[hypergraphia]

his work was unintentionally introduced to me when i was asked by my employer-friend (friend-employer) to go run an errand. he told me to bring back lehman’s collection of poems “the daily mirror” from the library. out of sheer curiosity, i flipped through the collection and immediately took a liking to the writing style; it was also similar to that of my employer-friend - to the point, clever and wonderfully deadpan.

here are a couple that i have taken a special liking to:

January 14

Let’s play Word Golf you go from
“love” to “hate” in fourteen lines
of from “kiss” to “fuck” one letter
at a time, like going from soft
to soot to loot to loft to lift
to life, that’s my idea but Anne
Winters wants us to write a poem
ending with the line “and I die
of thirst at the fountain’s rim”
so of course everyone does both
the snow like sea foam
surrounding a marooned sailor
stretched out before me, and how easy
it is for that mariner to swim
to shore a desert island where
he explored every inch on his belly
looking for water and dies
of thirst at the fountain’s rim

~

Ode to Modern Art

Come on in and stay a while
I’ll photograph you emerging from the revolving door
like Frank O’Hara dating the muse of modern art
Talking about the big Pollock show is better
than going to it on a dismal Saturday afternoon
when my luncheon partner is either the author or the subject
of The Education of Henry Adams at a hard-to-get-
a-table-at restaurant on Cornelia Street
just what is chaos theory anyway
I’m not sure but it helps explain “Autumn Rhythm”
the closest thing to chaos without crossing the border
I think you should write that book on Eakins and also the one
on nineteenth century hats the higher the hat the sweller the toff
and together we will come up with Mondrian in the grid of Manhattan
Gerald Murphy’s “Still Life with Wasp” and the best Caravaggio in the country
in Kansas City well it’s been swell, see you in Cleveland April 23
The reason time goes faster as you grow older is that each day
is a tinier proportion of the totality of days in your life

“Traditional art invites a look. Art that is silent engenders a stare. Silent art allows - at least in principle - no release from attention, because there has never, in principle, been any soliciting of it. A stare is perhaps as far from history , as close to eternity, as contemporary art can get.”

- Susan Sontag, The Aesthetics of Silence

recently i finished reading the aesthetics of silence. i remember during my senior thesis critique, one of the professors said, “it is okay to be minimalist, but you must understand what that means and what it implies.” ever since, i’ve been reading up about minimalism as an art movement. yes, indeed minimalism has it’s place within art history, it is a ‘category’, a tag that is applied to art that is reduced in form, whether it be music, theater, or sculpture.

but why? reading about the art movement itself wasn’t quite as inspiring as reading sontag’s essay about ’silence’. there is no such thing as only ’silence’, as john cage mentions regarding his 4′33″ performance, but silence is constructed based on ‘non-silence’; without one there cannot be the other, two co-existing polarities.

with art that is reduced to just a few elements, we are then required to focus on just those few things; we concentrate; we stare; we try to conjure meaning based on the little clues provided. with those elements, each is elevated to a higher level of importance, as they were selected out of a mulitude of elements to be included. the tendency towards silence is the tendency towards thought - “so art must tend toward anti-art, the elimination of the ’subject’, the substitution of chance for intention, and the pursuit of silence.”

classes are over. it’s nice, to have space to think, to observe, to reflect. and while i am still keeping myself busy by clocking in more hours at work before my work-study ends, it’s nice to have time for myself everyday after 5pm. it’s like a first glimpse of what a regular work schedule will be like… except i can already predict that i’ll get bored by a daily schedule very soon.

have been watching a lot of movies lately, taking advantage of our wonderful library before it’s time to leave. at the moment i’m on a cary grant kick. he was so dapper. my good friend art has lived by the motto “what would cary grant do?” for as long as he can remember. great role model, in my opinion.

just finished reading A Spot of Bother. i remember i first read Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time around six years ago… i thought Haddon was amazing back then, especially since he was so young. and i still think he’s really clever, but having gone to college now, and hopefully ‘grown up’ a bit, his novels just aren’t so magical anymore. funny feeling of having gained a tad of wisdom, at the same time lost that initial sense of wonderment. i find his writing extremely enjoyable though, and there were parts of the story that i really had to laugh aloud.

other than keeping myself entertained, ive been spending as much time as i can muster with my friends these days. recently ive felt this really intense love for them, not just because im about to leave, but also because its only after having spent three and a half years here do i feel that i belong, that i have made a stable group of friends. ive always been a little bit too comfortable with spending time alone, and it’s hard for me to be really attached to my friends. but now im closer to them than ever, and ive gotten to know so many people better, people who i cant imagine i’ll be leaving soon… right when we’re all going in different directions.

went to the Donald Kuspit lecture this evening. of course, i wasn’t expecting myself to understand everything he had to say, and i didn’t. nonetheless, whatever snippets i got i found really interesting. not to mention intimidating. at the end of his q&a session, he said “i don’t really know what i like, but i do know what i don’t like, and i don’t like most conceptual art”. and he’s giving me a crit tomorrow. uh oh.

anyways, i’m really glad there’s such an opportunity this year for seniors to have their work critiqued by a well-known art critic. and i’m sure i’ll get a lot out of it, however it turns out. still nervous though.

over spring fling, i went to the flea market and spent some time reading. thankfully the weather was beautiful, and i was in a good mood. i managed to finish AIDS and its Metaphors by Susan Sontag, and it’s extremely clever. though i know it would have made more sense to have read Illness and its Metaphors first, that one about cancer just hit a little too close to home, a raw nerve. anyway, i’d highly recommend this book to anyone; its a short, approachable, yet an insightful read, and really underlines the present day paranoia and fear that permeates everyone, everything, all the time.

for those who have not yet had to endure my rave about my newfound obsession…
i have become a victim of alfred jarry’s ramblings.

yes. i am referring to ‘pataphysics.

and yes, i know it is extremely pretentious. not just bizarre, but bizarrrrre. but if Duchamp and Baudrillard and JG Ballard loved ‘pataphysics (yes, it is spelt with an ‘apostrophe), then there must be something in it.

in any case, jarry amuses me. here’s an excerpt that i find extremely beautiful:

fear: your clock has three hands. why is that?
love: nothing could be more natural, nothing simpler. the first marks the hour, the second urges on the minutes, and the third, forever motionless, points to the eternity of my indifference.

- alfred jarry, “fear visits love”

The PMA invited Zakes Mda for a public reading, as part of their Art and Social Transformation lecture series and their current exhibition of William Kentridge’s tapestries.

I’ve only read one book by Mda, a short novel called Ways of Dying. i remember enjoying it, and it was my introduction to South African literature, aside from many other significances.

Mda didn’t read from Ways of Dying, but three newer works. still, hearing him pronounce the words, in their quiet, slightly singsong manner will really add to the experience of reading his novels again.

After School. a cafe i went to with a dear friend, in causeway bay. not only is everything overpriced, but how ludicrous is it to call itself a ’salon’?? the coffee wasnt even that good, and now that my curiousity is satiated, i will never go there again. and to think - it used to be ‘member’s only’…

i really think that i’m not so cut out to linger around the chic arts crowd, however much i like art myself. on one hand, i love it with a passion. i like making it, i like reading and writing about it; on the other hand, i often find others within the field, such as those who study fine arts, so ridiculous… they just seem like they’re living in another world, unreal, and insubstantial. it’s a self-centered discipline, and i try hard not to indulge in myself too much. maybe that’s why all my friends are in other disciplines. i think this will be a constant struggle with me (just like class struggle, but maybe a little less extravagant).

another vivitar photo. textures always attract photographers. i have many photos of various wallpapers, rusty iron bars and peeling paint.

just finished reading jane eyre. i almost forgot how romance novels move me… i like them, and it makes my ego feel better that it’s considered a ‘classic’ and not just a trashy romance thing. i never thought i’d get so wrapped up in it though - i couldnt put it down for even a few minutes, i was so engrossed.

anyone read the murakami short, blind willow, sleeping woman? it reminds me so much of the unbelievable truth song, i can’t wait.

photo taken with vivitar, tmax100. in the alleyway behind my apartment.

stayed at home today. reading some essays from the book Contemporary Art and Anthropology by A. Schneider and C. Wright. it’s a fascinating collection of essays, and is exactly where my interests lie - interdisciplinary, hardcore social science with soft, subjective art. the most helpful thing though are the notes at the back; a whole list of publications i can refer to for my research. since Christian Boltanski and Joseph Beuys both take a somewhat ‘ethnographic’ approach towards their work, i secretly wish that maybe i could follow their footsteps, and be an academic artist in hong kong… very ambitious of me.

so i found out about the upcoming Sonatrope Film Festival. im SO psyched; i’ve been waiting for something like this in hk, and finally someone got it done! so whoever is interested in independent films about underground music scenes, join me for a couple of screenings! i’ll be at the opening event for Squatterpunk, and also the Counting Headz: South Africa’s Sistaz in Hip Hop screening.

gah! i just bought Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman by Murakami, and i can barely contain my excitement! when was the last time i bought a ridiculously overpriced paperback? i’ve been reading so many second-hand books lately, i forget that wonderfully giddy feeling i get from ripping the plastic off the cover, and cracking open a book for the first time… mmm, the smell of freshly printed recycled paper…!

i think i’ve read about three to four stories from this collection before, either on the internet or somewhere, and i’m really looking forward to reading the others. i will definitely savour every page, maybe head off to lamma island again, sit on the beach or in a cafe and just relax for a day.

murakami is genius. i havent felt so enthusiastic about something in such a long time.

i finished two books in the past few days - an excerpt from Freud’s The Psychopathy of Everyday Life, Forgetting Things, and The Restraint of Beasts by Magnus Mills. i have decided that i really don’t like freud. it’s interesting reading about his theories… but do i really want to have sex with my dad?? and all my friends know that i can be quite forgetful at times… apparently, every time i forget about my friend’s birthday is because i have a subconscious motive based on aversion. totally gark arn lei geh.

as the the novel by mills - i never thought so much could be explored in a novel based on three scots building fences. it took a while before i was able to gain interest in the story, but give a bit of patience, and you realise that it’s really cleverly written, and full of deadpan humour - some of it so grotesque, you start feeling self-consciously sadistic when you catch yourself smiling. the best thing is, it’s such an easy read, but it gets you thinking a lot… in an easy, almost speculative manner.