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Amy Elkins is a fine art photographer, curator and WIPNYC co-founder with roots in NOLA, NYC, LA & PDX. Repped by Yancey Richardson Gallery, NYC.
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Experimental new work…. Whilst I am Drawing Breath IV (973 Miles)
Paris Photo/LA
WIPNYC.ORG is excited to be back up and running! We are proud to present the work of Katherine Turczan. Take a look!
The Bonfire Band - It Gets Lonely Being Free.
This song is amazing. Holy shit.
Falling Stars
Been on a poetry kick this past week.. enjoying the new scenery in California and spent some time at the ocean’s edge late the other night to see a shooting star streak half way across the sky. Reminded me of one of my favorite poems by Rilke.
Falling Stars
Do you remember still the falling stars
that like swift horses through the heavens raced
and suddenly leaped across the hurdles
of our wishes—do you recall? And we
did make so many! For there were countless numbers
of stars: each time we looked above we were
astounded by the swiftness of their daring play,
while in our hearts we felt safe and secure
watching these brilliant bodies disintegrate,
knowing somehow we had survived their fall.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
“The proper response to life is applause.”
— ~William Carlos Williams
One of many favorites of my grandma Nancy and my grandpa Rudy circa 1940’s
TRACEY EMIN- You Loved Me Like a Distant Star, 2012
Lightwork 2013 A-I-R recipients announced
Super huge congrats to the 2013 Lightwork AIR recipients!
Image: Ofer Wolberger / Visitor
The Descent - William Carlos Williams
The Descent
The descent beckons
as the ascent beckoned.
Memory is a kind
of accomplishment,
a sort of renewal
even
an initiation, since the spaces it opens are new places
inhabited by hordes
heretofore unrealized,
of new kinds—
since their movements
are toward new objectives
(even though formerly they were abandoned).
No defeat is made up entirely of defeat—since
the world it opens is always a place
formerly
unsuspected. A
world lost,
a world unsuspected,
beckons to new places
and no whiteness (lost) is so white as the memory
of whiteness .
With evening, love wakens
though its shadows
which are alive by reason
of the sun shining—
grow sleepy now and drop away
from desire .
Love without shadows stirs now
beginning to awaken
as night
advances.
The descent
made up of despairs
and without accomplishment
realizes a new awakening:
which is a reversal
of despair.
For what we cannot accomplish, what
is denied to love,
what we have lost in the anticipation—
a descent follows,
endless and indestructible.
Experimental new work…. Whilst I am Drawing Breath IV (973 Miles)
Experimental new work…. Whilst I am Drawing Breath IV (973 Miles)
