals - a calf, a pig, a turkey, " waiting to be eaten. Above this hovers Christ on a crucifix and from his lips comes a speech bubble "merry Christmas everyone..."
Could do the same with pasach - zeh zeman cheyruteynu...time of our freedom, but not time of freedom for animals
1) Sign seen at an Australian T Junction
3) Post Industrial Holiday - they are in a holiday house with huge glass windows through which lush forest can be seen, but are all staring at a large plasma screen on which the same forest is electronically represented.
4)Video for the Blake competition: An army lieuftenant is shouting at his new recruits (both male and female)
"You are that sweetness"
Moves down the line, spittles in to the face of the next recruit:
"You are the Supreme."
Moves down to a very old recruit who is nevertheless dressed in marine fatigues:
"You will never die
Perhaps to a young child ( we wouldn't have noticed these exceptional cadets earlier, they would have been masked by the more normal looking soldiers"
"You were never born"
(In childish pipe): Yes Sah
"Say something soldier?"
"Speak up cadet!"
I don't think....I can....sah"
Yes. Don't think. Then you can. True. No doubts soldier. I know you better than you think you know yourself.
4) I wish
Muscular trim jogger
5) Production office
6) Jewish erotica - see 2009 diary
The mikvah experience
Third meal - when the male and female aspects merge - three people lie in a triangle, one male, one female one transgender, she is sucking the transexuals penis, heis sucking the transgendrs breasts, the transgender sucks the womans breasts, the man's penis is in the transgender sucking her breasts, a third person suck
sexual baby - to see the world as soft.
Fairy Tales for modern children
Once there was a family that had two children. They loved the one child very much. They would brush her hair and gave her a basket to sleep in by the fire. The other child was not so lucky. She had to sleep outside in a cold smelly pit, and no one ever spoke to her, although once a day someone would come and throw her a few mouldy scarps to eat.
One day some people came to visit. They heard crying and sobbing from the pit outside. Is someone hurt? they asked with concern. "Its nothing" said the father, "just a wild animal". But the faint noise persisted. "Excuse me" said the father.
He went outside and told the naughty child if she continued to cry he would beat her and cut off her tail. The child tried to stop crying, but the tears kept on coming.
Are you sure everything is allrighty asked the guests.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Cutting Through the Mountain was published in 1997 by Penguin Books. Its a collection of interviews with prominent South African Jews who were involved - in one way or another - with ending apartheid.
Interviewees range from the only liberal voice in the Apartheid parliament - Helen Suzman - to outlawed communists and ANC members Joe Slovo, Ronnie Kasrils and Gill Marcus. Most have high public profiles, but some, like the late Jack Flior, trade unionist Taffy Adler, educator Franz Auerbach and arbitrator Laurie Nathan are relatively unknown.
Some of the people in the book, such as Nobel prize winner Nadine Gordimer and cross-over musician Johnny Clegg, are not commonly identified as Jewish, and they discuss what being Jewish has meant to them.
The book took two and a half years to research and write, and its 636 pages were edited down from some 2 000 pages of interviews. The interviewers included author and architect Geoff Sifrin, the late Professor Joseph Sherman, Dr Fran Buntman, filmmaker Harriet Gavshon, journalist and writer Mark Gevisser, poet and sexologist Dr Bernard Levinson, poet and editor Robert Berold, and journalist Julie Gordon. Photographic portraits of the interviewees - by Gisele Wulfsohn - were especially comissioned for the book. Other photographers include Anna Zieminski and Ellen Elmendorp.
"Each interview is as delightfully different as the individuals revealing themselves. It's the abiding humanity of these people, the absence of cant and polemic, that gives this collection its potency... the stories we are told in this volume are at times touching, bitter, very angry, funny but always incisive, moral and honest....eight out of ten for Cutting Through the Mountain."
"And what of the whole ? In my view it is enormously impressive. It makes for fascinating reading, presents an important slice of our history, is intelligently and elegantly contextualised by Suttner, and is beautifully produced." (Jeremy Gordin, The Sunday Independent)
"It is an invaluable contribution, much better than I expected. I am especially impressed by the Jewishness of Suttner's approach. He also shows ability to conceptualise things in the broader context of modern Jewish history." (Professor Gideon Shimoni, Hebrew University of Jerusalem)
End of the Treason Trial in 1958: The late Issie Maisels, as he is being lifted onto the shoulder of supporters, reaches for his pipe. Taken outside the Old Pretoria Synagogue where the trial was being held. Photograph copyright Alf Kumalo.
Extract from interview with the late Barney Simon, creative force behind the Market Theatre
"They [My parents] were not political at all. They were pragmatists. They were the kind of ghetto Jews who just wanted to be left in peace. First of all, my mother was, I supposes, the matriarch of the extended family. She was the one collecting the shillings to bring out nieces and nephews from Lithuania, and in fact one was being negotiated -- a beautiful young girl -- when the Holocaust enveloped Europe. I still have a picture of her. They closed immigration in 1939 while my mother was still negotiating, and she died, my cousin Leah, with the rest of her family, in the gas chambers. [But my mom had] brought out a number of nephews and nieces. Some of them prospered.
There was always a strong sense of Hitler in my childhood. In fact, I knew that bush in the garden where I would hide when Hitler came. You know Camus, the French writer, once said about an artist that 'A man's work is little more than his journey through his life in order to rediscover the two or three great and simple images that first found access to his heart.' I have one very special memory that to me somehow relates to my life, my family, and theatre. That is when I was about four or five years old being in Jeppe shul during the War years, downstairs with my father, my mother across the way -- the most beautiful woman on that side of the balcony -- and very proud that this woman was flirting with me, asking me if I was thirsty on Yom Kippur, trying to convince me to eat and showing me great attention. I would sometimes sit upstairs with her or come down to my father. And there was one woman on the same side as my mother in the poorest seat in the synagogue -- she had one leg and a heavy boot on her remaining leg -- she was dressed in black, more like a Greek widow than Jewish. When she came up the concrete stairs outside, you could hear the bang of her crutches and her boot, and when she got to the top of the women's balcony and have to walk down, she banged so loud that the service would have to pause. When she prayed, she used to beat herself and wail. To me she represented a witch, particularly as there she was in a seat from which she couldn't even see the Ark, on the same side where my mother was so resplendent -- my mother was a Lithuanian peasant woman, but she had a really natural chic.
One day a little rebbe came to the shul. I didn't know who he was. I remember him being very small and he had a reddish beard. He got on the podium and started to talk, and I didn't know what he was talking about. He was talking in a fast Yiddish and the whole synagogue, which was this synagogue of landslayt, began to rock and wail, and he was describing the slaughter of the Lithuanian Jews by the Lithuanian goyim , not even by the Nazis. From what I understood afterwards and in years later, he was describing the slaughter of the Jews in the Vilna ghetto. He was describing bayoneting and rapes and beheadings and God knows what and I will never forget looking up in the middle of all this chaos in the synagogue -- that terrible wail -- and seeing my mother beating herself like that old woman in black. That is something that has always remained with me. When I did Marat/Sade I used that wail at the moment when Marat fears that he is going blind and is comforted by the fact that he can’t see because of the smoke of bodies burning.I know that experience somehow made me a Jew. It's something that has always stayed with me and was obviously very important to me in terms of understanding my mother, my family, the destiny of my people."
"Then in Killarney, I was arrested by the police, and charged with trespassing. All the caretakers there didn't want me to go up to the buildings. They just thought this was very abnormal. Here’s this white 14 year old boy with a guitar going upstairs, and being with the servants while they were drinking, and they didn't know what was going on. And there was this constant sort of innuendo put across to me by the police when I was arrested, and by the caretakers, that there's something else that I'm after, what's going on, am I being abused, or ... they could never have accepted it for what it was. I realised that these people couldn't see, they couldn't see the reality. There was a reality there that they could not actually perceive. I was arrested again at Wemmer hostel, three or four times. I became very aware of having to enter and exit black areas with care and caution. And I became very good at it.
[I was arrested for] Group areas contravention in the hostels and municipal compounds. And trespassing on private property was the other. But it was the only way I could get to play with other musicians, black street musicians. I remember the first time that I was arrested at Wemmer hostel. I was fifteen. I was dancing with Richard Zwane's Shameni team, and it was a new style. I had danced with Charlie's Bhaca Emabomvini team, learnt Bhaca for two years, already been arrested at Charlie’s compound, and now I was going to Wemmer hostel. I was in the hostel when the police arrived and took me away. The team just said the whites have come to take their boy, we won't see him again. They didn’t fight for me. The police took me to my mum, and said ‘listen, we've caught your boy inside Wemmer hostel, it's extremely dangerous, 2 or 3 bodies come out there every weekend from inter-tribal warfare, and it's a place of illicit gambling, stolen goods, prostitution. We go in there armed. It's no place for a young white boy to be. In the first place it's dangerous and in the second place it's illegal. And you know as he gets older, we're going to arrest him and put him in jail. So you just keep him out the way.’
My mother and I used to have these huge arguments about me going into these areas, and I must say that in the end, she understood one thing, which I played on, she understood the love of music. She loved jazz. She wanted to be Ella Fitzgerald. If she could, that's who she wanted to be. I wanted to be a Zulu street guitarist and she could understand that, and she could understand the frustration of wanting to be that in a country where it was basically against the law. So, she just said ‘look after yourself. And I'm not going to come bail you out anymore. You carry money in your pocket, you pay your fine.’
I went back to the hostel. The next weekend I was there. So, they said, oh you came back. Oh that's very good. And about a month later, the police raided the hostel again, I was caught again, and this time the dancers put up a fight. They defended me, and they said no, he's a dancer. He's dancing here, and he's our boy, and he's a good boy. He's not a crook, and he's not a criminal, he's been dancing here for four hours, we can vouch for him. The police still took me out, but it was a rite of passage for me, and I had basically passed, the dancers let me in, because I went back. And I kept on going back, and I was arrested again and again. Eventually my headmaster found out about this, Dr. Davies. He called me in, and said, it had come to his notice the Hillbrow police had arrested me at Lady Dudley Hospital compound and they'd informed him that I was constantly trespassing there and hanging out at the back with the Black workers in the compound, you know, playing guitar. That time was actually quite a nasty arrest for me. As a youngster I used to go to the Lady Dudley on a bicycle, and when the police arrested me they thought that I was going to run away, so they tied up my bicycle, and I was really made to feel like a criminal. I was held in the charge office. At other times, some of the police were actually curious. You know, they'd arrest me, they'd kind of intimate that they'd saved me from a very, very dark fate. They were young guys, and they would sit there puzzled as I said, no I'm having a great time, and I'd explain to them how I really enjoyed dancing and learning how to stick fight."
"I wish now that I had asked my father more, but it was a curious fact of my childhood home. My father thought that he had married above his station. My mother came from a Jewish, background, but they had been in England for generations. She came to South Africa when she was six years old. Her father had immigrated here. He had come to search for diamonds, leaving his English wife behind with her mother. Then he sent for her.
My grandmother was pregnant with her first child (not with my mother.) They were living in Roodepoort. At that time you may remember, in the early part of the century, there was this idea of bringing Chinese to South Africa to work on the mines. These people were to live in a compound. Apparently there was some terrible fight and one of the Chinese staggered to the kitchen door about midnight. She heard something at the kitchen door. Now my grandfather was a typical frontiersman. He played poker the whole night. My grandmother was used to being alone. She thought it was her husband knocking on the door. She opened the door and in fell a Chinaman with his throat cut. He promptly bled to death under the kitchen table. So grandma Phoebe Myers left immediately. She took a coach or whatever it was to Cape Town and took a ship home to her mamma in London where she stayed.
My grandfather started another child with her and then returned to Kimberley. My mother was born but didn't see her father until she was six years old. By this time my grandmother had got over the traumatic experience and so she brought her two children back to South Africa. My mother went to Barnato Park school in Johannesburg.
Now my father came from a typical little shtetl. You couldn't get a high school education so when you were about twelve you either learned to be a shoemaker or to mend watches. He mended watches. He had an elder brother who was here already. The reason why they found ease in getting here was that my paternal grandfather, who of course I never met, my father's father, was a clerk in a shipping firm. He was able to get cheap steerage passages for his sons for whom there seemed to be no future at all in the shtetl. The eldest one Marcus, had already been here when my father aged 13, without a word of English, was put on a ship and sent out. He somehow made his way and ended up with a little shop in Springs. From mending watches and selling jewellery he became moderately prosperous. Somehow or other he met my mother.
[She was educated] and was middle class and he was not. He came from a very poor background. She was suffering, I discovered afterwards, of what was known as a broken heart. She had fallen in love with somebody during the war. The 1918 war, and it hadn't worked out. She had been jilted as they said in those days. My father fell in love with her. There were other psychological and physical factors. My mother was much taller than my father. I take after my father, a very tiny person. My mother was quite a tall woman. So there was this inequality, even in height which I think operated there. He always felt timid talking about his background because she always sneered at it. 'Where you came from people slept on the stove to keep warm.' Her whole idea of status was how one lived and how one comported oneself, and what one ate. Her idea of cooking was good English cooking. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. So all the things he had at home he never ever had again.
Its a long way round to telling you my father's background was never discussed. It was indeed despised. My sister and I were brought up to think that these poor things sitting in some village in Russia were not even worth thinking about. Whereas my mother's parents were in South Africa. We loved them. I loved my grandmother and we had all the tales of their life in London. So it was very unequal. As I say I wish I had asked him more.
He wasn't allowed to have any Jewishness. My mother didn't go to the synagogue and we never went. I was never in a synagogue except to go to a wedding. Fortunately we were two girls, so there was never any question of having a bar-mitzvah. For instance, on high days and holidays we would go to pick him up. On the Day of Atonement he would walk to the synagogue and we would then pick him up. We stayed at home then. We went to a convent school. We realised later how embarrassing it must have been for him. Everybody was in their best, just as Christians are on Christmas Day, so Jews have nice clothes for the Day of Atonement, and we would come along in the car with my mother and we would be in shorts and barefoot because we were not part of it at all. We just used it as a holiday and I think it must have been quite humilitating for him. He was totally dominated by her. You don't understand your parents until you get to middle age yourself. I can see a lot of reasons why she made an unfortunate marriage."
Dani's idea...what if a pilot who uses a visual guidance system gets a fly or bee in his helmet, what happens to his missiles...or better still...his plane...when the fly goes up the plane goes up...
The Jeffe Melman - janis Gritzman - Immanuel Suttner saga - never tangle with your dentist, or the lies I had to tell...
If local councils passed laws that pet fish had to wear little speedo costiumes (to help stimulate the local clothing industry)
The role of the bottle in Australia
They're on the bottle
After the caucus they were all on the bottle
a fair shake of the source bottle
a bottle neck in service delivery
The cost of keeping your word and doing your duty...what if a story makes clear the disastrous consequences of these...inverts received wisdom
what if fishing was treated like smoking, or drug use, or wife beating
what if eating meat and taking plastic bags and caged eggs were all illicit activities that have been driven underground...
you lucky fish
landscapes were more literally shaped by their occupants ( I won't say occupiers)...so an Islamic landscape, a Jewish landscape, a Hindu landscape, a Russian landscape, a men's movement landscape, a neo-con's landscape, a liberal landscape etc etc...kapish?
the galaxies are my cells and the stars are my atoms (then what do the atoms of the stars become, and what is the earth upon which my universe-body stands?)
What if wills were read out as if they were Oscars?
What if infomercials were delivered as if they were academic papers and academic papers were written as if they were infomercials...
What if the ad agencies that come up with the names of medicines did cars, and vice a versa. So 4.5 litre muscle cars would be viagra, the latest model would be latecummer, fuelaway for a frugal hybrid, etc
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Rabeynu shel Olam - Hebrew: "Lord of the world"
Ad?nai hu Elokim - Hebrew: "the G?d of mercy is the G?d of justice" - ie both the stuff we like and the stuff we don't like - what most people refer to as "good" and "bad" - comes from the same source, and when we cease to separate and split, our problems end too
Eyn Ani, Eyn Ani, Eyn Ani - Hebrew: "There is no I, there is no I, there is no I." (Song by Israeli band Shotei Hanevua (The Fools of Prophecy) - If you want to hear this fantastic song ...
Also check out Shotei Hanevua members singing with Mosh Ben Ari and rapper Muki at a Yam haMelach (Dead Sea) music festival - Jah is One.
Try these amantras out out and see how they keep your legs pounding
Thursday, July 2, 2009
"Suttner writes about the loves and longings of ordinary billionaires, geniuses, martians, in simple terms that the average body builder can understand. This is not an elite poetry aimed only at those with a flair for 19 languages or for those who can read the Odyssey in the original Greek - no this is poetry that can be enjoyed by anyone with OC or borderline personality disorder, and should be. "
"Suttners work is alternatively loveable, eccentric and revolting."