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Saturday, October 05, 2002 S e n s o r y O v e r l o a d -- ‘Everybody gets so much information all day long that they lose their common sense’ -Gertrude Stein- -The Very Big Stupid is a thing which breeds by eating The Future. Have you seen it? It sometimes disguises itself as a good-looking quarterly bottom line, derived by closing the R&D department’ -Frank Zappa- ‘The electronic world has margins everywhere and centers nowhere, look for the colors that pop up unexpectedly on the peripheries. They’re the future’ -Marshall McLuhan- -- -POEM FOR THE BEAUTY OF SLASH//- -- ORDER K12045/ALICE HAS A HOUSE ON KALIHI STREET/PICK UP THE ANAGRAM/ PATRIARCHY WEEPS/CLAUSE [7] CREATES A THRONG/>INIT>ROOT NYMPHENBURG/SLIGHT SHAKBALT-NEGRINE/WAVELENGTH/7-8-/ NO EXPENDITURES>GOES CONTINENTAL/SHED VLSI/CUSTOMIZE THE [9] DIAL/THE GOLDEN RANGER KEEPS [v] PRISTINE/BROKEN 1-500/TICK_D-SHAMAN/DIRECT TO CELLULAR>>0800-5678340/TEACH NEWLYWEDS-CHECK DIGITAL WALLETS/PHANTOM-BRANDS_PUSH SHIRA-MAGNET/SINGLESOURCE –PATH/FLIGHT OF THE TEENAGE POP-TOP/DISCOUNT HOUSE/XENIA-1/2/F LIES/WE EXPECT/A DIFFERENT OUTCOME//NANCY MARRIES THE [CAN-DO] GENIUS RIMBAUD/HACKER EXTRAORDINAIRE=[END] A SNITCH COPIED THE DISK..// SPA-MEMBER ONSET-MOT[=] HDC451/-00894R/OXYGEN PERFORMS BEAUTIFULLY/EXCEPTION—LINE-45088[GLITTER=GONE PERMANENTLY=APPLAUSE-CARDS*BREAK*//THE NYC GUY WILL>HELP TO INSTALL))—CABLE INTERFERENCE>> © Walter van Lotringen 2002 -- posted by Walter at 10/05/2002  'A latter day Socrates' -- -A eyewitness account of a speech by Cornel West, self confessed ‘Prisoner of Hope’- ‘Cornel West gripped the podium, knit his face into a fierce scowl, and let his voice rise to a bellow then fall to a whisper. On stage at the Salomon Center on December 12, the grandson of a Baptist minister resembled a preacher in his pulpit, leading the congregation to ultimate truth. When he finished speaking, listeners reached out to shake his hand as if he possessed a healing touch.’ -- Cornel West, the Afro-American maverick professor, best selling author (‘Race Matters’- Beacon Press 1993, nearly 400.000 copies sold) and activist, has supplied ample grit for controversy and euforia in the US academic world. West, a charismatic teacher of Afro-American Studies and the Philosophy of Religion, and one of the most publicized minds in the US today left Harvard University, after a conflict with Lawrence Summers, previously Treasury Secretary in the final days of the Clinton Administration, and newly appointed President of Harvard University. The dispute between Summers and West was started after Summers upbraided West over his supporting role in the Reverend Al Sharpton’s forthcoming presidential campaign. West considered remarks made by Summers as ‘An assault on my integrity ‘ In the ‘Tavis Smiley Show’ a magazine on National Public Radio, he said of the confrontation: ‘In my 26 years of teaching this is unprecedented for me, I've never been attacked or insulted in that particular way.’ West, the mentor and provocateur, procures another twist in his multi-faceted personality on the CD ‘Scetches of my Culture’ featuring prominently on his website. -- ‘The Past is a prologue to your Future’ Cornel West, from the CD ‘Scetches of my Culture’ a joint production by Dr. Cornel West, Derek 'D.O.A.' Allen, Clifton West, and Mike Dailey. 4BMWMB, Inc. - 4 Black Men Who Mean Business, Inc. – -In all modesty, this project constitutes a watershed moment in musical history. The combination of the oratorical passion and unmatched eloquence of Dr. Cornel West with the particular musical genius of Derek D.O.A.Allen has produced an auditory theatrical experience. Sketches of my Culture succeeds at rendering a poignant yet inviting depiction of the African American experience that begins with the rich African heritage to and through the black American experience. It provides a glimpse into some multi-faceted dimensions and faces of an often maligned culture born out of wretched circumstances. Sketches of my Culture gives tribute to the preservation, persistence, and prevailing of our foremothers and forefathers. It pays homage to the sacrifices made by our fallen leaders as well as to those freedom fighters of all colors. It achieves this through chronicling, celebrating, and honoring the music that has sustained black people throughout this pernicious journey. It is through the marriage of the talents and passion of these two geniuses as well as the writing talents of Mike Dailey and Clifton West that this masterpiece is born. What you will experience here is an invitation to take an educational journey through the traditional African American medium--music. A nourishing inspirational story that must be told to every generation for fear of being forgotten and replaced with a 'safe' place of comfortable illusions. One that transcends legitimate bitterness and rage to arrive at an elevated place where the view is clearer and possibilities more attainable.- -Cornel West- Samples of the CD are available on http://www.cornelwest.com -- Return of the prodigal son ‘I am excited to return to the greatest center for humanistic studies in the country," West said. "I look forward to being a part of President Tilghman's vision that promotes high quality intellectual conversation mediated with respect."Writer Toni Morrison, the Robert F. Goheen Professor in the Humanities, said: "Depth, precision and fervor have always characterized Cornel West's work as well as his teaching. Princeton is extremely fortunate in securing him --again.’ Source: http://www.princeton.edu/pr/news/02/q2/0412-cwest.htm -- ‘New start after the storm’ Princeton New Jersey- Cornel West hurried into the seminar room with a fat volume of Plato tucked under his arm, nodded to the students and without ceremony started to talk about Plato and his mentor, Socrates. He leaned forward, as if to share a secret, and in a voice no louder than a whisper explained that Socrates had decided to leave his father’s craft of stonemasonry to become ‘a sculptor of men and women.’ ‘Socrates said he wanted to be a midwife of ideas,’ West said ‘he wanted to create perplexity.’ He was talking about someone who lived 2,300 years ago, but he might have been talking about himself. Since he was 15, and stumbled on Kierkegaard in a bookmobile in Sacramento, California, West has been drawn to the world of ideas. For the last eight years, he expounded on those ideas at Harvard. This summer, after a much-publicized dispute with Harvards’s president, Lawrence Summers, he moved to Princeton, where he’s teaching a graduate course and a freshman seminar called ‘The tragic, the Comic and the Political’ an exploration of evil as seen through the voices of philosophers, poets and dramatic artists. The seminar quickly became one of the hottest offerings in the catalogue of freshman seminars; more then 100 students applied for 15 seats. At Harvard, West had a reputation as a mesmerizing teacher, a feat recounted at Princeton as one of the students Andrew Matthews, remarked after just two classes: ‘When I step into his classroom and take my seat, I feel as though I am sitting at a table with Socrates himself.’ -From a report by Karen W.Arenson- NYT- -- posted by Walter at 10/04/2002 Thursday, October 03, 2002 An alphabet of Myth -- Everything about Mexican painter Laura Hernandez is big. Her physical posture, the vibrancy of her Frida Kahloesque attire, her ecstatic smile that beams at any occasion, and the all-conquering bear-hug that she reserves for her closest friends, in particular. It’s been 9 years ago since I met Laura, a native of Oaxaca and her 'cosmopolitan' daughter Sabina, then 8 years old. My brother had offered to serve as her Dutch liaison after being introduced to her at a party in the Mexican Embassy in the Netherlands. The four of us first met during dinner at a Chinese restaurant in Amsterdam, and have struck a lasting friendship since. On and off for a period of five years Laura settled in Amsterdam and Germany, preparing and completing work for a major show at the Museum Bochum in 1997. Her enormous project, called ‘Omnia’, is an installation and evocation of Laura’s personal legend of the Cosmos, and the realm of Myth and Dreams. Comprised of large and small paintings, a ‘graveyard’ of clay skulls, and huge paper sculpture heads, partly made by Oaxacan artists, this project required ample studio space, a liberal visa policy, and ready friends and acquaintances willing to lend a helping hand. Laura Hernandez exemplifies in person, the skill of Mexican art and craft, expressed on one hand by her mystical and poetic narrative and choice of subjects, and on the other by the sheer scale and mastery of her painting and sculpture. Her art bears an essentially ethnic and figurative fingerprint, deeply rooted in folklore, richly textured by symbols and metaphor, eloguently confronting Western conceptual art. Her larger than life personality is built around a savvy deployment of theatrics; an astute sense of building global alliances, and a cunning exploitation of her physical likeness to renowned Mexican painter Frida Kahlo. Most of all however, she owes a substantial part of her success to her daughter and ‘Svengali’ Sabina, ready consort and talisman on her many travels. Presently Laura is back in Oaxaca working on a new exhibition, provisionally called ‘Yolotl Ludica’, the concept of which is loosely based on installations of life size wooden toys, that will be combined with stage lighting effects, engineered by a Dutch inventor and lighting designer. For an introduction to Laura Hernandez: http://artscenecal.com/ArticlesFile/Archive/Articles1998/Articles1198/LHernandezA.html http://www.molaa.com/exhibits/omnia/omnia.htm -- By occasion of Laura’s and Sabina’s return to Mexico I wrote this poem, a cameo of their travails -- -Loot- Who owns ideas? Welcome to the weird and wonderful world of Lollipop-Cupcake and the Flick-Chick Sit back, relax, and absorb the atmosphere Prepare for a pitch in all-terrain and Sort out the scare of London, Frisco and Bombay Travelling, yet not moving In the company of high-riders on an immaculate edge Born from the fringes of Mexico’s economy, society and politics We watch them kiss the sky And embrace the sunshine underground Now ask yourself, if push comes to punch Would you fight for your rights? On the dark side of the Valley, life is full of compromise But this is not one of them ‘God, I’m a compulsive performer’ she says ‘But I’m never afraid to explore’ ‘I pinned my hopes on expansion, and alliances turned messy’ ‘I need the side-effects of fortitude’ ‘I yearn for this break for love’ © Walter van Lotringen 2002 -- posted by Walter at 10/03/2002 Tuesday, October 01, 2002 ‘This award is only mine in trust’ ‘Movies and I don't agree chronologically. In Oxford there is one show at seven o'clock, and the town goes to bed at nine-thirty. It's not that I don't like the movies, but my life just isn't regulated that way.—‘ -William Faulkner- -- ‘Faulkner…worked on a script for me once but I never thought for a moment that he had the slightiest interest in either that script or anything else in Hollywood. A director named Howard Hawks kept bringing him out there for reasons that I can only guess at. It may be that he simply wanted his name attached to Faulkner’s. Or since Hawks liked to write it was easy to do it with Faulkner, for Bill didn’t care one way or the other…’ Nunnally Johnson – screenwriter and producer- to Tom Dardis –November 1974- ‘Between the 40s and 50s there were 104 writers under contract at paramount at the same time. There was a Writers Building, a Writers Annex Building, and a Writers Annex A n n e x Building. There were many scripts that were never made, you know. Finished but they were never made. We made 50 pictures a year then. But we wrote 150.’ Billy Wilder in an interview with Cameron Crowe –Vanity Fair 1999- -- Faulkner, mentioned in my previous post worked intermittently as a Hollywood screenwriter. All in all accumulating to 4 years, spent between 1932 till 1955. His best known-(shared with Jules Furthman and Leigh Brackett) screenwriting was undertaken on Howard Hawks’ feature ‘The Big Sleep’ (1946) based on Raymond Chandler’s crime novel, starring Humphrey Bogart as Philip Marlowe. Most of Faulkner’s screenwriting efforts were undertaken for Hawks’ vehicles, among others for Ernest Hemingway’s ‘To Have and to Have not’ in 1944, credits of which he shared with Jules Furthman. Faulkner was an introvert and modest personality who eschewed formality. He once remarked ‘I am just a farmer who likes to tell stories’. Browsing through the records of his life one perceives a unicorn roaming in a personal labyrinth, reluctant to dwell in the limelight. Two sites may offer testimony to that assumption- -- -Faulkner's complex plots and narrative style demanded much of his readers and alienated many of them. To create a mood, he would often let one of his complex, convoluted sentences run on for more than a page. He juggled time, spliced narratives, experimented with multiple narrators, and interrupted simple stories with rambling, stream-of-consciousness soliloquies- http://www.proseworld.com/faulkner.html A description of the Acceptance Speech given by Faulkner upon receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1950. -When Faulkner delivered his Nobel Prize speech, no one could understand what he said --- he stood too far from the microphone, and his Southern accent and rapid delivery made it even more difficult to understand what he was saying. But when they discovered what he said the next morning, the impact was tremendous. For years afterward, according to one scholar, Faulkner's speech would be recalled as the best speech ever given at a Nobel dinner- Judith Handschuh http://www.teenreads.com/authors/au-faulkner-william.asp -Excerpt from William Faulkner's 1950 Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech- 'I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal because he will endure: that when the last ding-dong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.' -- While researching William Faulkner the screenwriter, Tom Dardis tries to retrace Faulkner's footprints based on a dialogue in Howard Hawks' 'The Big Sleep' -- In the opening scene of the movie Marlowe, is having an interview, with an old, rich, retired paraplegic Army General. This character General Sternwood, has two daughters, one of whom being blackmailed by someone unknown. Their conversation is set in a stiflingly hot greenhouse where the general is keeping rare orchids. The greenhouse has become a sanctuary that the general relishes on.. Sternwood- ‘A nice state of affairs when a man has to indulge his vices by proxy. You are looking at a very dull survival of a rather gaudy life, a cripple, paralyzed in both legs. There’s very little I can eat, and my sleep is so near to waking that it is hardly worth the name. I seem to exist on heat like a newborn spider… -Marlowe- Yeah? -Sternwood- And the orchids are an excuse for the heat. Do you like orchids? -Marlowe- Not particularly -Sternwood- They are nasty things. Their flesh is too much like the flesh of men, and their perfume has the rotten sweetness of corruption… Marlowe asks the general about his daughters: -Marlowe- Are they alike? Do they run around together? -Sternwood- I think not. They are alike only in having the same corrupt blood. Vivian is spoiled. Exacting, smart, ruthless. Carmen is still the child who likes to pull the wings off the flies. I assume they have always had the usual vices, besides new ones of their own invention… -- Tom Dardis senses a ‘Faulknerian’ handwriting in the dialogue above. However after some elaborating he continues: ‘Surprisingly enough, the entire scene, almost word for word, is taken over directly from the pages of Chandler’s novel. Where, then, is Faulkner? If he didn’t write any of this, just what did he do? The answer probably lies in the fact that a film like The Big Sleep, like all films for that matter, is a collaborative work, and that Faulkner’s precise function here may be hard to isolate.’ -From 'Some Time in the Sun' - by Tom Dardis - Scribners 1976- -- posted by Walter at 10/01/2002 Monday, September 30, 2002 ‘Eight hours’ I needed a brief post, one to make sure that this day would not come at my own expense. Faulkner, so I noticed, dwelled on that question. Work as he put it is our only savior, and pity consort. Ah, how lovely life would be if only we could spend 8 hours something, on voracious eating and staying trim. On drinking boldly and staying lucid. And finally, spend our 8 hour limit to dedicated lovemaking, in the process of which staying, …well, -Dry? -- ‘You can’t eat for eight hours a day nor drink for eight hours a day nor make love for eight hours a day-all you can do for eight hours is work. Which is the reason why man makes himself and everybody else so miserable and unhappy.’ -William Faulkner- -- posted by Walter at 9/30/2002 Sunday, September 29, 2002 A deeply passionate stir Quite some time ago while on a backpacking trek across Hadrian’s wall and the Pennines with three of my friends, I had my first experience with the scenic English countryside, and some of its endearing inhabitants. As such (being a Dutchman and originating from a rural area) I can empathize with the ‘March of the 400.000’ that occurred last Sunday the 22th in London. It brought to mind this summer’s entertaining BBC broadcast reporting of country sports, shows, and gatherings. I have always been struck by the zest, resilience and defiance, of British country commoners and squires alike, be they tending the foxhounds, racing the thoroughbreds, playing a bout of Polo, or dressing up expertly. Watching Brits of any descent perform their unimitable and complex posturing gives me recurrent pleasure. The British people are a wonderful breed of natural actors and storytellers, who over a long time have shown an amazing agility to spread wit, good humour and resourcefulness evenly across a wide hierarchical spectrum. British phlegmatism is legion. So, if finally these countryfolks gathered in a combined and 'deeply passionate effort' to bring their grievances to Whitehall; all 400.000 of them (-). The current government had better take notice. Indeed. -- From ‘Wessex heights’ -There are some heights in Wessex, shaped as if by a kindly hand For thinking, dreaming, dying on, and at crises when I stand, Say on Ingpen Beacon eastward, or on Wylls-Neck westwardly I seem where I was before my birth, and after death may be- -Thomas Hardy- -- From ‘Fern Hill’ -And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold- -Dylan Thomas- -- ‘Halt to rural decline’ ‘The British countryside is only as beautiful as it is because it has been cared for, and lived in, by these people with generations of experience and knowledge. The unique scenery, and the people who live amongst it, are one of this country's most treasured national assets, and a crucial economic resource with so much income coming from tourism. It has never been more threatened than it is today’ -From an article in The Times by H.R.H the Prince of Wales July 23th 2001- -- Unhampered ways John Mortimer, attorney and author of the Rumpole stories and the ‘Rumpole of the Bailey’ BBC tv adaptation, evokes in gripping narrative a first witness account of the march of 400.000 country people in London, -- From the comment ‘A town-bred tyranny threatens country ways’ ‘As the huge procession moved slowly down Whitehall to Parliament Square this past weekend, the police were clapping-especially the mounted police, who are often to be seen cantering across the hunting field. So the terrier men and harness makers came in their coaches, a few upper-crust masters of foxhounds took lunch in their London Clubs, hundreds of thousands of people who love the English countryside and want to save it- to London we all marched. No longer good at walking, I led the weelchair brigade. The crowds on the bridges across the Thames waved to us and cheered us on. We were protesting against many things, but most of all against the tyranny of a majorty that wants to tell people how they should live their lives.’ John Mortimer – NYT -- posted by Walter at 9/29/2002 |
