1. medverf:

    Benjamin Butler

     
  2. medverf:

    James Hyde

     
  3. withoutyourwalls:

    Angel Otero, Laughing Clouds, 2011

     

  4. (Source: warrenellis, via robray)

     
  5. Tagged #cole pierce
     
  6. Superclusters – regions of space that are densely packed with galaxies – are the biggest structures in the Universe. But scientists have struggled to define exactly where one supercluster ends and another begins. Now, a team based in Hawaii has come up with a new technique that maps the Universe according to the flow of galaxies across space. Redrawing the boundaries of the cosmic map, they redefine our home supercluster and name it Laniakea, which means ‘immeasurable heaven’ in Hawaiian.

    Read the research paper: http://dx.doi.org/10.1038/nature13674
    Read Nature’s news story: http://www.nature.com/news/earth-s-ne…

     
    Tagged #laniakea
     
  7. chadkouri:

    Rob Orchardson

     
  8. Mysterious Mountaintop
    http://instagram.com/p/tEPmIikxOz/

     

  9. fieldmic:

    This is excellent. Eric May reminisces on his teenage years in the 90’s rave scene in Chicago.  

    "20 years ago today I went to my first rave, the flyer for that party + fly­ers for (nearly all) of the par­ties I ever went to are below:

    eRave1eRave2eRave3eRave4eRave5eRave6eRave7eRave8eRave9eRave10eRave11eRave12eRave14eRave15eRave16eRave18

    Lady­bug was the one. We’d been col­lect­ing these trippy dig­i­tally designed fly­ers at our favorite record shops. With proper con­di­tions– driver’s licenses and the per­fect alibi of sleep­ing over at each other’s houses on Sat­ur­day nights before our 9 am Early Col­lege Pro­gram ceram­ics class at the School of the Art Insti­tute– we were able to make this a real­ity. We called the hot­line on the back of the flyer, which I believe led us to Wax Trax on Damen to buy tick­ets and get the address for a sec­ond check­point where we’d pick up a map to the actual loca­tion of the party. I can­not tell you where this party was– (though a post on this mes­sage board recounts it being a sub­ur­ban loca­tion and that it got busted, nei­ther details I recall) we pulled up on a des­o­lated stretch of an indus­trial cor­ri­dor and were hur­riedly waved down a dark alley by a shad­owy fig­ure, the tell­tale thump, thump, thump sig­nal­ing to us that we were headed on the right course and not about to get jumped.

    Once inside the ware­house, there was some famil­iar ambiance from our already-growing-up-too-fast-in-the-suburbs lifestyle– nitrous oxide tanks hiss­ing, inflat­ing giant punchy bal­loons and Lawn­mower Man being pro­jected onto a white sheet. The deeper we pen­e­trated the thick crowd though, things got con­sid­er­ably more exotic– club kids in three foot tall plat­form shoes, naked flesh, chill out rooms drip­ping with sex and out-in-the-open drug use. The main dance floor was a wall to wall throb of too loud bass and jack­ing bod­ies. This was an urban crowd and there were all kinds of peo­ple los­ing them­selves in the orgias­tic rhythm. I remem­ber not being intim­i­dated, not like my first indus­trial con­cert a few years before, but feel­ing exhil­a­rated and a lit­tle bit jit­tery. This was a safe space to get freaky. We let our­selves go and joined the pul­sat­ing hive.

    Unfor­tu­nately, the sub­se­quent 20 or so raves we attended were not quite as idyl­lic. At our sec­ond party, who did we run into within a half hour of step­ping foot into the ware­house, but the same ass­holes who were push­ing us down the stairs at school a few years ear­lier. The same kids that were cop­ping our Min­istry and Red Hot Chili Pep­per t-shirts, co-opting all of the sub­cul­tural expres­sions that we had to work so hard to dis­cover and estab­lish our­selves as dif­fer­ent than them and proud of it. Those were the times– Loll­palooza, alter­na­tive rock radio, recre­ational drugs– it was cool to be weird. At least we really were weird, and onto cool stuff a year or two before those jocks. There was a sea change in the rave scene. We’d been the first wave of sub­ur­ban kids gen­tri­fy­ing a vital urban cul­ture and it just kept going that way come 1995. The par­ties even moved to the sub­urbs, I remem­ber one in a park­ing lot of a truck­ing com­pany like a mile from my high school. I’m stoked we got to see a party like Lady­bug– to have a taste of the hal­cyon era of the early 90s that seemed to be the nat­ural pro­gres­sion of the utopia of House. Sure there were other good nights– the right con­coc­tion of a good buzz, cute looks, and com­mu­nal vibes focused on the dance. But for the most part, when these par­ties weren’t get­ting shut down by the cops, they looked like open air drug mar­kets with zomb­i­fied sub­ur­ban kids, dress­ing the part with the over­sized polos and visors, becom­ing prey to dope ped­dlers (per­haps con­nected with the pro­mot­ers) who scammed their parent’s cash in exchange for god-knows-what (the ecstasy was expen­sive, we could never afford designer drugs after shelling out $20– $25 at the door. My only cash flow at the time was sell­ing Fimo beads at school). This was not PLUR, kids.

    But I’m glad I was there. I took pride in pulling together out­ra­geous out­fits– the over­sized plas­tic wal­let chains, GIANT pants, tiny tops repur­posed from stuffed ani­mals, all sorts of home made jew­elry. Inclu­siv­ity and indi­vid­u­al­ity were the high­est pri­or­ity val­ues for me through­out my teens and early twen­ties and I con­stantly desired sup­port­ive scenes. This was cer­tainly a major appeal of Ox-Bow for me. There’s some­thing prag­matic about the utopia of the rave– for one night, no mat­ter who you were, you could dress up, get high, and dance and every­one around you was a part of this whole. In the morn­ing, you’d drive home, go to bed, wake up and go back to work or school. The one nighter.

    And of course, the music. Since mov­ing to the city (17 years ago!), I’ve come to savor the imper­sonal, some­times harsh qual­ity of elec­tronic music, it reflects the land­scape. Herein lies the other dystopic/utopic flip of rave– an embrace of the urban sit­u­a­tion. Redi­rect­ing the iso­lat­ing hos­til­ity of city life and mak­ing a party of it. Back then it was nigh impos­si­ble to fig­ure out what we were danc­ing to. I was too shy to approach the DJ booth (and back then in the white label era, DJs guarded their tracks) so mix­tapes were the only access to tak­ing the jams home. In my two years rav­ing, the music changed a lot as well. At Lady­bug and my other few favorite par­ties, the DJs were play­ing hard, min­i­mal house sounds and some­times nudg­ing into faster Euro­pean techno. If you look at the fly­ers and know these DJ names, it will make sense as you scroll, I pre­ferred the Chicago vets like Der­rick Carter and Mys­tic Bill. Terry Mullen and Hyper­ac­tive were the two we fol­lowed most closely and they were very pro­lific at the time. I col­lected all of the Hyper­ac­tive mixes, which were a mix of old school Chicago acid house and more con­tem­po­rary hard­core. By 95 every­thing was get­ting faster and harder and there were more and more Euro­pean DJs fly­ing in from the Dutch, Bel­gian, and Ger­man hard­core scenes. And then jun­gle hap­pened which seemed to divide the scene fur­ther by 96. I like all of these styles, but the old school Chicago will always be close to my heart. I could lis­ten to Acid Tracks every­day and it would sound dif­fer­ent every time– cold and alien, yet seduc­tively organic. We are Phuture you can’t defeat us.

    I started DJing about 10 years ago and have col­lected a lot of old school Chicago stuff by dig­ging through every­thing I can find on labels like Trax, Dance­ma­nia, and Relief/ Cajual. Also, for­tu­nately, on web­sites like ravearchive.com you can down­load many of these clas­sic mix tapes + with the handy tech­nol­ogy of Shazam, I’ve been able to hunt down a bunch of the clas­sic dance floor bangers of the era. Here’s a list of my favorite rave jams:

    Phuture– Acid Tracks

    And of course the flyer art. If you scroll up and down this blog, you will see the last­ing impres­sion bad old dig­i­tal design will always have on my work.”

    Eric May is an artist and director of Roots & Culture, and the chef at Oxbow Artist Residency

    Tagged #eric may
     
  10. Steve Ruiz, Material Matters catalog essay, NEIU

     
  11. immutebutton:

    from the only issue of the Russian fashion magazine Atelier (1923) via 50watts

    (Source: 50watts.com, via dizarrebisco)

     
  12.  
  13. #studio 12”x12”

    Tagged #studio
     

  14.  
  15. #margincreep

    Tagged #margincreep