“the sun had now detached itself from the horizon and day had dawned, with only a few clouds floating in the sky, let’s just hope it doesn’t get so hot that your muscles melt and you feel as if the sweat on your skin was about to come to the boil.” – jose saramago

01/08/2012 § 2 Comments

bill arnold,  floating house (1977)


i’m moving.  in texas.  in the summer.  its hot.


be back soon

a young hare




[title]     Saramago, José, and Margaret Jull. Costa. The Elephant’s Journey. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2010. Print.

[image]     today’s image is of a bill arnold piece originally found at  je suis perdu.

“… the body loses self-awareness precisely at those moments when it could be most revealing; consequently, memory cannot retain what the body had not been aware of, allowing crucial gestures to slip away, though it also endows them with a very special air, as the memory of a fainting spell can preserve only the curious sensations of losing and then regaining consciousness while the fainting itself, most intriguing to us, for it’s a state like no other, remains inaccessible, unknowable.” – peter nadas

19/07/2012 § 3 Comments

photography by michael wesely
top to bottom:
Ostjakobswarft, Fahretoft 17.27 – 17.32 Uhr, 25.7.2009
Allianz Arena 19.2.2003-28.5.2005
Palast der Republik, Berlin 28.6.2006 – 19.12.2008


understandable but unknowable.  somehow, michael wesely has managed to capture a two year exposure.


a state like no other

a young hare




[title]     Nádas, Péter, Ivan Sanders, and Imre Goldstein. A Book of Memories: A Novel. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1997. P: 74.  Print

[images]     todays images are the confounding efforts of michael wesely.

[more bombastic photography]     the last time peter nadas’ name appeared on ayh i was also mentioning something about photography.  a lot has happened since then.  idris kahn’s work also seems relevant.

“they say there’s nothing more difficult than to define a spiral in words; they claim it’s necessary to use the unliterary hand, twirling it in a steadily upward direction, so that human eyes will perceive the abstract figure immanent in a wire spring and a certain type of staircase. but if we remember that to say is to renew, we will have no trouble defining a spiral: it’s a circle that rises without ever closing.” fernando pessoa [1]

13/07/2012 § Leave a comment

toyo ito, white u (1976)


yesterday’s post concerned circles and mindless task of drawing.  so, while on the subject of circles and the act of doing: a u is a circle split with both ends pulled away and held parallel to each other.  white u is a house which no longer exists.  more specifically: it was a house designed by toyo ito for his grieving sister who’s husband had recently passed away.  less specifically: it was a white circle split with both ends pulled away and held parallel to each other, never to intersect again.  currently: white u is a set of images disintegrating under the process of print, scan, post, repeat.



a year ago (plus or minus a week), i made a promise (which claudette recently reminded me of, thanks!) to print, scan, post, repeat.  a process that has no serious goal in sight, other than the task of seeing what will happen and i’m pretty sure i know what will happen.  which reminds me:

“look,” said rumfoord, “life for a punctual person is a like a roller coaster.”  he turned to shiver his hands in her face.  “all kinds of things are going to happen to you!  sure,” he said, “i can see the whole roller coaster you’re on.  and sure – i could give you a piece of paper that would tell you about every bogeyman that was going to pop out at you in the tunnels.  but that wouldn’t help you any.” [2]

the fun part is doing, because while this process is cyclical, the result is more of a spiral than a circle.  this process is not a closed circuit; each iteration loops away from the origin.  i’ve already begun to notice small bits of information disappearing or maybe another way to think of it would be, the noise is starting to fade and the sentiment is coming forward.



this time around, as the white light of the scanner passed over the freshly dried ink of the 8.5×11 sheets of paper, i began to think about a recent lecture i read by john sarkowski concerning journalistic photography.  at one point he said:

the history of photography as a radical picture making system, can be defined as the history of the definition of new subjects.  sometimes these new subjects are extensions of ideas that exist in latent form in the work of exceptional photographers of an earlier generation.  sometimes they are genuinely primitive ideas mothered by a new technical breakthrough or a new market demand.  but in either case, the picture’s new meaning and its new appearance are the same. [3]

there seems to be a new subject arising today in photography: scanned imagery.  every day images in books, catalogues whatever are being uploaded to blogs, tumblrs, twitter, facebook, whatever.  point being, we are all essentially photographing photographs.  which might mean we are all following in the footsteps of sherrie levines [4] but then again it feels like we are also circling away from her.


spiraling controllably

a young hare




[1]     Pessoa, Fernando. The Book of Disquiet. [s.l.]: Penguin, 2003. P: 107. Print.

[2]     Vonnegut, Kurt. The Sirens of Titan. London: Millenium, 1999. P: 54.  Print.

[3]     for the entire lecture check out this american suburb x post.

[4]     specifically after walker evans.

[images]     the original photographs were taken from this toyo ito monograph:  Scheider, Ulrich, Hayakema Sakamao, Manfred Speikl, and Toyo Ito. Toyo Ito: Blurring Architecture 1971-2005. Milan: Charta, 1999. Print.

“the following things in the room were blue. the blue checks in the blue-and-black-checked shag carpet…. two of the unsettling attached lamps that kept its magazines unread and neatly fanned were blue, although the two blue lamps were not the lamps attached to the two blue chairs. dr. charles tavis liked to say that you could tell a lot about an administrator by the decor of his waiting room…. the premie violets in an asymmetrical sprig in a tennis-ball-shaped vase on the coffee-table were arguably in the blue family.” – david foster wallace [1]

11/07/2012 § 2 Comments

horace benedict de saussure, cyanometer (c1760)

misha de ridder, wissen brunnen (2009)

florian maier aichen, the best general view (2007)

unknown, maly semyachik  (date unknown) (via)

fabian schuber, hank schmidt in der beek painting in the zillertal alps (2009)

merel van den berg, the marker project (2009)

yutaka yoshinaga, 96-c-5 (1996)

david ireland, folded paper landscape (1973)

guillermo kuitca, neufert suite (sausage factory equipment) (1999)

casa, hakuei residence (1996)

xdga, house in brasschaat (1990-92)

benthem crouwel, schipol airport (date unknown) (via)

photographer unknown, thierry mugler residence (1981) (via 2thewalls)

maarten van severen, blauwe bank (1997)


bas jan ader made a point of only wearing international klein blue.  the color blue which artist yves klein patented and used through out his art works.  sometime between learning about bas jan ader and yves klein i came across horace benedict de saussure’s cyanometer.  horace created the cyanometer as a way of measuring the blueness of the sky in order to test a theory about the blueness of the sky being related to the moisture content of the air [2].  then last week, while catching up on radiolab podcasts i found out that (broadly speaking) according to philologists, red is always the first color to appear in a human language and blue is (usually) always the last color to appear in a human language.  weird.  so i decided to make a tumblr of blue themed images.  and inspired by horace benedict de saussure it presents a gamut of blues.  blues captured by cameras, painted on to a surface, fading away, washing buildings, and coloring furniture.


what would you add?  send ayounghare [at] gmail one or a few blue images [3].  if there are enough responses i could make a second blue tumblr post.


what is it about blue?

a young hare




[1]     wallace, david foster. infinite jest: a novel. boston: back bay books, 1996: p. 508 – 509. print

[2]     for more on the topic of blue and horace benedict de saussure check out this article on the royal society of chemistry’s website.

[3]     oh, the silly things we have to do to avoid spam bots.

[more series, more color]     this marks the third time ayh has presented a tumblr post.  previous posts involved the making of a plan and an ode to a gamut of reds inspired by the then pantone color of the year – honeysuckle.

“the city’s denizens remain submerged in a pristine cityscape characterized by transparency, honesty and efficiency. in playtime, the modern ideal appears at its logical end. everything is modular, as the city appears composed by a series of standardized units; there is seemingly complete equality in daily life.” – matt fajkus

04/06/2012 § 1 Comment

film still: jacques tati, playtime (1967)


more glass.  more people.  less reflections.

the latest issue of pastelgram was recently released.  above an image and excerpt from one of the features written by matt fajkus.  austinites can get pastelgrams at domy books and champion contemporary.  houstonites can find it at domy books and art palace.  fort worthians – buy it at the modern art museum.  marfans can get a copy of pastelgrams at the marfa book company.  or just have a copy mailed to you.  i don’t care how you get it.  just read it!



a young hare




[title + image]     to read more of matt fajkus’s musing on playtime and get a glimpse of the latest issue, visit pastelgram’s website.

“he would have like to explore it to its extreme limits, to study all the possibilities it offered him, to discover it plant by plant and branch by branch. i say he would have liked to, but in fact we found him continually reappearing above our heads, with the busy quick movements of a wild animal which always seems, even when squatting and still, to be on the point of jumping away.” [1]

23/05/2012 § Leave a comment

nicolas allinder, conceptual image for andros workshop (2012)


over the past four months, working under the guidance of murray legge, i spent countless hours designing a project for a fictitious client on an island i’ve never been to and most likely will never step foot on.  the project was driven by the idea of being both close and far, of being completely entrenched in a community and yet capable of slipping away into isolation.  the idea developed from the condition of living in an archipelago in which you are connected to all the surrounding islands by proximity, history and culture, and yet firmly isolated on your own island, history and culture.  the mediterranean both binds and separates these communities who, despite being so close and sharing so much can’t seem to get along.  i’d be lying if i said i didn’t dream about this place that doesn’t exist.


here there, there here [2]

a young hare




[image]     product of a young hare.

[1]    today’s title comes from:

Calvino, Italo. The Baron in the Trees. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1977. 45. Print.

[2]     this is a reference to a project done by the kind folks at rolu.  check it out!

“so i read and read, a little of everything, haphazard, but books of philosophy especially. heavy stuff, i grant you; but when you get a little of it inside you, you grow light as a feather and begin to touch the clouds. i believe i was always a bit queer in my head. but these readings quite finished me. when i no longer knew what i was about, i would shut up the library, and go off along a little path that led down a steep incline to a solitary strip of seashore. the sight of that monotonous expanse of water filled me with a strange awe that changed little by little into unbearable oppression.” [1]

04/02/2012 § Leave a comment

dag alveng, the photographer shoots himself (1981)


this semester started with a bang.  currently catching up with a lot of projects.  hope to post soon.


gone for a dip

a young hare




[title]     today’s title comes from the book the late mattia pascal by luigi pirandello.  today’s excerpt was taken from the guttenberg press website’s version of the text found here.

[image]     the image today comes from dag alveng.  for more of his photography visit his website… here.

[previous levitation]     s.2011 and f.2011.

“l’esprit est aussi subtil et insaisissable qu’un souffle. il est une energie qui circule entre les etres et les choses. il voyage avec la lumiere, les vents, les nuages ou les vagues, s’immisce dans les pierres, les plantes et animaux. il se manifeste aux frontieres du visible, dans une dimension que seul l’imaginaire peut penetrer.”

16/01/2012 § Leave a comment



all photographs by henry roy
from top:
es vedra smoking, ibiza (2005)
congo river, brazzaville (2002)
two old men watching, tanger (2008)


happy to see henry roy’s book, spirit, published by gottlund verlag is now available at twelve books.  henry couples a series of photographs from across europe and africa with a set of his short stories.  i’m honored to have worked with henry on the translation from french to english.  last year henry roy started a photoblog, portrait lab, which contains his own photographs, as well as, guest contributions.  check it out!


happy monday

a young hare




[title]     today’s title comes from the introduction to henry roy’s book spirit.

“the experience which i am attempting to describe by one tentative approach after another is very precise and is immediately recognizable. but it exists at a level of perception and feeling which is probably preverbal – hence, very much, the difficulty of writing about it.” [1]

13/01/2012 § 5 Comments

michael kenna, forest edge, hokuto, hokkaido, japan (2004)


“life is not a walk across an open field” –

russian proverb

shelf of a field, green, within easy reach, the grass on it not yet high, papered with blue sky through which yellow has grown to make pure green, the surface colour of what the basin of the world contains, attendant field, shelf between sky and sea, fronted with a curtain of printed trees, friable at its edges, the corners of it rounded, answering the sun with heat, shelf on a wall through which from time to time a cuckoo is audible, shelf on which she keeps the invisible and intangible jars of her pleasure, field that i have always known, i am lying raised up on one elbow wondering whether in any direction i can see beyond where you stop.  the wire around you is the horizon.

remember what it was like to be sung to sleep.  if you are fortunate, the memory will be more recent than childhood.  the repeated lines of words and music are like paths.  these paths are circular and the rings they make are linked together like those of a chain.  you walk along these paths and are led by them in circles.  the field upon which you walk and upon which the chain is laid is the song.

into the silence, which was also at times a roar, of my thoughts and questions forever returning to myself to search there for an explanation of my life and its purpose, into this concentrated tiny hub of dense silent noise, came the cackle of a hen from a nearby back garden, and at that moment that cackle, its distinct sharp-edged existence beneath a blue sky with white clouds, induced in me an intense awareness of freedom.  the noise of the hen, which i could not even see, was an event (like a dog running or an artichoke flowering) in a field which until then had been awaiting a first event in order to become itself realisable.  i knew that in that field i could listen to all sounds, all music.

from the city centre there are two ways back to the satellite city in which i live: the main road with a lot of traffic, and a side road which goes over a level crossing.  the second is quicker unless you have to wait for a train at the crossing.  during the spring and early summer i invariably take the side road, and i find myself hoping that the level crossing will be shut.  in the angle between the railway lines and the road there is field, surrounded on its other two sides by trees.  the grass is tall in the field and in the evening when the sun is low, the green of the grass divides into light and dark grains of colour – as might happen to a bunch of parsley if lit up by the beam of a powerful lamp at night.  blackbirds hid in the grass and rise up from it.  their coming and going remains quite unaffected by the trains.

this field affords me considerable pleasure.  why then do i not sometimes walk there – it is quite near my flat – instead of relying on being stopped there by the closed level crossing?  it is a question of contingencies overlapping.  the events which take place in the field – two birds chasing one another, a cloud crossing the sun and changing the colour of the green – acquire a special significance because they occur during the minute or two during which i am obliged to wait.  it is as though these minutes fill a certain area of time which exactly fits the spatial area of the field.  time and space conjoin.

– john berger [2]


walking in a field

a young hare




[1]     berger, john. about looking. new york: pantheon, 1980: p. 192 – 193. print.

[2]     ibid

“waiting is an act of great purity. something is being accomplished, in a regular and steady way, by doing nothing at all.”

24/08/2011 § Leave a comment

chris engman, the disappearance (2006)


preparing for another semester

a young hare




[title]     Davenport, Guy. The Death of Picasso: New & Selected Writing. Washington, D.C.: Shoemaker & Hoard, 2003. Print.

[image]     more of chris engman’s work can be found here.

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