Two guttering candles:
Donatello balances their light
in the outstretched palms of a madonna;
finished for the night he
knots his thick hands before his face
and leans against a wall.
His apprentices sleep
in flea-infested straw;
dull chisels gather an ooze
of shadows; mallets
rest on square heads….
Donatello grips one in his fist & lifts,
the only raw figure
in a room of stinkless Davids,
sinless Magdalenes.
Outside his shop a cat laps
a pool of blood; children rifle
the dead man’s purse for gold;
a bawd’s kiss flashes in moonlight
while rats leap from sill to sill.
Donatello roughs out a smile
using a tiny chisel like a quill;
his fingertips relax over an angel’s face,
and he yawns, knowing that his work is good.
for her beautiful “Lilacs Wilting on Nancy’s Bonnet,”–a Cherokee narrative from Blue Begonia Press. Barabara’s book is a low-keyed collection of poems about her family that gives one the impression of an evening spent pleasantly in a small, plain room listening to a great story teller. The pictures knit the collection together, but the most telling is of Barbara herself.
I often retire in the early hours of the morning listening to Art Bell’s Coast to Coast on headphones. Last night I fell asleep right before Rupert Sheldrake, a New-Age thinker who is more a poet than a scientist, came on as the featured guest. I did, however, wake long enough to hear of Sheldrake’s latest on-line “experiment,” before clucking my tongue in disgust and falling asleep again. Here it is, folks–and you may try it out yourself by going to Sheldrake’s website:
Photo Telepathy Test
Can you tell when someone is looking at your photo?
If someone looks at your photograph and thinks about you, can you feel it?
Find out by trying the photo telepathy test
Is this scientific thinking? No, I’d aver that it smacks of the kind of thinking done by 16th century savants, such as Cornelius Agrippa and the like. In fact, I’ve just been reading about Paracelsus’ weapon salve, which works on a similar principal, I believe, although Sheldrake will gussy it up by talk of “morphic fields.”
Truly, Rupert Sheldrake has gone off the deep end this time.
by Philip Ball. So far I’ve learned that the arquebus of the early 16th century was called the “alchemist’s weapon” because of its use of metals, black powder, and fire. Good stuff.
Cecil Touchon has kindly curated a show devoted to typical and untypical visual poetry by members of the Spidertangle group. It’s nicely done with interesting work from Kathy Ernst, Cecil himself, Jukka-Pekka Kervinen, Nico Vassilakis, Geof Huth (who gives us a colorful example), David Baptist Chirot (who’s a bit obvious in his atypical selection), Miekal And, whose alphabet written after too many cups of coffee is a favorite, and others. Many folks didn’t show: Bob Grumman of the Grukucrew (a small group of creators who persist in wrongfully bestowing variations of the word haiku on texts and vispo) didn’t favor us with a selection because, as he indicated in a note, he doesn’t do atypical work. Carlos Luis didn’t make it, and is missed, because he truly is one of the best of the bunch. I believe Cecil indicated that he is still open for submissions so perhaps more folks will participate. Here’s the link.
The moving hand, having writ, moves on… So it seems on the cutting edge of the art world, but wait a minute: what about the latest Turner prize? Wasn’t it given to a competent painter, whose works refer back to the visual constructions of the 1940’s and earlier? Many of the critics said that this was indeed the safe choice, and one that came after Tracy Emin’s messy bed, blinking flashbulbs, elephant dung-spattered icons, etc. etc. There was a bit of a feeling of…relief. Cecil Touchon, the talented collagist and painter now has a picture under discussion on Spidertangle which he calls Suprematist. It also harkens back to the heroic times when artistic ISMS actually meant something. Not now, of course, when the only ism applicable to such exercises in nostalgia is “mannerism.”
Cecil’s picture is handsome and I can well imagine that it will find a place in a hotel lobby or a corporate meeting room, but where exactly does it fit in our culture–what is its real value?
I like what he had to say about how publisher’s should not fear the internet as a threat to print publications, but view them, rather, as a complement. He contends that publishers and authors who make publications available online (Ahadada, for instance, and its authors), are best poised to reap its rewards.
He contends that we (publishers, authors, readers) all win from online publishing, and that online publishing is an integral part of the ongoing viability of the creative process. It is a “vast, cheap new system of publicity generation� that will help to sell more paper books at a time when fewer and fewer people buy them. It is, in effect, a manner by which to grow one’s readership.
Imagine two kids, each with their own drink stands on a hot July day. One is selling distilled water in those tiny paper Dixie cups your dentist uses for a buck a cup. That’s print publication; it ensures quality, but leaves too much control in the hands of the publisher and limits audience growth.
The other kid will let you drink for free full-blast from the nozzle of the firehose that she’s hauled out the window of the school next door. That’s unrestricted digital publication, which gives you more than you can possibly use, with no guarantee of quality and no obvious revenue stream. For those committed to the idea of becoming or remaining a professional writer or publisher, the Creative Commons hybrid approach to publishing is the best compromise between two equally untenable approaches to handling content. What writers and publishers need to realize is that the internet isn’t a threat to or a substitute for print, but a complement to it. But in order to reap its rewards, everyone is going to have to unclench a little.
So, it’s up to independent publishers to strike a compromise. We’ve got to figure out a way of getting those dixie cups in the hands of a thirsty audience without losing our grip on the firehose!
2/5/82. Saw Helen Adam give a wonderful performance at Woodland Pattern. She is a remarkable being and indeed a true visionary poet! One could almost imagine Blake singing his Songs of Innocence & Experience in the same manner. I asked her if she practiced the Craft [witchcraft] & she said she had read many books on it, and smiled and smiled, which I take to mean yes. She was a small, bird-like lady with a slight accent, who pronounced her words in an unusual manner: for instance “with” would be “wif,” etc. James Liddy was there with friends. A packed house.
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