Friday, November 27, 2009

J.L. Knox






The reasons I love Jennifer L. Knox are too many to list. But her ability of writing dark humored narratives within her poetry is something I admire and support in big way (you either identify or you don't - very little straddling the lines on this one). Her work isn't like what we were reading in AP English during high school - but maybe if we had I wouldn't have spent years saying I hated poetry (which ws probably due to a lack of understanding).

If My Love For You Were an Animal
Jennifer L. Knox



It would have three legs left, but only need two.
It would be easy to catch, but hard to kill.
It could hold its breath all winter and sleep upside down, anchored under the ice in kelp.
When wet, it would smell like clarinet reeds.
It would break every thing in the house—but purposely, silently, secretly, one item at
a time, over hundreds of years, so no one would notice.
Its cry, like an electrical tower wrestling a giant tinfoil dolphin in a meteor crater;

its purr, low enough to drive snakes from their dens.
It would be flightless, but you could always find it hiding up high.
Its name would mean magnet.
Ants would march towards it over mountains, and across the sea floor.
You could elbow it as hard as you wanted to right in the ribs.
It would be so loyal, if you fell asleep before you took the sleeping pill,
it would slip the sleeping pill under your tongue.

Check out her books Gringo Like Me and Drunk Before Noon if you really want to appreciate her.






-another reason I love her is that she looks like she is going to bake you cookies after school, but writes like that. Who knows, maybe she writes while the cookies are baking

Poetry. I think I've heard of that.

Currently am working on the computer to compile and edit all the text that I'm using....believe it or not, it's a bit faster (even though it's less aesthetically pleasing) than typewriters. This would be the text on the small pamphlet journals.
Some of it you may recognize from the stationery and other parts I haven't been able to use yet. In a way they've become poems...they're aren't resolved, but I think they seem less randomly connected.
_____________
An eighteen year-old spring chicken
– correction, rooster.
He had only seen five rainbows his entire life
He had the hands of someone who longs to play the piano
But never would
Smoke poured from his lips as innocence simultaneously poured from his eyes
His torso was a mile long of Nevada flatness
He smelt like he traveled somewhere
Experienced something most of us haven’t
He is the knot in the worms of my brain
He was the Q-tip I couldn’t resist jamming into my ear
I could hear the record static of his voice behind his words
Kissing him was licking a piece of bruschetta
His eyes were bouncing…I could never catch them
Just bounced away
He fucked my best friend
He left me a broken chair
I feel okay about it
I didn’t tell him that he was asshole
I also didn’t tell him that his pants were unzipped
I wanted to bite him
I wanted to marry him

(quotes by and/or inspired by twelve people)
_____________
A hit of homeless acid and dog’s blood in my mouth
Piss in the milk jug and sheep eyes in the cupboard
Two pancakes and a handful of ham in my purse
White stains on my shirt and smoke in my hair
Peanut butter fudge and a tarantula named Betty by the highway
Freedom in the fridge and bacon in my glass

(quotes by and/or inspired by five people)
______________
It’s hard to become unconscious
Whiskey masks sadness
Masks happiness
I woke up underneath my bed
The lights were all on and the floor shook
I look how I feel
I feel like shit
Look into the mirror

Old soul
Junky
Self-loathing
We are masochists
We crave self-destruction
Watching the beautiful rot
Comfortable in dead end roads
Making the same decisions I made last year
I want to light myself on fire and jump out the window
I’m going to cough up a testicle and kill myself
I can’t wait to I die alone

(quotes by and/or inspired by nine people)
__________
Staring out the window as if something would ever happen
Begging for stimulation
Her eyes shook, too excited to focus on anything
They ejaculate when she speaks
She had a mouth like a bulldog
Her teeth were always stained red
Blood, chianti, beets
Only pretty when she frowned

(quotes by and/or inspired by four people)
_____________
My sexual education program was taught be evangelical Christians
Some call it a penis
But really it’s just a large floppy clitoris
There’s not enough difference
If it was big I’d want to lick it
I don’t understand
Men that are straight
Men that are gay
Men that are women
Men that are men
No wonder everyone is pregnant
My body told me
Facts based on soft sciences

(quotes by and/or inspired by six people)

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Bones, Books, and....BUNNIES!

Getting the clavicle "mended" (a nice euphemism for pins and plates) tomorrow. So the work over the weekend will be limited.


"satan is always behind us"
Blank journal
"she needs a man
she needs a woman
she needs a lot of things"
Blank journal
"thirteen people within twenty-eight square miles"
Descriptions of 13 different people
Prototype book
Still need to add  images - going to try image transfers

"fourteen people within four months"
14 quotes I overheard and arranged in an order to create relationships between the disconnected
Prototype book


has nothing to do with IP, but I can't stop staring at it.




Saturday, November 7, 2009

Typewriter Conversations

Many people have asked me why I use a typewriter opposed to a computer.
"Am you one of those tragically hip kids that is just too cool for computers?"
Obviously not, as I write this blog. But I think typewriters are the next best thing to handwriting in terms of having a personality. Each typewriter is different as is the relationship of the typewriter with the writer. You see the mistakes, the movement, the hands that touched the machine.

After this statement I was immediately pointed in the direction of Naked Lunch. I watched the movie last night and have even more of an interest in the personality typewriters carry. However, if my Royal turns into a bug-like creature and begins speaking to me... I may start typing on my Mac.


Naked, Naked, Naked, Naked, Naked LUNCH.

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Thank You Judith Henry


Overheard Series

"Amusing and quirky, the "Overheard series is a uniquely designed record of conversational snippets heard in public settings. "Overheard at the Museum, the first in the series, captures the spectrum of humor, the irreverence, and the appreciation for Fine Art that museum-goers display. Revealing quotes are paired with compelling black-and-white photographs that show onlokers engaged in their individual and universal museum experiences.
Soul-baring, intimate, sordid, chock full of wit and wisdom, it's ear candy for the eavesdropper. These books are sure to become icons of popular culture."

Overheard in the bookstore


Overheard in the museum.






Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Pumpkin Seeds, Research, Broken Clavicles, and Ed West

Last Wednesday was mildly epic both for the mind and the body.

Had a lovely chat with Ed West concerning IP and life in general.
Highlights from the conversation include, but are not limited to:
  • me being in a mode of production when I have not played around enough with the different possibilities of creation
  • "varnishing everything the same way doesn't make them related"
  • What I am essentially doing is a system of edits - a million different variations of how I can edit and bring things together.
  • perfecting the level of my craft - cleaner, tighter, straight lines when necessary
  • Being an artist or the "clever girl at the party" - love this man.
We also discussed artists for me to look into. I am utterly embarrassed and in disbelief for not knowing Barbara Kruger's work immediately...or having her in mind while making my cards. Ed also pointed me in the direction of surrealist poets (making connections between the seemingly disconnected).

So I headed to the library and got books relating to these artists.
  • Barbara Kruger
    "JAM LIFE INTO DEATH"
  • Jenny Holzer - "Truisms"
  • Andre Breton
  • William Burroughs
After all this mental stimulation I decided to get myself into a little biking accident Wednesday night and broke my clavicle (Note to self: Don't try to eat sandwiches while biking. In the end Jimmy Johns just isn't worth it). This gave me a lot of down time over this weekend to read these books, but it also gave me little ability to actually create anything.

When I got back in the studio today...I felt liberated (not tied to the rules I created for myself), but also clueless of what I "should" be doing. I began making prototype books using the same text that I used for the cards...some are blank just with title text, others are pamphlet style and have one line of text on each folio (leaving room for image, if needed).

The three pamphlets

"fourteen people within four months"
Different things people said with the date.

"thirteen people within twenty-eight square miles"
descriptions of details of people that I've seen in ann arbor

"eighteen attempts with zero success"
one man's horrible attempt to hit on me while I was reading my book at a coffee shop. my dialogue wasn't even necessary to communicate the tone of the conversation.