#char: marija

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ARROW THEORY GLICERINE TS011C

- Yes. - I admitted. They laughed again. - Okay, Captain Esmoza, let's see what you do. Anyway, half of the total goes to us. I don't care where the body is. The brothers nodded sadly. - And we will do this with the containers. We'll send one to everyone who turns. Da Esvas is dead. So his people will receive one container. And so on. - They looked at each other. The plan was brilliantly simple. - And so on. - They said in agreement. We went out through the same passage, covering the bookcase and the poster. There was nothing else to do here. So we went shopping, spending a lot of money, on unnecessary and feminine things. I was dying in the back of the car, and Marija jumped on for a moment that could drag like chewing gum and up to half an hour. She then tried on various clothes and shoes. And there was no end to it. She deserved it. After all, that was her plan with these containers. To send one to everyone. All you had to do now was wait until they finish themselves. Having earned about thirty-five million and with the hole in our stomach itchy and stinking with a purulent ulcer, we drove home contentedly. It was time to find out about Rico and Tiago. Esmoza knew I couldn't get away. The only thing to be expected was that he might want to kill me if he was scared that he had no money for me, or out of greed if his stupidity hit his brain. Marija was driving carefully, but we turned off the road to the side roads to look for accommodation. We were tired. And when entering La Pampa del Fior, you had to be vigilant and act. Here in the outback, not even the GPS can track us.

Two weeks later, someone brought a courier to my door. The servants dragged him inside, and he was in poor shape even though he was in poor shape. Somehow, he was reluctant to die until he handed me a monkey scalp and spoke Latin. I cannot forget his face, frozen so fulfilled. It is unknown who cut him down or why he got to me. Then the gringos came. They came to La Pampa del Fior and of course they were looking for me. Whether it was their courier, or from somewhere they found out about him, they absolutely wanted "their man" or rather a body. The Gringos think they are great and strong and the Indios are weak and stupid. But we are in the 21st century. And the gringos do not glow. They live in the past and what they stole before. They don't know what La Pampa del Fior is, because "nothing is as it seems here." Marija was the first to figure them out when she came home from school, and noisy gringos laughed at our village clothes. They rented an entire floor in the hotel at El Micha and it began to seem to them that they were the rulers of all creation. They pushed passers-by in the street and mocked houses and water pots. The servants were ordered not to let them even through the gate. They knocked over the descendants of Spanish aristocrats in the street, screaming under the heavens, having no idea of ​​their greatness, origin, pride, and a culture that despised the way of being gringos and their lives without honor. On the first day, they beat up the doorman and forced me into the courtyard, shouting something and waving their weapons. We put their charred jeep in front of the hotel, and in it there were alive and terrified screamers. Quiet now in their helplessness. They gave each one a hornet who did its job. Gringos called for meals, and Rico got a list of phone owners in half an hour. Even and especially the restricted ones. Rico sent his agents to speak their minds to them. The Gringos probably won't believe it, and you will have to send someone's head, like in '89 when the Canadians wanted to drill something. But for now, there is time to be wise.

[nofomoartworld]

An In-Depth Look at Parsons' 2017 MFA Show

Twenty-two students make up the 2017 graduating class in the Parsons School of Design MFA program. Coming from all around the world to participate in the rigorous two year program, since its bright beginnings in the early 20th century, each year has spawned talented artists. This years thesis show, titled Second Nature, opened on April 24 at Westbeth Gallery in Chelsea, featuring selected works from students who've been furiously working before they're released into the cold-yet-determined New York art scene.

Second Nature show poster by Shenyuan Ke

Second Nature brings forth an intimate look at artistic interventions and observations of the fragile world around us. Curated by Chelsea Haines, who has previously put together shows at the Museum of Contemporary Art Detroit, the Pittsburgh Pavilion at the 9th Shanghai Bienniale and The Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts, this show questions how nature itself has been fundamentally altered by human intervention.

Marija Markovic, Dokolica, 2017, three-channel video, 35 minutes

Many of the works center around popular themes being discussed through art lately, such as sexuality, self identity, and worldly politics. The works in Second Nature do so with a humanistic view, as seen in Marija Markovic's three channel video, Dokolica or Katie Chambers painted red tulle on canvas, ILYYLMWAHF. By asking questions such as, "Why are we here?" and "What does this world mean to me as an artist?" feelings of intimacy and closeness bring the show together.

Yue Sun, chair study, video

Everything from sound, performance, video and classical painting is on view, which shows just how much variety the Parsons MFA program contributes to the art world. In Bridget Leslie's Paradox Of The Non-Space, EDM and found sound, together with video projection, creates vibrating movement on three metal chains. The three rooms that make up Westbeth gallery have been completely transformed to bring these creatives together around a certain theme.

"One of the wonderful things about being part of this show," experimental sound artist Bridget Leslie tells Creators, "is the ability to work so closely with a curator who genuinely wants to know about us as people and not just us as artists." Haines made numerous studio visits, along with visiting artists who participated in weekly Wednesday night lectures at the school. By getting so close to full time working artists, the students gain an in-depth understanding of the ins and outs of a life in the arts today.

Bridget Leslie, PARADOX OF THE NON-SPACE, 2017, video installation

By using color and personal history as a jumping point, many of the artists in the show used their pieces as meditations on the work that they have created during their time in the program, as seen in Xin Liu's extraordinary pink and green oil painting, Han Xi Zai. As explained in the press release for the show, together and separately, the artists' working processes have become another type of second nature—an almost instinctual critical approach to looking at and making images—formed in the intensive learning and working environment of the Parsons MFA Program. 

Battle Dome, 2017, humidifier, dehumidifier, plexiglass, wood, LEDs

Cali Kuran

is on display at Westbeth Gallery in Chelsea until April 29. Click for more information.

Second Naturehere

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ARROW THEORY POTTIES TS061

POTTY start at www.kuby.pl in chapter TS001 in 91 languages.

The Veteran sees People as incapable of development and not understanding the thread eaters of time. He, the timeless one who rules the worlds like gods, but is not omnipotent. He who allowed the Pretekineterka to enter the Human World. He who had to accept the existence of Marija ... It is not known why the Veteran chose this ocean-going vessel. And yet... Hombre was sitting on a bench on the third deck and had no idea who that gentleman was, with his oversized hat fastened with a thong under his chin. A veteran is someone who does not bow to any wave. Hombre did not know that he was in danger, and the Veteran knew he had to do something about this weirdness that Hombre turned out to be for him. The veteran was listening to Hombre's thoughts, or maybe it was their joint research? Hombre was pondering, or maybe something in him was reflecting on him and imposing this course of thought on him. The veteran listened carefully:

- We are potties full of the most sacred impurities and the enamel ear is our greatest gift. Hombre wondered what this rubbish was ... Like a potty swaying on the waves of the ocean, the ear under water does not allow you to hear the sound of the wind and the scream of gulls. We know nothing about albatrosses. Only the most sacred impurities in the potties even out the ear level a little and allow you to hear the wind at least a little - the ether of the skies. Though the enamel is broken here and there, we are human when our sacred shit mingles with the ocean. They are the functions of the potties, which is why we exist. That's the only reason the potty is made by a factory without eyelashes. Tears without eyelashes. At the sound of the chime and horn, the murmurando of our thoughts is triggered. Intrusive whispers without words. Desires without giggles, sweetness without meaning, sin without dimension, drilling without gray. Factory.

- A thrill and over and over again this first time. The same second circulation freshness, closed dream distillation. Every twin knows it. He knows what the second twin and a balaclava with a scented cigar in his mouth. Some smiles are symmetrical. Will the army find a place for a man with half an arm. He's not bitter at all. I've never cried over spilled milk. A potty full of the most sacred filth complains. I cannot hug children with a hand with several tips. Repair machines overcome the sound barrier. My laser helmet flew off with my head at full speed at 20,000. Meters. It's like a helmet on the wings.

- There's nothing like watching worms or people running along the paths of destiny. - Said the Veteran with gusto, and twisted his mustache. He raced with complacency and scratched behind his ear like a village steward at the sight of a sow. Modern materials combined with diagnostics and the speed of disappearance and masking make mimicry in moths invaluable in winning a war without a fight. The moths fly towards the flame of vengeance and will not leave the trail that leads them there. How are we to teach compassion when our bodies are charred at the bottom. By showing us how we died burnt? We stand up for the truth. But it is not dead, but only alive. Like you, she thinks she can change people. Like you, she thinks her way is right. Take off your hat and spread the moth wings. Your flight is our flight, your speech is our confession. Your will is a sign to those hiding and disappearing in dimension. Spread the news. Your knowledge will not enslave our mind rush. We will prepare for another dimension to come without revenge and without compassion. No mercy, because without those who need it. Happy are the tears extinguishing the flame of revenge. And we will turn the grain we have for food. The wind raises our wings by itself. A sick friend will heal when his heart renounces vengeance and refreshes himself. Let's fly!

Here's the proof that we're not going to hurt you. The rain will fall and the harvest will increase. The herds will multiply and the water will become clear and crystal. A sick friend has the will to heal and the power to live without dying. I promise not to let our thoughts be forgotten. Our dreams will guide us through the path of memory. Give us hope that we will continue to strive and believe in people. Their good path will be rewarded with their eternity and remembrance.

Half the light does not shine on the past, it illuminates the future. Is it true? His legs are like the marshal's chestnut. Remember the clay your mother. O sweet Ishtar, lover of my body! These are Bero's lips, dry with longing for you. start at www.kuby.pl in ninety-one languages ​​in chapter TS001.