Nobuyoshi Araki, ABCD, 2003.

ABCD is a facsimile of Araki’s four over-sized notebooks lettered thus, which house enlarged contact prints from 94 rolls of film made by him in the early `70s; each is numbered and sequenced in chronological order.

The developer used to develop these negatives was over-heated, causing the emulsion to reticulate and break apart in random fashion. The physical, degenerative effect on the images, lends itself to existential interpretation as if they had survived the blast. The reservoir of images is extracted from everyday life and in essence chronicles Araki’s experience. There is little epiphany in the interpretation of subject matter, shifting from generic urban landscape to sexual acts. The marriage of the mundane and the erotic is at the core of Araki’s canon and here, in 1972, he is laying the conceptual foundation for all future work.

For a long time, memory researchers assumed that memories were like volumes stored in a library. When your brain remembered something, it was simply searching through the stacks and then reading aloud from whatever passage it discovered. But some scientists now believe that memories effectively get rewritten every time they’re activated, thanks to a process called reconsolidation. To create a synaptic connection between two neurons the associative link that is at the heart of all neuronal learning you need protein synthesis. Studies on rats suggest that if you block protein synthesis during the execution of learned behavior pushing a lever to get food, for instance the learned behavior disappears. It appears that instead of simply recalling a memory that had been forged days or months ago, the brain is forging it all over again, in a new associative context. In a sense, when we remember something, we create a new memory, one that is shaped by the changes that have happened to our brain since the memory last occurred to us.

Slate Magazine, “The Science of Eternal Sunshine by Steven, March 22, 2004

(via evoketheforms)

*The more often you recall a memory, the less accurate it becomes. Don’t forget! ;)

This is such a beautiful and riveting documentary. What I loved most was the humanizing and humorous way they narrated the stories of legendary scientists. Highly recommended, but it’s long, so maybe split it up between two bouts of insomnia.

Lately I’ve been wishing I had one desire
Something that would make me never want another
Something that would make it so that nothing mattered
All would be clear then

But I guess I’ll have to settle for a few brief moments
And watch it all dissolve into a single second
And try to write it down into a perfect sonnet
or one foolish line

'Cause that's all that you'll get so you'll have to accept
You are here then you’re gone

But I believe that lovers should be tied together and
Thrown into the ocean in the worst of weather
and left there to drown
Left there to drown in their innocence

But as for me I’m coming to the final chapter
I read all of the pages and there is still no answer
Only all that was before I know must soon come after
That is the only way it can be

So I stand in the sun
And I breathe with my lungs
Trying to spare me the weight of the truth

Saying everything you’ve ever seen was just a mirror
And you’ve spent your whole life sweating in an endless fever
And now you are laying in a bathtub full of freezing water
Wishing you were a ghost

But once you knew a girl and you named her Lover
And danced with her in kitchens through the greenest summer
But autumn came, She disappeared
You can’t remember where she said she was going to

But you know that she’s gone ‘cause she left you a song
That you don’t want to sing

We’re singing I believe that lovers should be chained together
And thrown into a fire with their songs and letters
And left there to burn
Left there to burn in their arrogance

But as for me I’m coming to my final failure
I’ve killed myself with changes trying to make things better
But I ended up becoming something other than what I had planned to be

Now I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers
And laid entwined together on a bed of clover
And left there to sleep
Left there to dream of their happiness

-Bright Eyes, “A Perfect Sonnet”