Pessi Parviainen is calling for notes for a composition. He's making a piece of music by asking people to donate one note, one resonating note per person...
Please specify the note, the octave, and duration. Parviainen will place the notes one after each other in the order of their arrival (email time & date). You can also choose to group the note with the previous or the next note, in which case these notes will be played simultaneously in the resulting piece. All note-donors will be cited as co-composers.
The Univalve Orchestra will perform the resulting piece. Their next concert will most likely occur late 2005 in Helsinki, Finland.
Thom Gunn was one heck of a poet (I'm reading, re-reading, bleeding over, Night Sweats now), one whom I didn't apprecitate, alas, until after his death one year ago. Check out this article in the San Francisco Chronicle, part two on Gunn's life and work. Perhaps more focused on the tantalizing sweep and swoop of his party life -- the man was clearly an adept, indefatigable sensualist -- the article points to a man, a sensibility, hungry for more, for ALL. Can't fault the attempt, the intention.
I was one of two-three thousand people to hear Noam Chomsky speak at Washington State University today. Those attendance numbers are encouraging. Adding up Pullman’s population to Moscow, Idaho’s (eight miles to the east), the two-three thousand were pulled out of a population base of about 50,000, on a Friday afternoon, on the warmest day of the year, the week before dead week…
Chomsky stayed on message, one he’s been delivering for decades. His one-hour talk focused on three crises for the United States (and thus the world) in this new century: the environment, the threat of nuclear weapons, and the democratic deficit. Later, as I sipped a cool stout on our sunny deck, pondering the latter, I wasn’t surprised to see Walt Whitman sitting across the table from me. Here’re notes on some of our thoughts:
democratic vistas to democratic deficits
the power in ourselves to the power of the few
“full play for human nature to expand itself in numberless and even conflicting directions” to “you’re either with us or against us”
creativity versus manipulation
bardic yawp to separation of voice/s
“an infinite number of currents and forces, and contributions, and temperatures, and cross purposes, whose ceaseless play of counterpart upon counterpart brings constant restoration and vitality” to constriction, monopoly, one way
nurture versus neuter
“For our New World I consider far less important for what it has done, or what it is, than for results to come” to wield as much force as we can now without considerations of its future effects
we write history to doctrinal institutions excising our story
Then it was time to get dinner together. Walt and I went to the market, looking for Allen Ginsberg in the produce section. We found him fondling eggplant. It was difficult to get back on topic after that.
La Biennale di Venezia - Visual Arts - 51st Edition Isola della Poesia / Poetry Island
Curator: ACHILLE BONITO OLIVA Art Work, Installation on San Secondo Island, and Project: MARCO NEREO ROTELLI Virtual Island: CATERINA DAVINIO In collaboration with: Karenina.it, La Repubblica Arte, Paolo Vagheggi,
FLOATING RAFT ON THE SEA: event with Achille Bonito Oliva, on June 9th
THE NIGHT OF POETS: Venice given to poetry in the most beautiful palaces and parks, with great international poets.
If you know Nico Vassilakis’ work, you’re aware of the voluminous thought behind each phrase he puts on the page, behind the choices he makes to raise a voice in the wilderness, each phrase constructing psychological/logical bodies – language/mind made out of the mad/e… (If you don’t know his work, shame on you!) His process, the progress of his thought as revealed through the medium of writing, thought progressing on its own terms, is apparent in the media of film, in Concrete: Movies.
As I said earlier I’ve replayed/re-read “Color” again and again. I can’t get beyond its beyond. I’m trying to wrap my own thoughts around that thirteen minute poem at the same time I’m resisting such a wrap/warp. I want to give in, to give it, to give, the movie, the moving, the poem after all, all my attention. I’ve watched "Color" enough its filmic synapses have become my synaptic films. My last image won’t be of Rosebud but the black “ it ” swimming in lime green in the upper-right corner of my dying.
Vassilakis makes clear choices. One of the most interesting choices he has made in these movies is to run them without a soundtrack (our thoughts, after all, rise in silence). In 2005, how many of us watch film without a soundtrack manipulating our thoughts, plinking our heart strings? You’ve got to take the images in these movies on their own, on your own – the director’s not directing – constricting! – you. These five movies follow other film expectations – framed shots, shifts of “characters” within the frames, sequence of events, interaction/inter-intra-reference between present and previous events, duration of shots, coloring (cinematography) – while exploding them.
To highlight this work, opposition between medium and idea, idiom and media, I want to schedule a showing of “Color” projected against the Hollywood sign on Mount Lee. I’d serve a healthy helping of popcorn mixed with clippings of foam rubber to jar those who might not be capable of tasting what they are tasting, seeing what they are seeing...
"No, really, how old are you? When were you born?"
"I was born in time. I occupy space. Sometimes I seize it. When I was born, a chronological accident, seems like the least interesting thing about me. You might as well ask me my social security number.
"Why don't you ask me instead what do I do with my utmost energy? What are my neccessities, my passions?
"Ask me what I've done. Ask me why I've done it. Ask me what I'll do next and why. Ask me -- a construct, me/sea, a wide-open point on a moving map -- not when, an oppressively specific pin-prick of time beyond my control (but not my ken), but how, why, for whom, what..."
Check out Mr. Beckett's latest interview with Eileen Tabios at e-x-c-h-a-n-g-e-v-a-l-u-e-s. Once again he gets the poet to articulate the heart of their poem's heart:
TB: Hmm…Let me ask then, what sense of "limits" or of "boundaries" or "frontiers" do you bring to a poem?
ET: I don’t bring any such limits to the poem. The poem directs me as to those and other matters. The poem determines its self.
I’m not trying to be flakey here; it’s just that, for example, at the time that I am writing a poem, I feel a sense of underlying energy (which may be fueled by how the words I’m using resonate with me). So, the poem ceases (its text) when I feel that energy die out.
If you're on the west side, in Seattle, find it at Elliott Bay Books, Open Books, Wall of Sound, Art Books Press
or contact Nico via 3046 61st Ave SW Seattle, WA 98116
A few review copies are available.
I've "read" the first three so far, spending the most time with the second movie, "colors." Watch it in the dark, if you can. Its coloring sublime, it works subliminally. Watch it through open eyes but make sure to shut your eyes tight every now and then and watch it on the back of your eyelids. I'm going to watch it tonight before sleep, see what it has to say in my dreams.