words in black
I was out for a walk when I saw crows harass and finally flush a redtail out of their nest. Then they abandoned the nest and were quiet. The hawk up- and down-drafted on the current. Had it eaten? Hard to say, as it continued surveilling. Inside we kept having to provide more (and more) information for a loan. The presidents worker ants phoned asking us to make three more calls encouraging our reps to support the budget proposal. I did so. The world touches. Strangely. More and more strangely. Strangely, more. People ask me why Im writing a blog and I say because we have no idea what is happening. Paper is imploding into a depth volcano. Every day brings news of a new collapse in print. Western Interiors purchased by Luxe. The Rocky Mountain News journalists seeking 50k people to pledge $4.99 a month to support their blog. On and on. As Victor Hugo observed that the book destroyed the building, will the daily flux of collapsing media entities now take down the print edifice entirely? And then, what will it all appear to have meaned? How precisely will we re-consider our piles of papers and what they contained, excepting the occasional need to fold hats or gift-wrap? And what will this change imply in turn for the life of objects, which media touch both as interpreters and value-adders? Remember this. The word “aura” denoting a very special quality to an art object was installed by Walter Benjamin in 1936 and reshaped by Benjamin Buchloh 50 years later. Buchloh reinterpreted aura as a fiction (and art objects too) of the class system. (I cant resist reminding that it was Steve Wynn, legally blind, who while showing a cadre of his powerful friends his Picasso, put his own pointy elbow through the $200 million surface.) Cycles of history last longer than a day but perhaps what can be said temporarily is that old saw about todays truth, tomorrows fiction. Witness Madoffs jail cell pictured on HuffPo, or the bags under Baracks eyes as he laces up gloves to deal with AIG. But what will happen to our real need for journalism and analysis amid buzz, innuendo, and the newest fiction that equates being current with being astute. The news of Natasha Richardsons untimely death saddens me. What is transformation, even as were having to embody it? Cry me a river. Pass the coffee. Keep working.