sciencefictiongallery:

Alan Bean - The hammer and the feather, 1987.

sciencefictiongallery:

Alan Bean - The hammer and the feather, 1987.

5centsapound:

Subotzky’s book on Pointe City is finally being released tomorrow! I deeply respect and admire their careful, compassionate and deeply conscious relationship to the communities they work with, and their approach to photography as a whole. Hear Subotzky speak through poetry and empathy on his work at a TEDx talk here.

Mikhael Subotzky & Patrick Waterhouse: Pointe City, Johannesberg South Africa.

Mikhael Subotzky and Patrick Waterhouse spent much of the years 2008, 2009 and 2010 engaged in the quixotic task of taking a photograph out of every window, of every internal door, and of every television-set in Ponte City. This circular 54-story building has been the subject of their three-year investigation of its structure and its position as the crucible of Johannesburg´s urban mythology.

Pointe City Background (from Artist’s Website):

The fifty-four-storey Ponte City building dominates Johannesburg’s skyline, its huge blinking advertising crown visible from Soweto in the south to Sandton in the north. When it was built in 1976 – the year of the Soweto uprisings – the surrounding flatlands of Berea, Hillbrow and Yeoville were exclusively white, and home to young middle-class couples, students and Jewish grandmothers. Ponte City was separated by apartheid urban planning from the unforgettable events of that year. But as the city changed in anticipation and response to the arrival of democracy in 1994, many residents joined the exodus towards the supposed safety of the northern suburbs, the vacated areas becoming associated with crime, urban decay and, most of all, the influx of foreign nationals from neighbouring African countries.

Ponte’s iconic structure soon became a symbol of the downturn in central Johannesburg. The reality of the building and its many fictions have always integrated seamlessly into a patchwork of myths and projections that reveals as much about the psyche of the city as it does about the building itself. Tales of brazen crack and prostitution rings operating from its car parks, four storeys of trash accumulating in its open core, snakes, ghosts and frequent suicides have all added to the building’s legend. Some of these stories are actually true, and for quite some time most of the residents were indeed illegal immigrants. And yet, one is left with the feeling that even the building’s notoriety is somewhat exaggerated – that its decline is just as fictional as its initial utopian intentions were misplaced and unrealized. 

>continue reading overview

Also see Subotzky’sother projects here, and here

magictransistor:

Asa Smith. Celestial Illustrations from Smith’s Illustrated Astronomy. 1851.

Contd. from here

West Texas movie posters

ronaldcmerchant:

CAPTAIN VIDEO,MASTER OF THE STRATOSPHERE (1951)

ronaldcmerchant:

CAPTAIN VIDEO,MASTER OF THE STRATOSPHERE (1951)

Frontage road ceviche is better with Conan the Destroyer flaming out over the bar.

magictransistor:

Manuscript Containing Allegorical and Medical Drawings. Zodiac Man, Bloodletting Chart, A Man Called Microcosmus, A Man Called Macrocosmus, The Tree of Virtue, The Tree of Babylon (Vice), The Wheel of Fortune, The Earth and The Seven Planets (top to bottom). Germany. 1410.

magictransistor:

Theodore de Bry. Illustration for Hariot’s A Brief and True Report of the New Found Land of Virginia. 1590.

magictransistor:

Theodore de Bry. Illustration for Hariot’s A Brief and True Report of the New Found Land of Virginia. 1590.

businessweek:

Scotland’s independence drive is over, but has the rest of Europe caught secession fever? 

Free Transylvania!

businessweek:

Scotland’s independence drive is over, but has the rest of Europe caught secession fever

Free Transylvania!

Friday morning in the Anthropocene, after the deluge.

The river fills overnight with seven inches of rain, back within its banks, barely, by sunup.

Whole schools of shad dead on the trail like bags of strange coins. Forests of August’s invasive ragweed laid down in supplication to the power of the water. The water that brings all the trash from the million and a half people living just upriver.

The river runs brown and foamy, carrying unexpected manmade leviathans in its toxic clouds. The herons and egrets don’t care about the poison. They gather on the high banks, taking advantage of nature upended, of all the big bass and carp and cats used out of their watergrass dens, dumped out through the spillway.

One stands guard, primping in a dead tree after a long night’s feast, casting a long shadow in the secret woodlands under the flightpath.

Your dogs see a big log moving in the water. They think they have a bead on the Loch Ness Monster. Good day for long leads.

You find a box turtle upside down and dead still. It looks like it’s given up, but when you flip it over it comes back to life.

Navigating your way home through the alluvial eddies of backyard trash, you wonder what the remains will look like when this age of plastic bottle habitat has come to an end.

The dark heart of the state joins you in celebrating the 13th birthday of the continuing emergency.

You can be a robot man and a pseudo-prep all at the same time.

This promotional video for Ralph Lauren’s new wearable tech T-shirt channels the training scenes from Rocky 4—Dolph Lundgren as the poster boy for the “quantified self.”  And the perfect biopolitically regulated machine of the state.  

In the Ralph Lauren video the computer voice of your clothes tells you to work harder.  Wait til they integrate it with the job instead of the gym.  

Extra credit: training montage from Rocky IV.  

Network theory—How El Chapo evaded communications surveillance after getting nabbed in Los Cabos in early 2012 (by unwisely assuming his Blackberry, being Canadian rather than a gringotech satphone, was harder for the US to surveil):

"Like bin Laden, he might have chosen to rely on couriers.  But a courier system is too inefficient for the fast pace of the narcotics trade, and so, as U.S. and Mexican authorities eventually discovered, Chapo devised an elaborate solution. In the past, he had occasionally restricted his contact with others in the cartel by relaying his commands through a proxy. For a time, a woman known as La Voz (the Voice) served as his gatekeeper, sending and receiving messages on his behalf. After Los Cabos, Guzmán reinstated this arrangement, but with additional precautions. If you needed to communicate with the boss, you could reach him via B.B.M., BlackBerry’s instant-messaging application. (Guzmán had apparently learned to read and write well enough to communicate in the shorthand of instant messages.) Your message would go not directly to Guzmán, however, but to a trusted lieutenant, who spent his days in Starbucks coffee shops and other locations with public wireless networks. Upon receiving the message, the lieutenant would transcribe it onto an iPad, so that he could forward the text using WiFi—avoiding the cellular networks that the cartel knew the authorities were trolling. The transcribed message would be sent not to Guzmán but to a second intermediary, who, also using a tablet and public WiFi, would transcribe the words onto his BlackBerry and relay them to Guzmán. Although Guzmán continued to use a BlackBerry, it was almost impossible to track, because it communicated with only one other device. When he received your message, his reply would be relayed back to you through the same indirect means. Many members of the cartel did not realize that when they wrote to the boss and received an answer, every word had been transmitted via two intermediaries. This is sometimes described as a “mirror” system, and it is fiendishly difficult for authorities to penetrate (especially when the transcribers keep moving from one WiFi hot spot to another). Nevertheless, by studying the communications patterns of the cartel, analysts at the Special Operations Division of the D.E.A. eventually grasped the nature of the arrangement.”

From “The Hunt for El Chapo,” by Patrick Radden Keefe, at The New Yorker