Roma (March 05, 2009)

innita : fanpage

Vespers (83)

No longer necessary that I move for several hours
It has been a pretty day cold wind clearing the roundings
On low alert vigilance depleted now assigned importance to the epithet
In time of treble matrilineally venite
So my brother is in motion I am still belonging to
The spirit holds new memory entirely in charge
My limbs and life your own
Whisper good night amid the freshly fired angels
Say the Angelus at noon
A far cry from new fallen snow
Against the granular integrity among us

acid raindrop

Peace

Uploaded on authorSTREAM by lrkcho

Yell Saccani "hang on make it slow im breathing ur lies"

Once again, the Photographer/Digital Artist from Israel, Yell Saccani produces work that acts as a lesson to photographers and an insightful commentary on human experience in a technological, media-saturated and multicultural age.



Yell Saccani is very modest about her artistic achievements, however it is difficult to fault her technical abilities, her subject-matter (full of continually shifting inflections) and her ambivalence towards the nature of digital art/photography. It is as if she is waiting for her next idea to supersede her previous one, recognising that she can stretch innovation further and produce art-works that can heighten awareness of self/consciousness and its shifting boundaries within and around external reality.

Her recent works have considered movement; a dance-like physicality, the merging of the body/self with externality and technological existence; and the limitations and freedoms of narcissism (photographically speaking).

View Yell Saccani's art/photography on Flickr.

I hope that Yell Saccani gains the recognition that she deserves. Her art is unusually high and subtle in nature, moving photography into new places, always retaining a painterly-like finish that allows viewers to experience her insights and reflect on their own experiences.

Simon

The image "hang on make it slow im breathing ur lies" is Copyright Yell Saccani - "all rights reserved".

sign = X5

then
the
one overtakes
the
two genesis
to
primality

neopaint

Clonology

Collaborative, digital Pop Art.

Thank you to Miss Boux

.....Western palpitations, objectified and feared.....having lost touch with the body.....in the name of refinement....to escape the animalistic qualities of human nature.....have acheived over-masculinized society....escaping the opaque by fixing the symptoms of problems....the short-term.....acheiving constant change.....dehumanizing and a more complex problem.....to unravel the solutions.....to find that our solutions are now our problem....

Simon

The Nude York Times Interview, prelude : Roma.

Most Nudeyorker's male readers would be shocked or captivated during the next 3 weeks reading “Nude York Nude York”, the cover/main article published today Friday 12th in “The Nude York Times” special ending-year issue (a regular biweekly that becomes 3-weeks ending December). The Colombian shock rocker nudist Innita reveals for this magazine her 2nd long-album : “Roma”, which it’s also the name of her first [written] novel. The reason: Her new concept album narrates the extinction of the male gender, mixing science-fiction and science-facts, using ironically and metaphorically the extinction of dinosaurs and the end of the Roman Empire. “In fact, Roma is the opposite of love; in Spanish ‘Roma’ is backwards to ‘amor’ which means ‘love’”. Innita reveals how this gynocentric album/book was originated months ago in long sleepless talks with her fiancé, the biologist girl called No, in what she founds about the evolution and growing birthrate of the Cnemidophorus exsanguis’species, an only-female lizard which reproduces herself with no male intervention. In her first album, there was a sneak-preview with a song called after this unique lizard.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cnemidophorus_exsanguis

It’s no surprise for her loyal fans the upcoming novel, due to the hyperactive multi-task nature of Innita. Since child she keeps an almost-daily routine of writing in her diary, so, her first book flows with her artistic discipline. “Writing to me is like doing ballet-lessons in my mind”, Innita explains.

The opening song is called “Roma”, sung in English, and the ending song is called precisely “Amor”, sung in Spanish; and the in-between songs are precisely the journey of the male-gender extinction.

“Roma” will be out on Innita’s 21st birthday, March 5th, 2009, and it will be launching simultaneously with the aforementioned written novel.

www.myspace.com/innita

to be continued .....
continuará .....

social circulates social
circulates social circulates
social circulates
social
a disagreement
is a bella morte

complexity versus simplicity
is not the bone to tooth
the flesh to eye to
groin to cartilage
no exit

exit to individuality balanced
with society
beyond contradiction
our eyes have seen
the flesh
of reason

eyescalate

eigenvalue
elapsed
eon
i c u
escalate

paparazzi: 11.25.2008.

Past week, Tuesday, November 25th, the (then elected) new Mrs. President Yimar Ayrim was photographed by her wife Georgia McCain in her private birthday morning with a simple cake.

Today, Thursday December 4th, this familiar photo has been posted in every fansite on web -decorated with the famous tune "Happy birthday Mr. President" sung by Marilyn Monroe- as well as printed in most United Stages' newspapers' first page.

It seems the new ruler girl on the White House has big time with her charming charisma.

www.flickr.com/photos/noparainnita/sets/72157610308045102/

model / modelo : atomic exotic:
www.flickr.com/photos/aexotic/

to be continued .....
continuará .....

Vespers (82)

It has been a day empty of smooth lines
I have not said them, have not thought,
have just recited syllables that don't connect.
They hitch loosely as my dovetailed sadness
that mismatches vigor from your soul.
I thought I was a young memento, now
I am a series of infractions on the green lawn
where you rest and watch and sail through
your allotted time.

It has been a day of smooth lines I have emptied
from the mist around my life.
I have recited sounds I do not mean to impart
sadness, meaning, sharing.
Any of those motions grow away, and weeds
are thriving in the fine small sprays of rain
each morning prior to the lifing of these blinds.

It has been a day of lies, unkempt decisions,
made, unmade, new linens packed away, and leaving.
I have spoken to my soft heart, teaching it, as if
I might refashion silence into something to be learned
from, not just losing heart and wallowing in fellow
disappointment. Fallow mornings, fallow daylights,
life remade into a spin run slowly into near darkness,
with center field a damp bisected place
we ransack for a way of seeing what we say
exists now, and might live.

Vespers (81)

erosion of magnificat as warm as nightfall breathes into
aspersions cast all episode

fruition camps out on the grave womb loftier than thousands
hold the fragment of a song that carried her

all wilderness enlists recall of the refrain one syllable before
another with a head for business art and breath

now is a pool of happenstance
come forward to play fury to assembled playthings

"as you were" to put out
fires and molto chaparral

to frame the givens and the gibbous loom of leaf light straining
to reply to what we've opened in and of and through reciprocated silence

Vespers (80)

Lash of wind light streaks
the glass, I hear percussion
on the tin fan where a sky light
might have been

Lamp settles in so
I expect a little pool
of quiet light
as I expect the moon

And treble clef to catch
my sorrows breathing back
some summer and the feeling
of a sea walk that smelled safe

I spoke as though into
a certain universe with hesitation
as with common law engagement
I would hold and have and earn