-
Recent Posts
Blogroll
Artists
- Alec Soth
- Alex Catt
- Alexi Hobbs
- Allie Mount
- Andrés Marroquín Winklemann
- Anna Paola Guerra
- Antonio Xoubanova
- Audrey Leignel
- Brian Ulrich
- Bryan Schutmaat
- Casey Dunn
- Chris Dorley-Brown
- Christopher Schreck
- Curran Hatleberg
- David Luraschi
- David Wilson
- David Wright
- Delaney Allen
- Éditions FPCF
- Eliot Dudik
- Emil Kozak
- Eva Vermandel
- Gregory Halpern
- Hin Chua
- Irina Rozovsky
- J Carrier
- Jason Fulford
- Jason Koxvold
- José Javier Serrano
- Justin James Reed
- Katy Grannan
- Kenneth Bamberg
- Mark Peckmezian
- Matt Anderson
- Matt Warder
- Matthew Gafsou
- Max Pigott
- Michal Luczak
- Michele Cera
- Missy Prince
- Olya Ivanova
- Patrick Sundqvist
- Paul Graham
- Raphaël Bourelly
- Rhodri Brooks
- Richard Higginbottom
- Richard Rothman
- Ron Jude
- Salva López
- Sean Stewart
- Susan Worsham
- Sze Tsung Leong
- Tommy Forbes
- Txema Salvans
- Ute & Werner Mahler
- Vanessa Winship
- Yannik Willing
- Ye Rin Mok
Categories
Tag Archives: Poetry
Mauron on Mallarmé
“All who remember the day when first they looked into the Poems or the Divagations will testify to that curious feeling of exclusion which put them, in the face of a text written with their words (and moreover, as they could somehow… Continue reading
Discussion
Leave a comment
Category Art, Criticism, Poetry, Thought
Tags Abstraction, Charles Mauron, Criticism, Language, Poetry, Postmodernism, Stéphane Mallarmé
The Blindness of Needles, by Bruce Bond
When a maker of images goes deaf, he sees a world clarified by silence, a lens wept over the things unspoken. Doubtless this is why we find the man facedown on a drawing table, hands on his head to shelter… Continue reading
Foucault on Language
“At the moment of speaking, I would like to have perceived a nameless voice, long preceding me, leaving me merely to enmesh myself in it, taking up its cadence, and to lodge myself, when no one was looking, in its… Continue reading
Discussion
Leave a comment
Category Art, Theory, Thought
Tags Language, Michel Foucault, Philosophy, Poetry, Theory
The Seeming, by Muriel Rukeyser
Between the illuminations of great mornings there comes the dailiness of doing and being and the hand as it makes as it brightens burnishes the surfaces seemings mirrors of the world We do not know… Continue reading
From “Hotel Lautreamont” by John Ashberry
It remains for us to come to terms with our commonality. Small wonder that those at home sit nervous by the unlit grate. It was their choice, after all, that spurred us to feats of the imagination. It remains for… Continue reading
Beckett on Language
“It is indeed becoming more and more difficult, even senseless, for me to write an official English. And more and more my own language appears to me like a veil that must be torn apart in order to get at… Continue reading
Discussion
Leave a comment
Category Art, Poetry, Thought
Tags Art, Language, Poetry, Samuel Beckett, Theatre
One off: from “Ghosts at Garnet” by Richard Hugo
What endures is what we have neglected: tins that fed them, rusting now in piles. For weeds all Mays are equal yellow. Beneath our skin, gold veins run wild to China. That false front on the bar that stands is… Continue reading
Discussion
Leave a comment
Category Art, Poetry
Tags Bryan Schutmaat, Photography, Poetry, Richard Hugo
Our Valley, by Philip Levine
We don’t see the ocean, not ever, but in July and August when the worst heat seems to rise from the hard clay of this valley, you could be walking through a fig orchard when suddenly the wind cools and… Continue reading
Discussion
Leave a comment
Category Art, Poetry, Thought
Tags Bryan Schutmaat, Landscape Photography, Philip Levine, Photography, Poetry
Meyer on poetry
“Poetry celebrates not only presence but the multiplicity of presence & the infinite possibilities of there. The poem has the power of location, it is a place — an actual (not metaphorical!) spatial event of language which begins in the mouth… Continue reading
From “The Country Without a Post Office”, by Agha Shahid Ali
Again I’ve returned to this country where a minaret has been entombed. Someone soaks the wicks of clay lamps in mustard oil, each night climbs its steps to read messages scratched on planets. His fingerprints cancel blank stamps in that… Continue reading
Discussion
Leave a comment
Category Art, Poetry, Politics
Tags Agha Shahid Ali, India, Kashmir, Pakistan, Poetry, Politics