The Electronical Rattle Bag

Internet scrapbook of Paul Greer (@burningfp). Animation, etc.

Lynda Barry: 2013 National Book Festival
“Cartoonist Lynda Barry appears at the 2013 Library of Congress National Book Festival. Speaker Biography: Lynda Barry is a writer and cartoonist who lives in rural Wisconsin. She’s authored 19 books and received numerous awards and honors for her work, including two William Eisner awards, the American Library Association’s Alex award, the Washington State governor’s award, the Wisconsin Library Association’s R.R. Donnelly award and the Museum of Wisconsin Arts Lifetime Achievement Award. Her work has appeared in many publications, including The New York Times, Los Angeles Times, Vanity Fair, Esquire, Newsweek, Time, Salon, Mother Jones, Poetry Magazine and Tin House. She is currently assistant professor in interdisciplinary creativity at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and a Discovery Fellow at the UW Wisconsin Institutes for Discovery. Her new graphic novel is “The Freddie Stories.” For captions, transcript, and more information visit http://1.usa.gov/1shC4TC

fette:

Top, screen capture from Ed Atkins, Ribbons, 2014, Four channel 4:3 in 16:9 HD video with four 4.1 channel surround soundtracks, 14 minutes. Watch a 2:22 min excerpt. Bottom, Peter Fischli & David Weiss, Monument,1984, C-print, 9 1/4 x 13 inches; 24 x 33 cm. Via.
—
Narrative structure is prison; it is tradition; it is a lie; it is a formula that is imposed.
Dušan Makavejev. Via.
Watch Sweet Movie, 1974.

fette:

Top, screen capture from Ed Atkins, Ribbons, 2014, Four channel 4:3 in 16:9 HD video with four 4.1 channel surround soundtracks, 14 minutes. Watch a 2:22 min excerpt. Bottom, Peter Fischli & David Weiss, Monument,1984, C-print, 9 1/4 x 13 inches; 24 x 33 cm. Via.

Narrative structure is prison; it is tradition; it is a lie; it is a formula that is imposed.

Dušan Makavejev. Via.

Watch Sweet Movie, 1974.

theantidote:

This week’s Sumerian sign is ĝeš, which means tree or wood. It’s an important sign that was used a lot.
ĝeš is one of a collection of signs that are written but not spoken as silent signifiers of a noun’s type or class. This sign often appears before objects made out of wood, like weapons or tools.
So in isolation, ĝeš would be pronounced, but if it came before another noun, it would probably be unspoken, meant only as a signal to the reader to help interpret the following sign, since many signs had multiple meanings and pronunciations.
There are a lot of signs that do this. There’s a sign that appears before gods’ names. There’s a sign that goes before birds or bugs (I think maybe the Sumerians classified flying insects as a kind of bird maybe?), a sign that goes before things made of stone, a sign that goes before people’s names, and many more. There’s also a sign that goes after place names. 
When we transliterate these signs, we write them in a superscript to show that they’re silent. For instance, we’d write ĝešaš-te to mean (wooden) chair, even though in the original cuneiform the signs are all the same size.
The closest analogy to English writing, I guess, would be like using capital letters for proper nouns. It’s a way to signal something important to the reader.
(via rsbenedict:)

theantidote:

This week’s Sumerian sign is ĝeš, which means tree or wood. It’s an important sign that was used a lot.

ĝeš is one of a collection of signs that are written but not spoken as silent signifiers of a noun’s type or class. This sign often appears before objects made out of wood, like weapons or tools.

So in isolation, ĝeš would be pronounced, but if it came before another noun, it would probably be unspoken, meant only as a signal to the reader to help interpret the following sign, since many signs had multiple meanings and pronunciations.

There are a lot of signs that do this. There’s a sign that appears before gods’ names. There’s a sign that goes before birds or bugs (I think maybe the Sumerians classified flying insects as a kind of bird maybe?), a sign that goes before things made of stone, a sign that goes before people’s names, and many more. There’s also a sign that goes after place names. 

When we transliterate these signs, we write them in a superscript to show that they’re silent. For instance, we’d write ĝešaš-te to mean (wooden) chair, even though in the original cuneiform the signs are all the same size.

The closest analogy to English writing, I guess, would be like using capital letters for proper nouns. It’s a way to signal something important to the reader.

(via rsbenedict:)