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Art & Music Globals

Art & Music
Post-Structuring the World
Bonaventure Hotel
Postmodernism and the Bonaventure Hotel
I’ve just stayed for two nights in the Westin-branded Bonaventure hotel in downtown Los Angeles. I was keen to stay there and explore the hotel because it’s something of an icon in architecture and also a building that evokes strong reactions in people.
Some of the hotel’s history is recorded at Wikipedia. The Bonaventure is a bit of a star in the city of stars. It has appeared in loads of movies and TV series since construction was finished in 1976.
I was fascinated by this hotel because it features in the work of Marxist cultural theorist Fredric Jameson and has been something of a touchstone for postmodern cultural theorists ever since, such as Jason Berger, who re-examined some of Jameson’s argument that the cultural logic of postmodernism reinforces the hold of capitalism on the popular consciousness:
Using a reinterpretation of Jameson’s own work, I will argue that his analysis of the hyperspace within the Bonaventure Hotel in his original 1988 essay provides evidence that postmodernism does create a resistance to late capitalism through spatial “deterritorialization.”[Berger 2004]
I’ve never really agreed with this idea. To me postmodernism is a capitulation to capitalist relations of production and a celebration of crass, kitsche consumerism as the new revolution.
So is the Bonaventure a celebration of capitalism, or does the building condemn consumerism?
Writing in New Left Review in 1985, Mike Davis (author of the fantastic Planet of Slums) gave this summary of Fredric Jameson’s seminal essay, “The cultural logic of late capitalism”:
according to Jameson, the ‘new world space of multinational capital’ finds its ‘impossible’ representation in the mirror-glass and steel ‘hyperspaces’ of the Los Angeles Bonaventure Hotel and other contemporary urban megastructures.
From a distance, and looking up, the Bonaventure building resembles a truncated spaceship. A series of cylindrical towers around a central core cylinder. For all money it looks like a Saturn V booster rocket array on the launch pad. This image is enhanced by the hotel’s external glass elevators. They appear like the infrastructure of the gantry; lifting astronaut-guests up into the darkened recesses of the residential towers.
Bonaventure hotel - Saturn V booster array
I’ve no idea what the Los Angeles cityscape looked like before the Bonaventure was built in the late 1970s; but now it does not appear out of place on the skyline. It is almost indistinguishable from the office towers that surround it.  The building does invoke the arguments that Jameson made about it-it tends to keep out the world, to be almost a world within itself. There are around five acres of shopping space, but when I wandered around there yesterday (Tuesday LA time), it was deserted. The shops were all selling crap souveniers and expensive luxury items. There was a huge contrast between one store selling reduced-price luggage and others with pricey jewellery.
In the luggage store I was offered a suitcase, original price $150 for $39.95 and a $35 travel wallet for $6.50. The store was managed by an old Chinese guy, it was not what you’d expect in a luxury hotel complex. I get the feeling that his lease is up and he’s moving out. On the lower level of the shopping arcade there are more upscale stores selling expensive luxe goods and jewellery. On the whole though, the shopping arcade was not very attractive. Perhaps that is the cultural logic of late capitalism. If you’re not buying luxe, bugger off.
Jameson noticed a similar feeling of disorientation in the shopping galleries, but one major difference today is that there is now access to the lobby from outside. When the building first opened, the main entrance was on South Figueroa and to get to the lobby, guests had to go down an escalator. Now there’s an entrance on Flower street that allows same-level access to the lobby.
There is actually a surprising amount of airspace between the LA towers. Much more than I remember in Sydney. The wide boulevardes and open areas between skyscrapers lets plenty of light down on to the streets. Inside the hotel it’s a different story.
Bonaventure atrium
The interior is deliberately dark and moody. Reds dominate the lobby; relieved a little by the bright blue fountains and pools that snake around the circular core of the building.
Lobby water feature and famous lifts
From street level and up close the building has no redeeming features. There is only unrelenting formed concrete, jutting in angular profusion over the frontages on Sth Figueroa, Flower street and the cross streets (4th and 5th)
Bonaventure - a defensible fortress of pleasure?
Significantly this fortress feel continues inside. There are battlements overlooking the lobby from three floors up, they’re almost ramparts where boiling oil could be poured down onto invading rabble. they actually contain those hideous “nautilus”-style exercise machines. This takes the whole ‘seen to be seen” mentality of this transparent city to it’s illogical logical postmodern conclusion. I didn’t see anyone using them while I was there.
Lifestyle defence post, Bonaventure hotel, Sept 8 2008
And, given the location of the Bonaventure, in the heart of the City (cap intended), the rabble may, one day, come callining uninvited and unwelcome. As Jason Berger explains, when it was built, the Bonaventure was seen by Jameson as a reflection of the connection between money, capital and new forms of postmodern leisure for the grasping rich:
We see, then, that because of its economic function within the city that the Bonaventure Hotel is a normal element of the whole. It is designed to fit into the physical and economic landscape of the city, yet when you enter, it constructs its own “new” world. This new world, however, is not intended to contrast with the outside city as Disneyland is; it, instead, is designed to replace it — to become the outside world.
Berger argues that the disruptions caused to the shopkeepers who have to deal with the irrational interior spaces of the Bonaventure lends weight to the suggestion that postmodernism as a cultural logic contains within it an oppositional trope;
The Bonaventure Hotel, therefore, provides an apt example of the resistance to late capitalism that is embedded within postmodernism. It is, as we have seen, the Bonaventure’s spatial manifestation of this postmodern expression that allows us to see its deterritorialization and the subsequent dilemma it poses to stores and, hence, capitalism. It is, however, capitalism’s response to this threat — essentially a re-signification of deterritorialization — that tends to mask the self-subverting elements of late capitalism.
I don’t think this is quite right. There is no real resistance to capitalism any where within five miles of the Bonaventure hotel. Resistance doesn’t really begin until you get to places like Hollywood and Vine. Even there the resistance is visceral rather than intellectual. Of course on the southside of the city there is real resistance to capitalism as there is in other parts of the USA. There resistance is provided by people who would not normally be admitted to the Bonaventure, except as domestic or wait staff. A city like Los Angeles, for all the whiteness of Hollywood, cannot sustain itself without the labour of it’s vast and diverse underclass.
That is why I mentioned Mike Davis, and City of Slums. If you want to know about resistance to capitalism and it’s relationship to modern architecture, don’t venture down to the Bonaventure, look at the teeming and desolate places on the planet that Davis invokes.
I’ll leave the final word to Fredric Jameson, he’s absolutely right about this:
Bonaventure ought not to have any entrances at all, since the entryway is always the seam that links the building to the rest of the city: for it does not wish to be part of the city…
Sydney Opera House
Sydney Opera House (1957 - 1973) is a masterpiece of late modern architecture. It is admired internationally and proudly treasured by the people of Australia. It was created by a young architect who understood and recognised the potential provided by the site against the stunning backdrop of Sydney Harbour. Denmark’s Jørn Utzon gave Australia a challenging, graceful piece of urban sculpture in patterned tiles, glistening in the sunlight and invitingly aglow at night. Jorn Utzon died in Copenhagen in November 2008 aged 90.
In its short lifetime, Sydney Opera House has earned a reputation as a world-class performing arts centre and become a symbol of both Sydney and the Australian nation. 
World Heritage Listed
Sydney Opera House was inscribed in the World Heritage List in June 2007: “Sydney Opera House is a great architectural work of the 20th century. It represents multiple strands of creativity, both in architectural form and structural design, a great urban sculpture carefully set in a remarkable waterscape and a world famous iconic building.” UNESCO

The expert evaluation report to the World Heritage Committee stated: “…it stands by itself as one of the indisputable masterpieces of human creativity, not only in the 20th century but in the history of humankind.”
Design/Structure
The distinctive roof comprises sets of interlocking vaulted ‘shells’ set upon a vast terraced platform and surrounded by terrace areas that function as pedestrian concourses.

The two main halls are arranged side by side, with their long axes, slightly inclined from each other, generally running north-south. The auditoria face south, away from the harbour with the stages located between the audience and the city. The Forecourt is a vast open space from which people ascend the stairs to the podium. The Monumental Steps, which lead up from the Forecourt to the two main performance venues, are a great ceremonial stairway nearly 100 metres wide.
The vaulted roof shells were designed by Utzon in collaboration with internationally renowned engineers Ove Arup & Partners with the final shape of the shells derived from the surface of a single imagined sphere. Each shell is composed of pre-cast rib segments radiating from a concrete pedestal and rising to a ridge beam. The shells are faced in glazed off-white tiles while the podium is clad in earth-toned, reconstituted granite panels. The glass walls are a special feature of the building, constructed according to the modified design by Utzon’s successor architect, Peter Hall. 
History of the Design
The history surrounding the design and construction of the building became as controversial as its design. In 1956 the NSW Government called an open-ended international design competition and appointed an independent jury. The competition brief provided broad specifications to attract the best design talent in the world; it did not specify design parameters or set a cost limit. The main requirement of the competition brief was a design for two performance halls, one for opera and one for symphony concerts. Reputedly rescued from a pile of discarded submissions, Jørn Utzon’s winning entry created great community interest and the NSW Government’s decision to commission Utzon as the sole architect was unexpected, bold and visionary. 
Construction
Design and construction were closely intertwined. Utzon’s radical approach to the construction of the building fostered an exceptional collaborative and innovative environment. The design solution and construction of the shell structure took eight years to complete and the development of the special ceramic tiles for the shells took over three years. The project was not helped by the changes to the brief. Construction of the shells was one of the most difficult engineering tasks ever to be attempted. The revolutionnary concept demanded equally revolutionary engineering and building techniques. Baulderstone Hornibrook (then Hornibrook Group) constructed the roof shells and the interior structure and fitout. At the behest of the Australian Broadcasting Commission (ABC) the NSW Government changed the proposed larger opera hall into the concert hall because at the time, symphony concerts, managed by the ABC, were more popular and drew larger audiences than opera. 
Completion and Opening
Cost overruns contributed to populist criticism and a change of government resulted in 1966 to Utzon’s resignation, street demonstrations and professional controversy. Peter Hall supported by Lionel Todd and David Littlemore in conjunction with the then NSW Government Architect, Ted Farmer completed the glass walls and interiors including adding three previously unplanned venues underneath the Concert Hall on the western side.  Opened by Queen Elizabeth II in 1973, new works were undertaken between 1986 and 1988 to the land approach and Forecourt under the supervision of the then NSW Government Architect, Andrew Andersons, with contributions by Peter Hall. 
For the future
In 1999, Jørn Utzon was re-engaged as Sydney Opera House architect to develop a set of design principles to act as a guide for all future changes to the building. These principles reflect his original vision and help to ensure that the building’s architectural integrity is maintained.
Utzon Room
Utzon's first major project was the refurbishment of the Reception Hall into a stunning, light filled space which highlights the original concrete 'beams' and a wall-length tapestry designed by him which hangs opposite the harbour outlook. Noted for its excellent acoustics, it is the only authentic Utzon-designed space at Sydney Opera House and was renamed the Utzon Room in his honour in 2004.
Modern AlterationsThis project was followed by the first alteration to the exterior of the building with the addition of a new Colonnade along the western side, which shades nine new large glass openings into the previously solid exterior wall. This Utzon-led project, which was completed in 2006, gave the theatre foyers their first view of Sydney Harbour. The foyers' interiors are now being renovated to Utzon's specifications, to become a coherent attractive space for patrons. The design also incorporates the first public lift and interior escalators to assist less mobile patrons.
Utzon was working on designs to renovate the ageing and inadequate Opera Theatre. On all projects, he worked with his architect son Jan, and Sydney-based architect Richard Johnson of Johnson Pilton Walker.
Architecture Prize
In 2003 Utzon received the Pritzker Prize, international architecture's highest honour.
Revealing Archaeology takes you on a journey through the transformations of the Opera House site evidenced by recent archaeological discoveries. These discoveries were made during excavation work for the Opera House’s new underground loading dock.  
A rendered three-dimensional scan of the archaeological remnants is used in the film along with images, paintings, drawings and a newspaper article from 1889 that highlight the significance of this important of the archaeological discovery.
https://operahouseproject.com
Oslo Opera House
Officially opened in April 2008, the Oslo Opera House was designed by the acclaimed Norwegian architectural firm Snøhetta. The opera, which took five years to complete, sits on the bank of the Bjørvika district, near the stock exchange and the central station. It is the largest cultural building to be built in Norway since the construction of the Nidaros Cathedral in Trondheim at the start of the 14th century.
From classics to world premieres of renowned and new Norwegian works, as well as a number of big concerts and one-off performances, the Oslo Opera House aims to bring culture to a wider audience. 
In 2012 around 310 000 people attended one of The Norwegian National Opera & Ballet's performances and concerts. This is the highest number in the history of the institution.The 2014 spring season features 171 performances and 20 new opera and ballet productions will be premiered.
A new landmark for Oslo
Oslo Opera has become a new landmark for the city and proved an instant success with both locals and tourists. In its five years since opening, over 8 million people visited the house. Visitor numbers grew by 20% between 2011 and 2012, and by the end of 2013 the total had passed 10 million visitors. 

From the outside, the most striking feature is the 
white sloping marble roofwhich rises directly up from the Oslofjord, allowing visitors to enjoy a stroll and take in views of the city.

If you see the building from the fjord you will notice a façade of 
solar panels. In fact, this is Norway’s biggest area of solar panels supplying the building with some of the energy its needs.
International prizes and accolades
The opera has also won an array of awards, both at home and abroad, including the prestigious Mies van der Rohe Prize (2009) and the International Architecture Award 2010. It was also named World Cultural Building of the Year in 2008.
"The Oslo opera house is a powerful and beautiful statement, radiant with music and song, one that announces Norway's arrival as a cultural centre. Most of all, it's a building to be shared: anyone who travels to Oslo will want to see, and climb, Snøhetta's marble mountain," wrote Jonathan Glancey in the British newspaper The Guardian just after the building’s inauguration in April 2008.
Meanwhile The Times' Richard Morrison declared: "I am in love. She's Norwegian, gorgeous, full of fun, yet with surprising hidden depths. She's the new Oslo Opera House, an amazing marble and granite vision that rises out of the fjord like a giant ice floe."
Cutting edge architecture and design
The floor area of the base of the building is equivalent to four international standard football fields and measures more than 38,000 square metres. The building boasts three stages and a total of 1,100 rooms.
The foyer is a huge open room with a minimalist décor, using simple materials such as stone, concrete, glass and wood. Here you find seating areas, bars and restaurants.
The main classical horseshoe shaped auditorium, which is one of the most technologically advanced in the world, offers great scenographic flexibility and fantastic acoustics. The stage area measures several thousand square metres and parts of it are as much as 16 metres below the surface of the water.
In contrast to the light foyer, the main auditorium is decorated in ammonia-treated Baltic oak. The seatbacks of the 1,350 seats contain individual screens with subtitles in eight different languages. Boat builders from the northwest coast of Norway have carved the balconies, and hanging from the ceiling is Norway’s largest circular chandelier. It is 7 metres in diameter, weighs 8 tons, has 5,800 crystal glass elements and was produced by the Norwegian firm Hadeland Glassverk.
Backstage tours
Interested in finding out more about the opera? Join a guided tour. Tours are available at weekends, and last for about 50 minutes. They must be booked in advance. 




Prague Dancing House
In August 1990 at the invitation of Vaclav Havel, Czechoslovakia's recently elected playwright-president, the Rolling Stones came to Prague. More than 100,000 Czechs turned out in the rain for this watershed event, a shock of electricity for a nation whose energies had long been suppressed by a dour Communist regime. Promotional posters for the concert read, "The Rolling Stones roll in, the Soviet army rolls out.
Prague's fresh start was at the forefront of his mind when, one month later, a local architect named Vlado Milunić submitted his design for a new art gallery commissioned by President Havel. The gallery was to occupy a prominent location along the Vltava River, on a corner looking up toward Prague Castle, home to Bohemia's rulers for more than a millennium.
"Charged with internal energy, the building is bursting at its seams," Mr. Milunić wrote in his proposal. "The terrace protrudes like the tongue of the Rolling Stones logo stuck out towards…the Castle." His accompanying sketch included a doodle of the iconic tongue in an upper corner of the page.
The architect knew his client. President Havel, the former political prisoner who famously inaugurated his time as the castle's chief resident by riding through it on a scooter, loved the proposal. Mr. Milunić won the commission.
Thus was born the concept for what would become Dancing House, Prague's postmodern masterpiece designed in partnership by Frank Gehry and Mr. Milunić. With Dancing House, Messrs. Gehry and Milunić succeeded in giving architectural form to Czechoslovakia's Velvet Revolution, marking a singular moment of national transition and celebration.
Their unlikely collaboration wouldn't have happened without an act of capitalist intervention. Soon after Mr. Milunić submitted his proposal for a tongue-terraced gallery, the site—vacant ever since U.S. bombs destroyed its Renaissance Revival occupant during World War II—was bought up by Nationale-Nederlanden, the forerunner to Dutch financial-services conglomerate ING Groep NV. Nationale-Nederlanden, of course, had no interest in Messrs. Havel and Milunić's art gallery: The company wanted a big name to design an avant-garde building for its Prague offices, a brash announcement of arrival in the newly opened Eastern Europe.
But Nationale-Nederlanden's representative in Prague, Paul Koch, was friends with Mr. Milunić, and liked his existing plans for the site. Mr. Koch urged his bosses to take a chance on the local architect by pairing Mr. Milunić with a bigger international name. After Jean Nouvel turned them down, in 1992 Messrs. Koch and Milunić approached Mr. Gehry in Geneva, where Mr. Milunić showed off his concept sketches for the building. His plans focused on corner towers in varying states of distress and undress—the aforementioned concept of a tower "bursting at its seams," a tower with a simulacrum of its pants around its ankles, and a tower in the shape of a naked woman ("a Czechoslovak Jeanne d'Arc," Mr. Milunić said). All were meant to channel the creative energy of the Velvet Revolution. Mr. Gehry was convinced. The two architects quickly hit it off as creative collaborators.
The core of their design became Dancing House's yin-yang duo of corner towers: the dancing couple alluded to in the building's name. In the project's early stages, Mr. Gehry referred to the pair as "Fred and Ginger"—Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers—before recoiling out of fear that he would be accused of sullying Prague's landscape with Hollywood kitsch. But evocative as it is, Mr. Gehry's nickname stuck.
Fred, a masculine cylinder of concrete, stretches up and out, simultaneously leading the rest of the building into the abutting intersection and serving as an anchor for Fred's show-stealing partner. The distorted cylinder is topped by a bird's-nest-shaped mesh sculpture named "Medusa."
Ginger, a feminine frame cinched at the waist and wrapped in a billowing glass dress, angles away from Fred in several directions at once, her spindly concrete legs poking through her dress and planting themselves aggressively along the very edge of the street. Dynamic and anthropomorphic, Ginger reflects Mr. Gehry's evolved interpretation of Mr. Milunić's revolutionary female form. This graceful piece of sculpture is also fully functional: The tower plays host to several levels of conference rooms, along with a restaurant and bar on the top two floors that provide expansive views of the Vltava.
Naturally, Fred and Ginger's novel appearance offended local critics of both traditionalist and modernist tastes. Dancing House's naysayers focused their attention on the building's supposedly poor integration with the existing landscape, and lambasted it as the work of an American starchitect with little regard for Prague. One early Czech commenter called the work "a mess of pottage, this time Californian."
Today, this line of criticism seems wildly off the mark. Mr. Milunić spent a great deal of time advising Mr. Gehry on the site's context, and the two delivered a final product that richly pays homage to Prague's architectural leitmotifs. Start with the towers themselves: Prague's older city blocks are almost always bookended by towers of one kind or another, often topped by an ornamental cupola. Mr. Gehry followed the area's prevailing tradition by putting the focus on the corner, and by topping Fred with his decorative "Medusa" sculpture, whose form playfully echoes that of several onion domes sitting atop adjacent corner towers.
Then consider Dancing House's riverfront elevation, which provides an object lesson in the artful integration of a new building with its neighbors. Rightly so, since Mr. Milunić was literally a kid from the block: Both his and Mr. Havel's families had lived in the Secessionist structure next door, built by Mr. Havel's grandfather at the turn of the 20th century.
You have to step across the Jiraskuv Bridge to the Vltava's opposite riverbank and take a panoramic view of Dancing House's environs to appreciate just how well Messrs. Gehry and Milunić captured the spirit of the landscape. Dancing House's wavy stuccowork and pop-out windows elegantly match the window patterns and quoined and scored exteriors of the neighborhood. Viewed in context, Dancing House grows naturally from its surroundings, its movement leading to the corner and to the surprising expression of its jubilant towers.
Perhaps unavoidably, the whimsical atmosphere that inspired Fred and Ginger faded over the years; Mr. Havel's death this past December punctuated the end of an era in Czech and European history. But for a city that has largely moved on, Dancing House stands as a living reminder of a time when an entire nation shook off its inertia and kicked up its heels.
Mr. Dameron, a former Robert L. Bartley Fellow at the Journal, is a Prague-based correspondent for Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty.
Guggenheim Mueseum
Hailed as the most important structure of its time when it opened in 1997, Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim Museum Bilbao has changed the way people think about museums and continues to challenge assumptions about the connections between art, architecture, and collecting.


The Guggenheim Museum Bilbao presents Thread Routes Chapter IIIand III (2010– ), the first 16-mm film series produced by multi-disciplinary conceptual artist Kimsooja (b. 1957, Daegu, Korea). This ongoing project consists of six chapters, each shot in a different part of the world, and together they form a mosaic of common performative elements that unite different textile cultures. This triangular installation created by the artist presents three chapters filmed in Peru, Europe, and India.

The Guggenheim Bilbao’s collection spans from the mid-20th century to the present day, concentrating on postwar painting and sculpture in America and Europe. The collection includes key works by significant artists including Anselm Kiefer, Willem de Kooning, Robert Motherwell, Gilbert & George, and Richard Serra.
 
Well before the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao opened its doors to the public on October 19, 1997, the new museum was making news. The numerous artists, architects, journalists, politicians, filmmakers, and historians that visited the building site in the mere four years of its construction anticipated the success of the venture. Frank Gehry’s limestone, glass, and titanium building was hailed by architect Philip Johnson as “the greatest building of our time” and the pioneering collaboration between the Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation and Basque authorities was seen to challenge assumptions about art museum collecting and programming. 

Located on the Bay of Biscay, Bilbao is the fourth largest city in Spain, one of the country’s most important ports, and a center for manufacturing, shipping, and commerce. In the late 1980s the Basque authorities embarked on an ambitious redevelopment program for the city. By 1991, with new designs for an airport, a subway system, and a footbridge, among other important projects by major international architects such as Norman Foster, Santiago Calatrava, and Arata Isozaki, the city planned to build a first-class cultural facility. In April and May of 1991 at the invitation of the Basque Government and the Diputación Foral de Bizkaia, Thomas Krens, Director of the Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, met repeatedly with officials, signing a preliminary agreement to bring a new Guggenheim Museum to Bilbao.
 

An architectural competition led to the selection of California-based architect Gehry, known for his use of unorthodox materials and inventive forms, and his sensitivity to the urban environment. Gehry’s proposal for the site on the Nervion River ultimately included features that embrace both the identity of the Guggenheim Museum and its new home in the Basque Country. The building’s glass atrium refers to the famous rotunda of Frank Lloyd Wright’s New York Guggenheim, and its largest gallery is traversed by Bilbao’s Puente de La Salve, a vehicular bridge serving as one of the main gateways to the city. In 1992 Juan Ignacio Vidarte, now Director General of the Guggenheim Bilbao, was formally appointed to oversee the development of the project and to supervise the construction. Groundbreaking took place in 1993 and in 1997 a gala dinner and reception, attended by an international audience and Spain’s Queen Sofia and King Juan Carlos I, celebrated the inauguration of the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao.


When it opened in 1997, the Frank Gehry–designed Guggenheim Museum Bilbao—a spectacular structure made of titanium, glass, and limestone—was hailed as the most important building of its time. Located in the Basque city of Bilbao in northern Spain, the museum features exhibitions organized by the Guggenheim Foundation and by the Guggenheim Museum Bilbao, as well as selections from the permanent collection of the Guggenheim Museums.
Artifacts and Artifictions
Puppy, Jeff Konns
Jeff Koons rose to prominence in the mid-1980s as part of a generation of artists who explored the meaning of art in a media-saturated era and the attendant crisis of representation. Drawing on the visual language of advertising, marketing, and the entertainment industry and with the stated intent to "communicate with the masses," Koons tested the boundaries between popular and elite culture. His sculptural menagerie includes Plexiglas-encased Hoover vacuum cleaners, basketballs suspended in glass aquariums, porcelain homages to Michael Jackson and the Pink Panther, and glass depictions of himself coupled with his then-wife Ilona Staller, also known as La Cicciolina (a former adult-film star and member of the Italian parliament). Extending the legacy of Marcel Duchamp's readymades, and integrating references to Minimalism and Pop, Koons presents art as a commodity that cannot be placed within the hierarchy of conventional aesthetics.
With Puppy, Koons engaged both past and present, employing sophisticated computer modeling to create a work that references the 18th-century formal European garden. A behemoth West Highland terrier carpeted in bedding plants,Puppy employs the most saccharine of iconography—flowers and puppies—in a monument to the sentimental. Imposing in scale, its size both tightly contained and seemingly out of control (it is both literally and figuratively still growing), and juxtaposing elite and mass-cultural references (topiary and dog breeding, Chia Pets and Hallmark greeting cards), the work may be read as an allegory of contemporary culture. Koons designed this public sculpture to relentlessly entice, to create optimism, and to instill, in his own words, "confidence and security." Dignified and stalwart as it stands guard at the museum, Puppy fills viewers with awe, and even joy.


The Human Condition (1935), Rene Magritte
The Human Condition (La condition humaine) generally refers to two similar oil on canvas paintings by the Belgiansurrealist René Magritte. One was completed in 1933 and is in the collection of the National Gallery of Art in Washington DC.[1] The other was completed in 1935 and is part of the Simon Spierer Collection in GenevaSwitzerland.[2] A number of drawings of the same name exist as well, including one at the Cleveland Museum of Art.[3]
Relation to other paintings[edit]
One of Magritte's most common artistic devices was the use of objects to hide what lies behind them. For example, in The Son of Man (1964) an apple hides the face of a man wearing a bowler hat, and in The Pleasure Principle (1937) a bright flash likewise obscures a face. In The Human Condition, the cover-up appears in the form a painting within a painting.
Magritte had this to say of his 1933 work:
In front of a window seen from inside a room, I placed a painting representing exactly that portion of the landscape covered by the painting. Thus, the tree in the picture hid the tree behind it, outside the room. For the spectator, it was both inside the room within the painting and outside in the real landscape.[4]
Paintings within paintings appear frequently in Magritte works. Euclidean Walks (1955) is a work perhaps most like The Human Condition. It places a canvas in front of a high window depicting the tower of a close building and a street below. InThe Fair Captive (1947), there is a beach scene with an easel set up. As in the previous cases it holds a canvas depicting what the viewer might expect to be behind it. This time though, flames from a burning tuba in front of the frame are seen "reflected." The Call of the Peaks (1942) shows a mountain canvas in front of a mountain background which is buffeted on the right by a curtain.
The list of similar works can easily be extended to include such paintings as The Key to the Fields (1936), its 1964 reincarnation Evening Falls and the 1942 work The Domain of Arnheim, all of which feature broken windows whose shattered glass pieces on the floor still show the outside world they used to conceal.
Another series of pieces which show both strong similarities and strong differences from The Human Condition are the works titled The Alarm Clock. In these works, a painting is placed on an easel in front of a window or on a balcony with a simple landscape in the background. However, the painting does not show what may possibly be behind, but is instead an upside-down basic fruit still life.


The History of Chinese Painting and the History of modern Western Arrtwashed in the Washing Machine for Two minutes , Huang Yong Ping
HUANG YONG PING
The History of Chinese Painting and the History of Modern Western Art Washed in the Washing Machine for Two Minutes
1987/1993
Chinese tea box, paper pulp, glass
T. B. Walker Acquisition Fund, 2001
ABOUT THE ARTWORK
On December 1, 1987, Chinese artist Huang Yong Ping placed two books into a washing machine
and washed them for two minutes. One book was titled The History of Chinese Art by Wang Bomin
and the other was a Chinese translation of The Concise History of Modern Painting by Herbert Read.
These two tomes were transformed into a pile of unreadable pulp, which the artist dumped onto a
piece of broken glass mounted on an old Chinese tea crate. The original sculpture was accidentally
destroyed a few years later, so he remade it in 1993. The writing on the crate gives the dates and history
of the piece.
For the artist, the decision to put these two specific books in the washing machine is a strategy
for transforming and creating new meanings for both Eastern and Western cultures. Read’s book, like
most Western art history books, categorizes and classifies European and American art into styles,
movements, and “isms” such as Impressionism and Cubism. It follows the tendency for Western historians
and scientists to create a rational order out of facts, events, and philosophies. In contrast, Eastern
philosophies such as Zen or Tao take into account ideas of flux, change, and a balance of rational
and irrational ways of understanding the world. This artwork is not about replacing one tradition with
another; it is about the two overlapping and becoming mixed together after their own structures have
been pulverized.
In this work, Huang uses materials appropriated from sources that resonate with his interest in
both Eastern and Western cultures. His two-minute performance is given up to the chance processes
happening inside the washing machine. The resulting pile of dirty pulp is a metaphor for creation,
destruction, and transformation—strategies he has used repeatedly to question what it means to live
in a global world. When East and West collide, the resulting economic, political, and philosophical
changes make each one more complicated and less pure. Huang describes this as “washing the notion
of culture.”
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Born in 1954 in Xiamen, Fujian province in southeastern China, Huang Yong Ping came of age during
the Cultural Revolution,* a time of great social upheaval. By the late 1970s, however, a number of the
tensions had abated and China began to open up to the rest of the world. Censorship was relaxed and
the Chinese art world gained access to information about contemporary Western art. Huang’s artistic
ideas, formed in the 1980s, derived from his study of modern Western philosophers and artists as well
as from ancient Zen and Taoist philosophies. He pondered the strategies he should employ in order to
blend the old culture with the new and ways that he could find both connections and breaks between
his own culture and that of the West.
By the mid-1980s, Huang had become one of the most radical Chinese artists and a spokesman
for an avant-garde group in Xiamen that explored the ideas of the European Dada movement and
other important critical art tendencies. In 1986, this group held its first public exhibition featuring traditional artworks as well as installation pieces combining various everyday objects. After the exhibition
closed, the group decided to burn all the works in a huge bonfire. Huang drafted their statement, pointing
out that the purpose of burning the artwork was to emphasize that art exists as spiritual process,
not in its materialistic products. During the 1980s, he pioneered a new art that shattered conventional
methods in both Chinese art and Western art.
In 1989 Huang took up residence in Paris. Before this move, he had often used Western art ideas
and methods to counter Chinese “official” art and institutions. Since coming to France, he has tended
to use traditional Eastern ideas and practices to undermine European habits of thinking and cultural
stereotypes. For example, at times he has used chance processes such as spinning a roulette wheel
and consulting the I Ching, the ancient Chinese book of divination and philosophy, to determine how
an artwork should be made. By doing so, he attempts to remove rational thought and the originality of
the individual artist from his work. In other installations and actions, he takes on issues of colonialism,
globalization, and political strain between the West and the rest of the world. Some of his works have
been censored for political reasons in both realms.
THE CULTURAL REVOLUTION
China has a rich cultural and national history dating back almost 4,000 years. In 1949, the People’s
Republic of China established a communist government under Chairman Mao Zedong. By the 1960s
the government had become conservative and bureaucratic, and some felt the revolutionary fervor
was being lost. Over the next 10 years, the Red Guard, mostly young people who were zealous about
the early teachings of Mao, led the great Cultural Revolution by leading demonstrations, creating
upheaval in the educational and economic systems, and arresting those suspected of being disloyal
to the revolution. Relations with the outside world were virtually severed. Countless ancient buildings,
artifacts, antiques, books, and paintings were destroyed by the Red Guard in order to eradicate old
ways of thinking, and the production of art in China was tightly controlled by the socialist realist regime
during this period.
The Physical Impossibility of Death in The Mind of Someone Living, Damien Hirst
The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living is an artwork created in 1991 by Damien Hirst, an English artist and a leading member of the "Young British Artists" (or YBA). It consists of a tiger shark preserved in formaldehyde in a vitrine. It was originally commissioned in 1991 by Charles Saatchi, who sold it in 2004, to Steven A. Cohen for an undisclosed amount, widely reported to have been $8 million. However, the title of Don Thompson's book, The $12 Million Stuffed Shark: The Curious Economics of Contemporary Art, suggests a higher figure.
Owing to deterioration of the original 14-foot (4.3 m) tiger shark, it was replaced with a new specimen in 2006. It was on loan to theMetropolitan Museum of Art in New York City from 2007 to 2010.[1]
It is considered the iconic work of British art in the 1990s,[2] and has become a symbol of Britart worldwide
The work was funded by Charles Saatchi, who in 1991 had offered to pay for whatever artwork Hirst wanted to create. The shark itself cost Hirst £6,000[4] and the total cost of the work was £50,000.[5] The shark was caught off Hervey Bay in Queensland, Australia, by a fisherman commissioned to do so.[4][5] Hirst wanted something "big enough to eat you".[6]
It was first exhibited in 1992 in the first of a series of Young British Artists shows at the Saatchi Gallery, then at its premises in St John's Wood, North London. The British tabloid newspaper The Sun ran a story titled "£50,000 for fish without chips."[7] The show also included Hirst's artwork A Thousand Years. He was then nominated for the Turner Prize, but it was awarded to Grenville Davey. Saatchi sold the work in 2004 toSteven A. Cohen for an estimated $8 million.[7]
Its technical specifications are: "Tiger shark, glass, steel, 5% formaldehyde solution, 213 x 518 x 213 cm."[8]
The New York Times in 2007 gave the following description of the artwork:
"Mr. Hirst often aims to fry the mind (and misses more than he hits), but he does so by setting up direct, often visceral experiences, of which the shark remains the most outstanding.
In keeping with the piece's title, the shark is simultaneously life and death incarnate in a way you don't quite grasp until you see it, suspended and silent, in its tank. It gives the innately demonic urge to live a demonic, deathlike form."[9]


Campbel’s Soup Can, Andy Warhol
Campbell's Soup Cans,[1] which is sometimes referred to as 32 Campbell's Soup Cans,[2] is a work of art produced in 1962 by Andy Warhol. It consists of thirty-two canvases, each measuring 20 inches (51 cm) in height × 16 inches (41 cm) in width and each consisting of a painting of a Campbell's Soup can—one of each of the canned soup varieties the company offered at the time.[1] The individual paintings were produced by a printmaking method—the semi-mechanized screen printing process, using a non-painterly style. Campbell's Soup Cans' reliance on themes from popular culture helped to usher in pop art as a major art movement in the United States.
Warhol, a commercial illustrator who became a successful author, publisher, painter, and film director, showed the work on July 9, 1962, in his first one-man gallery exhibition as a fine artist[3][4] in the Ferus Gallery of Los Angeles, California. The exhibition marked the West Coast debut of pop art.[5] The combination of the semi-mechanized process, the non-painterlystyle, and the commercial subject initially caused offense, as the work's blatantly mundane commercialism represented a direct affront to the technique and philosophy of abstract expressionism[Technically, an important predecessor is surrealism(Surrealism is a cultural movement that began in the early 1920s, and is best known for its visual artworks and writings. The aim was to "resolve the previously contradictory conditions of dream and reality." Artists painted unnerving, illogical scenes with photographic precision, created strange creatures from everyday objects and developed painting techniques that allowed the unconscious to express itself.), with its emphasis on spontaneous, automatic, or subconscious creation. Jackson Pollock's dripping paint onto a canvas laid on the floor is a technique that has its roots in the work of André Masson, Max Ernst, and David Alfaro Siqueiros. Another important early manifestation of what came to be abstract expressionism is the work of American Northwest artist Mark Tobey, especially his "white writing" canvases, which, though generally not large in scale, anticipate the "all-over" look of Pollock's drip paintings.]. In the United States the abstract expressionism art movement was dominant during the post-war period, and it held not only to "fine art" values and aesthetics but also to amystical inclination. This controversy led to a great deal of debate about the merits and ethics of such work. Warhol's motives as an artist were questioned, and they continue to be topical to this day. The large public commotion helped transform Warhol from being an accomplished 1950s commercial illustrator to a notable fine artist, and it helped distinguish him from other rising pop artists. Although commercial demand for his paintings was not immediate, Warhol's association with the subject led to his name becoming synonymous with the Campbell's Soup Can paintings.
Warhol subsequently produced a wide variety of art works depicting Campbell's Soup cans during three distinct phases of his career, and he produced other works using a variety of images from the world of commerce and mass media. Today, the Campbell's Soup cans theme is generally used in reference to the original set of paintings as well as the later Warhol drawings and paintings depicting Campbell's Soup cans. Because of the eventual popularity of the entire series of similarly themed works, Warhol's reputation grew to the point where he was not only the most-renowned American pop art artist,[6] but also the highest-priced living American artist.[7]


Artist’s Studio Look, Roy Lichtenstein
"It was hard to get a painting that was despicable enough so that no one would hang it--everybody was hanging everything. It was almost acceptable to hang a dripping paint rag, everybody was accustomed to this. The one thing everyone hated was commercial art; apparently they didn't hate that enough, either."--Roy Lichtenstein, 1963
Roy Lichtenstein began producing Pop Art paintings--based on the imagery of consumerism and popular culture--in the early 1960s, and he is most often associated with paintings and prints based on comic strips. When once asked how he selected his images, the artist explained, "I go through comic books looking for material which seems to hold possibilities for painting, both in its visual impact and the impact of its written message. I try to take messages which are kind of universal . . . completely meaningless or so involved that they become ludicrous."
Although not based on an actual comic-book image, Artist's Studio No. 1 (Look Mickey) is stylistically similar to Lichtenstein's cartoon translations. Following a centuries-old tradition in Western art in which artists use their own studios as subject matter, he depicts his artistic environment and acknowledges his accomplishment as an artist by including examples of his pioneering works such as Look Mickey (1961) andCouch (1961). However, unlike other more traditional representations of artists' studios, Lichtenstein satirizes his own work by painting the space in the impersonal comic-strip style that made him famous.
Darth Vader, Tommervik
Once the much-maligned painting style of Absinthe-fuelled bohemians, Cubism has been given new life by American artist Tommervik.
The muted tones, strong lines and graphical shapes Tommervik creates are strongly reminiscent of the figures and still lifes pioneered by Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque at the turn of the 20th Century. However, there's not a bottle or a guitar in sight in these images, which instead transform the world of Star Wars into abstract oils on canvas.
Over the last year Tommervik has started to add paintings of Star Wars characters to his repetoire of sportsmen, bears and Pee Wee Herman, to name but a few. He's now racked up quite a collection, the majority of which you can view in our gallery, below, which reflects a childhood fascinated with the Hollywood franchise.
Tommervik told Wired.co.uk: "Star Wars impacted on my life at an early age. I remember all the neat toys, and remembering them and my childhood inspired .
Interestingly, the artist relies entirely on these vintage toys and his imagination as the reference point for his paintings, saying his craft gets in the way of any pop-cultural film research: "I don't remember which Star Wars film was my favourite. It's been such a long time since I watched the films -- I'm often too busy painting."
Instead of their stage presence, Tommervik is inspired by the aesthetics of the sci-fi characters who appear in his images. "The characters and the scene set-ups are not important to me. It's the colours and the shapes of things which make me want to paint the subject."
While Tommervik claims that the Millenium Falcon offers the best combination of those factors, he is also a droid fan, saying R2-D2 has always been his favourite character, with R5-D4 following a close second. Tommervik has painted the droid in various Cubist reincarnations.
As to why he chose the synthetic Cubism style of painting, Tommervik claims it is as natural to him as wanting to paint Princess Leia and Darth Vader performing a two step, "I represent everything in the same way, it's just my style -- it's abstract."
A Rubber Ball Thrown on the Sea, Lawrence Weiner
This depicts the difference between modern and post-modern art.and this is a post-modern art
ll trends become clearer with time. Looking at art even 15 years out, “you can see the patterns a little better,” says Melissa Ho, assistant curator at the Hirshhorn Museum. “There are larger, deeper trends that have to do with how we are living in the world and how we are experiencing it.”





So what exactly is modern art? The question, she says, is less answerable than endlessly discussable.
Technically, says Ho, modern art is “the cultural expression of the historical moment of modernity.” But how to unpack that statement is contested. One way of defining modern art, or anything really, is describing what it is not. Traditional academic painting and sculpture dominated the 17th, 18th and 19th centuries. “It was about perfect, seamless technique and using that perfect, seamless technique to execute very well-established subject matter,” says Ho. There was a hierarchy of genres, from history paintings to portraiture to still lifes and landscapes, and very strict notions of beauty. “Part of the triumph of modernism is overturning academic values,” she says.
In somewhat of a backlash to traditional academic art, modern art is about personal expression. Though it was not always the case historically, explains Ho, “now, it seems almost natural that the way you think of works of art are as an expression of an individual vision.” Modernism spans a huge variety of artists and kinds of art. But the values behind the pieces are much the same. “With modern art, there is this new emphasis put on the value of being original and doing something innovative,” says Ho.
Edouard Manet and the Impressionists were considered modern, in part, because they were depicting scenes of modern life. The Industrial Revolution brought droves of people to the cities, and new forms of leisure sprung up in urban life. Inside the Hirshhorn’s galleries, Ho points out Thomas Hart Benton’s People of Chilmark, a painting of a mass of tangled men and women, slightly reminiscent of a classical Michelangelo or Théodore Géricault’s famous Raft of the Medusa, except that it is a contemporary beach scene, inspired by the Massachusetts town where Benton summered. Ringside Seats, a painting of a boxing match by George Bellows, hangs nearby, as do three paintings by Edward Hopper, one titled First Row Orchestra of theatergoers waiting for the curtains to be drawn.
In Renaissance art, a high premium was put on imitating nature. “Then, once that was chipped away at, abstraction is allowed to flourish,” says Ho. Works like Benton’s and Hopper’s are a combination of observation and invention. Cubists, in the early 1900s, started playing with space and shape in a way that warped the traditional pictorial view.
Art historians often use the word “autonomous” to describe modern art. “The vernacular would be ‘art for art’s sake,’” explains Ho. “It doesn’t have to exist for any kind of utility value other than its own existential reason for being.” So, assessing modern art is a different beast. Rather than asking, as one might with a history painting, about narrative—Who is the main character? And what is the action?—assessing a painting, say, by Piet Mondrian, becomes more about composition. “It is about the compositional tension,” says Ho, “the formal balance between color and line and volume on one hand, but also just the extreme purity of and rigor of it.”
According to Ho, some say that modernism reaches its peak with Abstract Expressionism in America during the World War II era. Each artist of the movement tried to express his individual genius and style, particularly through touch. “So you get Jackson Pollock with his dripping and throwing paint,” says Ho. “You get Mark Rothko with his very luminous, thinly painted fields of color.” And, unlike the invisible brushwork in heavily glazed academic paintings, the strokes in paintings by Willem de Kooning are loose and sometimes thick. “You really can feel how it was made,” says Ho.
Shortly after World War II, however, the ideas driving art again began to change. Postmodernism pulls away from the modern focus on originality, and the work is deliberately impersonal. “You see a lot of work that uses mechanical or quasi-mechanical means or deskilled means,” says Ho. Andy Warhol, for example, uses silk screen, in essence removing his direct touch, and chooses subjects that play off of the idea of mass production. While modern artists such as Mark Rothko and Barnett Newman made color choices that were meant to connect with the viewer emotionally, postmodern artists like Robert Rauschenberg introduce chance to the process. Rauschenburg, says Ho, was known to buy paint in unmarked cans at the hardware store.
Postmodernism is associated with the deconstruction of the idea, ‘I am the artistic genius, and you need me,’ ” says Ho. Artists such as Sol LeWitt and Lawrence Weiner, with works in the Hirshhorn, shirk authorship even more. Weiner’s piece titled “A RUBBER BALL THROWN ON THE SEA, Cat. No. 146,” for example, is displayed at the museum in large, blue, sans-serif lettering. But Weiner was open to the seven words being reproduced in any color, size or font. “We could have taken a marker and written it on the wall,” says Ho. In other words, Weiner considered his role as artist to be more about conception than production. Likewise, some of LeWitt’s drawings from the late 1960s are basically drawings by instruction. He provides instructions but anyone, in theory, can execute them. “In this post-war generation, there is this trend, in a way, toward democratizing art,” says Ho. “Like the Sol LeWitt drawing, it is this opinion that anybody can make art.”
Rubik Mona Lisa, Invader
Invader is the pseudonym of a well-known French urban artist, born in 1969, whose work is modelled on the crude pixellation of 1970s-1980s 8-bit video games. He took his name from the 1978 arcade game Space Invaders, and much of his work is composed of square ceramic tiles inspired by video game characters. Although he prefers to remain incognito, and guards his identity carefully, his distinctive creations can be seen in many highly-visible locations in more than 60 cities in 30 countries.[1] He documents each intervention in a city as an "Invasion", and has published books and maps of the location of each of his street mosaics.
In addition to working with tiles, Invader is one of the leading proponents of indoor mosaics created using stacks of Rubik's Cubes in a style he refers to as "Rubikcubism". He is also known for his QR code mosaic works.


A street artist known only as Invader is making a killing recreating famous images such as Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa – out of Rubik’s Cubes.
He uses up to 800 of the cult 1980s blocks for each work and then sells them for as much as £20,000 apiece.
And the name of this art movement? Rubikcubism. Invader’s creativity is inspired by two leitmotifs: Notoriety in movies, novels or real life – Rubik Bad Men – and iconicity in art – Rubik Masterpieces.


He has recreated the likes of Andy Warhol’s Campbell’s Soup, historic events such as the 9/11 attack and celebrities including Stanley Kubrick.
Each work can take up to two days to put together and Invader uses a computer-generated picture to calculate how to twist the blocks into position.
The works are all the more impressive as they appear to overcome the limits imposed by the Rubik’s Cube palette of just six colours.
This deals with little colourful squares and hijacking a cult object from the 80s,’ said Invader.
There is also a generational aspect because it is a cult object from my childhood.
But ultimately it is a game and you could say I spend my time playing with Rubik’s Cubes when I am working in my studio.’
Invader first made a name for himself in 1998 after he pasted mosaics of characters from the classic Space Invaders game around Paris.
He went on to ‘invade’ 35 other cities with the mosaics, including London, New York, Melbourne and Tokyo.
His works sell at the Lazerides gallery in London, which also displays pieces by Banksy and Jamie Hewlett.
The Rubik’s Cube is a 3D puzzle invented in 1974 by Hungarian sculptor and architect Ernó Rubik.
More than 300,000,000 have been sold, making it the world’s best-selling toy.


Prada Marfa
Prada Marfa is a permanently installed sculpture by artists Elmgreen and Dragset, situated 1.4 miles (2.3 km) northwest ofValentine, Texas, just off U.S. Highway 90 (US 90), and about 26 miles (42 km) northwest of the city of Marfa.[1] The installation was inaugurated on October 1, 2005. The artists called the work a "pop architectural land art project."[2]
The sculpture, realized with the assistance of American architects Ronald Rael and Virginia San Fratello,[3] cost $80,000 and was intended to never be repaired, so it might slowly degrade back into the natural landscape.[4] This plan was deviated from when, six days after the sculpture was completed, vandals graffitied the exterior, and broke into the building stealing handbags and shoes.
Sculpture[edit]
Designed to resemble a Prada store, the building is made of "adobe bricks, plaster, paint, glass pane, aluminum frame, MDF, and carpet."[2] The installation's door is nonfunctional. On the front of the structure there are two large windows displaying actual Prada wares, shoes and handbags, picked out and provided by Miuccia Prada herself from the fall/winter 2005 collection; Prada allowed Elmgreen and Dragset to use the Prada trademark for this work.[1] The sculpture was financed by the Art Production Fund(APF) and Ballroom Marfa, a center of contemporary art and culture.
Prada had already collaborated with Elmgreen and Dragset in 2001 when the artists attached signage to the Tanya Bonakdar Gallery in New York City with the (false) message "Opening soon—PRADA". Prada Marfa is located relatively close to Donald Judd's Chinati Foundation. The minimalism of Prada's usual displays that are mimicked in this work play off the minimalism that Judd is known for as an artist. The site-specific of Prada Marfa invites for a comparison with other art movements such as minimalism and land art, which are equally dependent on the site where they are placed. Prada Marfa relies almost entirely on its context for its critical effect.[5] The "sculptural Intervention" can be interpreted as criticism of consumerism, luxury branding and gentrification, but whether intentionally or not, it reinforces the capitalist values it criticizes.[5] Therefore this work of art experienced a change of meaning and gained an ambivalent moment, that the artists did not expect. Along a ledge that runs around the base of the building, hundreds of people have left business cards, weighed down by small rocks.[6]
Vandalism[edit]


Prada Marfa, March 2014 vandalism.
A few days after Prada Marfa officially debuted, the installation was vandalized. The building was broken into, its contents (six handbags and 14 right footed shoes) were stolen, and the word "Dumb" as well as the phrase "Dum Dum" were spray painted on the sides of the structure.[4] The sculpture was quickly repaired, repainted, and restocked. The new Prada purses do not have bottoms and instead hide parts of a security system that alerts authorities if the bags are moved.[4] The vandalism shows the strong reaction and interaction between the sculpture and the viewers, being created among other things by the site-specific. The direct physical relationship between the sculpture and the viewers achieved extensive local and international press coverage.[5]
The exhibition was again vandalized in March of 2014. The structure was painted light blue, hung with fake logos for Toms Shoes from the awnings, and posted with a political manifesto on the door. Ballroom Marfa issued a statement decrying the vandalism and pledged to restore the site.[7] A Texas artist, 32-year-old Joe Magnano (using the pseudonym 9271977) was subsequently arrested and tried. Magnano pleaded guilty to two counts of misdemeanor criminal mischief and agreed to pay Ballroom Marfa $10,700 in restitution as well as a $1,000 fine.[8]
Response from Texas Department of Transportation[edit]
The Texas Department of Transportation (TxDOT) is currently discussing the fate of the installation now that it considers it to be a billboard that does not fit permitted specifications.[9] As of March 2014, no final decision had been made regarding the installation and its location. Michael Elmgreen commented on the allegations that Prada Marfa is an illegal advertisement for Prada. He stated: "There is no company behind the artwork. I was not commissioned by Prada [...] They never, ever asked me to do advertisement for them."[10] In September 2014, TxDOT officials announced that the structure would be reclassified as a museum, with the Prada Marfa as its only exhibit. This action exempts the structure from the same signage rules that forced the removal of a 40-foot-tall (12 m) neon bunny previously installed nearby by Playboy magazine.


Prometheus Bound, Peter Paul Rubens
Prometheus Bound is an oil painting by the Flemish artist Peter Paul Rubens. It shows the punishment of Prometheus. Begun between 1611 and 1612, it was completed by 1618, with the eagle painted by the specialist animal painter Frans Snyders. For a long time Rubens kept it in his own personal collection. It is now in the collection of the Philadelphia Museum of Art.
Paintings from Rubens' workshop can be divided into three categories: those he painted by himself, those he painted in part (mainly hands and faces), and those he only supervised as other painters produced them from his drawings or oil sketches. He had, as was usual at the time, a large workshop with many apprentices and students, some of whom, such as Anthony van Dyck, became famous in their own right. He also often sub-contracted elements such as animals or still-lifein large compositions to specialists such as Frans Snyders, or other artists such as Jacob Jordaens.
Prometheus ([promɛːtʰeús], meaning "forethought")[1] is a Titan in Greek mythology, best known as the benefactor who brought fire to mankind. Prometheus sided with Zeus and the ascendingOlympian gods in the vast cosmological struggle against Cronus (Kronos) and the other Titans. Prometheus was therefore on the conquering side of the cataclysmic war of the Greek gods, the Titanomachy, where Zeus and the Olympian gods ultimately defeated Cronus and the other Titans.
Ancient myths and legends relate at least four versions of the narratives describing Prometheus, his exploits with Zeus, and his eternal punishment as also inflicted by Zeus. There is a single somewhat comprehensive version of the birth of Prometheus and several variant versions of his subjection to eternal suffering at the will of Zeus. The most significant narratives of his origin appear in the Theogony of Hesiod which relates Prometheus as being the son of the Titan Iapetus by Clymene, one of the Oceanids. Hesiod then presents Prometheus as subsequently being a lowly challenger to Zeus's omnipotence. In the trick at Mecone, Prometheus tricks Zeus into eternally claiming the inedible parts of cows and bulls for the sacrificial ceremonies of the gods, while conceding the nourishing parts to humans for the eternal benefit of humankind. The two remaining central episodes regarding Prometheus as written by Hesiod include his theft of fire from Olympus for the benefit of humanity against the will of Zeus, and the eternal punishment which Prometheus would endure for these acts as inflicted upon him by the judgment of Zeus. For the greater part, the pre-Athenian ancient sources are selective in which of these narrative elements they chose by their own preferences to honor and support, and which ones they chose to exclude. The specific combinations of these relatively independent narrative elements by individual ancient authors (Hesiod, Homer, Pindar, Pythagoras), and specific exclusions among them, are often influenced by the particular needs and purposes of the larger myths and legends which they are depicting. Each individual ancient author selectively preferred certain crucial stories depicting Prometheus over others.
The intensive growth and expansion of Greek literature and philosophy in the classical fourth and fifth century Athenian period would greatly affect both the interpretation and influence which the myth of Prometheus would exert upon Athenian culture. This influence would extend beyond its dramatic and tragic form in the Athenian period, and influence large portions of the greater Western literary tradition which would follow it for over two millennia. All three of the major Athenian tragedians, Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides, were affected by the myth of Prometheus. The surviving plays and fragments of Aeschylus regarding Prometheus retain a special place of prominence within modern scholarship for their having survived the ravages of time. The majority of plays written by Aeschylus, Sophocles and Euripides have been lost to literary antiquity, including many of their writings on Prometheus.
Both during and after the Renaissance, Prometheus would again emerge as a major inspiration for his literary and poetic significance as a symbol and archetype to inspire new generations of artists, sculptors, poets, musicians, novelists, playwrights, and film-makers. His literary and mythological personage remains prominently portrayed in contemporary sculpture, art and literary expression including Mary Shelley's portrayal of Frankenstein as The Modern Prometheus. The influence of the myth of Prometheus extends well into the 20th and 21st century as well.
Guernica, Pablo Picasso
Probably Picasso's most famous work, Guernica is certainly the his most powerful political statement, painted as an immediate reaction to the Nazi's devastating casual bombing practice on the Basque town of Guernica during Spanish Civil War.
Guernica shows the tragedies of war and the suffering it inflicts upon individuals, particularly innocent civilians. This work has gained a monumental status, becoming a perpetual reminder of the tragedies of war, an anti-war symbol, and an embodiment of peace. On completion Guernica was displayed around the world in a brief tour, becoming famous and widely acclaimed. This tour helped bring the Spanish Civil War to the world's attention.
This work is seen as an amalgmation of pastoral and epic styles. The discarding of color intensifis the drama, producing a reportage quality as in a photographic record. Guernica is blue, black and white, 3.5 metre (11 ft) tall and 7.8 metre (25.6 ft) wide, a mural-size canvas painted in oil. This painting can be seen in the Museo Reina Sofia in Madrid.
Interpretations of Guernica vary widely and contradict one another. This extends, for example, to the mural's two dominant elements: the bull and the horse. Art historian Patricia Failing said, "The bull and the horse are important characters in Spanish culture. Picasso himself certainly used these characters to play many different roles over time. This has made the task of interpreting the specific meaning of the bull and the horse very tough. Their relationship is a kind of ballet that was conceived in a variety of ways throughout Picasso's career."
Some critics warn against trusting the polital message in Guernica. For instance the rampaging bull, a major motif of destruction here, has previouse figured, whether as a bull or Minotaur, as Picasso' ego. However, in this instance the bull probably represents the onslaught of Fascism. Picasso said it meant brutality and darkness, presumably reminiscent of his prophetic. He also stated that the horse represented the people of Guernica.
Historical context
Guernica is a town in the province of Biscay in Basque Country. During the Spanish Civil War, it was regarded as the northern bastion of the Republican resistance movement and the epicenter of Basque culture, adding to its significance as a target.
The Republican forces were made up of assorted factions (Communists, Socialists, Anarchists, to name a few) with wildly differing approaches to government and eventual aims, but a common opposition to the Nationalists. The Nationalists, led by General Francisco Franco, were also factionalized but to a lesser extent. They sought a return to the golden days of Spain, based on law, order, and traditional Catholic family values.
At about 16:30 on Monday, 26 April 1937, warplanes of the German Condor Legion, commanded by Colonel Wolfram von Richthofen, bombed Guernica for about two hours. Germany, at this time led by Hitler, had lent material support to the Nationalists and were using the war as an opportunity to test out new weapons and tactics. Later, intense aerial bombardment became a crucial preliminary step in the Blitzkrieg tactic.
After the bombing, Picasso was made aware of what had gone on in his country of origin. At the time, he was working on a mural for the Paris Exhibition to be held in the summer of 1937, commissioned by the Spanish Republican government. He deserted his original idea and on 1 May 1937, began on Guernica. This captivated his imagination unlike his previous idea, on which he had been working somewhat dispassionately, for a couple of months. It is interesting to note, however, that at its unveiling at the Paris Exhibition that summer, it garnered little attention. It would later attain its power as such a potent symbol of the destruction of war on innocent lives.
Fidel Castro (1959 photo), Agan Harahap
Batman with Fidel Castro as he arrives in Washington DC in 1959
He’s just creating superhistory using superheros and history..with Photoshop
Michael Jordan, LeRoy Neiman
Mention from the time when it was sold in an auction:
Titled Michael Jordan, issued in 1991, numbered "AP 2/50" (designating this as a rare artist's proof), and flawlessly signed in pencil along the lower margin by both Michael Jordan and LeRoy Neiman (each grading "10"). Edition limited to just 376 total impressions (320 numbered impressions, 50 artist's proofs, and 6 printer's proofs). This is one of only two serigraphs ever produced by LeRoy Neiman picturing Michael Jordan and the only one to feature him exclusively. Utilizing a montage format, Neiman captures Jordan in an array of poses: dribbling, driving, shooting, and dunking. This serigraph, which was issued in 1991, the year in which Jordan won his first of an eventual six World Championships with the Bulls, is widely recognized as the premier art print of Jordan. The serigraph measures 29.5 x 36.5 inches (image area) and is in Near Mint condition. Beautifully and very expensively matted and framed to total dimensions of 42.5 x 51 inches. Please Note: Due to the size and/or weight of this lot, shipping costs (depending on where it is sent and its method of shipping) may be substantial. LOA from James Spence/JSA. Reserve $1,500. Estimate $3,000/$5,000. SOLD FOR $5,875
LeRoy Neiman (born Leroy Leslie Runquist, June 8, 1921 – June 20, 2012) was an American artist known for his brilliantly colored, expressionist paintings and screen prints of athletes, musicians, and sporting events.
The Sound of the Unbound
Fake Plastic Trees" is a song by the British alternative rock band Radiohead, from their second album The Bends (1995). It was the third single to be released from that album in the UK, but in the US, it was released as the band's first single from the album.[1]"Fake Plastic Trees" marked a turning point in the band's early career, moving away from the grunge sound of their earlier hit single "Creep".[2]
In 2008, the song was featured on Radiohead: The Best Of, a compilation album.
Despite the song's popularity, not all critics were complimentary upon release. Writing for NME in May 1995, John Mulvey surmised that the song lacked substance, and drew comparisons with the stadium rock of U2.[7]
The song placed at number 376 on Rolling Stone magazine's list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time, and at number 28 on Triple J Radio's Hottest 100 of All Timecountdown.[8]
Music video[edit]
The music video, directed by Jake Scott, is set inside a supermarket, where the band are pushed around in shopping carts among several other characters, including clerks, children, an old man with a large beard who plays with toy guns, a woman in a large black hat, a bald man in basketball jersey who shaves his head with an electric razor, a young man playing with a trolley, etc. The director has said about the video: "The film is actually an allegory for death and reincarnation but if you can read that into it you must be as weird as the people who made it".[9] Norman Reedus, star of Boondock Saints and The Walking Dead, makes a cameo appearance as 'the young man playing with a trolley'.
"It's the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)" is a song by the rock band R.E.M., which appeared on their 1987 album Document, the 1988 compilation Eponymous, and the 2006 compilation And I Feel Fine... The Best of the I.R.S Years 1982–1987. It was released as a single in November 1987, reaching No. 69 in the US Billboard Hot 100 and later reaching No. 39 in the UK singles chart on its re-release in December 1991.
The song originated from a previously unreleased song called "PSA" ("Public Service Announcement"); the two songs are very similar in melody and tempo. "PSA" was itself later released as a single in 2003, under the title "Bad Day." In an interview with Guitar World magazine published in November 1996, R.E.M. guitarist Peter Buck agreed that "End of the World" was in the tradition of Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues."[2]
The music video was directed by James Herbert, who worked with the band on several other videos in the late 1980s. It depicts a young skateboarder, Noah Ray,[3] rifling through an abandoned, collapsing farmhouse and displaying the relics that he finds to the camera.
The Best Imitation of Myself: A Retrospective is a compilation album by American singer-songwriter Ben Folds and his alternative rock trio Ben Folds Five, released in the United States of America on October 11, 2011 by Legacy Records.[1] The title comes from a song from their 1995 self-titled debut album.
The standard-edition album contains 17 popular songs from the band's discography and Folds' subsequent solo career, as well as the new Ben Folds Five single "House", which debuted on the website for the NBC competition show The Sing-Off,[2] on which Folds is a judge.
An expanded edition includes 43 additional tracks over three discs, including two more new songs from Ben Folds Five recorded in 2011. Folds also made available through his website the additional album Fifty-Five Vault, a 56-track collection of rarities. A five-track sampler from this album, Free Folds Five, was included with digital copies of The Best Imitation of Myself.
This Is Just a Modern Rock Song is Belle & Sebastian's fourth EP, released in 1998 on Jeepster Records. The front cover features Alan Horne, founder of Postcard Records. It is the only Belle & Sebastian release never to be issued in North America, although all four tracks from the EP were later collected on the Push Barman to Open Old Wounds compilation. A chart ruling was put into place shortly before the EP was released stating singles or EPs must contain no more than three tracks and last no longer than 20 minutes in total to be eligible for the UK singles sales chart, and thus – with its four tracks and carefully crafted total running time – This Is Just a Modern Rock Song failed to chart.
"Slow Graffiti" was written for the soundtrack of the film The Acid House based on the Irvine Welsh novel of the same name.
4′33″ (pronounced "Four minutes, thirty-three seconds" or just "Four thirty-three"[1]) is a three-movement composition[2][3] by American experimental composer John Cage(1912–1992). It was composed in 1952, for any instrument or combination of instruments, and the score instructs the performer(s) not to play their instrument(s) during the entire duration of the piece throughout the three movements. The piece purports to consist of the sounds of the environment that the listeners hear while it is performed,[4] although it is commonly perceived as "four minutes thirty-three seconds of silence".[5][6] The title of the piece refers to the total length in minutes and seconds of a given performance, 4′33″being the total length of the first public performance.[7]
Conceived around 1947–1948, while the composer was working on Sonatas and Interludes,[2] 4′33″ became for Cage the epitome of his idea that any sounds may constitutemusic.[8] It was also a reflection of the influence of Zen Buddhism, which Cage studied since the late 1940s. In a 1982 interview, and on numerous other occasions, Cage stated that 4′33″ was, in his opinion, his most important work.[9] The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians describes 4′33″ as Cage's "most famous and controversial creation".[2]
Silence played a major role in several of Cage's works composed before 4′33″. The Duet for Two Flutes (1934), composed when Cage was 22, opens with silence, and silence was an important structural element in some of the Sonatas and Interludes (1946–48), Music of Changes (1951) and Two Pastorales (1951). The Concerto for prepared piano and orchestra (1951) closes with an extended silence, and Waiting (1952), a piano piece composed just a few months before 4′33″, consists of long silences framing a single, short ostinato pattern. Furthermore, in his songs The Wonderful Widow of Eighteen Springs (1942) and A Flower (1950) Cage directs the pianist to play a closed instrument, which may be understood as a metaphor of silence.[10]
The first time Cage mentioned the idea of a piece composed entirely of silence was during a 1947 (or 1948) lecture at Vassar College, A Composer's Confessions. Cage told the audience that he had "several new desires", one of which was
to compose a piece of uninterrupted silence and sell it to Muzak Co. It will be three or four-and-a-half minutes long—those being the standard lengths of "canned" music and its title will be Silent Prayer. It will open with a single idea which I will attempt to make as seductive as the color and shape and fragrance of a flower. The ending will approach imperceptibility.[11]
At the time, however, Cage felt that such a piece would be "incomprehensible in the Western context," and was reluctant to write it down: "I didn't wish it to appear, even to me, as something easy to do or as a joke. I wanted to mean it utterly and be able to live with it."[12] Painter Alfred Leslie recalls Cage presenting a "one-minute-of-silence talk" in front of a window during the late 1940s, while visiting Studio 35 at New York University.[13]
In 1951, Cage visited the anechoic chamber at Harvard University. An anechoic chamber is a room designed in such a way that the walls, ceiling and floor absorb all sounds made in the room, rather than reflecting them as echoes. Such a chamber is also externally sound-proofed. Cage entered the chamber expecting to hear silence, but he wrote later, "I heard two sounds, one high and one low. When I described them to the engineer in charge, he informed me that the high one was my nervous system in operation, the low one my blood in circulation."[14] Cage had gone to a place where he expected total silence, and yet heard sound. "Until I die there will be sounds. And they will continue following my death. One need not fear about the future of music."[15] The realization as he saw it of the impossibility of silence led to the composition of 4′33″.
Another cited influence[12] for this piece came from the field of the visual arts. Cage's friend and sometimes colleague Robert Rauschenberg had produced, in 1951, a series of white paintings, seemingly "blank" canvases (though painted with white house paint) that in fact change according to varying light conditions in the rooms in which they were hung, the shadows of people in the room and so on. This inspired Cage to use a similar idea, as he later stated, "Actually what pushed me into it was not guts but the example of Robert Rauschenberg. His white paintings [...] when I saw those, I said, 'Oh yes, I must. Otherwise I'm lagging, otherwise music is lagging'."[16] In an introduction to an article called On Robert Rauschenberg, Artist, and His Works, John Cage writes "To Whom It May Concern: The white paintings came first; my silent piece came later."
Article Describing The Giants in the Sky…In a recent story in The New Yorker,Stephen Sondheim revealed several plot changes for the upcoming Disney film adaptation of his Tony Award-winning musical Into the Woods, which will arrive in theatres Dec. 25.
Sondheim spoke about the changes in the film during an event hosted by the Academy for Teachers in which the composer-lyricist met with a group of high school theatre teachers to discuss the challenges they faced when it came to artistic censorship in an educational setting.
Kevin Gallagher, a teacher who is considering a production of Into the Woodsat his school, brought up concerns over the nature of the relationship between Little Red Riding Hood and the Wolf. "So, what is the objection?" Sondheim asked.
"Infidelity, a wolf being lascivious, that the whole connection with Red Riding Hood is sexual," Gallagher replied. "Well, you'll be happy to know that Disney had the same objections," Sondheim said.
Spoilers below
Sondheim continued, "You will find in the movie that Rapunzel does not get killed, and the prince does notsleep with the [Baker's Wife]." He added, "You know, if I were a Disney executive I probably would say the same thing."
Another teacher asked if the song "Any Moment," which bookends the encounter between Cinderella's Prince and the Baker's Wife, had been cut. "The song is cut," Sondheim stated. Following outcry from the teachers, Sondheim added, "I'm sorry, I should say, it's probably cut."
When pressed that he should have stuck up for the inclusion of the song, Sondheim said that he and Into the Woods' Tony Award-winning book writer James Lapine did so. "But Disney said, we don't want Rapunzel to die, so we replotted it. I won't tell you what happens, but we wrote a new song to cover it," he said.
Beacon high school teacher Jo Ann Cimato, who has staged school productions of Spring Awakening, Passing Strange, The Last Days of Judas Iscariot and The Light in the Piazza with teen actors, said that her students felt angry and mistrusted when they read the un-edited scripts of certain productions after they were forced to make alterations for their own school production.
Sondheim replied that the students were right to feel that way, adding, "But you have to explain to them that censorship is part of our puritanical ethics, and it's something that they're going to have to deal with. There has to be a point at which you don't compromise anymore, but that may mean that you won't get anyone to sell your painting or perform your musical. You have to deal with reality."
*
As previously reported, the film of Into the Woods will also feature the new song "Rainbows" and a new song written for Meryl Streep, who portrays The Witch.
Rob Marshall ("Chicago," Disney's "Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides") directs the film, based on the Tony-winning original musical by Lapine, who also penned the screenplay, and Sondheim, who provides music and lyrics. 
The cast includes Emily Blunt ("Looper," "The Young Victoria," "The Devil Wears Prada") as the Baker's Wife, James Corden (One Man, Two Guvnors) as the Baker, Anna Kendrick ("Pitch Perfect," "Up in the Air") as Cinderella, Chris Pine ("Star Trek Into Darkness," "Jack Ryan") as Cinderella's Prince, Johnny Depp ("Pirates of the Caribbean," "The Lone Ranger," "Sweeney Todd") as the Wolf, Daniel Huttlestone ("Les Misérables") as Jack, Lilla Crawford (Annie) as Little Red, Tracey Ullman as Jack’s Mother, Christine Baranski ("Mamma Mia!," "The Good Wife") as the Stepmother, MacKenzie Mauzy (Next to Normal) as Rapunzel and Billy Magnussen (Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike) as Rapunzel's Prince.
Rounding out the cast are Tammy Blanchard (How to Succeed…) and Lucy Punch ("Bad Teacher," "Dinner for Schmucks") as Cinderella's stepsisters, Florinda and Lucinda, respectively; Richard Glover ("Sightseers," "St. Trinian's") as the Steward; Frances de la Tour ("Hugo," "Alice In Wonderland") as the Giant; Simon Russell Beale ("The Deep Blue Sea") as the Baker's father; Joanna Riding ("My Fair Lady") as Cinderella's mother; and Annette Crosbie ("Calendar Girls," "The Slipper and the Rose") as Little Red Riding Hood's granny.
"Into the Woods," according to press notes, "is a modern twist on the beloved Brothers Grimm fairy tales, intertwining the plots of a few choice stories and exploring the consequences of the characters’ wishes and quests. This humorous and heartfelt musical follows the classic tales of Cinderella, Little Red Riding Hood, Jack and the Beanstalk, and Rapunzel—all tied together by an original story involving a baker and his wife, their wish to begin a family and their interaction with the witch who has put a curse on them."
The big-screen adaptation welcomes songs from the stage musical, including "Children Will Listen," "Giants in the Sky," "On the Steps of the Palace," "No One Is Alone" and "Agony," among others.
The production team includes Dion Beebe as director of photography, Dennis Gassner as production designer and Colleen Atwood as costume designer.
Into the Woods premiered on Broadway Nov. 5, 1987, at the Martin BeckTheatre. The production, which ran for 764 performances, won Tony Awards for Best Score, Best Book and Best Actress in a Musical.
LYRICS
RADIOHEAD Fake Plastic trees
Her green plastic watering can for
her fake Chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth
What she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber bands
to get rid of itself
It wears her out, it wears her out
It wears her out, it wears her out
She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns
He used to do surgery
For girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins
And it wears him out, it wears him out
It wears him out, it wears him
She Looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My fake plastic love
But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run
And it wears me out, it wears me out
It wears me out, it wears me out
If i could be who you wanted
If i could be who you wanted all the time, all the time

IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD REM
That's great, it starts with an earthquake
Birds and snakes, an aeroplane, Lenny Bruce is not afraid
Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn
World serves its own needs, don't misserve your own needs
Feed it up a knock, speed, grunt, no, strength, no
Ladder, structure clatter with fear of height, down height
Wire in a fire, represent the seven games
In a government for hire and a combat site
Left her, wasn't coming in a hurry with the furies
Breathing down your neck
Team by team, reporters baffled, trump, tethered crop
Look at that low plane, fine then
Uh oh, overflow, population, common group
But it'll do, save yourself, serve yourself
World serves its own needs, listen to your heart bleed
Tell me with the rapture and the reverent in the right, right
You vitriolic, patriotic, slam, fight, bright light
Feeling pretty psyched
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine
Six o'clock, TV hour, don't get caught in foreign tower
Slash and burn, return, listen to yourself churn
Lock him in uniform and book burning, blood letting
Every motive escalate, automotive incinerate
Light a candle, light a motive, step down, step down
Watch a heel crush, crush, uh oh, this means no fear
Cavalier, renegade and steer clear
A tournament, a tournament, a tournament of lies
Offer me solutions, offer me alternatives and I decline
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine, I feel fine
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine
The other night I tripped a nice continental drift divide
Mount St. Edelite, Leonard Bernstein
Leonid Breshnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs
Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom
You symbiotic, patriotic, slam but neck, right? Right
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
It's the end of the world as we know it
And I feel fine


BEST IMITATION OF MYSELF BEN FOLDS FIVE
I feel like a quote out of context
With holdin' the rest
So I can be for you what you want to see
I got the gestures and sounds
Got the timin' down
It's uncanny, yeah
You'd think it was me
Do you think I should take a class
To lose my Southern accent?
Did I make me up
Or make the face 'til it stuck?
I do the best imitation of myself
The problem with your speech
You gave me was fine
I liked the theories about my little stage
And I swore I was listenin'
But I started driftin'
Around the part about me
Actin' my age
And now if it's all the same
I've people to entertain
I juggle one-handed
Do some magic tricks and
The best imitation of myself
Maybe I'm thinkin' myself in a hole
Wonderin' who I am?
When I ought to know?
Straighten up now time to go
Fool somebody else
Fool somebody else
Last night, I was east with them
And west within tryin' to be for you
What you want to see
But I can't help it
With you the good and bad comes through
Don't want you hangin' out
With no one but me
Now if it's all the same
It comes from the same place
And if my mind's somewhere else
You won't be able to tell
I do the best imitation of myself
Yes, it's uncanny to see
You'd really think it was me
The best imitation of myself
Do the best imitation of myself
THIS IS JUST A MODERN ROCK SONG BELLE & SEBESTIAN
Emma tried to run away
I followed her across the city
She went out to the Easter house
Because she liked the sound of it
She didn't have a single penny
She stuck a finger in the air
She tried to flag down an aeroplane
I suppose she needs a holiday
I put my arm around her waist
She put me on the ground with judo
She didn't recognize my face
She wasn't even looking
Laura's feeling just ideal
Her horoscope was nearly perfect
She's thinking of something to do
Because she is the birthday girl
She walked out to the edge of town
She saw me lying in the park
She took Emma by the hand
They've got a lot in common
I'll leave them to do what they want
I'll leave them to do what they need to
I'll go and play with words and pictures
I'll admit I'm feeling strange
I'm not as sad as Doestoevsky
I'm not as clever as Mark Twain
I'll only buy a book for the way it looks
And then I stick it on the shelf again
Now I could tell you what I'm thinking
But it never seems to do you good
It's beyond me what a girl can see
I'm only lucid when I'm writing songs
This is just a modern rock song
This is just a sorry lament
We're four boys in corduroys
We're not terrific but we're competent
Stevie's full of good intentions
Richard's into rock 'n' roll
Stuart's staying in and he thinks it's a sin
That he has to leave the house at all
This is just a modern rock song
This is just a tender affair
I count "three, four" and then we start to slow
Because a song has got to stop somewhere

GIANTS IN THE SKY STEPHEN SOUNHEIM
There are giants in the sky
There are big tall terrible giants in the sky

When you're way up high and you look below
At the world you left and the things you know
Little more than a glance is enough to show you
Just how small you are

When you're way up high and you're on your own
In a world like none that you've ever known
Where the sky is lead and the earth is stone
You're free to do whatever pleases you
Exploring things you'd never dare
'Cause you don't care
When suddenly there's
A big tall terrible giant at the door
A big tall lady giant sweeping the floor
And she gives you food and she gives you rest
And she draws you close to her giant breast
And you know things now that you never knew before
Not 'till the sky

Only just when you've made a friend and all
And you know she's big but you don't feel small
Someone bigger than her comes along the hall
To swallow you for lunch
And your heart is lead and your stomach stone
And you're really scared being all alone
And it's then that you miss all the things you've known
And the world you've left and the little you own
The fun is done
You steal what you can and run
And you scramble down and you look below
And the world you know begins to grow
The roof, the house, and your mother at the door
The roof, the house, and the world you never thought to explore
And you think of all of the things you've seen
And you wish that you could live in between
And you're back again only different than before
After the sky

There are giants in the sky
There are big tall terrible, awesome, scary, wonderful giants in the sky


Sasha Zalmer Music Notations
When you think about it, the concept of music notation is pretty weird. Imagine if Andy Warhol had received commissions not for paintings, but rather for paint-by-number templates, to be realized by each art interpreter on their own canvases. Of course, we all know why music developed a notation system, but a recent email exchange with French composer Sasha Zamler-Carhartreminded me of the importance of not taking our practices for granted. Assumptions are baked into every aspect of music notation, often layered one on top of the other, and they color the kinds of music we can make.
Any notation system is about trade-offs: certain elements are emphasized over others for the sake of not overwhelming our human minds with their finite capacity for detail. After all, you could theoretically employ waveform print-outs as music notation, but that’s way too much detail to be useful in most performance contexts. By necessity then, the priorities of your practice inform its notation. But as soon as your notation exists, it throws its priorities right back in your face and informs your practice, more or less to the same extent.
Make too many wrong assumptions about a notation and you’ll quickly dig yourself into a hole. On the performing end of the equation, you’ll totally miss the point when it comes to wide swaths of repertoire, delivering lackluster interpretations that fail to reflect either the composer’s intent or your expressive talents. As a composer, you’ll limit your sound world to a small set of symbols—as the saying goes, when all you have is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail—or conversely you’ll make it unnecessarily hard for performers to realize ideas that don’t fully fit the notation you’re using. So whether as performer or composer, you’ll have basically become the score’s whipping boy: conforming your music to the notation’s limitations instead of conforming the notation to your artistry.
New Music, Early Music
In our exchange, Zamler-Carhart told me about his compositional practice, the frustrations he had as a student, and how he came to find his voice as an artist. For him, the problem lay in the seemingly uncontroversial advice his teachers offered on how new music works in the “real world”:
  • You won’t get much rehearsal time
  • Make your scores as clear as possible so ensembles can play your pieces after a few readings
  • The best interpreters are technical virtuosi and perfect sight-readers
Yet Zamler-Carhart wasn’t satisfied with the results he was getting. Eclectic by temperament, he also studied early music, and in that genre he came across a set of practices that better resonated with his aesthetic:
  • Music is rehearsed and reworked “endlessly until it sounds beautiful”
  • If the music is worth performing, the time and effort required to realize the score are immaterial
  • The best interpreters are those who bring “flawless elegance” to their playing
Zamler-Carhart has taken these principles to heart, and they have informed his practice ever since. Consequently, he prefers not to “work with musicians unless they can give me a lot of time (I mean weeks and months, not hours).” Once in rehearsal, he refines his interpretations orally, teasing out nuances via performance practice instead of ultra-precise notation, and this allows him to have meaningful exchanges with interpreters who are not new music specialists.
In Zamler-Carhart’s thinking, this works because performers who deal primarily with the music of the past expect a “triangular” relationship between notation, interpreter, and performance practice. There is the assumption that some of the information required will not be in the score—not that anything goes, mind you, but rather that sources outside of the printed page are necessary. Zamler-Carhart simply leverages this set of expectations. In his words:
Many early music performers are not used to seeing lots of dynamic and articulation markings in a score. They expect those elements to be part of performance practice and to be conveyed in rehearsal. An over-specific score can discourage them and give them the impression that the music is more difficult than it really is. Once in rehearsal, however, they will probably accept any change in dynamics, articulation, timbre and even tempo as part of normal rehearsal information, and they will incorporate that into their performance.
Naturally, Zamler-Carhart’s approach has certain implications: when he chooses to rely on oral performance practice, he also de facto excludes the resulting piece from much of the new music mainstream. The American Composers Orchestra is unlikely to spend “weeks and months” rehearsing a single piece with a single composer, so if you want to write orchestral music, the “early music” model is not for you. But that doesn’t mean it has no value. Too often we assume that the standard notational model and the performance practice it entails is the only path (or at least the unquestionably superior path). This isn’t true, and when you look closer, you’ll find that it comes with its own trade-offs and restrictions.
Realizing this, Zamler-Carhart has successfully used a range of notations (and non-notations) for his pieces, from a one-line vocal staff with neumes to modernist graphic scores, and from (selective) traditional notation to orally transmitted music to be learned solely by ear. He has even changed notational systems mid-piece when appropriate. However, what he does notdo is turn the score into some kind of musical crossword puzzle: his choices are always based on the idea of making it as easy as possible to realize the musical vision at hand.
The Right Tool for the Job
When it comes to building a career, the best musicians navigate the biases inherent in music notation in one of two ways: either (1) they restrict themselves to repertoire that works with their notational preferences, or (2) they switch notations based on the task at hand.
Percussionist Steven Schick provides a great example of the second approach. Earlier in his professional life, regular recital tours and prodigious quantities of new repertoire were central to his practice. On one end of the spectrum, he earned a reputation for his masterful interpretations of famously complex pieces such as Brian Ferneyhough’s Bone Alphabet (written for Schick in 1991) and Xenakis’s Psappha. On the other, he served as percussionist for Bang on a Can, performing works by David Lang, Steve Reich, Louis Andriessen, and other composers of the minimalist or post-minimalist vein.
These repertoires are not notated in the same way—indeed, there is significant variation even within each. The score to Reich’s Drumming is traditional yet sparse, and the phasing for which the piece is famous is simply described in text. Bone Alphabet, alternately, takes Cold War–era notational specificity to its extreme, with articulations and dynamics in virtually every bar, nonstop nested tuplets, and constant meter changes. Psappha, on the other hand, eschews traditional notation entirely in favor of a series of grids and tablatures.
Over the last decade, Schick’s musical priorities have evolved and so have the notational practices employed. He now focuses on collaborative, large-scale projects developed in tandem with composers, directors, instrument builders, writers, and other artists over an extended period of time. Take Schick Machine, his collaboration with Paul Dresher. A one-man, concert-length theater piece scored largely for invented percussion instruments, Schick Machine tells the fantastical story of a “mad scientist” percussionist who tinkers with instruments in his garage. Schick moves across a stage cluttered with dozens of custom-made instruments, narrating and performing as he goes, often to humorous effect. At certain moments the storytelling dominates, while at others the narrative gives way to purely instrumental “numbers” that feature specific groupings of percussion instruments. There are no breaks in the piece and the performance lasts over an hour.
Notating a piece like Schick Machine poses clear logistical challenges. Of course, you could detail every movement, gesture, speech, and musical figure with diagrams and staff notation. But would such a score convey the priorities of the piece? If the goal were to create a piece that gets played on every high school percussion recital the world over, perhaps. But that’s not the point—I mean, just look at the title. The piece is meant for Schick alone; the score only needs to be precise enough for him to remember how to realize a performance. Thus, they didn’t bother with a traditional score. Schick explains:
The piece was derived from improvisations and is still pretty largely improvised. There is a script and a sort of standard performance video that we made at the Mondavi Center…I use them together in lieu of a score.
At best, going through the motions of Cold War notational practice would have been a waste of time and a distraction. At worst, it would have “downsampled” the artistry of the piece, flattening the nuance of the Dresher/Schick vision into a long and complex series of approximations. Now, I am by no means arguing that Schick has rejected traditional notation entirely—he is still more than willing to read a score written in the new music fashion. But it is a testament to his creative talents that he can shift gears when the music demands it, as it does for this piece. A lot of musicians, even at the highest level, can’t do that.
Breaking the Unwritten Rules
Of course, you can have a successful music career focusing entirely on a single notational practice, whether new music specificity, early music ambiguity, structured improv, standard orchestral practice, or whatever. But you still need to understand the priorities of your notation. There are always unwritten rules, and there are consequences to violating them.
A few months ago, I saw a Facebook exchange between a handful of composers who are in the same graduate composition program together. One of them had written a piece that is played at a single dynamic level throughout. As such, he had simply written f at the start of each part and left it at that; there were no further dynamics and no cautionary indications. Of course, the first thing the performers asked in rehearsal was, “Where are the dynamics?” His response was a snotty, “At the start of the piece.” Technically, the composer was using traditional notation correctly, but new music practice requires more specificity than he provided. The interpreters knew that most contemporary scores have a lot of dynamic detail, so without a cautionary indication, it is entirely reasonable for them to assume there had been a printing error.
Performers can, of course, get along fine without dynamics, but you can’t just assume they’ll figure out what you want—you need to point them in the right direction. Zamler-Carhart did just this with his St. Francis String Quartets, written for the New York-based JACK Quartet. The scores have virtually no dynamics, articulations, or tempo marks. Not unexpectedly, the quartet was a bit surprised at first, but they were willing “to engage with the piece and understand the logic of why, for example, a passage would be soft or loud even if it doesn’t say so… even with a concert looming.” For Zamler-Carhart, the experience was fulfilling and “the challenge improved the quality of performance.”
These exceptional cases aside, some skill in interpreting unwritten conventions is required even for the most banal of notational practices. Take the tenuto. Composer Sarah Kirkland Snider posted this question on Facebook awhile ago:
Poll of performers/conductors/composers: when you see a tenuto mark (horizontal dash over a note) without a slur, do you think of it as a request to alter the dynamic or the duration? (And if you’re a performer, tell me which instrument you play.)
Her query inspired 62 responses and a spirited debate that was never resolved. Answers ranged from “a color change” to “emotional pressing” to shorter duration, longer duration, a slight dynamic accent, “more weight,” and many other contradictory statements. The fact of the matter is that you can never get a single, objectively right answer to this question, because the tenuto has evolved as a sort of open-ended placeholder, begging to be repurposed. The only thing you can really say is that it means that something in the music should change.
Stuck Inside the Box
Taking notational practice for granted can hold you back in important ways. When I was a composition student at UC San Diego, we had a residency with the Arditti Quartet, perhaps the foremost interpreters of modernist string quartet repertoire and its diaspora. But their virtuosity in that genre doesn’t mean they excel at everything else quartet-related.
During the course of the residency, Irvine Arditti made it fairly clear that he has (or had) certain blind spots when it comes to notational practice. In particular, he seems to have bought into the Cold War ideal that the score is the music, objectively and completely. On several occasions he responded to requests for a change in interpretation with, “We’re just playing what’s in the music,” implying that the quartet’s interpretation was correct and that the composer had made a mistake in notation.
Yet my fellow composers and I, debriefing over beers, couldn’t help but feel that something was missing, that there was a degree of one-dimensionality to their playing. One of my colleagues later had his piece performed at June in Buffalo by another quartet of less lofty reputation, and he vastly preferred that interpretation to the Arditti’s. The other quartet was willing to take the time to learn how his notation worked and how to interpret the musical ideas that underlay it. Consequently, they realized it more faithfully.
Irvine Arditti might counter that we had all just written shit pieces. (You can decide for yourself, at least for my piece; their rendition is embedded below.) At numerous points throughout the residency, he complained that there were no young composers doing anything interesting anymore: the best of their works were bad copies of Lachenmann, and the worst were just plain bad.
I don’t think that’s the problem. Rather, the issue is that Irvine Arditti acts as if there were only a single, objective notational practice. Since he refuses to interpret notation in any way other than the Lachenmann/Stockhausen/Xenakis model, is it any surprise he can’t find nuance in other types of scores? The young composers he calls derivative probably are—I don’t doubt he knows Germanic post-serialism like nobody’s business. But move outside of that comfort zone, and he loses the ability to assess other styles on their own terms. Anything he is not willing to decipher becomes “not well written” and anything he can decipher is by necessity derivative. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Nor am I the only person to notice the effects of this blind spot on the Arditti Quartet’s interpretations. Their Beethoven renditions haven’t exactly met with critical acclaim, after all. Reviews like the following are typical:
for most of the concert they seemed more concerned with just getting the notes together than with interpretation. This was especially, almost painfully, evident in the opening work, Beethoven’s Grosse Fuge in B-Flat Major, Op. 133. Beethoven, of course, is not exactly in the Arditti’s wheelhouse. But that’s still no excuse for iffy intonation, long stretches of uninflected dynamics, and questionable articulation.
If there were really only one objective way to use notation, this shouldn’t have been possible for a quartet of the technical caliber of the Arditti. Yet that’s what they served up. The Ardittis are perhaps the greatest string quartet interpreters of the Cold War modernist repertoire and its offshoots. Unfortunately, they are middling interpreters of everything else, because they assume all music works the same way.
Naturally, there are many successful paths between the Arditti Quartet and Zamler-Carhart’s ever-shifting notation. Nor am I advocating that everyone structure their careers like Steven Schick. But we as musicians in the classical tradition use notation pretty much all the time, and it’s worth reflecting on how that changes us. I don’t fault Irvine Arditti for liking the kind of music he likes, or for sticking to a single performance practice. But it is undeniable that his approach to notational practice has influenced his career.
Music notation is not the tabula rasa we pretend it to be. It is rather a tool for expressing specific kinds of sonic ideas, to specific kinds of people, for specific reasons. You don’t need a fancy graphic score or some kind of alternative tablature to completely transform the priorities of a notation, you just need a performance practice. If we ignore the unwritten aspects of notation, we’re likely to come away dissatisfied. If we keep them in mind, conversely, we’ll be more successful at creating music that speaks to us, whether as composers or performers.


On a Heroic Note
"'Heroes'"[1] is a song written by David Bowie and Brian Eno in 1977. Produced by Bowie and Tony Visconti, it was released both as a single and as the title track of the album "Heroes". A product of Bowie's fertile "Berlin" period, life in the city was crystallized into a tale of two lovers who come together in the shadow of the "Wall of Shame" (though here "the shame was on the other side"). While not a huge hit in the UK or US at the time, "'Heroes'" has gone on to become one of Bowie's signature songs and is well known today for its appearance in numerous advertisements. It has been cited as Bowie's second most covered song after "Rebel Rebel".[2]
"Gotham City" is a song by R&B singer R. Kelly based on the fictional city of the same name. It was featured on the soundtrack to the film, Batman & Robin, and reached number nine on both the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 and Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs charts. The music video for the song was directed by Hype Williams. A remix version for the song was released with a video also directed by Williams. The music video is directed by Hype Williams.[2] Kelly is seen driving his motorcycle around New York City in the video, he also passes Time Square. Kelly also drives the Bat-mobile. The video for the remix is also directed by Hype Williams.
Vladimir John Ondrasik III[2] (born January 7, 1965), known by his stage name Five for Fighting, is an American singer and songwriter. He is best known for his piano-based rock, such as the Top 40 hits "Superman (It's Not Easy)" (2001), "100 Years" (2003) and "The Riddle" (2006). The music video was directed by Ramaa Mosley and premiered in June 2001. A scene from this video was filmed at Yonge Street and Richmond Street in Toronto, Ontario. At the end of the song's music video, John Ondrasik lies in bed with his own wife and son.
"Calling All Angels" is the title of a 2003 song by the rock band Train. It was included on the band's third studio album, My Private Nation, and produced by Brendan O'Brien. The song received mixed reviews from rock critics, with Ken Tucker of Entertainment Weekly giving the song a B+ and calling it "an anthemic hymn to commitment...that builds steadily to a gloriously clanging climax."[3] Matt Lee of the BBC was less impressed, describing the track as "pedestrian, the vocals soulless, even more so than" the band's biggest hit single, "Drops of Jupiter (Tell Me)".
The music of Star Wars was written by composer John Williams and performed by the London Symphony Orchestra for all six feature films, from 1977 to 2005. This encompasses both the original trilogy, the first three films, and the prequel trilogy, the last three films. As of July 2013, Lucasfilm President, Kathleen Kennedy, announced at Star Wars Celebration Europe that Williams would be returning once more to score Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens.[1] Williams' scores for the two existing trilogies count among the most widely known and popular contributions to modern film music. Additionally, music for Star Wars: The Clone Wars was written by Kevin Kiner, and further music has been composed for Star Wars video games and works in other media. The 2016 spinoff film Star Wars: Rogue One will be scored by Alexandre Desplat,[2] the first major Star Wars film not to use Williams.
The scores utilize an eclectic variety of musical styles, many culled from the Late Romantic idiom of Richard Strauss and his contemporaries that itself was incorporated into the Golden Age Hollywood scores of Erich Korngold and Max Steiner. While several obvious nods to Gustav Holst, William Walton and Igor Stravinsky exist in the score to Episode IV, Williams relied less and less on classicalreferences in the latter five scores, incorporating more strains of modernist orchestral writing with each progressive score. The reasons for Williams' tapping of a familiar Romantic idiom are known to involve Lucas' desire to ground the otherwise strange and fantastic setting in well-known, audience-accessible music. Indeed, Lucas maintains that much of the trilogy's success relies, not on advanced visual effects, but on the simple, direct emotional appeal of its plot, characters and, importantly, music.[citation needed]
Star Wars often is credited as heralding the beginning of a revival of grand symphonic scores in the late 1970s. One technique in particular is an influence: Williams's revival of a technique called leitmotif, which is most famously associated with the operas of Richard Wagner and, in film scores, with Steiner. A leitmotif is a phrase or melodic cell that signifies a character, place, plot element, mood, idea, relationship or other specific part of the film. It is commonly used in modern film scoring as a device for mentally anchoring certain parts of a film to the soundtrack. Of chief importance for a leitmotif is that it must be strong enough for a listener to latch onto while being flexible enough to undergo variation and development.
A series of concerts which featured Star Wars music, Star Wars: In Concert, took place in 2009 and 2010. First performed in London, it went on to tour across the United Statesand Canada, last playing at London, Ontario, Canada on July 25, 2010.
Symphony No. 3 in E-flat major, Opus 55 (also Italian Sinfonia Eroica, Heroic Symphony) is a structurally rigorous composition of great emotional depth, which marked the beginning of the creative middle-period of the composer Ludwig van Beethoven.[1][2] The fourth movement is a set of variations on a theme, which Beethoven had used in earlier compositions; as the finale of the ballet The Creatures of Prometheus, Op. 43 (1801); then as the theme of the Variations and Fugue for Piano in E major, Op. 35 (1802), also called the Eroica Variations.
The subtitle Eroica Variations of Opus 35 derives from its thematic overlap with the fourth movement of this symphony. In the symphony proper, the thematic variations are structured like the piano variations of Opus 35: the bass line of the theme first appears and then is subjected to a series of strophic variations that lead to the full appearance of the theme proper. After a fugal treatment of the main theme the orchestra pauses on the dominant of the home key, and the theme is further developed in a new section marked Poco Andante. The symphony ends with a Presto coda which recalls the opening of the fourth movement and ends in a flurry of sforzandos. The fourth movement is between 10 and 14 minutes long.


LYRICS
Heroes
I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing will drive them away
We can beat them, just for one day
We can be Heroes, just for one day
And you, you can be mean
And I, I'll drink all the time
'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact
Yes we're lovers, and that is that
Though nothing, will keep us together
We could steal time,
just for one day
We can be Heroes, for ever and ever
What d'you say?
I, I wish you could swim
Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim
Though nothing,
nothing will keep us together
We can beat them, for ever and ever
Oh we can be Heroes,
just for one day
I, I will be king
And you, you will be queen
Though nothing will drive them away
We can be Heroes, just for one day
We can be us, just for one day
I, I can remember (I remember)
Standing, by the wall (by the wall)
And the guns shot above our heads
(over our heads)
And we kissed,
as though nothing could fall
(nothing could fall)
And the shame was on the other side
Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever
Then we could be Heroes,
just for one day
We can be Heroes
We can be Heroes
We can be Heroes
Just for one day
We can be Heroes
We're nothing, and nothing will help us
Maybe we're lying,
then you better not stay
But we could be safer,
just for one day
Oh-oh-oh-ohh, oh-oh-oh-ohh,
just for one day
Gotham City
I'm lookin' over the skyline of the city
How loud quiet nights in the mist of crime
How next door to happiness lives sorrow
And signals of solution in the sky
A city of justice, a city of love, a city of peace
For everyone of us
We all need it, can't live without it
A Gotham City, oh yeah
How sleepin' awake because of fear
(Oh yeah)
How children are drowning in their tears
How we need a place where we can go
A land where every one will have a hero
(Even me)
A city of justice, a city of love, a city of peace
For everyone of us
'Cause we all need it, yeah, can't live without it
A Gotham City, oh yeah
A city of justice, a city of love, a city of peace
For everyone of us
'Cause we all need it, can't live without it
A Gotham City, oh yeah
Yet in the middle of stormy weather
We won't stumble and we won't fall
I know a place that all this shelter
City of justice, city of love, city of peace
For everyone of us
We all need it, can't live without it
Gotham City, oh yeah
We need a city of justice, city of love, city of peace
For everyone of us
We all need it, can't live without it
Gotham City, oh yeah
City of justice, city of love, city of peace
For everyone of us
Yes, we all need it, can't live without it
Gotham City, oh yeah
A Gotham City
(Everybody needs Gotham City)
Gotham City
(Don't you want one, oh yeah)
Come on, come on, Gotham City
(Everybody needs Gotham City)
A Gotham City
(Don't you want one, oh yeah)


Its not easy (Superman)
I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
I'm just out to find
The better part of me
I'm more than a bird, I'm more than a plane
I'm more than some pretty face beside a train
And it's not easy to be me
I wish that I could cry
Fall upon my knees
Find a way to lie
Bout a home I'll never see
It may sound absurd but don't be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed but won't you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream?
And it's not easy to be me
Up up and away away from me
Well it's all right
You can all sleep sound tonight
I'm not crazy or anything
I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees
I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me
Inside of me, inside of me, yeah
Inside of me, inside of me
I'm only a man in a funny red sheet
I'm only a man looking for a dream
I'm only a man in a funny red sheet
And it's not easy, it's not easy to be me





Trains-Calling all angels
I need a sign, to let me know you're here
All of these lines are being crossed over the atmosphere
I need to know, that things are gonna look up
'Cause I feel us drowning in a sea spilled from a cup
When there is no place safe and no safe place to put my head
When you can feel the world shake from the words that are said
And I'm, calling all Angels
And I'm, calling all you Angels
And I won't give up, if you don't give up
I won't give up, if you don't give up
I won't give up, if you don't give up
I won't give up, if you don't give up
I need a sign to let me know you're here
'Cause my TV set just keeps it all from being clear
I want a reason for the way things have to be
I need a hand to help build up some kind of hope inside of me
And I'm, calling all Angels
And I'm, calling all you Angels
When children have to play inside, so they don't disappear
While private eyes solve marriage lies 'cause we don't talk for years
And football teams are kissing queens and losing sight of having dreams
In a world where what we want is only what we want until it's ours



Discord and Harmony
"Redemption Song" is a song by Bob Marley. It is the final track on Bob Marley & the Wailers' ninth album, Uprising, produced byChris Blackwell and released by Island Records.[2] The song is considered one of Marley's greatest works. Some key lyrics derived from a speech given by the Pan-Africanist orator Marcus Garvey.
At the time he wrote the song, circa 1979, Bob Marley had been diagnosed with the cancer in his toe that later took his life. According to Rita Marley, "he was already secretly in a lot of pain and dealt with his own mortality, a feature that is clearly apparent in the album, particularly in this song".
Unlike most of Bob Marley's tracks, it is strictly a solo acoustic recording, consisting of Marley singing and playing an acoustic guitar, without accompaniment. The song is in the key of G major.
"Redemption Song" was released as a single in the UK and France in October 1980, and included a full band rendering of the song. This version has since been included as a bonus track on the 2001 reissue of Uprising, as well as on the 2001 compilation One Love: The Very Best of Bob Marley & The Wailers. Although in live performances the full band was used for the song the solo recorded performance remains the take most familiar to listeners.[citation needed]
In 2004, Rolling Stone placed the song at #66 among The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. In 2010, the New Statesman listed it as one of the Top 20 Political Songs.[3]
With Bob accompanying himself on Guitar, "Redemption Song" was unlike anything he had ever recorded: an acoustic ballad, without any hint of reggae rhythm. In message and sound it recalled Bob Dylan. Biographer Timothy White called it an 'acoustic spiritual' and another biographer, Stephen Davis, pointed out the song was a 'total departure', a deeply personal verse sung to the bright-sounding acoustic strumming of Bob's Ovation Adamas guitar.
James Henke, author of Marley Legend
The FIFA Anthem or FIFA Hymn is played at the beginning of FIFA structured matches and tournaments such as international friendlies or the FIFA World Cup. It was first played at the 1994 World Cup. It was composed by Franz Lambert, and is instrumental with no lyrics.
"Nothing to My Name" (also known in as "I Have Nothing") is a 1986 Mandarin-language rock song by Cui Jian. It is widely considered Cui's most famous and most important work, and one of the most influential songs in the history of the People's Republic of China, both as a seminal point in the development of Chinese rock and roll and as a political sensation. The song was an unofficial anthem for Chinese youth and activists during the Tiananmen Square protests of 1989.
Both in its lyrics and instruments, the song mixes traditional Chinese styles with modern rock elements. In the lyrics, the speaker addresses a girl who is scorning him because he has nothing. However, the song has also been interpreted as being about the dispossessed youth of the time, because it evokes a sense of disillusionment and lack of individual freedom that was common among the young generation during the 1980s.
By the late 1970s, Western rock music was gaining popularity in mainland China. After the Cultural Revolution ended in the mid-1970s and the government began a period of economic reform called gaige kaifang, many students and businessmen went abroad and brought back Western music. Chinese singers began performing covers of popular Western rock songs.[1]
At the same time, Chinese society and the Chinese government were quickly abandoning Maoism, and promoting economic policies that had a more capitalist orientation.[2] Many Chinese teens and students were becoming disillusioned with their government, which they felt had abandoned its ideals.[3] Because of the rapid economic changes, many of them felt that they had no opportunities and no individual freedom.[4] These developments formed the background against which "Nothing to My Name" appeared in 1986.
Cui Jian was heavily influenced by Western artists such as Bob Dylan, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and Talking Heads;[5] in the late 1980s he even performed with a hair style modeled on that of John Lennon.[6] In "Nothing to My Name" and other songs, he intentionally altered the sounds of traditional Chinese musical instruments by mixing them with elements of rock music, such as electric guitar.[7] He also purposely divorced his musical style from that of the revolutionary songs and proletarian operas that were common under Chairman Mao Zedong during the Cultural Revolution—for example, he performed his music very loud, as high as 150 decibels, just because Mao had considered loud music disruptive to the social order. Throughout the song, the narrator addresses an unidentified girl, asking "When will you come with me", and lamenting the fact that she laughs at him for having nothing to his name.[11] He tells her he wants to give her his hopes and bring her freedom, that "the earth is turning under your feet" and "the waters of life are flowing free", yet she persists in scorning him.[11] He asks why she laughs at the pack he carries on his back, and he wonders why he keeps on going, with nothing to his name.[11] At last, he tells her that he has waited for a long time, and that this is his final plea: he wants to grab her by the hands, to "take you away with me".[11] As he sees her hands tremble, and her eyes "overflow with tears", he asks her, "Do you really mean to tell me, you love me as I am?"[11]
Interpretations of the song's meaning vary from one listener to the next; some people view it as a song about love and desire, while others understand it as a political metaphor, the lyrics being addressed as much to the Chinese nation as to a girlfriend.[12][13][14][15] University of Florida scholar Jonathan Matusitz describes the song's lyrics as a means of expressing politically sensitive ideas that could not be stated through any other medium.[16] In this interpretation, the lyrics near the beginning, "I've asked you without end / When will you go with me / But you always laughed at me / for having nothing to my name" ("我曾经问个不休/你何时跟我走/可你却总是笑我/一无所有") are taken to express the "humiliation and lack of individuality, possession, and personal freedom",[11] the "sense of loss and disorientation" among China's youth in the 1980s.[17] Ethnomusicologist Timothy Brace has described this common analysis of the song lyrics as "recast[ing] the setting of this piece from that of a boy talking to his girlfriend to that of a youthful generation talking to the nation as a whole." The ambiguity is heightened by the structure of the phrase yī wú suŏ yŏu, an idiomatic chengyu. It literally means "to have nothing" and has no grammatical subject. Therefore, it can be interpreted as meaning "I have nothing" (implying that it is a song about two people), or "we have nothing" (understanding it as social commentary).[18][19]
The narrator of the song worries that the girl he is addressing will ignore him because he has nothing to give her; likewise, the song's audience in the 1980s—young students and workers—were also suffering from not having resources to marry, to be with their girlfriends and boyfriends, or to attract members of the opposite sex.[4] The lyrics also express Western concepts of individualism,[20] and were some of the first popular song lyrics in China to promote self-expression and self-empowerment. This put the song in stark contrast with older music, which had emphasized conformity and obedience.[3] As the narrator, later on in the song, confidently proclaims to the girl that he will "grab her hands" ("我要抓起你的双手") and then she will go with him ("这就跟我走"), he suggests in the end that she can love the fact that he has nothing ("莫非你是正在告诉我/爱我一无所有"). On one level, this suggests that the song is about "love conquering all",[21] but the line has also been interpreted as threatening, and suggestive of an unorthodox and "Dionysian" mix of love and aggression.[22]
Just as Cui adapts traditional Chinese sounds and instruments to a new format, in "Nothing to My Name" he also reappropriates traditional Chinese lyrical tropes. The lines "The earth under your feet is moving / The water around your body is flowing" ("脚下的地在走/边的水在流") are reminiscent of the use of natural imagery in classical Chinese poetry and music, but here are intended to evoke the events going on around the song's listeners, and to provoke them to rebel against the established order.
It’s a small World After all was a song by the SSherman brothers in 1963 for attraction of the same name it was played in movies of the Lion King and the Return of Jafar And television programmes like the muppet show and Walt Disney anthology seris.
"The Internationale" (French: "L'Internationale") is a widely-sung left-wing anthem. It has been one of the most recognizable and popular songs of the socialist movement since the late 19th century, when the Second International (now the Socialist International) adopted it as its official anthem. The title arises from the "First International", an alliance of socialist parties formed by Marx andEngels which held a congress in 1864. The author of the anthem's lyrics, Eugène Pottier, attended this congress.
The original French refrain of the song is C'est la lutte finale / Groupons-nous et demain / L'Internationale / Sera le genre humain.(English: "This is the final struggle / Let us group together and tomorrow / The Internationale / Will be the human race.") "The Internationale" has been translated into many languages. It is often sung with the left hand raised in a clenched fist salute and is sometimes followed (in English-speaking places) with a chant of "The workers united will never be defeated." "The Internationale" has been celebrated by socialists, communists, anarchists, democratic socialists, and social democrats.
The original French words were written in June 1871 by Eugène Pottier (1816–1887, previously a member of the Paris Commune)[1] and were originally intended to be sung to the tune of "La Marseillaise".[2] Pierre De Geyter (1848–1932) set the poem to music in 1888.[3] His melody was first publicly performed in July 1888[4] and became widely used soon after.
The Symphony No. 11 in G minor (Opus 103; subtitled The Year 1905) by Dmitri Shostakovich was written in 1957 and premiered, by the USSR Symphony Orchestra underNatan Rakhlin, on 30 October 1957. The subtitle of the symphony refers to the events of the Russian Revolution of 1905.
The symphony was conceived as a popular piece and proved an instant success in Russia—his greatest, in fact, since the Leningrad Symphony just over a decade earlier.[1] The work's popular success, as well as its earning him a Lenin Prize in April 1958, marked the composer's formal rehabilitation from the Zhdanov Doctrine of 1948.
A month after the composer had received the Lenin Prize, a Central Committee resolution "correcting the errors" of the 1948 decree restored all those affected by it to official favor, blaming their treatment on "J.V. Stalin's subjective attitude to certain works of art and the very adverse influence exercised on Stalin by Molotov, Malenkov and Beria."
The finale begins with a march, (again repeating material from the climax of the second movement), which reaches a violent climax, followed by a return to the quietness of the opening of the symphony, introducing a haunting cor anglais melody. After the extended solo, the bass clarinet returns to the earlier violence, and the orchestra launches into a march once again. The march builds to a climax with snare drum and chimes in which the tocsin (alarm bell or warning bell) rings out in a resilient G minor, while the orchestra insists a G major. In the end, neither party wins, as the last full orchestra measure is a sustained G natural, anticipating the future events of 1917.
"Light & Day", also known as "Section 9 (Light & Day/Reach for the Sun)", is a single from The Beginning Stages of... by The Polyphonic Spree.
The song has been used several times in popular culture - once in an episode of Scrubs, once in an episode of Undone, the documentary Murderball, an episode of Chuck, in advertisements for the supermarket Sainsbury's, as well as most recently being the theme song in the trailer for the 2012 film adaptation of Dr.Seuss' The Lorax. In April 2010, research conducted by PRS for Music revealed that the song was the most performed in UK Television advertising.[1]
The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind DVD includes a music video for the song, featuring scenes from the movie altered so that both the main actors (Carrey and Winslet), as well as various inanimate background elements of the movie (a brain scan, a plate of vegetables, a house), appear to be lip-syncing to the song.
LYRICS
REDEMPTATION SONG BOB MARLEY
Old pirates, yes, they rob I,
Sold I to the merchant ships,
Minutes after they took I
From the bottomless pit.
But my 'and was made strong
By the 'and of the Almighty.
We forward in this generation
Triumphantly.
Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom?
'Cause all I ever have,
Redemption songs,
Redemption songs.
Emancipate yourself from mental slavery,
None but our self can free our minds.
Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them can stop the time.
How long shall they kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look?
Some say it's just a part of it,
We've got to fulfill de book.
Won't you help to sing
These songs of freedom?
'Cause all I ever have,
Redemption songs,
Redemption songs,
Redemption songs.
Emancipate yourself from mental slavery,
None but our self can free our mind.
Have no fear for atomic energy,
'Cause none of them can stop the time.
How long shall dey kill our prophets,
While we stand aside and look?
Some say it's just a part of it,
We've got to fulfill de book.
Won't you help to sing,
These songs of freedom?
'Cause all I ever had,
Redemption songs.
All I ever had,
Redemption songs
These songs of freedom
Songs of freedom
 LIGHT AND DAY POLYPHONIC SPREE
Light & day, is more than you'll say
'Cause all my feelings are more
Than I can let by or not it's more than you've got
Just follow the day, follow the day and reach for the sun
Follow the day and reach for the sun
You don't see me fly into the red, one more you're done
Just follow the seasons and find the time, reach for the bright side
You don't see me fly into the red, one more you're nuts
Just follow the day, follow the day and reach for the sun
Follow the day, follow the day and reach for the sun
You don't see me fly into the red, one more you're done
Just follow the seasons and find the time, reach for the bright side
You don't see me fly into the red, one more you're nuts
Just follow the day, follow the day and reach for the sun
Follow the day, follow the day and reach for the sun
Follow the day, follow the day and reach for the sun








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