So here’s the recipe for your reference. (text from Popcorn Homestead)

Cut off the beet tops leaving a bit of stem. Plop the whole beet in a pan of water and boil until the cut easily with a knife. Word has it that you should not cut off the root or cut the beets in half (although I have done both) as it causes additional bleeding of the beet and flavor loss. I boiled for about 35 minutes.

Meanwhile, peel a number of garlic cloves. Most people who eat this like a fair amount of garlic, so even if you don’t use all of them you can use them later.

Drain the beets, and peel them under cold running water. The latter is especially nice if you’re peeling them right after boiling as they are quite hot. The peels should simply slide off under your fingers, and the tops should slide off or edge off easily, too. I would let them dry a little (maybe 10-15 minutes) before grating, if you can. Makes the dip a bit less soupy.

Grate the beets into a bowl. Grind the walnuts (about a 1/4 cup) and sprinkle over the grated beets. A good dollop of mayo and press in the garlic. Stir. Add mayo as you want the color and taste to change.

There are no measurements, I’m afraid. I make it to taste every time, so you just have to sample as you go. Do not use fat free mayo or olive oil or whatever without an experimental batch for yourself first. I’ve never had luck with alternatives for mayo, but you may.  I measured about 6 beets for one garlic.
Spoon into a bowl, chill (if you can) for a bit, and serve with crackers or bread.

From the wordpress twitter feed comes oobject.com, a sample of wordpress being used as a content management system.

After looking at it I see it as a great digg-like resource for all things design. These folks have taste and are astute enought to appease our list and classifcation fetishes on the web.

I have a friend named Tim, who I don’t see much of
Beautiful wife and a daughter the color of red apples and candy colored crayons of princess rayon
Black hair like her mother’s, with jelly soft features, the future is bright if she is what it features
Suburbanite gripes, gripping cool whips, pushing past the poetry of Detroit streets
Techno music or maybe electronic forms, breaking it down to underground basement alley drums
Rocking the peasant hats, friends with pornographic editors and peasant proprietors, all while versed in old school raps, the cool kid imitators
Shepard Fairy imitations, along with reproduced prints by Jean Michel Basquiat
A loose crew of bomb blasting , loud bass thumping, thumb ring rubbing, pull pin loving with one warning like ETA
Flying fairies on the lunch box of a princess, separated from himself like Basque bandits from the Vatican Eucharist shelf,
A subversive in sense but a normal and decent man. No war over which one has the final word because both have their innocence delivered in a baby bird with ladybug charms and chubby arms…
Ornithologist of mistakes that escape from cooped up fates, now soaring into a bright digital sky
That has passed the death of cool cassette tapes and black vinyl tracks, to boom past C.D paths and expand into an mp3 Lego land
Full thronged supporter of black aspirants and Amir Baracka, he too was once the wretched of the land
Stacks and stacks of fanon, Buddhist cannon, old mystics and newer classics all managing space in his corrugated iron left leaning thinking
His ascent from wild hedonistic ascetic to throat vibrating mystic chanter is telling in his fortunate belly
Swells like the didgeridoo brewing like coffee from his decanter, burning cigars are his lanterns
Off the puff clouds his feet must fly back to his photographer wife on double duty with sure doubts
Rescued cat, named after a revolutionary track master, and a powerful dog, named after my father and a prophet that railed against the taskmaster
And a black cat named after a communist march, and a balancing home budget
-On Sunday he is loving the tasks of the garden tax and building decks that tax checks invest
Shoring up the wealth of his castle in this suburb of hustle and home-
And a daughter around whom
His life revolves, like the earth around the moon
And the sun around the earth and the moon pulling the waves and spiting the seas’ shores
and his other loves, all sharing an equal plane in this assortment of stuff, such
As a mother and a father…
Old framed pictures of himself from the early past, cushioned in a pimp’s plush pudding
Riding around in the past but plugged into an iPod production, producing waves of raves
The kind with the ecstasy of a morning commute to a desk and a screen, with the scent of a dream
Hanging and dangling from the rearview scene
You might not have a great big fancy car, diamond in the big… digging the scene with a gangster lean
Just be thankful for your diamond in the back, gem by your side, ink dipped memories on your arm as you take that seat belted ride with booster seats inside
Gangster silver walls closing off the outside’s doors ensconced in a summer rush, with fragrant flowers dropping from the ceiling of your Porsche, must be the greatest feeling
In the world, a man with his happy family involved
Soccer father, closeted TV screen, screaming into the Mac computer unplugged from the warm colors of wood and laughter, reflecting the clean design that is careening off electronic and metronomic, arithmetic ergonomic, style reflexes that reflects in the horn rimmed lenses,
Chest of secrets that seat wonders of a childhood palace where we are safe from disaster, insured by the chanting of a wiser but ice blue father… cool with cold-blooded calm, returning the anxiety, with a balm of harmony, forming from rubbed palms
Ready to cry at the drop of a dime, reading and writing poetry one at a time, long into the night under the foundation of mundane household fascinations.
Beautiful wife, the happiest daughter… working everyday and still learning to be a man…

-akin

A few years back I went to an exhibit at the College for Creative Studies in Detroit focusing on notable modern graphic design. There was a section on The Walker Art Museum in Minneapolis, Target, and of course, Apple. Each section looked at the history and evolution of these different brands from a design perspective. It was cool.

A colleague of mine and I walked through the exhibit pretty quickly as we absorb design daily both consciously and unconsciously then we wandered around the lobby of CCS where there was a student exhibit showing. Some of it was dark and twisted and some of it flowery, but it had something the graphic design did not. My colleague pointed out how refreshing it was to look at art for art’s sake, rather than used as a tool to promote and advertise. Some of the darker paintings, complete with guns and blood from what I remember, had an honesty and soul. It was humble and personal. I felt a connection not only with the artist but an intimate part inside myself as I responded to my emotions created by the art.

Now, not only with the web, but with high-end inexpensive ink-jet technology, art is becoming more accessible, more prevalent, and more easily shared so we can all respond to the artist’s plea. Check out deviantart.com. It has the standard web community features but what is really innovative, is you can submit your art and also purchase art. It puts it in our hands, not the curators. You can choose from a postcard or a wall sized print, even a print on canvas. Cuddle up, this site is huge, you can spend hours on it. And come away inspired.

So its been over 3 months with this whole blogging thing. i’ve been places and each place i go i get sidetracked and keep coming back.

must focus.

when researching the vlogosphere i stumbled across this ex-patriot chap teaching in japan. its first rate. so transfixing to download the videos and feel the aura across the planet. there is a wealth of information here.

SUBMITTED BY WILLIAM WEY

There is a word that is constantly used when describing Banksy or his art.
Subversive:

In a downtown Los Angeles warehouse, an exhibition is taking place. There is a cozy living room installation with deep pink and gold colored wallpaper covering the wall. A woman is seated on the couch against the wall, she seems oblivious to “the elephant in the room”, and literally there is an elephant in the room. Standing a few feet from the seated woman, in the middle of the living room installation is a 10ft tall, 2 ton Indian elephant. The elephant has been painted the same color as the wallpaper, and she is busying herself with a pile of hay that she occasionally snacks from. The attendees of this free show react with a mix of marvel, curiosity and a few sad sighs for the elephant’s benefit. The Barely Legal exhibition (this is the shows title) is the brazen idea of the art upstart Banksy.

Banksy, has gained popularity over the last decade for his work. Born in Bristol, a city in southwest England, Banksy started as a free hand graffiti artist, tagging and bombing his city streets. As graffiti is illegal in Bristol, Banksy sought the advantage of stenciled art, giving otherwise unknown detail and features to his works, while remaining amazingly elusive to the authorities.

Describing Banksy as elusive is misleading. His real identity is not known
to the public. Not one to give press interviews, Banksy, whose headline
grabbing works have caused international wonderment, seemingly defies
popular thought by eschewing any personal attention that is not directed
completely at his art. In his few dealings with the media, Banksy has
requested that his physical image and voice be distorted, inadvertently (or
maybe purposefully) fueling public curiosity. Banksy is not without
facetiousness in his insistence on anonymity, in a self portrait he sent to
a magazine, a man, presumably Banksy, wearing a black sweater holds up a
rectangular white poster board that covers his upper chest and entire face.
Printed on the poster board is a picture of a man donning a similar black
sweater and a backwards turned hat, the face in the picture is pixilated!
The only clues Banksy leaves of his person are his works, and by the time
admirers, detractors or unwitting passers by become hip to the presence of a
“Banksy” on their walls, or on their streets, the self described “art
terrorist” is already carefully finishing his next statement.

“Banksy” is a tag line on the paint peeled walls of urban streets from
Bristol to Paris to Berlin. His moniker as well as his famous rats, which
play a starring role in many of his most striking graffiti, have become
inextricably linked to ideas of counter culture and culture jamming. Drawing
liberally from philosophies such as anarchism, his works seem to question
western social ideals of property ownership and capitalism while at the same
time juxtaposing their rejection to the realities of modern life. Humorously
making his point on profiteering, Banksy has a print that depicts an
assortment of alternative looking characters lined up behind a stall to
purchase thirty dollar t-shirts that read “destroy capitalism”.

The fodder for Banksy’s notoriety has quickly evolved from furor over the
content of his work to the audacity of his “stunts”. This is saying a lot
considering that some of his works might have been treasonable offenses had
they the unfortunate circumstance of being birthed a couple of centuries
ago. A now infamous painting depicting Queen Victoria as a lesbian seated
upon the face of another woman, while she imperiously holds out her scepter
over her supine subject was purchased by the pop singer Christina Aguilera.
Works such as these, as well as his stencil of two policemen locked in an
embrace while sharing a passionate kiss, had Banksy penciled as a curiosity,
but with the addition of high profile stunts to his creative repertoire, he
has gained heavy media and critical attention.

In the summer of 2005 Banksy made, arguably, one of his most political statements to date. He scaled parts of the 425 mile long wall of the Israeli West Bank barrier, and painted nine images that referenced freedom and liberation. He did this under surveillance by the Israeli Defense Forces who at some point during this incredulous exercise fired shots in the air and also had their guns pointed at Banksy. Along with such daring enterprises, Banksy has also pulled off several other capers that lend credence to his claim as an art terrorist. In 2005, Banksy held the distinction of being the only person to have his works shown in four internationally renowned museums, the only caveat here was he achieved this without the consent of the museums’ staffers. Banksy, heavily disguised in a trench coat and hat,took his own works and installed them at the Brooklyn Museum, American Museum of Natural History, Museum of Modern Art and The Metropolitan Museum of Art all in the same day!

The Young British Artists (YBAs) were a group of artists that gained
popularity during the 90’s British art scene. Pioneering the resurgence of
conceptual art, these artists produced works that were high in shock value with the use of abandoned or mundane materials. Notable YBAs like Tracy Emin, whose works included an installation of her slept- in bed, complete with menses stained sheets and knickers, and condom wrappers, were regarded as “pretentious” by critics, who argued that these works held no value to anyone but the artist. The nature of the works along with the fact that the YBAs were patronized by legendary advertising mogul, Charles Saatchi, caused a small but spirited resistance within the British art community. This resistance came in the form of a group that called themselves Stuckists. The Stuckists were artists who banded together to provide a divergent artistic philosophy militantly opposed to conceptual art as represented by the YBAs. They emphasized conventional art, stating in their manifesto that, “Artists who don’t paint aren’t artists”.

Some see Banksy as a bastard child of both movements. He uses elements of
conceptual art, such as installation, to shock and incite controversy while also to promoting or highlighting social issues such as poverty and consumerism. Also, in the “remodernist” vein- a concept coined by the Stuckists, that advocates the spirituality and responsibility of art-, Banksy’s works are heavy on metaphor and symbolism as he seeks to disseminate his own truth.
As with all art, interpretation is a personal affair, and sometimes, the artists orginal message is lost somewhere between the space of viewing a work and judging its value. When this happens, critics only see a scared elephant, painted and housed in a small warehouse for the pleasure of a few. They do not see the metaphor motivating the art.The flier passed out during that show read “there is an elephant in the room. there is a prob
lem (poverty) we never talk about”. Well… everyone is talking about the elephant now.

copying and pasting links

along with code embedded around poetry

break

to share the womb of take pills die

driving, working in an office

providing motion and action

cheers to andrew cauthen for leading by proliferation