hätte schreiben – English Translation – Keybot Dictionary

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  www.sitesakamoto.com  
-Isabel: Was für ein Buch hätte schreiben müssen?
-Isabel: What book would have liked to write?
  www.qcplannedgiving.ca  
Doch warum leiht Ligon seinen Arbeiten nur fremde Stimmen und nicht die eigene? "Ich fand die Texte von anderen immer interessanter für meine Kunstwerke als alles was ich je hätte schreiben können," antwortet er.
In 1993, it wasn’t a text, but rather a photo book that served as a point of departure for Ligon’s investigations: Robert Mapplethorpe’s Black Book with erotic nudes of black men, among them the famous Man in a Polyester Suit (1980). Ligon cut 91 photos out of the book, framed them, and hung them in two horizontal rows on the wall. Between them, he placed another two rows with printed sheets of text—78 commentaries from prominent figures, witnesses of the time, and anonymous individuals on sexuality, race, AIDS, and the politically charged debates that the book unleashed between conservative and liberal camps. While Mapplethorpe’s book caused a scandal when it appeared in 1988, Ligon’s installation Notes on the Margin of the Black Book at the 1993 Whitney Biennial did much the same. It wasn’t only because Ligon’s installation met with attitudes that were hardly any less homophobic than those confronting Mapplethorpe’s book; he was treading on delicate territory, addressing as a black man white gay desire for the other skin color, and doing it without resentment. He let everyone have their say: Christian fundamentalists, intellectuals, art collectors, Mapplethorpe’s models. And his own boyfriend, who reports that even his closest acquaintances ask if he’s into "dark meat." The commentaries that Ligon brings together paint a portrait of American society while testifying to Ligon’s own personal search for identity. The way in which he resists even the simplest of categorizations is disturbing to the viewer; Ligon subjects us to the minefield of our own deadlocked prejudices and memories.
  www.db-artmag.de  
Doch warum leiht Ligon seinen Arbeiten nur fremde Stimmen und nicht die eigene? "Ich fand die Texte von anderen immer interessanter für meine Kunstwerke als alles was ich je hätte schreiben können," antwortet er.
In 1993, it wasn’t a text, but rather a photo book that served as a point of departure for Ligon’s investigations: Robert Mapplethorpe’s Black Book with erotic nudes of black men, among them the famous Man in a Polyester Suit (1980). Ligon cut 91 photos out of the book, framed them, and hung them in two horizontal rows on the wall. Between them, he placed another two rows with printed sheets of text—78 commentaries from prominent figures, witnesses of the time, and anonymous individuals on sexuality, race, AIDS, and the politically charged debates that the book unleashed between conservative and liberal camps. While Mapplethorpe’s book caused a scandal when it appeared in 1988, Ligon’s installation Notes on the Margin of the Black Book at the 1993 Whitney Biennial did much the same. It wasn’t only because Ligon’s installation met with attitudes that were hardly any less homophobic than those confronting Mapplethorpe’s book; he was treading on delicate territory, addressing as a black man white gay desire for the other skin color, and doing it without resentment. He let everyone have their say: Christian fundamentalists, intellectuals, art collectors, Mapplethorpe’s models. And his own boyfriend, who reports that even his closest acquaintances ask if he’s into "dark meat." The commentaries that Ligon brings together paint a portrait of American society while testifying to Ligon’s own personal search for identity. The way in which he resists even the simplest of categorizations is disturbing to the viewer; Ligon subjects us to the minefield of our own deadlocked prejudices and memories.
  dbartmag.com  
Doch warum leiht Ligon seinen Arbeiten nur fremde Stimmen und nicht die eigene? "Ich fand die Texte von anderen immer interessanter für meine Kunstwerke als alles was ich je hätte schreiben können," antwortet er.
In 1993, it wasn’t a text, but rather a photo book that served as a point of departure for Ligon’s investigations: Robert Mapplethorpe’s Black Book with erotic nudes of black men, among them the famous Man in a Polyester Suit (1980). Ligon cut 91 photos out of the book, framed them, and hung them in two horizontal rows on the wall. Between them, he placed another two rows with printed sheets of text—78 commentaries from prominent figures, witnesses of the time, and anonymous individuals on sexuality, race, AIDS, and the politically charged debates that the book unleashed between conservative and liberal camps. While Mapplethorpe’s book caused a scandal when it appeared in 1988, Ligon’s installation Notes on the Margin of the Black Book at the 1993 Whitney Biennial did much the same. It wasn’t only because Ligon’s installation met with attitudes that were hardly any less homophobic than those confronting Mapplethorpe’s book; he was treading on delicate territory, addressing as a black man white gay desire for the other skin color, and doing it without resentment. He let everyone have their say: Christian fundamentalists, intellectuals, art collectors, Mapplethorpe’s models. And his own boyfriend, who reports that even his closest acquaintances ask if he’s into "dark meat." The commentaries that Ligon brings together paint a portrait of American society while testifying to Ligon’s own personal search for identity. The way in which he resists even the simplest of categorizations is disturbing to the viewer; Ligon subjects us to the minefield of our own deadlocked prejudices and memories.
  www.rozaslaw.com  
Indem man zeigt, daß selbst, wenn die Fakten stimmen, die Arithmetik fehlerfrei und die numerische Ordnung richtig ist, daraus nicht zwangsläufig folgt, daß niemand dies ohne göttliche Inspiration hätte schreiben können.
By showing that even if the facts be true, the arithmetic faultless, and the collocation of the numerics honest, it does not follow that mere men could not have written this without Inspiration from above.
  www.db-artmag.com  
Doch warum leiht Ligon seinen Arbeiten nur fremde Stimmen und nicht die eigene? "Ich fand die Texte von anderen immer interessanter für meine Kunstwerke als alles was ich je hätte schreiben können," antwortet er.
In 1993, it wasn’t a text, but rather a photo book that served as a point of departure for Ligon’s investigations: Robert Mapplethorpe’s Black Book with erotic nudes of black men, among them the famous Man in a Polyester Suit (1980). Ligon cut 91 photos out of the book, framed them, and hung them in two horizontal rows on the wall. Between them, he placed another two rows with printed sheets of text—78 commentaries from prominent figures, witnesses of the time, and anonymous individuals on sexuality, race, AIDS, and the politically charged debates that the book unleashed between conservative and liberal camps. While Mapplethorpe’s book caused a scandal when it appeared in 1988, Ligon’s installation Notes on the Margin of the Black Book at the 1993 Whitney Biennial did much the same. It wasn’t only because Ligon’s installation met with attitudes that were hardly any less homophobic than those confronting Mapplethorpe’s book; he was treading on delicate territory, addressing as a black man white gay desire for the other skin color, and doing it without resentment. He let everyone have their say: Christian fundamentalists, intellectuals, art collectors, Mapplethorpe’s models. And his own boyfriend, who reports that even his closest acquaintances ask if he’s into "dark meat." The commentaries that Ligon brings together paint a portrait of American society while testifying to Ligon’s own personal search for identity. The way in which he resists even the simplest of categorizations is disturbing to the viewer; Ligon subjects us to the minefield of our own deadlocked prejudices and memories.
  db-artmag.com  
Doch warum leiht Ligon seinen Arbeiten nur fremde Stimmen und nicht die eigene? "Ich fand die Texte von anderen immer interessanter für meine Kunstwerke als alles was ich je hätte schreiben können," antwortet er.
In 1993, it wasn’t a text, but rather a photo book that served as a point of departure for Ligon’s investigations: Robert Mapplethorpe’s Black Book with erotic nudes of black men, among them the famous Man in a Polyester Suit (1980). Ligon cut 91 photos out of the book, framed them, and hung them in two horizontal rows on the wall. Between them, he placed another two rows with printed sheets of text—78 commentaries from prominent figures, witnesses of the time, and anonymous individuals on sexuality, race, AIDS, and the politically charged debates that the book unleashed between conservative and liberal camps. While Mapplethorpe’s book caused a scandal when it appeared in 1988, Ligon’s installation Notes on the Margin of the Black Book at the 1993 Whitney Biennial did much the same. It wasn’t only because Ligon’s installation met with attitudes that were hardly any less homophobic than those confronting Mapplethorpe’s book; he was treading on delicate territory, addressing as a black man white gay desire for the other skin color, and doing it without resentment. He let everyone have their say: Christian fundamentalists, intellectuals, art collectors, Mapplethorpe’s models. And his own boyfriend, who reports that even his closest acquaintances ask if he’s into "dark meat." The commentaries that Ligon brings together paint a portrait of American society while testifying to Ligon’s own personal search for identity. The way in which he resists even the simplest of categorizations is disturbing to the viewer; Ligon subjects us to the minefield of our own deadlocked prejudices and memories.
  www.clinicaviarnetto.ch  
Indem man zeigt, daß selbst, wenn die Fakten stimmen, die Arithmetik fehlerfrei und die numerische Ordnung richtig ist, daraus nicht zwangsläufig folgt, daß niemand dies ohne göttliche Inspiration hätte schreiben können.
By showing that even if the facts be true, the arithmetic faultless, and the collocation of the numerics honest, it does not follow that mere men could not have written this without Inspiration from above.
  db-artmag.de  
Doch warum leiht Ligon seinen Arbeiten nur fremde Stimmen und nicht die eigene? "Ich fand die Texte von anderen immer interessanter für meine Kunstwerke als alles was ich je hätte schreiben können," antwortet er.
In 1993, it wasn’t a text, but rather a photo book that served as a point of departure for Ligon’s investigations: Robert Mapplethorpe’s Black Book with erotic nudes of black men, among them the famous Man in a Polyester Suit (1980). Ligon cut 91 photos out of the book, framed them, and hung them in two horizontal rows on the wall. Between them, he placed another two rows with printed sheets of text—78 commentaries from prominent figures, witnesses of the time, and anonymous individuals on sexuality, race, AIDS, and the politically charged debates that the book unleashed between conservative and liberal camps. While Mapplethorpe’s book caused a scandal when it appeared in 1988, Ligon’s installation Notes on the Margin of the Black Book at the 1993 Whitney Biennial did much the same. It wasn’t only because Ligon’s installation met with attitudes that were hardly any less homophobic than those confronting Mapplethorpe’s book; he was treading on delicate territory, addressing as a black man white gay desire for the other skin color, and doing it without resentment. He let everyone have their say: Christian fundamentalists, intellectuals, art collectors, Mapplethorpe’s models. And his own boyfriend, who reports that even his closest acquaintances ask if he’s into "dark meat." The commentaries that Ligon brings together paint a portrait of American society while testifying to Ligon’s own personal search for identity. The way in which he resists even the simplest of categorizations is disturbing to the viewer; Ligon subjects us to the minefield of our own deadlocked prejudices and memories.