A few months ago, I stumbled upon a black and white image of a starkly modernist clock me where on the internet. It was the central time piece of the Preston Bus Station, a terminal built in the late 1960s, and either an eyesore or a brutalist masterpiece, depending on who you ask. On the […]
Pure your gentle name, pure your fragile life, bees, shadows, fire, snow, silence and foam, combined with steel and wire and pollen to make up your firm and delicate being. – Pablo Neruda’s epitaph for Tina Modotti I dusted off my podcast and finally recorded the fourth episode of Available Light. This time, I am […]
“I guess I want to do the impossible and therefore I do nothing.” – Tina Mondotti
I just stumbled upon this sweeping 2007 review of Bolaño’s Savage Detectives by Daniel Zalewski of the New Yorker. It talks not just about the writer’s twisted and tragic life story, but also about his rejection of literary mainstream and his dislike for Magic Realism – only to introduce a new term that I couldn’t […]
Watched planes and had some ice cream in yet another modernist estate, before a thunderstorm swept in and people ran to the subway, panting on the cars with their coats dripping of summer rain.
I remember back in school when they threw a worksheet about the Bauhaus movement in front of us and it meant nothing to me. Attending art class inside a building that was your typical 1960s postwar fare, a structure seemingly carved out of a giant block of concrete, a lack of ornamentation meant little to […]