Tourism is the straw grasped by desperate economies ravaged by mining and gas/oil development or abandoned by secon-homesteaders. Lucy Lippard, Undermining, (p. 94)
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The Quan Yin, replete with 24 hands, sits atop a koi pond, acting as the anchor of the main dining room. A floor to ceiling patterned screen frames the Quan Yin, and accentuates the statues hands, which represent her ability to render assistance. Through 3D projection mapping technology which utilizes animation to create visuals such as flowing water falls and growing moss, the Quan Yin is brought to life right before your eyes. Tao Downtown Website—> Decor Section.
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When artists present art in a public space dominated by vernacular use, video messages by all kinds of people with different kinds of voices and goals, aesthetic decisions are perhaps even more complex than when art is being crafted to be experienced in an art museum. Tom Sherman, “Vernacular Video”
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No regrets Coyote
We just come from such different sets of circumstance
I’m up all night in the studios
And you’re up early on your ranch
You’ll be brushing out a brood mare’s tail
While the sun is ascending
And I’ll just be getting home with my reel to reel…
There’s no comprehending
Just how close to the bone and the skin and the eyes
And the lips you can get
And still feel so alone
And still feel related
Like stations in some relay
You’re not a hit and run driver, no, no
Racing away
You just picked up a hitcher
A prisoner of the white lines on the freeway Joni Mitchell, “Coyote”, Hijera
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"Please, mister, is this Chicago?" "Chicago’s a long way
off yet, son,” said the conductor without smiling. “This is

And they all woke up, and for hours and hours the
telephone poles went by, and towns, frame houses, brick
factories with ranks and ranks of glittering windows,
dumping grounds, trainyards, plowed land, pasture, and
cows, and Milly got trainsick and Fainy’s legs felt like
they would drop off from sitting in the seat so long; some
places it was snowing and some places it was sunny, and
Milly kept getting sick and smelt dismally of vomit, and
it got dark and they all slept; and light again, and then
the towns and the framehouses and the factories all started
drawing together, humping into warehouses and elevators,
and the trainyards spread out as far as you could see and
it was Chicago.

John Dos Passos, 1919; USA Trilogy
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How can you not admire a system so effective at swallowing all
alternatives to itself that it can make something as abject as ‘working for love’ sound
admirable? Laura Kipnis, Against Love
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[Conceptual art] attains its own life by cannibalizing the half-lives of its sources. Looping back through multiple tropes to arrive at its own existence, the conceptual art work offers itself the protagonist of an old-fashioned, well-crafted story composed through the collision of historical referents rather than characters. Immobilized as we are in the present, it is perhaps more pleasurable to consider the confluence of activism, Situationism, and BC’s prior work on the blankness of fashion that occurs in “Get Rid of Yourself” than to ponder the workings of the World Trade Organization. Chris Kraus, Where Art Belongs
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And the best thing I can say to anyone who’s involved in the art graduate schools [is] “you are funding Goldman Sachs. Your student loan pyramid scheme funds Goldman Sachs and the world they are destroying. You are complicit. And you know what, I’m not! Fuck you!”

Matt Gleason Episode 423

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It was recently revealed that the company’s entire chain of command consisted of interns, including the CEO, who believed herself to be gaining valuable business experience regardless of compensation. As the largest petroleum refinement corporation in the world, many were baffled by where the profits were going if not to a single employee. Exhaustive record searching showed that the company had not been particularly lucrative the past decade and that all profits made since 2001 have went towards maintaining their enormously popular “free Starbucks in the morning” campaign for employees., 2013
Kicks just keep gettin’ harder to find
And all your kicks ain’t bringin’ you peace of mind Paul Revere and the Raiders
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