Friday, February 26, 2010

Helen Pashgian's Untitled
Working in Light
Pomona College Museum of Art

Helen Pashgian "works material in such a way that it hints at immateriality. This new work definitely does this. Does she spiritualize the material world or materialize the spiritual? I suppose the latter. But, in this object lesson of hers, a unique truth does emerge. A resonance not found in ordinary physical objects comes forth that bridges the material and the immaterial, the visible and the invisible. And allows a supra-formal reality to be perceived."
-James Turrell

I found that this particular work resonated with me more than a lot of the other works in our art museum, seeing as I had just endured a discussion on the constitution of light and shadows. Is a shadow an object? Most people would say no, it is merely an illusion. But a shadow is quantifiable. I can point to it, manipulate it, create and destroy it. It is a remnant of light - a part of a gradient in which some brightness still exists. Seeing as light exhibits wave-particle duality, it is in fact made up of photons. Therefore, light can be said to be an object, as minuscule as its comprising matter may be.
But then, can a shadow be called an object when it cannot exist on its own? After all, you cannot show me a shadow. It is always a shadow of something else. Is the shape of a shadow but a quality of the light in that specific space, thus taking away a shadow's own qualities as its own object?

So as I walked between the pillars of color, light diffused through the acrylic so as to create soft, dreamy beams of light, I could help but to be entranced by the shadows lurking in the dark spaces of the exhibit. My brain spun, my eyes struggling to find something substantial in the madness of my situation... but all I could do was stare.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Pointless Nostalgia


As I look at this picture, I realize just how desperately I want to step into a dojo and smack someone in the head. Especially with nationals coming up, I fear that I'm getting soft. Hell, I'm losing calluses. My feet are no longer as hardened as disgusting as they once were, and this makes me sad.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Photo dump

Some random moments from my days here at Pomona College.

Piano Man
I meandered into Walker Lounge when I had the luck of catching Sam Holtenhoff practicing on the piano. He played me a bit of Yann Tiersen's "Comptine D'un Autre Été, L'après-Midi," which I far from minded listening to.
It's these little moments that make me sincerely happy to be here.

sit and think
I watched this man as I was taking pictures of Edwidge Danticat, who was explaining
the plight of her people. She also brought up the good point that contemporary works on Haiti
instantly became historical after the earthquake destroyed much of Port au Prince.
Suddenly, the restaurant written about in someone's novel is a thing of the past,
and exists only in photographs and memories. It can truly be said that nothing lasts.
But anyways, she deserves an entire post of her own. I was however, incredibly
intrigued by this man. I felt like he would have lots of interesting stories to tell...

Gray Davis
On February 16th, former Governor of California Gray Davis came to Pomona to speak
about problems in this state. She question raised was "is California simply ungovernable?"
It was interesting to hear him speak as he was no longer bound by his constituents to say merely
the "right" things. He could truly speak his mind and think nothing of it.

Red Velvet Cake
And simply because I haven't posted a food picture in a while, here you go. Red Velvet Cake.
It was an interesting accompaniment to the opening ceremony of the Winter Olympics, and quite moist.

I'm amused and annoyed by how this post has no common thread, consistency, or anything of the sort.
But then, I suppose that's why I named it "photo dump."

Friday, February 5, 2010

Chapter V - Advice from a Caterpillar

The Caterpillar and Alice looked at each other for some time in silence: at last the Caterpillar took the hookah out of its mouth, and addressed her in a languid, sleepy voice.

"Who are you?" said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, "I-I hardly know, Sir, just at present-at least I know I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have changed several times since then."

"What do you mean by that?" said the Caterpillar, sternly. "Explain yourself!"
"I ca'n't explain myself, I'm afraid, Sir," said Alice, "because I'm not myself, you see."