#zoomorphic war machines

[artapir]

TOP: Detailed scale model of a mid-Flea-War-era weevil tank BOTTOM: Urban beetlesuit wreckage, mid-late Flea War

Midjourney 6

[forktruck65-blog]

Visiting the Jersey Shore? Here’s what you should do

White-sand beaches and glittering bays are what draw people to the Jersey Shore, but there’s so much else on offer along this 127-mile stretch of scenic coastline. Each shore city has its own unique vibe, and the sites called out below tend to exemplify the towns themselves, from the pop-culture heritage of Asbury Park to the preservation-forward Cape May.

It’s easy to fall into a routine once you’re set on a shore town, so let this guide be a roadmap for exploring an unfamiliar locale for a day or two.

Sandy Hook

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Gateway National Recreation Area at Sandy Hook

The northernmost point of the Jersey Shore is also a federally protected wildlife area, where birding, boating, and beaching are at their finest. The Gateway National Recreation Area’s Sandy Hook division is a 45-minute ferry ride from midtown Manhattan, but feels like it’s an eternity away with its seven miles of paths for biking, running, and walking, plus its stretches of white sand and surf. Gateway is also a prime place to pitch a tent—on the approved campground, of course—for a night under the stars.

Asbury Park

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The Stone Pony

Called the “beating heart of Asbury Park” by the New York Times, the Stone Pony has been a pilgrimage site at the Jersey Shore for music lovers since the mid-1970s. It wasn’t uncommon to see a young Bruce Springsteen play alongside the small venue’s booked acts; in fact, the Boss is still known to make a casual appearance on stage or in the crowd. The venue, like Asbury Park itself, weathered a downturn in the last few decades, but is back with a vengeance, touting a killer summer line-up both inside the venue and on its outdoor summer stage.

Silverball Museum

Shade seekers on the Asbury Park Boardwalk will find a unique pitstop in the Silverball Museum, the museum-arcade-bar hybrid that pays homage to pinball machines from the 1960s to the present. The nostalgia-heavy destination is a walk through pop-culture history, and features a rotating collection of 600-plus machines including the 1967 Beat Time—from the height of Beatlemania—an original 1972 Atari Pong game, and the 1993 Twilight Zone game. Retro lovers, rejoice.

Ocean Grove

The Great Auditorium

The Great Auditorium, which dates to 1894, remains the cultural center of Ocean Grove, the shore town established as a spiritual getaway in the mid-1800s. Its acoustics have been compared to those of New York’s Carnegie Hall, and the auditorium has hosted memorable musicians like John Philip Sousa and preachers like Billy Sunday. The auditorium still hosts Sunday services and the spare musical act, but is worth checking out for its architecture alone. The building, a hybrid of Stick and Queen Anne styles, was constructed in just 92 working days with a stone foundation, iron bridge trusses, and a wood frame.

Ocean Township

Kane Brewing Company

A short drive inland from the beach at Allenhurst, Kane Brewing Company is an ideal place to find cover on a rainy weekend. The eight-year-old brewery has amassed a die-hard following, meaning its tasting room is lively in any weather. Brews here often take a nautical name, like Head High—the company’s signature IPA—Party Wave, or Outer Reef, but there’s nothing salty about them. Beware the brewery on release days, when lines are known to wrap around the building.

Point Pleasant

Castaway Cove Adventure Golf

Like beaches themselves, mini golf is ubiquitous at the Jersey Shore. Let Castaway Cove Adventure Golf on Point Pleasant’s Jenkinson’s Boardwalk be a jumping-off point for exploring the shore’s culture of weird and wacky putt-putt establishments.

Ocean County

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Island Beach State Park

The protected seaside of Island Beach State Park offers a genuine chance to get away from it all. Absent here are the raucous crowds of neighboring Seaside Heights—yes, the town from Jersey Shore—and the commercialism that comes with a boardwalk lining a beach. This habitat protects 10 miles of shoreline where unspoiled sand dunes, tidal marshes, and maritime forests exist in their full splendor.

Barnegat Light

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Barnegat Lighthouse State Park

This 32-acre state park is ripe for exploring, but don’t miss its namesake lighthouse. (It’s such a big deal to the area that the town renamed itself Barnegat Light in 1948.) The tower was commissioned in 1859, but deactivated as a Coast Guard lookout in 1944. It’s the second-tallest lighthouse in the country at 172 feet, and with that stature comes open views of Long Beach Island, the Atlantic Ocean, and Barnegat Bay. But be warned: Reaching the top of the lighthouse’s 217 winding stairs requires a bit of endurance.

Ship Bottom

Ron Jon Surf Shop

This surf-shop brand with a cult following started out as a meager shack at the beach in 1959. Those original oceanside digs have been upgraded to an 8,000-square-foot shrine to all things surf and sun. Don’t forget to grab a bumper sticker with the brand’s logo on it—you’ll be in good company on the Garden State Parkway.

Galloway

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Edwin B. Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge

This refuge encompasses 47,000 acres of protected coastal habitat, and it’s a prime spot to see fish and other wildlife year-round. In the winter, bald eagles and black ducks roam the area; summer welcomes turtles and great blue herons. Birders, take note: The habitat is located under one of the Atlantic Flyway’s most active migration paths, so bring your binoculars.

Atlantic City

Steel Pier at Atlantic City.

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Steel Pier

Jutting 1,000 feet over the Atlantic Ocean, this 1898-built entertainment pier was home to the first Miss America pageants, and once hosted big-name acts like Frank Sinatra and the Rolling Stones. Today, its main attraction is a new 227-foot Ferris wheel, a symbol along the country’s oldest boardwalk that this seaside city of vice will always strive to reinvent itself to stay afloat.

James Candy Co.

When the James Candy Co. opened on the Atlantic City boardwalk some 140 years ago, a ride on the span’s newly introduced rolling chairs was all the rage. Now it’s easy to stroll past this attraction, which is sandwiched between a storefront for a psychic and tacky pseudo-museum Ripley’s Believe It or Not.

But stepping over its threshold will illuminate a world of nostalgia for what Atlantic City has, by and large, left behind. Here, at the longest continually operating business in the city, find classic sweets like saltwater taffy and creamy mint sticks packaged in throwback boxes. Though times have changed, their tastes remain the same.

The Quarter

Atlantic City’s reputation as bachelor and bachelorette party hotspot is earned at the Quarter, the Tropicana Hotel & Casino’s Old Havana-themed wing, which opened in 2004. Frozen drink emporium Wet Willie’s and nightclub Anthem are at the center of the action, while Planet Rose Karaoke Bar and ’70s-themed dance club Boogie Nights serve up some good old-fashioned entertainment.

Margate City

Lucy the Elephant, in Margate City, New Jersey.

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Lucy the Elephant

“No legend of the colorful Southern Jersey seashore history matches the sight of a 65-foot-high wooden Elephant astride the beach looking out into the mists of the sea, a spectacle that, according to historians, made many coastwise seamen of the tramp ships from the West Indies swear off their rum rations for days,” begins Lucy the Elephant’s fantastical official history.

And what a history it’s been: This 138-year-old feat of zoomorphic architecture has served as a tavern and as a residence to a British doctor and his family. Somewhere in the mix, it was also used as a lighthouse that signaled to rum runners during Prohibition if it was safe to come into town. Today, Lucy houses a museum dedicated to her history. Don’t miss the guided tour—the only way into the belly of the beast—that starts with a spiral staircase nested in one of her hind legs and culminates with the glorious ocean view from her crowning howdah.

Ocean City

The boardwalk at Ocean City, New Jersey.

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Ocean City Boardwalk

Ocean City’s beloved 2.5-mile boardwalk is lined with novelty food joints, campy mini-golf courses with themes like Medieval Fantasy and Pirate Island, and two amusement parks—Gillian’s Wonderland Pier and Playland’s Castaway Cove—that light up the sky with flashing colored bulbs on sticky summer nights. Don’t miss a stop at Johnson’s Popcorn, a boardwalk staple since 1940 that serves up hand-tossed kettle corn coated in a thin, crispy layer of caramel.

Wildwood

The Doo Wop Preservation League Museum

The Wildwoods’ whimsical trove of Doo Wop architecture (also called Googie or populuxe in other corners of the country) gets a worthy preface at this small museum, where classic neon signs and period furniture are on display. But nowhere is the memorable 1950s style better experienced than on the street, where it’s easy to take a self-guided tour past motels with names like the Aztec, Lollipop, and American Safari. Doo Wop is wonderful, it’s weird, and it’s under threat, so don’t delay.

Naval Air Station Wildwood Aviation Museum

This little-known museum puts World War II-era aircrafts and engines within reach in a restored historic hangar at the shore. The hangar was used as an active dive-bomber squadron training facility during World War II and today is on the National Register of Historic Places for its role during the conflict. Parents and history buffs, take note: This is a prime rainy-day activity.

Middle Township

Cape May County Park & Zoo

The Victorian-era homes, antique stores, and golf courses that pad Route 9 in Cape May County hide one of the area’s most unique attractions. The Cape May Zoo is home to lions, bison, giraffes, zebras, foxes, snakes, and more, living in special habitats spread across 85 acres. The zoo is one of the finest in the world, at least according to TripAdvisor: It ranked as the 13th best-reviewed zoo in the world in 2015, falling behind much better-known destinations like those in San Diego and Beijing.

And the zoo isn’t just for kids. The grounds also feature a zipline and an aerial adventure area that helps raise money for zoo maintenance. Admission to the zoo is free, but donations are accepted (and encouraged.)

Cape May

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Historic Cold Spring Village

Sitting on 22 wooded acres, Cold Spring Village bills itself as an “open air living history museum that invites all visitors to find meaning, pleasure, relevance, and inspiration in the exploration of southern New Jersey’s past.” A late-1800s octagonal building on site houses historic miniatures, the Village Bakery sells period confectionaries, and hand-crafted artisan wares are sold out of a building that’s older than the United States.

While the 18th and 19th centuries appear alive and well within the town’s confines, it’s worth noting that Cold Spring Village isn’t actually a historic town but one reconstructed of period buildings from the area. But don’t let that deter you; this fascinating site is worth a visit.

Cape May Whale Watch and Research Center

One of the first eco-tourism outfits in South Jersey invites visitors to set sail onto the Atlantic Ocean and Delaware Bay in search of whales, dolphins, and marine birds. Bottlenose dolphins, loggerhead sea turtles, and humpback whales are all known to appear in the waters around the state’s southernmost point. The tours focus not only on sight-seeing, but also on conservation and cataloguing of marine life migration patterns. The company can’t guarantee a marine mammal sighting, but does offer another trip to participants in that case.

Beach Plum Farm

The 62-acre Beach Plum Farm welcomes daytime visitors to walk its grounds and grab a bite at its farm-to-table stand. The farm is home to ethically raised chickens and Berkshire hogs, and turns out flowers and vegetables throughout the season, a bounty that can be picked up at the stand on site. (The small farm has been known to churn out over 1,000 watermelons in a season.) Don’t miss one of Beach Plum’s BYOB, family-style dinners, which rival some of the best restaurants in Cape May.

Source: https://philly.curbed.com/2019/6/13/18647598/jersey-shore-things-to-do

[lineara]

Robin J. Klang

Butterfly Core 893, 2015, Hand Jacquard Woven Cotton

Core Memory, 2012, 30" x 31", hand Jacquard woven silk and cotton

Butterfly Core 321, 2015, Hand Jacquard Woven Cotton and Chenille

Phantasmic Data Dawn, 2016, hand Jacquard woven cotton, synthetic yarns, hand dyed wool, plastic, metal rod, 56 inches x 98 inches

Your Norwegian-designed digital loom, Thread Controller 2 (TC2) is the only digital loom in New York City.  What is special about TC2 and how does it work?

To my knowledge, it’s the only one in the New York City—there may be others. To best describe how it works, I feel the need to first explain how the Jacquard loom differs from floor-loom style weaving. With the floor loom, warp threads are strung through heddles—they kind of look like eyes of a needle—and are tied in sections to foot pedals. You have to push those pedals in a certain order to make the threads lift and create your patterns.

With the Jacquard loom, the innovation involved replacing the foot pedal system by using punch cards, which had the capability of lifting the threads in more complex ways. It provided a faster way to make very complicated textiles. This was even before electricity—now most Jacquard looms are electric and automated. For instance, my loom runs on a vacuum pump.

Vibeke Vestby, the Norwegian woman who invented the TC2, looked to create a version of the contemporary Jacquard loom that embraced its digital capabilities but was still hand-operated, rather than automated.  This allows artists and designers the freedom of speed and technologic innovation, combined with experimentation that comes about with weaving by hand.  You have lot of room for material investigation because you can switch out colors and do things that would be not be very costly for—or could potentially damage—an industrial machine designed for speed and quantity.  Vibeke wanted to blend the two and create a version of the Jacquard loom that was hand operated—that’s what this machine is.

Files are designed on the computer, and then there’s a little bit of programming that happens where you have to translate the image into weave structures.  Afterwards, you are ready to turn on the machine and begin weaving, which involves inserting the horizontal weft yarns by hand, while the digital loom lifts the warp threads per each line of pixels in your file. The TC2 is not necessarily designed for huge mass production—it’s meant for handmade projects, but it’s still fast, much faster than what could happen on the floor-loom.

I'm interested in the capability of pushing those moments where the pattern is broken through a color change or inserting unusual material such as plastics. It’s the idea of mixing an element of the hand-made glitch into our understanding of technology.  In the textile customs of many indigenous cultures, there’s a practice of creating an intentional error within the piece—it's seen as an act of honoring the divine or indicating your imperfection. In Navajo culture it’s called the “spirit line”—a misplaced thread that looks like it’s breaking the symmetry but is actually intentionally situated there. I like to embrace this in my work as well—I find that it can take on an additional meaning in the context of the man versus machine conversation.  

How do you decide what imagery to use for your textile pieces? What do you see as the relationship between computer chips and weaving, or modern technology and the loom?

Currently, there are two crossovers in the history of weaving and technology that have become inspirations to my imagery. The first is involves the history of the Jacquard loom. When the loom was invented, it was the first time punch cards were ever used in a mechanized process. The idea of punch cards as binary information carriers—where the cards are either punched or not, zero or one—was later used by another inventor named Charles Babbage, who appropriated this punch card concept for what is now considered the first computer.  With this in mind, I've heard some people refer to the Jacquard loom as the grandmother to the computer. I think this is an especially beautiful reference because in Navajo culture, it was the grandmother spider who wove the universe in her womb and who taught humans how to weave.

The second crossover point involves the history of computer. During the first 20 years of computer history, the way the memory was stored involved woven copper wires and little magnetized beads. Those beads would be charged either positive or negative, again creating binary information but through magnetic memory. I find it fascinating that the early computer stored information through these little tiny weavings. Records indicate that it was mostly women who wove these because of the dexterity of their fingers, so there’s this amazing relationship between technology and the history of weaving.

Much of my imagery evokes these magnetic memory cores—I just love the idea how textiles have a rich relationship with memory.  Textiles have often been made to commemorate important milestones in life, such as a baby blanket, a wedding day dowry gift, or a protection shirt that’s created for a son who is going off to war. There’s memory, intention, and cultural identity wrapped up into this cloth that took someone an intensive amount of labor to create. It’s an interesting reference point for thinking about information and memory in the context of our digital culture. Some of them are more literal references to technology, and others reference symbols from a global textile history. Whether it’s ancient zoomorphic characters, iconic symbolism, motherboard hardware, or digital marks generated with photoshop spray brushes, it’s kind of all blended together, like a soup.

Through intention and references to history, many of the works present themselves in an almost totemic, quasi-spiritual way. Perhaps it’s a kind of investigation into ghosts in the machine and our collective consciousness, and a rapid technologically connected globalized world becoming reference points for when science, spirituality, and imagination meet.  Much has been written and theorized concerning technology and mysticism, and I often enjoy listening to books and lectures while I weave. It all gets imbued into the work.

What kinds of limitations do you find using a loom that you wouldn’t face if you working a different medium?

I think the main difficulty is the considerable amount of prep and behind-the-scenes work that happens. Actually weaving the piece, the fun part, goes relatively fast. For instance, I had to thread all those threads in the loom first—there’s 3,520 of them, and they all had to go through their own heddles in a particular order! There’s also the process of winding the warp, which can take months. There’s lot of labor that goes into prepping the loom so that you can weave on it. It’s a challenge. I think when people hear about the digital loom there’s an misconception that it’s more similar to 3D printing, where I can push a button and the thing is created.

Despite the challenges, I enjoy working with process-based media and I find there are little moments along the way that keep things exciting and provide constant opportunities to push what I can do with the machine. There’s still a lot to experiment with.

Textiles have a long and revered history as religious, illustrative, and decorative handmade objects dating back to 10,000 BC. Though in the 18th century, textiles were considered craft and often undermined as “women’s work.” Artists like Anni Albers, associated with the Bauhaus school of the 1920s, elevated textiles to the realm of fine art with modern, geometric abstractions. What role do you think textiles play in contemporary fine art now?

I think textiles have been more present within art history than people realize. There have been many waves of contemporary fiber and textile art since the Bauhaus. In the ‘60s and ‘70s these techniques were definitely very hot, and I think it’s interesting to note how that was also the moment when new media art was beginning as well. As with any movements that happen within the art world, there’s an adjustment period, and then it comes back around.

Now seems to be another moment where notions of craft, decoration, pattern, and high and low taste are being reconsidered within contemporary art.  I’m interested in presenting a perspective from an artist who is living through this digital transformation and questioning what that means in the world of textile art. Our virtual lives are consuming a great deal of our being—perhaps at the same time there’s a need more than ever for the tangible and tactile, a desire for something that’s a slower, more physical process, and a place where textiles can fill a niche.

How do you see yourself and your work in relation to the tradition of textile art, a historically women-dominated field?

While there’s a Western connotation of textiles always being made by women, that’s not actually the case in many countries. For instance, in Turkey, men create much of the textiles.

Fiber by nature is a very inclusive media, existing in a somewhat "other" space, not being specifically painting or sculpture.  That platform of inclusivity, as well as a carried notion of femininity, creates space for conversations about gender, politics, and identity.  Regardless of what gender background you associate with, approaching the concept of femininity in contemporary art as a conscious tool for what you are talking about can be really interesting and powerful, especially in a time such as now when we’re seeing another wave of gender equality movements. Textiles have a central place in that conversation.

In contradiction to the feminine, I think there’s a largely masculine element to the technological aspects in my work—in the same way as textiles may be associated with women in western ideology, the connotation of the computer world is that it’s predominantly male. This blending of the two is interesting to me.  However, the questions I’m most concerned with asking in my work have to do with process, history, memory, and the ghosts in the machine, though the associations with the materials will naturally be present.