Currently thinking: Middle of nowhere is not a place. It is a process. 14.07.23
This is a reading list that I kept building for some reason as I kept writing my dissertation towards an end… But here it goes:
I emailed my supervisor some months ago that I could see the endgame in sight. This was about my dissertation, but it could also be about the way one’s transitions in life often work—in retrospect. I started working on my dissertation so long ago, not in terms of time but simply my headspace, that writing…
It is only as I prepare to move between apartments, write a dissertation, and enter the last year of my dissertation that the artificial constructed nature of this reading list seems like a beautiful refuge of kind.
Some months ago, in a haze of art talk and chats about Samuel Beckett and Kobo Abe, I told Susumu Kamijo that I would love to write about his art. It was an impulsive thing to say, considering that I have never written about any art that I have loved or hated.
Like any place that is open and is skate-able, a community of skaters make that space their own.
I am always mildly annoyed by the fact that while GQ would have a bunch of smart rappers, actors, and even artists for their 10 essentials but a writer has never really been invited to talk about their essentials. More so than ever, academics—poor souls who live most their lives stuck to their computers these…
lessons from day one at the Marbach archive – The thing that you are looking for may not actually be there but it is more important to understand why is it that it is not there. What do you do with the things you find there? – The archive is a curated experience. What are…
I am preparing for the archive visit that starts tomorrow and found myself trawling through (what else?) the immense data of JStor to look for stuff on Carl Weissner. And out of nowhere the fabulous concrete poetry journal came to the screen.
Somewhere in the midst of reading Karl Ove Knausgaard’s Death in the Family, in the section of the party in spring, a deep ache to listen to all the albums that he had put together “written in my own childish capitals on the spines”
I was glad that one is still possible to be able to hold on to some sounds of summer. Like this podcast episode that I worked on, speaking to Zoran Terzić, about memes, the internet, Kafka, and other marvellous beings.
“The world is full of paper. Write to me.“