interstitial
interstice
(suture) (itch)
mathematied
mathematizing
mathematamachine
David Jhave Johnston’s Interstitial deals with the fundamentals of existence: life and death. It does not attempt to sentimentalize nor deconstruct these issues. Death is death; life is life. He defines Interstitial art as any work of art whose basic nature falls between, rather than within, the familiar boundaries of accepted genres or media.
But others brought in
others brought in from the margins
“(It is only language, typing, that sticks in your throat?”
Darren Wershler-Henry’s Technologies of Dictation: Typewriting and the Toronto Research Group describes Toronto Research Group’s composition process as they (Nichol and McCaffery) portray it in one of their own texts, the fumetto (photo-comic) “Nary-A-Tiff”: at the scene of production, the two men are busy literally putting words in each others’ mouths as they paste word balloons down onto the photographs. Outside of such fleeting moments of elementary school-style craft production, though, typewritten dictation is rarely simple, and it is never innocent.
r e p e t e n s e / R O T E
(“frozen inscription”) w R O T E
“Where does the reading
experience end or even begin?”
Kate Armstrong argues in Feeds ans Streams: RSS Poetics that “RSS feeds out in an ongoing, dynamic process of perpetual becoming. Once this world has begun, how can it end?”
ruse / refusing / fuse / defuge
au lieu (skein and skin of the social)
“It is not that I desire blind-html, imageless, text-hysteric; it’s that there is an additional dialog, with email, that reconstructs the possible.”
In The < body > of Net Art Jim Andrews writes: “client-server relationships usually involve some storage on the server of information that is crucial to either later connections or to current connections by other people.”
“(para
meterized)
window
of the Witness”
at that
at it
at
“When the train started off, he took down his valise and extracted, after some hesitation, the first volume of The Thousand and One Nights. […] Along both sides of the train the city dissipated into suburbs; this sight, and then a view of the gardens and villas, delayed the beginning of his reading. The truth ways [he] read very little. The magnetized mountain and the genie who swore to kill his benefactor are – who would deny it? – marvellous, but not some much more than the morning itself and the mere fact of being. The joy of like distracted him from paying attention to Scheherezade and her superfluous miracles. [He] closed his book and allowed himself to live.”
Jorge Louis Borges, Ficciones
what to say at what’s seen or say you saw and seeing isn’t reading
what is reading and writing and looking too and looking through
look at it at what look at you looking at it stopping to look it up
look what up like look up a word looking or licking at the words
lick it up / the body as sponge / porousness / a text that seeps
(weeps)
In 1001 nights cast, Barbara Campbell performs a short text-based work each night for 1001 consecutive nights. The performance is relayed as a live webcast to anyone, anywhere, who is logged on to this website at the appointed time, that is, sunset at the artist’s location.
A frame story written by the artist introduces the project’s nightly performances. It is a survival story and it creates the context for subsequent stories generated daily through writer/performer collaborations made possible by the reach of the internet.
Each morning Barbara reads journalists’ reports covering events in the Middle East. She selects a prompt word or phrase that leaps from the page with generative potential. She renders the prompt in watercolour and posts it in its new pictorial form on the website. Participants write a story using that day’s prompt in a submission of up to 1001 words.
other islands in this text-fed stream
