Dockers and rockers
The annual East End Film Festival takes place later this month. Opening night is taken up with a special screening of Bronco Bullfrog (1969), ahead of its BFI Flipside showing and DVD release in June. Director Barney Platts-Mills‘ steer was to “take a neighbourhood and make a film to represent or reflect that place by […]
Maintenant #9 – Mária Ridzoňová FerenÄuhová
I always thought I was rather receptive to the artificial elements of the world: the urban landscapes, traces of human impact on the Earth, concepts and constructions, literature and architecture, the concrete (or the glass, the steel) versus the abstract… But nature and culture are in fact inseparable — human behaviour and activities are deeply rooted in nature. My poetry is not only intellectual (even if the cold intellectualism was the main reproach the Slovak critics made to my first book), all those natural elements surround it and make it universally comprehensible. There is no need to read Foucault or Deleuze to observe the grey soil or a dead cat under a tree, and to receive it…
In the ninth of his Maintenant series, SJ Fowler interviews the Slovak poet Mária Ridzoňová FerenÄuhová.
Four Poems
Summer never leaves, remaining like an inflammation on breathed-out ways
Warm stone, not a trace of footsteps (damp air regardless);
Wounds don‘t heal, the same movement every afternoon — wiping off with its hand
Dust from the eyes and oil from heated up wheels. October.
Not even return: lasting in cracks, the city doesn’t remember,
nor want you: numb feet, cracked hands, why not admit —
straight, passage, from around the corner instead of (a certain) memory emerges
A street. Another one. The same.
And a madman on the platform, completely derelict
(nobody scares him anymore), change-over station R éaumur-S ébastopol…
By Mária Ridzoňová FerenÄuhová.