A short film about mishaps and manners by Jack Tew and Dave Humphreys.

For newcomers, three more items from the archives. 

Details, Details. 

On the socialist pieties of Professor Zygmunt Bauman.

The professor claims that “the quality of a society should be measured by the quality of life of its weakest members.” My initial response to this was to think of a drunken woman I sometimes see not far from where I live. She’s a slightly incongruous sight around mid-morning: fag in one hand, can of cheap beer in the other, chugging away merrily and looking a little unsteady. I’m guessing she’s not a physicist or a brain surgeon, or even a professor of sociology. It’s unlikely, I think, that this woman can hold down a job and I’d guess the odds are good that her morning beers are paid for with state benefits. Now if Bauman wants us to judge the quality of society as a whole by the quality of this woman’s habits and decisions, or the decisions of others like her, that seems a tad unfair. It’s also unclear what, if anything, Professor Bauman would want to do to this woman – sorry, do for this woman – in the name of “social justice.”

Entitlement (2). 

Seumas Milne demands “social justice” and the right to take your stuff.

Note the phrases “naked class egotism” and “unchallengeable entitlement.” Now to whom might they apply? Those who wish to retain just under half of their own earnings, or those who feel entitled to confiscate even more from others in order to indulge their own moral sentiments, or pretensions thereof? Do notions of greed, presumption and selfishness apply only to people above a certain level of income? Or can they, for instance, be said of some recipients of welfare? Can such things be said of the state, or of the righteous Mr Milne? To how much of your income is the government morally entitled?

When Hippies Weep.  

Eco-hippies weep for fallen trees. “I want you to know, trees, that we care.” 

And feel free to skip barefoot through the greatest hits.

Jumping spiders photographed by Tomatito Rodriguez.

 
Euophrys frontalis (male). 

Keith Boadwee is an Adjunct Professor of Fine Arts at the San Francisco Art Institute. // Journalism warning labels. (h/t, Mr Eugenides) // Cat fashion show. // Communication gloves for firefighters. // Max Fleischer’s Superman. (1941-42) // Time-lapse Perseids and Milky Way. // There’s something in the water. // Shark clip. // Ice guns. // Buzzing the Grand Canyon. (1959) // Backwards ABBA. // Hey, DJ. // I said… Hey, DJ. // Paint job. // Walking table. // Twinkies deconstructed. (h/t, MeFi) // Custom wheels. // The Moon versus Australia and other issues of size. // Freefall speedcubing. // And this is how you yo-yo. 

Carmina Burana and a tiny brass cannon. Works for me.

Via The Borderline Sociopathic Blog For Boys.

The writer and film curator Omar Kholeif tells us The Arts Need Diversity Schemes: 

It is no secret that the new British government is making sweeping changes to arts and culture policies. From budget cuts to the entire restructuring of national and regional arts funding, the unstable future of our collective culture is increasingly debated.

Our collective culture? Really? My own visits to galleries of modern offerings have been remarkably short on feelings of affinity and collective ownership. More typically, the experience has been one of alienating tedium due to the self-absorption of a curatorial caste. 

In the midst of that, we must also consider where minority groups fit into the equation.

But of course. There just isn’t enough racial politics in “our” art.

Will policymakers choose to maintain positive action programmes? […] As a young arts professional, I have only recently felt my career taking off, having utilised the often-controversial diversity scheme as a springboard.

Some readers may be surprised to learn that their taxes have been funding racial favouritism.  

After graduating with a first-class degree, I spent what seemed like a lifetime twiddling my thumbs in unsatisfying entry-level roles and, like many humanities graduates in my cohort, waiting at the job centre.

Which may shed some light on the value of an arts degree and the wisdom of pursuing that particular line of business.

Without the financial means to fund further my education, or the resources to devote time to unpaid work experience, I ended up taking on opportunities unrelated to my vocation.

See above.

Last year, just as matters had started to improve, I was accepted onto a curating fellowship. It was originally founded in response to a survey in 2005 that revealed only 6% of London’s museum and gallery workforce hail from a minority background – a disproportionate ratio, considering that black and minority ethnic residents make up nearly a third of the capital’s population.

As this is a Guardian comment piece, the density of assumption is of course quite high. Note the implicit belief that every conceivable ethnic category of humankind should be “represented” proportionally in all areas of endeavour – or at least those that suit the author’s current line – irrespective of individual choices and priorities. Note too the implicit belief that if reality doesn’t correspond with this expectation, then something nefarious must be taking place, regardless of whether evidence of such has actually been discovered.

No evidence of foul play appears in the piece and a lot seems to hang on the claim of a “disproportionate ratio” of minority employees. But London offers a range of niche employment for which many people relocate from other parts of the country, where ethnic demographics may be very different and much closer to the offending 6%. If some types of employment in the capital reflect national rather than local demographics this isn’t inherently scandalous or evidence of injustice. In and of itself, the ratio of minority employees in London galleries isn’t the most compelling justification for “corrective” racial profiling. 

Hyrax rides tortoise. // Suren Manvelyan has been photographing eyes. // America in colour, 1939-1943. (h/t, John Symes) // Remnants of Supernova 1987A. // “The Earth is expanding rapidly.” // Southern sky panorama. // Magnetic putty. // Tigers and pigs. // Tiger Dust. // Abandoned lairs of supervillains. // Supersized art. // Bug nests of note. (h/t, Coudal) // Because all food should taste of smoke. // A film I just have to see. // Papercraft Queen. // Attention, hepcats. It’s a James Brown ski party. // Bid now for a jar of Elvis’ hair. // Intriguing dioramas. // Agreeable graphs. // Avengers pre-make. // Useful Idiots.

Anna steers us to the latest doings of “holistic nutritionist” and health guru Gillian McKeith. Readers may recall Ms McKeith’s television series You Are What You Eat, in which our host thrilled the nation with her enthusiastic cataloguing of human excrement. Ms McKeith’s latest venture is more ambitious still. Indeed, it’s positively mind-bending.

The Gillian McKeith Wellness Retreat in southern Spain is an educational inspirational centre for the spirit, mind and body to learn, discover, explore and get closer to the essence of Your Self and Life; and through this process you seek to garner inner harmony and balance.

I can tell you’re intrigued. Who wouldn’t want to get closer to their essence? Intimacy with one’s essence is apparently achieved in seven days by means of,

High enzyme vegan foods, raw meals, sprouts and juices,

Combined with,

massage, Chi Yoga, meditation,

And,

tennis.

After seven days of tennis, sprouts and essence fondling,

You will receive a Certificate of Completion and join the Path for a whole new life.

You’ll also receive a bill for £1,500. Though the fee does include,

a nurturing staff,

nurturing mountains,

And,

swooning eagles.

Yes, the eagles actually swoon. Imagine the spectacle of magnificent birds keeling over from sheer emotional fatigue. The place must be littered with them. It’s the “natural vitality” of the region that does it.

Oh, there’s more.

 
Assorted opera houses photographed by David Leventi. Via Coudal.

An intriguing offer.

“You’ll get paid after we get back.” Via Ka-Ching!