Peter Moore
Nam June Paik performing "Violin with String" (1961) at the Twelfth Annual New York Avant Garde Festival, Floyd Bennett Field
New York, 1975
[x]
Nam June Paik performing "Violin with String" (1961) at the Twelfth Annual New York Avant Garde Festival, Floyd Bennett Field
New York, 1975
[x]
❤10🔥2
"La Pologne? La Pologne? Isn't it terribly cold there?" she asked, and then sighed with relief. So many countries have been turning up lately that the safest thing to talk about is climate.
"Madame," I want to reply, "my people's poets do all their writing in mittens. I don't mean to imply that they never remove them; they do, indeed, if the moon is warm enough. In stanzas composed of raucous whooping, for only such can drown the windstorms' constant roar, they glorify the simple lives of our walrus herders. Our Classicists engrave their odes with inky icicles on trampled snowdrifts.
The rest, our Decadents, bewail their fate with snowflakes instead of tears. He who wishes to drown himself must have an ax at hand to cut the ice. Oh, madame, dearest madame."
That's what I mean to say. But I've forgotten the word for walrus in French. And I'm not sure of icicle and ax.
"La Pologne? La Pologne? Isn't it terribly cold there?"
"Pas du tout, " I answer icily.”
Wisława Szymborska, Vocabulary, from Grain of Sand: Selected Poems, trans. Stanisław Barańczak, Clare Cavanagh
"Madame," I want to reply, "my people's poets do all their writing in mittens. I don't mean to imply that they never remove them; they do, indeed, if the moon is warm enough. In stanzas composed of raucous whooping, for only such can drown the windstorms' constant roar, they glorify the simple lives of our walrus herders. Our Classicists engrave their odes with inky icicles on trampled snowdrifts.
The rest, our Decadents, bewail their fate with snowflakes instead of tears. He who wishes to drown himself must have an ax at hand to cut the ice. Oh, madame, dearest madame."
That's what I mean to say. But I've forgotten the word for walrus in French. And I'm not sure of icicle and ax.
"La Pologne? La Pologne? Isn't it terribly cold there?"
"Pas du tout, " I answer icily.”
Wisława Szymborska, Vocabulary, from Grain of Sand: Selected Poems, trans. Stanisław Barańczak, Clare Cavanagh
❤7
David Bernstein
Pauline Oliveros in the studio at the San Francisco Tape Music Center with Buchla 100-series modular synthesizers
1966
[x]
Pauline Oliveros in the studio at the San Francisco Tape Music Center with Buchla 100-series modular synthesizers
1966
[x]
❤5
“Thinking is trying to think the unthinkable: thinking the thinkable is not worth the effort. Painting is trying to paint what you cannot paint and writing is writing what you cannot know before you have written: it is preknowing and not knowing, blindly, with words. It occurs at the point where blindness and light meet. Kafka says — one very small line lost in his writing — “to the depths, to the depths.”
— Hélène Cixous, Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing
— Hélène Cixous, Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing
❤4🔥2
“These dreams: what we are when we are no longer ourselves: our survivings. Prophets of our traces, of our ultimate metamorphoses. Self-portraits of our future phantoms.”
— Hélène Cixous, Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing
— Hélène Cixous, Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing
❤2👍2