Brian Dillon on his Curiosity exhibition: “I think of essay writing as a kind of collage or curating of various kinds of knowledge, narrative, etc. One of the things that Cabinet does in its written contributions as well as its design, its curation of exhibitions, its presentation of images is to give this sense that the essay as a form has a material and curating element about it”. * Lee Rourke discusses Vulgar Things and Southend (audio). * Lee Rourke and Eimear McBride in conversation. * On Didier Bay’s photographic sociology of post-1968 Paris. * “The world needs its Artauds more than ever”: unhappy birthday, Antonin Artaud. * The art of distraction. * Creativity creep. * 50 years of Entertaining Mr Sloane. * Wonderful 60s snapshots of London. * The Bechers’ industrial photographs. * Paul Jasmin‘s photographs. * The history of Leica. * Updating Ways of Seeing. * Deleuze and Plato. * Kenneth Goldsmith interviewed by Sheila Heti. * Will Self in conversation with Will Self. * Shark reviewed. * Frank Auerbach, a painter’s painter. * On plotless novels. * When Ginsberg met Michaux. * Judith Wolfe on Heidegger‘s Black Notebooks. * Untranslatable words. * Conversations with Werner Herzog. * A celebration of Robert Walser. * “Full” by Robert Walser. * W. G. Sebald: a German genius in Britain. * The shock of the new (audio). * On Boyhood. * Why shorter can be better. * Douglas Coupland in London on 23 September. * Get Carter and the birth of British noir. * The art of spam in The Paris Review (my 2008 Guardian piece on spam lit is referenced). * Thomas Pynchon‘s script edits for The Simpsons. * Umberto Eco on Peanuts. * “Why I write” by Barry Hannah. * Nick Lezard reviews Boy About Town by Tony Fletcher (of Jamming fame). * Punk poster collection at Stanford. * Richard Hell and punk (audio). * Noise and power. * Are today’s intellectuals too obedient? * “The Adolescents” by Rachel Kushner. * Ben Lerner interviewed by Tao Lin: “…the nonfiction kid is waking up. And it’s my turn to change her”. * The New York Times on Ben Lerner‘s 10/04: “Formally “10:04” belongs to an emerging genre, the novel after Sebald, its 19th-century furniture of plot and character dissolved into a series of passages, held together by occasional photographs and a subjectivity that hovers close to (but is never quite identical with) the subjectivity of the writer. Its nearest relative is the work of Teju Cole, with whom Lerner shares an interest in art and the social fabric of cities. More confessional than Cole, it also shares much with Chris Kraus’s “I Love Dick” and Sheila Heti’s “How Should a Person Be,” and it is occasionally reminiscent of the work of Geoff Dyer, who will turn an essay on D. H. Lawrence or Tarkovsky into an occasion to dissect the oddities of his own personality”. * More here.
Two Clarice Lispector stories translated by Elizabeth Bishop. * Blake Butler on thirty years of Dalkey Archive. * Lars Iyer interviewed: “Black comedy, goes the definition, refuses to treat tragic materials tragically. It makes us laugh at tragic things. But I would go further, and say that black comedy refuses to treat comic materials solely comically, or satirical materials solely satirically“. * Beckett‘s role in the French Resistance. * Ben Lerner at the Met. * Brian Dillon on the prose of psychoanalysis: “The essay is a monologue pursued to the extent that we start to hear other voices, notice the undercurrents taking over”. * Tom McCarthy on cartography. * Tim Parks on reading upward and meditation. * Karl Whitney‘s Hidden City reviewed in the Telegraph (Karl is a former 3:AM editor and contributor). * On Ray Johnson. * Teju Cole: The Atlas of Affect. * Teju Cole, Tao Lin, and others on their Twitter use. * An interview with Robert Coover (video). * Geoff Dyer on the “Oh, shit!” moment. * Great interview with Lee Rourke. * Kazimir Malevich, the man who liberated painting. * Two stories by Diane Williams, followed by an interview. * Zadie Smith on JG Ballard’s Crash. * Kierkegaard and Regine Olsen. * Darran Anderson on experimental literature. * ‘Alt lit‘. * Jacques Rancière‘s lecture on cinema and the frontiers of art. * Detroit and art. * Viv Albertine. * Joanna Hogg at Artforum. * The all-American road trip. * On translating Raymond Roussel. * 11-year-old illustrates Infinite Jest using Lego. * Sean O’Hagan on Nick Cave. * The Paranoia Machine. * Scrapbooking. * Will Self talks about death (video). * Will Self: “I had planned to write Jaws without the shark”. * Shark reviewed. * Self on Orwell: “[A]ny insistence on a particular way of stating things is an ideological act, whether performed by George Orwell or the Ministry of Truth”. Will Self on the digital essay (audio). * Will Self and John Banville on Dubliners. * The battle for Ulysses. * Illustrating the impossible: Stephen Crowe. * Knausgaard, Lydia Davis, and Kraznahorkai on Bookworm. * Knausgaard on Ben Marcus (audio). * Knausgaard interview (video). * Arthur Symons‘s The Symbolist Movement in Literature. * Hugo Ball. * Tom Vague. * Hipster neighbourhoods. * Ten Parisian artists beyond the Périphérique. * On Leos Carax‘s Boy Meets Girl (1984). * Adrian West‘s superb piece on Edouard Levé. * Marie Laurencin. * In-flight science. * The fairy tale continues. * An interview with Paul Weller. * The cliché expert’s guide to the cinema by Gilbert Adair. * Richard Linklater‘s Boyhood. * Absolutely brilliant review of Boyhood by Peter Bradshaw: “In some ways, the movie invites us to see Mason from an estranged-dad’s-eye-view, alert to sudden little changes and leaps in height. As an unestranged dad myself, I scrutinised Coltrane at the beginning of each scene, fascinated and weirdly anxious to see if and how he’d grown. But the point is that all parents are estranged, continually and suddenly waking up to how their children are growing, progressively assuming the separateness and privacy of adulthood. Part of this film’s triumph is how it depicts the enigma of what Mason is thinking and feeling”. * Welcome again to the Pleasuredome. * DC punk history. * Would the real Francesca Woodman please stand up? * What kind of worker is a writer? * On paying writers.
Monoskop, the collaborative research platform for art history, culture and media technology, have recently published an expansive archive of over one hundred and fifty avant-garde and modernist magazines, all to enjoy online for free. Check them out here.
What is the relevance of avant-garde magazines printed on aging paper to a society which views the world in real time and through networked digital lenses? There are two common answers. Regardless of their age, the art they carry can be looked at anew since it is only its techniques that pale, and on the other hand, they provide us with a historical record of several generations of artists and writers. Although what strikes the eye first is a variety of their fabrics and of workings of the page, something estranged from the relentless linearity of digital bits and the UX of the glowing screen. Here, they also remind us that our lenses matter as well, their properties are variables.
3:AM Magazine’s SJ Fowler travels with his Enemies Project and other poets on a collaborative poetic voyage across Scotland, documented by Ross Sutherland.
The Enemies project: Auld Enemies was a transnational poetry collaboration where six poets worked in rolling paired to produce original works for readings across the breadth of Scotland and where in each event also featured numerous pairs of writers from the region, who also presented brand new poetry collaborations. Beginning on July 9th and finishing on July 27th, the project visited Dundee, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Lerwick and Kirkwall, before a wrapping up in London. Auld Enemies was a groundbreaking exploration of contemporary Scottish poetics through the potential of collaboration.
I’m delighted to join 3:AM Magazine as fiction editor.
3:AM was the first place to publish a piece of my writing. At the time I was working from a visual art background and it was – appropriately – a cutup. The magazine is a special place not only for new writers, but for more established authors looking to experiment in ways they might not be able to elsewhere.
It’s difficult to define submission guidelines when one of the things I’ll be looking for is something I’ve never seen. There are sensibilities I know I’ll recognise, as soon as I read them. I’m interested in work that is experimental, playful, serious; in work that pays close attention to form, and language, always in support of what the work is; in intelligent work that wears its learning lightly: to paraphrase Beckett on Joyce, writing that is not [only] about something; it is that something itself.
Read the guidelines below, and…
A few practical guidelines:
* Most pieces I publish will be under 2,500 words. Your work could be a standalone piece, or an extract from a larger work. It may be a lot shorter than 2,500 words. It might not look like ‘fiction’ at all.
* All submissions must be in English and previously unpublished online.
* I’m very interested in writing in translation, if you’re happy to sort out the rights and permissions. Translations should be accompanied by a copy of the original text. If you submit a translation, or a piece previously published in print (see the point immediately above), you must be able to secure a statement of permission from the original publisher, and/or writer.
* I’ll try to give you a yes or no within a month of your submission.
* I’m happy with simultaneous submissions, but please email me immediately if you decide to publish your piece elsewhere.
* Please put your name and the work’s title in your filename, as well as at the head of your piece.
* Please send me a very brief bio/cv. I’m as likely to publish unpublished as published writers, but, if you have published before, I’m interested in what, and where.
* Fiction submissions will close at 3am on 3rd September 2014. They will reopen again later in the year.
illustrations by Stephen Crowe for Finnegans Wake
Newly posted short by 3:AM contributor and film director John Rogers (@fugueur) on the Leytonstone Centre for Contemporary Art.
When human blood reacts with luminol, it lights up a ghostly blue. This reaction, most commonly used to detect whether violence has taken place at suspected crime scenes, combines the human and the chemical, it invokes violence and disposability but also transformation. THE LUMINOL REELS takes its imagery from pornography, Catholicism, and crime scene investigation to interrogate the violence done to women. It considers the ongoing brutality of the femicides in Ciudad Juarez and the institutional misogyny of the Catholic Church. Violence is intrinsically linked to location, and the shrines, quinceañera parties, holy communions, and seances of this book are all stained luminescent blue.
Laura Ellen Joyce‘s The Luminol Reels is forthcoming from Calamari Press; more info here.
On August 26 the ICA will screen 3:AM contributor John Rogers’ Make Your Own Damn Art, a study of Leytonstone’s most celebrated contemporary artist Bob and Roberta Smith.
This is preceded by an ‘Art Party’ event (and film screening) on August 21, featuring music from The Fucks (who appeared at our ‘Good Sex Prize awards’ at the Stuckism Gallery in 2004) and other programmed content related to the film’s satirical theme challenging the Education Secretary’s attacks on art teaching in British schools.
By Samuel Stolton, Editor
This summer’s reading pool, fattened by the inclusion of a number of works determined by my recent travels, has been disposed to a broad and expansive character. So much so, that I believe it to be may be one of my most nauseous reading lists, a dizzying circus-market of philosophy, anarchist theology, poetry and critical theory. Posited on the underside of my mind are the rots of Blago Blung Blago Bung, a collection of some of the founding texts of Dadaism, Hugo Ball’s Tenderenda the Fantast, Richard Huelsenbeck’s poetic fragmentations Fantastic Prayers, and Walter Serner’s Last Loosening – a manifesto of which provoked a symphony of voracious affrays when read at the Cabaret Voltaire in Zurich – needless to say my own venture to the venue this summer resulted in nothing more than the sight of proto-hipster baristas, ironic post-dada semiotics, overpriced coffee and sardonic monocles.
Zurich’s slap back into the 21st century was consequentially accompanied by a reading of Tiziana Terranova’s Network Culture: Politics for the Digital Age, a book I’ve been meaning to read for nearly ten years now, and such has satisfied my academic impulse for the time being. To calm such a brutal viaduct between academic political theory and fiction, a copy of Reza Negarestani’s Cyclonopedia: Complicity with Anonymous Materials presented itself as one of the most apt of suitors to such a segue. Hailed as of cardinal significance when tracing the contours of Iranian philosophical sci-fi horror, Negarestani’s narrative – an incestuous tribrid of hyper-occultist theological discourse, abstract demonology and geopolitical schizophrenia, provided me with an appropriate conduit from a certain Hegelian speculative logic into my next course of contemplation. That was to be attributed to Hegel’s The Encyclopedia of the Philosophical Sciences in Outline, originally published in 1817, that travelled with me on my journey to Heidelberg University in Baden-Württemberg, south-west Germany. Hegel penned this work for his students while an academic at the University, incredibly evident as such, as he unscrambles the oft distorted Hegelian storyboard to form a more widely accessible theorem.
The positing of a Dadaist bacterium in Zurich had left me with an appetite to be re-afflicted by abstractism. For this cause I turned to Yi Sang’s The Wings. Not much has been written about Korea’s most prominent Dadaist exponent, and the short stories in the collection as well as The Wings – Encounters and Departures and Deathly Child, can provide perhaps one of the most distinct insights into the troubled man. A master of autobiographical exploitation, Yi Sang mutates elements of his forlorn existence into a conceptual abjectionist narration, administering variants of his worldly experience as a means to prize into the public domain the ambiguous introspections of an schizotypalist bent on the pursuance of the absurd, the nonsensical chatterings of the midnight rambler, the lilt from the flirting shadow behind the curtain of solitude.
Travelling through the vineyards of Burgundy, I decided to further my Korean enterprise with a more modern title. For some reason the antithesis between the two polar industries of French Wine and Korean Literature appealed to me. Kim Hyesoon’s poetic collection, I’m OK, I’m Pig, catered for this want. The revolutionary twist in her postcolonial tongue is evident throughout the work, as is the brutal venture into body-politics and gender relations, that resists, as fellow south Korean poet Don Mee Choi observes, a feminism categorized by a passive and genteel taste, what is referred to as ‘yoryusi’. On the contrary, Hyesoon’s lexicon is a violent and uncompromising dialect, applying language as a means to subvert a traditionalist discourse taut to the pursuance of establishing patriarchal hierarchies and administering the stereotypical parameters of gender relations.
Later this month, I shall also compliment the summer’s poetic stock with two new titles from New Directions Books, A Musical Hell by Alejandra Pizarnik, and The Helens of Troy, NY by Bernadette Mayer. From one Bernadette to another, the Bernadette Corporation’s poetic elegy to New York City, The Complete Poem stitched a multifariously colourful drapery to dress in this summer (the metaphor not unfounded as the corporation is both an art and fashion collective). Their epic poem uprooting from the depths of the subways a patchwork of underground oratorios, a clandestine derive through the sullied words of the City, where ‘every day is a dirty secret you never speak of.’
Under the recommendation of a friend, I have also begun Jacques Ellul’s The Technological Society, originally published in French in 1954. A most prophetic title, preempting the metaphysical ascendancy of technology from the mere habitations of utility into the echelons of social governance. Ellul’s dialectic is one that becomes ever potent with age, a fine wine, apt as the commencement of this book paralleled with my departure from Mâcon’s vineyards.
Why are Animals Funny by the Everyday Analysis Collective concluded my summer reading thus far. A concise application of critical theory to an array of elemental quotidian productions, from mobile phone covers to Old Spice adverts to the death of James Gandolfini, the group bleed out radical perspectives from the body of popular culture and burn a philosopher’s fire from the residue – an insightful and astute blaze. I have followed the EDA Collective from the early blogging days, and Zero Books’ publication of their corpus has been a characteristically bold and bright move, I’m very much looking forward to volume two, it could very well be on next year’s summer reading list.