An embarrassing display of disgust

Norway’s prime minister Erna Solberg’s conduct during the Nobel Peace Prize award ceremony yesterday agitated quite a few, clearly demonstrating her contempt, not only by abstaining from applauding a number of statements, but by clapping – and smiling – in a demonstratively condescending way. Yours truly not exempt:

Needless to say there’s been a lot of debate in the wake of the whole thing. The PM herself, and those sharing her view on nuclear weapons, keep trying to explain that applauding attitudes she does not share would be dishonest, and who am I to contradict that? Hell, I even agree.

Nevertheless the incident turned out to be a blatant show of the official Norway’s distaste for Nobel laureate ICAN, which surely cannot possibly have been the Nobel committee’s intention.

Better then to stay away, leaving the Norwegian parliament’s opposition, sharing ICAN’s views, to represent the official Norway.

That could have brought some dignity to the mockery we were forced to witness.

With all that said, I’m not at all sure that a unilateral disarmament is the way to go (in Norwegian), but this performance was nothing less than a blatant display of disgust. For which I’m deeply embarrassed.

Photo: Norway’s Prime Minister Erna Solberg (Conservatives). Photographer: Tomas Moss – http://www.icu.no.

This may be your last chance to get in touch with an old “buddy”, as AOL’s Instant Messenger, launched in May 1997, shuts down for good next Friday, having served large portions of the Internet community for 20 years.

So in about a week’s time: Requiescat in pace, AIM.

Photo: Turkey’s dictator Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. Photograph: Wikipedia.

Not a big fan of the self-absorption of our time, one can restrain one’s desire to share selfies at all hours, or actually all weeks, months or seasons (except perhaps every other year), but found oneself utterly unable to curb one’s impulse to publish this piece of vector graphics, indeed based on a rare selfie. For the mere fun of it, of course.

Posting a picture I shot of the below Michal Trpák umbrella man last year, I’m ashamed to admit that I completely ignored the above lady, hanging practically next to him – as well as the fly on the wall.

Unless, of course, she decided to join her fellow umbrella user, some time between last summer and two weeks ago. You never know.

Umbrella man, Michal Trpák.

K on Sun

Fully aware that I’ve posted both a photograph and a YouTube clip of this before, the last time we visited, a year and a half ago, David Černý’s 39-ton kinetic Kafka head didn’t move, so filmed this some two weeks ago.

In a tweet yesterday (please forgive its – Norwegian – language) I put it to my fellow tweeters that the longer an occupying force (Spain) is able to hold an occupied possession (Catalonia, since 1714), the bigger the chance of the occupation’s international approval:

Most of those protesting the statement objected that the occupation has lasted too long for the assertion to hold true.

Also see: Let Catalonia remain occupied, if they so desire

The baby, 2001. The sum total of ten of David Černý’s babies, 350 centimetres long and 260 centimetres tall, have been put up on different sites in Prague. This one, along with two others, on Kampa.

Il Commendatore, 2000, Anna Chromy (b 1940).

Bronze sculpture in memory of Mozart’s Don Giovanni premiere in Prague on 29 October 1787, put up in front of the National theatre, in which it premiered.

Ai Weiwei: Law of the Journey

 

Visited (in the Prague National Gallery, Trade Fair Palace) on 21 October 2017.

The exhibition Law of the Journey is Ai Weiwei’s multi-layered, epic statement on the human condition: an artist’s expression of empathy and moral concern in the face of continuous, uncontrolled destruction and carnage. Hosted in a building of symbolic historical charge – a former 1928 Trade Fair Palace which in 1939–1941 served as an assembly point for Jews before their deportation to the concentration camp in Terezín [aka Theresienstadt, blogger’s remark] – it works as a site-specific parable, a form of (public) speech, carrying a transgressive power of cathartic experience, but also a rhetoric of failure, paradox and resignation. Like Noah’s Ark, a monumental rubber boat is a contemporary vessel of forced exodus, floating hopelessly within the immense, oceanic abyss of the Gallery’s post-industrial, cathedral-like Big Hall. Set for a journey across the unknown and the infinite, an overcrowded life raft carries ‘the vanguard of their people’, as Hannah Arendt described the illegal and the stateless in her seminal 1943 essay, We Refugees: over 300 figures, squeezed within the confines of a temporary shelter, undertake a journey ‘far out into the unnavigated’, fleeing violence and danger.

— Source: The Prague National Gallery

All pictures blogger’s own.