It’s been less than a fortnight since I left Bundanon, but already it’s feeling like a fairly pivotal turning point in my creative life.
Having moved fairly smoothly from school to university to the workplace, finding myself in jobs (journalism/newspaper editor) that offer plenty of challenges and require a substantial amount of attention from my mind, I’ve never really had the opportunity to spend any great stretch of time on creative projects.
Those that I have pursued have been, invariably, either spontaneous or reactive. My two novel length works-in progress both began life as short stories that simply got out of hand, taking on a life of their own. On the photography front, I’ve been very much of the verité school, shooting what I see, the world ‘as it is’ without my interference. I acknowledge, of course, the choices I make in subject selection, framing, composition and the like, but have rarely been active in setting up or directing a scene or an image. I’d figured this was a stylistic choice, a philosophical consideration of photography as documentation and momentary, but am now wondering whether it was simply a lack of time.
On the writing side, the hope entering the fortnight had been to finish a few projects, in any spare time that may have emerged around our main major ‘life between buildings’ project. Yet after two weeks these never even made it out of the suitcase – this was a place and a time for thinking afresh, for inventing/crafting not polishing; opening doors not closing them.
So instead of wrapping up existing projects, I seem to have started more than I can keep track of. Central is the life between buildings song cycle, to which I intend to co-contribute text along with Rhiannon and Danielle, and work on more visual ideas that will hopefully augment its final presentation.
‘The Last Supper’ is to be a 12-song song-cycle, co-created by the life between buildings team of Serena Armstrong, Danielle Carey, Rhiannon Cook, Julian Day, and, in there as well, me.
The cycle will build upon written texts exploring the last meals of condemned death row prisoners, combining the irresistible motifs of Food and Death.
The idea is to create a work that can stand alone in a traditional performative sense, incorporating visual elements , but there is also strong interest in looking at the ‘event’ possibilities the idea holds, to explore its potential in installation or even ‘happening’ terms, such as incorporating the work into an actual meal with audience interaction, a blurring of the active performer/ passive audience lines.
This idea developed throughout Bundanon and grew richer each day, particularly in the second week. We would share our thoughts and ideas for it, discussing its difficulties and problematic aspects as well as what intrigued us.
Once the idea had developed to a point where we could all see where it might be heading, we were each able to work on bringing our various strengths to it, working on potential texts and some basic musical possibilities.
Amidst all this, as I was being drawn further and further into the surrounds, I also found some windows to experiment with some visual ideas. With a fortnight to spend free of daily concerns (cooking and grooming matters notwithstanding), my early ideas for some photographic series developed, expanded and then shifted quite substantially. For reasons I expect I’ll explore at greater length down the line, I’ve developed a fascination bordering on obsession with red. Red in all its forms, but particularly red as a thread – in this case wool.
‘Threads’ are a theme I’ve begun to quietly follow, but the red is quite recent and appeared quite suddenly, almost violently. Apart from its symbolic elements, which I’ll discuss down the track, I’m quite taken by the difficulties cameras appear to have in processing reds of this intensity.
My early red interventions at Bundanon were quite rushed and quickly executed. I wasn’t sure if the idea even had any lasting worth, and hadn’t fully understood what it was I was trying to say. Spending more and more time wrapping objects, winding the wool around the man-made or natural items that drew me, that seemed to be asking for a red challenge, or echo, I found the time and space to think more about what it was I was trying to do, and say.
I had gone into Bundanon thinking I would look at spending more time on photo manipulation – working with layers to get my photos to look at the relationship between the ‘observed world’, text and music. But instead of post-production and scanning, layering disparate images for a common cause, I found I was more and more drawn towards creating these layers in real-time and real-space.
The poetics of the bush and its musicality was utterly enthralling. I couldn’t face sitting at my computer trying to recreate when here was a chance to create directly, to interact with the natural surroundings and enter into a type of direct dialogue.
Hence the paperbark/paperback project, the Byron rock, the Haydn gum, and variations on the ‘poe-tree’ project. Many more ideas have also been sifting through since my return, with the urge to create kicked along again after seeing Jeanette Winterson, a favourite author, speak at the Sydney Opera House to open the Sydney Writers’ Festival on Tuesday (more about that for another post).
While perhaps seemingly like a fairly haphazard hotchpotch of concepts and threads, each, in their way, has been spawned by the Bundanon and life between buildings collaboration. In the past I’ve tended to work fairly individually, drawing upon my own ideas and bouncing them up against, well, myself.
I think what I’ve taken from this experience is not just the amazing time I had working closely with such creative, inspiring artists (and good friends!), but I have learned how ideas bounced around can grow and develop and take on a life of their own, thanks to the enthusiasm and input of others.
So while we have a common cause in our central project, we all each have other strands to follow, other threads to explore, that each developed, to some extent out, of the collaborative process. The actual ‘practice’ part, the writing or the photography is, for me, still a fairly personal path. I tend to process ideas over a longer period than some, then quietly chip away at them, channelling through my work things I can’t always explain in discussion. I think my strength in working with others is more likely to be a piece of text or a photo that tells a story, rather than ‘discussed’ input as such – that may change, but my work seems to come from a part of me I don’t necessarily have access to in conversation form.
To spend two weeks immersed in this, in such a deeply inspiring place as Bundanon, has been an experience that will ripple through my life for some time.
This was an inspiring group of artists to spend time with, and I like to think we’ll be able to keep working together, even if loosely, under the life between buildings umbrella.
- Benjamin
Saturday, May 24
Thursday, May 15
it's oh so quiet...
Actually, it's anything from quiet. My head is buzzing with ideas, thoughts and inspiration; my heart is singing and the world around me seems crazy and surreal...
We're back. If it's seemed a little quiet here at the life between buildings projects, it's not that we've slackened off. The internet went down in the last four days of our residency at Bundanon. Gasp. Horror. Just how did some of us cope... Well, it was tough. Believe me. But we survived. And we're now back grappling with the real world and yearning for quiet solitude, strolls along the river bank, wanders through the bush, and endless hours of creativity. Oh to be back in creative la la land again...
Anyhow, give us a few days to readjust back to the chaos of life and we'll tell you more about our last few days, along with some reflections about our residency.
In the meantime, pop on over to alittlehummingbird's and benjamin's photos to get a small taste of some of the things we captured on digital film.
We're back. If it's seemed a little quiet here at the life between buildings projects, it's not that we've slackened off. The internet went down in the last four days of our residency at Bundanon. Gasp. Horror. Just how did some of us cope... Well, it was tough. Believe me. But we survived. And we're now back grappling with the real world and yearning for quiet solitude, strolls along the river bank, wanders through the bush, and endless hours of creativity. Oh to be back in creative la la land again...
Anyhow, give us a few days to readjust back to the chaos of life and we'll tell you more about our last few days, along with some reflections about our residency.
In the meantime, pop on over to alittlehummingbird's and benjamin's photos to get a small taste of some of the things we captured on digital film.
Friday, May 9
Art and Environmental Sustainability discussion
I've reached a turning point in my creative practice and I'm confused about where to go next (you might want to read more about this over in a little hummingbird land). Reduce, reuse, recycle and educate is a mantra I've adopted in most areas of my life - transport, food consumption, communal living etc... Yet when it comes to art, I'm full of contradictions: I often use chemically-based paints on newly-acquired sweatshop-made canvasses; I'm creating material objects that people can add to their collection of consumerables
So what does it mean to make environmentallly sustainable creative work? Is it simply about the material we use? Or is it about artistic intention?
Jules, Rhi and I over the next few hours will chat online about our ideas on the function of art and their relation to environmental sustainability. Feel free join in with us!
So what does it mean to make environmentallly sustainable creative work? Is it simply about the material we use? Or is it about artistic intention?
Jules, Rhi and I over the next few hours will chat online about our ideas on the function of art and their relation to environmental sustainability. Feel free join in with us!
Thursday, May 8
Bundanon - Day Nine
I bounced out of bed at 7am yesterday, despite my insomnia pushing my body through until about 3am the previous night (crawling into bed at 5:30am isn’t unheard of around these parts either – who needs sleep at times like these!). Aside from wanting some alone time to reflect, I was keen to spend the morning by the river… To think about where I’m at, maybe take advantage of the soft morning light (for photography), but mostly just to meditate and soak up my surroundings. I was surprised at the amount of bird life by the shore – willy wag tails, magpies, wrens, kookaburras, king fishers, crimson rosellas all within a few metres of each other. To be a part of that! Wow!
Of course I wouldn’t dream of breaking the Bundanon Artist’s In Residency ‘no swimming’ rule, so I just…um…errr…danced naked across the sand and dipped my toes in? Yes, that’s what I did. The cold certainly didn’t force a sudden intake of breath as I dived in. And I didn’t shout songs of excitement to the birds as I spooned handfuls of icy water over my head. Neither was I able to experience the cool rush of water swirling around my naked body… so… um… yeah I just sat…. oops, I mean danced… and imagined all of the things that might have happened if I’d swum… As I basked in the sun pretending to let my imaginary drenched locks of hair dry, I watched a willy wag tail flit along the shores, glancing quizzically every so often in my direction (HA - he reminded me of the raven and goat that Boyd obsessively painted as a symbol of voyeurism). I wrote in my journal, took a few photos and breathed in deeply… Ah!
Anyway, it seems the sheer power of imagination made for a sensational day. The dreams of an entirely imaginary morning swim refreshed my mind and soothed my spirit. On returning to my studio, a few tangible ideas for writing began to emerge. Fingers itched. My pen began dancing wildly across the room. And so I wrote! Words. On paper. There’re still very raw, but I’ve started. It’s all very exciting.
Let me explain my excitement: I wasn’t sure how much writing I’d actually do while down here. Having experienced intense writer’s block in the last few months, I’d made the decision to focus on photography, painting and sculpture during the residency. In the lead up to the residency, however, I felt like my blockage was starting to dissipate. This was mostly due to a rediscovery of my passion for letter writing. Through a series of letters to a friend, I found words began flowing from my fingers again. It was a fascinating process. And prompted me to commit, while at Bundanon, to daily blogging and scrawling out morning pages. It’s still a slowly unravelling process, however, and I decided to only write creatively if my fingers started itching to throw words on the page. No expectations. No pressure. But this morning my fingers started itching! Hoorah!
These ten days have taught me a lot about my creative process. Like Julian, ‘lounging about, unwinding, enthusiastically talking up ideas, and idly noodling’ – and I’d add, debating hardcore issues, cooking, reading, watching movies and teasing Jules himself – has been crucial for getting the creative juices flowing. Yet so often I’ll feel guilty if it isn’t immediately obviously that what I’m doing is directly productive towards my end goal. Here I’m learning that so much time for me is spent thinking conceptually about an idea – planning, discussing, exploring abstractly - the nitty gritty craftsmanship of creating a work, words on paper, paint on canvass, emerges much later. I love creating first in my head and bouncing those ideas around, exploring all the options and thinking laterally for further options… So talking, lounging around, cooking etc. are really important and valid! Hmm… brains are such strange things…
Speaking of my brain, the contents of it are currently sprawled across our newly acquired second art studio. Not actual brain bits, of course, just a symbolic representation. With paper, textas, nails and creative enthusiasm, I created a giant mind map of our song cycle/installation when I got back from my river adventure. It isn’t often that I have so much space to spread out, so why not! I also thought it was time for the group to start focusing in on our project. What was actually achievable? What ideas should we keep exploring? Were there actual components that we could start writing/composing? Who wanted to do what? What was the scale of the project? I figured having a central space to summarise our ideas – one drawing board rather than five – would be useful for 1. Ensuring that we are on the same wavelength, 2. Nutting out some achievable goals for the final four days of our residency, 3. Ensuring that we found a model that allowed each one of us to use our strengths to their advantage.
Our discussion in the evening demonstrated just how far we’ve come in finding a collaborative model that seems achievable, despite all our initial concerns. We’re finding ways of working together. We’re moving forward. There are still challenges ahead, but I think we’ve reached another turning point. I’m really excited.
We’re going on an adventure tonight… To sleep in the rundown shack across the paddock – the one in which the Swiss artist built her embroidery installation. A night of creative storytelling, poetry reading, insomnia, mandolin playing and – if Rhiannon actually manages to find her way ‘home’ this time – chocolate munching!
Dammit I don’t want to go home…
Of course I wouldn’t dream of breaking the Bundanon Artist’s In Residency ‘no swimming’ rule, so I just…um…errr…danced naked across the sand and dipped my toes in? Yes, that’s what I did. The cold certainly didn’t force a sudden intake of breath as I dived in. And I didn’t shout songs of excitement to the birds as I spooned handfuls of icy water over my head. Neither was I able to experience the cool rush of water swirling around my naked body… so… um… yeah I just sat…. oops, I mean danced… and imagined all of the things that might have happened if I’d swum… As I basked in the sun pretending to let my imaginary drenched locks of hair dry, I watched a willy wag tail flit along the shores, glancing quizzically every so often in my direction (HA - he reminded me of the raven and goat that Boyd obsessively painted as a symbol of voyeurism). I wrote in my journal, took a few photos and breathed in deeply… Ah!
Anyway, it seems the sheer power of imagination made for a sensational day. The dreams of an entirely imaginary morning swim refreshed my mind and soothed my spirit. On returning to my studio, a few tangible ideas for writing began to emerge. Fingers itched. My pen began dancing wildly across the room. And so I wrote! Words. On paper. There’re still very raw, but I’ve started. It’s all very exciting.
Let me explain my excitement: I wasn’t sure how much writing I’d actually do while down here. Having experienced intense writer’s block in the last few months, I’d made the decision to focus on photography, painting and sculpture during the residency. In the lead up to the residency, however, I felt like my blockage was starting to dissipate. This was mostly due to a rediscovery of my passion for letter writing. Through a series of letters to a friend, I found words began flowing from my fingers again. It was a fascinating process. And prompted me to commit, while at Bundanon, to daily blogging and scrawling out morning pages. It’s still a slowly unravelling process, however, and I decided to only write creatively if my fingers started itching to throw words on the page. No expectations. No pressure. But this morning my fingers started itching! Hoorah!
These ten days have taught me a lot about my creative process. Like Julian, ‘lounging about, unwinding, enthusiastically talking up ideas, and idly noodling’ – and I’d add, debating hardcore issues, cooking, reading, watching movies and teasing Jules himself – has been crucial for getting the creative juices flowing. Yet so often I’ll feel guilty if it isn’t immediately obviously that what I’m doing is directly productive towards my end goal. Here I’m learning that so much time for me is spent thinking conceptually about an idea – planning, discussing, exploring abstractly - the nitty gritty craftsmanship of creating a work, words on paper, paint on canvass, emerges much later. I love creating first in my head and bouncing those ideas around, exploring all the options and thinking laterally for further options… So talking, lounging around, cooking etc. are really important and valid! Hmm… brains are such strange things…
Speaking of my brain, the contents of it are currently sprawled across our newly acquired second art studio. Not actual brain bits, of course, just a symbolic representation. With paper, textas, nails and creative enthusiasm, I created a giant mind map of our song cycle/installation when I got back from my river adventure. It isn’t often that I have so much space to spread out, so why not! I also thought it was time for the group to start focusing in on our project. What was actually achievable? What ideas should we keep exploring? Were there actual components that we could start writing/composing? Who wanted to do what? What was the scale of the project? I figured having a central space to summarise our ideas – one drawing board rather than five – would be useful for 1. Ensuring that we are on the same wavelength, 2. Nutting out some achievable goals for the final four days of our residency, 3. Ensuring that we found a model that allowed each one of us to use our strengths to their advantage.
Our discussion in the evening demonstrated just how far we’ve come in finding a collaborative model that seems achievable, despite all our initial concerns. We’re finding ways of working together. We’re moving forward. There are still challenges ahead, but I think we’ve reached another turning point. I’m really excited.
We’re going on an adventure tonight… To sleep in the rundown shack across the paddock – the one in which the Swiss artist built her embroidery installation. A night of creative storytelling, poetry reading, insomnia, mandolin playing and – if Rhiannon actually manages to find her way ‘home’ this time – chocolate munching!
Dammit I don’t want to go home…
Bundanon - Day Eight
I'm writing this entry two days late. In fact, that day was a bit of a washout for me; I was hungry, grumpy and tired and to be honest I can't remember much about it. So instead I'm going to share with you a few micro-observations from my last few days.
1. The Island
Apparently somewhere near here there is a mystical island that has held fascination for many of the AIRs (Artists In Residence - official Bundanon lingo). Yesterday I was passed by Maggie our English visual artist comrade, her shoes in hand and clothes hitched around her waist, whispering to me about her quest to wade to the island in question, high tide or not. Later Dan mentioned with eager wide eyes about the same fabled land.
This morning Rhi actually found the island and said it's no big deal.
2. Grasshopper.
Yesterday at dusk a green grasshopper flew out of nowhere and landed on my camera. Dan and I took about 90 or so photos of him. Or her. He (or she) was extremely photogenic and seemed to enjoy posing: lifting each leg one at a time and grinning the whole time. Good chap.
3. Pulpit Rock.
In recent months I've been obsessed with the time-lapse feature on my digital camera, taking endless shots of the Bendigo Prison before it closed. I have found very few interesting things to capture in this way here at Bundanon, however. My one idea has to mimic Arthur Boyd's obsession with Pulpit Rock, a fairly grand bunch of rocks on top of one of the biggest hills around here. He painted those rocks endlessly it seems, mostly captured at the scene from across the river. I've been doing the same from different times of the day using my camera. I've discovered that still this is a fairly uninteresting idea. The most interesting thing about it is the way that the water changes over time, prompting Danielle to suggest that that might be the angle I'm looking for. Perhaps. So far it's entailed braving endless lantana at high tide, although the resulting peace and quiet waiting for the shots to unravel has been really rewarding. Enforced reflection.
4. Snack.
I have lived an enforced Snack-free diet these past two days (i.e. Cadbury Snack, the cheapest and crummist chocolate around to which I am hopelessly addicted). Despite the fact that Rhiannon has gone on a Snack-run to Sydney for me I am doing surprisingly OK. Dan has helped by making me non-Vegan rice pudding as have others with their superb cooking. Except whoever took the extra mandarins this morning shall get a stern talking to.
5. Piano.
It has taken 10 or so days of lounging about, unwinding, enthusiastically talking up ideas and idly noodling but I have really recaptured my interest in playing the piano. It's been great having a grand piano right outside my bedroom upon which I can muck around at any time of the day (except, it transpires, at 10am when certain people are sleeping).
That is all.
1. The Island
Apparently somewhere near here there is a mystical island that has held fascination for many of the AIRs (Artists In Residence - official Bundanon lingo). Yesterday I was passed by Maggie our English visual artist comrade, her shoes in hand and clothes hitched around her waist, whispering to me about her quest to wade to the island in question, high tide or not. Later Dan mentioned with eager wide eyes about the same fabled land.
This morning Rhi actually found the island and said it's no big deal.
2. Grasshopper.
Yesterday at dusk a green grasshopper flew out of nowhere and landed on my camera. Dan and I took about 90 or so photos of him. Or her. He (or she) was extremely photogenic and seemed to enjoy posing: lifting each leg one at a time and grinning the whole time. Good chap.
3. Pulpit Rock.
In recent months I've been obsessed with the time-lapse feature on my digital camera, taking endless shots of the Bendigo Prison before it closed. I have found very few interesting things to capture in this way here at Bundanon, however. My one idea has to mimic Arthur Boyd's obsession with Pulpit Rock, a fairly grand bunch of rocks on top of one of the biggest hills around here. He painted those rocks endlessly it seems, mostly captured at the scene from across the river. I've been doing the same from different times of the day using my camera. I've discovered that still this is a fairly uninteresting idea. The most interesting thing about it is the way that the water changes over time, prompting Danielle to suggest that that might be the angle I'm looking for. Perhaps. So far it's entailed braving endless lantana at high tide, although the resulting peace and quiet waiting for the shots to unravel has been really rewarding. Enforced reflection.
4. Snack.
I have lived an enforced Snack-free diet these past two days (i.e. Cadbury Snack, the cheapest and crummist chocolate around to which I am hopelessly addicted). Despite the fact that Rhiannon has gone on a Snack-run to Sydney for me I am doing surprisingly OK. Dan has helped by making me non-Vegan rice pudding as have others with their superb cooking. Except whoever took the extra mandarins this morning shall get a stern talking to.
5. Piano.
It has taken 10 or so days of lounging about, unwinding, enthusiastically talking up ideas and idly noodling but I have really recaptured my interest in playing the piano. It's been great having a grand piano right outside my bedroom upon which I can muck around at any time of the day (except, it transpires, at 10am when certain people are sleeping).
That is all.
Forcing others to suffer for your art
The other night we watched Irreversible and Funny Games, two films that deliberately target our vulnerability to manipulation through our trust of the art object, or any structure for that matter. This has led to us to ideas of manipulating our audience in various ways - through disruption, playing with the theatrical 'fourth wall', toying with narrative flow, injecting 'twists' along the way, inflicting mild (and hopefully harmless) forms of torture, delaying or denying gratification, et al.
Irreversible played with this obviously through its structure (told backwards, so that your point of view towards the situations and your sense of empathy towards the characters need continual readjustment) but also through more insiduous means - the first 30 minutes, for instance, feature a sub-sonic tone imperceptable by the ear but felt strongly in the body, creating a very tangible sense of unrest, whereas the final 10 minutes feature very strong strobe lighting that could potentially trigger seizures in those suffering from photosensitive epilepsy (I think there's a warning to this effect on the DVD cover).
Whilst I have great empathy for people with epilepsy (my father being a sufferer) and would therefore never condone this, I nonetheless wonder if the following scenario taken from today's paper could be interesting to us from the 'disruption' point of view.
Hackers' posts designed to cause epileptic fits
Computer attacks typically do not inflict physical pain on their victims.
But in a rare example of an attack apparently motivated by malice rather than money, hackers recently bombarded the Epilepsy Foundation's website with hundreds of pictures and links to pages with rapidly flashing images.
The breach triggered severe migraines and near-seizure reactions in some site visitors who viewed the images. People with photosensitive epilepsy can get seizures when they're exposed to flickering images, a response also caused by some video games and cartoons.
The attack happened when hackers exploited a security hole in the foundation's publishing software that allowed them to quickly make numerous posts and overwhelm the site's support forums.
Within the hackers' posts were small flashing pictures and links - masquerading as helpful - to pages that exploded with kaleidoscopic images pulsating with different colors.
"They were out to create seizures," said Ken Lowenberg, senior director of Web and print publishing for the foundation, which is based in Landover, Maryland.
He said legitimate users are no longer able to post animated images to the support forum or create direct links to other sites, and it is now moderated around the clock. He said the FBI is investigating the breach.
Security experts said the attack highlights the dangers of websites giving visitors great freedom to post content to different parts of the site.
In another recent attack, hackers exploited a simple coding vulnerability in Senator Barack Obama's website to redirect users visiting the community blogs section to Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton's official campaign site.
The hackers who infiltrated the Epilepsy Foundation's site did not appear to care about profit. The harmful pages did not appear to try to push down code that would allow the hacker to gain control of the victims' computers, for instance.
"I count this in the same category of teenagers who think it's funny to put a cat in a bag and throw it over a clothesline - they don't realize how cruel it is," said Paul Ferguson, a security researcher at antivirus software maker Trend Micro Inc. "It was an opportunity waiting to happen for some mean-spirited kid."
In a similar attack this year, a piece of malicious code was released that disabled software that reads text aloud from a computer screen for blind and visually impaired people. That attack appeared to have been designed to cripple the computers of people using illegal copies of the software, researchers said.
May 8, 2008 - 1:41PM
AP
Irreversible played with this obviously through its structure (told backwards, so that your point of view towards the situations and your sense of empathy towards the characters need continual readjustment) but also through more insiduous means - the first 30 minutes, for instance, feature a sub-sonic tone imperceptable by the ear but felt strongly in the body, creating a very tangible sense of unrest, whereas the final 10 minutes feature very strong strobe lighting that could potentially trigger seizures in those suffering from photosensitive epilepsy (I think there's a warning to this effect on the DVD cover).
Whilst I have great empathy for people with epilepsy (my father being a sufferer) and would therefore never condone this, I nonetheless wonder if the following scenario taken from today's paper could be interesting to us from the 'disruption' point of view.
Hackers' posts designed to cause epileptic fits
Computer attacks typically do not inflict physical pain on their victims.
But in a rare example of an attack apparently motivated by malice rather than money, hackers recently bombarded the Epilepsy Foundation's website with hundreds of pictures and links to pages with rapidly flashing images.
The breach triggered severe migraines and near-seizure reactions in some site visitors who viewed the images. People with photosensitive epilepsy can get seizures when they're exposed to flickering images, a response also caused by some video games and cartoons.
The attack happened when hackers exploited a security hole in the foundation's publishing software that allowed them to quickly make numerous posts and overwhelm the site's support forums.
Within the hackers' posts were small flashing pictures and links - masquerading as helpful - to pages that exploded with kaleidoscopic images pulsating with different colors.
"They were out to create seizures," said Ken Lowenberg, senior director of Web and print publishing for the foundation, which is based in Landover, Maryland.
He said legitimate users are no longer able to post animated images to the support forum or create direct links to other sites, and it is now moderated around the clock. He said the FBI is investigating the breach.
Security experts said the attack highlights the dangers of websites giving visitors great freedom to post content to different parts of the site.
In another recent attack, hackers exploited a simple coding vulnerability in Senator Barack Obama's website to redirect users visiting the community blogs section to Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton's official campaign site.
The hackers who infiltrated the Epilepsy Foundation's site did not appear to care about profit. The harmful pages did not appear to try to push down code that would allow the hacker to gain control of the victims' computers, for instance.
"I count this in the same category of teenagers who think it's funny to put a cat in a bag and throw it over a clothesline - they don't realize how cruel it is," said Paul Ferguson, a security researcher at antivirus software maker Trend Micro Inc. "It was an opportunity waiting to happen for some mean-spirited kid."
In a similar attack this year, a piece of malicious code was released that disabled software that reads text aloud from a computer screen for blind and visually impaired people. That attack appeared to have been designed to cripple the computers of people using illegal copies of the software, researchers said.
May 8, 2008 - 1:41PM
AP
The Digestive System
Hey groop,
A short article on digestion I found on line for your 'digestion'.
Jx
Overview
To supply the body with the materials it needs for energy and the building of new tissue, nutrients have to pass through the digestive system. The latter is composed of organs (an organ being a group of tissues and cells, organized into a particular structure, that performs a specific function within an organism) and other structures through which nutrients move. The nutrients pass first through the mouth and then through the esophagus, stomach, small intestine, and large intestine, or colon. Collectively, these structures are known as the alimentary canal.
Nutrients advance through the alimentary canal to the stomach and small intestine, and waste materials continue from the small intestine to the colon (large intestine) and anus. Along the way, several glands play a role. A gland is a cell or group of cells that filters material from the blood, processes that material, and secretes it either for use again in the body or to be eliminated as waste. Among the glands that play a part in the digestive process are the salivary glands, liver, gallbladder, and pancreas. (The last three are examples of glands that are also organs.) The glands with a role in digestion secrete digestive juices containing enzymes that break down nutrients chemically into smaller molecules that are absorbed more easily by the body. There are also hormones involved in digestion-there are, for example, glandular cells in the lining of the stomach that make the hormone gastrin.
From the Mouth to the Stomach
The first stage of digestion is ingestion, in which food is taken into the mouth and then broken down into smaller pieces by the chewing action of the teeth. To facilitate movement of the food through the mouth and along the tongue, it is necessary for saliva to be present. Usually, the sensations of sight, taste, and smell associated with food set in motion a series of neural responses that induce the formation of saliva by the salivary glands in the mouth. Amylase, an enzyme in the saliva, begins the process of breaking complex carbohydrates into simple sugars. (The terms simple and complex in this context refer to chemical structures.)
By the time it is ready to be swallowed, food is in the form of a soft mass known as a bolus. The action of swallowing pulls the food down through the pharynx, or throat, and into the esophagus, a tube that extends from the bottom of the throat to the top of the stomach. (Note that for the most part, we are using human anatomy as a guide, but many aspects of the digestive process described here also apply to other higher animals, particularly mammals.) The esophagus does not take part in digestion but rather performs the function of moving the bolus into the stomach.
A wavelike muscular motion termed peristalsis, which consists of alternating contractions and relaxations of the smooth muscles lining the esophagus, moves the bolus through this passage. At the place where the esophagus meets the stomach, a powerful muscle called the esophageal sphincter acts as a valve to keep food and stomach acids from flowing back into the esophagus and mouth. (Although the most well-known sphincter muscle in the body is the one surrounding the anus, sometimes known simply as " the sphincter," in fact, sphincter is a general term for a muscle that surrounds, and is able to control the size of, a bodily opening.)
From the Stomach to the Small Intestine
Chemical digestion begins in the stomach, a large, hollow, pouchlike muscular organ. While food is still in the mouth, the stomach begins its production of gastric juice, which contains hydrochloric acid and pepsin, an enzyme that digests protein. Gastric juice is the material that breaks down the food. Once nerves in the cheeks and tongue are stimulated by the food, they send messages to the brain, which, in turn, alerts nerves in the stomach wall, stimulating the secretion of gastric juice before the bolus itself arrives in the stomach. Once the bolus touches the stomach lining, it triggers a second release of gastric juice, along with mucus that helps protect the stomach lining from the action of the hydrochloric acid. Three layers of powerful stomach muscles churn food into a thick liquid called chyme, which is pumped gradually through the pyloric sphincter, which connects the stomach small intestine.
The Small Intestine
The names of the small and large intestines can be confusing, rather like those of Upper and Lower Egypt in ancient history. In both cases, the adjectives seem to refer to one thing but actually refer to something else entirely. Thus, it so happens that Upper Egypt was south of Lower Egypt (because it was "upper" in elevation, not latitude), while the small intestine is, in fact, much longer than the large intestine. The reason is that small refers to its diameter rather than its length: though it is about 23 ft. (7 m) long, the small intestine is only 1 in. (2.5 cm) in diameter, while the large intestine, only 5 ft. (1.5 m) in length, is 3 in. (7.6 cm) across.
The small intestine, which connects the stomach and large intestine, is in three sections: the duodenum, jejunum, and ileum. About 1 ft. (0.3 m) long, the duodenum breaks down chyme from the stomach with the aid of the pancreas and gallbladder. The pancreas, a large gland located below the stomach, secretes pancreatic juice, which contains three enzymes that break down carbohydrates, fats, and proteins, into the duodenum through the pancreatic duct. The gallbladder empties bile, a yellowish or greenish fluid from the liver, into the duodenum when chyme enters that portion of the intestine. Although bile does not contain enzymes, it does have bile salts that help dissolve fats.
Digested carbohydrates, fats, proteins, and most of the vitamins, minerals, and iron in food are absorbed in the jejunum, which is about 4 ft. (1.2 m) long. Aiding this absorption are up to five million tiny finger-like projections called villi, which greatly increase the surface area of the small intestine, thus accelerating the rate at which nutrients are absorbed into the bloodstream. The remainder of the small intestine is taken up by the ileum, which is smaller in diameter and has thinner walls than the jejunum. It is the final site for absorption of some vitamins and other nutrients, which enter the circulatory system in plasma, a watery liquid in which red blood cells also are suspended.
As it moves through the circulatory system, plasma takes with it amino acids, enzymes, glycerol (a form of alcohol found in fats), and fatty acids, which it directs to the body's tissues for energy and growth. Plasma also contains waste products from the breakdown of proteins, including creatinine, uric acid, and ammonium salts. These constituents are moved to the kidneys, where they are filtered from the blood and excreted in the urine. But, of course, urine is not the only waste product excreted by the body; there is also the solid waste, processed through the large intestine, or colon.
The Large Intestine and Beyond
Like the small intestine, the large intestine is in segments. It rises up on the right side of the body (the ascending colon), crosses over to the other side underneath the stomach (the transverse colon), descends on the left side, (the descending colon), and forms an S shape (the sigmoid colon) before reaching the rectum and anus. In addition to its function of pumping solid waste, the large intestine removes water from the waste products—water that, when purified, will be returned to the bloodstream. In addition, millions of bacteria in the large intestine help produce certain B vitamins and vitamin K, which are absorbed into the bloodstream along with the water.
After leaving the sigmoid colon, waste passes through the muscular rectum and then the anus, the last point along the alimentary canal. In all, the movement of food through the entire length of the alimentary tract takes from 15 to 30 hours, with the majority of that time being taken up by activity in the colon. Food generally spends about three to five hours in the stomach, another four to five hours in the small intestine, and between five and 25 hours in the large intestine.
The transit time, or the amount of time it takes for food to move through the system, is a function of diet: for a vegetarian who eats a great deal of fiber, it will be on the short end, while for a meat eater who has just consumed a dinner of prime rib, it will take close to the maximum time. People who eat diets heavy in red meat or junk foods are also likely to experience a buildup, over time, of partially digested material on the linings of their intestines. Obviously, this is not a healthy situation, and to turn it around, a person may have to change his or her diet and perhaps even undergo some sort of colon-cleansing program. There is an easy way to test transit time in one's system: simply eat a large serving of corn or red beets, and measure how long it takes for these to fully work their way through the digestive system.
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A short article on digestion I found on line for your 'digestion'.
Jx
Overview
To supply the body with the materials it needs for energy and the building of new tissue, nutrients have to pass through the digestive system. The latter is composed of organs (an organ being a group of tissues and cells, organized into a particular structure, that performs a specific function within an organism) and other structures through which nutrients move. The nutrients pass first through the mouth and then through the esophagus, stomach, small intestine, and large intestine, or colon. Collectively, these structures are known as the alimentary canal.
Nutrients advance through the alimentary canal to the stomach and small intestine, and waste materials continue from the small intestine to the colon (large intestine) and anus. Along the way, several glands play a role. A gland is a cell or group of cells that filters material from the blood, processes that material, and secretes it either for use again in the body or to be eliminated as waste. Among the glands that play a part in the digestive process are the salivary glands, liver, gallbladder, and pancreas. (The last three are examples of glands that are also organs.) The glands with a role in digestion secrete digestive juices containing enzymes that break down nutrients chemically into smaller molecules that are absorbed more easily by the body. There are also hormones involved in digestion-there are, for example, glandular cells in the lining of the stomach that make the hormone gastrin.
From the Mouth to the Stomach
The first stage of digestion is ingestion, in which food is taken into the mouth and then broken down into smaller pieces by the chewing action of the teeth. To facilitate movement of the food through the mouth and along the tongue, it is necessary for saliva to be present. Usually, the sensations of sight, taste, and smell associated with food set in motion a series of neural responses that induce the formation of saliva by the salivary glands in the mouth. Amylase, an enzyme in the saliva, begins the process of breaking complex carbohydrates into simple sugars. (The terms simple and complex in this context refer to chemical structures.)
By the time it is ready to be swallowed, food is in the form of a soft mass known as a bolus. The action of swallowing pulls the food down through the pharynx, or throat, and into the esophagus, a tube that extends from the bottom of the throat to the top of the stomach. (Note that for the most part, we are using human anatomy as a guide, but many aspects of the digestive process described here also apply to other higher animals, particularly mammals.) The esophagus does not take part in digestion but rather performs the function of moving the bolus into the stomach.
A wavelike muscular motion termed peristalsis, which consists of alternating contractions and relaxations of the smooth muscles lining the esophagus, moves the bolus through this passage. At the place where the esophagus meets the stomach, a powerful muscle called the esophageal sphincter acts as a valve to keep food and stomach acids from flowing back into the esophagus and mouth. (Although the most well-known sphincter muscle in the body is the one surrounding the anus, sometimes known simply as " the sphincter," in fact, sphincter is a general term for a muscle that surrounds, and is able to control the size of, a bodily opening.)
From the Stomach to the Small Intestine
Chemical digestion begins in the stomach, a large, hollow, pouchlike muscular organ. While food is still in the mouth, the stomach begins its production of gastric juice, which contains hydrochloric acid and pepsin, an enzyme that digests protein. Gastric juice is the material that breaks down the food. Once nerves in the cheeks and tongue are stimulated by the food, they send messages to the brain, which, in turn, alerts nerves in the stomach wall, stimulating the secretion of gastric juice before the bolus itself arrives in the stomach. Once the bolus touches the stomach lining, it triggers a second release of gastric juice, along with mucus that helps protect the stomach lining from the action of the hydrochloric acid. Three layers of powerful stomach muscles churn food into a thick liquid called chyme, which is pumped gradually through the pyloric sphincter, which connects the stomach small intestine.
The Small Intestine
The names of the small and large intestines can be confusing, rather like those of Upper and Lower Egypt in ancient history. In both cases, the adjectives seem to refer to one thing but actually refer to something else entirely. Thus, it so happens that Upper Egypt was south of Lower Egypt (because it was "upper" in elevation, not latitude), while the small intestine is, in fact, much longer than the large intestine. The reason is that small refers to its diameter rather than its length: though it is about 23 ft. (7 m) long, the small intestine is only 1 in. (2.5 cm) in diameter, while the large intestine, only 5 ft. (1.5 m) in length, is 3 in. (7.6 cm) across.
The small intestine, which connects the stomach and large intestine, is in three sections: the duodenum, jejunum, and ileum. About 1 ft. (0.3 m) long, the duodenum breaks down chyme from the stomach with the aid of the pancreas and gallbladder. The pancreas, a large gland located below the stomach, secretes pancreatic juice, which contains three enzymes that break down carbohydrates, fats, and proteins, into the duodenum through the pancreatic duct. The gallbladder empties bile, a yellowish or greenish fluid from the liver, into the duodenum when chyme enters that portion of the intestine. Although bile does not contain enzymes, it does have bile salts that help dissolve fats.
Digested carbohydrates, fats, proteins, and most of the vitamins, minerals, and iron in food are absorbed in the jejunum, which is about 4 ft. (1.2 m) long. Aiding this absorption are up to five million tiny finger-like projections called villi, which greatly increase the surface area of the small intestine, thus accelerating the rate at which nutrients are absorbed into the bloodstream. The remainder of the small intestine is taken up by the ileum, which is smaller in diameter and has thinner walls than the jejunum. It is the final site for absorption of some vitamins and other nutrients, which enter the circulatory system in plasma, a watery liquid in which red blood cells also are suspended.
As it moves through the circulatory system, plasma takes with it amino acids, enzymes, glycerol (a form of alcohol found in fats), and fatty acids, which it directs to the body's tissues for energy and growth. Plasma also contains waste products from the breakdown of proteins, including creatinine, uric acid, and ammonium salts. These constituents are moved to the kidneys, where they are filtered from the blood and excreted in the urine. But, of course, urine is not the only waste product excreted by the body; there is also the solid waste, processed through the large intestine, or colon.
The Large Intestine and Beyond
Like the small intestine, the large intestine is in segments. It rises up on the right side of the body (the ascending colon), crosses over to the other side underneath the stomach (the transverse colon), descends on the left side, (the descending colon), and forms an S shape (the sigmoid colon) before reaching the rectum and anus. In addition to its function of pumping solid waste, the large intestine removes water from the waste products—water that, when purified, will be returned to the bloodstream. In addition, millions of bacteria in the large intestine help produce certain B vitamins and vitamin K, which are absorbed into the bloodstream along with the water.
After leaving the sigmoid colon, waste passes through the muscular rectum and then the anus, the last point along the alimentary canal. In all, the movement of food through the entire length of the alimentary tract takes from 15 to 30 hours, with the majority of that time being taken up by activity in the colon. Food generally spends about three to five hours in the stomach, another four to five hours in the small intestine, and between five and 25 hours in the large intestine.
The transit time, or the amount of time it takes for food to move through the system, is a function of diet: for a vegetarian who eats a great deal of fiber, it will be on the short end, while for a meat eater who has just consumed a dinner of prime rib, it will take close to the maximum time. People who eat diets heavy in red meat or junk foods are also likely to experience a buildup, over time, of partially digested material on the linings of their intestines. Obviously, this is not a healthy situation, and to turn it around, a person may have to change his or her diet and perhaps even undergo some sort of colon-cleansing program. There is an easy way to test transit time in one's system: simply eat a large serving of corn or red beets, and measure how long it takes for these to fully work their way through the digestive system.
www.answers.com
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