Month: February 2011
THE LAW IS MY SUPEREGO
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clever
I’ve said to a couple of friends recently that I feel as if I am living in the second half of Mulholland Drive.
I think that’s very clever, really.
Lemon Hound + Nada
I’ve also been writing poetry introductions: APPS/BERGVALL/CHILD
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The collection works as an argument for language as such—not for the incommunicability of language, but rather its hypostatic features. In other words (and we are lousy with words), its fundamentally fundamental nature, its capacity for scaffolding, its ability to wear a mask that masks nothing.
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ABIGAIL CHILD
Abigail Child is a media artist and writer whose original montage pushes the envelope of sound-image relations to make, in the words of LA Weekly “brilliant exciting work…a vibrant political filmmaking that’s attentive to form.” Winner of the Rome Prize, a Radcliffe Institute Fellowship, both Guggenheim and Fulbright Fellowships, as well as participating in two Whitney Biennials, 1989 and 1997, Child has had numerous retrospectives including the Buena Vista Center in San Francisco, Anthology Film Archive, Harvard Cinematheque, Reservoir-Switzerland and most recently at the Cinoteca in Rome. She is author of THIS IS CALLED MOVING: A Critical Poetics of Film (2005) as well as A Motive for Mayhem (1989), Mob (1996) and Scatter Matrix (1999) among others. She is currently completing two poetry manuscripts and editing a feature shot in Italy of the life of Percy and Mary Shelley, in the form of imaginary home movies. A book with interview and articles on her work, in both French and English, accompanied with a DVD, will be appearing in early 2011 out of MetisPresse, Geneva, Switzerland.
And now, with apologies to Dziga Vertov…
Along with her kino-eye, Abigail is keen of ear, She is a bi-sensual prestidigitator. She, a focusing device, shows you the language as only she can hear it. Now and forever, she frees herself of immobility, her words are in constant motion, she draws near, then away from them, she crawls under, she climbs onto them. With them, she moves apace with the muzzle of a galloping thought, she plunges full speed into a phrase, she outstrips running stanzas, she falls on her back, she ascends with an idea, she plunges and soars together with plunging and soaring bodies. Now she, a room of flickering sound, flings herself along the alphabet, maneuvering in the chaos of meaning, recording movement, starting with movements composed of the most complex combinations… Within the chaos of meanings, running past, away, running into and colliding – the words, all by themselves, pulse with life.
Listeners and viewers, please welcome the labile, plangent, friable, nacreous, lambent, sinewy, vibraphonic, syncopated, fricative, super-supraliminal Abigail Child.
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other things I’ve been doing besides being depressed
I get lax about cleaning things. I come home and think, wow, looks like some derelict who likes to play dress-up lives here. And then I think, looks like the cleaning lady hasn’t been here for a while. Then I remember, wait a minute, I’M the cleaning lady.
so tired. petting Nemo, petting Nemo, petting Nemo…
I was so very much in love. I can’t. believe. this.
“unmanly”