A small room above a bay window. A single bed, a table and chair, and a sink. I could manage something larger, with more conveniences, but I could never match the view.
At the head of the bed, a stack of books, on top of which sits an orange peel curled around a crumpled tissue, and below that, a pencil, its tip broken.
Somewhere there is a piece of lead gathering dust. What would a spider make of it? Would it investigate, or would it be repelled by its properties? Maybe neither. Maybe there are no spiders in this room.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
A busy night last night with a talk by art historian John C. Welchman on Paul McCarthy at the Church of Jane and Ross (sponsored by Fillip Magazine and the CAG), and later, at Main and 15th, a massive Talon book launch, this one featuring eight authors, all men.
Welchman’s talk was a standard academic lecture, beginning first with a detailed description of the Los Angeles-based McCarthy's Caribbean Pirates (2001-2005), some historical scholarship on 17th century sea piracy (a reaction, Welchman argues, to a state structure increasingly concerned with the protection and promotion of private property), before concluding with McCarthy’s numerous purpose-oriented studios.
The art historian was quick to draw a parallel between McCarthy’s project and Hollywood’s first post-9/11 billion dollar franchise, Pirates of the Caribbean (2003-2011), and he could have extended that parallel to McCarthy’s numerous artist studios in relation to Hollywood’s own. Indeed, just as the adult film industry provides a burlesque of mainstream Hollywood, so too does the work of McCarthy.
My favorite part of the Talon launch, besides catching up with writers Ken Belford and Renee Rodin, was Karl Siegler’s introduction. Listening to Siegler, one might have thought he was working from a script – only in this instance he began by addressing a comment made within minutes of taking the stage, when Judith Copithorne asked, “Why are there no women on your spring list? What sprung from Siegler was a response so careful, so methodical, one might have thought he had been asked to speak on the topic last year. I won’t go into everything Siegler said, but his short answer was this: not a single woman submitted.
The best part of Siegler’s intro was his recognition of our current literary moment as one of constraint (contrast that with the work of McCarthy, where excess is everything). Though he did not provide examples, I am sure many in the room thought of Christian Bok’s Eunonia -- but to many more outside, Twitter’s 140 word maximum. Siegler went on to say that he has taken "great delight" in writing book synopses of exactly 300 words for his Canadian catalogues and exactly 90 words for his U.S. versions. “If I cannot say all I need to say about a manuscript in 300 words, it will not be published by Talon.” At least not in Canada.
Welchman’s talk was a standard academic lecture, beginning first with a detailed description of the Los Angeles-based McCarthy's Caribbean Pirates (2001-2005), some historical scholarship on 17th century sea piracy (a reaction, Welchman argues, to a state structure increasingly concerned with the protection and promotion of private property), before concluding with McCarthy’s numerous purpose-oriented studios.
The art historian was quick to draw a parallel between McCarthy’s project and Hollywood’s first post-9/11 billion dollar franchise, Pirates of the Caribbean (2003-2011), and he could have extended that parallel to McCarthy’s numerous artist studios in relation to Hollywood’s own. Indeed, just as the adult film industry provides a burlesque of mainstream Hollywood, so too does the work of McCarthy.
My favorite part of the Talon launch, besides catching up with writers Ken Belford and Renee Rodin, was Karl Siegler’s introduction. Listening to Siegler, one might have thought he was working from a script – only in this instance he began by addressing a comment made within minutes of taking the stage, when Judith Copithorne asked, “Why are there no women on your spring list? What sprung from Siegler was a response so careful, so methodical, one might have thought he had been asked to speak on the topic last year. I won’t go into everything Siegler said, but his short answer was this: not a single woman submitted.
The best part of Siegler’s intro was his recognition of our current literary moment as one of constraint (contrast that with the work of McCarthy, where excess is everything). Though he did not provide examples, I am sure many in the room thought of Christian Bok’s Eunonia -- but to many more outside, Twitter’s 140 word maximum. Siegler went on to say that he has taken "great delight" in writing book synopses of exactly 300 words for his Canadian catalogues and exactly 90 words for his U.S. versions. “If I cannot say all I need to say about a manuscript in 300 words, it will not be published by Talon.” At least not in Canada.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Last night I was among the thirty who attended a reading by Sina Queryas at Emily Carr University. I was hoping to say hi, but left before the end.
I sent her this instead:
Sina!
I would have stayed if not for the panel erected after your reading. What was that all about? And what of the Acconcian gesture, the guy to your immediate right? What a ghostly presence. Acconcian as in Vito.
I had some questions, one of which concerned a poem you dedicated to Christian Bok that, once heard, reminded me of what Dorothy Livesay talked about when she wrote (favorably) of the "documentary poem" tradition. That you dedicated a poem like that to someone whose weaknesses include an aesthetic (as opposed to political) intolerance of anything un-meta-cated had me curious. Provocations like that are best served when the person is in the room. Also, what was Marjorie Perloff protesting when you said she took issue with the poem?
There were other questions amidst the proper-nounage tally. Looking at my notebook, I wrote:
Virginia Woolf (1)
Margaret Atwood (1)
Michael Ondaatje (1)
Christopher Dewdney (1)
Christian Bok (4)
Marjorie Perloff (1)
Kenneth Goldsmith (1)
Dorothy Wordsworth (1)
Here's a nice line:
"There are hooks in the air that catch and carry us."
Could you break it for me so that I might post it on my blog?
I caught the metaphoric intake of the expressway. Wish in your book you restrained from explaining it.
I have a copy of Expressway on order. I am looking forward to reading it in relation to Oana Avasilichioaei's feria: a poempark (2008) and, after all these years, my own book, Kingsway (1995).
Two weeks ago Jamie Hider and I gave a presentation at Artspeak entitled Talking Conceptual Writing, in which we attempted a critical survey of the current conversation as well as a periodization of conceptual art practices of the late-1960s/early-1970s. My thesis is that a move towards an "expanded" contemporary writing must see itself in conversation with the conceptual art moment, as opposed to shopping at its stores.
When I talk about what I do, I talk about the writings of Douglas Huebler and Dan Graham as literary influences -- that what I do, and have done, is closer to the interdisciplinarity of what locals Malcolm Lowry (his 1954 "Through the Panama" is our city's first instance of collagist fiction), Al Neil (our first bricoleur), bill bissett, Roy Kiyooka, Maxine Gadd, Judith Copithorne and Gerry Gilbert were doing, something I made a show of at SFU Gallery in January (Expanded Literary Practices).
A key omission in Craig Dworkin's "Introduction" (on his ubuweb site) is Dan Graham, who famously defined "conceptual art" as "Vietnam" in an effort to critique the apolitical nature of Minimalism and its adherence to Friedian notions of purity. Graham reminds us that in our pursuit of "team jackets" (Jeff Derksen) we cannot forget that conceptual art is less a genre than a critique.
So that is my argument against Conceptual Writing -- where is the critique? Furthermore, if Conceptual Writing wants to further itself, become a jacketted movement, it must drop the Writing part and work within the larger critical (post-medium) history. For it is the persistence of the Writing part that has Conceptual Writing wanting it both ways -- on the one hand, to “make it new”, while on the other, retreating to mom and dad's (aka The Literary) when the going gets tough (aka The Critique). Finally, any movement that has as its creation myth Christian Bok and Darren Wershler-Henry driving to Buffalo to talk to Kenny Goldsmith is suspect in my books.
I wish we could have spoken about this at your talk, and not had to endure that panel.
Michael
I sent her this instead:
Sina!
I would have stayed if not for the panel erected after your reading. What was that all about? And what of the Acconcian gesture, the guy to your immediate right? What a ghostly presence. Acconcian as in Vito.
I had some questions, one of which concerned a poem you dedicated to Christian Bok that, once heard, reminded me of what Dorothy Livesay talked about when she wrote (favorably) of the "documentary poem" tradition. That you dedicated a poem like that to someone whose weaknesses include an aesthetic (as opposed to political) intolerance of anything un-meta-cated had me curious. Provocations like that are best served when the person is in the room. Also, what was Marjorie Perloff protesting when you said she took issue with the poem?
There were other questions amidst the proper-nounage tally. Looking at my notebook, I wrote:
Virginia Woolf (1)
Margaret Atwood (1)
Michael Ondaatje (1)
Christopher Dewdney (1)
Christian Bok (4)
Marjorie Perloff (1)
Kenneth Goldsmith (1)
Dorothy Wordsworth (1)
Here's a nice line:
"There are hooks in the air that catch and carry us."
Could you break it for me so that I might post it on my blog?
I caught the metaphoric intake of the expressway. Wish in your book you restrained from explaining it.
I have a copy of Expressway on order. I am looking forward to reading it in relation to Oana Avasilichioaei's feria: a poempark (2008) and, after all these years, my own book, Kingsway (1995).
Two weeks ago Jamie Hider and I gave a presentation at Artspeak entitled Talking Conceptual Writing, in which we attempted a critical survey of the current conversation as well as a periodization of conceptual art practices of the late-1960s/early-1970s. My thesis is that a move towards an "expanded" contemporary writing must see itself in conversation with the conceptual art moment, as opposed to shopping at its stores.
When I talk about what I do, I talk about the writings of Douglas Huebler and Dan Graham as literary influences -- that what I do, and have done, is closer to the interdisciplinarity of what locals Malcolm Lowry (his 1954 "Through the Panama" is our city's first instance of collagist fiction), Al Neil (our first bricoleur), bill bissett, Roy Kiyooka, Maxine Gadd, Judith Copithorne and Gerry Gilbert were doing, something I made a show of at SFU Gallery in January (Expanded Literary Practices).
A key omission in Craig Dworkin's "Introduction" (on his ubuweb site) is Dan Graham, who famously defined "conceptual art" as "Vietnam" in an effort to critique the apolitical nature of Minimalism and its adherence to Friedian notions of purity. Graham reminds us that in our pursuit of "team jackets" (Jeff Derksen) we cannot forget that conceptual art is less a genre than a critique.
So that is my argument against Conceptual Writing -- where is the critique? Furthermore, if Conceptual Writing wants to further itself, become a jacketted movement, it must drop the Writing part and work within the larger critical (post-medium) history. For it is the persistence of the Writing part that has Conceptual Writing wanting it both ways -- on the one hand, to “make it new”, while on the other, retreating to mom and dad's (aka The Literary) when the going gets tough (aka The Critique). Finally, any movement that has as its creation myth Christian Bok and Darren Wershler-Henry driving to Buffalo to talk to Kenny Goldsmith is suspect in my books.
I wish we could have spoken about this at your talk, and not had to endure that panel.
Michael
In eleven hours the cash-poor Vancouver Art Gallery will pitch the Vancouver Board of Trade on a new building at the site of the former bus depot on West Georgia Street. Topic heading: “A Vancouver Masterpiece.”
As much as I would like the gallery to reorganize, create a better situation for the display and dissemination of art and art production, my hope is that they do so as part of a larger conversation -- where the desire for a new gallery is based not on the egotistical posturing of its Chairs and Director but on a civic understanding of what a gallery is and how it might serve the city and its guests. Only when people feel part of something do projects like the VAG’s come to pass.
Will the Board of Trade be open to the VAG’s pitch? A few years ago the owner of the local soccer club put up the cash to build a new stadium at the west end of Gastown. All that was needed was City approval, and the City said no -- the owner wanted to include market housing. In the VAG’s case, they want the opposite -- a stand-alone building. But the City wants a shared site.
Is there a compromise? Yes. The new VAG will have corporate skyboxes.
As much as I would like the gallery to reorganize, create a better situation for the display and dissemination of art and art production, my hope is that they do so as part of a larger conversation -- where the desire for a new gallery is based not on the egotistical posturing of its Chairs and Director but on a civic understanding of what a gallery is and how it might serve the city and its guests. Only when people feel part of something do projects like the VAG’s come to pass.
Will the Board of Trade be open to the VAG’s pitch? A few years ago the owner of the local soccer club put up the cash to build a new stadium at the west end of Gastown. All that was needed was City approval, and the City said no -- the owner wanted to include market housing. In the VAG’s case, they want the opposite -- a stand-alone building. But the City wants a shared site.
Is there a compromise? Yes. The new VAG will have corporate skyboxes.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
I busied myself for as long as possible yesterday. Until the rains came. Then I changed out of my work clothes and set off for Mandeville Gardens, where I purchased a scented daphne and an azalea that did the same.
On the way home I stopped at Metrotown, to look at hats.
As usual I got lost, and in trying to find my way out found myself in an HMV. There, in the new releases section, Jonathan Miller’s 1966 BBC production of Alice In Wonderland, a film that has haunted me since childhood, one I was sure I would never see again.
I cannot begin to describe what it was like watching a film that had such a profound effect on me. As soon as Anne-Marie Mallik’s face came on screen, I was transported back to my babushka’s Los Angeles apartment, sitting on her huge silk pillows, her equally huge television glowing before me.
“Who are you? Come on, don’t just stand there -- who are you?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know just at the moment. I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I have changed several times since then.”
And so it went.
Unlike a lot of films these days, especially those with psychedelically available content, Miller’s Alice is more costumes than sets, more acting than CGI. As for Mallik’s performance, she is Bartleby. When she says she does not know who she is, you believe her, and that allows for so much more.
On the way home I stopped at Metrotown, to look at hats.
As usual I got lost, and in trying to find my way out found myself in an HMV. There, in the new releases section, Jonathan Miller’s 1966 BBC production of Alice In Wonderland, a film that has haunted me since childhood, one I was sure I would never see again.
I cannot begin to describe what it was like watching a film that had such a profound effect on me. As soon as Anne-Marie Mallik’s face came on screen, I was transported back to my babushka’s Los Angeles apartment, sitting on her huge silk pillows, her equally huge television glowing before me.
“Who are you? Come on, don’t just stand there -- who are you?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know just at the moment. I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I have changed several times since then.”
And so it went.
Unlike a lot of films these days, especially those with psychedelically available content, Miller’s Alice is more costumes than sets, more acting than CGI. As for Mallik’s performance, she is Bartleby. When she says she does not know who she is, you believe her, and that allows for so much more.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
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