The blog of author Dennis Cooper

Category: Uncategorized (Page 729 of 1102)

Kinetic

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Michael Sailstorfer Forst (2012)

 

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Sun Yuan and Peng Yu Old Persons Home (2007)
‘In Old Persons Home, Sun and Peng’s satirical models of decrepit OAPS look suspiciously familiar to world leaders, long crippled and impotent, left to battle it out in true geriatric style. Placed in electric wheelchairs, the withered, toothless, senile and drooling, are set on a collision course for international conflict as they roll about the gallery at snails pace, crashing into each other at random in a grizzly parody of the U.N. dead.’

 

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Peter Keene et Piet.sO L’ENTRÉE OUVERTE AU PALAIS FERMÉ DU ROI (2017)

 

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Alan Rath Yet Again (2017)

 

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Peter Keene Raoul Hausmann revisited (2004)
‘In a letter to Henri Chopin dated 23 June 1963, Raoul Hausmann wrote: “I would like attract your attention to the fact that since 1922 I have been developing the theory of the optophone, an apparatus that transforms visible forms into sound, and vice versa. I had an English patent, “Procedure for combining numbers on the photoelectric base” which was a variant on this apparatus, and at the same time the first robot. The only thing that kept me from constructing an optophone was money.”

‘The optophone is an instrument imagined and devised by Hausmann, and several versions of it were created a few years later. If the artist did not invent the computer, he did come pretty close to it in his efforts to broaden the frontiers of art by converting sounds into forms and vice versa. Art critic Jacques Donguy, who specialises in sound poetry, and artist Peter Keene, tracked down the patent filed by Hausmann in 1934 and set about turning the robot he conceived into a reality.’

 

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Tim Lewis Pony (2012)

 

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Seiko Mikami Desire of Codes (2011)
‘A matrix of sensors, small lights and surveillance cameras spans the space and follows the movements of visitors. Each movement sets off a response from a whole swarm of small surveillance units, using their lights to point at the body of the visitor. An uneasy dialogue on the ambivalent trust in surveillance systems evolves.’

 

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Giles Walker Peepshow (2008)
‘The project is called Peepshow and consists of two “pole dancing” figures and a DJ. They are all built from scrap with windscreen wiper motors and controlled by wizard boards. At the time of building Peepshow there was a lot of news coverage encouraging the British public to readily accept the huge increase in surveillance cameras. They were everywhere. I wanted to build a piece as a reaction against these mechanical “Peeping Toms” that were appearing on every street corner. Serious research has actually found that better street lighting has a higher chance of reducing crime than CCTV. I chose pole dancers as a subject and gave them CCTV cameras as heads — playing with the concepts of voyeurism and its relationship with power. I also was interested in the challenge of whether I could make a pile of old scrap, sitting in the middle of my workshop, into something sexy.’

 

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David Fried Self Organizing Still-Life [sos] (1998)

 

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Mischa Kuball five planets (2019)

 

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Limee Young Bird (2018)
‘One time, a bird got in through a crack in our roof. I could hear the fluttering of its wings in the cramped rooftop space. Although it was a narrow crack in the roof formed by age, the bird continued flapping its wings for several days, perhaps still believing it could fly. After a few days, I could not hear the bird’s wings any longer. Did the bird die? Or did it survive and escape? I hear the sounds of a struggle to live.’

 

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Ben Tardif Marble Mountain (2016)
‘Marble Mountain is a large marble machine still under construction. It consists of 25 sections that mesh together to form one kinetic sculpture. Every element is themed (or will be upon completion) to an aspect of my life or to something that I find interesting. Some of the elements include a roller coaster, ski jump, Times Square, Lombard Street, and a skatepark. It took 3 years to get to this point of being able to turn it on and watch it go, and I will continue to work on it and get it fully completed.’

 

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David Bowen tele-present water (2011)
‘This installation draws information from the intensity and movement of the water in a remote location. Wave data is being collected and updated from National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration data buoy station 51003. This station was originally moored 205 nautical miles Southwest of Honolulu on the Pacific. It went adrift and the last report from its moored position was around 04/25/2011. It is still transmitting valid observation data but its exact location is unknown. The wave intensity and frequency collected from the buoy is scaled and transferred to the mechanical grid structure, resulting in a simulation of the physical effects caused by the movement of water from this distant unknown location. This work physically replicates a remote experience and makes observation of the activity of an isolated object, otherwise lost at sea, possible through direct communication.’

 

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John Armleder Voltes IV (2004)

 

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Daniel Wurtzel Various (2009 – 2014)

 

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Christian Moeller Eclipse (2017)

 

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LAb[au] Signal To Noise (2012)
”Signal To Noise’ is a kinetic installation immersing the spectator in patterns of sonic motion, based on generative principles executed by 512 mechanical split-flaps. The expression ‘signal-to-noise’ is a measure used to quantify how much a signal has been lost to noise; it’s a ratio of useful to un-useful information in a data exchange. The works consists of a 3.40 m circular structure, containing 4 horizontal rows of 128 split-flaps at eye height. The external surface exposes the stripped back technology of the split-flaps and driver boards, while the internal surfaces reveal the characters of the split-flaps. The circular installation invites the visitor to plunge into a kinetic composition in the midst of the eternal calculation process of an auto-poetic machine. The split-flaps are constantly spinning on a variable speed/rhythm which is dependent upon on the underlying algorithm, analyzing in the maze of information the appearance of a word-equal-meaning.’

 

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Stefan Radu Cretu Fake Ghost (2019)

 

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Meridith Pingree Raindrop (2010)
‘The shape has nine links. Each link has a turquoise blue transparent plastic reversible motor and two motion sensors. It hangs from the ceiling by its power cord. The wires are fastened together with snappy barrettes.’

 

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Gianni Colombo Spazio elastico (1967)
‘The cubic space of Spazio elastico is completely dark inside: as a result the six planes that define it are completely suppressed. Elastic cords cross this space from ceiling to floor and from one wall to the other, creating a cubic grid. The elastic cords are dyed in a fluorescent color and lit by UV light. They take a minimal part of the space in comparison with the empty space. This orthogonal grid of luminous rays in an otherwise completely dark space prevents the perception of all the other elements in the room. The whole structure moves through the electromechanical action of motors installed outside the environment: they create slow-moving tensions in several points of the grid, with different time cycles. These tensions continuously deform the cubes drawn in space by the cords.’

 

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Rafael Lozano-Hemmer Wavefunction (2007)

 

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Wilfredo Prieto Tied Up to the Table Leg (2011)
‘Tied Up to the Table Leg consists of a helicopter standing still over the roof of the museum during one hour. A rope has been hung from it and, after going down the floors by the stairs, it has been tied up to the leg of a table located on the ground floor.’

 

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Petr Válek ASMR GRAMOPHONE (2019)

 

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Alex Allmont Various (2012 – 2019)
‘Until recently I’ve been doing a part time PhD about improvising with polyrhythms and phased rhythms but it’s on hold for lack of funds. In some senses this is for the best as it’s loosened me to focus on my projects including modular synths, performance, LEGO musical machines and installation work.’

 

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Rebecca Horn Untitled (2011)

 

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Hans Haacke Blue Sail (1965)

 

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U-Ram Choe Una Lumino Portentum (2008)
stainless steel, motors, light-emitting diodes, acrylic casting, circuits, custom software, CPU board, motors

 

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Arthur Ganson Thinking Chair (2001)

 

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Benjamin Forster Drawing Machine (Output = Plotter) (2008 – 2012)
‘This is not an investigation of any specific style of drawing, but simply drawing as the act of making marks on a surface; how these marks are made in relation to one another and, most importantly, what knowledge is necessary in order to make such marks. This investigation centres around his attempt to program a computer to draw in a way that is distinctly human, rather than stylistically digital or mechanistic. It is important that his program simulates the human characteristics of drawing because it is exactly the human quality of drawing that he has been attempting to understand. Note: This machine will never produce the same drawing twice.’

 

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William Forsythe Black Flags (2014)
‘Readymade industrial robots, nylon flags, carbon fiber flagpoles, and steel plates, dimensions variable.’

 

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Theo Jansen Strandbeests (2011 – 2018)
‘Dutch artist Theo Jansen has been working for 16 years to create sculptures that move on their own in eerily lifelike ways. Each generation of his “Strandbeests” is subject to the forces of evolution, with successful forms moving forward into new designs. Jansen’s vision and long-term commitment to his wooden menagerie is as fascinating to observe as the beasts themselves.

‘His newest creatures walk without assistance on the beaches of Holland, powered by wind, captured by gossamer wings that flap and pump air into old lemonade bottles that in turn power the creatures’ many plastic spindly legs. The walking sculptures look alive as they move, each leg articulating in such a way that the body is steady and level. They even incorporate primitive logic gates that are used to reverse the machine’s direction if it senses dangerous water or loose sand where it might get stuck.’

 

 

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p.s. Hey. ** kyler, Hi, K. Thank you a lot for the beautiful story. I hope you’ve woken up perkily. ** Corey Heiferman, Hi. Hm, yes, about that distinction. I have an instinctive wariness mechanism that is triggered by the word literary. In the common usage it too often describes prose with erudite window dressing. It is awfully nice not to have the slightest thought of logistics cross one’s mind when making something in writing. And yet the whole rigamarole around filmmaking can be refreshing in a weird way when one is used to be an artist loner. Hm. Good that you got good stuff from that lyric. Pleasure is better than not. ** David Ehrenstein, I agree about ‘Providence’ as you know. That’s the thing about those ‘full movie’ youtube postings. When I make the movie based blog posts, I always have to think about whether to include them because they’re a blessing, but I also know that 90% of them will be taken down, leaving an ugly grey dead embed in the posts where they used to be. For instance, pretty much all of your old Petit MacMahon posts are dead and un-restorable now, sadly. ** Bill, Cool. ‘Bumbling along in my distracted way’: you just described my past 5 weeks in a nutshell. That House of Automata link is strangely prescient given the blog’s entertainment for today. Huh. Thank you! And for the David Grubbs hook up. Grubbs is a goodie. He almost collaborated with Gisele/ Stephen/ us on the score for one of our pieces. I don’t remember why that didn’t end up happening. ** Dominik, Hi!!! Yes, I know. Well, there are a few art things out there that haven’t given up on reality yet, like that LA show with the haunted attraction. But we will see. Galleries should be able to come back in a pretty normal way assuming they survive the financial destruction of the quarantine. They’re never that crowded except for opening events, which will surely stop happening. I think the galleries here are supposed to start reopening on the 11th, but don’t quote me. Zac flew to Nice yesterday morning. There’s only one flight a day, and he had to grab it. He told them his mom was sick — she isn’t — and he had to go take care of her, and that worked. He said the airport — CDG 1 — was all but deserted, and there were only 3 flights that day, 2 of them bringing French people back from other countries and his flight to Nice. He said the plane was completely packed with masked people and it was horrifying. Anyway, he made it. Oh, you like Roger Chapman’s voice! How cool! I love his voice. I makes the hairs stand up on my neck. A bitchy day, I hear you. I did my walk/shopping trip, worked more on the email interview, started setting up a PGL screening in Copenhagen for the post-lockdown future, watched a couple of films — Leslie Thornton’s new one ‘Ground’ and Tzuan Wu’s new one ‘This Shore’ and … not much else? Did today surprise you, and, if so, how, and, if not, how? Ha. Love like a gigantic hot fudge banana split sundae, Dennis. ** Thomas Moronic, Hi, T. Lovely to see you anytime much less in this lonely present. You good? How’s stuff? What is stuff? Love, me. ** Misanthrope, Why wouldn’t I be cheerful? It’s all in how you look at everything. I’m just accessing the ‘what a lucky guy I am to experience this terrible, strange thing’ part of me. Over here, we’re kind of past the scared, glaring people thing and onto the shared communal shared victims’ smile thing. Mostly. ** QuinnR, Hi, Quinn! Mm, I don’t know about full length recordings. Some of those videos of productions of the play were full length, I think. There might be something in the links, I can’t remember. Writing about one’s own emotional state is really tricky for sure. My new novel is all and only about that, but it’s first time I’ve ever tried to make that a fictional subject, and it was, yeah, tricky. I’m sorry you’re in a low, but, yes, if there was ever a time. And the thing with the guy you were hooking up with is a mess. Desire can be so manipulative, and in an innocent way sometimes. Desire can make the desiring feel and believe things they know aren’t true but want badly enough that they fool themselves. And others. I don’t know. I’m sorry for that. We’ve pretty much assumed for a while that the ‘TIHYWD’ performance almost for sure wouldn’t happen. I don’t think France is going to let outsiders visit for at least another month or two or longer. We’re totally locked down. You can’t get in, you can’t get out, unless you’re French and stuck elsewhere and need to come home. Overall, I’m pretty fine really. Used to all of this. But if I didn’t know we’ll be reopening a bit in two and a half weeks, I would be less fine. Ha ha, ‘Madame Bovary’ and ‘Hogg’ are such a funny combo. I like it. Are you writing? Do find ways to give yourself as much pleasure as you can, man. See you soon. ** Steve Erickson, Hi. Huh, sounds curious. That Herz film. Car Seat Headrest … so you’re saying it’s interesting enough to try getting into? I can’t say that they’ve interested me one bit thus far. Did you manage to get your parents to figure out how to watch TV series in a 21st century style? That would obviously fill their agenda. ** Okay. Today I’m giving you a bunch of fun. Well, fun if you like this kind of fun. Here’s hoping. See you tomorrow.

Spotlight on … Sarah Kane 4:48 Psychosis (1999)

 

‘Sarah Kane slips easily into the mythic mould. She burst quickly on to the theatre scene: Blasted, in 1995, was an instant scandal. And, after writing four more plays – Phaedra’s Love, Cleansed, Crave and 4.48 Psychosis – over the next four years, she took her own life after a struggle with mental illness. Like the great Romantic poets, Kane was drawn to death. Like the 20th century’s icons – like Marilyn, like Jimmy – she died young. What greater end to the life of a young genius than suicide?

‘I suppose when a young artist commits suicide, leaving a relatively small body of work, it’s natural to want more. We know there are no more Sarah Kane plays to come, so people want more of her. We want to build up the myth. Her death leaves a vacuum that we want to fill. It’s an understandable instinct, but not a good one.

‘Kane’s plays have almost certainly achieved canonical status. All over the world, they are seen and admired. Almost since the arrival of Blasted, she has been regarded as the most important of the new British dramatists. No doubt some of the initial interest in her work was a wish to jump on the bandwagon of sensation that Blasted caused on its UK premiere, but with the passing of time Kane’s work has proved its significance.

‘There’s a danger that we see all of Kane’s work as one long preparation for suicide. We shouldn’t. Only the last play, 4.48 Psychosis, is a play written during her periods of depression and hospitalisation – and even there, the ending is ambiguous. There’s a glimmer of light – but in life or in death? Rather, I think we should look at the plays as the work of a writer of great anger, of sardonic humour, who saw the cruelties of the world but also the human capacity for love.’ — Mark Ravenhill, The Guardian

 

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4:48 Psychosis: Media


Trailer: UK/Royal Opera production


Turkish production


Excerpt: Russian production


Hong Kong production


Trailer: Finnish production


Georgian production


Trailer: German production


French production


Excerpt: Italian production

 

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Further

A Sarah Kane site by Iain Fisher
Sarah Kane Discussion Forum
Sarah Kane Biography
Sarah Kane interviewed
‘4:48 Psychosis’ Facebook Page
Buy Sarah Kane’ The Complete Plays’
Sarah Kane @ In-Yer-Face Theater
‘Sarah Kane is my Kurt Cobain’
Sarah Kane’s obituary @ The Observer

 

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4:48 Psychosis

‘Much has been written about the troubles of Sarah Kane, starting with the controversy following her first play, Blasted and then continuing long after her sudden suicide at age twenty-eight. For many she has become the classic tortured artist – perhaps to a fault. In his introduction to Sarah Kane: Complete Plays, her friend and colleague David Greig encourages us to focus on the literary qualities of Kane’s work rather than on the “mythology of the author” which he terms “a pointlessly forensic act”. This may be difficult with regard to Kane’s final play, 4:48 Psychosis, an abstract work that presents the mindscape of an individual contemplating suicide and was written just prior to Kane’s own. But to what extent the two events are coincidental or a true example of life imitating art is largely a matter of conjecture.

‘One thing is for certain, life under the conditions of 4:48 Psychosis would be an almost non-stop chorus of pain. The play was written during a period of deep depression in Kane’s life, an achievement Greig calls “positively heroic…an act of generosity” but he cautions against looking for clues to someone’s personal history based on the drifting and artificial evidence of a play. The very word play implies something in motion or imagined, like games and pretending. Other authors such as Ken Urban, have pointed out the difficulty, if not impossibility, of separating Kane’s personal life from the themes explored in 4:48 and that in this final play the author and the work are structurally intertwined. Reflecting on comments made by Kane’s literary agent, Mel Kenyon, Urban writes, “Because it is the play that, Kane joked, ‘killed’ her to write, at this particular historical moment, it is hard to read the play outside of biography. Mel Kenyon recently said in an interview, ‘I pretend that [4:48 Psychosis] isn’t a suicide note but it is. It is both a suicide note and something greater than that.’”’ — Mustafa Sakarya, ‘A Controlled Detonation

 

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The play

(continued/the entirety)

 

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Interview
by Aleks Sierz

When Sarah Kane was still alive, it was vital to support her work — her style was so raw, so provocative and so innovative that many critics simply didn’t get it. Some even called for it to be censored. So it was important to support her, almost without question. But, when the 28-year-old playwright committed suicide on 20 February 1999, everything changed. Now, suddenly everyone loved her. Now, she was an icon. Now, she was a secular saint. Critics fell over each other to recant — it was like an episode from some religious war.

Wars breed anecdotes. And it soon emerged that everyone has a Sarah Kane anecdote. So here’s mine. It’s about the interview I did with her for the chapter on her work for my first book, In-Yer-Face Theatre: British Drama Today, and it may, or may not, be the last interview she ever gave. In my 1998 diary, there’s an entry for 14 September: Kane, 12 noon, SW9 (the name of a cafe in Brixton, south London, where we both lived at the time). The diary also shows that, in the previous week, I’d seen the Paines Plough production of Kane’s Crave (8 September), and soon afterwards I saw Mark Ravenhill’s Handbag (18 September). Oh heady days.

We met at SW9 because Kane lived just around the corner in a flat which she shared with her friend David Gibson at 6A Bellefields Road. I arrived early, and remember standing apprehensively at the bar — I was a bit tense, a bit nervous. After all, I was a fortysomething journalist and couldn’t help thinking that the character of Ian, also a fortysomething journalist, in her debut Blasted expressed her hatred of all middle-aged men. In fact, when I’d spoken to her on the phone to arrange the meeting, she laughed: “I seem to be meeting a lot of middle-aged men recently.”

I was worried that she’d be as aggressive as her work suggested. I suppose this is an example of the biographical fallacy in reverse. In fact, when she arrived, right on time, she was smiling. Wearing a black leather jacket, and hip black clothes, she could barely disguise her sleepy eyes, and the fact that she’d just got out of bed. “Oh, it’s early for me,” she said. “I’ve been up all night writing.” It was the way she liked to work.

We drank coffee at a corner table by the window. The moment she sat down, she got out her cigarettes. She offered me one. No thanks, I said, I’m too afraid of cancer. “You’ve got more chance of dying from a heart attack from worrying about it,” she joked, lighting up. When Kane smoked, she held her cigarette behind her back so that the smoke wouldn’t blow into my eyes. This considerate behaviour reminded me that although her plays have lashings of violence, they are also full of gentleness. After all, her main theme is love.


During the interview, to explain the difference between plot and story visually, Sarah grabbed my questions from me and drew a diagram on the back.

Then Kane gave me back a copy of an academic article I’d written about Blasted and the politics of the new censorship, where the media leads the call for banning plays rather than, as in the past, the state (whose censorship of theatre ended decades ago in 1968). In her delicate handwriting, she’d made a couple of corrections: where I had written, “Kane deliberately sets out to create a godless universe”, she wrote: “I don’t know. God does make an appearance [in Blasted]. And there is life after death.”

Kane talked some more about her first play, pointing out that the final scene takes place in a metaphorical “hell”. “Don’t forget the stage direction that says ‘He dies with relief’,” she said. “Ian dies, so you think that’s the worst thing that can happen — then it rains on him.” It’s a moment that sums her sense of humour, bleak perhaps, but humorous definitely. And she enjoyed the fact that directions like this present a real challenge to directors of her work.

Showing me a passage where I had misquoted her, Kane corrected my garbled version by stating succinctly: “Theatre will always be a minority interest, but the lack of a mass audience is compensated for by the lack of direct censorship.” At various points during our meeting, which lasted about two hours, she would consult a small notebook, pointing out which journalists had misquoted her.

It was clear that Kane thought of her character Ian with a mixture of horror and affection. When I said that, as a middle-aged man, I recognised his psychology, and the way he tried to manipulate Cate, she was pleased. “Yes,” she said, “when I was at Birmingham, there was a middle-aged man on the MA and he defended my portrayal of Ian when the other students attacked it. And I thought that was brave of him.”

Of course, Kane understood that you can feel a sexual or a violent desire without necessarily acting on it. “It’s one thing to have an idea, it’s quite another to act on it. We all have some control over our actions.” But what about Cate? Well, she stressed the fact that Cate is not retarded, and — much as she loved this character — she was also a bit exasperated with her: “I mean, what’s she doing in that hotel room with Ian?” Still, Cate’s resilience was as important to Kane as her naivety.

When I asked Kane what she thought of the label “in-yer-face theatre”, she shrugged as if to say: “That’s your problem, mate, not mine.” Then she said: “At least it’s fucking better than New Brutalism.” No writer likes to be labelled as part of a movement, and Kane was especially sensitive to being categorised as anything other than a “writer”.

We talked about the performance of Blasted that I’d seen at the Royal Court. It was the second press night, and she asked me how many people had walked out. I told her that only a couple had left, but that many people had giggled nervously during the evening. She was pleased that the play had had a powerful effect, and told me that she had seen most performances.

Why did the critics hate the play so much? Kane explained their reaction by pointing out that “a play about a middle-aged male journalist who rapes a young woman and is raped and mutilated himself can’t have endeared me to a theatre full of middle-aged male critics”. She also felt that she’d had a hard time from critics because she was a woman. I disagreed. I think that because Blasted is such a powerfully written piece, experimental in structure and provocative in its portrayal of a contemporary English civil war, it made audiences uncomfortable, made them feel they were experiencing the emotions shown on stage. And that discomfort and disorientation confused the critics (poor souls) — so they took the easy way out, which was to attack her.

Kane felt that the emotional content of her work had been misunderstood. “Blasted is a hopeful play,” she said. She didn’t recognise herself in negative descriptions of her work. “I don’t find my plays depressing or lacking in hope,” she said. “But I’m someone whose favourite band is Joy Division because I find their songs uplifting. To create something beautiful about despair is for me the most life-affirming thing a person can do.”

Despite the fact that love was so important to her, Kane was also constantly aware of violence. She told me two anecdotes about life in Brixton. In the first, she’d been shopping in Iceland supermarket, and bumped into a black woman, who went mad and abused her: “She called me ‘a white bitch’. You know, black people can be as racist as whites.” And the other story was from when she once lived in Josephine Avenue, and was about a gay man who been attacked and arrived on her front doorstep gasping, with his head streaming blood.


I asked her again about 4:48 Psychosis and the form she was striving to create. She grabbed a piece of file paper from my desk and drew another diagram.

Kane also told me a story from when she was at Bristol university. Planning to study playwriting at Birmingham, she was compelled to pay a small sum for private health insurance. She wrote on the back of the cheque something along the lines of finding it fucking outrageous that to enter an educational institution she should be required to pay for private health insurance, to which she was deeply opposed. I mention this because I now think that the most important thing about her life was not her suicide, but the fact that she got a First Class Honours degree and an MA in drama — she was an intellectual. She loved plays. She loved theatre.

Kane hated giving interviews. At the end of our meeting, she told me she didn’t want to do any more. “I’m a writer,” she said. “I’d much prefer if you could send me letters, and I’ll write my replies to your questions.” In the next couple of months, she sent me a couple of letters about her plays, then silence. I carried on writing my book and, just as I was finishing the first draft of my chapter about her, I heard she’d killed herself. For a while I was shocked and couldn’t write any more about her, and even wondered whether to put her chapter in the past tense. In the end, I left it in the present.

Looking back, our meeting seems to be a characteristic mix of helpful kindness and full-on violent imagination that, in my mind, is the essence of Kane. Yet what haunted me afterwards was the frankness and openness of her personality. “Go on,” she said, “ask me anything.” At the time, I didn’t ask half the questions I wanted to. I thought we’d have plenty of time to talk about her work — I was wrong. I didn’t realise she was already planning her suicide. In June 2000, I talked to Robert Gore-Langton, a Daily Express journalist who’d interviewed her father about her suicide. He told me that he’d expected him to be defensive, but that in fact he was totally open. “Go on,” he’d said, “ask me anything.”

Like most people, Kane was a complex and occasionally contradictory human being: equally capable of being polite and aggressive, of being an introverted garret writer and an extrovert fun-loving woman, of loving moody, doomy music and supporting Man United, a colourful club, a winner’s club, of talking about “sucking gash” and of longing for love and tenderness, by turns honest, perceptive, provocative, sentimental and, yes, quite in-yer-face. Sometimes.
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p.s. Hey. ** JM, Hi, J. I’m happy Burstyn also works heavily for you. Thank you again and so much about ‘Closer’. Um, no, I don’t really think about what my work is doing out there in reality or whatever. It’s too mysterious to imagine. Something I love about books is that they seem to have an even more secretive life than other forms, I don’t know why. I guess because books, fiction and poetry in particular, are an entirely one-on-one experience, absolutely private, and even when people try to characterise the experience they had with a novel, say, for others, it’s always just a skim and soundbite of what happened. So what one hears about what one’s books do in the world can only be a tiny fraction of what they actually do. Or something. I always think of my work having a future, post-me, post-me being alive. I’ve always thought about that and somehow written with that unknowable future in mind, I guess because 90% of the books I loved when I was staring out where by long dead writers. The Qanon thing means nothing to me. There’s been this hatred or fear or whatever of my books from certain quarters from the beginning, and I don’t feel like I’ve ever learned anything from the reaction. Yeah, I think you are very fortunate when it comes to your leader, that seems really true. Really, what an intense and profound experience to have gone through, this virus spread. There’s so much there to think about and feel about that I, at least, can’t even begin to recognise and process, but the future will sort that out. Enjoy everything you can, and I’ll keep getting through the days as productively as possible and counting the hours until a fuller life of some new form starts. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi. Unfortunately  in the time you made that link to ‘Providence’ and now, the video got taken down, grr. Wish I could have shared. ‘Providence; is easily in my top 10 all-time favorite films, as I think you know, and it probably in the top 5. ** _Black_Acrylic, Cool beans! (What a weird saying). ** Steve Erickson, I kind of don’t have much doubt that the new Apple is very good, but, yeah, the Bernie Bro-style fandom that it’s getting right out of the gate is making me put my personal experience with it out there on the horizon. I’ll go find Herz’s BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, thank you for the tip. ** Dominik, Hi!!! He knows his way around cold noodles, that’s for sure. Oh, it’s so easy to confuse the producer thing, especially with my lazy descriptions. Thank you for the fingers crossing. It would be really good if we get that grant, for sure, but not a big tragedy if we don’t. The gallery show thing would be for a future, real world actual exhibition once life re-begins enough to allow that. Ha ha, yeah, I don’t know why that Blink 182 song popped into my head. I do really like it. Yesterday I … hm, Zac suddenly decided he couldn’t take empty Paris anymore, so he managed to find a flight to Nice where he’ll hold up with his mom until the quarantine ends, so we checked in re: that. Worked on some GIF things, which didn’t go well, but oh well. I started answering an emailed interview. I went down another youtube wormhole re: another favorite band of the past (70s), in this case Family, featuring the very particular, love-it-or-hate-it — I love it — braying goat-like vocals of the great Roger Chapman. For example. And, uh, not much else, sadly. Today, yours? Trade you for mine. Love with a sexy lazy eye, Dennis. ** Misanthrope, Duh’s the word. I keep up too, I just don’t believe anything I hear until it’s had time to prove itself correct. The news is too hysterically framed right now to be trusted, by me at least. Yeah, weird, the concentration. I think I underestimated how strolls around town and interacting with other humans is key to a brain’s brightness. ** Kyler, Ah, here you are on a day when I launch a new post about your friend Sarah Kane. Burstyn’s really great, yeah, pretty much in everything I’ve seen, not only the many great films she’s been a part of. She even makes her portions of films by directors I cannot stand like Aronofsky and Nolan worth waiting for. Glad your mood is up. I guess mine is fairly up, at least compared to a lot of people I know. I have a number of friend asking me how I can be so cheerful, so I guess so. ** Dom Lyne, Hi, Dom! Good to see you, pal. Oh, I think I’m holding up fairly well, all things considered. A bit grumpier and more bored than I normally am. The quiet is insane, right? I’m kind of really into it, but knowing it’ll end helps. Oh, man, that’s intense, and I’m so sorry about the episode you sent through. Especially in this situation. But I’m obviously happy to hear that you’re virtually righted now. Oh, wow! You made a GIF poem! High five. I’ve only just scrolled through it rapidly right now when I’m in need of finishing this, but it looks great! And I’ll pore through it very soon. Everyone, The writer, artist, musician and many things Dom Lyne made a GIF poem! A person after my own heart, obviously. Go luxuriate in its fun and much more by merely clicking this. Excellent, man! Well, you are being very productive, and I have to tell you I’m feeling some serious envy over here ‘cos I’m overly vagued out these days. Great news all the way around! Like I said, I’m trying to work, and getting a bit done. Re: the film, the lockdown has just slowed down the fund raising process a little, more than a little, which is annoying because I’m impatient to have the money in hand to make it, but things are still on course. Thanks for asking. Have the best day humanly possible! Love and holographic hugs, me. ** Okay. I did a post on my old, dead blog about Sarah Kane’s play, but when I went back to restore it, I thought it was weak, so I made a whole new one. That’s it. Fend as you will. See you tomorrow.

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