“The truth is, I don’t believe all that much in writing. Starting with my own. Being a writer is pleasant—no, pleasant isn’t the word—it’s an activity that has its share of amusing moments, but I know of other things that are even more amusing, amusing in the same way that literature is for me. Holding up banks, for example. Or directing movies. Or being a gigolo. Or being a child again and playing on a more or less apocalyptic soccer team. Unfortunately, the child grows up, the bank robber is killed, the director runs out of money, the gigolo gets sick and then there’s no other choice but to write. For me, the word writing is the exact opposite of the word waiting. Instead of waiting, there is writing. Well, I’m probably wrong—it’s possible that writing is another form of waiting, of delaying things. I’d like to think otherwise.”
from interview in Bomb, 2002
Those who are following my year-long Russian lit journey might be interested to glance over at the BOMBlog, where Kevin Kinsella has an essay about the Russian Avant-Garde, particularly the photos of Aleksandr Rodchenko, whose portraits of Lilya Brik, Vladimir Mayakovsky, and Osip Brik have shifted through various meanings/uses: photographic evidence of the threesome’s close friendship, symbols of the Russian Avant-Garde movement, and state propaganda posters.