The blog of author Dennis Cooper

Month: November 2021 (Page 6 of 13)

Guns 2

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Jessica Fenlon Ungun (2013)
‘6:36 animation, which is built of 4,000+ broken / glitch images of handguns, an observation of how gun talk “devolves into shouting matches that shatter social relationships.”’

 

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Andrew Ellis Johnson Rehearsal (2014)
‘Human ears, cast in marble, are plugged with live bullets that have not yet punctured the absence they flank, a silent emptiness that may represent incomprehension or denial, or those departed – whether by suicide or homicide. It consists of metal bookends, cast cultured marble, and live bullets, 5 x 5 x 4.625 inches.’

 

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Skylar Fein Kurt Cobong (2014)
Mossberg 500 shotgun, bong, tape

 

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Mel Chin Cross for the Unforgiven (2012)
‘A Maltese cross of the Crusades, made from eight AK-47s, the international symbol of resistance to the West.’

Arthur (2014)
‘This is a Looking (down the barrel) Portrait of infamous killer mobster, Arthur Flegenheimer, AKA “Dutch Schultz”. Historical criminals like him, with their guns and larger than life notorious behavior, contribute much to the American fascination with guns, violence, and gangster attitude. The barrels of two .38 Caliber Colt “Specials” form the empty deadly eyes while the grips of the guns emerge from the back of the head. The guns are locked in this portrait of concrete, a commentary how guns are embedded deep and dense in the head of our own culture.’

 

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Adam Zaretsky Gene Gun (2007)
‘In the Transgenic Orange Pheasant project, Adam Zaretsky proposes in a letter to His Royal Highness Prince Willem-Alexander to create a “Royal Dutch Transgenic Breeding Facility at the Gorleaus Laboratory in the University of Leiden. These orange pheasants could be intended for the royal hunt. In this installation, four images of transgenic pheasants are shown, alongside a genegun, shotgun, the letter to His Royal Highness Prince Willem-Alexander and two videos.’

 

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Daniel Joseph Martinez George and Daniel in an insane world … (2012)
‘It’ is an anonymous hand that fires a gun to the head of visual artist Daniel Joseph Martinez (Los Angeles, 1957). It’s a huge hyper-realistic photo which carries the viewer to a stereotyped violent world: Colombia, Iraq, Palestine, Afghanistan … However it’s none of these places. It’s anywhere. Maybe Los Angeles, maybe Tijuana…’

 

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Nikki Luna Play Ground (2016)
‘Philippines-based artist and activist Nikki Luna presents a series of cast resin lace sculptures, shaped from actual guns in past violent incidences. Their ghostly appearances act as shadows of the history, trauma, and prevailing issues surrounding culture and gender.’

 

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Liu Bolin Gun Rack (2013)
‘World renowned performance artist Liu Bolin, aka the Invisible Man, is back doing what he does best: disappearing into his environment. This time, the artist lends his body to be covered in paint in front of a wall mounted with artillery. The Gun Rack performance took place at Eli Klein Fine Art in New York, where Bolin was assisted by a team of four painters, camouflaging him into the background.’

 

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Jonathan Ferrara Excalibur No More (2014)
Mossberg 12 gauge shotgun, Colorado river rock.

 

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Renee Stout Baby’s First Gun (1998)
‘“Baby’s First Gun” by Renee Stout juxtaposes an archaic tin gun toy against a cookie-cut-out effigy of a smiling black girl in a pink dress, inside a white-washed wooden box. “Society prepares the crime, the criminal commits it,” reads a fortune cookie missive at the girl’s feet, its somber proclamation flanked by two little graphic smiley faces, whose expressions match that of the main figure.’

 

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Sander Leemans Shooting Gallery (2007)
‘The visitor shoots with a carnival rifle at the target in a container. Meanwhile the visitor is filmed from the other side and projected on a big screen above his/her head. The projection differs from the actual situation, it seems you’re shooting from behind a military roadblock. When shooting and hitting one of the targets the projection on the screen changes from the shooting visitor behind a roadblock to a short movie. The short movie corresponds with the target one hits. For instance, the helicopter target corresponds with a short movie of an exploding helicopter in Afghanistan, the farmer corresponds with a short sample of the infamous The Apache Killing Video, Buddha corresponds with the exploding Buddhas of Bamiyan in Afghanistan.’

 

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Luke Dubois Take a Bullet for the City (2014)
‘Dubois’ Take a Bullet for the City was an installation which incorporated elements of sound, sculpture, and data visualization. The installation consists of a Walther PPk 9mm hand gun, a steel plate, an engineered mechanism to operate the trigger of the gun, and a minicomputer to pull data from New Orleans Police Department. Over the course of the month the piece was installed, the gun would fire a blank on approximately a week delay every time the NOPD received a report of a firearm discharge.’

 

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Adam Mysock Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun (Last Judgment) After: Hans Memling’s “The Last Judgment” Triptych (c. late 1460s), Bambi’s mother from Disney’s ‘Bambi’ (2014)
‘Looking Down the Barrel of the Gun forces viewers to do just that (normally quite unadvisable) to see tiny paintings of heaven and hell by Hans Memling, and a drawing of Bambi’s mother, in reference to the artist’s first realization of the dangers of guns.’

The Last Six, Under Six, Murdered by a Gun in the Sixth (2014)
‘It is comprised of six bullet holes, within which there are six miniature portraits of the last six children under six killed by gun violence in the sixth police district of New Orleans, Louisiana.’

 

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Caroline Brisset Guns (2018)
steel, Corten steel

 

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Nicholas Varney Onegin (2014)
‘Onegin is named after the Alexander Pushkin book “Eugene Onegin,” which tells of a man whose life was led in the great glamour of the time in palace parties and languid to torrid love affairs. Onegin killed his best friend in an incident over a woman. The gun of cause transformed his life and gave birth to Tchaikovsky’s greatest opera. Juxtaposition is the key element to punctuating any precious stone. Set a diamond in wood and watch it become more striking as a result of the wood serving as its foil. The stone seems brighter and gains importance and a new dialogue begins.’

 

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Neil Alexander Growing Up in a Gun Culture, My Son (1996-2014)
‘I’ve been making portraits of my son Calder since the very moment he came into this world. Lifted from his mother’s womb and placed on the scale, his pediatric nurse took a measuring tape to him. Click went the shutter. The two images in this exhibition, taken eighteen years apart, are the only formal images I’ve ever made of him naked and the only two of him holding a gun.’

 

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Roy Lichtenstein Smoking Gun (1968)
‘A revamped version of an earlier work titled Pistol. It even features the exact same hand and gun. Lichtenstein replaced the print’s original red background with a blue background to create the perfect patriotic picture within the bright red borders of “TIME.” The positioning of gun to be aimed at the viewer is supposed to mimic Uncle Sam’s pointing finger in the famous WWI recruitment poster. “I Want You to Own a Gun!”’

 

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Papas Fritas Ladrillo Angular (2014)
‘Francisco Papas Fritas, the Chilean artist behind a controversial installation in which the dictator Augusto Pinochet dies “machine-gunned” by a hooded student, told Efe today that all his works “are a called to civil disobedience ”, but not to violence. “I think this is the only mechanism that can make rulers understand that citizens are the owners of their power and that they are where they are to manage our goods and our wealth,” said the artist.’

 

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Claes Oldenburg The Ray Gun Wing (1978)
‘The Ray Gun Wing has the shape of a ‘ray gun’, a laser weapon with its origins in science fiction. Visitors move through the space like a laser beam: The Ray Gun Wing is entered through an opening in the handle and can be exited through the barrel.’

 

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Peter Sarkisian Recoil (2014)
‘Referencing both Film Noir and still-life composition, Peter Sarkisian’s Recoil begins as a 1940’s surreal tableau, in which a gun rests with other objects on a floral pattern tablecloth. A cinematic element is revealed, as embroidered flowers on the tablecloth appear to flutter gently, then pull free and tumble into the gun barrel. More surface detail soon becomes caught in the suction and is drawn toward the gun; the figure of a man struggles while being dragged from the frame of a photograph; text is ripped from the pages of a book; an egg drains from a ceramic plate. Each element in turn disappears into the muzzle, leaving behind a blank diorama of lifeless grey props.’

 

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Thomas Lelu What’s up Doc? (2019)

 

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Tsuyoshi Ozawa Vegetable Weapon (2011)
‘”Vegetable Weapons” is a series of photographic portraits of young women holding weapons made from the vegetables needed to create recipes typical of their culture. The ingredients are then prepared as a meal to be shared between the artist and participants.’

 

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Pedro Reyes Return to Sender (2020)
‘“Return to Sender” presents three music boxes for which he has repurposed gun parts: Disarm Music Box (Glock/Mozart), Disarm Music Box (Beretta/Vivaldi), and Disarm Music Box (Karabiner/Matter). These new works perform fragments of tunes from composers from the countries where the guns were produced.’

 

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Gavin Turk Double Gold Pop Gun (2013)
Silkscreen and gold leaf on paper

 

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Emory Douglas Black Panther, June 27, 1970 (1970)
‘Emory Douglas was the Revolutionary Artist of the Black Panther Party and subsequently became its Minister of Culture, part of the national leadership. He created the overall design of the Black Panther, the Party’s weekly newspaper, and oversaw its layout and production until the Black Panthers disbanded in 1979–80. Throughout the ’60s and ’70s, Douglas made countless artworks, illustrations, and cartoons, which were reproduced in the paper and distributed as prints, posters, cards, and even sculptures. All of them utilized a straightforward graphic style and a vocabulary of images that would become synonymous with the Party and the issues it fought for.’

 

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David Cotterrell Prototype II (1998)
‘Sharing more in common with Maillardet’s Automaton than Apple’s G4, Cotterrell’s Prototype II is a mechanical device of finely honed gears, cogs and wheels made by the artist in the London workshops of the Society of Model and Experimental Engineers. Driving a crank at painfully slow speed, the machine cocks the guns, the muzzles of which face directly into one another. The machine’s slipping pulleys continuously spin the chambers until the cocking mechanism traps the chamber in preparation for firing. A complete cycle involving the cocking and subsequent firing of one blank round into the partnered revolver takes 5 minutes. The visual impact of two revolvers staring down their barrels at one another is both chilling and humorous: there is a certain sense of glee in watching a gun shoot one of its own. Essential to the piece is the time it requires of its audience. As the minutes creep past, we begin to feel jumpy. What will happen? Will the whole apparatus come crashing to the ground? Will it blow up and take us along with it? In order to know first hand, we must wait and while waiting, we are forced to look. The machinery is displayed on the exterior of its plinth, inviting study from its audience. Like the internal workings of a clock, Prototype II fascinates with its process: it becomes easy to focus on the movement of individual parts, forgetting that, somehow, these movements will all culminate in an act which is potentially lethal.’

 

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Lutz Bacher Firearms (2019)
‘The last completed artwork by the American artist Lutz Bacher (1943-2019), FIREARMS is a single work comprised of 58 framed pigment prints, each depicting a different model of gun taken from pages of a manual on gun repair and maintenance. Like a typology of arms, the prints show a direct profile portrait of each gun, together with its name, country of origin, manufacturer, cartridge size, magazine capacity, overall length, height, barrel length, and weight. A paragraph of text describes each gun’s design origin, key features, and history of use. Many guns were developed for the armies and police forces active in and around the First and Second World Wars; certain models are older and historical, others are descendants that evolved from earlier designs, and some are new, state-of-the-art models. They come from around the world-Italy, Great Britain, Austria, Japan, Switzerland, various parts of the Unites States, etc. Hung alphabetically by model name in a line-up around the gallery, the 58 plates reveal the conditions of these violent objects from the 20th Century, explaining in direct, matter-of-fact language the technology, craftsmanship, and use of these weapons in the contexts of warfare, police forces, sporting, self-defense, and as goods designed and proffered for international trade and personal collection.’

 

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Catharina van de Ven BRT-CFM (2016)
high polished bronze

 

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Robert Longo Body Hammer (1993)
‘large charcoal portraits of the most popular handguns at the time.’

 

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Constantine Zlatev The Candy Machine (2013 – 2016)
‘The Candy Machine was made by disabling a Winchester Model 94 rifle and taking advantage of its ingenious, once revolutionary, lever-action reloading mechanism. The idea for this art installation originates from the popular commodity vending machines, drawing a parallel between the accessibility & ubiquity of weapons today to the ease of procuring candy from a street side vending machine. The installation uses a crankshaft system with a small stepper motor to automate the Winchester ’94 receiver mechanism, which has been modified to work with specially designed candy capsules. The gun magazine can store 7 ‘candies’ and each time a token is dropped in, the mechanical receiver dispenses a candy in lieu of a bullet shell.’

 

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David Hess Gun Show (2019)
‘Four years ago, amid the daily headlines of mass shootings and gun violence, I began building an arsenal of 100 mock assault rifles. The pieces are placed on canvas tarps in rows and viewers are encouraged to walk between them. My mission is to integrate this arsenal into the mainstream public consciousness as a springboard for political and social dialogue.’

 

 

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p.s. Hey. ** David, I’ll check my local listings. Sounds great, nice. The Italian interview is kind of good, but, you know, there are a lot of English interviews with out there and more coming. The bank thing/mess seems to be over, amazingly. I’m free, I think. Yes, my sister is very nice. Our relationship is fraught, of course, but, yes, she’s nice for sure. You have sisters. What’s their scoop? You could offer that Nilsen victim’s body on one of the slave sites I search, and I think you’d get a lot of takers. Hope your post-bed stint was a charmer. ** Dominik, Hi!!! Well, the bank mess seems to be over! Hard to believe, but it seems so. Whoop! Ha ha, yeah, the covid wedding guy was the brother of my sister’s husband even. She’s okay. She was vaxed, so it was one of those mild-ish if actual bouts. It was a sneaky love, wasn’t it? I don’t remember why I felt so sneaky yesterday. Ha ha, aw, your innocent love was much sweeter. Love coming across your love’s sleeping date and having a dark night of the soul before somewhat reluctantly calling him an Uber and helping him into the back seat, G. ** Sypha, Well, there should be no ‘shoulds’ in this world, but I think you’d be A-okay with more Millhauser under your belt. Hoping for a story “better than the original” seems like an act of self-sabotage. That is a lot of story in your bro’s novel. My head is spinning just trying to keep track of the twists and turns, which could be a good thing. I like the Fenway Park turn. It’s so random. I like randomness. ** Bill, I think the letter did the trick, and thank you for being so thoughtful through this whole thing. Sci-fi art porn is definitely tricky to pull off. I can’ think of one. Back in the 80s, I co-wrote a sci-fi porn movie with a big gay porn director of the time called ‘Boys from Outer Space’ that never got made, which seems a blessing in retrospect, although it did have the makings of an inadvertent camp classic. Factrix! Very nice! ** David Ehrenstein, He is, yes, indeed! ** l@rst, Hey, big L! ‘Rushmore’ is a perfect movie, I agree. Another perfect movie that some friends and I were talking about last night is ‘Fargo’, at least by my reckoning. Millhauser’s great. I’d start with ‘Edwin Mullhouse’ if you haven’t read it. Big up via-a-vis Thursday. ** Misanthrope, Yep, l@rst came back, how cool is that? Unbelievably the Tax Board thing seems to have been completely resolved, I’m shocked. And waiting for the other shoe to fall, as my grandma used to say. Or maybe it was my mom. ** Brian, Howdy, Brian. Millhauser is wonderful. If you don’t mind tackling a whole novel, his ‘Edwin Mullhouse’ is a fucking classic. So sorry about the ghosting. What’s with people? His loss, not that that helps much. Oh, wow, you’re already almost heading the door? That was short, or, wow, it feels short, but time is … mysterious. I’m glad it’s mostly been fruitful. I bet there’s all kind of payoff you don’t even feel yet. ‘Lancelot’ was the first Bresson I saw, and it made my head and, well, the rest of me, explode on site. I’m so extremely happy to read you speak so passionately about Bresson. Objectively speaking, which isn’t possible, I know, I do think it’s possible that ‘Mouchette’ is his best film. It’s pretty unbelievable. I think I’m out of the Tax Board-destructed woods as of today. We’ll see, but I think so. Man oh man. I’m very curious about what I’ll think of ‘Titane’ too. It’s so divisive. I don’t know anyone who loved it. I know people who liked it pretty well. I do know people who really hated it. Yeah, curious. It would be a boon if you commenting here more often fits happily into your schedule, needless to say. But it’s all good. I hope you have an amazing today. ** Okay. I found some more guns and ‘guns’ for you. See you tomorrow.

Spotlight on … Steven Millhauser Dangerous Laughter (2008)

 

‘Perhaps sound is only an insanity of silence, a mad gibber of empty space grown fearful of listening to itself and hearing nothing.’ — Steven Millhauser

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Who

‘Steven Millhauser is perhaps one of modern American fiction’s most elusive characters. When his novel, Martin Dressler, won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1997, Millhauser told an interviewer that it would not change his life one bit – “I dare it to,” he was quoted as saying. The prize brought many of his older books back into print. As the patina of the prize faded however, they slowly retreated from the shelves and back into the hands of the small but devoted following he has always enjoyed.’ — ric.edu

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About

‘Steven Millhauser doesn’t traffic in emotional upheaval or interpersonal conflict. Most fiction writers try to make characters seem like real people, but Millhauser flattens them, giving his books the paradoxical effect of seeming realer than reality. For him, meticulous observation does the work of psychology. Millhauser is also our foremost animist: in his stories, mannequins walk out of department store windows and figures in paintings knock hats off innocent bystanders. His vehicles for these effects are the parable and the confession. There is a disquieting quiet to every Millhauser sentence that makes it immediately recognizable, a feeling that each was recorded for posterity by the last man living.’ — D.T. Max

‘Phenomenal clarity and rapacious movement are only two of the virtues of Millhauser’s Dangerous Laughter, which focuses on the misery wrought by misdirected human desire and ambition. The citizens who build insulated domes over their houses in ‘The Dome’ escalate their ambitions to great literal and figurative heights, but the accomplishment becomes bittersweet. The uncontrollably amused adolescents in the book’s title story, who gather together for laughing sessions, find something ultimately joyless in their mirth. As in earlier works like The Barnum Museum, Millhauser’s tales evolve more like lyrical essays than like stories; the most breathlessly paced sound the most like essays. The painter at the center of ‘A Precursor of the Cinema’ develops from entirely conventional works to paintings that blend photographic realism with inexplicable movement, to—something entirely new. Similarly, haute couture dresses grow in ‘A Change in Fashion’ until the people beneath them disappear, and the socioeconomic tension Millhauser induces is as tight as a corset. Though his exaggerated outlook on contemporary life might seem to be at once uncomfortably clinical and fantastical, Millhauser’s stories draw us in all the more powerfully, extending his peculiar domain further than ever.’ — PW

 

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Further

‘The Ambition of the Short Story’, an essay by Steven Millhauser
Steven Millhauser Resource @ Answers.com
Steven Millhauser page @ Facebook
‘Getting Closer’, a story by Steven Millhauser @ The New Yorker
‘Mermaid Fever’, a story by Steven Millhauser @ Harpers
Podcast: Alec Baldwin reads Steven Millhauser’s ‘The Dome’
Podcast: Cynthia Ozick reads Steven Millhauser
Steven Millhauser interviewed @ Bomb
‘Dangerous Laughter’ reviewed @ Fanzine
Steven Millhauser’s books @ Bookfinder

 

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Extras


Steven Millhauser Reads From His Work


‘Prospies, Steven Millhauser and Chocolate Milk’


Steven Millhauser: 2012 National Book Festival


Trailer: ‘The Illusionist’, based on Steven Millhauser’s novel

 

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Interview

 

Would you care to comment on the reasons for your fascination with the world of adolescence?

Steven Millhauser: What’s fascinating about adolescence is that it’s an in‑between state. It feels a tug in two directions: back toward the completed world of childhood, from which it is permanently banished, and forward toward the unknown realm of adulthood, which it both craves and fears. Because it’s an in‑between state, adolescence is fluid, unformed, unsettled, impermanent—in a sense, it doesn’t exist at all. Fiction conventionally presents adolescence as a time of sexual awakening, but for me it feels like the very image of spirit in all its restless striving.

One suggestion I was tempted to make in the book I wrote on your work was that one founding, permanent crisis in your texts consists in the contradictory desire to find a form for dreams and things and a refusal to see this necessary form solidify into anything permanent, a permanent struggle between form and dissolution. How widely have I erred?

SM: Not widely, not narrowly, not at all. One thing I learned from your book—and I learned lots of things—was how often I write about dissolution. It hadn’t struck me before. Why this continual return to images of disappearance, of fading away, of dissolving? It must be that dissolution is the necessary other side of permanence, its logical contradiction. It’s also a fact in the world: the loveliest snowman melts away, civilizations crumble, galaxies die. Against this universal principle of dissolution, the urge for un‑dissolution, for permanence, asserts itself. Form is the response of the spirit to the experience of dissolution.

Is your insistence on dream and the imagination connected with a concern for any kind of transcendence?

SM: No and yes. If by “transcendence” you mean something religious or mystical, then the answer is no. But “transcendence” is a tricky word. Its roots suggest a climbing‑across, a rising‑above, a going‑beyond. In this sense, dream and imagination are nothing but acts of transcendence, since they carry us beyond the limits of immediate sensation. In the same way, memory is also an act of transcendence. But I would make a distinction between secondary imagining and dreaming, and primary imagining and dreaming. The secondary form is whimsical, ignorant, a little bored, a little frivolous—it seeks only distraction. The primary form, though playful like all acts of mind, is radically serious. It seeks to go beyond immediate sensation because it doesn’t believe that sensation fully accounts for the astonishing, ungraspable event called the world. In this sense, dream and imagination are methods of investigating the nature of things, they are precise instruments for exploring reality. But enough, and more than enough. For someone who prefers silence, I’ve been talking far too much. It must be your fault.

Let me be guilty all the way, then: your texts often refer to “something dubious” in the desire of the imagined spectators to “forbidden passions” that “cannot be named.” Pointing as they seem to do to a fascination for the erotic and the deadly, should these mentions, however, be read more widely to suggest a collective desire for further “unspeakable practices,” or are they, less topically, meant to underline the somber side of any imaginative act?

SM: Both; but the second especially. Imagination has the violence and danger of all powerful things. Reason continually comes up against limits, it’s in fact an acknowledgment of limits, but imagination is unstoppable, it wants to smash limits out of sheer exuberance. Its cry is always the same : More! More! The brightest, most playful act of imagination casts a dark shadow.

Quite often in your work you switch back and forth, or rather you oscillate, between imitation and invention, realism and imagination. Does this oscillation constitute or otherwise help you to bring about a new avenue of approach to what you call “the blazing thing that deserves the name of reality”?

SM: It’s interesting to me that you describe what I do as oscillation, since I think of myself as often doing something a bit different: beginning in a conventional way, a way that seems to promise the familiar pleasures or boredoms of realist fiction, and then swerving into something else. But whether I do what I think I do, or in fact oscillate, it’s indeed a method that helps me get at whatever it is I’m trying to get at.

Once, when asked to describe your work, you responded by calling it “enigmatic realism.” Could you expand a little on this enigmatic answer? What is the place of the mysterious in your exploration of the real? Revelation, or clarification, seems to play an important role in your work. How do you articulate revelation in tandem with your profound respect for the shadowy sides of the real?

SM: I was trying to be as enigmatic as possible. But you’re right that revelation, by which I mean something like a secular version of religious vision, feels crucial to my sense of art. I would even argue that the end of all art is revelation. But because there is no final truth to be revealed, no godhead hidden behind the forms of Nature, the revelation can at best shadow forth an intimation of something that can be shown in no other way—or perhaps, if I may adopt your terms, it might be said that revelation, far from dispersing the shadowy sides of the real, reveals precisely those shadowy sides. Is this an enigmatic answer? I hope so.

In an interview you talk about the idea/vision dichotomy : “If I truly wanted to present ideas, I’d write essays. What drives me to write a story is something closer to a picture or vision that I want to complete. I understand that this picture isn’t without meaning, but the meaning is buried in it and works in subterranean ways.” Do your short stories, like your creators’ miniatures or museum-like architectures, reiterate the importance of leaving a picture incomplete so as to endow meaning with a mysterious, metamorphic life of its own?

SM: I don’t adhere to a relentless esthetic of incompletion, if that’s what you mean. But yes, of course, certain kinds of completion are harmful. What’s important is finding the necessary balance between the exhaustive, on the one hand, and the suggestive, on the other. I wouldn’t trust a writer who claimed to know exactly how this is done.

I would like to ask some questions about the craft of writing. In your stories, there is usually a complicated set of problems expressed with some extraordinary clarity. Is this combination of precision and complexity in your work something that you have to work at consciously?

SM: Exactly what brings a story into being remains elusive to me. I’m happy to let it remain elusive. Certainly, once a story has emerged from wherever stories emerge, I work at it relentlessly so that it can become itself as completely as possible. I’m conscious of achieving or failing to achieve certain effects, but that consciousness is often little more than an almost physiological sense of rightness or wrongness. At a certain stage of revision I’m definitely aware of trying to make my language more precise, but the struggle for precision is itself controlled by something deeper that I can’t define and don’t question. And precision is a tricky business. As your own Robbe-Grillet once put it: “Rien n’est plus fantastique que la précision.” As for complexity: complexity alone holds no interest for me. But a precise complexity, a vital complexity—now that is something worth striving for.

You often resort to lists in your short stories. Although the juxtaposition of words often appears heterogeneous, do you organize words according to a certain pattern?

SM: Any system for creating lists would quickly reveal itself as tediously mechanical. But a complete lack of system, a randomness, would be just as bad. The crucial thing about a list is that it must suggest the exhaustive without the possibility of being exhaustive. The exhilarating challenge is to combine smallness and vastness—to imply vastness through smallness, completeness through incompleteness. The items in a list must also harmonize and clash with one another in a way that remains lively, even though a list is inherently boring. A list is a kind of exercise in overcoming impossibilities—that’s what I find so seductive.

In Dangerous Laughter, the maker of miniatures “seemed to sense dimly, just out of reach beyond his inner sight, a farther kingdom. […] He confessed to himself that it was less a seeing than a desire gradually hardening into a certainty.” Do you feel the same way when you are starting a story? That is, do you know beforehand where you are heading, or do you follow your desire to write until it coalesces into a finished piece of work? Do you start with a small, single image in your mind and then enlarge it or explore it, or do you set out more or less with a grasp of the whole?

SM: When I was in my early twenties, I began writing as soon as I had a single image and a vague sense of what I wanted to do. It’s a very youthful, very clumsy way of going about it. I now don’t begin until I know a great deal about the still unwritten story, though I don’t know and don’t want to know everything. To put it another way : the business of knowing only a little, and then knowing a little more, and a little more, now takes place almost entirely in my mind, as well as in notebook jottings, as I slowly prepare for the act of writing. To write down a story while not knowing anything about it, not having any idea at all where you are going, strikes me as ludicrous. It’s also not believable. Writers like to claim such things all the time, but I remain skeptical.

 

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Book

Steven Millhauser Dangerous Laughter
Knopf

‘Steven Millhauser’s latest collection opens with a story about Tom and Jerry—that’s right, the cartoon characters. But ‘Cat ’n’ Mouse’ doesn’t resort to easy pop-cultural winking at the reader. Instead, Millhauser portrays this manic animated world with precise, flat descriptions that are more akin to Chekhov than Loony Tunes. It’s a risky opener, but what could have been cutesy nostalgia turns out to be a tale of concentrated dread. At the end, Jerry escapes the cat’s grasp by erasing him with a handy handkerchief. Only then does he understand that in wiping away his hunter, he’s rendered his own life meaningless.

‘The mouse’s realization distills a theme that recurs throughout Millhauser’s work: the possibility that our imaginations might make actual life obsolete. In the new volume, a master miniaturist creates works so small that no one can actually see them; a fashion trend obscures women to the point of oblivion; a forgotten artist named Harlan Crane creates paintings of such vivid dimension and movement that even today’s special-effects wizards aspire to his startling realism.’ — Time Out NY

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Excerpt

The cat is chasing the mouse through the kitchen: between the blue chair legs, over the tabletop with its red-and-white-checkered tablecloth that is already sliding in great waves, past the sugar bowl falling to the left and the cream jug falling to the right, over the blue chair back, down the chair legs, across the waxed and butter-yellow floor. The cat and the mouse lean backward and try to stop on the slippery wax, which shows their flawless reflections. Sparks shoot from their heels, but it’s much too late: the big door looms. The mouse crashes through, leaving a mouse-shaped hole. The cat crashes through, replacing the mouse-shaped hole with a larger, cat-shaped hole. In the living room they race over the back of the couch, across the piano keys (delicate mouse tune, crash of cat chords), along the blue rug. The fleeing mouse snatches a glance over his shoulder, and when he looks forward again he sees the floor lamp coming closer and closer. Impossible to stop — at the last moment he splits in half and rejoins himself on the other side. Behind him the rushing cat fails to split in half and crashes into the lamp: his head and body push the brass pole into the shape of a trombone. For a moment the cat hangs sideways there, his stiff legs shaking like the clapper of a bell. Then he pulls free and rushes after the mouse, who turns and darts into a mousehole in the baseboard. The cat crashes into the wall and folds up like an accordion. Slowly he unfolds, emitting accordion music. He lies on the floor with his chin on his upraised paw, one eyebrow lifted high in disgust, the claws of his other forepaw tapping the floorboards. A small piece of plaster drops on his head. He raises an outraged eye. A framed painting falls heavily on his head, which plunges out of sight between his shoulders. The painting shows a green tree with bright red apples. The cat’s head struggles to rise, then pops up with the sound of a yanked cork, lifting the picture. Apples fall from the tree and land with a thump on the grass. The cat shudders, winces. A final apple falls. Slowly it rolls toward the frame, drops over the edge, and lands on the cat’s head. In the cat’s eyes, cash registers ring up NO SALE.

The mouse, dressed in a bathrobe and slippers, is sitting in his plump armchair, reading a book. He is tall and slim. His feet rest on a hassock, and a pair of spectacles rest on the end of his long, whiskered nose. Yellow light from a table lamp pours onto the book and dimly illuminates the cozy brown room. On the wall hang a tilted sampler bearing the words HOME SWEET HOME, an oval photograph of the mouse’s mother with her gray hair in a bun, and a reproduction of Seurat’s Sunday Afternoon in which all the figures are mice. Near the armchair is a bookcase filled with books, with several titles visible: Martin Cheddarwit, Gouda’s Faust, The Memoirs of Anthony Edam, A History of the Medicheese, the sonnets of Shakespaw. As the mouse reads his book, he reaches without looking toward a dish on the table. The dish is empty: his fingers tap about inside it. The mouse rises and goes over to the cupboard, which is empty except for a tin box with the word CHEESE on it. He opens the box and turns it upside down. Into his palm drops a single toothpick. He gives it a melancholy look. Shaking his head, he returns to his chair and takes up his book. In a bubble above his head a picture appears: he is seated at a long table covered with a white tablecloth. He is holding a fork upright in one fist and a knife upright in the other. A mouse butler dressed in tails sets before him a piece of cheese the size of a wedding cake.

From the mousehole emerges a red telescope. The lens looks to the left, then to the right. A hand issues from the end of the telescope and beckons the mouse forward. The mouse steps from the mousehole, collapses the telescope, and thrusts it into his bathrobe pocket. In the moonlit room he tiptoes carefully, lifting his legs very high, over to the base of the armchair. He dives under the chair and peeks out through the fringe. He emerges from beneath the armchair, slinks over to the couch, and dives under. He peeks out through the fringe. He emerges from beneath the couch and approaches the slightly open kitchen door. He stands flat against the doorjamb, facing the living room, his eyes darting left and right. One leg tiptoes delicately around the jamb. His stretched body snaps after it like a rubber band. In the kitchen he creeps to a moonlit chair, stands pressed against a chair leg, begins to climb. His nose rises over the tabletop: he sees a cream pitcher, a gleaming knife, a looming pepper mill. On a breadboard sits a wedge of cheese. The mouse, hunching his shoulders, tiptoes up to the cheese. From a pocket of his robe he removes a white handkerchief that he ties around his neck. He bends over the cheese, half closing his eyes, as if he were sniffing a flower. With a crashing sound the cat springs onto the table. As he chases the mouse, the tablecloth bunches in waves, the sugar bowl topples, and waterfalls of sugar spill to the floor. An olive from a fallen cocktail glass rolls across the table, knocking into a cup, a saltshaker, a trivet: the objects light up and cause bells to ring, as in a pinball machine. On the floor a brigade of ants is gathering the sugar: one ant catches the falling grains in a bucket, which he dumps into the bucket of a second ant, who dumps the sugar into the bucket of a third ant, all the way across the room, until the last ant dumps it into a waiting truck. The cat chases the mouse over the blue chair back, down the chair legs, across the waxed floor. Both lean backward and try to stop as the big door comes closer and closer.

 

 

*

p.s. Hey. ** David, Hi. No, it fell out of my mouth into the bowl of chips and I couldn’t find it. Me too, terrible tooth/gum pain, some months ago, three-part root canal, shit. Enjoy the Cell. Wait, you did. I wonder if they’re coming over here. ** Bzzt, Hey! Sounds good. My email is: [email protected]. I’m happy that Paris is still taking suave care of you, and … hopefully see you very soon! ** Sypha, Hi. ‘Grand Budapest Hotel’ is actually my least favorite Anderson film. I guess my favorites would be ‘Moonrise Kingdom’, ‘Life Aquatic’, ‘Rushmore’, ‘Tenenbaums’, and I do really love the two animated ones ‘Fantastic Mr. Fox’ and ‘Isle of Dogs’. It’s only one Wachowski doing the new one? That’s weird. I wonder why. I never could figure out what specific things each of them did. Thanks for the report on Andrew’s writing. Yeah, sounds very plotty. Complicatedly. Nothing wrong with that, and the more complicated the better. Flashbacks city? Cool. Hope it has a big payoff. ** Bill, Hi, B. Well, the vast majority of his recent/later video works are online in full, as I guess you saw. I don’t think I saw ‘I.K.U.’. Troubling how? Thanks about the tax thing. I sent in my official letter last night, so we’ll see. ** Tosh Berman, I haven’t read Bill’s new book yet. I liked the previous one. Oh, yeah, since I started making films, I’ve become intolerant of lazy and/or knee-jerk conventions in films that I might have overlooked before. Insiderness is interesting. Have a swell day! ** David Ehrenstein, Happy that you’re a fellow Bill fan! ** Dominik, Hi!!! Well, I hope resolution is on the way, but we’ll see. I don’t exactly trust them at this point. Jesus, what a prick. The guy with the dog. My sister went to a wedding recently, and the guy getting married said he was vaccinated, so she hugged him, etc., and then it turned he was lying and that he was not only not vaccinated, he had covid at the wedding, and she got covid. Charming. Your love’s therapist sounds a little like my old therapist from years back, ha ha. Maybe they all sound like that. My love talking your love into talking his therapist into giving him a bunch of heavy duty meds that he then gives to my love who then secretly slips them into the drink of the cutest guy he has ever seen, G. ** Steve Erickson, Hi. Yes, Bill’s extremely smart, and excellent with wordage as well as with the pictorial. I hope your arm took a chill pill while you were asleep last night. I tried reading Knausgaard, but his stuff/writing just didn’t appeal to me at all. I should try again though. ** Brendan, Yep, shit is everywhere infringing on everyone these days, that sure seems for sure. But you have Las Vegas with your reach. Man, that does sounds awfully nice. My Las Vegas is my favorite theme park Phantasialand in Germany which I hope to hit and luxuriate in as soon as next week if I’m lucky. Love, me. ** Nick Toti, Hi, Nick! Great to see you! Things have sucked royally of late, but things may be upswinging at the moment.So I’m all right, I think. Cool, yeah, Bill’s great. He and I used to pretty good pals back in the late 90s, early 00s. Thank you for the very promising sounding seven minutes! Mind if I pass them along? Everyone, Excellent filmmaker and fella Nick Toti has a little gift should you choose to accept it. Nick: ‘If you find yourself with seven minutes to spare, here’s a video of Victor DeLorenzo (former drummer of the Violent Femmes) and his bandmate playing an improvised, drone-y piece of music with the musician I’m currently making a documentary about.’ ** Brian, Hey, Brian! I’ve been thinking about you and wondering how you’re doing in your new location and school! Can I infer by your tone that things are going well there and with you? Yay, I’m thrilled you like ‘Lancelot du Lac’. I absolutely adore that film. It’s my second favorite Bresson, and one that people don’t talk/write about so much. That jousting scene is one the greatest things ever committed to film, if you ask me. Obviously I hope you get to do the research on his work. Cool professor. I had a rough couple of weeks, but things are looking up. Still waiting and waiting to get the green light on Zac’s and my new film, but we might get it very soon, possibly, seemingly, hopefully. Otherwise, keeping busy, enjoying the arrival of winter and so on. I think I’m finally going to see ‘Titane’ in the next day or so. Cool, man, so nice to see you. Please do not hesitate to enter here at the drop of your potential pleasure’s hat. Take care, and I hope this week and you are best buds. ** Okay. Today I’m spotlighting a fantastic book by one of my very favorite fiction writers, Steven Millhauser. Highly recommended, need I even say. See you tomorrow.

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