AG2023_1022869a or doesn’t have to be

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Anahid Nersessian, in NYR, always write astutely on forms.

“I asked him recently if he finds it difficult to teach undergraduates. “Yes,” he said, “because photography doesn’t have to be art.” Unlike easel painting or classical ballet, photography is a fixture of the everyday world.”

[…]

“It is, after all, these same qualities—condensation, obliquity, an emphasis on affect, a posture of confiding—that define the poetry generally called “lyric.” Lyric poetry is what most people think of when they think of poetry, if they think about it at all. It’s poetry that allows the reader into the private consciousness of another person, often the poet herself.”

[…]

““Neither inside nor outside the image,” Chion says, the acousmêtre is neither a detached narrator-spectator of the film’s action nor a mysterious presence hovering in the wings, waiting to be revealed. It is rather “a kind of talking and acting shadow” that seems to be “wandering along the surface” of things, “seeking a place to settle.””


“Although the most powerful art, it sometimes seems to me, is an experience and a going-through; it is love comprehended by, expressed and enacted through the artwork itself, and for this reason has perhaps been more frequently created by people who feel themselves to be completely alone in this world—and therefore wholly focused on the task at hand—than by those surrounded by “loved ones.” Zadie Smith, Intimations


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“… & I place blushed

                         begonias newly-potted on my windowsill—

sad replica of my childhood garden. still, I wept

             when my grandmother’s tree returned—

                         replanted messy by surreptitious hands.”

Native Title by Ina Cariño

Un hasard n’est jamais qu’un destin qu’on ignore

“un hasard n’est jamais qu’un destin qu’on ignore”
“… vouée aux gémonies”
“la piste de son fantôme”
“les solitudes jonchent le sol de prisons sans geôliers”

Sarr, La Plus Secrète Mémoire des hommes

The Most Secret Memory of Men by Mohamed Mbougar Sarr, translated from the French by Lara Vergnaud. Other Press. Dedicated to Yambo Ouologuem.

via NYR


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A perpetual fluidity

“the self is not a fixity but a perpetual fluidity, reshaped by every experience we have: every love and every loss, every person we meet, every place we visit, and every book we read. And so it must be: “A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living,” Virginia Woolf wrote” via Popova.

We must exercise and train in order to continue to progress, stay limber, exceed our limits, grow, reflect, and learn how to be fluid.


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“… Now, under surveillance,

he needed to listen for words I couldn’t vocalize,
being a shade—to intuit what I could visualize

but not describe, and have faith I was there.”

Eurydice, Adrienne Su