“Mi porti qualcosa di antico.” Unconsciously and not through appearance, but through the voice? Lidia, in conversation to the soundtrack of noxious tremors in an out-of-order Vespa on the tram avenue, following Jeremy Mende‘s “Anxious Futurism,” a study in negation (of the beautiful, the image, the individual, the sponsored, and the futurist, of anything but […]
“Hurry up slowly”—motto of Aldus Manutius, Venetian typographer, grammarian and humanist, turn of the sixteenth century. “City of Aldus”: it’s this figure that’s cited by the puerile author of A Lume Spento who wants to boast about where he’s self-published his first 72 pages of verse.
Even here, where the clarity of drier skies brings with it the general foreshortening and scratching at form so we can locate stricter historical trajectories in the panorama, Hadrianic, Jesuit here, 19th-century bureaucratic there, as restorers sprinkle the march of mustached Garibaldini busts with bleach at dusk, without digression from each once-illustrious story vis-à-vis the […]
Of “trasmigratori”: Man-Horse-Moss, at EUR. Most frequently heard question of the morning: which came first, De Chirico or this? The artist.
Contra-diction bene-detta (“blessed,” in translation that falls quite short) in the Foro Italico, once the Foro Mussolini, still marked by recordbreaking marble projectile; the mosaic DVCEDVCEDVCE DVCEDVCEDVCE DVCEDVCEDVCE become mere arrowing pattern alongside Luigi Moretti’s monolithic slabs, poised, once, to receive the progression of incising episodes of Fascism that Duce, pointy at sky over Foro, […]
Reflections: an arcade for commerce turned into stadium naves for observing, in the place of commodities, the sparklings or blazings of light reflected from a plaza turned into lagoon again, hosting now, in the place of touristed pigeons, the sea-fowl. Against every strategy, itinerary, “[t]he Venetian footfall and the Venetian cry—all talk there, wherever uttered, […]
Learning that marble is now imported from China before being carved by robots in Carrara according to plots computed by remote artists so as to be labeled, then, “Made in Carrara/Italy/etc.”— & trying in earnest not merely, simplistically, to mourn the outmoded craftsmen, even those making Christs in concrete, still, aware that Marx’s industrial optimism […]
In which Roman light-in-hiding is repackaged and redistributed along the brinks of the objectively discernible as in some liminally representational yet general—yowl the dogs far off—allegory of opening.
Antipasto of cauliflower, leeks, beets, and fennel with salsa rustica: food for wonder, in response to Sarah & Noga’s solicitousness about the weekend past, over the fact that ambient historical overload has led to a predilection for defensive simplification of late: head drunken merely in patterns of light and the natural cycles expunged from my, […]
Thinking tremolio: ever stupefying to see how much interference can take place, at terrific times, between cognition and experience otherwise sensed. Tuesday evening’s lecture asked us to consider thinking pre-Enlightenment-As-We-Know-It: Celenza citing the premodern conception of the mind as a substance, as a vapor, which can take direct effect on the world. (The next evening […]