Hear the Enchanting Jorge Luis Borges Read “The Art of Poetry”

Very few peo­ple can offer us a sat­is­fy­ing def­i­n­i­tion of poet­ry. Enu­mer­at­ing the tech­ni­cal qual­i­ties of lit­er­ary verse, as Eng­lish teach­ers do each day, seems like a pal­try expla­na­tion of what poet­ry is and does. Even the poets them­selves have strug­gled might­i­ly to find the con­tours of their art, only to end in gnom­ic koans or exas­per­at­ed sighs. “A poem should not mean / But be,” con­cludes Archibald MacLeish’s “ Ars Poéti­ca,” after telling us a poem should be “dumb,” “silent,” and “word­less.” MacLeish’s con­tem­po­rary Mar­i­anne Moore famous­ly spent five decades revis­ing her attempt, “Poet­ry.” Final­ly, she reduced it to three irri­ta­ble lines in which she con­fess­es her “dis­like” and “per­fect con­tempt” for her own art, how­ev­er “gen­uine” it may be.

These pinched mod­ernists not only resist­ed didac­tic con­cep­tions of poet­ry put forth by the ancients, but they also turned away from the grandiose rhetoric of the Roman­tics, who saw poets, in Per­cy Shelley’s unfor­get­table phrase, as the “unac­knowl­edged leg­is­la­tors of the world.” Per­haps they were right to do so. Per­haps also, there is anoth­er way to approach the sub­ject, a way open to one poet only—Jorge Luis Borges. No one but Borges could make the claims for poet­ry as he does in his “Arte Poéti­ca” in such a mov­ing and per­sua­sive way: Poet­ry, he tells us, is the knowl­edge of time, of death, of infin­i­ty, and of our very selves. “Hum­ble and immor­tal,” poet­ry allows us “To see in every day and year a sym­bol”

Of all the days of man and his years
And con­vert the out­rage of the years
Into a music, a sound, and a sym­bol

To see in death a dream, in the sun­set
A gold­en sad­ness, such is poet­ry

With ref­er­ence to the mys­ti­cal pre-Socrat­ic philoso­pher Her­a­cli­tus in the first and last stan­za, Borges makes his case with state­ments that seem the very oppo­site of humil­i­ty, and yet feel utter­ly right; poet­ry is immor­tal, it is “a green eter­ni­ty,” like Ulysses’ Itha­ca, it is “end­less like a riv­er flow­ing.” Or at least we feel it should be. Borges gives us a Pla­ton­ic ide­al of poet­ry, and it is one he might say, humbly, every poet should aspire to.

At the top of the post, you can hear Borges him­self read his poem, in Span­ish with Eng­lish titles, in a video shot in Uruguay and Borges’ native Argenti­na and fea­tur­ing a stir­ring Span­ish gui­tar score aug­ment­ing Borges’ solemn voice. Be sure to read the full text of Borges’ poem. As read­ers often do after fin­ish­ing one of the Argen­tine master’s pro­found­ly poet­ic works, you may find your­self for some time after­wards under a kind of spell, from an incan­ta­tion that seems, at last, to unlock the secrets of art, of poet­ry, and of so much more.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Borges Explains The Task of Art

Jorge Luis Borges’ 1967–8 Nor­ton Lec­tures On Poet­ry (And Every­thing Else Lit­er­ary)

New Jorge Luis Borges-Inspired Project Will Test Whether Robots Can Appre­ci­ate Poet­ry

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Eugène Delacroix Illustrates Goethe’s Faust, “One of the Very Greatest of All Illustrated Books”

faust9

Did our post last month on Édouard Manet’s illus­tra­tions of Stephane Mal­lar­mé’s trans­la­tion of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven get you excit­ed enough to track down Dover Pub­li­ca­tions’ col­lec­tion of those haunt­ing images? If so, you’ll notice that the book also con­tains Eugène Delacroix’s illus­tra­tions of Johann Wolf­gang von Goethe’s Faust, a bold set of art­works that earned high praise, at least from Goethe him­self: “Delacroix,” said the writer upon view­ing the lith­o­graphs made for the tex­t’s 1828 edi­tion, “has sur­passed my own vision.” You can see/read a com­plete ver­sion online here.

faust princeton

Prince­ton Uni­ver­si­ty Library’s Julie L. Mell­by uses that line to open a post on Delacroix’s Faust, “con­sid­ered by most his­to­ri­ans to be one of the finest pub­li­ca­tions of the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry. Gor­don Ray calls Delacroix’s illus­tra­tions ‘the high point of Roman­tic book illus­tra­tion,’ and David Bland called the vol­ume ‘one of the very great­est of all illus­trat­ed books.’ ” On that Prince­ton page you’ll find images scanned straight from Prince­ton’s copy of the book, and here we offer a select few to get you start­ed appre­ci­at­ing how Delacroix inter­pret­ed Goethe’s oft-told tale of divine wagers, pacts with the dev­il, and the temp­ta­tions of infi­nite knowl­edge.

faust3

“Every time I look at the engrav­ings of Faust I am seized with a long­ing to use an entire­ly new style of paint­ing that would con­sist, so to speak, in mak­ing a lit­er­al trac­ing of nature.” Delacroix wrote that in his jour­nal before tak­ing on the project of illus­trat­ing Faust him­self.

faust2

Maria Popo­va at Brain­Pick­ings quotes it in her own post on the work that result­ed in “a mes­mer­iz­ing dia­logue across dis­ci­plines between these two genius­es, half a cen­tu­ry apart in age.” (You can see more images on her site.) Whether or not Goethe knew he had writ­ten a work that would still res­onate with human­i­ty cen­turies lat­er, he did seem to under­stand that no one who saw Delacroix’s visions of it would ever for­get them.

faust8

H/T Prince­ton Uni­ver­si­ty / Brain­Pick­ings

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Goethe’s The­o­ry of Col­ors: The 1810 Trea­tise That Inspired Kandin­sky & Ear­ly Abstract Paint­ing

Watch Goethe’s Haunt­ing Poem, “Der Erlkönig,” Pre­sent­ed in an Art­ful Sand Ani­ma­tion

Édouard Manet Illus­trates Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven, in a French Edi­tion Trans­lat­ed by Stephane Mal­lar­mé (1875)

Baude­laire, Balzac, Dumas, Delacroix & Hugo Get a Lit­tle Baked at Their Hash Club (1844–1849)

The Death Masks of Great Authors: Dante, Goethe, Tol­stoy, Joyce & More

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

My First Time: Paris Review Video Series Features Writers Talking About Getting Started as Writers

Do you spend your days sweat­ing blood over a lap­top, work­ing on a nov­el or poem or screen­play that always seems to fall short of the bril­liant ver­sion that is in your head? Are you ter­ri­fied that if you don’t squeeze out a first nov­el that will instant­ly make you the toast of the New York lit­er­ary estab­lish­ment you will be an abject fail­ure? Do you feel com­pelled to work on a book but are still plagued with the slow cor­ro­sive drip of doubt? Well, take heart. Every­one feels like that when he or she starts out.

The Paris Review, one of the most impor­tant lit­er­ary mag­a­zines around, made its name with long, in-depth inter­views with lit­er­ary fig­ures. Now they are launch­ing a video series called “My First Time,” where they inter­view authors, car­toon­ists and play­wrights about the begin­ning of their careers.

“This is a chance to see how suc­cess­ful authors got their start, in their own words,” as the Paris Review’s Dan Piepen­bring writes. “It’s a por­trait of the artist as a begin­ner and a look at the cre­ative process, in all its joy, abjec­tion, delu­sion, and eupho­ria.”

It’s strange­ly com­fort­ing to watch these peo­ple talk about strug­gling with all the psy­cho­log­i­cal crap that con­fronts any­one who has the audac­i­ty to try to cre­ate. They suc­ceed­ed. Maybe you can too.

Above is the trail­er for the series and low­er down are inter­views with author J. Robert Lennon, car­toon­ist Gabrielle Bell and play­wright Bran­den Jacobs-Jenk­ins.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Paris Review Inter­views Now Online

Ray Brad­bury Gives 12 Pieces of Writ­ing Advice to Young Authors (2001)

H.P. Love­craft High­lights the 20 “Types of Mis­takes” Young Writ­ers Make

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing pic­tures of vice pres­i­dents with octo­pus­es on their heads.  The Veep­to­pus store is here.

 

The Animated Franz Kafka Rock Opera

“The Franz Kaf­ka Rock Opera” comes from Sea­son 1 of a 1999 video series called Home Movies. In this episode, we find the char­ac­ter Dwayne writ­ing a rock opera based on Kafka’s famous novel­la The Meta­mor­pho­sis. It’s not Tom­my or Quadrophe­nia — two of the great­est rock operas ever made. But it does, true to form, fea­ture lyrics and song. You can watch a seg­ment of the rock opera above.

· Kaf­ka Song #1: Intro­duc­tion
He is Franz Kaf­ka!
Franz Kaf­ka!
Be care­ful if you get him pissed…
Franz! Franz Kaf­ka!
He’ll smite you with metaphor fists!
Writ­ing all he can, he’s just a man
A war­rior of words tak­ing a stand
He is Franz Kaf­ka!
Spo­ken: Oh look, but there he is, what will he say?
I’m a lone­ly German…a lone­ly Ger­man from Prague!
Kaf­ka! Kaf­ka! Kaf­ka!

· Kaf­ka Song #2: Turn­ing into a bug
I don’t know what’s wrong with me I think I’m turn­ing into a bug
I see dou­ble what I see I think I’m turn­ing into a bug
I ain’t got no self-esteem I think I’m turn­ing into a bug
Bet you fifty dol­lars I’m a man, I’m a schol­ar and I’m turn­ing into a bug
Mom­ma like a dad­dy like a baby like a baby like I’ll turn into a bug
Yeah! Yeah!
He is Franz Kaf­ka!

· Kaf­ka Song #3: Liv­ing like a bug ain’t easy
Liv­ing like a bug ain’t easy
My old clothes don’t seem to fit me
I got lit­tle tiny bug feet
I don’t real­ly know what bugs eat
Don’t want no one step­ping on me
Now I’m sym­pa­thiz­ing with fleas
Liv­ing like a bug ain’t easy…

· Kaf­ka Song #4: End­ing
Spo­ken: Wel­come to heav­en Franz! My name is God! I think you’re going to like it here!
He is Franz Kaf­ka!

· Louis, Louis End Rap
Well, I’m, cur­ing dis­ease
Help­ing blind peo­ple read
Don’t drink that milk with­out talk­ing to me (Oh yeah!)
I’m sav­ing those who can’t see with their eyes
Don’t mess with me you’ll get pas­teur­ized!
Yeah! Come on! Come on! Louis Louis in the house! Break it down!

(Jason does a human beat­box)

· Kaf­ka End Song
Right now he can
He’s just a man
A war­rior of words
Tak­ing a stand
He grew up very poor
He’s steel, it’s to the core
Born in 1883 died in 1924
He is Franz Kaf­ka!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Four Franz Kaf­ka Ani­ma­tions: Enjoy Cre­ative Ani­mat­ed Shorts from Poland, Japan, Rus­sia & Cana­da

Franz Kafka’s Kafkaesque Love Let­ters

Vladimir Nabokov Makes Edi­to­r­i­al Tweaks to Franz Kafka’s Novel­la The Meta­mor­pho­sis

The Art of Franz Kaf­ka: Draw­ings from 1907–1917

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 2 ) |

Watch War and Peace: The Splendid, Epic Film Adaptation of Leo Tolstoy’s Grand Novel (1969)

War_and_Peace_poster,_1967

There’s an old axiom that mediocre books make great movies and great books make for lousy movies. Mario Puzo’s best­seller The God­fa­ther is a straight­for­ward pot­boil­er but Fran­cis Ford Cop­po­la spun it into one of the best films ever made. In con­trast, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gats­by has beguiled mul­ti­ple ambi­tious, mis­guid­ed film­mak­ers into mak­ing cin­e­mat­ic duds.

Hollywood’s 1956 adap­ta­tion of Leo Tolstoy’s famous­ly mas­sive tome War and Peace proved that axiom to be true. Direc­tor King Vidor, who gen­er­al­ly speak­ing is no slouch when it comes to direct­ing epics, just couldn’t trans­late the novel’s sweep and depth. More­over, the film’s leads, Audrey Hep­burn and Hen­ry Fon­da, just seemed mis­cast. New York Times crit­ic Bosley Crowther described the movie as “odd­ly mechan­i­cal and emo­tion­al­ly ster­ile.”

The movie was also an affront to Russ­ian nation­al­ism. After all, Tolstoy’s nov­el is not just anoth­er his­tor­i­cal epic; it is a cul­tur­al lode­stone for what is “Russ­ian-ness.” It is, as Rose­mary Edmonds, a trans­la­tor of the 1963 edi­tion of the book called, the “Ili­ad and the Odyssey of Rus­sia.” The Sovi­et film indus­try couldn’t let some half-baked Hol­ly­wood flick end up being the sole cin­e­mat­ic adap­ta­tion of the book. Mak­ing an adap­ta­tion was, as a bunch of Sovi­et film­mak­ers wrote in an open let­ter, “a mat­ter of hon­or for the Sovi­et cin­e­ma indus­try.”

After decades of mak­ing stol­id pro­pa­gan­da pieces that more often than not involved trac­tors, the Sovi­et film indus­try was fired up to make a work that was faith­ful to Tol­stoy and yet have artis­tic mer­it as a movie – a tall order. As the direc­tor and star of the Russ­ian ver­sion of War and Peace, Sergei Bon­darchuk, put it: “Our duty is to intro­duce the future view­er to the ori­gins of sub­lime art, to make the inner­most mys­ter­ies of the nov­el, War and Peace, visu­al­ly tan­gi­ble, to inform a feel­ing of full­ness of life, of the joy of human expe­ri­ence.”

The Sovi­et gov­ern­ment mar­shaled a stag­ger­ing amount of effort and expense to real­ize this film. Nev­er under­es­ti­mate the will of a total­i­tar­i­an dic­ta­tor­ship with an axe to grind. Pro­duc­tion start­ed in 1961 and last­ed six years. More than forty dif­fer­ent muse­ums con­tributed cos­tumes and set dress­ing to the pro­duc­tion, includ­ing things like chan­de­liers, sil­ver­ware and fur­ni­ture. The Depart­ment of Agri­cul­ture con­tributed 900 hors­es. The Red Army had 12,000 troops play as extras dur­ing the cli­mac­tic Bat­tle of Borodi­no sequence. Bon­darchuk suf­fered two near-fatal heart attacks dur­ing pro­duc­tion.

All that mon­ey and effort paid off. The result­ing movie was one of the most lav­ish, spec­tac­u­lar films ever made. And at 451 min­utes, it’s also one of the longest. (It was released in the USSR as four sep­a­rate movies.)

Along the way, Bon­darchuk pulled off the impos­si­ble – the movie is actu­al­ly good, mir­ror­ing the breadth and depth of the nov­el. War and Peace won all sorts of awards includ­ing an Oscar for Best For­eign lan­guage movie. As a young Roger Ebert raved back in 1969:

“War and Peace” is the defin­i­tive epic of all time. It is hard to imag­ine that cir­cum­stances will ever again com­bine to make a more spec­tac­u­lar, expen­sive, and — yes — splen­did movie. Per­haps that’s just as well; epics seem to be going out of favor, replaced instead by small­er, more per­son­al films. Per­haps this great­est of the epics will be one of the last, bring­ing the epic form to its ulti­mate state­ment and at the same time sup­ply­ing the epi­taph.

You can watch the film above, thanks to Mos­film. It comes com­plete with sub­ti­tles.

Bon­darchuk’s War and Peace, which you can also pur­chase online, is list­ed in our col­lec­tion, 4,000+ Free Movies Online: Great Clas­sics, Indies, Noir, West­erns, Doc­u­men­taries & More.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Rare Record­ing: Leo Tol­stoy Reads From His Last Major Work in Four Lan­guages, 1909

Vin­tage Footage of Leo Tol­stoy: Video Cap­tures the Great Nov­el­ist Dur­ing His Final Days

The Com­plete Works of Leo Tol­stoy Online: New Archive Will Present 90 Vol­umes for Free (in Russ­ian)

Leo Tolstoy’s Fam­i­ly Recipe for Mac­a­roni and Cheese

Jonathan Crow is a Los Ange­les-based writer and film­mak­er whose work has appeared in Yahoo!, The Hol­ly­wood Reporter, and oth­er pub­li­ca­tions. You can fol­low him at @jonccrow. And check out his blog Veep­to­pus, fea­tur­ing pic­tures of vice pres­i­dents with octo­pus­es on their heads.  The Veep­to­pus store is here.

Hear Toni Morrison’s Poetic Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech on the Radical Power of Language (1993)

Since her first nov­el, 1970’s The Bluest Eye, Toni Mor­ri­son has daz­zled read­ers with her com­mand­ing language—colloquial, mag­i­cal, mag­is­te­r­i­al, even fan­ci­ful at times, but held firm to the earth by a com­mit­ment to his­to­ry and an unspar­ing explo­ration of racism, sex­u­al abuse, and vio­lence. Read­ing Mor­ri­son can be an exhil­a­rat­ing expe­ri­ence, and a har­row­ing one. We nev­er know where she is going to take us. But the jour­ney for Mor­ri­son has nev­er been one of escapism or art for art’s sake. In a 1981 inter­view, she once said, “the books I want­ed to write could not be only, even mere­ly, lit­er­ary or I would defeat my pur­pos­es, defeat my audi­ence.” As she put it then, “my work bears wit­ness and sug­gests who the out­laws were, who sur­vived under what cir­cum­stances and why.”

She has sus­tained such a weighty mis­sion not only with a love of lan­guage, but also with a crit­i­cal under­stand­ing of its power—to seduce, to manip­u­late, con­found, wound, twist, and kill. Which brings us to the record­ed speech above, deliv­ered in 1993 at her accep­tance of the Nobel Prize for Lit­er­a­ture. After briefly thank­ing the Swedish Acad­e­my and her audi­ence, she begins, “Fic­tion has nev­er been enter­tain­ment for me.” Wind­ing her speech around a para­ble of “an old woman, blind but wise,” Mor­ri­son illus­trates the ways in which “oppres­sive lan­guage does more than rep­re­sent vio­lence; it is vio­lence; does more than rep­re­sent the lim­its of knowl­edge; it lim­its knowl­edge.”

Anoth­er kind of lan­guage takes flight, “surges toward knowl­edge, not its destruc­tion.” In the folk­tale at the cen­ter of her speech, lan­guage is a bird, and the blind seer to whom it is pre­sent­ed gives us a choice: “I don’t know whether the bird you are hold­ing is dead or alive, but what I do know is that it is in your hands. It is in your hands.”

Lan­guage, she sug­gests, is in fact our only human pow­er, and our respon­si­bil­i­ty. The con­se­quences of its mis­use we know all too well, and Mor­ri­son does not hes­i­tate to name them. But she ends with a chal­lenge for her audi­ence, and for all of us, to take our own mea­ger lit­er­ary resources and put them to use in heal­ing the dam­age done. You should lis­ten to, and read, her entire speech, with its maze-like turns and folds. Near its end, the dis­cur­sive­ness flow­ers into exhor­ta­tion, and—though she has said she dis­likes hav­ing her work described thus—poetry. “Make up a sto­ry,” she says, “Nar­ra­tive is rad­i­cal, cre­at­ing us at the very moment it is being cre­at­ed.”

We will not blame you if your reach exceeds your grasp; if love so ignites your words they go down in flames and noth­ing is left but their scald. Or if, with the ret­i­cence of a sur­geon’s hands, your words suture only the places where blood might flow. We know you can nev­er do it prop­er­ly — once and for all. Pas­sion is nev­er enough; nei­ther is skill. But try. For our sake and yours for­get your name in the street; tell us what the world has been to you in the dark places and the light. Don’t tell us what to believe, what to fear. Show us belief’s wide skirt and the stitch that unrav­els fear’s caul. You, old woman, blessed with blind­ness, can speak the lan­guage that tells us what only lan­guage can: how to see with­out pic­tures. Lan­guage alone pro­tects us from the scari­ness of things with no names. Lan­guage alone is med­i­ta­tion

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. It’s a great way to see our new posts, all bun­dled in one email, each day.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Toni Mor­ri­son Dis­pens­es Writ­ing Wis­dom in 1993 Paris Review Inter­view

7 Nobel Speech­es by 7 Great Writ­ers: Hem­ing­way, Faulkn­er, and More

Toni Mor­ri­son, Nora Ephron, and Dozens More Offer Advice in Free Cre­ative Writ­ing “Mas­ter Class”

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness.

Patti Smith’s Polaroids of Artifacts from Virginia Woolf, Arthur Rimbaud, Roberto Bolaño & More

16well-smith-custom3-tmagArticle

Polaroid pho­tog­ra­phy has seen a new wave of inter­est over the past decade, in large part from young pho­tog­ra­phers look­ing to do some­thing dif­fer­ent from what they can with the dig­i­tal tech­nol­o­gy on which they grew up.

The oth­er mod­ern prac­ti­tion­ers include no less a cre­ator than Pat­ti Smith, who have per­son­al­ly wit­nessed the for­mat’s appear­ance, fade, and return. A few years ago, her Polaroid pho­tog­ra­phy reached the gal­leries, becom­ing shows and instal­la­tions in Con­necti­cut and Paris.

"Walt Whitman's Tomb, Camden, NJ"

These “black-and-white sil­ver gelatin prints made from Polaroid neg­a­tives, small and square and in soft focus,” writes the New York Times’ A.O. Scott, “are culled from a col­lec­tion that doc­u­ments hun­dreds of encoun­ters with world­ly effects trans­formed into sacred relics. A fork and a spoon that belonged to Arthur Rim­baud, the French sym­bol­ist poet who has been one of Smith’s touch­stones for­ev­er. [Robert] Mapplethorpe’s bed­room slip­pers and the tam­bourine he made for Smith. A chair that belonged to the Chilean nov­el­ist Rober­to Bolaño. William S. Burroughs’s ban­dan­na. A repli­ca of a life mask cast from the fea­tures of William Blake.”

Virginia Woolf’s bed, writing desk, and gravestone

Smith’s “gor­geous, misty pho­tographs are inspired by arti­facts from some of Smith’s favorite artists, from muse­ums she has vis­it­ed around the world, and many are from her per­son­al life,” writes Fla­vor­wire’s Emi­ly Tem­ple on “Cam­era Solo,” the Hart­ford exhi­bi­tion which intro­duced these Polaroids to Amer­i­ca in 2011. If you did­n’t make it to the Wadsworth Atheneum for that show, you can still expe­ri­ence it through Pat­ti Smith: Cam­era Solo, its com­pan­ion book. Or have a look at her work on dis­play at the BBC’s site, the gallery that offers the pho­tos of Vir­ginia Woolf’s bed, writ­ing desk, and grave­stone just above.

16well-smith-custom4-tmagArticle

You can see even more at this post from Lens Cul­ture on “Land 250,” the exhi­bi­tion of Smith’s Polaroid pho­tog­ra­phy at Paris’ Fon­da­tion Cartier.“I first took Polaroids in the ear­ly 1970s as com­po­nents for col­lages,” it quotes Smith as say­ing. “In 1995, after the death of my hus­band, I was unable to cen­ter on the com­plex process of draw­ing, record­ing or writ­ing a poem. The need for imme­di­a­cy drew me again to the Polaroid. I chose a vin­tage Land 100.” In 2002, she set­tled on the Land 250, the ven­er­a­ble instant cam­era that gave the Paris show and its asso­ci­at­ed mono­graph their titles. It sure­ly counts as one of the most impor­tant arti­facts of Smith’s artis­tic life — and one with which she has cap­tured the arti­facts of so many oth­er artis­tic lives impor­tant to her.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch Pat­ti Smith Read from Vir­ginia Woolf, and Hear the Only Sur­viv­ing Record­ing of Woolf’s Voice

Pat­ti Smith Reads Her Final Words to Robert Map­plethor­pe

Pat­ti Smith’s List of Favorite Books: From Rim­baud to Susan Son­tag

Andy Warhol’s 85 Polaroid Por­traits: Mick Jag­ger, Yoko Ono, O.J. Simp­son & Many Oth­ers (1970–1987)

The Mas­ter­ful Polaroid Pic­tures Tak­en by Film­mak­er Andrei Tarkovsky

Col­in Mar­shall writes on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The First Trailer for the Upcoming David Foster Wallace Film Is Now Online

Heads up David Fos­ter Wal­lace fans. Yes­ter­day, A24 Films released a trail­er for The End of the Tour, James Ponsoldt’s upcom­ing film which stars Jason Segel as David Fos­ter Wal­lace, and Jesse Eisen­berg as Rolling Stone jour­nal­ist David Lip­sky. The film is based on Lip­sky’s 2010 mem­oir, Although of Course You End Up Becom­ing Your­selfwhich doc­u­ments the five-day road trip Lip­sky took with Wal­lace in 1996, just as Wal­lace was com­plet­ing the book tour for his break­out nov­el Infi­nite Jest.

You might know Jason Segel from lighter and often hilar­i­ous com­e­dy films like For­get­ting Sarah Mar­shall and Knocked Up. When The End of the Tour hits the­aters on July 31st, you’ll see him inhab­it­ing a very dif­fer­ent kind of role.

When you’re done watch­ing the trail­er above, you can see the real David Fos­ter Wal­lace in Big, Uncut Inter­view record­ed in 2003. It makes for an inter­est­ing com­par­i­son.

via Vari­ety

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Fos­ter Wallace’s 1994 Syl­labus: How to Teach Seri­ous Lit­er­a­ture with Light­weight Books

30 Free Essays & Sto­ries by David Fos­ter Wal­lace on the Web

‘This Is Water’: Com­plete Audio of David Fos­ter Wallace’s Keny­on Grad­u­a­tion Speech (2005)

« Go BackMore in this category... »
Quantcast