“By falling asleep, I fall inside myself: from my exhaustion, from my boredom, from my exhausted pleasure or from my exhausting pain. I fall inside my own satiety as well as my own vacuity: I myself become the abyss and the plunge, the density of deep water and the descent of the drowned body sinking backward. I fall to where I am no longer separated from the world by a demarcation that still belongs to me all through my waking state and that I myself am, just as I am my skin and all my sense organs. I pass that line of distinction, I slip entire into the innermost and outermost part of myself, erasing the division between these two putative regions.”
— Jean-Luc Nancy, The Fall of Sleep, trans. by Charlotte Mandell
— Jean-Luc Nancy, The Fall of Sleep, trans. by Charlotte Mandell
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Norman McLaren
A Phantasy in Colors
1949
A Phantasy in Colors
1949
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wretched thou art wherever thou art
I sit and work on a line and lean into the pain my mind continues trying to think and all I come up with is a texture without ideas
and to whatever thou turnest —
the body I have is the body I once had but they could not differ more the teacher Agnes says abstract form holds meaning beyond words
I turn the pages of the old book
the way certain feelings come to us with no discernible worldly cause the teacher Buddha says the practitioner agitated by thoughts
I have not held since childhood
makes stronger their bondage to suffering and the sting of becoming during the time illness makes me feel most tied to the material world
— Brian Teare, an excerpt from When we are on the right track we are rewarded with joy
[x]
I sit and work on a line and lean into the pain my mind continues trying to think and all I come up with is a texture without ideas
and to whatever thou turnest —
the body I have is the body I once had but they could not differ more the teacher Agnes says abstract form holds meaning beyond words
I turn the pages of the old book
the way certain feelings come to us with no discernible worldly cause the teacher Buddha says the practitioner agitated by thoughts
I have not held since childhood
makes stronger their bondage to suffering and the sting of becoming during the time illness makes me feel most tied to the material world
— Brian Teare, an excerpt from When we are on the right track we are rewarded with joy
[x]
poets.org
When we are on the right track we are rewarded with joy
wretched thou art
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Ingeborg Bachmann, No Delicacies, trans. Margitt Lehbert, from Poetry (October 1998)
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“Although I'm only an amateur artist, I've enjoyed making pencil sketches all my life. I've dabbled in most of the media available before computers, and now with that, too. A few years ago I made these renderings of two of the fuzzy critters here, Pica, a chocolate-point Siamese, and Nago (her son), a seal-point. They were done with a medium lead pencil on bristol board. I've finally found some of my other drawings of the cats (hooray!), these drawn on high quality vellum, which I was trying out at the time. Below are two of them, pencil sketches of Pica ("Peek") curled against Subi, and one of Subi asleep alone. When I was recovering from the broken hip I got in our freak auto accident in 1982, our friend Carol Donner suggested I try drawing to occupy me when I could only sit or recline. Good ways to get the brain going again, too, and I thank her for her empathetic "therapy"”
— Wendy Carlos’s drawings from her personal website [x]
— Wendy Carlos’s drawings from her personal website [x]
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“I forgot
my body’s handwriting
my shoulders’ calligraphy and the contour of my laughter
I must be naked
I’ll go beneath the sun
beside the wind
I went on a trip
the Mediterranean laughed at me
it said
Why are you afraid of the water?
The Persian empire has fallen
we’ve agreed on summer
come, with old Phoenician mariners
we’ll go sailing”
Sara Mohammadi-Ardehali, Empire of Dust, from The Mirror of My Heart, Dick Davis
my body’s handwriting
my shoulders’ calligraphy and the contour of my laughter
I must be naked
I’ll go beneath the sun
beside the wind
I went on a trip
the Mediterranean laughed at me
it said
Why are you afraid of the water?
The Persian empire has fallen
we’ve agreed on summer
come, with old Phoenician mariners
we’ll go sailing”
Sara Mohammadi-Ardehali, Empire of Dust, from The Mirror of My Heart, Dick Davis
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