Archive for Janeiro 2012

Ensaboadela




não gosto muito de gel de banho, nem de sabonetes líquidos e afins. compreendo que poderão ser mais práticos, às vezes também os uso e não me aborrece, mas parecem-se também mais artificiais e por isso uso sempre sabonetes. quanto mais naturais, melhor. nunca pensei muito no assunto, nem o racionalizei demasiado, é só uma coisa que faço.

até que

numa das passeatas pela blogosfera descobri um designer que tem um trabalho muito muito interessante e um deles passa, exatamente, pela atualização aos tempos modernos do uso dos sabonetes! vale a pena espreitar aqui (click).

também achei piada ao aspirador automático (click), às tomadas partilhadas (click) e já não me lembrava de ficar encantada por um objeto - na verdade - inútil como este memo block algures nesta página (click).

serão bem passado com o Dave.

 

 

10 quilos de património


o restante património aqui (click)

domingo

It's Sunday today, but it feels more like a "generic" day-or rather, it feels like what days must have felt like before we invented the seven days of the week. Imagine waking up in the morning and not knowing what day of the week it is. What a strange sensation that must have been. 

Hmmm-what day of the week is it? It's nothing. It's merely a day, a plain old day with no labels or meaning or anything. 

The Gum Thief, Douglas Coupland 

32.8


Plaza de Tribunal, Madrid
peça 32.8
 

 
The Cactus Plant (Interior Detail of Portuguese House, Truro Massachusetts), 1930

              
 
do americano walker evans
quem foi (click)

do irlandês gareth mcconnell
mais aqui (click)
 
 
My Grandfather's House, 2002
 
Photographs of interiors and details from a deceased relative's home, shortly before the contents were cleared for auction. The interior of the house is shrouded in darkness while outside daylight prowls. A distressed 1960s aesthetic; flock wallpaper, florid soft furnishings, chintz and kitsch in the form of a life's belongings, with all their intimate associations fall out of focus. The centres of domestic life; the kitchen sink, the bedroom, the dining table, the couch are emptied of familial presence and activity. They become diffused in an insistent light that strikes through blinds and curtains. Absence pervades, memories and daydreams form, drift and dissolve into a relentless present. 

Interiors and details from an abandoned undertaker's premises in Carrickfergus. The remains of rooms, where the deceased were prepared for burial, are preserved in their own state of decay. Damp walls rot, plaster cracks, papered surfaces succumb to fungal patina. Details on interior fittings echo images of the delicate trim on burial garments, palls and drapes. Almost all of these funereal rooms are tended by flowers. Flowers, and their abundant symbolisms, stretch through spaces mired in the conventions of death.