Olafur Eliasson exhibit at the Marciano.
When the ladies of one of your favorite text-threads are finally all in the same city, and can convene for housewarming / heart-warming tacos.
The only organization in the world for which I would let myself write a short play to order in 20 minutes, then hand it over un-spellchecked to be performed immediately in front of an audience. Lynn Rosen’s technique for luring playwrights away from the computers:
1) come into the room where you’re writing, tell you gently that you’ve reached time
2) distract you, by waving handfuls of chocolate and a bottle of whiskey
3) while you’re distracted, some stealth ninja sneaks in, prints your play, and is gone.
…is a Friday night to behold. Martha Graham Cracker / Dito van Reigersberg – one of my favorite humans/ performers/ living, breathing, (very tall) pieces of art.
Insane installation by Samara Golden, called The Meat Grinder’s Iron Clothes. Impossible to explain but this piece alone is worth the entire price of admission. Beautiful work by Raúl de Nieves – including the stained glass panels behind the figures of Somos Monstros, which he made (in an untraditional way.)
Archaic Torso of Apollo
[Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Stephen Mitchell]
We cannot know his legendary head
with eyes like ripening fruit. And yet his torso
is still suffused with brilliance from inside,
like a lamp, in which his gaze, now turned to low,
gleams in all its power. Otherwise
the curved breast could not dazzle you so, nor could
a smile run through the placid hips and thighs
to that dark center where procreation flared.
Otherwise this stone would seem defaced
beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders
and would not glisten like a wild beast’s fur:
would not, from all the borders of itself,
burst like a star: for here there is no place
that does not see you. You must change your life.
An amazing poem, and an amazing talk about it by Mark Doty. A moment from that talk:
“Having read this poem hundreds of times, I remain startled by that final gesture. I feel something has taken place that I am and am not prepared for…
Imagine if this poem came to us without its final sentence. If the poem ended, ‘for here there is no place that does not see you,’ it’s not bad, is it? We’d be left with the sense that we are perceived by the work of art. But the profound sense of culmination would be missing. That final statement becomes a completion of all those figures we’ve been given by saying, ‘This is so powerful that you cannot stay out of it.’
Up until that last point in the poem, I think we can stay out of it. We can enjoy the active description, but we’re not necessarily implicated.”