February 23, 2010

Havard Volden & Toshimaru Nakamura


SCS 10 :: Havard Volden & Toshimaru Nakamura.
Wednesday 24th February 8.00pm
Islington Mill, James Street, Salford, M3 5HW
Entry: £5 on the door


Håvard Volden : a player of the 'Table Top Guitar', an instrument with a long history, this guy is one of the new generation along with the likes of Thomas Korber that has been handed the Baton by Jim O'Rourke ( in his youth ) who in turn was handed it by Mr Keith Rowe ( who's history is as long & radical as his personal music taste is as bewilderingly Reactionary! ). Strangely he doesn't sound anything like his family tree, with him this ...cough.. 'Traditional' set up of Guitar layed flat with springs, contact mics etc attached comes out sounding more like Hans Reichels Daxophone recordings!
He's Norwegian.

Toshimaru Nakamura : a player of 'No-Input Mixing Desk' , again this 'instrument' has a history, going back thru David Tudor, David Berman, David Myers, lotta Davids there strangely so lets add an Eliane Radigue in ( early stuff before the modular synth got her ), but Nakamura has made this type of music making by riding the treacherous waves of feedback his own. A visitor to Manchester once or twice in the past decade, his previously minimalist style of sharp amplead pulling pops, electric line impedence hum & subtlely EQed feedback have given way in recent years to a more aggressive angular approach. It will be a pleasure to hear this development within his duo with Havard.
He's Japanese.

PLUS: in a slight avant-face on our usual "Promote! NOT Self-Promote!" mantra there will also be a couple of short sets with duo or trio combinations of Havard & Toshi with some of the SCS personel ie: Ben Gwilliam, Lee Patterson & Matt Wand.. They're English.

February 20, 2010

The badge machine is broken

I have been looking forward to the reopening of the remodelled and extended National People’s History Museum http://www.phm.org.uk/ as I held the old version in very high esteem. So high in fact that I used to have to steel myself for a visit because some of the histories, displays, documents, the moments of social revelation were so powerful that I would be moved to tears. This was the only museum that had such a profound effect on me – although appalling, even the Hiroshima Atomic Museum didn’t touch me so deeply.

Living in Manchester you have to have low architectural expectations – an ‘international’ city with no (contemporary) international architecture. Walking passed the museum every day, I have parenthesised my view of Austin-Smith: Lord design (http://www.austinsmithlord.com/ ) as competent mediocrity (although having seen the interior the ‘competent’ may be generous – picture: the foyer, notice the big column right in front of the information desk). But this isn’t an architecture review; so, hopeful for the survival of something special, for my first hopeful visit I committed not to let any architectural flaws detract from the central experience.

The warmth and earnestness of the staff as we entered lifted the spirits with a sense of a collective endeavour committed to the seriousness of the mission to privilege and treasure the memory of working class struggle. And then to the museum proper… and my heart sank.

The first thing we looked at was the temporary photography exhibition “Carried Away” – “taking a sideways look at protest through the last 100 years, illustrated by images of individuals being forcibly removed from the protests by the authorities.” (As it was an exhibition of images illustrating forcibly removal from protests, I am not sure what was ‘sideways’ about it). Many of the images from anti-fascist riots in the 30’s through the Miner’s Strike, anti-apartheid, anti-nuclear, etc, were powerful, and I really wanted them to accumulate into the emotive effect I craved, a celebration of resistance and courage, but the neat arrangement of images circled something crass in the centre of the space: a (new) tent on a photo vinyl of grass on the floor and a (new) rainbow flag hanging. It was a clumsy reference to the peace camps but what pushed it over the edge was a table beside it with colouring pencils and a badge making machine. In another part of the room I looked at the comments book – the comment which caught my eye was from a child: “very very nice but the badge machine is broken”. Obviously a child’s critical vocabulary is unrefined, and I dont actually care that the machine was broken - that's what happens - but this seemed to be a double indictment of the display rather than the play equipment: fundamentally, those images shouldn’t be very very nice but they had become strangely photographically interesting rather than politically engaging; and the broken badge match is symbolic of an aesthetic problem at the heart of the conception of the museum.
There now seems to be a museological conceit that the history of workers’ struggle is manifest as primarily a graphic style, that trade unions’ and protest campaigns’ are characterized by their use of sloganising badges rather than ideas.



The frequent repetition of the museum’s new circular logo itself announces the importance of the badge as the focal point of the history.



The case is repeated in the colour coding of the displays (see sign)













And pulling out from this colour text we see a juxtaposition which again reinforces this idea.









Moving to the two floors of galleries, paradoxically, despite the colour coding, displays, items and ideas are jumbled and confusingly juxtaposed; really appalling moments of people’s struggle are thrown away; the uplifting cultures of hope are dissipated, collective aspirations for beauty and justice are marginal. At this point, I confess that there was an elephant in the museum which was completely invisible to me. Or should I say monster in the museum. It took Sue to point it out: this is a children’s museum! I think I have conditioned myself not to see the dismal signs but with her observation the sad reality confronts you.

Everywhere there are colouring-in activities, dressing up opportunities, lift the flap to find out, act out with puppets displays. If only I had remained blind to it. Faced with this I would just dismiss a museum as no interest, but as Sue used to be teacher, she made professional comments – though actually equally critical: her view is that given modern children’s greater sophistication and at the same time shorter attention span, this model of display and activity is outmoded for engaging children over 6. A good example of the problem is the pictured puppet activity. Puppets of British political leaders from the 70s and 80s.
The label invites children, for that is height at which the “TV” is located, to conduct interviews. As Sue observed, what educational value does that have? The children have no knowledge of who the puppets represent or any of the political stances/philosophies which those figures stood for.

Because UK museums are measured by the number of visitors, as currently configured the museum will be a success in those terms; it will be loved by families with toddlers (2-6 year olds can pick up a Busy Bee explorer backpack) and schools – the latter because it is almost a school worksheet on the wall. It offers all the labour-saving preparation work that teachers relish. But Sue summed up the problem thus: The history of people’s struggle has been reduced to the form of Spot the Dog.


I think(hope) the museum as a whole is a more complex picture; the value of its work is immeasurable; it has very significant labour history archives, serious relationships with academic institutions and international working history museums which are commensurate to the seriousness of the history it retains. However, curatorially, it has been infected by the national cultural policy which homogenises and dumbs everything down. Given that this museum should be the inspirational repository of a class memory, a memorial to the ordinary made heroic, and a rallying idea that progressive change has and can be achieved, the prioritisation of toddlerism directly contradicts, neuters and marginalises the idea and experience that “there are ideas worth fighting for”. For me, the most powerful museum has been brought low. For the next few weeks the museum is in a ‘soft opening’ period, but sadly has conceptually located its public access at the level of Kids in Museums and as such it now seems distant from the idea of positive social and political change in favour of the central edict of public funding: the importance of civic and capital management of public thought. I felt a little sad for the staff whom I respect greatly, who in my experience are committed to the idea, optimism and knowledge of workers’ history but the policy landscape in which the museum operates, distorts its past in the deadening political shift that has redefined community (of idea, geography or workplace) as family, family as Engels observed the organisational unit of capitalism, and family as a mediated child-obsessed hierarchy in which complexity or collective action by definition are unnecessary and undesirable.

– Clock yourself in

February 13, 2010

Wallflower poetics and ‘the orthodoxy of subversion’

Back in December, I wrote a letter contributing to the online correspondence between choreographer Jonathan Burrows and Live Art theorist Adrian Heathfield (http://tony-trehy.blogspot.com/2009/12/gauging-freedom-and-constraint.html ). It’s been a while since the two put anything online to continue their conversation. In his new letter, http://www.thisisperformancematters.co.uk/news.1.12.html Jonathan tells us that they have been continuing development of their thinking by phone, which seems like a breach of the convention of starting a public conversation in the first place, and implicitly it does now feel like a dialogue that we have missed part of. Anyway, though I understand my contribution was pointed out to Adrian at least, I wasn’t expecting a response or acknowledge; I did hope that proof of an audience would up the quality of argument. Maybe a nod to this in Burrows letter is his references.

So, to the content of the argument: I find it bizarre that their thinking continues to be located in the arguments of Michael Donaghy. If they were poets I would now be discounting this conversation as banal drone from the UK mainstream - it wouldn’t even have crossed my radar. I find myself almost thinking that this must be a different Adrian Heathfield than the one who wrote Out of Now: The Lifeworks of Tehching Hsieh
In Wallflowers, Donaghy makes much shadow of a dance, a metaphorical formula for the social transaction between the artist and audience in an oral tradition; I don’t understand how this isn’t just ridiculed when someone like Tehching Hsieh (for instance, whom Adrian must know well) posits considerable linguistic rigour as the continuity of a temporal act in space.

With Jonathan now also introducing ‘theory’ from folk(!) musician John Kirkpatrick, I almost want to warn the dance/performing arts worlds that there is a dangerous retrogressive agenda to drive these forms into the same tame deadend into which UK ‘public’ poetry now languishes.

Because of the gaps in the correspondence due to the shadow of phone conversations, with irritation I felt compelled to buy Donaghy’s “The Shape of the Dance” (which includes the Wallflowers essay). Imagine the level of irritation when I actually then read it. I shouldnt really have to put up with this nonsense, life is too short to waste on it, but the marker needs to be put down in the Burrows/Heathfield dialogue and then I will move on to more serious things.

In responding to the meandering Donaghy style, it is the most efficient use of time perhaps to focus on the Wallflowers “In Lieu of a Conclusion”. In this he acknowledges the literary battlefield that poetry became at the end of the 20th Century but of course located where he is, this is framed as an ‘attack’ on “traditional terms of engagement with the audience, modernist poets and critics…cut poetry’s lifeline to the oral tradition.” He does however recognise that this “developed immeasurably our capacity to think speculatively and innovatively about the genre.” But instead of seeing what we can now do since 'our capacity to think' has been expanded, he turns back from immeasurable possibility to ask the final question of the essay: How do we re-engage with poems? (I’ll come back to the wrong-headedness of the question in a minute).

Donaghy’s answer is “Memorize. When we learn a dance step, a part in a play, a song, or a poem by heart, we give it a body to live in.” Memorize?! The answer to re-engagement with poems is to memorise? There are two objections to this outrageously simple-minded harking-back-to-the-romantic-pre-industrial-bucolic-idyl-nonsense. As Donaghy himself identified earlier in the essay “In non-literate cultures, of course, the only way to preserve knowledge is to make it memorizable”. We don’t live in a non-literate culture. In the 21st century who the hell has or wants this form of oral relationship with poetry? We live in a literate, but predominantly visual-technological culture. Donaghy posits a central relationship of the artist to the audience; how is his (non-literate) audience served by perpetuation of a fantasy that poetry is an oral form (as opposed to a linguistic form)? No-one would deny poetry’s origin but this laughable position is the equivalent of arguing that drama should return to institutionalised competitions celebrating the god Dionysus; and if antecedence is validation you could argue that live art itself is historically illegitimate; and sound art isn’t proper music so that should be crossed off too; and multimedia art is ...(etc) (etc).

How do we re-engage with poems? Asks Donaghy. He also anticipates one of the questions that this raises: why is this desirable? Both questions are actually rooted in the mainstream’s location of the problems of poetry in marketing and audience. Who are the 'we' he refers too? What poems? ‘Re-engage’ suggests readers who used to read poems but don’t now, or maybe, read poems but somehow fail to ‘inscribe on their hearts’. The tenor of the passage is that it is modernism’s fault that readers are disengaged because the “lifeline to the oral tradition” was cut. This is the argument against conceptual art from the Stuckists.

The second objection to privileging memory as the functional repository of a poem is the fossilisation of the artform. This is a sad reflection on poetry itself – what other artform would think like this? No-one goes to a Lawrence Weiner exhibition with the intention of memorising his texts. Does Jonathan Burrows expect the audience to memorise the choreography of one of his dance works? And if the voice is going to be only measure of poetic quality, how are we expected to memorise poems by Christian Bök or Caroline Bergvall? Fundamentally most other artforms, and contemporary poetry that “developed immeasurably our capacity to think speculatively and innovatively about the genre” are driven by an artistic imperative (analogous to scientific method) toward discovery and ideas, hypothesis and experiment. Which brings me to the question of the discussion of what Jonathan calls the orthodoxy of subversion – “how to negotiate the relationship between old and new, especially in a time when the marketplace pushes us always into buying the new and even the old is repackaged and sold back to us.” Interesting to note that the greatest public ‘exposure’ to poetry nowadays is through the use of its forms in TV/radio advertising. Jonathan quotes 'Wallflowers':

"A player in such a tradition is expected to improvise, to 'make it new', and the possibilities of expression within the prescribed forms are infinite. But it's considered absurd to violate the conventions of the form, the 'shape' of the dance tune or story, because you leave the community of your audience behind.” (Mmm… 'making it new' – it makes me smile when one of the Hegemony of the Banal make the Poundian claim because it indicates the incapability of their desire and their absence of self-knowledge.) In another section of the book Donaghy comments that “the reader is willing to go halfway to accommodate you – but no more”. I have often quoted from William Carlos Williams’ autobiography where he uses the metaphor of the artist as bridge builder: the artist is faced with a gorge, the bridging artwork is the method of crossing; the artist makes and uses the bridge to cross. The bridge is useful. (Lawrence Weiner: “Art must be useful”); the viewer/reader/audience can also use the bridge. It is of no interest to the artist if critics don’t like the shape of the arch, or if someone doesn’t want to cross. The artist has moved onto the next valley. In my writing, if the reader is only willing to go halfway, then they won’t get all the way across, they won’t get to see what I discover on the other side, and if they don’t, why should I care? I crossed because I had to. If the reader doesn’t cross, they don’t have to. This isn’t a declaration of transgression – the desire for that would be to privilege the effect on the audience over the imperative to know. If the artwork is transgressive, it was the requirement of the creative imperative; if it is not transgressive, it was the requirement of the creative imperative.

Coincidentally, I was recently in a workshop where the 6 object exercise was used, and gratifyingly in this context I didn’t have any urge to take the objects out of the room. I agree that there is a misconception that the creative act must involve transgression, it can, but the over-egging of it, as Jonathan and Adrian agree, has had negative effects which are tied into commodification of the impulse, the prioritisation of the ‘emerging artist’ and the subsequent interchangeability of artists as fashion accessories. It is this very context which demands that the artist address their own artistic problems; to let the audience or the salesman or the educationalist define the problems is to compromise the possibility of discovery. Donaghy’s Irish country dance, in reality or as analogy for poetry, is a community entertainment, it is a fun night out; no-one begrudges the audience having a good time, but it is frankly silly to elevate it or its shadow in memory as a serious artistic discovery.

February 10, 2010

The Non-existence of the Unnamed

A solo exhibition by Brass Art
Preview: Friday 12 th February 2010 6pm -8pm
Exhibition Dates: 13th February- 20th March 2010
Exhibition opening times: Wednesday - Saturday 12pm - 5pm


The Myth of Origins, The Unnamed no.1, (2009), watercolour on paper, 50.8cmx40.6cm

Brass Art is the collective name for artists, Chara Lewis, Kristin Mojsiewicz and Anneké Pettican. For their second solo show at The International 3, Brass Art continue to develop the expansive series of watercolour drawings collectively titled, The Myth of Origins, in which the shadow forms of the artists encounter the manifestation of their collective psyche.

In the new series of drawings for The Non-existence of the Unnamed, the artists unlock the Entomology collection at The Manchester Museum. The suggested encounters portrayed between the re-animated specimens and living flesh are at once terrifying and intimate. Transformed into a series of theatrical masquerades, the drawings reveal the tension between the idea of the act and the act itself.

Made as collaborative drawings, the artists are collectively engaged in their production; in process and product articulating the intimacy of Brass Art's long-standing working relationship.

Brass Art have recently exhibited in 'Not at this address' at Bury Museum and Art Gallery and at Yorkshire Sculpture Park. They are currently exhibiting newly commissioned work as part of 'Tell it to the Trees' at Croft Castle and Museum and their upcoming exhibitions include, 'The Economy of the Gift' at A Foundation, Liverpool in April 2010, 'Shadow Play' at Whitworth Art Gallery, Manchester in May 2010 and the Tatton Park Biennial in 2012.

February 06, 2010

Reykjavik

Marton's response to Reykjavik makes me think that unless you were in Iceland in 2007 you probably haven't seen the poem's own visual manifestation in the Safn Museum. So here is what it looked like:




(Dan Flavin and Roni Horn in the background)





February 05, 2010

Márton Koppány responses to Reykjavik



Marton writes: "Since my English hasn't improved a bit since we met, here I send you an asemic comment on your Reykjavík (on its distances and boundaries)"

February 02, 2010

Budapest

Arrived in Budapest to what the UK would call a blizzard. The snow was thicker than it was a few weeks back in England and it seemed to have no effect on daily life. Everywhere I went, even outer areas of the city, had cleared pavements and roads. Unlike Manchester city centre's incapable response to snow, no-one was slipping over; it was business as usual.

(View from my hotel)

Being here had the desired effect on writing Tesseract – what could be more conducive than being cut off from the world supplied at regular intervals with caffe lattes and overlooking ice flowing down the Danube?

On Monday evening I had the great pleasure of dinner at Márton Koppány's apartment. About 25 mins from the hotel, though the taxi ripped me off charging double what it cost for the trip back.

Márton's 'poetry dog' (every poet should have one!) Gertrude S. was a big black soft haired sweety who barked whenever she wanted something, which most often was to be played with or stroked. Luckily I had brought her a ball and missing our poetry dog was happy to stroke. Márton's wife Gyöngyi teaches English and asked me a couple of questions about grammar which I answered inconsistently, because, as I said, the English don’t really learn or understand grammar – part of our imperial laziness - so even things that are grammatically incorrect sound feasible to our ears. I called it our ‘flexibility’. Márton and I talked about vispo and whether the new taste for asemic writing amounted to anything, conceptual art, the Text Festival (which he will be in), his choice of English over Hungarian and the phenomenon of global networking. Gyöngyi made dinner; we drank two bottles of wine. The food was a chicken and cauliflower bake with rice followed by cake. I gave Márton a copy of Reykjavik and he gave me a couple of his books (Investigations and Endgames) which look very nice indeed.






Yesterday, I had lunch with Allan Siegel, a media artist, writer and teacher at Budapest Art University.
http://www.kekbicikli.hu/ We discussed the 5 Places project in his favourite bistro.







After that, I connected up again with Márton to see the Műcsarnok Kunsthalle retrospective of the Balázs Béla Studio.
http://www.ernstmuzeum.hu/new_site/index.php?lang=en

It didn't really work for me as I had no knowledge of 50's-60's Hungarian avant-garde film-making and it was curated as a cross between an art show and a museological survey, the latter part not really working with Műcsarnok's spaces.

From there I went on to the Trafo Contemporary Art Centre, http://www.trafo.hu/ to see Subversive Excerpts, a show looking at the experimental and conceptual practices between the nineteen-sixties and eighties in Europe and South America under the influence of military dictatorships and communist regimes. Taken with the subtext of the BBS show and the conversations with Márton, it is clear that the recent history of repression in Hungary is still a raw element in artists' consciousness, but not having had that experience, I had to feel a distance from that reality.


January 30, 2010

Back to Budapest


Just off to Budapest to write. Having just finished a short poem for the forthcoming second issue of the Other Room Anthology, I am hoping to make some progress with the new book Tesseract. I always like to develop major sections of a text in non-English speaking cities. In 'exile', the foreign language space intensifies the phenomenological reliance on your own creative resources and strangely the transparence of language. No doubt this experience is different for people who speak more than one language, but I find it very conducive. Hopefully I'll also see some shows and I have meetings with various people about the next Text Festival and the 5 Places project that I am setting up with Irene Barberis in Melbourne. One of the people I am looking forward to seeing is visual poet Márton Koppány (one of his works pictured).

January 26, 2010

The Other Room

Wednesday, February 3rd 2010, 7.00
The Other Room with Rob Holloway, Holly Pester and Steve Waling
The Old Abbey Inn, Manchester,
Rob Holloway writes in Vauxhall and teaches in Dagenham. His first book PERMIT was published by the US -based poetry collective Subpress in 2009, and a new chapbook MORTMAIN is forthcoming from Stem. From Nov 2002 to March 2004 he hosted the poetry radio show "Up for Air" on Resonance FM (http://resonancefm.com/). In 2004 he launched the poetry CD label Stem (www.stemrecordings.com).

Holly Pester is an experimental sound poet and writer undergoing practice-led research at Birkbeck College in 'Speech and the Archive in Intermedia Poetry'. Her performances texts are experiments in the sound and shape of speech, blending pre-verbal noises with semantic surrealism in an affecting investigation into language transmission. Holly’s work is published on Onedit and in City Scapes, a new anthology of London poets (Penned in the Margins) and Zimzalla object 002. Holly Pester performed at the Serpentine Poetry Marathon in October and will take part in the Bury Text Festival 2011.

Steven Waling was born in Accrington, Lancashire in 1958, and has lived in Manchester since 1980. He won the Smith/Doorstop Pamphlet Competition with his first publication, Riding Shotgun, in 1988, and also that year was a prizewinner in the Lancaster Festival Poetry Competition. He has since published four books, including Calling Myself On The Phone (Smith/Doorstop)


January 24, 2010

A Manifesto for Monsters in Museums

I have previously expressed exasperation about the pronouncements of the bloody woman who runs the organisation “Kids in Museums” http://www.kidsinmuseums.org.uk/about/
She is at it again – this time an article in Arts Industry magazine www.artsindustry.co.uk – talking about the Kids in Museums Manifesto
Her main agenda obviously is to promote the manifesto, but in the article she does this by attacking the ‘arts sector’ over how bad it is at writing manifestos. Her article and her manifesto manifest to me someone who actually fundamentally dislikes the arts; there is always the subtext of her residual anger that she and her noisy brood were ‘thrown out’ of the Royal Academy.

Her article basically argues:
Galleries, museums and arts campaigns are bad at writing manifestos – they create documents that are either too long or, conversely, if short, too loose – “It’s no good having a manifesto with aims that boil down to nothing more than ‘enabling more people to have access to the arts’”. The Monsters in Museums woman tells ‘us’ that manifestos should be brief and clear. Amusingly, she says if your manifesto is one page long everyone will read it, if it is two pages long, hardly anyone even reads the first page. The Kids in Museums manifesto is two pages long.

Being a journalist and mother, it looks like she only had time to look up a quick dictionary definition for her article: “a public written declaration of the intentions or motives of a party”. As I have written before I have a real problem with this organisation and with its art-destroying agenda; in this article though, I find that I have a problem with their attack on manifestos too! Putting aside that the definition she uses misses reference to the manifesto’s requirement to call to action or that “all manifestos are best at denunciation” (Eric Hobsbawm); it also fails because “almost all manifestos in the past, which took the form of a group statement - assume the voice of some collective ‘we’” (Hans Ulrich Obrist). When you actually look at the KIM/MIM Manifesto you find that it doesn’t even fulfil the bloody woman’s own stated definition as it is not a declaration of the intentions of KIM/MIM, it is a list of patronising hectoring, and, sometimes plain stupid, demands of galleries and museums that have nothing to do with art.

On the face of it, the manifesto point that I have the biggest problem with would seem the most innocuous, Point 11: “Be height aware. Display objects, art and labels low enough for a child to see.” In hierarchical order of importance the people who should define the height of a work are the artist, then, if not specified as intrinsic to the work, the curator, and then no-one else. How old is the child who is supposed to see the work? One of the KIM/MIM suggestions (not in the manifesto) apparently is that museums should have pram-parking areas to make them more welcoming to mothers; does that mean that work should be displayed at eye-level of a toddler? As a 6-foot adult why do I have to sacrifice my back so that a toddler can see an artwork which it is unlikely to understand anyway? The government’s (equally stupid) performance indicators for Galleries measure success by the number of adult visitors. Can the forces of idiocy have it both ways?

She is right that the word ‘manifesto’ has been devalued, as much by sloppy use and by political parties which omit the originating impetus to revolution, but manifestos are written by practitioners not institutions; her attack is misconceived because the ‘arts sector’, the institutional examples she quotes, and the KIM/MIM manifesto are not actually manifestos.

Having a ‘manifesto’ that tells museums to have somewhere to sit down, tells me that the writer doesn’t actually go into many museums. It’s also odd that the 2nd point on the manifesto is that museums should have flexible family tickets. Though this may sound unusual to my foreign readers, in the UK virtually all museums are free to enter, certainly I can’t think of a museum in greater Manchester where you need a ticket. It hardly inspires interest in the manifesto shopping list if the 1st item is to be welcoming and the 2nd recommends something you don’t need.

For the first Text Festival (2005), I wrote a manifesto about the future of language art called simply “Text”. It was modelled on John Cage’s “Credo for the Future of Music”
http://transelectronic.net/v2/?p=302 . I wrote it as a poet not an art director. Text was 19 pages long; it was written with ideas, form and vocabulary beyond the reading age of children. It is of no interest if children can not read it. The opening shows were driven by curatorial rigour commensurate with the importance of the project – as Art Monthly reviewed at the time: “According to Foucault, the singularities that serve to rupture and renew normative discourse always emerge from the interstices – in other words, where nobody is looking. Almost certainly nobody was looking in the direction of Bury for the emergence of this significant project…” What’s a Foucault, Mummy?

Don’t get me wrong, the festival and other Bury Art Gallery programmes are supported by a full range of activities and projects aimed at children and young people but how is the cultural experience for them or for any other visitor enhanced by a gallery offering “big open spaces for children to let off steam” (point 15)? O, this relates to point 4 – don’t let galleries be places where people can experience displays without the noise of screaming running children. It is implied that the freedom to make noise in a gallery is related to galleries ‘being places for debate and new ideas’. That is exactly what they are – so how does children ‘letting off steam’ contribute to that? Of course there is the government fantasy that (point 10) ‘older and younger children … bring fresh ideas and insights’. This is plain nonsense. It has never been true and after 20 years of militarization (to paraphrase John Cage) of UK art and music education it is even further from possible. It can be argued that galleries and museums are the avenue through which young people can access and achieve their creative potential; this is true but only if galleries are allowed to be galleries that are places of ideas and not by dragging them down to the dumbness of the UK national curriculum and the chagrin of a mother with a chip on her shoulder.




January 19, 2010

Glow with the Flow

Friday 22nd January
FREE
GLOW WITH THE FLOW
RUTH TYSON JONES
Bispham High School , Bispham Road, Blackpool, FY2 ONH

FREE EVENT
FROM 7.30PM
Seven pods glowing in the dark each telling their own story of Blackpool through dance and light.
Each, a unique contained magical world. Choreographed by Ruth Tyson Jones (with thanks to Kat Irving for additional choreography).Music by Joshua Kopecek.

For more details please visit:
www.blackpool.gov.uk/arts

January 17, 2010

on a day unknown



It may not be immediately obvious how Jason E. Bowman’s new show “Untitled (on a day unknown)” at the Whitworth Art Gallery resonates with Damien Hirst’s “Nothing Matters” at the White Cube for me. On first viewing of the simple installation of court artist drawings, pinhole camera photos and quotation panels from the 1936 trial of 29 gay men in Chester, I found it lacked something. At the artist’s conversation yesterday, the discussion centred on the temporal re/dis/location of oppressive attitudes and violence against gay, lesbian and transgender identity. Jason had worked with a group of older LGBT people to reconstruct the trial – the choice of which was to span 3 generations of gay experience from pre-war oppression through 50s-60s legalisers to his present. It was in this discussion that I put my finger on what was missing – everything. I realised that the exhibition is fundamentally a structured absence. The archival process is a presence that represents a series of absences:

- the absence of a title
- the absence of time, the figures in the images are modern surrogates for the original defendants
- the absence of participants – Jason commented that the participants carry layers of secret knowledge developed through the project
- the absence of the artist himself, he doesn’t actually make any of the work on display
- the absence of technology – images displayed use rudimentary technologies (pin-hole, drawing)
- the absence of images from the time,
- the absence of the subsequent histories of the trial victims
- the absence of presence at the trial – court rules disallow drawing so the court artist has to make written notes and then draw from them from memory (I would love to have seen those notes)
- the absence of LGBT experience in mainstream consciousness
But (especially as a heterosexual) this absence is experienced a powerful analogy of knowing the unknowable. So what made me link this experience with the Hirst paintings? The experience of absence: in Bowman’s show absence is a central presence; Hirst blandly offers an absence too, an absence of insight or serious intent.

http://jasonebowman.com/

January 13, 2010

London - Nothing Matters

Just back from London: Very enjoyable lunches with Holly Pester (agreed her input into the next Text Festival) and Museum consultant Benedetta Tiana. Sadly Carol Watts had to cancel.

With Lois and CJ at the Live Arts Development Agency, I agreed a Language Moment DIY project in September this year and a Live Art Platform event in the 2011 Text Festival.

I only managed to see a couple of exhibitions – one of which was Nothing Matters – Damien Hirst’s painting show at the White Cube.
http://www.whitecube.com/exhibitions/nothing-matters/hs-ii/
The only interesting thing about the Hirst show is the question whether it reads as Nothing (actually does) matter or nothing at all matters – and that is not that interesting. What Hirst does generally tends to pass me by and I have a feeling that he didn’t actually paint the works, that assistants did them, much as his teams of technicians build the Pharmacy cabinets, etc. Whoever painted them was being taken much too seriously. The ground floor featured 3 large triptychs – each panel featured 3 elevations of a ‘flying’ crow being shot in mid ‘flight’, a explosion of red paint representing presumably a bullet hitting the birds. The birds have no painterly life and no sense of aerial dynamism so there is no emotive charge to their mid-air death. It reminded me of school level projects painting death – empty of any sense of what it actually could mean. Paradoxically although one of the nine blood red bursts is quite expressive, all are undermined by paint dribbles maybe meant to be blood falling from the wound moment but just looking like someone who didn’t know when to stop dribbling – the gravity is not falling from the bird but falling from the brush, drawing attention to the act of painting these given the limited ability further undermines. In the gallery upstairs there were six much smaller paintings of skulls. I have a soft spot for skull paintings, primarily because in the summer holidays before I went to University, back when people didn’t have a year out, I spent my summer in the local medical school studying anatomy – I spent days drawing and painting especially skulls; so I like to think I approach the paintings with a detailed understanding of the requirements of the object. I feel qualified then to say that Hirst (or his assistant) are crap at it and because they are so badly observed there is nowhere to hide in claims of emotive depth. In the hand-out, extracted from the catalogue essay, Rudi Fuchs compares the visual mood of the paintings to the austere dryness of Beckett. This is to load something onto these works that is fundamentally not there; the claim that they “direct us towards a clearer perception of the real” can not be substantiated by the evidence of my eyes at least; what they do give is a clearer perception of the difference between existential nausea, the viscous horror of nothingness, and, like bad acting, the shallow melodrama of someone barely pretending.

January 09, 2010

Ekphrastic Poem-Book of The Year

As I did a review of the year a couple of blogs ago, it turns out that I have made into someone else’s review. Namely, Steven Fama (in California, I think)

It’s a long blog review but some great observations in there. Gratifyingly, Space the Soldier Who Died for Perspective received Steve’s accolade for “Ekphrastic Poem-Book of The Year”. As Steve comments on my expansive and often obscure vocabulary, it amused me that I had to look up ‘ekphrastic’. It means, as you will all know, “a rhetorical device in which one medium of art tries to relate to another medium by defining and describing its essence and form, and in doing so, relate more directly to the audience, through its illuminative liveliness”. Readers of my work will of course recognise that commitment to illuminative liveliness(!) despite Steve’s observation that it is “almost utterly incomprehensible, in terms of positivist, or straight-line logical, meaning”. (no offense taken). Interestingly, my experiment in offering some explanation of the work (on my blog in November) didn’t have much effect, as Steve notes that it remains ‘wondrous’ obscure. I am impressed with readers like Steve who enjoy burrowing into the layers despite the difficulty – that act is analogous to my labours in building it. It is the same endeavour that a reader needs to fathom, say, Robert Grenier’s moment of realisation of the drawn poems. In the explanatory blog, I only dealt with the big themes of the ‘Space…’ poems without thinking about “Trehy’s particular Trehy ways with words”. This may seem contrary but when I am using particular words, stretch and pull, locating loaded vocabularies it obviously needs work to read it, but it all seems fairly transparent to me. Steve extracts a partial list of words, from the first 25 pages: (I’d mention that my vocabulary doesn’t change greatly between books. You can find most of the words in Reykjavik and 50 Heads too) and references “Mirror Canon Snips”. That title is a case in point, as it is a fairly straight epithet for the motion of the text – the investigation of the experience/act of moving in space being one of the threads of the poem: In music a mirror canon is “A canon or fugue in which two or more voices are inverted so that the intervals appear simultaneously upside down as well as right side up, looking on paper like a mirror image of each other.” This is juxtaposed with “Snips”. Snips is the way you pronounce the acronym SNP = Single nucleotide polymorphisms which is the most common type of genetic variation. So the title attempts to agglomerate the interweaving of musical lines with the twisting movement of DNA.

Medical terms I use are usually conditions from which I have suffered. Much as “alto rilievo”, which comes from classical architecture/carving meaning high relief was an attempt to describe how the ribs rise up in relief from the wasting flesh of a dying relative, many of the poems are attempts to get to the thickness of an actual experience through language as metaphor. An example from 50 Heads, which comes to mind just now, because of the UK weather, is Lassitude – which comes from an experience from a previous winter when I fell down some icy steps, momentarily losing consciousness in the snow:


Lassitude

0. Sleeps a moment fallen on snowy steps. Will resignation to decay happily (few can resist). Martyrdom can only be given not taken, invited through the rejection of pension arrangements, to tire of the age spent and starving – on the street can still be screaming at the storm – despite compulsory annuity solutions. Regardless, they never allow shock in production & consumption, nothing collapses. Proceeding by exhaustion, from this great mass of details decomposed into a small part containing action, relinquishing cognition, personality, rather than fearing disability to function, embracing our counter-finality. Reject. Peace doesn’t tell us about the fate of fluents not affected by aphasia we can have two different, but equivalent, fears; subversion only as revolt is co-opted if there are simply a finite number of models, these propositional genes are hence vocabulary dependent: bodies in motion or at rest are freed momentarily prior to treatment for concussion: something missing: 1


January 04, 2010

jean-luc guionnet


Friday 8th January 2010
7:30 pm
St. Philips Church, Encombe Place, Salford, M3 6FJ
Entry: £5 on the door

A first for the North West, this well known French Improvisor and electro-acoustician graces our shores by performing his careful pipe preparations on the historic Church organ of St Philips. Expect a post-christmas audio treat of maximalist sounds and mictrotonal tendencies
.

December 30, 2009

Gauging Freedom and Constraint




The Text Festival and the Language Moment have led me to engage more recently with Live Art practice. In January I will be talking to the Live Art Development Agency http://www.thisisliveart.co.uk/ about running some of their DIY artists’ training sessions with a language slant as a Text Festival partnership. So I approached with interest a creative dialogue that has started on the related http://www.thisisperformancematters.co.uk/news.1.10.html website between Live Art theorist Adrian Heathfield and choreographer Jonathan Burrows. This dialogue also attracts me because my Gauge Symmetries work with Helmut Lemke (sound) and Ruth Tyson-Jones (dance) is a live project with issues still to be resolved. So adopting the same conceit of correspondence, I write to Adrian and Jonathan:

Dear Adrian and Jonathan

It is interesting to see that you have taken up the discussion of the relationship between the writing of words and the writing of dance – it seems very much of the moment that other artforms’ relationship to poetry is being reconsidered. That said, I am a little underwhelmed but at the same time not surprised by the poetry you reference. I have to admit that I was unfamiliar with the work of the poet Michael Donaghy. When I checked him out online I realised why I didn’t know his work. It doesn’t surprise me that his line on form is located in tradition; apparently ‘he chooses the analogy of a traditional dance, the form of which acts as a container for what is shared without restricting the freedom of each individual to be spontaneous in response to it.’ This fits completely with the comfortable output of Hegemony of the Banal in UK poetics
- from what I read online, Donaghy was more talented than a lot of his peers but it is still Official Verse Culture, to use Charles Bernstein’s term. The problem with the container with freedom for individual is, as William Carlos Williams said, “all sonnets are the same”.


Adrian asks: ‘Can one consider forms without first considering traditions?’ Of course; not only can one, one must. I would counterpose (paraphrase) Raymond Queneau’s line that we should be rats who construct the labyrinth from which we plan to escape – after all who needs to escape from a labyrinth that’s already been cracked? Again, Adrian identifies the impossibility of the absence of constraint, “and the ways in which constraint is absolutely necessary to the movement that resists and surpasses it.” I think that any formal constraints are what you make them. Referenced in the title ‘Gauge Symmetries’ which I am working on with Ruth Tyson Jones and Helmut Lemke, the only constraints that are impossible to avoid are the gauge symmetries of gravity and the laws of physics. Far from it being compelling that tradition is invoked as a space of freedom, I find it rather dismal; specifically because the ‘tradition’ which is venerated in UK ‘poetry’ is pre-modern. This phenomenon is readily recognisable to contemporary poets - “those who are truly contemporary, who truly belong to their time, are those who neither perfectly coincide with it nor adjust themselves to its demands” as Agamben wrote. The oft turning to tradition never seems to register the poets who actually had something progressive to contribute to Adrian’s ‘nowness’ (and dance) such as, most notably, Bob Cobbing. I hope that Jonathan’s sense of liberation when his cherished notions of dance were challenged by Peter Stamer can also apply to the language challenge to his notions of poetry.

There was a discussion at the recent launch in Salford of the Journal of British & Irish Innovative Poetry along the lines that the UK mainstream is now so artistically bereft that the journal would be wasting its attention to critique it; instead it should focus on the innovative and experimental. Certainly that is true, but as I said in that discussion, there is a field of contention wherein contemporary poetic practice has to engage and this is the dialogue with other artforms. As the Language Moment posits, despite the global art stylistic multiplicity, language is the increasingly unifying, if often unrecognised, constant. Your correspondence on “Performance Matters” manifests the urge of the Language Moment. As does Hans Ulrich Obrist’s recent Poetry Marathon at the Serpentine Gallery. But as I fear both your conversation and Obrist’s Marathon indicate the disconnection of innovative poetic practice from other artform discourse, the void which is filled by the School of Quietude, to use Ron Silliman’s phrase. As a poet I know little about current choreography theory and practice, so why should I expect dance, live art, music or any other form to know where poetry is. As Caroline Bergvall wrote of the Poetry Marathon: “it was something of a disappointment to see so many of them [non-poet artists] react with undisguised anxiety at that same word, ‘poetry.’ Otherwise lucid, articulate artists found themselves in the throes of open self loathing, “I don’t know poetry,” “I don’t know what to read,” choosing to calm the audience by reading from known values such as Eliot, Ted Hughes, Lorca, and Hamburger’s Celan, rather than tracing their own engagement with writing”. I wonder which Celan translation Adrian is using. My concern voiced at the Journal of Innovative Poetics launch is that the poetry mainstream’s only hope of artistic credibility is a critical relocation with an illusory validation from other artforms that have had a path of progress rather than stagnation. It becomes vital for poetry, and for other artforms themselves, that the other artforms know that this is a cul-de-sac which will sideline a vital field of cultural enquiry.

I don’t want my contribution to this conversation to appear patronising about non-poets grasp of contemporary poetics, just to point out that there is a cutting edge and blunt edge and a lot of other artform practitioners and curators are frequently using the poetry latter.

I am interested in Jonathan’s comments about his dedication as a performer to trying to be more 'in the moment'. I had the challenging experience of realising this problem in the first (and often subsequent) development rehearsals with Helmut and Ruth for Gauge Symmetries. Although their interest was the response and dialogue with my linguistic spatialisations, I was forcibly struck by the remarkable ease with which a dancer and a musician can immediately generate ‘nowness’ drawing on their artform’s traditions and capacity for improvisation. As my writing is generated through long slow processes of edit, textual reference, and poetic structuring, it would take me weeks to generate a meaningful text to work in spatial relation to dance-sound actions, to which they can respond spontaneously at the point of unveiling. We did develop forms of interaction over time: I tried various strategies such as pre-installation, so I was slightly ahead in generating a language space, in addition to projections of text but none of these seemed particularly successful or that interesting – projecting texts in a performative space just repeated what many other performance poets have tried. In the sound landscape created by Helmut with his amplified strings attaching him physically to the space plus his use of the sax, I developed a process of installation of lines aiming to uncover spatial geometries and the temporal thickness of Ruth’s responsive movement – the three forms intertwining with each other. However, Adrian’s description of Boris Charmatz’s crashing movement in comparison to dancers in the workshop rings a bell for me. This happens inevitably: an untrained, uncontrolled body has to be clumsy and lumbering beside a crowd of dancers. Having generated the same effect myself, despite my desire to be invisible, in relation to Ruth Tyson-Jones' Laban lyricism, it seems to me a pretty slim and obvious manifestation – what does it actually say other than juxtapositions of some artforms can clash with the aesthetics of others? I am still working on how to delete this effect from our collaboration as I think it doesn’t move the dialogue forward and has little formal value.

To seriously develop this correspondence, I don’t think that there is much mileage in looking at why a written text or dance is what it is, and when it might not be useful to write? Certainly on the latter, it’s not really very useful for a writer to not write. Similarly ‘unpicking the opposition between dance practice as a seemingly uncontained and prolific generator of “the immediate gesture” and language as a more restrained form’ may put me in an analogous danger of Charmatz-like of not recognising the problem you describe. If you locate poetry and dance in Cobbing’s view of poetry as a convergence ‘between’ all various performances, considering dance “perhaps the key to them all” the opposition doesnt exist. Indeed, amongst innovative poets “language as a more restrained form” would sound a very strange idea (OULIPO not withstanding). And maybe I need to get out more, as I have not heard of people comparing the powers of an artwork as like a wound or scare – is this common parlance in dance circles? If this relates also to the burning that Donaghy speaks of – it simply sounds like Romanticism to me.

I find it interesting how discourse about production of art, of whatever form, nowadays so easily shifts to discussion of its reception or consumption – as Jonathan terms it: the old argument about where we place the audience, or readership, in relation to the practice of art making. This argument was also there at the Innovative Poetics Journal launch. It was proposed that Matt Welton’s recent programme in Bolton which placed, for instance, Allen Fisher on a bill with Simon Armitage, and Scott Thurston with Sophie Hannah was valuable because it gave audiences which would come to the mainstream poets the opportunity to access the more innovative practitioners. I recall that Ron Silliman has also been on a bill with Armitage somewhere. I should ask him whether that was to allow an audience access to Armitage's less interesting work. It is the same attitude which informed the Serpentine Poetry Marathon. Although there wasn’t time to argue against this practice at the launch, on reflection, in relation to this correspondence, I feel it needs to be challenged for a number of reasons. Contemporary visual art never gives over exhibition space to traditionalist figurative painters or watercolourists, because historically visual art has been driven by the emerging, by the innovators, by the new. In live art I don’t imagine anyone has attempted to programme Tehching Hsieh in the same programme as X-factor style dancers – correct me if I am wrong. I just don’t see the aesthetic point in the juxtaposition. It will obviously expose the work of Armitage or Hannah or any of the others as not very interesting, but that is obvious anyway without the juxtaposition. Much more interesting is to create experiment: http://www.colin-herd.com/2009/05/can-you-curl-your-tongue-text-festival.html

I agree with cris cheek’s observation about Cobbing that “a performance of writing, in the majority of these cases intended to be in conversation with the possibilities for the poem, was an occasion of a moment”. When I started developing Gauge Symmetries I held to a position of not ‘sounding’ my texts, which I have now modified, as I blogged back in November (http://tony-trehy.blogspot.com/2009/11/on-jazz-or-comedy.html) so I look forward to investigating the possibilities this holds up. This may seem contradictory to the powerful validity Adrian attributes to choreographers and performance makers negotiating performance propositions in social space. But I take Bob Perelman’s position that writing in all its dimensions is fully social. It has been said that the difference between an innovative poetry reading and a mainstream reading is that the latter has an audience of readers and the former is an audience of writers. Something similar to Adrian’s comment that the audience is a co-creator of the work and is integral to its meaning, they are not simply spectating ‘upon’ it. Indeed I think that an audience’s job is to contribute a magnifying intensity to the artist’s deeper ontological investigation of the work. Charles Bernstein observes that “To speak of the poem in performance is, then, to overthrow the idea of the poem as a fixed, stable, finite linguistic object; it is to deny the poem its self-presence and its unity. Thus while performance emphasizes the material presence of the poem, and of the performer, it at the same time denies the unitary presence of the poem, which is to say its metaphysical unity.” I am not sure I'd go all the way with Charles on this, but I think, in performance the artist is generally characterised as outward
facing from the work, offering it up; conversely I believe that the existential dynamic of the audience’s Otherness focuses the moment of presentation, it offers the artist an implosive potential energy to turn inwards to the work, and with this intensity for future works.

Best wishes
Tony

December 27, 2009

Review of the Year: 2009



Tis’ the light-hearted season of reviews of the year. Not that anyone cares, but I might as well play the game too – a personal review of my top cultural experiences.

Best Exhibition of 2009: I saw a lot of shows this year and straight away the problem of how you compare one thing with another rears up. The tour de force show was “Holbein to Tillmans” exhibition at the Schaulager in Basel


I blogged it back in June (http://tony-trehy.blogspot.com/2009/06/as-mentioned-schaulager-is-great-space.html). Also worth consideration, coincidentally seen at the same time was “The World of Madelon Vriesendorp” at Basel Architekturmuseum. A strong contender for show of the year would have to be the Darcy Lange exhibition at the Ikon Gallery in Birmingham. http://www.ikon-gallery.co.uk/programme/current/event/263/work_studies_in_schools/ . Blogged in January, I’d also recall Grazia Toderi’s excellent video installation “Fantasia” at Base in Florence, http://www.baseitaly.org/Grazia%20Toderi.html . Though you can’t include your own curating in this sort of review, I think “Not At This Address” at Bury Art Gallery was a cracker too. And the name in the gold envelope is “Holbein to Tillmans” at the Schaulager.

Best Museum: Moominvalley Museum, Tampere, Finland.

http://inter9.tampere.fi/muumilaakso/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=22&Itemid=45

Best Film: I realise now that I saw very few films this year so this category is a bit thin on the ground. With no claim to greatness other than I am a fan, I give this one to the new Star Trek.

Best music: will seem a funny mix; Norwegian Jazz - Håkon Kornstad: Dwell Time http://www.kornstad.com/dwelltime/ contemporary music - various works by Luigi Nono http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luigi_Nono indie-pop from everything everything
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFM_kTAYVsU and 17th Century Tobias Hume’s Poeticall Musicke http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tobias_Hume - this one can go to whichever I am in the mood for.

Best Book: Phil Davenport’s “About Everything” was a great piece, though as I saw it from early draft stages, so I feel a bit too close to it; Tony Lopez’s “Darwin”, of course, and the other book I particularly enjoyed was Carol Watt’s “When blue light falls”; however, the one that I reached for when thinking about this was P.Inman’s “Ad Finitumhttp://www.ifpthenq.co.uk/books.html

Out of a lot of sound works I heard this year, the Best sound work ‘award’ goes to Ben Gwilliam for his ice-vinyl playing of 'molto semplice e cantabile'. http://www.thosesoundsbetween.co.uk/


Best Poetry Reading both Ron Silliman’s readings, at Bury and at Birkbeck, were great to see; but the Text Festival gig was more adrenaline filled for me because of the experiment in juxtaposing Hester Reeve, Claus van Bebber, and Catriona Glover, which meant that I couldn’t really relax to enjoy it. So the reading that I most personally enjoyed was the Bury Poems (Carol Watts, Phil Davenport and Tony Lopez) event.
From art to luxury:

Best Hotel: Marriott London Grosvenor Square

December 26, 2009

Speak is Code

(News from Phil in China)

Jiao Tong Teahouse 28 December 2009

Yao Bo, Philip Davenport, Wang Jun

Jiao Tong Teahouse is a mesh of conversations, meetings, deals made, gambling and over it all, parrots swing on their perches, aping the human noise. It is an intersection and into it the work of three artists is placed for the Speak is Code exhibition. The works explore the space between us all, locate the holes in language and - as Davenport’s poem says – “The impasse between skin.”

Yao Bo, ceramicist and painter premieres a version of her continuing major work On Reading Beckett: a long text response to Beckett is handwritten in Chinese script onto manuscript paper. As counterpoint, a series of collapsed pots – like collapsed lungs – are placed onto each piece of paper. From some of the pots comes the sound of the piece being read aloud. Yao Bo’s work explores the delicate seams of identity – where we join and where we fall apart.

My Paintings are Invisible by Philip Davenport is a poem sequence combining Chinese and Western alphabets. The work is dedicated to Hai Zi (1965-89) the Chinese poet. Alphabets of East and West entwine to make word pictures, ‘invisible paintings’, each given an imaginary colour. They are on translucent paper, scripted half in Chinese (by Chinese artists) and half in English. The two alphabets sometimes join, sometimes separate. These are ‘paintings’ of absence, images that never grow clear – and Hai Zi becomes a symbol for all who are missing, all that we cannot say.

Wang Jun is an artist whose works balance meaning against nothing. His recent pieces cross-breed industrial processes with the landscapes of hanzi that fill his paintings. He crunches together the Tao Te Ching, Wiggenstein and postmodernity into mould-presses misfits.

Exhibition curated by Philip Davenport, artist in residence 501 Artspace. Contributing artists to My Paintings are Invisible: Deng Chuan, Mao Yan Yang, Pang Xuan, Wang Jun, Xu Guang Fu, Yan Yan, Zheng Li, translation Deng Chuan, Yan Yan and Zhong Na. Philip would like to thank all for their kindness and for the beauty of their writing.

December 24, 2009

Merry Christmas


for the first ethic of christmas my true love sent to me an ambiguity in a non-temporal truth for the second ethic of christmas my true love sent to me two hierarchies between body and soul and an ambiguity in a non-temporal truth for the third ethic of christmas my true love sent to me three veils of illusion two hierarchies between body and soul and an ambiguity in a non-temporal truth for the fourth ethic of christmas my true love sent to me four errors of dogmatism three veils of illusion two hierarchies between body and soul and an ambiguity in a non-temporal truth for the fifth ethic of christmas my true love sent to me five extrinsic justifications four errors of dogmatism three veils of illusion two hierarchies between body and soul and an ambiguity in a non-temporal truth for the sixth ethic of christmas my true love sent to me six phenomenal modalities five extrinsic justifications four errors of dogmatism three veils of illusion two hierarchies between body and soul and an ambiguity in a non-temporal truth for the seventh ethic of christmas my true love sent to me seven inner experiences six phenomenal modalities five extrinsic justifications four errors of dogmatism three veils of illusion two hierarchies between body and soul and an ambiguity in a non-temporal truth for the eighth ethic of christmas my true love sent to me eight possibilities of realising seven inner experiences six phenomenal modalities five extrinsic justifications four errors of dogmatism three veils of illusion two hierarchies between body and soul and an ambiguity in a non-temporal truth for the ninth ethic of christmas my true love sent to me nine ladies dancing eight possibilities of realising seven inner experiences six phenomenal modalities five extrinsic justifications four errors of dogmatism three veils of illusion two hierarchies between body and soul and an ambiguity in a non-temporal truth for the tenth ethic of christmas my true love sent to me ten favourable circumstances nine ladies dancing eight possibilities of realising seven inner experiences six phenomenal modalities five extrinsic justifications four errors of dogmatism three veils of illusion two hierarchies between body and soul and an ambiguity in a non-temporal truth for the eleventh ethic of christmas my true love sent to me eleven singular conjunctures ten favourable circumstances nine ladies dancing eight possibilities of realising seven inner experiences six phenomenal modalities five extrinsic justifications four errors of dogmatism three veils of illusion two hierarchies between body and soul and an ambiguity in a non-temporal truth for the twelfth ethic of christmas my true love sent to me twelve harmonious equilibria eleven singular conjunctures ten favourable circumstances nine ladies dancing eight possibilities of realising seven inner experiences six phenomenal modalities five extrinsic justifications four errors of dogmatism three veils of illusion two hierarchies between body and soul and an ambiguity in a non-temporal truth

Overcasting (Databolism) - Noah Pred

  As mentioned in the last post, it's always been the objective to make our context conducive for artists to create and think, that was ...