Alec Niedenthal—
Interesting post by Chris Heavener over at Annalemma on Thursday’s Rumpus/HTMLGiant (what did we do there?) event. Of principal interest is the dialogue in the comments section between Chris and Gigantic/Rumpus New York Editor Rozalia Jovanovick. I liked this event a lot. Especially the readings given by Justin (goddamn, that story he read is so good), Tao Lin, Stephen Elliott, and Deb Olin Unferth (which will apparently appear in this year’s NOON). Yep. Thanks to my mom for the tip–seriously, my mom told me about this on the way to dinner.
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The Duty of Harsh Criticism
For only through art can we cultivate annoyance with inessentials, powerful and exasperated reactions against ugliness, a ravenous appetite for beauty; and these are the true guardians of the soul.
– Rebecca West, “The Duty of Harsh Criticism”
More Money = Better Than
the most beautiful poem
I once talked to a graffiti artist who claimed that graffiti was the purest of all the arts because it couldn’t be sold. I said, what about guerilla art galleries? What about Bansky? He said that those things weren’t true graffiti, because true graffiti changes the moment you have the power to sell it. Kid tags rail cars in Oklahoma.
Couture, on the other side of the question; art designed with great profit in mind. Chanel director/designer Karl Lagerfeld recently tweeted, “Like poetry, fashion does not state anything. It merely suggests.” This might be true enough for fashion but it’s a fairly bullshit thing to say about poetry.
This is not to disparage graffiti or high fashion. Anything that can change the way I look at a brick wall or a human foot earns my respect. (It takes a lot, as I have set ways about walls and feet.) My question: How does art change when you decide you would like to try and use it to pay your electric bill? (How would the arts change if materials costs were flipped? $350 to use the word “love” but calfskin and emeralds are free?)
Alec Niedenthal—
Five Dials DFW tribute issue available online here. Subscribe here. Includes eulogies by George Saunders, Zadie Smith, and Don DeLillo, all of which are invaluable in one’s life. Watch Conan’s last night with The Tonight Show here. Listen to new Frightened Rabbit single here. Have a good weekend, wherever you are. I am in Alabama for a few days and it is a pretty sad place to be.
A CALL FOR APPLICATIONS
The Norman Mailer Writers Colony is pleased to announce its call for applications for the Second Annual Norman Mailer Writers Colony Fellowships at Provincetown, MA.
The Mailer Fellows have been created to honor Norman Mailer’s contributions to American culture and letters and to nurture future generations of writers. In 2009 seven Fellows spent four weeks in Provincetown, Massachusetts where they wrote, discussed their work, and were visited by writers such as Don DeLillo; editors and writers from leading publications such as the New York Review of Books and Vanity Fair.
Fiction and non-fiction writers can apply for a 28-day residency in Provincetown, Massachusetts, near Mailer’s home beginning July 5, 2010. Once again, seven Fellows will be selected. In addition, as many as 66 applicants will be offered scholarships to one week writing workshops in Provincetown during May, June, August and September, 2010. Information about the Fellowships, including an application, can be found at – http://www.nmwcolony.org/curriculumPrograms/overview/.
Applications must be received by March 13, 2009.
Literary Doppelgangers
Matthew Simmons and Eddie Vedder are from Seattle. They are both musicians, pro-choice, and own the album Ten. Matthew Simmons, when he was in high school, identified with Jeremy, the protagonist in the song “Jeremy.” When Matthew told his mom he wanted to shoot himself in front of his class, she said “that’s a banana, dear.” Matthew Simmons’ tongue is not as long as Gene Simmons’, and neither will his career be. (Ouch.) When Pearl Jam was on SNL with Sharon Stone, Eddie professed to smelling her garments in the dressing room. I remember thinking “go pervs!” When I read Matthew Simmons’ posts here, I think “insane is okay.” Thank you Matthew Simmons for being you. I can mail you some unwashed articles for you to sniff. My B.O. Boxers in your P.O. Box — get it? Moron.
New from Willows Wept Press
![[American+Gymnopedies.jpg]](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0GOCs2pTUqk/S1csAmq9lhI/AAAAAAAABfw/wr-jX1pcw-g/s1600/American%2BGymnopedies.jpg)
You can preorder Scott Garson‘s American Gymnopédies from Willows Wept Press. Apparently, there are only 28 copies left. I think some of these pieces in the book appeared in Unsaid and The Collagist and elsewhere. Go to The Collagist to read a few. Go also to ArtVoice to read one. And, over at Garson’s Fictionaut page is “Houston Gymnopédie” and “D.C. Gymnopédie,” which shortly afterward appeared in Sojourn: A Journal of the Arts.
Sometimes the streets of Houston do stink, I must admit, and one of my favorite things about D.C. is the way it appears on a map.
It is Friday: Go Right Ahead.
I spent whole summers at Neauphle alone except for drink.
I don’t know the medical term for it.
Alcohol was invented to help us bear the void in the universe–the motion of the planets, the imperturbable wheeling through space, their silent indifference to the place of our pain.
I used to work out systems for doing the same as everyone else.
Alcohol’s job is to replace creation.
But alcohol can’t produce anything that lasts. It’s just wind.
We live in a world paralyzed with principles.
I’d forgotten how to walk.
Nor is there any consolation for stopping drinking.
Literary Dopplegangers
Justin Taylor and Priestess singer/guitarist Mikey Heppner
Gain some weight. Grow your hair out. Off you go.
(Jimmy Chen blackmailed me into putting this up. Sooooo:
Berobed Jimmy Chen and berobed rapping Buddhist monk Mr. Happiness
Gain some weight. Keep your hair short. Off you go.)
Additional material after the cut. READ MORE >
