October 8, 2006
Nico Vassilakis & Mary Burger
Sunday, October 8th
New American Art Union
922 SE Ankeny Street
$5 suggested donation
Nico Vassilakis comes from NYC, but lives in Seattle. An ex-wife said,
Thrum. He is a founder of the Subtext Collective. A recent guest editor
of White Wall of Sound #35 - Northwest Concrete & Visual Poetry. Latest
chapbook, ASKEW is available from bcc press and a forthcoming chap, POND
RING, from 9muses press.
Mary Burger’s book Sonny, a narrative prose work about the Manhattan
Project and the failures of ethical reason, was published in 2005 by
Leon Works. Mary is coeditor of Biting the Error: Writers Explore
Narrative (Coach House, 2004), an anthology of critical essays on
experimental narrative, and also coedits the companion Web site
Narrativity. Since 1998, she has edited Second Story Books, publishing
new works of experimental narrative with emphasis on cross-genre
writing. An Apparent Event: A Second Story Books Anthology was published
In other words, you see.
Distraction in the natural world is functional.
Tension applied to the next few feet of material is material.
The busyness of ideas accrues forming a larger non-idea.
Surprise of a handwritten end losing its loveliness.
The lump sum of delirious collisions make an alphabet restored.
As formula becomes lip-synched routine so do clouds make rain.
Twine line long strands of chewing gum pulled from the mouth.
The encrusted deflated diligent ability of signs & fractures.
Hourly return of soils & a name derived by chance share common strands.
Nostalgia for risk is wanting more risk than can be mentioned.
Than can be mentioned in bird watching societies.
One location is the new york city broadcasting system.
Bone density of a flower caught in negative spindles.
Repeating color fields actually detract from its significance.
Classically what emanates from a point is not another dot but circles.
For convenience the river was disfigured to suite the local economy.
Deceit in this situation made the table of edibles unappetizing.
Moving within time we are forced to create a timeline of ourselves.
The true measure of a person is metric.
A Certain Kind of Consciousness
Modernism’s after-image, we say, these clean lines, we knew all along what they were for.
We make the soft break from a certain kind of consciousness, it’s hard to measure what it took. This consciousness dares to say, I’m not asking. This consciousness dares to fall apart under questioning. This consciousness is inadequate, and yet it takes place. This consciousness proceeds without procedure. This consciousness cannot stand aside and provide a map to visitors. This consciousness might make for a mild, poignant feature article—musty fifth-floor walkup, newspapers stacked floor to ceiling with rabbit-warren pathways in between, sunlight and street noise filter in through an unseen window, in the kitchen a single energy-saving fluorescent bulb, a heavy restaurant-grade ceramic coffee mug, chipped, a porcelain sink with rust stains where the faucet had dripped for forty years.