Electricians at the Sea Star Aquarium in Coburg, Germany were confounded by a series of mysterious blackouts affecting the aquarium of one Otto, an octopus. After staking it out one night they discovered that the cause was Otto himself who, seemingly annoyed by the 2000 watt spotlight above his tank, had figured out he could extinguish the offending light source by climbing onto the rim of his tank and squirting a jet of water in its direction.
This is not the first time the aquarium has had a problem with Otto, says Director Elfriede Kummer:
“Once we saw him juggling the hermit crabs in his tank, another time he threw stones against the glass damaging it. And from time to time he completely re-arranges his tank to make it suit his own taste better - much to the distress of his fellow tank inhabitants.”
Kummer supposes that the octopus is merely bored or perhaps attention starved although, considering his behavior, I’m inclined to theorize that Otto might have a little problem with the drink.
I hold certain, strange, Luddite beliefs, some of which I have written about here previously. Among them is the belief that mostly, photos are at their best when taken in black and white. The work of Anders Petersen just reinforces that belief.
Today, as most are no doubt aware, is Halloween — or Hallowe’en if you are a fan of unnecessary, European punctuation — a yearly occurrence when children roam the streets hoping to gorge themselves on obscene amounts of high fructose corn syrup, their stomachs roiling in protest, and women are encouraged to dress like hookers.
So, in commemoration, Ectomo presents the original, extended, profanity-laden version of “Windowlicker” by Aphex Twin, directed by Chris Cunningham; because few things are as terrifying as Richard David James’s face. Seriously, they should just make a mask out of it already and be done with it.
Dutch artist Fons Schiedon, has a show opening on November 6th and running through December 21st at Concrete Hermit in London called Revolution Deformation. The series of paintings features a character named Jesus — Not the Son of God — who had previously been known under the moniker of “Badboy Lensflare – The Albino in a Wheelchair”, operating as a cipher through which Schiedon explores “the subjects of transition, transformation and broken memory.” It makes for a series of haunting, nightmarish cartoons.
The very idea that a baby body requires different fluids than a full-grown corpse somehow arouses my fancy. The concepts of death and infancy are heavy on my mind these days, as my generation comes into power, as my father shakes his massive head and warns that gas and food prices will never go down again, that this is what he was warning us about since the fifties.
I think he prays that this isn’t the End of History. At some point, he says (or I remember him saying, admittedly different things), innovation and notable incidents will cease to occur or we will become inured to them, and history will stop. There will no longer be anything worth recording. Humanity will subside into limbo.
J. Peress’s 1 atmosphere diving suit — referred to as Tritonia or “Jim 1″, after Peress’s chief diver Jim Jarrett — preparing to explore the wreck of the RMS Lusitania in 1935.
Long time reader Narkalant — who also happens to write for one of the many, accursed videogame sites that populate the internet like so much acne, along with a number of others hacks you’ve never heard of — recently unveiled this wondrous fruit, scarred by the visage of the mighty, ubiquitous Octobee; the horrific symbol of Ectomo’s intertubular dominance and the shadowy figure that haunts the nightmares of its enemies.
Of course, as well executed as this particular pumpkin may be there is, unfortunately, the small problem of the use of the aforementioned horrible, mighty mascot. You see, for while one may praise Mr. Biv’s skill with the carving knife it must be pointed out that the rights to the graven image pictured above are held by our very own Miss Gauger, a cruel, heartless harpy of a woman who carries with her wherever she travels a valise filled with tiny, gibbering lawyers, with teeth like shards of glass and writs the likes of which could only have been drawn up in the deepest bowels of Hell. Picture Eleanor Abernathy except with more legalese.
So before you “Ooo” and “Aah” over Ryan’s work think about the man himself as he’s consumed by an army of lilliputian barristers, his screams matched only in volume and pitch by the cries of “COPYRIGHT” emanating from every one of Eliza’s six hundred and sixty six mouths. Just something to keep in mind should you find yourself contemplating a project like this one.
Daito Manabe’s newest art piece uses a machine which turns music into electrical pulses. By slapping electrodes on his face these pulses cause the muscles to twitch and jerk in a painful looking dance of contorted expressions. I’m not sure what the goal is here, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t find it fascinating to watch.
There’s something about photos of distant planets, like these taken by the Cassini-Huygens orbiter, that has always struck me as “fake” for lack of a better word. Amazing as they are, my first reaction to them is almost always that I am staring at scale models, the fishing line from which they are suspended from carefully airbrushed out. I suppose it is a by-product of these almost hyper-real, high definition images.
A triumph in the highly competitive field of gourd sculpture, depicting a member of the universe’s most infamous species of hunting and outdoors enthusiasts. The skill on display here is extraordinary. Take note of those animated eyes, the delicate, spiny hairs, and the exquisitely detailed folds of the signature, vulva-like mouth. Truly a work of superior Halloween craftsmanship.
I’ll be honest, I’m quite torn as to my feelings on the excellent Stephen Fry in America in the sense that I appreciate Fry’s knack for combining obvious intelligence and childlike curiosity, making of himself an irresistible tour guide. However, there is a part of me — call it cynical, self deprecating or just strange — that wishes Fry had approached this series with a style more akin to Sir David Attenborough. I imagine him, bedecked in safari-wear, sneaking up on groups of Americans and whispering into the camera of strange feeding rituals and interpersonal relationships, pausing only when the group has become aware of his presence, perhaps to accept a proffered bit of partially gnawed hotdog, his voice-over exclaiming excitedly that “The alpha male seems to have accepted me into the group!”
That or perhaps being followed everywhere by Jude Law, who occasionally whinges about how boring he finds him.
In sheer defiance of the World Wide Web Consortium's will, Ectomo was designed using a non-web-standard font. Luckily, it is included in the excellent font pack released by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society, which can be freely downloaded in Mac and PC formats here. Ectomo should still look fine without it, though.
Electricians at the Sea Star Aquarium in Coburg, Germany were confounded by a series of mysterious blackouts affecting the aquarium of one Otto, an octopus. After staking it out one night they discovered that the cause was Otto himself who, seemingly annoyed by the 2000 watt spotlight above his tank, had figured out he could extinguish the offending light source by climbing onto the rim of his tank and squirting a jet of water in its direction.
