Plywood mural by Michael Hewson in Christchurch.
I’m looking forward to the “What [in the World] Was Postmodernism?” symposium, which will be taking place here at the University of Otago in Dunedin over the next three days. The symposium is convened by my colleague David Ciccoricco and includes keynote addresses by Simon During and Brian McHale.
I want belatedly to draw attention to the publication of “Asia in New Zealand Lives,” a special issue of the New Zealand Journal of Asian Studies, edited by Henry Johnson and myself, and to thank the contributors for their diverse and insightful essays on prominent New Zealanders, including Nancy Kwok-Goddard, Vic Percival, Anand Satyanand, and Edmund Hillary.
These essays help to complicate understandings of an increasingly diverse Aotearoa / New Zealand society, going beyond the population statistics that tend to dominate public discourse around multiculturalism in New Zealand. They offer a historically grounded and rich account of, in the words of our introduction, “the dynamic interactions among a web of different Asian cultures and traditions that have helped shape the lives of all New Zealanders.”
All articles in the issue are freely available for download here.
Contrary to the AWP’s statement regarding the removal of Vanessa Place from the AWP Los Angeles 2016 subcommittee, Place’s tweeting of Gone with the Wind is not “explained” in my pieces on Jacket2. (I cite but don’t discuss the twitter feed.) I do discuss other works by Place that draw on Gone with the Wind, but my commentaries are hardly an endorsement: “a performance of that racist ideology’s stifling of other voices” (http://jacket2.org/commentary/not-repeating-gone-wind); “a white author, repeating this caricatured imitation of black speech” (http://jacket2.org/commentary/whose-speech-who-speaks). Place’s Gone with the Wind work is about racism in US literature and society. But that doesn’t stop it from being racist and offensive. Those who defend Place miss the point. Place’s work rightly provokes outrage; it therefore also garners attention. The question is: is this attention to racism or to Place? (For a very smart analysis of race, social media, and the attention economy in the US today, see Justin Simien’s Dear White People.)
One of Dmitri Prigov’s Stikhogrammy (poemographs or versographs) about which I write in A Common Strangeness has been blown up to the size of a multistory apartment building as part of an art project in Belyaevo, an area in Moscow closely associated with the late artist and writer. You can view some great images of the resulting work here. I’ve blogged previously about Prigov’s series of concrete poems here and here.
Дмитрий Пригов, 18-я азбука: Камень и круги на воде (Dmitri Prigov, 18th Alphabet: Stone and Circles on Water), courtesy of the Centre for Artists’ Publications, Weserburg, Bremen and the Estate of Dmitri Prigov. Photograph by Bettina Brach.
Stone and Circles on Water (Камень и круги на воде) is the eighteenth in Dmitri Prigov’s series of poems built around the Russian alphabet, or azbuka, and the work that for me most clearly encapsulates Prigov’s “iterative poetics,” about which I’ve recently written in Russian Literature. I’m posting a photograph of the work here (courtesy of Bettina Brach and the Centre for Artists’ Publications, Weserburg, Bremen), along with an edited version of my remarks on the piece in the hope that this extraordinary work of art might reach a broader audience.
Prigov’s book describes and depicts a stone dropped into a pool. The book or work of art overlays five textual iterations, five carbon-copies––each with a circle of increasing diameter cut out––on top of the original typescript sheet, inverting their order so that the nearly illegible bottom layer precedes the others, while the original layer lies at the bottom and is visible only through the smallest hole at the centre––the point where the stone hits the water. Prigov thereby utilizes the samizdat mode of small-scale multi-copy reproduction as his mode of production. The samizdat mode of reproduction necessitates thin paper, which here allows the overlaid layers to show through each other, further adding to the smudged look of the text and so to the illusion of the blurring produced by a ripple passing over formerly smooth water. The stone’s trajectory is described by the vertical movement of the text down the page from a to ia (a to z). The text describes the stone striking the face of the water in the center before touching the bottom of the pool at the bottom of the page––a movement emphasized by the columns of alphabetically ordered initial letters and the “ėto” that follows in most lines (an effect made possible by the zero-kerning of the type-script medium). Just as the work gains power from the intersection of its inter-media iterations––at the point where the vertical axis of the text and the outward and circular axis of its visual appeal meet––so the moment of the stone’s impact becomes a metaphor for such intersections, a unique instant in time frozen between iterating movements and between the two-dimensional image and three-dimensional sculpture produced through the medium of the samizdat book.
You can now download in MP3 and MP4 formats the fourth and final talk delivered by the incomparable Haun Saussy as the as 2014 University of Otago De Carle Distinguished Lecturer. In “Compared to What?” Saussy argues that “comparative literature grew from interdisciplinarity in the late eighteenth/early nineteenth centuries, struggled to become an autonomous field and in the process lost its interdisciplinary dimensions, then has been recovering them on new bases, but in an academic environment that is slow to reward risk-taking, unlike the moment immediately after the French Revolution when the gesture of sweeping the slate clean and inventing new sciences came naturally to so many of our predecessors.” In the process, we learn what eighteenth-century comparative astronomy has to do with late-1960s popular music, and why Saussy is not a fan of world literature as a discipline.
I’ve been anything but quick in answering Katie Price’s “quick question” on Jacket2. Now, my response finally joins those of Amy Catanzano, Bob Perelman, and Brian M. Reed. Each of us was asked to write a 500-word response to the question: “What is at stake in/when defining poetry?” Many thanks to Katie Price for inviting me to join the conversation. I also recommend checking out the responses to her other quick questions, the second of which is: “What is the relationship between Conceptual art and conceptual writing?” For more on this question, look out for Postscript: Writing After Conceptual Art, edited by Andrea Andersson, and forthcoming from the University of Toronto Press (the book builds on the exhibition of the same name that originally opened at the MCA Denver in 2012 and that has since been touring).