Hubris
-
Keeping Angst From The Door: Easter On Andros
“Thank goodness for the weather. It gives us something to talk about besides politics. This Easter—which fell a week later than what Greeks call ‘Catholic Easter’—we tried to get away from what is…
-
Out of Doors
“After settling in the lovely town of Duxbury, I was invited to mount a four-month solo exhibition at the Art Complex Museum of Duxbury, for which event the curator also asked me to…
-
Recollections of a Child from the First Nuclear Age
“A regular camera shutter tripped at the initiation of a nuclear blast would deliver only a negative, assaulted by light so overwhelming that all detail is annihilated, leaving pure dark. Images of nuclear…
-
Easter Out of Season
“Conviviality: the word is born of the marriage of con and vivere, ‘with’ + ‘live.’ Quam ad convivendum? How can we beckon, hold, live with and for each other in the face of…
-
Drunk: Under the Trees & Under the Influence
Won Over By Reality By Tim Bayer BRIGHTON New York—(Weekly Hubris)—4/20/2015—The fermentation process we humans utilize to create beer, hard liquor, and other alcoholic beverages can also occur (naturally) when fruits are left…
-
Olive Picking On Andros
“Whenever I close my eyes I see olives. We’ve been picking seriously for four days and for a week before that I was selecting the best for eating, begging friends to come and…
-
Life in The Country
“I mention this only because it surprised me that the image did not immediately snuff itself out as such images generally do, but rather hung around as if it were an emissary from…
-
It Wasn’t the Theft of Fire but the Promethean Boast: Hubris
“In 1910, many in this country would have lynched heavyweight boxing champion Jack Johnson for not ‘knowing his place.’ When ‘the Big Smoke’ was stopped for speeding in rural Georgia, he told the…
-
Hope Springs
“At first, I noticed that the glass panes of the porch door were reflecting mauve and other tones in the aftermath of the sunset. It seemed I must be in Norway’s latitudes, though…
-
The Gripes of Wrath
“Whenever John and Martha pass in the hallway or in the elevator, they inquire whether or not the noise from the dogs bothers us. We shrug and say, ‘Oh well . . .…