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A silent protest in Love Park, downtown Philadelphia orchestrated by performance artists protesting the murder of Michael Brown in Ferguson. The onslaught of passerby’s wanting to take photos with the statue exemplifies the disconnect in American society. Simply frame out the dead body, and it doesn’t exist.
Here are some observations by one of the artists involved in the event:
I don’t know who any of these folks are.
They were tourists I presume.
But I heard most of what everything they said. A few lines in particular stood out. There’s one guy not featured in the photos. His friends were trying to get him to join the picture but he couldn’t take his eyes off the body.
"Something about this doesn’t feel right. I’m going to sit this one out, guys." "Com’on man… he’s already dead."
There were a billion little quips I heard today. Some broke my heart. Some restored my faith in humanity. There was an older white couple who wanted to take a picture under the statue.
The older gentleman: “Why do they have to always have to shove their politics down our throats.” Older woman: “They’re black kids, honey. They don’t have anything better to do.”
One woman even stepped over the body to get her picture. But as luck would have it the wind blew the caution tape and it got tangle around her foot. She had to stop and take the tape off. She still took her photo.
There was a guy who yelled at us… “We need more dead like them. Yay for the white man!”
"One young guy just cried and then gave me a hug and said ‘thank you. It’s nice to know SOMEBODY sees me.’
Crescent over The Temple of Poseidon in Athens, Greece
The Black Earth. (photoshop)
There are many stories about Dhio, nearly every one of them is false.
"Your voice sounds completely different in different languages. It alters your personality somehow. I don’t think people get the same feeling from you. The rhythm changes. Because the rhythm of the language is different, it changes your inner rhythm and that changes how you process everything.
When I hear myself speak French, I look at myself differently. Certain aspects will feel closer to the way I feel or the way I am and others won’t. I like that—to tour different sides of yourself. I often find when looking at people who are comfortable in many languages, they’re more comfortable talking about emotional stuff in a certain language or political stuff in another and that’s really interesting, how people relate to those languages."
Antigone in front of Dead Polynikes, 1865 by Nikiforos Lytras
Anairë and Nerdanel after the Exile of the Noldor, remaining behind… but not alone.
Manipped up from Waterhouse’s Gone, But Not Forgotten and Psyche Entering Cupid’s Garden, and inspired by heartofoshun's remark that Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May reminded her of Nerdanel and Anairë.
The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) dir. Wes Anderson
now and then
A number of years ago, while suffering from a mild case of ‘Scribe’s Fever’ (a form of neurasthenia common among the intelligentsia of that time), I had decided to spend the month of August in the spa town of Nebelsbad below the Alpine Sudetenwaltz — and had taken up rooms in the Grand Budapest — a picturesque, elaborate, and once widely celebrated established. I expect some of you will know it. It was off-season and, by that time, decidedly out-of-fashion; and it had already begun its descent into shabbiness and eventual demolition.
"No matter what people tell you, words and ideas can change the world."
Robin Williams ( July 21st 1951 - August 11th 2014)