I love this photograph. I love this stunt. I love the idea of the success of failure. Obviously this stunt was designed to play out exactly as we see it in this photograph, a complete, wonderful disaster. Although taken here to an extreme and dangerous level, it is nice to see such a forward example of embracing failure.
When I was in grade school I used to perform my own version of this stunt on my bike for my classmates—by jamming my foot in between the fork and the front wheel and then leaping over the bars. Maybe, subconciously, my audience appreciated the contradiction that made my trick so entertaining, but I imagine they were just like little NASCAR fans hoping to see me bust my ass.
Failure is not necessarily bad and I’d say that unless someone is getting hurt or set on fire or ruining motorcycles (and somtimes even then), it is a positive thing. It is too easy to get completely wrapped up in the bullshit of perfecting details to the point where something never gets finished. I’m getting to the point where I’d rather just drive into a van.
Note: If you know the provenance of this image please let me know.
Another one from the AGO.
In their Galleria Italia, I walked the length of a wood and sap sculpture by Italian artist Guiseppe Penone. Apparently this is one room (for a specifically Italian gallery all of the installations look decidedly Canadian…wood, you know) in the AGO that is specifically “photo approved.” In any gallery I tend to assume every room is photo approved until I get told otherwise, which I did, shortly before leaving. This was a coincidence.
My wife and I visited the AGO (about half a block away from our place) on X-Mas Eve. I made a snarky little note on one of the public feedback/artback kiosks. My wife rolled her eyes and we went on, until we saw…
Snark vindication!
I have to admit that I really like the new building, although I am disappointed that an architecture-pleb like me called this one while sitting at a kiddie table drawing smiley faces. I feel that fashion aside, a buildings first priority should be to keep the elements out, and in the name of A-R-T especially.
Regret: Not having photos of the completely shut down main staircase in the Daniel Libeskind designed Denver Art Funnel (which I don’t have to admit that I like, as opposed to the AGO).
With my other steeds in Toronto, I found myself needing to build a commuter. I’m not a huge fan of fixed gears in the winter, and I don’t feel like doing much adjusting, so a single speed it is. The base is an early to mid-90’s Bianchi, which was cobbled together in a rather poor fashion (the brake lever was attached with a length of leather rope). The hunt is on for some proper bits to make it comfortable and road worthy.
There is something about not having the option of riding a bike that has been making me crazy. I don’t mind taking the car when it is a choice, but when I have no other alternative it makes me grumpy—and pine for human propulsion.
Initially I thought I was going to make a project that would be some funny but small sliver of the Canadian identity. Touque (or toque or tuque) being both one of the first Canadian words that I learned and a very common one at that, I figured it was a good place to start. At the end of every winter day I spent in a touque, I was going to photograph its impact on my hair.
Unfortunately, rather than a clever self-reflective social comment it turned into a question of how long it would take me before I cut my hair.
Right now our little corner of Chinatown smells like burnt diarrhea. Or maybe tar mixed with the hay/poop smell from the giraffe house at the zoo. While this has no real impact on my well being, it is somewhat disturbing and makes dog walks even more poop-centric. It is sort of an olfactory disaster that nobody else walking around seems to be thinking about. It makes me wonder whether I am miss-smelling, overreacting, or just confused.
In Denver suburbs cold means a very chilly lack of smell, both welcome and somehow a little bit painful. It also means I will be driving. In Toronto, there are only three things that will keep me off my bike—snow, rain and the grayest gray days (I hate riding at dusk, and that is how it feels here far too often). Today, though, I found myself trying to keep moving, which is impossible with the traffic/lights downtown here…everytime I have to stop my glasses fog up, and I cry freezing tears.
Hey Tim—you look tired. Are you enjoying your new desk? What about that other art director—do you think he is going to quit soon? Remember how I tried to keep you from getting hit by that train? I guess I should have figured that you knew what you were doing, but I know how you are.
You say you are having a busy month, but I wonder if that maybe you just forgot what it was like to be truly busy and you honestly do have enough time to talk about the book with me. What are you doing right now? Probably eating yogurt or a choco-graham. I couldn’t imagine a better time to chat on the internet about an interesting project.
