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robertogreco : davidhockney   11

Poética del lápiz, del papel y de las contradicciones | CCCB LAB
"Reflexiones de un escritor que transita entre el medio analógico y el digital, entre lo material y lo virtual."



"Aprendimos a leer en libros de papel y nuestros recuerdos yacen en fotos ampliadas a partir de un negativo. Actualmente vivimos en un entorno digital repleto de promesas y ventajas, y aun así parece que nuestro cerebro reclama dosis periódicas de tacto, artesanía y materia. El escritor Jorge Carrión reflexiona sobre este tránsito contradictorio entre un medio y otro: desde la firma de un libro garabateado o las lecturas repletas de anotaciones, hasta la necesidad de esbozar ideas con un bolígrafo o dibujar para observar y comprender, pasando por el móvil usado para tomar notas o fotografiar citas.

Hoy, en un avión que, a pesar de ser low cost, atraviesa el océano, leo estos versos en un librito extraordinario: «Escribo a mano con un lápiz Mongol Nº 2 mal afilado, / apoyando hojas de papel sobre mis rodillas. / Ésa es mi poética: escribir con lápiz es mi poética. / […] Lo del lápiz mal afilado es indispensable para mi poética. / Sólo así quedan marcas en las hojas de papel / una vez que las letras se borran y las palabras ya no / se entienden o han pasado de moda o cualquier otra cosa.»

Ayer, minutos antes de que empezara la conferencia que tenía que dar en Buenos Aires, una anciana se me acercó para que le dedicara su ejemplar de Librerías. Lo tenía lleno de párrafos subrayados y de esquinas de página dobladas («cada librería condensa el mundo», yo siempre pensé lo mismo, sí, señor), de tarjetas de visita y de fotografías de librerías («este folleto de Acqua Alta es de cuando estuve en Venecia, un viaje muy lindo»), de recortes de diario («mire, la nota de Clarín que habla del fallecimiento de Natu Poblet, qué tristeza») y hasta de cartas («ésta se la escribí a usted cuando terminé su libro y de pronto me quedé otra vez sola»). No es mi libro, le respondí, usted se lo ha apropiado: es totalmente suyo, le pertenece. De perfil el volumen parecía la maleta de cartón de un emigrante o los estratos geológicos de un acantilado. O un mapa impreso en 3D del rostro de la anciana.

La semana pasada, en mi casa, leí este pasaje luminoso de Una historia de las imágenes, un librazo extraordinario de David Hockney y Martin Gayford publicado por Siruela:

En una fotografía el tiempo es el mismo en cada porción de su superficie. No así en la pintura: ni siquiera es así en una pintura hecha a partir de una foto. Es una diferencia considerable. Por eso no podemos mirar una foto mucho tiempo. Al final no es más que una fracción de segundo, no vemos al sujeto en capas. El retrato que me hizo Lucian Freud requirió ciento veinte horas de posado, y todo ese tiempo lo veo en capas en el cuadro. Por eso tiene un interés infinitamente superior al de una foto.

Hace unos meses, en el AVE que une Barcelona con Madrid, leí un artículo sobre una tendencia incipiente: ya son varios los museos del mundo que prohíben hacer fotografías durante la visita; a cambio te regalan un lápiz y papel, para que dibujes las obras que más te interesen, para que en el proceso de la observación y de la reproducción, necesariamente lento, mires y pienses y digieras tanto con los ojos como con las manos.

Vivimos en entornos absolutamente digitales. Producimos, escribimos, creamos en teclados y pantallas. Pero al principio y al final del proceso creativo casi siempre hay un esquema, unas notas, un dibujo: un lápiz o un bolígrafo o un rotulador que se desliza sobre pósits o sobre hojas de papel. Como si en un extremo y en otro de lo digital siempre hubiera una fase predigital. Y como si nuestro cerebro, en un nuevo mundo que –como explica afiladamente Éric Sadin en La humanidad aumentada– ya se ha duplicado algorítmicamente, nos reclamara dosis periódicas de tacto y artesanía y materia (infusiones de coca para combatir el mal de altura).

Hace dos años y medio, tras mi última mudanza, pasé un rato hojeando el álbum de fotos de mi infancia. Aquellas imágenes envejecidas y palpables no sólo documentan mi vida o la moda o las costumbres de los años setenta y ochenta en España, también hablan de la evolución de la fotografía doméstica y de los procesos de revelado. Tal vez cada foto sea solamente un instante (un instante sin una segunda oportunidad, sin edición, sin filtros, sin anestesia), pero las páginas de cartulina, las anotaciones manuscritas en rotulador negro o en boli Bic azul, los cambios de cámara o las impresiones en brillo o en mate crean un conjunto (un libro) en el que la dimensión material del tiempo se puede reconstruir y tocar, elocuente o balbuciente, nítida o desdibujada, como en un yacimiento arqueológico. O como en un mapa impreso en 3D de mi futuro envejecimiento.

Hoy, ahora, acabo de leer este librito extraordinario, el poemario Apolo Cupisnique, de Mario Montalbetti, que han coeditado en Argentina Añosluz y Paracaídas. Y lo cierro, con versos subrayados, páginas con la esquina doblada, la entrada de un par de museos porteños y un lápiz de Ikea que probablemente también se quede ahí, para siempre secuestrado. Y en el avión low cost empiezo a escribir este texto gracias a mi teléfono móvil, porque no soy (no somos) más que un sinfín de contradicciones. La cita de Montalbetti la copio directamente del libro, pero para la de Hockney tengo que recurrir a la foto que hice de esa doble página la semana pasada. A la izquierda el texto, a la derecha el retrato que le hizo Freud. La foto del retrato. Se pueden ver, en efecto, las capas dinámicas que dejaron en la pintura las ciento veinte horas inmóviles. Con el dedo índice y el pulgar amplío sus ojos y durante un rato –en la noche que se disuelve en jet lag– nuestras miradas se encuentran en la pantalla sin estratos."
jorgecarrión  digital  writing  print  virtual  material  2018  art  poetry  apolocupisnique  mariomontalbetti  añosluz  paracaídas  paper  books  ebooks  éricsadin  algorithms  davidhockney  martingayford  natupoblet 
may 2018 by robertogreco
Austin Kleon — John Holt, How Children Learn Children do not...
"After I re-read that section, I was reminded of Laurence Weschler writing about David Hockney, and how “interest-ing” for Hockney is a verb: it is the continual projection of interest. (The more you look at something, the more interesting it gets.) This was certainly the case with me after I started reading this book, and Holt in general: I, who felt like a somewhat enlightened parent, started noting all the ways I wasn’t paying attention to them, and over time, they have become more interesting to me, not because I’m doting on them more, or even spending more time with them, but because I am looking at them like little scientists, or just little people, who are worthy of interest. (It sounds so stupid: of course a parent should find their kids interesting, but think about how many parents and teachers and adults you know — maybe including yourself — who, secretly, probably don’t.)

Holt’s work has really shaken me up, blown my mind, and given me a different way of thinking about my kids. Some of my favorite bits, below."
johnholt  howchildrenlearn  education  learning  children  trust  austinkleon  lawrencewescheler  davidhockney  art  interestedness  interested  interesting  attention  payingattention  noticing  parenting  teaching  howweteach  howwelearn  librarians  teachers  purpose  belonging  work  community  conversation  cv  pacing  meaningmaking  unschooling  deschooling  departmentalization  interdisciplinary  multidisciplinary  crossdisciplinary  crosspollination  control  independence  anxiety  howchildrenfail  testing  assessment  reggioemilia  punk  games  play  standardizedtesting  love  2016  listening 
july 2016 by robertogreco
The Web’s Grain by Frank Chimero
"We’re building edgeless environments of divergency. Things are added in chaos, then if successful, they expanded further and further out until they collapse and rearrange. This is probably why responsive design feels so relevant, maddening, and divisive: its patterns mimic the larger patterns of technology itself.

What we build is defined and controlled by its unresolvable conflicts. In responsive design, it’s the text and image conundrum I showed earlier. In other, more grand arenas, there is capital versus labor, or collective control versus anarchic individualism. In technology, I believe it comes down to the power dynamics of convenience. To create convenience—particularly the automated convenience technology trades in—someone else must make our choices for us.

In other words: the less you have to do, the less say you have.

Up to a point, swapping autonomy for ease is a pretty good trade: who wants run the math on their accounting books or call the restaurant to place a delivery order? But if taken too far, convenience becomes a Trojan Horse. We secede too much control and become dependent on something we can no longer steer. Platforms that promised to bring convenience to a process or intimacy to a relationship now wedge themselves into the transaction as new middlemen. Then, we’re left to trust in the benevolence of those who have the power to mold our dependencies. Citing a lot of the concerns I mentioned earlier, those people are less responsible and compassionate than we had hoped. In pursuit of convenience, we have opened the door to unscrupulous influence.

You could say that our current technological arrangement has spread out too far, and it is starting to look and feel wrong. Fortunately, we can treat this over-expansion just like everything else I’ve mentioned. We can draw a line, and create a point of reassembly for what we’ve made. We can think about how to shift, move, and resize the pieces so that they fall back in line with our intentions. This power is compounded for those of us who make this technology.

But this is not a technological response. It is an explicit act of will—an individual’s choice to change their behaviors about what to use, where to work, what to adopt, what to pay attention to. It is simple mindfulness, that thing which needy technology makes so hard to practice. And it starts with a question: what is technology’s role in your life? And what, really, do you want from it?

As for me? I won’t ask for peace, quiet, ease, magic or any other token that technology can’t provide—I’ve abandoned those empty promises. My wish is simple: I desire a technology of grace, one that lives well within its role.

How will we know that we’re there? I suppose we’ll look at what we’ve built, notice how the edges have dropped away, and actually be pleased it looks like it could go on forever."
frankchimero  davidhockney  joinery  web  webdev  internet  responsive  responsivedesign  design  technology  grace  clarity  simplicity  complexity  dependencies  edges  purpose  adaptability  divergency  thisandthat  convenience  autonomy  control  influence  responsivewebdesign  webdesign 
march 2015 by robertogreco
How the iPhone and iPad transformed the art of David Hockney - Los Angeles Times
"He also loved the mobility. When the iPhone, with its brushes app, was released, Hockney was enthusiastic, making sketches with his thumbs. But when the iPad came out, with its larger screen, he got one right away.

It was bigger, but it still fit into the pockets he had sown into his jackets for his sketchbook. And now, when he traveled out doors and was inpired to make a sketch, he no longer needed to lug around boxes of drawing pencils and paints."

[See also this quote from Austin Kleon's Steal Like An Artist: 10 Things Nobody Told You About Being Creative:

"Artist David Hockney had all the inside pockets of his suit jackets tailored to fit a sketchbook. The musician Arthur Russell liked to wear shirts with two front pockets so he could fill them with scraps of score sheets."

That quote comes via https://www.flickr.com/photos/russelldavies/16601707876/ ]
davidhockney  2013  ipad  iphone  pockets  alterations  clothing  arthurrussell  preparedness  glvo  pesonaluniforms  urbanspacesuit  accessibility  access  tools  toolkits  portability  mobility  uniforms 
march 2015 by robertogreco
The Syllabi: Researching Synesthesia
"The cause of synesthesia is still subject to research, but it’s generally believed to be the result of a genetic mutation on the X chromosome, explaining its dominance in woman and high heritability. Some researchers think its heritability could suggest an evolutionary benefit. Sickle cell anemia, for example, can be deadly, but also provides malaria immunity. Does synesthesia provide a similar benefit?

It might if you’re a mathmetician or an artist. One of the peculiarities of some forms of synesthesia is that equations are visualised in 3D space, which might help someone like physicist Richard Feynmann, another famous synesthete, with his work. David Hockney, also a synesthete, once told Robert Burton that when he was designing a piece of art intended to accompany a production of a Maurice Ravel piece, he listened to the relevant section of the score and “the tree painted itself.” It’s also been suggested that savants like Daniel Tammett get their incredible skills from…"
vladimirnabokov  danieltammett  davidhockney  vsramachandran  davideagleman  neuroscience  synesthesia  2012  richardfeynman 
february 2012 by robertogreco
Swimming with the stars - Five-Minute Museum - Salon.com
"When I started thinking about it … I realized that in many ways, in the post-war period, Southern California was the ideal of what the American dream was going to look like. At the center of that was the swimming pool, and suburban expansion, and the concept of everybody living in this place that didn’t have the danger of nature, but had all the benefits of the natural landscape. A place that was away from the city, but at the same time felt domesticated. I started thinking about the pool as the central icon of that both real and imaginary place. And it grew from there."
daniellcornell  cindysherman  highculture  popularculture  backyards  suburbia  suburbs  hollywood  nature  design  architecture  art  palmspringsartmuseum  barbarakruger  davidhockney  pacificstandardtime  photography  2012  southerncalifornia  socal  california  swimmingpools 
february 2012 by robertogreco
Subtraction.com: What’s Old Is New Again on iPad
"theiPad is something entirely new, & that it should be treated as such. But it’s worth noting that the current prevailing perception of the iPad seems to be that it is a digital reinvention of analog conventions… newspapers, magazines, books, & subscriptions…why an exhibition of essentially analog paintings rendered through digital means draws interest at all from art lovers & writers.

…this is a misconception…underserves the potential of the device…[but] there’s a power to this particular understanding of the device. Perhaps emphasizing its familiarity is part of what will earn it mass adoption, setting stage for more informed uses. If this is a transitional stage, then I hope it doesn’t last too long, because iPad’s potential to remake things like art making is so painfully evident to me. Ultimately, iPad is much more interesting than Hockney’s paintings & artists who truly understand the medium will show us things we can barely even imagine right now."
art  2010  ipad  khoivinh  davidhockney  print  analog  digitalanalog  transitions 
december 2010 by robertogreco
Slide Show: David Hockney's iPhone Passion - The New York Review of Books
"In this audio slide show, Lawrence Weschler, whose piece "David Hockney's iPhone Passion" appears in the Review's October 22, 2009 issue, discusses the new drawings that David Hockney has been making with the Brushes application on his iPhone. In a related podcast, Weschler talks about Hockney's other recent work—including a series of large-scale paintings that will be on view at PaceWildenstein this fall—and his relationship to technology."
iphone  drawing  davidhockney  painting  artists  applications  via:russelldavies  ios 
january 2010 by robertogreco
The Believer - The Paralyzed Cyclops
"I should perhaps myself note, however, the way that curiously, while the two artists have been engaged in entirely different artistic enterprises—undergirded, they would argue, by entirely opposite readings of history—many of Hockney’s and Irwin’s core concerns have come to seem, to me at any rate, almost entirely identical: the emphasis, for instance, on the critique of photography, the countervailing celebration of the human quality of looking and experience, the focus on the centrality of the observer, the vitality of the periphery, the interpenetrations of art and science, the dialogue of immanence. "
lawrenceweschler  robertirwin  davidhockney  art  photography  artists  criticism  california  painting  contemporary  believer 
november 2008 by robertogreco
The Smart Set: Pool Boy - August 26, 2008
"David Hockney understood that light and that tempo. He came to Los Angeles for the light. He came also for the space, the open space just sitting there, waiting for the light to come upon it. It was the solution to a formal problem: Where do you go from Abstract Expressionism?

For Hockney, you go to Southern California. It was all about freedom. The freedom of the space and the light was physical, but it was also painterly. It was freedom from the dead end of Abstract Expressionism. Hockney liked the light partly because it was soft. It wasn't entirely this and it wasn't entirely that. It went well with pastels and the colors to be found around California swimming pools. Nothing against Jackson Pollock, but Hockney didn't care for the brutality of Pollock's attack upon the canvas. He didn't see a future in it."
light  losangeles  sandiego  davidhockney  art  space  landscape  socal  jacksonpollock 
september 2008 by robertogreco

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