I spent an afternoon at the Guggenheim with Swedish artist Hilma af Klint’s abstract, spiritual collection, one she began creating in 1906.
I have been calling it the shell of my book, but when I say the word shell I don’t mean an eggshell, where everything is neat, suspended, and contained within a thin, fragile layer, I mean the other kind of shell. A conch or maybe a broken piece of coral, where the elements can flow in one way and flow out another.
Nude Descending a Staircase, No. 2 by Marcel Duchamp
Excerpt written by sculptor Henri Gaudier-Brzeska
he asked me to think about “where the status quo is broken”. Then I was assigned the poet Gregory Pardlo’s memoir, Air Traffic
A dimmed corner of a life and a time I’d only heard stories about. I was in Nutley to seek evidence that the stories were true.
If you live, commute, and work in any big city, you know how difficult it can be sometimes to find a quiet place to work.
I remembered how inspired I felt after Alexander Chee’s and Porochista Khakpour’s joint keynote. Alexander Chee said, “I had this habit of erasing my accomplishments”.