Her sculptures, to be exhibited at Art Miami, have a striking “innerness,” an interiority of gaze and stance, as well as a primal quality that seems a function of their feathery or furry surfaces. In all their variations, they express a human connection to animal origins.
Q&A with Lucy Glendinning
‘so unlike the realm of / love and ardor’
In a world of trouble
so unlike the realm of
love and ardor
the singularity of death
has come to this —
we shrink,
abandoned, into history. …
Once Again
Remembering the President of Soul
Someone on my staff of thousands reminded me of this blogpost and demanded that I repost it. Obedient to the call of the public, here ‘tiz …
Reading Hannah Arendt Puts Me in Awe
In an essay about Isak Dinesen, whose fiction was closely drawn from her life, Arendt writes …
Paul Valéry Reminds Us
‘A Poem Is Never Finished, Only Abandoned’
Mine have never been finished either. And so . . . an updated, revised, redesigned, and expanded collection in both hardcover and paperback editions is out now, with a new title: “All That Would Ever After Not Be Said.”
William Burroughs Reminds Us
‘The Rulers of This Most Insecure of All Worlds Are Rulers By Accident, Inept Frightened Pilots’
‘Not one-man rule or rule of aristocracy or plutocracy but a small group elevated to positions of power by random pressures and subject to political and economic factors that leave little room for decisions. They are representatives of abstract forces that reach power through surrender of self.’
The Uninhibited Bite of Dutch Mordant
With an artist as prolific and versatile as Gerard Bellaart, it is not easy to pinpoint his “style.” His paintings bring a dream world out of hiding. His drawings look spontaneous. But you can be sure they are supported by years of deep training. You can also be sure they are not “easy” viewing.
Remembering Diane di Prima
A memorial issue of the Swiss magazine Fabrikzeitung pays tribute to her poetry.
‘she whose face we have never seen
she whose body is a door to the world . . .
stars are the seed pearls she sets on her flesh
they are the milk of her breasts & the juice of her love
her orgasm shakes the dark worlds to their depths’ — DdP
‘A Low-Rent Shangri-La Beyond Borders’
‘As the steep streets bow to the river,
I have been falling through holes
for some months seeking a new underworld …’ — David Erdos
Permit Me a Moment to Bask in This Review
“This biography is truly exceptional in its prose and subject matter. If you are an avid movie fan, you’ll enjoy the wealth of information about a truly brilliant director. If you simply enjoy non-fiction material, this will be a great read as the writer presents a beautifully written story on so many levels. It’s the type of book you never want to finish.” — Hope Goldsmith
Scandalous Biographers and Their Publishers
Recent literary scandals raise difficult questions for authors, publishers, and readers. Do they have an obligation to consider a writer’s personal conduct when making decisions about whether to publish or buy a book—or do they have an obligation not to? Ruth Franklin in conversation with Laura Marsh, Tim Duggan, Katha Pollitt, and Ian Buruma.
Mustill Artworks Newly Archived at Emory University
Norman Ogue Mustill (1931-2013) was an American artist, who primarily used collage as his medium. He was born in Montreal, Canada and was educated at the Montreal Museum of Art and Ecole Des Beaux Artes. During the 1950s, Mustill lived in New York (New York), Los Angeles (California), and Mexico City (Mexico). He moved to San Francisco (California) in 1960, which led to collaboration with filmmakers, painters, and poets of the beat generation. Mustill was not interested in being a public figure and avoided the art world. He adopted the middle name “Ogue,” which he took from the fashion magazine Vogue to protest the fashionable.” — Stuart A. Rose Manuscript, Archives, and Rare Book Library
Mining the Archives
‘Un-American Express’ — It Never Happened
Speaking of literary archives, you never know what will turn up. This letter from a half-century ago, for instance: It was discovered the other day at Emory University about two literary projects, one of which came to fruition, while the other never did.
Beinecke’s Sweet Tweet
Lorraine Hansberry to Langston Hughes and His Reply
An eagle-eyed member of Straight Up’s staff of thousands, unpaid but indefatigable, noticed this exchange posted on Twitter by the Beinecke Rare Books and Manuscript Library at Yale University, and sent it along. Perhaps you saw it? If not . . .
A World of Trouble
Cityscape East River NYC (9-20-2021)
A pair of NYPD patrol boats were stationed in the East River at the approach to the 59th Street Bridge. Each was fitted out with a manned, high-caliber machine gun. There was no boat traffic as there usually is — no barges going upriver, no tug boats churning heavy wakes behind them, no sail boats moving lazily with the current, no speedboats — all apparently prohibited due to the opening session of the U.N. located nearby on the Manhattan bank of the river. Many streets in the surrounding neighborthood were cordoned corral-style into single-file walk lanes. Cops were everywhere, and life was calm and complacent and inconvenient in a world of trouble.
Ivan Turgenev on Aging
‘He Did Not Picture Life’s Sea as the Poets Depict It’
“He fell to thinking . . . slowly, listlessly, wrathfully. He thought of the vanity, the uselessness, the vulgar falsity of all things human. All the stages of man’s life passed in order before his mental gaze (he had himself lately reached his fifty-second year), and not one found grace in his eyes.” — Ivan Turgenev, from THE TORRENTS OF SPRING
Moloko to Publish Dutch Mordant
“All drawing from the imagination I’d consider a form of automatic drawing; if it exists, it will exist only for the first time. … I think [my images] arise from the instinctive tendency to not look for semblances or analogies. Meaning, to find all that happens in spite of me—imagination versus verisimilitude. One forever seems to be looking for a dimension not directly visible and through the technique at one’s disposal express the sensation that evokes.” — Gerard Bellaart