college is for winning the war of words

I've just read an op-ed piece published by an undergraduate named Irwin Kahn in the Daily Pennsylvanian (the student newspaper at Penn) dated October 6, 1952. We were losing the war in Korea, Kahn argued, because "we" (he seems to mean only anticommunists and pro-capitalists) were losing the rhetorical battle at home. Schools (he presumably meant Penn too) should be active in teaching the benefits of capitalism and the horrors of alternative economic theories. Any fair and free curriculum would teach "that the path of capitalism and free enterprise is the road for them [the 'masses']." But don't think too much: "Probably the individual's right to strive, the highlight of the American way, is lost amid our own introspection." Here's a link to the whole text.

50 million poems

Here is a note we're sending around tonight:

Dear friends & colleagues:

Users of PennSound downloaded 4 million mp3 sound recordings and related media files in the past month. At this point, we are projecting 50 million downloads for 2009. This is far, far beyond what we expected when we created PennSound in 2003-04, and we're grateful that the project is receiving such a positive response.

Al Filreis & Charles Bernstein, Co-Directors
Mike Hennessey, Managing Editor

divinity school does March madness

Middle of my long long day in the archive yesterday. Was told by a knowing-looking student that I could get a really good and strong cup of coffee at a funky cafe in the unrenovated basement of the U of Chicago Divinity School, and here I found an NCAA tourney-like bracket for gods and godly figures, presented on a chalkboard behind the counter. The Final Four: Buddha defeats David, Obama beats Moses. Final goes to Buddha. The whole place was swarming with divinity students. They were hepped up on the java, which really was as good as I'd heard.

beautiful ugly

The Regenstein Library at the University of Chicago. On my own list of the top five most beautiful ugly buildings in the world, it's number 3. It's a Skidmore, Owings, and Merrill building, completed in 1970. It stands on the former grounds of the great Stagg Field. (Think about that as a symbol of a university: Hutchins got rid of the football team in 1931 or something like that. Big controversial move. So build a library on the site--just to press the symbolic shift to academics--by 1935. Goodness knows, there were New Deal stimulus dollars around to do so, and Hutchins was a good fund-raiser. No**, get rid to the football program and then take 40 years to build on top of it.)

** Of course there are probably 100 stories about why this makes sense. And wasn't it under the stadium that the A-bomb research was first done?

which era is the era of The Pound Era?

Hugh Kenner's huge (and hugely important) book on Pound was published in 1973. A book of its time? Well, considering '73: maybe a book counter to the trend of its time. Ah, but never mind those assumptions. The book was first planned in....1960. Thirteen years earlier. As I learned yesterday when reading some Kenner correspondence in Chicago. Check out my 1960 blog for more.

ut pictura poesis descends a staircase

Here's X. J. Kennedy's "Nude Descending a Staircase," published in 1959 or 1960. From the title we know that Kennedy was in some sense at least rewriting or reworking the image of Duchamp's great early modern kinetic-cubist painting of the same name. I could go on and on about this poem as a 1950s-style poetical quietism. I won't here. Maybe what one can say on this score will be obvious. Whereas in the Duchamp the subject position is everywhere at once (we are seeing the nude from all angles - she moves and thus our rendering of her must be dynamic), here we are watching her from below - down the stairs. (In porn-ish pics I believe this is called "upskirt." Google that word and watch out.) From that vantage "we" watch her thighs rub together and although there's "the swinging air" the image is static. We've seen her, spied her. rendered her. Her descent is likened (it is not itself but something like it) and then, in the final line of the poem, the motion is not motion, but has a definitive end. Her motions are collected into a shape, a metered and rhymed who-has-zoomed-who unmistakable shape. This poem about a painting about constant mimesis-defying movement ironizes that kind of movement.

Here you go:

Nude Descending a Staircase

Toe upon toe, a snowing flesh,
A gold of lemon, root and rind,
She sifts in sunlight down the stairs
With nothing on. Nor on her mind.

We spy beneath the banister
A constant thresh of thigh on thigh--
Her lips imprint the swinging air
That parts to her parts go by.

One-woman waterfall, she wears
Her slow descent like a long cape
And pausing, on the final stair
Collects her motions into shape.

PoemTalk #15 released

Episode #15 of PoemTalk is being released today. It's 25 minutes of talk about a single poem - this time, a poem by Lyn Hejinian and the talkers are Tom Mandel, Bob Perelman, Tom Devaney and myself. Take a look at the PoemTalk blog entry and find all the links you'll need, including, of course, to the show itself.

live-blogging from mega-churches

Four of our students are live-blogging from southern mega-churches this week. The photo above was taken during set-up for yesterday's gathering at a church in Virginia. Follow them as they go.

the new Booker T.

For the communist-affiliated Masses & Mainstream, novelist Lloyd Brown wrote a negative review of Ellison's Invisible Man in June of 1952. Here's a passage:

Here, as in James Jones' whine From Here to Eternity, is the one-man-against-the-world theme, a theme which cannot tell the "whole truth" or any part of the truth about the Negro people in America or about any other people anywhere.

Ellison's narrator-hero is a shadowy concept, lacking even the identity of a name, who tells of his Odyssey through a Negro college in the South, then to Harlem where he is hired by the Communists as their mass leader ("How would you like to be the new Booker T. Washington?'') for $300 cash advance and the munificent, depression-period pay of $60 per week; he is quickly disillusioned and, battered in body and soul, finds refuge down a man-hole from whence to write a book about it all.

It would not be in order here to speak of responsibility, for the writer has anticipated and answered that objection in the prologue: "I can hear you say, 'What a horrible, irresponsible bastard!' And you're right. I leap to agree with you. I am one of the most irresponsible beings that ever lived."

The text of the whole review has been on my 1950s web site for 15 years and is one of the most often-visited pages I have.

new at PennSound

New, new, new...at PennSound: our Michael Davidson author page. Michael has been at UCSD since 1974, where he helped create the now utterly invaluable Mandeville Special Collections (which houses manuscripts of many avant-garde poets including George Oppen and Jackson Mac Low). He is the editor of a new edition of Oppen's collected poems (2002), has published many books of poems, and a number of critical books. Of the latter, The San Francisco Renaissance: Poetics and Community at Mid-Century is probably the most well known (1989). My own favorite is Ghostlier Demarcations: Modern Poetry and the Material Word which is, in part, about the modernist documentary poem and was a real influence on my writing about the same form in my Counter-Revolution of the Word.

a pre-spring walk up the west side

Yesterday afternoon we walked from West 10th Street, up along the Hudson, to West 83rd. It's three miles (surprisingly). The much longed-for continuous parkscape along the west side of Manhattan isn't nearly finished yet, but of course one can walk or bike along a continuous path (rough in some places, temporarily wending through construction sites in others). And of course there are two beautifully designed sections of completed park--benches, separate bike and walking paths, lawn, playgrounds, boardwalks and docks, etc.

Steve Earle

Steve Earle - yes, the great Steve Earle - stopped in at the Writers House two nights ago. He met with a group of about 50 people in the living room during a reception and then went into the Arts Cafe where Mingo Reynolds introduced and Anthony DeCurtis moderated a conversation - during which Earle played three of his songs and talked about them and lots else. We've caught the whole wonderful event as a downloadable mp3 audio and as a streaming video. And here are photos of the evening taken by John Carroll. The program is funded by a generous grant from Mitch and Margot Blutt. Previous singer-songwriters have been Rosanne Cash and Suzanne Vega. If you have ideas for next year, send 'em along.

KWH now twittering

Now you can follow the Kelly Writers House on Twitter.

habits of energy and rashness at 100

The current "Poetry off the Shelf" podcast from the Poetry Foundation is a discussion of the current state of the manifesto. Mary Anne Caws (whose Manifesto I happily own and whose pages make me laugh out loud with delight) is interviewed by Curtis Fox, and we get to hear Charles Bernstein read from Marinetti's great futurist manifesto at a recent MoMA birthday celebration. We're celebrating 100 years since Marinetti published it.

Here are the first three ironic/unironic dicta:

1. We want to sing the love of danger, the habit of energy and rashness.
2. The essential elements of our poetry will be courage, audacity and revolt.
3. Literature has up to now magnified pensive immobility, ecstasy and slumber. We want to exalt movements of aggression, feverish sleeplessness, the double march, the perilous leap, the slap and the blow with the fist.

From Art in America's coverage of the event at MoMA celebrating the 100th birthday:

The MoMa event was a collaboration between the newly established Modern Poets series (an attempt to revitalize Frank O'Hara's legacy within the institution) and Poetry journal. The journal had commissioned eight new manifestoes on poetry, four authors of which, with different ideologies and stylistic approaches, were invited to the event. Joshua Mehigen, A.E. Stallings, Charles Bernstein and Thomas Sayers Ellis each read Futurist manifestoes and finished the day performing their own works. It kicked off with Bernstein, a legendary L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poet, declaiming in full, high-pitched throttle Marinetti's original manifesto. Nonplussed by it all, the passing crowds simply stared at him.

Above is a reproduction of the manifesto as it appeared in Le Figaro on February 20, 1909.

Joyce in my pocket

Regular readers of this blog might recall the excitement I expressed at acquiring my Kindle, around six months ago. The excitement hasn't abated. Reading articles, magazine issues (e.g. Slate), newspapers, dissertation chapters and draft essays*, occasionally whole books on my Kindle has become part of my routine. Saves paper (especially those drafts!), carries with me most places...it's the portable library its advocates claim.

Today a new iPhone application is being released - Kindle for iPhone (and iTouch). This means merely that through my iPhone I can read all the books that are stored for me by Amazon through my Kindle account. Not ideal for, let's say, a weekend-long read of Ulysses. Nor would I ever, at home, pick up my iPhone to read these books when I can use my Kindle. But for the train, for waiting in long lines, for the days when I meant to bring my Kindle but have forgetten it, having this phone access to the library will be fabulous for me. And it would give me pleasure to ponder a page of Joyce in the supermarket. The phone these days is always in the pocket.

Here's a passage from today's NYT story:

Starting Wednesday, owners of these Apple devices can download a free application, Kindle for iPhone and iPod Touch, from Apple’s App Store. The software will give them full access to the 240,000 e-books for sale on Amazon.com, which include a majority of best sellers.

* Oh yes, as you might know, the Kindle set-up permits one to email oneself any text in familiar formats (e.g. Word, PDF, html). So if a colleague sends me the draft of a 30-page paper for a quick read and response, I can email it to myself at my @kindle account and within minutes it will be on the Kindle, readable in book-like page view.

three from the Vienna paradox

Marjorie Perloff's PennSound page includes a talk she gave at the Writers House on Frank O' Hara, Jasper Johns, and John Cage in the Sixties; a reading from her memoir, The Vienna Paradox, at Buffalo; and remarks she gave at a 2004 conference on secular Jewish culture and radical Jewish poetic practice. All three recordings are very good - and quite different from each other. But it's surely not enough Perloff, so we'll get out there looking for more. I recommend David Zauhar's essay on her 1990s output, but it seems almost time for someone to assess her 00's too. Marjorie is good at many things. For the moment my favorite of her targets (often of satire) is the sorry state of mainstream literary journalism. Zap! Zing!

Cheever everywhere

The death of books? Maybe, depending on how narrowly you define "books." Take John Cheever's brilliant early (first?) short story, "Goodbye, My Brother." There are more ways to read this text than one could have imagined ten years ago when it was already deemed a classic. By now it's seemingly everywhere!

(1) It's in Vintage Cheever, a book that Random House has made available online in full text.

(2) Here's a Google books version of the story, "Goodbye, My Brother": link.

(3) Here's the Amazon entry for Cheever's Collected Stories: link.

(4) And here's the Kindle edition: link.

(5) And finally the story is on the web (although password-protected): link.

PennSound tweet

You can follow PennSound on Twitter now. Get updates on new recordings as they are added. Highlights, etc.

something more intimate to what is called thinking

When we at the Writers House brought Craig Saper back to Penn in 2001 to give a talk about Fluxus, some of us attended because we are fascinating by Fluxus and really admire Craig's way of discussing such art. A few Writers House regulars came in spite of not knowing of Saper's brilliance at first hand - but because it was known around the House that he had praised KWH as a learning community (see below). Still others came because they still by then lamented the loss of Craig from the Penn faculty (by denial of tenure). On that occasion Joshua Schuster - he was by then a grad student but he'd known Saper from his days as an undergrad too - gave a fine introduction. Here is that introduction, in its entirety:

I have this vision stuck in my head of Craig Saper, at the University of Pennsylvania, in 1996, pulling up an essay by Walter Benjamin and reading: "I am unpacking my library. Yes, I am." It was a storybook beginning to a storybook class. We were confronted from the outset that there was a crises in criticism and that we were going to have to invent our way out of it. At stake was a way both in and out of criticism itself. Benjamin was a model; that the act of unpacking one's library could be the very model for a form of scholarship and knowledge. Where else could we find models? With adrenaline and a hallucinatory focus, and perhaps anything could serve as the conceptual apparatus from which to generate new ways of thinking. How can an event be a model of thought? How do you think a handshake or a barricade or a letter being passed through a postal system? All that is solid melts into air-there, capital in its own act of disguise was exposed as a model for new ways of thinking. Or a telephone call, that brings one to the question of what is called thinking? Or to take tonight's topic Fluxus, the art movement, could it secretly be the code by which a university could be built anew?

This search for models itself repeated the structure of avant-garde art, which by fiat never distinguished between material and event as the substances for creative thinking. Using materiality and event as the basis for thinking was nothing new in philosophy either: who could not say that the Greeks used the model of the sun to begin the adventure into philosophy, or the model of the philosopher falling into the well as the model of skepticism? But the key to creativity here was not to use the avant-garde as an object of criticism, but as a process of thinking itself. The false prison of the code of professionalized knowledge in the university was sundered. The breakdown in power became a power generator itself. You became your idea, it possessed you and took you into places you weren't sure could be real. At one point I found myself defending the logic of flypaper by waving the sticky, slimy paper during a lecture. One felt what it might be like not simply to think about knowledge, but to be inside the very force of knowledge when it breaks off from knowledge itself.

The university did not take this irreverent challenge standing still. As the story goes, the university asserted itself in its own model of thought, professional, tame, middle class, coherent with all the techniques of capital. And Craig Saper was not permitted to remain (although thankfully he did find another post at another university, so this fortunately complicates my demonizing of academia). Still, this moment was the most true lesson of my entire undergraduate experience: that knowledge, as a form of discourse, does not take lightly any challenge to its operational status. That knowledge is a field that must be respected, monitered and maintained, and the critic must tend this field, making sure that its fertility is properly harnessed and controlled.

From out of this field Craig Saper comes to us. He is the storyteller that Walter Benjamin warned us about. But he won't just tell us stories that will sooth us and rid us of our fears that grow in the all-too-triumphant field of academia. Not now, not in this world, which is at war, which is constantly in the mode of coming to terms with its own crises. All one can hope for is that somehow the world is becoming more open to such a story teller, a person like Craig Saper who will engage and possibly dazzle his audience, not simply with knowledge, but with something far more intimate to what is called thinking.

For the record, I also want to note that in April of 1997, just before the Writers House closed for 4 months of renovation (after which it opened again as "the Kelly Writers House"), Craig was with us to present as one of the earliest sessions of a series still going today - "Theorizing." That day Craig presented with Dick Higgins, one of the most important Fluxus artists. And: see this earlier post about Craig's "Readies."

new app kicks my butt; or, I only intended apples & oranges

I'm happily using a new iPhone application that works pretty seamlessly with blogger. I can't imagine what real advantage this gives me or anyone other than sheer speed and super-presence or ridiculous immediacy. Yet isn't blogging already so immediate (at least in tone and diction) as to be ridiculous? Yet again I can imagine real live-blogging - for instance from a reading or art event. I'll try it soon so stay tuned. The photo below I found just now in my phone's camera log - taken during the reception last week at our Silliman celebration. Erin Gautsche and the KWH students went through "The Alphabet" looking for food references and then served us only items mentioned in Ron's poetry. I was never gladder than at that moment that Ron had spent so much time in California. He is by no means a foodie poet (an understatement) but the New Sentence does tend to grab up a few of the nutritions in the environment. "I don't mean to presume uh if you could it seems that is I only intended apples and oranges" (from Garfield, p. 49).

a few notes on the cultural cold war

Here's my introduction to a session featuring readings for the Rothenberg/Joris Poems for the Millenium back in 1998. In my 11-minute intro I tried to do something a little more than my usual short get-out-of-the-way segue to the main presenters. I wanted to say something in particular about Jerome Rothenberg's passage (as a young poet) through the cultural cold war. I make reference, for instance, to his discovery at the University of Michigan that in the 1950s Whitman was definitely on the outs. (To get to my comments about Rothenberg in the 50s, you can go immediately to a point halfway through the recording.)

remembering the objectivists

In the fall of 2005, Harvey Shapiro and Norman Finkelstein came together - to read their poems in tandem, and to talk about the objectivists, which, in Harvey's case, entailed remembering them through years of personal as well as aesthetic interaction. Bob Perelman moderated the discussion about the objectivists, and here are some audio recordings of a few highlights:

[] on the Jewishness of the objectivists

[] on reading Zukofsky

[] on Lorine Niedecker.

And there's more. Consult our Shapiro-Finkelstein page.

cheap images seen between bars

Readers of this blog will know that I am a fan of Erica Baum's photography. Well, good news: we can see her new work at Dispatch, 127 Henry Street (NYC), until March 22. Below at left is one of the new photographs, and here's a short review from Artforum by Robin O'Neill-Butler:

The red-, blue-, and green-stippled book edges in Erica Baum’s new photographs bring to mind the paperbacks that encumber used-book stores, thrift shops, and family libraries: faded film adaptations, celebrity biographies, and the occasional art monograph. In this exhibition, she walks a fine line between documentation and concealment, presenting pictures of eight such books fanning out and close-up, open but not completely exposed. Fragments of text and cheaply reproduced images––Goldie Hawn in a scene from Shampoo (1975), Art Garfunkel, Richard and Pat Nixon––are evident between the bars. Although these images appear to mine a specific American decade, the 1970s, Baum shirks nostalgia for abstraction. Previously her work (in black-and-white) examined card catalogs, from which she derived a form of clinical and concrete poetry (SEX DIFFERENCES—SHIRTS, reads one). Here, the pulsating hues create geometric patterns, which appear painterly from a distance and recall a colorful version of Gerhard Richter’s “Vorhang” (Curtain) series from the mid-’60s. The fine red vertical lines in Art, 2008, for example, neatly frame the seated, youthful musician and echo the saturated crimson blocks in Nixon and Pat, 2009, which seem to split the image in half. Without entirely displacing the subjects of these photographs, Baum shrewdly extracts image and text from source, pushing language, both visual and verbal, to unstable, higher ground.

See this earlier entry.

left-right battle in history department becomes art

In 1974, the History department at CCNY erupted into a bitter political dispute in which older faculty members Stanley Page, Edward Rosen and others accused their younger colleagues of disruptive leftist agitation.

In a work called "Accused" (1975) Charles Bernstein performs the 1975 CUNY Faculty Senate report on the matter.

Available at PennSound is the entire 45-minute recording of this piece: MP3.

we're all in the big glass

This of course is Marcel Duchamp's "The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even (The Large Glass)," 1915-23. The materials include oil, lead foil, lead wire and (say the people at the Philadelphia Museum of Art) "dust" also. All on (or in) two glass panels. A box of papers that are the drawn plans and other writings about the project, by Duchamp, is displayed nearby. (The box makes me think of Robert Granier's Sentences, and although I'm no expert on Sentences I have to guess that Grenier was in part thinking of and positively influenced by these sorts of boxes-of-papers-as-art projects Duchamp undertook.)

Bride Stripped is hard to photograph, even by good photographers (I am not that). I try to see it at least once a year at the PMA and always try my hand at snapshots. This time I didn't wait for people also looking at the work to move away and decided just to let them be part of the transparency. Without knowing this as a matter of fact, I'm certain that Duchamp would want them to be included in the view.

the poet as novelist

I just spent a wonderful two days with Robert Coover, visiting us as a Writers House Fellow, our first of three this spring (next up is Joan Didion). The reading Bob gave last night was riveting. He read all languagy stuff - prose-poems, really. Antic, thick with sound, featuring some of his many imitative American voices. I wanted him to do an encore of "The Fallguy's Faith," his brilliant 1.5-page piece about Humpty Dumpty, which reads like a gone-awry thesaurus of American idioms around falling and fallen. Fortunately Bob Coover came back this morning and I had the opportunity to interview him and moderate a discussion with others, both there at the House and about 35 people watching the live video stream. And I asked him to read the Humpty piece this morning. Here are your links:

[] our Coover page with links to video of the reading and the interview, and audio-only mp3's of both;

[] a few photographs from Coover's 3-hour session with the students in my Fellows seminar;

[] the text of Vince Levy's introduction to Coover at the Monday night reading.

[] photographs of the visit (by John Carroll)

don't be a Henny Penny about texting

I'm quoted in today's Washington Post - in a story about text messaging. The writer, Donna St. George, with whom I spoke the other day, is smart and nice, but let's face it: if the "story" was that these new forms of succinct writing were modestly or significantly beneficial, the Post would never run it. But Henny Pennyism runs amok when a new technology is so rapidly embraced by the young while parents and teachers are left somewhat behind. And maybe it's not specifically technology at all - but change of this sort generally. To be sure, Ms. St. George's article is full of moderate comments and no evidence even close to conclusive that any damage is being done. There's the usual anecdotal nightmare-scenario remark by an expert that the reading of Shakespeare might be interrupted by a message from some acronym-obsessed best friend, but, c'mon, in the 1930s the Shakespeare assignment would have been interrupted by the neighbor banging on the window with an urgent request to come out and play or the sneaking out from under the covers of the girly mag, or in the '70s by a quick listen, big headphones over the head, to a cut from the latest LP...or, in any era, by nose-picking, doodling, phone-calling, etc. If the interruption is the writing of more language, that in fact seems better to me, by far, than the time-honored proscrastinations of what we now call our golden ages of childhood. And why does high-culture Shakespeare always appear as the positive object of attention? (Well,because it makes the story about a skirmish in the culture wars. High = Shakespeare, low = texting. Stop the low, save the high! Cause, effect.) What makes inattention to one's homework new here? And what makes this kind of inattention (but really it's multiple attentiveness) ipso facto bad? Or inattention to anything one is ought to be doing? I suggest that those concerned about all this read John Ashbery's pre-internet poem, "The Instruction Manual." The speaker is doing exactly what he shouldn't be doing, and possibly he's multi-tasking with greater focus on the daydreamt Other. And he's writing as a brilliant means of avoiding responsibility. And what comes of that? Oh, imagination...art.

Lenny, Allen, Dustin

Yesterday Lawrence Schwartzwald photographed Dustin Hoffman on Madison Avenue reading Allen Ginsberg's selected interviews. Lawrence reminds me that Hoffman played Lenny Bruce and that in the famous Ginsberg-William Buckley Firing Line debate of September 1968 Lenny Bruce was discussed. The transcript of that encounter is on pp. 76-102 of the book, and presumably Lawrence asked Dustin to take a look at it here, so one of those circles gets turned all the way around in a single image. Click on the image above for a closer view.

Earlier I posted Lawrence's great shot of Patti Smith reading about Wallace Stevens.

(c) Lawrence Schwartzwald

the before took us right up to the after

"Preposition," by Sally Van Doren, from her book, Sex at Noon Taxes.

a web site that doesn't function as a page

Roderick Coover's hyper-narrative "Voyage into the Unknown" program traces John Wesley Powell's journey down the Colorado River in 1869. River-like, the site moves horizontally rather than vertically. You can take side trips. Etc.

function as form

Jane, who has a fabulous eye for such things, loves this particular view at the Philadelphia Museum of Art just as much as anything hanging from the walls in this corridor. (It's the corridor just outside the Walter & Louise Arensberg modernist art rooms.) The tall white ELEVATOR lettering in contrast to the elaborate elevator doors. As if the entrance to some deco baptistry. Anyway, it surely all gets to count among the artwork there, yes?

NASA's Nazis

Back in the 90s, Linda Hunt (who had been with CNN) was writing a book about all the former Nazi scientists who had then come to the U.S. and worked at NASA. She was particularly irked by the NASA distinguished service award being presented to Arthur Rudolph who later left the country rather than face charges as a Nazi war criminal. I posted her short article about this to my Holocaust site years ago, and just this morning re-read it.

I don't see that Hunt published a book on this but I do find these two articles:

[] Linda Hunt, "U.S. Cover-up of Nazi Scientists" Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists. April, 1985. [4]

[] Linda Hunt, Arthur Rudolph of Dora and NASA, Moment 4, 1987 (Yorkshire Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament)

alphabet review

Here's a video of Rachel Blau DuPlessis' statement about Ron Silliman's The Alphabet, which she (with the help of Phillip Barron) prepared for the Silliman celebration earlier this week at the Kelly Writers House. An entry I made a few days ago gives you a little more information about the event and a link to that video.


Rachel Blau DuPlessis on Ron Silliman's The Alphabet from Phillip Barron on Vimeo.

Rimbaud

We've just uploaded a recording of Wyatt Mason talking about Rimbaud. The event took place in November 2005, and the audio is here.

Wyatt is a contributing editor of Harper's where his essays regularly appear. He also writes for the New Yorker, the New Republic, and the London Review of Books. Modern Library has published, in three volumes, his translations of the complete works of Arthur Rimbaud. Translations of Dante's Vita Nuova and Montaigne's essays are in progress, as is his book of essays about American fiction.

Oh, yes, and I'm proud to say that Wyatt was once my student here at Penn.

(Here too the beginning of the recording is over-run by the intro music we used to use at the Writers House before programs began. Sorry about that. Be patient.)

funk talk

Naomi Beckwith considers funk a language. Listen to her 2005 talk, with lots of musical samples. (Don't be put off by the beginning of the recording; the music is too loud at first.) For more about Naomi and the program, click here.

elders and youngers

Belladonna Books has just published the fourth in a series called The Belladonna Elders Series, featuring Susan Bee, Marjorie Perloff and the late Emma Bee Bernstein (with an introduction by Johanna Drucker). You can buy a copy of the book here. This is Belladonna's bio on Emma:

Emma Bee Bernstein was born in 1985 and grew up on the upper west side of Manhattan. She graduated in June 2007 from the University of Chicago with a BA with honors in Visual Arts & Art History. She wrote her senior thesis on feminism and fashion in contemporary photography, and showed her Masquerade series as part of her senior thesis show. She also exhibited her photographs at A.I.R. Gallery in NYC, the Smart Museum in Chicago, and in numerous student exhibitions at the University of Chicago. She was featured in the New York Times for her work in Vita Excolatur, a University of Chicago erotica magazine and wrote an article on feminist art for M/E/A/N/I/N/G Online #4. Emma was the star of the film Emma's Dilemma, directed by Henry Hills, in which she interviews dozens of artists from the downtown NYC scene. She worked as a curatorial assistant in the Photography, Contemporary Art, and Prints & Drawings departments at the Art Institute of Chicago, at the Renaissance Society, and was a docent at the Smart Museum, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Brooklyn Museum. She worked as a Teaching Artist at the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago, and was an involved mentor and teacher for Step Up Women's Network. With Nona Willis Aronowitz, Emma conceived the GIRLdrive project: a cross-country trip to interview and photograph a multitude of diverse women, reflecting on the present state of feminism and social activism. GIRLdrive has a blog and is a forthcoming book from Seal Press. Emma died in December 2008 at the Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Venice, Italy, where she had an internship. Emma is survived by her parents Susan Bee and Charles Bernstein and her brother Felix.

Earlier related entries: 1 2

regarding and beholding

Each January, at our "Mind of Winter" event, I lead a communal interpretation of Wallace Stevens's "The Snow Man." This year we caught it on video, and here it is.

her Emily Dickinson

Charles Bernstein hosted the "Linebreak" radio series, which, in digital form, was originally presented in RealAudio format and then converted to mp3. (MP3 of course is PennSound's and many others' preferred format - downloadable, nonproprietary, free.)

In the spring of 1995, in New York, Charles conducted an interview with Susan Howe that has all along been my favorite of the Linebreak shows. We've now segmented it - by topic - and created what amounts to a table of contents. Above is a snapshot from the freshly revised Susan Howe PennSound page.

Ron Silliman reading at KWH earlier tonight

Ron read a sampling from the 1000-page The Alphabet, taking sections in (why not?) alphabetical order. He ended with a beautiful piece from VOG about Larry Eigner. I don't think I've ever heard him read so well. He was on.

Here's the video recording of the event.

when words peel away

Screen is a short video that shows the 3D-text-based, virtual reality experience of hypertext in a "CAVE" at the University of Iowa. Click here to watch the video.