DC's

The blog of author Dennis Cooper

Clowns

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Steven Quinn Clown Face (2014)
‘In his series Clown Face, the artist creates new, more cheerful characters, for old actors and actresses. Using found images of old Hollywood’s stars, he stencils clown makeup over their faces, with spray paint.’

 

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Yishai Jusidman Clown Spheres (1990)

 

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Clown Core Hell (2018)
‘Clown Core perform their song “Hell” while inside of a large Porta Potty. According to Urban Dictionary, clowncore is a style of music “having fast paced beats and usually containing a combination of D’n’B, trance, hip hop, acid, and circus music.”’

 

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Keith Sonnier Clown Novice (1997)
Nylon sailcloth, metal, blower, Argon, and electric light

 

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Aziz + Cucher By Aporia, Pure and Simple (2011)
By Aporia, Pure and Simple is a multi-channel video installation in which Aziz + Cucher appear in an absurdist, clownish performance that alludes to the daunting and seemingly futile task of engaging with existential questions as they piece together video footage from their travels to the Middle East.’.

Watch it here

 

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Allison Schulnik Clowns (2008)

 

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Llefen Carrera Clown (2019)

 

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Piek! Clown (2001)
Clown is an installation in which the spectator is one of the main characters. When looking through a peeping hole in a blue wall, one sees a projection of a forest. In that forest a half naked clown is trying to get her trousers out of the trees, in which she almost succeeds. It seems that she isn’t enjoying her ‘act’ but what the reason of the ‘act’ is doesn’t become clear. The clown isn’t the only one in the forrest: the spectator is also appearing in the projection. He /she is watching from behind a tree at the jumping clown.’

 

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Tim Shaw The Birth of Breakdown Clown (2017)
‘Breakdown Clown is an outsider, a bit like a priest or a shaman or a therapist. The program malfunctions, data gets mixed up, and out of the mouth of the clown come wonderful nuggets of truth mixed up with verbal madness. The clown doesn’t look like a clown, and that’s OK—clown imagery is not for me, it’s too decorative. I’d intended a large, perhaps asexual figure, but in its present form, it’s quite masculine, although that might change.’

 

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Wayne Thiebaud Clown Paintings (2000 – 2018)

 

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Liz Craft Mermaid (2008-2015)

 

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Brian Whiteley Clown Masks and Performances (2016)
‘Performance artist Brian Whiteley dresses up as the clown of your worst nightmares in order to explore ideas of fear and phobia. You may not see him at first, as he lurks in a Chicago graveyard on a brilliant, spotless day. It takes you a few moments to spot him as he passes from gravestone to gravestone. The sun is bright, and at first he’s just a coloured speck, distinguishable by his trio of balloons and oversized clown costume. Whiteley is a former clown himself (he attended clown school at the age of 12).’

 

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Lucio Fontana Clown (1949)

 

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Ugo Rondinone let’s start this day again (2017)
‘Life-size clown sculptures pose within a gallery to emphasize their introspection and melancholy. In a world that seems increasingly divided between scary clowns and jovial ones, Rondinone provided a third choice: silently contemplative clowns. His exhibition saw 45 of these unsettlingly life-like sculptures — with closed eyes, red noses and Pierrot-white faces, dressed in a riot of neon, sequins, tulle and teeny, tiny black hats — lost in a surrounding world of color so intensely alive it should make them want to jump and dance… but they didn’t.’

 

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Larry Ogle Bear Problem – SOLVED (2017)

 

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Wham-O Fun Fountain (1980)
‘This “fountain” consisted of a clown head-shaped base that sprayed water at high pressure skyward, and a clown hat that you placed over the stream. The water pressure would lift the clown hat skyward, levitating it just out of reach, and spraying everyone near it with an enjoyable drizzle of chilly hose water. But The Fun Fountain has a dark secret. It wasn’t just a stay cool toy, but was instead a game of Russian roulette.’

 

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James Ormsbee Chapin The Merry Clown (1941)

 

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Marnie Weber Giggle of Clowns (2009)
‘In the fairytale of Marnie Weber’s Giggle of Clowns (2009), a group of twelve surrounds a flower-laden corpse, shocked at the prospect of adventure without their ringleader. This corpse has returned to her higher calling to lead her all-female rock band called The Spirit Girls on their quest for spiritual salvation. The clowns are aghast: the fun is over.’

 

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Kathryn Andrews Run for President (2016)
‘The title of LA-based Kathryn Andrews’s first solo museum show in the US refers to a presidential campaign by—surprise!—Bozo the Clown. Fifteen seductive yet chilling sculptures, made since 2011, many of which amend certified movie props (among other political footballs thrown from the collective unconscious), will be appointed to a wild exhibition narrative for which Bozo’s largely forgotten 1984 bid serves as a backdrop.’

 

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Bruce Nauman Clown Torture (1987)
‘Bruce Nauman, through his Clown Torture, delves into what is known as torture comedy. However, what you will not see clearly is the identity of the person undergoing torture. The work doesn’t show us the exact kind of torture the clown faces. If you are keen enough, though, you will realize that the tortured party is the one watching all of this unfolding – you! The loudness, the mess, and the screaming clown, among other features all torture your senses. Here, Nauman reminds us that art doesn’t always have to be beautiful. It can be quite ugly too!’

 

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Michael Rees Pneumatopia (2018)
‘The sculptures become clownish vessels that not only contain something, but that alter our perception of what’s on the other side. And by adding a layer of imagery when we view the sculpture through the tablet imagery — ants seem to emerge out of a clown’s head — we either become closer to the object because we’ve entered into its distorted psychic space, or further metaphysically removed because we become focused on the small screen in front of us. Either way, Rees destabilizes the here and now within this constantly shifting, trippy environment.’

 

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Czech Technical Institute Blind Juggler (2011)
‘”Blind Juggler” is an impressive machine that has no sensors or cameras. Instead, it relies on mechanical feedback and some fancy math to control the trajectory of the ball and keep it airborne. The Blind Juggler debuted back in 2009, but creators Philipp Reist and Raffaello D’Andrea introduced an interesting wrinkle for version 2.0 by turning the entire thing into a pendulum that passes the ball to itself. Clearly, the next step is face paint and a red, foam nose.’

 

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Georg Baselitz Clown (1981)

 

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Sean Landers Clowns at Sea (2011)
‘Landers embraces his anti-hero fully however, freeing him from the circus and sending him around the world as skipper of a disturbingly un-seaworthy and shape-shifting vessel. He eschews the laws of physics and narrative continuity in this series – the captain’s wheel shrinks to flimsy inadequacy and expands to dwarf the helmsman. Though the artist is an experienced sailor, the details of the boat are purposefully wrong or missing; the jib is not tied to the boom, the gunwale appears to consist of carved wooden bannisters, the wheel sometimes faces the stern. His brave avatar is far from land, in a deliberately inadequate craft. The ocean is rendered more authentically – shifting from green to blue to calm to roiling – indicating that on some level this journey is real. Despite the perceptual ambiguities and challenges present, this voyage is not entirely doomed.’

 

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Ben Clown Bomb (2012)

 

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Epic Fireworks Crazy Clown Fountain (2018)

 

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Life of a Craphead Entertaining Every Second (2018)
‘The title of this exhibition comes from a Nam June Paik quote: “I am a poor [wo]man from a poor country, so I have to be entertaining every second.”’

 

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Paul McCarthy
Pinocchio Pipenose Household Dilemma
(1994)

 

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Max Streicher Endgame (Nagg & Nell) (2019)

 

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Jumex Spraypaint (2019)

 

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Luke Stephenson The Clown Egg Register (2017)

 

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Jeffrey Vallance Clown Family Tree (1998)

 

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Angus Fairhurst & Damien Hirst A Couple of Cannibals Eating a Clown (1993)
‘This 22 minute-long video is an exercise in extreme deadpan. Hirst and Fairhurst, sitting in a pub dressed as clowns, competitively tell each other stories in the style of British humorists Peter Cook and Dudley Moore. But instead of jokes or amorous conquests, the two friends reel off morbid accounts of accidents, wallowing in the graphic details, until they burst into laughter.’

 

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Marion Peck Red Clown, Blue Clown (2019)
‘I have long enjoyed painting clowns. Clowns have depth. They are disturbing, like strange spirits, mysterious characters emerging from the depths of the psyche, which is why many people fear them. Clowns convey pure emotion. It can be very cathartic to paint them. The paintings I made for Red Clown, Blue Clown allowed me to express some of the intense, difficult feelings I have living in these crazy times, when everything seems poised to fall apart.’

 

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Wild Bill’s Nostalgia Shop (1992 – 2018)
‘Wild Bill’s Nostalgia Shop opened more than 3 decades ago. Last year, its founder passed away and his family says they can no longer maintain the store. This is the store’s final weekend.’

 

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Jonathan Borofsky Ballerina Clown (1989)
‘When it was first unveiled, the sculpture caused a big stir in the community, not just for its odd aesthetics – it looks like a female ballerina with a large clown mask and gloves standing on a crate – but also because it would kick out one of its legs continuously and “sing.” This 30-foot tall giant would “dance” and belt out the Sid Vicious version of the Frank Sinatra classic “My Way” throughout the evening to the chagrin of its neighbors. Needless to say, the song was the first to be cut out (a few days after its debut) due to complains coming mostly from the condominium residents that reside in the building, followed by the shutting down of the “kicking leg” a bit later. For its 25th anniversary, Ballerina Clown began “kicking it” again according to an arrangement with the current Renaissance housing association and former owner Harlan Lee.’

 

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Erwin Olaf Paradise Club (2001)
‘Never has coulrophobia been realized so perfectly than with this glossy, sinister, saturated clown bondage-fest.’

 

 

*

p.s. Hey. ** DennisCooperSucks, Wow, hello. I don’t what book you’re referring to. If I blurbed it, I must have liked it. As for your insults … I don’t know, enjoy? ** Jay, Half a marathon still sounds like a lot. Congrats! People with stability related fears usually appreciate the paternal, so no worries, unless it upends your and his thing, I guess. Anyway, you’re good. Have a checkered flag waving Monday. xo. ** fish, Hi. Medicine is pretty noble. But, yeah, there’s all that schooling involved? But if it’s what excites you when you think about the future, that’s what matters. And everything great is difficult. Um, no, I could tell from very early on that being creative and artistic in some way was my only possible value, I think. Much to the misery of my parents, of course. ** Barkley, Fulci’s camerawork is pretty magical, yeah. I like zooms. Like Visconti always does those abrupt, melodramatic zooms. They’re kind of weirdly sexy. I read some Hakim Bey, but not for a long time. His real life identity, Peter Lamborn Wilson, really hated my work, so it was hard to read the Bey stuff objectively. The zine sounds really exciting. I hope it gets born and I can see it. Best to you! ** _Black_Acrylic, It’s true, I associate you so strongly with Dundee that I sometimes forget you aren’t still there. Any theories as to why the Scotland team is shite? ** Carsten, Thank you, sir. The honor was entirely the blog’s and mine. Things cultural definitely drop way down in the mid -> late summer here. Events become more tourist oriented. It’s not a total wasteland, but it’s not Paris at its glorious peak. My schedule is eternally dependent on what’s going on with film. I suspect I’ll be around Paris at least somewhat in July. In August we’re showing RT at a festival in Norway, and we’re thinking to extend that and do road trip around Scandinavia re-hitting our favorite amusement parks there, but nothing is set yet. ** kenley, Hi. So sorry to hear about the almost collapsing, but you just have to hold on and stay in one piece for two more days if your March theory is correct at least. Any uplift as of this morning, I hope? ** Adem Berbic, Time is fluid here, no sweat. No, Close-Up completely blew us off. I was kind of shocked. I think basically at this point we aren’t going to show the film in London unless something from there reaches out. It’s sad and strange since the screenings of our earlier films went really well there, but London doesn’t seem to want the film, and we’re tired of banging our heads on that wall. You have a provisional Paris date? When? ** ⋆˚꩜。darbbzz⋆˚꩜。, Hey, pal. There’s still a possibility of the Charlotte, NC screening. We’re waiting to hear. Ooh, sweet, about your Korg being alive. I can’t wait to hear what you’re concocting. I almost never eat candy, and I think that’s really sad, but it’s my own fault. The site with your poem wouldn’t let me in. It said I need a password, but I don’t have one obviously. Let me know if you get the door open. Or maybe my laptop is being weird. I’ll try again later. ** Steve, I hope your cold is/was a quickie. I get why people who only go to see Marvel and etc. movies think ‘PHM’ is ‘amazing’, but that’s about it. Yes, there was a reasonably substantial No Kings rally here, but of course it was also about our own homegrown far right too. ** HaRpEr //, I’m so sorry about all the ugly stupidity around you. Somehow you have to re-situate yourself in London or somewhere, but I don’t how one blows that shit off in the meantime. They’re primitives, but primitives rule the fucking world these days. I don’t know. I’m so sorry, pal. ** Right. I think today’s post will work whether you like clowns or hate them? Maybe? I decided to take that chance. See you tomorrow.

Carsten presents … Dreamkeeping

I slept and my souls went away.
—Things Seen by the Shaman Karawe (Chukchi)

In the magical universe there are no coincidences and there are no accidents.
—William S. Burroughs

A bo phela a morapeli, Malaola
tse phelang le tse shoeleng.

He will live who knows how to pray.
Divining the things alive & dead.
— The Praises of the Falls (Basuto)

Dreams are subterranean soul stirrings. Dispatches from the spirit-world. To not only heed but map & catalogue them has been seen by deep cultures everywhere as good spiritual housekeeping. This can take many forms.

Among the Bidayuh of Sarawak (Malaysia) the shaman undergoes trance & records what he sees. He is a willful dream-traveler whose experiences both down below & up above feed the archive of song & lore that constitutes the wealth of the community.

The divination traditions of the Basuto & Yoruba, like the more widely known Chinese I Ching, draw from a vast poetic storehouse of recorded visions, dreams & memories—some mythic, some obscure, but all fundamentally weird in the old English sense of the word wyrd, which smacks of the Fates & refers to “the power to control destiny”. That’s where the healing comes in. Through the chance-or-fate operation of casting nuts or bones a pattern emerges, which yields verses—verses which take place in a magical universe where men, gods & spirits freely mingle, where ritual acts alter the fabric of reality, where sacred precedent is set. No wonder Australian Aborigines call this realm The Dreaming. Western scholars, hung up on the incompatible notion of linear time, take this to be a mythic past. Which The Dreaming includes, not as a remote Back Then, but as one of many strands woven into a cyclic Always, the sacred pulse of the-way-things-are. Here psychic forces act & dance out in the open. Basuto & Yoruba diviners are not fortune tellers but custodians of the preserved lore of The Dreaming. To go in for a divination session is to get an X-ray of the soul—individual & collective. And the medicine is poetry.

The poems & commentaries here are from Technicians of the Sacred by Jerome Rothenberg, accompanied by some culturally related sights & sounds, plus at the end two totally unrelated songs each—modern bedfellows placed here in the spirit of correspondence across ages & cultures.

For an opening act we have a poem of my own, which gives this piece its title, & then Bruce Conner & Patrick Gleeson invite you to “Take the 5:10 to Dreamland”.

Carsten Czarnecki
carstenczarnecki.blogspot.com
Benajarafe, Malaga, Spain
2026

 

Dreamkeeping
by Carsten Czarnecki

 

to give dreams their due
lest they come back as witches

a gang of wild boars
in a mad flight
leaping
across rooftops
as seen from below

a seaport in the old style
looping roads
that meet themselves
& never any lack of moonlight
we call it Killer’s Cove
out on the pier a lone cantina
long burnt-out but standing
here tired killers turn contemplative
who have their mansions in the hills
but do their drinking down below
talking shop in tired voices
tired killers three drinks shy of Tula
& every night quiet as expected death…
blowing smoke into our mezcals
some god is blowing fog across the sea
sunset calms the twitching hand
shopkeeper’s turned curandero
peddles shrunken heads now with a smile
he knows what god has done the shrinking
but that knowledge costs you extra

the climate lays you out
& still I stiffen
bent back held up on a chain of iron vertebrae
(wait, that one’s no dream)

tough guy idling to the tune of tug boats
what is it—just a lapse of attention
the result: my cock betrays me
impregnated the town whore
was made king
& quickly learned
that kingship is to be avoided
like winter & like wine

*****

Take the 5:10 to Dreamland (1976)
by Bruce Conner

Watch the film here

Sometimes it seems a mystery to me what images should be in a film. I collect all kinds, and then I can’t understand why I thought I would want to use them. Sometimes I’ll be editing, and I’ll throw away a strip of film only to find—if I can retrieve it from the wastebasket—that it’s the image that makes the whole movie work. Sometimes one image is required to pull everything together; sometimes I can’t finish a film because I don’t have that one missing key.
I Don’t Go To The Movies Anymore: An Interview with Bruce Conner

But strangely, every time Bruce and I revisited the score in an attempt to restore it to something closer to the original—which we did every few years as new technology emerged—we came away frustrated. What had happened was that the film itself, in an act of agency, had claimed the sound, damaged or not, and this was now “the original soundtrack.” What you’re seeing and hearing is what was intended, although by whom I cannot say.
The Soundtrack of Take the 5:10 to Dreamland by Patrick Gleeson

*****

Bidayuh
(modern-day Sarawak, Malaysia)


Tuku’ Kame’ – Rejang Beuh

 

A List of Bad Dreams Chanted as a Cause & Cure for Missing Souls

To dream that one’s hair is falling out.
To dream that all one’s teeth are falling out.
To dream that one is being saved.
To dream that one is being nursed.
To dream that one is very dirty.
To dream that one is dissolving.
To dream that one is in mourning, as shown by the hair.
To dream that one is being beaten, beaten on the neck, up to the ears,
—–and all about the face.

To dream that she is saying the ngiriyn prayer.
To dream that she is saying the ngirogin prayer.
To dream that she is committing adultery.
To dream that she is being saved.
To dream that she is in the red-hat festival.
To dream that she is putting a red cloth over her shoulders.
To dream that she is wearing, as well as the red cloth, a red hat upon her head.
To dream that she is sitting on the swinging plank.
To dream that she is nursing the young soul.
To dream that she is lying among pieces of ranehary wood.
To dream that she is quarreling.
To dream that she is hitting someone.
To dream that she is involved in a court case.
To dream that she is paying kati banda fines.
To dream that she is answering a man’s proposal of marriage.
To dream that she is replying and going in among things that had been
—–ordered which have just arrived.

To dream that she is separated from her husband.
To dream that she is finished with her husband.
To dream that she is dividing her property.
To dream that she is packing her good belongings.
To dream that she is going away.
To dream that she is resting in the bachelors’ quarters, resting at the top
—–of the bachelors’ quarters.
To dream that she is looking at the stars.
To dream that she is looking at the moon—
looking at the first day of the new moon,
looking at the first day of the dying moon,
looking at the smoky stars,
looking at the moon being swallowed by clouds.

To dream of looking at a beehive.
To dream of being swallowed by flames of fire.
To dream of resting in the old jungle.
To dream of resting on the cemetery grounds.
To dream of being hit by tewai bamboo.
To dream of resting at the foot of the parai palm.
To dream of resting at the pool of paleness.
To dream of resting at the house of the grandmother of Bubot.
To dream of resting at the house of the grandmother of Tauh.
To dream of resting at the house of Kitapung Bannau.
To dream of resting at the large stretch of low-lying land.
To dream of resting at the grove of bemban palms.
To dream of resting at the noisy mountain.
To dream of resting among falling boulders.
To dream of resting among rolling logs.

To dream of resting among rolling stones.
To dream of resting while in a deep hole.
To dream of resting on the slope of a mountain.
To dream of resting in an old jungle.
To dream of resting in a very deep old jungle.

To dream of resting with a coil of young vines.
Resting while sick and suffocating.
To dream of resting in someone’s blacksmith shed.
To dream of resting among beating drums,
the demon’s drum which is flat.
To dream of resting in the dried leaves.
To dream of resting inside the small porcupine hole.
To dream of resting along the wild boar track.
To dream of resting in the deer’s pool.
Of resting on top of an anthill,
resting on top of a hill of white ants.
To dream of resting on a rotten log.
To dream of being chased by a snake.
To dream of being bayed at by a wolf.
To dream of being barked at by the dogs of demons.
To dream of resting inside a hunting shed.
To dream of sleeping at the foot of a betel-nut tree.


Dying traditions in Malaysian Borneo

Commentary

Part of a longer group of prayers used by the Bidayuh (Land Dayaks) of Sarawak, Malaysia, as a means for coming at the cause of illnesses brought on by soul-wandering. The chant accompanies the spirit-medium’s trance journey to the Underworld (Sebayan) & unfolds a catalogue of dream-names—as if to set down all those possibilities so that the real work can begin. A prototype in that sense of those deliberate dream-investigations that poets have pursued throughout the twentieth century & beyond.


Kruder & Dorfmeister and Rockers Hi-Fi – Going Under


Iggy Pop – The Dawn

*****

Basuto
(also known as Sotho/Basotho; modern-day Lesotho, South Africa, Botswana & Namibia)


Letsema Matsela and Basotho Dihoba – Lithoko

 

The Praises of the Falls

The Fall of The Little Creeper
—–is one called “rascal of the circle”
—–is a calf that doesn’t frolic, doesn’t come out of the village
—–then it frolics & goes back to its post

The Swimming of the Sunbird
—–Sunbird
—–secret & daring
—–when you take up a piece of straw
—–& say you imitate the hammerhead
—–though nobody can imitate the hammerhead
—–bird
—–of those who take new clothes
—–into deep waters
—–you are taking up pieces of straw
—–one by one
—–you build above pools
—–the little sunbird
—–mustn’t fall
—–that falls & goes phususu
—–in the pool
—–the patient man
—–is sitting on the drift
—–watching his sins pass by
—–& sees the river reed
—–mocking
—–the reed of the plain
—–it says:
—–when the grass is burning
—–the other one laughing also
—–saying:
—–when the river fills up

The Fall or Swimming of the Molele
—–of
—–mothers
—–of “give me some fat
—–to smear myself”
—–& fat to smear it on the road
—–to wait
—–a long time, not to
—–smear
—–if going to your husband
—–the smooth face of some monkey
—–& the space in front of him
—–those shining stones

The Swimming of the Red Sparrow
—–Red sparrow
—–never be a stranger
—–Stranger with stunted horns
—–& open guilt
—–This big turd was the stranger’s
—–Our headsman’s
—–turd
—–is such a
—–paltry thing

The Fall of Shaping the Hammer
—–some irons eating
—–some others
—–in the pincers
—–the positions of the bushmen’s huts
—–the bushman’s son
—–throwing
—–his arrow
—–is turning his back
—–& hits the eland in the udder
—–& these attract crowds
—–& are facing each other
—–one died at the drift
—–& one in the public places
—–take their hoes
—–& spades
—–let’s bury the witchdoctors

Of the Witchdoctor who Stopped the Pig
by His Cleverness
—–The sky is eating
—–is whispering
—–& eating
—–it roots in the straw
—–that the asparagus may stay with its garbage
—–sky
—–of distant lands
—–& of the hearth
—–now that the sky has stopped
—–raining
—–joy, joy
—–cries the pig
—–& is an animal
—–that grows fat
—–in fair weather

The Masibo Plant of the Power
—–Who doesn’t belong to the powerful
—–doesn’t grow from the power
—–This is the eland
—–& the small antelope
—–& the beast with a mane
—–This eland has bewitched
—–the eland of the shepherds
—–has arisen
—–has taken a new skin
—–Does the cow suck power from her calf?
—–The woman sucks power from her child

The Famous Masibo of the Swimming
—–Swim on the deep waters
—–lie upon them
—–who have no hippos & no little things
—–no beast of prey
—–biting
—–while it moves
—–& coiling itself in a corner
—–only the little hippos were swimming
—–the big ones
—–never swim here anymore
—–Why are the crocodiles
—–fighting in the water?
—–They are fighting for an old
—–crocodile
—–for many talks in the water
—–which says: I do not
—–bite, I only
—–play
—–will bite some other year
—–when the mimosa
—–& the willow tree
—–are growing

The Fame of the Lamp
—–O mother elephant
—–O mother elephant, I’m going blind
—–O mother elephant, I came here in secret
—–O mother elephant, their road was red
—–O mother elephant, there was blood & disorder
—–O mother elephant, who shakes her ear
—–O running elephant

The Fame of the Creepers
—–This is the big creeper
—–whose leaves have fallen
—–We warm ourselves
—–at its embers
—–We use it again
—–You are light
—–the lamp
—–which says:
—–make light for us
—–poor people

The Appearance of the Orchis of the Basutos
—–of the children of one clan
—–& of one who distributes
—–posterity
—–& of the white calabash
—–for remembrance
—–& the distribution of meat
—–of sheep & of kids
—–of the springboks
—–bringing hunger
—–to our bellies

The Lamp of the Seers
—–The angry man
—–fights with his mother-in-law
—–What was the good of those lamps?
—–Seeing wonders
—–every morning
—–your sins passed by
—–& you saw them
—–& saw the child of a cow
—–& of a human being
—–saw them, could tell them
—–apart
—–from the entrails

The Rise of the Cobra
—–He fell on the rock
—–& lay down
—–but he got up with his luggage
—–got up & shook off
—–the dust
—–White head?
—–Wear ornaments
—–White hair is a sign
—–something
—–the ancestors long for
—–fur from the head
—–of a hare
—–would make it
—–This is the last time

 


Song & dance by Basotho men of Lesotho

Commentary

The “praises”—first gathered by the Basuto writer Joas Mapetla—accompany the casting of oracle bones. Their purpose is
(1) To create, as with music, the conditions under which the bones are to be read, i.e., to provide that “coefficient of weirdness” Malinowski spoke of in which the words are music, act upon us before their sense is clear or against the possibility of any fixed meaning;
(2) As open-ended imagery that can then—almost “falsely”—be read as secret closed statements (the functional language of the oracle) in the participants’ search for clues to the unknown: the cause of disease & misfortune, etc.
Mapetla’s description of the bones & the procedures for casting is never clear. There are apparently four to twenty in a set, or litaola: four principal ones from the hoofs & horns of oxen, with lesser bones from ankles & hindlegs of anteaters, springbok, sheep, goats, monkeys, also occasional shells, twigs & stones. The four major bones are designated as greater & lesser male & greater & lesser female, & are read according to the sides on which they fall, direction of fall, positions relative to each other & to the minor bones, etc. The greater male & female have four sides called walking, standing, covering, & dying; the lesser male & female only walking & dying. Here is Mapetla’s description of the casting & “praising”:

When they are divining, the person who comes to ask for this service sweeps the ground where he has to throw them. Then the diviner loosens them from the string and gives them to the one who comes to consult.
This one tosses them and lets them fall on the ground.
Then the diviner examines them carefully in order to see the position they have taken.
When he sees that they have fallen in a certain position, he praises that fall for a good while.
Among the praises he mixes the affairs of people, of (various) things, of animals and sicknesses.
When he has finished the praises, he says to the person who came to consult him: Make me divine, my friend.
This one says: With these words, when you were making the praises, you pointed exactly to my case, and to my sickness.
And the diviner says: So it is, and this special position (of the bones) says the same. Then the diviner gives a charm to the consulting person, and receives a small fee from him (in exchange).

Addenda. (1) In the typical praise-poem the lines or praises are independent units that the poet brings together in a kind of collage. In the present instance, however, it is the fall of the bones that suggests what verses will be used & determines their order. Thus chance—to a greater or lesser degree—serves to program the divining praises much as dice-castings, tarot-readings, random digit tables, etc., take on a structuring & selecting function for some contemporary poets. A comparison with the chance-generated poetry & music of artists like Jackson Mac Low & John Cage would also be useful. (2) The name of a “fall” is generally that of the plant or other remedy to be used in that instance. Most African words that remain in the translations are likewise either plants or proper names—the meaning being fairly evident from the context. (3) The editor originally printed these with some reservations about their accuracy but in the hope that others would be encouraged to do more detailed work on a body of lore & poetry that, carefully assembled, might represent an African I Ching or Book of Changes. The work of Judith Gleason (from A Recitation of Ifa, following) virtually fulfills that hope.


Kid Congo & The Pink Monkey Birds – Conjure Man


Los Lobos – Kiko and the Lavender Moon

*****

Yoruba
(modern-day Nigeria, Benin & Togo, plus a vast diaspora)


Bata Igba Ensemble of Kétou, Benin – Repertoire for Oro and Ifa in Kétou

 

Ika Meji

Greetings for the sacrifice!
Now let us praise Ika Meji—
Can you see how Ifa came to this designation?
Up against the wall’s no place
—–to extend “long life!” to your elders;
Coming straight on,
—–gazing vaguely away
—–signifies a voracious visitor;
Might look as though I were up to no good,
—–followed by all of you; stay home,
—–said the snake to his hungry children

Made Ifa for Slim-pickings,
—–stubby little fellow who will survive
—–twenty thousand years in this world
—–if he sacrifice
—–ten pigeons, a scroungy cock, and ten bags of cowries.
He sacrificed, they made Ifa leaves for him,
—–and he did not die—
—–unlike the broom swept into a wisp,
—–he stayed together
We have sacrificed efficaciously.

Now let’s get on to row two:
King of the counting house
don’t count me
Turn around, misery,
count me out;
Snake-eyes,
if we’re being counted,
why’d ya call me?
Accountable for no-account?
No one’s seen me sin;
no wickedness on me.
Mother counts the baskets
Father counts the bins
One by one they counted us down,
but we fixed them.
Ifa, hearing this:
How is it all of you who live
in this rickety town
have icky names?
‘Cause hicks are what we called ourselves
till you hit the scene.
So that’s the reason, Ifa said,
All your lives you’ve been higgledy-piggledy, sick, sick, sick,
like housewives rushing before the storm
picking laundry off limbs.
Now go distribute money to snails,
for it’s their shells that spiral in—
like Mother Yemoja making medicine
with viper’s head. You dig?
She covered herself with prickly cloth;
and when this hedgehog edged over to sit
beside her victim, they said:
Go feed grass to that horse
standing by the corn bin.
When hedgehog hit
it was beancake-vendor
fell down dead.
Now snail turned gravedigger;
viper mourned the death
of beancake-vendor.

Creeping snail upon snail
adds insult to injury;
If witch’s snare can’t smell the entrance,
snail within will survive forever.
Will dog bite the heel of bush cow?
Never! We sneaked out of the way
to our rickety town
early in the morning.

Trading for years and nothing to show for it
—–called on
Axe strikes tree, definitively,
—–diviner of the house of Orunmila.
Secret arrived on foot,
—–blessed the rackety-packety inhabitants of Ika;
and when he had done,
we praised the diviner, saying:
Secret said I will have money,
—–and here is money.
Axe strikes tree, definitively,
—–as blade’s edge
—–is the tongue of secrets.
Diviner says I will have a wife—
—–Here she is.
Axe strikes tree
—–Power sits
—–in the mouth
—–of Ifa
Diviner says I will have offspring—
—–Here are children.
—–His tongue speaks
—–with authority:
Diviner says I will build me a house—
—–See, over there—
—–Secret’s spit is commanding.
Diviner says I will see good things—
—–There they are, everywhere, everything—
—–Energy fills the speech of diviner.
Then he started singing:
Spiky fingers —————-grip iniquity
Aka leaves ——————-bind hands of mine enemy
————Reverse wickedness!
Close their hands ———- globe, peel, pound, knead
Till there’s no remainder!
May they die young!
Spiny cloth ——————-slim leaves
bend and twist ————–till there be
no vise in ———————hostility
——————-So be it!
Greetings! May our sacrifice see us through this thicket.

 


The Ifa Divination System

Commentary

The name of both a god & a system of divination, Ifa uses a cord of eight split seeds or sixteen randomly thrown palm-nuts to summon the poetic voice of the Yoruba oracle. In Judith Gleason’s abbreviated description:

Each oracular configuration [or casting], known as Odu, is the product of sixteen times sixteen possibilities, which means that when the diviner (“father-of-secrets” or babalawo in Yoruba) casts for you, any one of 256 signs may appear. Further, each of these signs has many “roads” radiating out from it. To these roads are attached verses (ese), which are legion. When a certain Odu shows up on the board, the diviner will begin to recite some of these verses. When what he is saying seems to apply to your case, then a correct determination has been made. (Leaf & Bone)

The standard structure of the Ifa divination poems (“often highly lyrical & obscure in their references”) is to start with the citation of a previous, often mythic, casting, to name the diviner or diviners involved, then the name of the fictional client, the nature of his/her problem, the prescription suggested by the Odu, & the previous outcome. But further elements can enter through the intercalation of “songs and praises expressive of the ‘character’ of the Odu . . . as well as symbolic digressions on the meaning of the oracular system itself.” The result is an open-ended & complex series of language structures: a major example of the human capacity for intricate design & concept. It is also—as discussed in the previous commentary—a still existing form of poesis that functions on the level of such divinatory/synchronistic works as the Chinese I Ching.
In the Odu presented here, Orunmila is another name of Ifa as god, Yemoja that of an orisha, or deity. The name “ika meji” suggests “fingers” & “cruelty”—& a sense of danger & randomness (“existence as scattershot”) pervades the whole poem. Gleason writes further:

Ecologically, Ika Meji is the world of the forest floor envisaged as a thin substratum of poisonous invective and countervenom, a world of baneful creepers turned snares, of treacherous twigs and prickers, a place where everything must be constantly on its guard, for anything could suddenly reveal its treacherous nature. Hypocrisy and evil intention are revealed by the diviner’s proverbial names in the first verse of this recitation. The client in the first case is a poor, small creature, barely existing; in the second sequence the client is an entire town called Ika, which, for years “tied” by witchcraft, had been under the spell of its own name—a miserable place whose occupants, “trading for years with nothing to show for it,” have, justifiably, no sense of self-respect, no ability to get themselves together without Ifa’s help. Here is the twilight world of incantation, consciousness reduced to rigid reiteration of protective formulas—brilliantly conveyed in the Yoruba by an unremitting cacophony of “k” sounds: ka, aka, akika, akara, akeke, akaka, and so on, with tonal shifts left to point the way to meanings that are always verging on the meaningless. . . . The scene sounds like the song of Cock Robin turned tongue twister and illuminated by Beatrix Potter’s sinister wit. The avatars of this wicked odu are viper, hedgehog, and snail. (A Recitation of Ifa)


Howlin’ Wolf – Wang Dang Doodle


Miles Davis – Miles Runs the Voodoo Down

 

 

*

p.s. Hey. This weekend maestro Carsten leads us on a trip to Dreamland, and, if I’m any indication, you will come out the exit wiser. Please give it your local all, and thank you ever so much, generous guest-host. ** jay, Hey! I’m doing pretty alright, thanks. Marathon, like in running in shorts and a muscle T type marathon? Wow. I hope bystanders hold out beaucoup little Evian bottles or Gatorade or whatever fuels you. How was that? Joblessness sounds pretty scary, but I’m sure you’ll bolster him through it. Yeah, some segment of 4chan had nothing better to do than have paranoid theories about my humble blog for a short bit. Bon weekend, pal. ** _Black_Acrylic, Major luck on the potential windfall. I’m in a kind of same situation because the publisher of ‘The Sluts’ hasn’t been sending me my royalties for years, and now they’re finally getting pushed by my new agent to pony up. Wouldn’t be Stephen King-level numbers by any stretch, but it sure would help. ** Carsten, Hey. Thanks a billion for what’s up above! The 90s era Makhmalbaf films are by far his best, I think. And, well, I think most people think. The new Benning is magnificent. Man, you gotta love France. It was a very large theater, and it was completely packed, and everyone stayed for the whole film and applauded loudly after, and it was a very demanding structuralist film. I don’t think you’d see a Benning film get remotely that level of interest and respect even in LA and NYC. Paris tends to go pretty quiet culturally starting in mid-July and through August. Parisians like to split town for the late summer. Even quite a number of stores close for vacation. I don’t know at all really, but I think you would have a pretty difficult time finding a place in Paris for under 1000 a month, especially in heavy tourist time. That’s just a guess, though. There might be something out there. Enjoy the weekend you made! ** Tosh Berman, Hi Tosh! Listen, I’m in seemingly solid health and the news is frazzling and exhausting me like crazy. The helplessness re: the evil is really disturbing. Obviously I hope the next hospital stint is tolerable and massively successful. I will be keeping up via your generous substack verbiage and radiating love from your second home (in my mind at least, or at least a competitor for Tokyo). ** Steve, I totally agree with you about his Iran films versus the later ones. And thank you for the wisdom and background. I don’t know his wife’s films at all. Yeah, it’s supposedly an easy physical exam. I don’t have a doctor, and you have to do it way out in the suburbs somewhere, I don’t know why. This ‘renewal’ is more serious than the initial visa. I can get French social security/health care if I get it, and it starts a path towards longer term residency. Everyone, Please add three new reviews by Mr. Steve to your weekend input. Here he reviews Julia Ducournau’s ALPHA, and here he takes on Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s 1998 SERPENT’S PATH, released in U.S. theaters for the first time this week, and finally here he shares his thoughts on Raye’s album THIS MUSIC MAY CONTAIN HOPE. ** HaRpEr //, Yeah, very intriguing, especially because it’s such a strong, singular film. If you find out what her story is, I’d be curious to know. That whole era of Jost’s films is great. ‘Last Chance for a Slow Dance’ is excellent, and it might be easier to find in decent shape. I steer way from 4chan, but I did look in when that contingent was freaking on my blog. They decided because of the slave posts that I was running a sex/snuff trafficking ring or something. But then they realised I was just some weird fag novelist, and they moved on. I hope you can get out of that town before too, too long, pal. That’s disgusting, and knowing you’re just surrounded by dumbasses doesn’t help, I know. ** Okay. Let Carsten whisk you away until I see you next meaning on Monday.

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