Wednesday, 14 September 2011
On optimism
Sunday, 11 September 2011
English Encounters
Trains from Gatwick to Reading were not running due to a tree on the tracks, passengers were advised to travel via Clapham Junction, the announcement said. It sounded like the tree would be there for quite a while.
I travelled together with a clergyman in his seventies who as a young boy felt attracted by the singing in church. To him, to say mass was a performance, and he loved it. Practising rituals does advance spirituality, he said.
The next day, in a second-hand bookstore in Falmouth, I bought Alan Bennett's „Four Stories“, my first book by this author. One of the stories happened to be about a memorial service and once again I was told that what is taking place in church is a performance: „Whatever else it is“, he had told the Board, „a congregation is first and foremost an audience. And I am the stand-up. I must win them over.“ It was so obvious that I could not stop wondering that I had never thought of it.
In Guildford, the train to Gatwick filled up. A large group of young men, all sporting the same T-shirt and beer cans stormed the until then quiet wagon I was in. Are you some sort of club? I asked the guy sitting next to me. A stag party, the guy over there gets married and so we're going to a beer festival in Cologne. When's your flight? I inquired. At two ten, with Easyjet. Are you on the same flight? Fortunately not, I replied. He and his colleague grinned.
Wednesday, 7 September 2011
The purpose of the news
Herbert J. Gans, Sociologist
Sunday, 4 September 2011
Leonardo da Vinci
Wednesday, 31 August 2011
The good photograph
In January 2005, a team of Malian and U.S. photographers guided twenty-two sixth graders from Mali in an exploration of the power of photography through camera basics, then the students put to work their newly acquired skills and portrayed the people and traditions of their community, two small villages 500 miles southwest of Timbuktu, Damy and Kouara. Forty-nine black and white images from the project were on display at the Fowler Museum at UCLA from 19 December 2007 to 11 March 2008 in the exhibition "Visual Griots of Mali." Some of these impressive shots you will find here
It looks like it does not seem to take much to take good pictures - sometimes a bit of guiding will do, sometimes you won't even need that.
So what then distinguishes a photographer from someone who simply is taking good photographs? Working on the images, I remember the angry comment of a student. And the preparation that goes into the picture taking, I would add.
But that surely isn't picture taking, that is picture making.
Well, quite some say, all photography is picture making: what you choose to focus on, what to frame, what film you use, what angle, what light you select etc.
Not so, others argue, this is nothing but the art of taking pictures; making pictures is different, it comes after the picture has been taken, and means to photoshop, or to working on a negative.
Whatever you want to call it: it is possible that an amateur can shoot a perfect picture. So what then is the difference between a good shot of an amateur and a good shot of a professional? There isn't any. Nevertheless, in real life there are only few amateurs who sometimes come up with a good shot.
Since anybody can take a good photo, what then makes somebody a photographer? Well, said one of the students during a workshop on visual literacy in Nykarleby, Western Finland: I can also bake and occasionally come up with new creations yet I wouldn't call myself a baker because of it. Put differently: A baker's life revolves around baking, a photographer's life around photography.
The point is not what somebody is potentially able to do, the point is what (s)he does.
***
I must admit that I'm often not terribly interested in what a photographer wants to show me, what his intention was, or what goal he pursued. I'm more interested in what a photo does to me. In this respect, this picture here
is singular. It hit me, it hurt me, I felt irresistibly drawn to what Roland Barthes called „this mark made by a pointed instrument“. How come? I can't really say but I guess it has something to do with the fact that I grew up in the time of the Vietnam War and always had great sympathy for (and romantic notions of) Southeast Asians. Then I learned that it shows an unidentified child prisoner of the Khmer Rouge, photographed before execution, the date is not known. It was taken by an unknown photographer at the Tuol Sleng torture center. I can't recall another photo (except the one of Kim Phuc) that left me so deeply moved. And, how do I explain that? I surmise it has probably less to do with what the picture shows and more with what I bring to it. In other words, it has to do with the pictures (the film, really) it conjures up in my head, and with what these pictures create – feelings of pity, and of helplessness, the wish to have been able to protect the girl as well as anger, contempt and revulsion towards her executioners.But is this picture a good photograph?
To me it is – because I can't take my eyes off it, because it touches me deeply, because it makes my mind wander, and wonder. And, because it is one of these rare pics that have left their mark on me, that have become part of my visual memory, and that continue to accompany me.
Sunday, 28 August 2011
Jan Cornelius & Miroslav Barták
Ich google mich selbst. Wenn ich schlimme Sehnsucht nach meinem Freund habe, google ich auch ihn.
Aus dem Internet-Chat
Google sei Dank bin ich heute nicht nur cleverer, sondern auch gebildeter denn je! Früher wusste ich nicht, wer Goethe oder Mozart waren, aber heute weiß es Google für mich. Wozu sich denn solche Dinge merken, wenn die Wahrscheinlichkeit eines Tages Alzheimer zu bekommen relativ groß ist. Wer es nicht glaubt, der sollte mal Google fragen!
Auch wird mein Alltag durch Google erheblich erleichtert. Heute Morgen zum Beispiel stieg ich aus dem Bett und wusste nicht, wie das Wetter war, weil die Jalousien geschlossen waren. Da schaltete ich den PC ein, gab bei Google den Begriff Wetter plus Wohnort ein, und schon fand ich heraus, dass draußen die Sonne schien. Danach frühstückte ich gemütlich vor dem PC, und da ich ein Mensch bin, der über den eigenen Monitorrand hinausschaut, ergoogelte ich die aktuellen Preise der Butter in Buenos Aires und Sankt Petersburg, und verglich sie mit dem Preis der Butter, die ich mir gerade aufs Brot geschmiert hatte. Ja klar, bei uns war die Butter wieder mal am allerteuersten. Doch immer nur klagen hilft nicht, also ergoogelte ich die Kontaktadresse der Kanzlerin und schickte ihr eine E-Mail-Beschwerde.
Auf der schwierigen Suche nach mir selbst habe ich mich früher des öfteren auf die Couch des Psychoanalytikers gelegt. Wenn ich jedoch heute etwas über mich erfahren möchte, dann frage ich Google, denn, um die Datenschützer zu zitieren: „Google weiß mehr über dich als du selbst“.
Ja, Google weiß alles. Google ist mein bester Freund, und ich verbringe täglich viele schöne Stunden mit ihm, so um die 8 bis 10, daher ist meine Frau ziemlich eifersüchtig. Nun ja. Sorry, dass ich es jetzt so sagen muss, aber Google ist einfach tausendfach gebildeter und unterhaltsamer als sie. Von seinem Bekanntheitsgrad mal ganz zu schweigen. Gestern gab ich den Begriff Google bei Google ein und landete damit sage und schreibe zweimilliardenfünfzigmillionen Treffer. Dann ergoogelte ich meine Frau und landete null Treffer. Wozu sie dann überhaupt noch ernstnehmen? Ich gehe ab jetzt einfach mal davon aus, dass es sie gar nicht gibt.
Jan Cornelius & Miroslav Barták
Über Google, Gott und die Welt
Satirische Streifzüge
Mit Cartoons von Miroslav Barták
Pop Verlag, Ludwigsburg 2011
ISBN: 978-3-86356-017-5
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
The path to material success
J.M. Coetzee: Summertime



