Tehachapi, CA
journal, august 1st
"july didn't even say goodbye. the years don't kiss you goodnight anymore. they just leave behind this empty space, a phantom pain. and still i ache, i ache, i ache!"
An empty frame where Rembrandt’s The Storm on the Sea of Galilee, circa 1633, once was, stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum March 18, 1990.
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Todd Hido
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There is an "underneath" for this "overneath", as this is simply a glassine key for a relatively complicated photo showing a group of meteorological instruments1. Taken out of context, though, the overlay without the reference image takes on quite a different and appealingly Dada-like complexion, an artful canvas of enumerated blankness...that, or a rendering of unregulated numbers in the wild, a capture of herding physical numbers. Do numbers exist? Are there points in space, and lines, and planes, floating out there just beyond our knowledge like Arthur C. Clarke-like monoliths or Abbott's Flatland objects? Well, no. But it is enjoyable to find these printed forms that, if we look at them in a certain way and allow for a bit of fancy, take on a life of their own. (What a funny thing it would be if numbers had names other than their number-- for example, "3" is the form only but its name is a taste or smell, or "Borges", or the bubble 44,332 in the head of a pint of Guinness, or a particular wavelength...that could spice things up.)
A History of Blank, Missing, and Empty Things, Part 48: Numbers Numbering Nothing (via JF Ptak Science books)
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billboards (wrong side of the road) © Ramírez-Suassi
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stoicremains-deactivated2017102
I was as hollow and empty as the spaces between stars.
Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye (via whyallcaps)