more xu bing (courtesy of jon)

bookfromtheground

poetics

For my final project I want to take my first assignment and add a shyness to the piece. (Kyle M)

That Old Library

There has always been something unique about the Old Library that separates it from other libraries.  I think rather than trying to block out noise and create silence, the Old Library provides a space that is inherently focused and separate from other activity, but at the same time is present in an environment that is full of it.  The world continues to move while you're in that space, and the design of its environment in no way tries to hide this fact, unlike other spaces.  I'm constantly aware of the sounds of the cars rushing by behind the rattling windows and clinking chandeliers, I feel just like I do when I'm laying down in my room back in Connecticut, I feel present among other living things, I don't feel alone.  (Jake Cooper)

buildings with libraries

a soft-spoken amenity

blackle.com

blackle

and plenty more googles here

thanks erik!

on google

The colors of the google logo absolutely have an impact on the user.  The message is simple, primary, easy to use.  Perhaps the mixing of these primary colors yields an infinite amount of other colors so as to suggest an unlimited number of search results. (Kyle C)

Bright primary colors become an elementary part of our internet experience, our lives.  Simple, easy access to the world's stockpile of data has become the hallmark of our era.  In a way, the simple basic nature of Google's color represents a new age of learning, where everyone is in Kindergarten, where all the tools, knowledge, and expertise are made equally accessible to all the "students."  It has been statistically proven that once we assume information is easily accessible, we don't allocate memory space to it.  Hence, Google, in its simplistic basic nature, has succeeded in part becoming a part of our natural thinking process.  We have assimilated Google and it has assimilated us.  (Joshua)

Blue makes me lazy, which I feel Google does too sometimes.  (Jennifer)

The Present Order

I think he might want us to really think.  (Zoe)

Finlay is something of a Zen master, hiding his wisdom in the illusion of smallness.  (Emma)

These images were complex but not complicated.  (Joe)

Finlay uses text as a composing factor in his work, like architecture.  (Andrew)

Highly cerebral in nature, Finlay relies on consciously leading the viewer or reader through specific moments in time.  In particular I loved the concept behind Ocean Stripe Series 5, subjecting the reader to the monotonous task of reading the same thing over and over again.  (Kyle)

Finlay is a material poet, somebody who is concerned with the textures, flexibility, structural integrity of his piece.  If I were to stretch this thought, in a sense, he is a designer.

On Alec Finlay's essay, "W-I-L-D-H-A-W-T-H-O-R-N-P-R-E-S-S":  I found the visual play with alternating upper and lower case letters very menacing to read!  It was as if I were jumping visual hurdles in an attempt to formulate the word and further, the piece.  (Wesley)

Who the heck is Ian Hamilton Finlay? (Lauren M)

What I found charming but also equally unsettling about The Present Order was its fierce assertion of itself over the reader.  It constructs a reality we are somehow forced to accept.  The reality of this world is convincing because of its self-awareness and sensitivity to space, page, text, and time.  It does not, however, pull us from our own reality, but invites the reader to explore new tributaries of possibility.
(Emily)

Finlay uses a multipronged multi-faceted approach to conveying meaning.  Operating both within and without but always intrinsically close to the idea of concrete poetry, he takes advantage of words, their meaning, their connotation, their architecture, their relationship, their sound.  By making use of more than one dimension , he is able to overcome the usual limitations of language to sublimate his work into something greater.  Deeper and more ephemeral.  (Joshua)

     At first I found it very hard to really get into this book.  I spent the first few hours in the mist of the first chapter, "Poet or Artist."  I found it very hard to follow, so I decided to go back and read the introduction.
     This was a big refresher on the purpose of introductions.  I got a lot of clarity on the work.  (Esmé)

What I found most compelling about Finlay's work was the way in which he directly dealt with the elements of language, such as syntax and language relationships.  Finlay dealt with syntax by using a toy as his poem while most poets play with syntax in their poems by word choice -- this to me is an indirect appropach to syntax, containing an extra degree of separation.  Finlay's disposal of syntax with his toy directly and elegantly strikes to the core of the issue, and why he is so successful.  (Erik)

No wind would blow these letters as it would the blades of grass.  (Thea)

Reading this book made me that much more excited to create more of my own poetry as it depicted poetry much as a painting for the eye as it is words for the mind.  (Avery)

I've always enjoyed artists who work in the language of non-artistic practice, and Finlay's presentation of these references with only subtle nods to their actual origin makes for a fascinating investigation on the part of the reader.  The terms take on a very physical presence when we cannot connect them to their particular function.  Finlay's work in stone seemed to be another great exercise in this sort of conceptual presence--as the objects themselves gain weight the subjects they portray become less specific, more referential.  Though not mentioned until later on, the "casual" stone piece from Unnatural Pebbles struck me in its relation to two Poems--one evokes thick, mysterious, spiritual weight carried on fragile material while the other portrays a seemingly breezy, offhand marking as a physically heavy, formally significant material.  (Trevor)

What I am most drawn to in concrete poetry is the limitation it enforces on the artist.  (Poetry has one "side" if we imagine it to be just language.  A block of concrete has six sides which when related to concrete poetry becomes an extension of poetry wherein there are more things to consider than the language: size of the surface, materiality of the surface, where the surface is situated, the placement of the letters and words and so on).  Yes, concrete poetry has a greater number of variables that are to be considered when compared to poetry.  But the linguistic variable is fixed.  In a way, concrete poetry asks, "How much can you do with language?  How far can you push it?" (Prashast)

NEW NAME FOR AN OLD LIBRARY!

Transformed Library?  Open Library?  Because it is headed into a new era, what about New Library?  Poetics Library?  (Lauren)

This room will always be "The Chocolate Room" for me.  (Hania)

It is sort of cavernous, isn't it?  Great Mahogany Cavern, maybe.  Wide Wooden Womb.  Resonant Dusty Woodwind (it feels like an instrument, like a great disused church organ)

The Sanctuary.  The Hub.

The Theater.

Entre.

Big Wood Place.

Soyim: Space of Your Mind.

THE WINGNUT ROOM


The Large Shelfroom.

Empty Temple.
               
Cabinet Corridor.

Time Lapse.

The Time Capsule.

Phantom Shelves.

The Amber Room.

The Empty Pantry.

Zoe on Yingelishi

Yingelishi ... reading it revived my yearning or like of the language.  the pure joy of spelling/pronouncing the letters out, one by one.  The weather must be taking some part in my interpretation of the material perhaps.  Last week I was more drawn to the increased dependency on translations for non-Chinese speakers, and outside the window didn't seem too sunny.  This week, however, is sunny, and warm, you can feel the breath of the soft wind.  And the reading experience becomes more spiritual, and the letters seem to come more alive in my ears w/ each sound spelled out.  Letters are fairly arbitrary things in my humble opinion, as they express abstract ideas.  When written, the language is preserved.  Yingelishi reminds me of the importance of speaking, and perhaps the void/mismatch in the relationship between different languages.
   I would even argue that it brings out the connectability between those different languages in a playful way, rather than alienating one from another.

Thea on Yingelishi

Reading Yingelishi was an experience that tore me in different ways.  I started to feel as if the spaces between the lines grew into the spaces between the words, which then grew, further into the spaces between the languages, and then the spaces between the poetic and the non-poetic with no audio connecting.  I felt myself reading a word as a full poem, seeing a character as a drawing, seeing a line of words as just that -- a line of words, of symbols.

Emily on Yingelishi

I think I much prefer Yingelishi as an audio experience, however, the written text offers a kind of isolation separate from the meaning offered in the video.  The transparency of the pages allows for the layers of text to create ghostly images which deepen the concept of language just beyond reach.  Hearing the text forces the foreignness of the message out into the open, whereas the written text hides this complexity by letting the reader dismiss the characters not familiar to them.

Wesley on Yingelishi

Yingelishi, Jonathan Stallings' Sinophonic opera is the elegant, fluid clashing of two very diverse languages.  from its varied formats: visual and audio, read and spoken, spoken and heard, the work speaks to the notion of translation as sound and sound as meaning.  I was intrigued by the format of the poems/translations/transformations in the book.  For me, the lines evoked shadows, one line to the next, that cast diluted meanings and understandings to the user but eventually becomes the profound product of the process.

word of the week

SPACE

The Last Poetry Show Tonight (4.6.12)!

Promise Breaker

"The college library is no longer fulfilling any of the promises it made when it was first built."
-- Andrea

GIANT OPEN ROOM

Six years have passed.  It is not scary to have a Giant Open Room in College Building anymore.
What do you think of this generative GOR????????

The GOR

"I found, inside a hidden cabinet of the old library, a page of policy regarding the use of the empty library, written immediately after it was stripped of purpose. It is clear it was written in a time of uncertainty and change for the library. The library still sits in the same limbo, but seems to me to have settled more comfortably into its position.

                  
While only 5 years old, the harsh, legal language used to describe the library seems utterly useless and silly now, and the work of this class directly violates the harsh stipulations set forth. No-one really cares. It is not scary to have a giant open room in the college building anymore."


-- Kevin

Sound Assignment Critique Notes (Sample)

• Did you consider having this as an interactive piece where the audience also contributes to the atmosphere?
• Why is it meant to be heard in a quiet space if it is commenting on the absence of silence?  Sounds almost as if the piece is addressing your own fear of silence.  The need to feel connected.  the honesty, truth, reality that silence offers.  And how humanity tries to avoid it at all costs.
• "Sweating like Demons they scream through our speakers but we leave the sound on cause silence is harder."
• "Why are you so petrified of silence?  You can think about your bills your acts your deadlines or when you think you're going to die."
• not very many real installations
• no collaboration
• I should have better prepared the presentation of my project (clearly more interesting what I witnessed than what I presented to the class)
• Jay's poem looks great with oppressive white space on top.  More?  Install it?
• Some people have great ideas and then refuse to explore them to any extent.  It is lazy and frustrating.  I can't tell whether I explored at all or not.
• If everyone had time & energy & will to devote full attention to their projects and flesh them out fully + deliberately, this class would be jaw dropping.
• There is a lot of potential energy in this room with these people
• I hope our final projects are awesome
• I hope I give myself more time for the next project
• Should I be critiquing projects in this class, or accepting them for what they are?
• What's better -- ambitious but unrealized, or small but perfectly executed?

What we have to diligently focus on is an act of transformation, which may be composite and recursive, not a big bang but a box of wonders (and more), i.e., to present to anyone who walks in a room in which intelligence has played and made results manifest, cumulatively and as a final event, uniquely to this opportunity.

Between Page and Screen

by BUZZ POOLE · 1 COMMENT

 

  

  

via Between Page and Screen

Between Page and Screen, a ground-breaking collaboration between poet and book artist Amaranth Borsuk and programmer Brad Bouse, is truly a first: a book that only can be read when simultaneously using a codex book and a computer’s webcam. When placed in front of a webcam, the black shapes printed on the pages, sans words, trigger animated text on the screen, revealing a correspondence between characters P and S.

As e-readers continue to gain market share within the publishing industry and the “future of the book” remains a much bandied about phrase amongst publishers, writers, agents, booksellers, and readers, Between Page and Screen has embraced the what-ifs and used them to achieve their true potential, an astoundingly realized book that shuns either/or designations. It champions both the book’s esteemed history by valuing ink printed on the page and also celebrates the potential of digital technologies that are resulting in all of us, no matter our preferences, having to change how we read.

via Between Page and Screen

Between Page and Screen is an entirely new reading experience, and no matter if you favor codex books or e-readers, reading this book makes you acutely aware of the act of reading it. Properly situating the book in front of your computer’s webcam takes a bit of practice but once you get the hang of it the pun-rich missives between P and S are unleashed. Certain entries initially show up on the screen as if you are reading them in a mirror, and it takes some maneuvering to arrive at that aha moment when you realize you just need to turn the page around to invert the text. Soon enough, the reading experience pulls you in like any other. Word-play animations splice up the word “hear” into “he” and “ear.” The letters between P and S speak to the project’s larger themes, making assertions like “page don’t cage me in” and “a screen is a shield, but also a veil”; asking questions like “What are boundaries anyway?”

Clearly, for the authors, boundaries are little more than challenges, which they have met head on, daunted not in the least, creating a reading experience unlike any other. Innovators like Borsuk and Bouse prove that the future of the book should be something we all consider with optimism provided we think beyond current expectations and strive to build new ones.

The authors were kind enough to answer the following questions via email.

via Siglio Press

How did the project take shape? Did the two of you set out to make the book as it exists or did it grow out of various other projects and interests?

We did set out to make the book as it exists. The content and the construction arose together out of our conversations about augmented reality (AR) and the way it puts text between the page and screen. In thinking about the relationship this sets up between print and digital objects, we got the idea for an artist’s book that explores that between space. We had been talking about collaborating on a project for some time, but we didn’t want the digital aspect, which is Brad’s specialty, to seem simply “added on” to the poems, which are Amaranth’s specialty. We wanted there to be a reason to use new media, and AR provided us the perfect marriage of print and digital that wouldn’t privilege one over the other, and that would highlight the importance of the reader in activating any book’s text.

What do you mean in saying that augmented reality “puts text between the page and screen”?

We mean that the text is not available on one or the other platform, but in the between space opened up by the reader who has access to both. On its own, the book provides only minimalist grid shapes and the screen provides only the reader/viewer's image. But when the two are paired, the text appears – and it's at that very juncture where the reader's image and the book object meet that the words arise.

Had you already written the exchanges between P and S?

Once we had the idea for an exploration of the relationship between page and screen, the “relationship” began to take shape in relation to a number of literary forebears that use the conceit of letters, from Ovid to Griffin and Sabine. Amaranth then started to write the letters P and S trade back and forth.

Is this project a natural evolution in your background as a poet and book artist, Amaranth, or is it a result of feeling unfulfilled by traditional codex books as they exist in today’s screen-based culture?

I see it as a natural evolution. I’m not dissatisfied with codex books at all – I think there are certain things they do incredibly well, and other things that e-books and electronic literature works do well. I am, however, interested in our changing relationship with book objects and the way the shape of the book is changing in response to the proliferation of screen-based reading devices. For me, the most important thing is that the book has some reason for the form it takes. Between Page and Screen simply wouldn’t be the same book if the poems were printed on the page or at a website. It needs the “between” in order to make sense. I don’t think all books need to go that route, and I’m ready to turn to whichever apparatus best helps me tell the story I want to tell or explore the themes I want to explore.

via Between Page and Screen

More and more I’m convinced that the essence of a story is indifferent to technological developments. What changes is how the story is told or delivered, enhanced or altered by cultural shifts, from how the oral tradition faded away with scrolls and the printing press, etc. What would you say to that?

If you mean that the hallmarks of engaging writing remain largely unchanged despite technological shifts, I would say there's some truth in that. But I do believe that the experience of reading a story changes with the medium through which we receive it. Between Page and Screen wouldn't be or do exactly the same thing if the poems were printed in a book. Primacy would be given to the page.

I do think that where poetry is concerned technological shifts can have a dramatic effect on the shape and content of the work (the impact of the typewriter on the "look" of twentieth-century poetry is well-established, for example). And ideological shifts in what writers want to do with poetry influence its shape as well. I don't know that there's a single "essence" of poetry that remains unchanged over time, unless we talk about it as an engagement with language. But there are so many different kinds of poetry that it becomes difficult to generalize, I think.

In setting out to create Between Page and Screen were you aware of early experiments in electronic/digital books and their presentation, like Robert Coover’s Cave and Bob Stein’s Institute for the Future of the Book?

Very much so! Amaranth is a member of the Electronic Literature Organization, and has been studying new media writing since she was in graduate school at USC (coincidentally, that’s where she learned of Stein’s work with if:Book). Her dissertation on poets’ use of writing technologies that allow for a distributed idea of authorship spanned from modernism to contemporary digital poetry, and she has studied and written on interactive text works from early hypertexts, to Flash animations, to crowd-sourced poems.

Amaranth, in your dissertation what sorts of “writing technologies” are you referring to in terms of modernist poets? I’m imagining Pound in his cage in Italy, watching birds and scrawling Chinese characters in the dirt with eucalyptus nibs. Is that what you mean, or is it more about carbon copies and linotype?

My dissertation primarily concerned Swiss poet Blaise Cendrars's use of the typewriter (he had lost a hand in the First World War and it facilitated his writing greatly, but also served as a kind of muse and musical instrument) and American poet H.D.'s use of projective mediumship (the figure of the medium who can project images out of her body and into the room around her recurs in her WWII writings). I connect these poets to contemporary writers for whom technology offers access to a world of language outside the poet and a kind of collaborator in putting words on the page (both writers suggest that the words are being channeled through them thanks to the machine). Pound was highly skeptical of what H.D. was doing in the war years, especially her spiritualism.

via Siglio Press

What books, films, and/or artworks do you count among your favorite in terms of helping to inspire Between Page and Screen?

Dieter Roth’s artist’s books, particularly his die-cut books, were definitely an influence on the shape of the book and the cover. The poems were heavily influenced by concrete poetry, particularly the work of Emmett Williams (whose Sweethearts is one of Amaranth’s favorite books), Mary Ellen Solt, and Decio Pignatari, among others. In the electronic literature world, Camille Utterback’s Text Rain is also an inspiration. The epistles themselves are influenced by and draw heavily upon the American Heritage Dictionary of Indo-European Word Roots. I’m sure there are more that we’re forgetting!

Would you expand a bit on how the Indo-European word roots play into the letters?

The letters are full of puns, homophones, and word play using words that share the Indo-European roots of “page” and “screen.”

Page comes from the roots pag- and pak-, which means to fasten or join together. It gives us words about connection, like “pact,” “peace,” “appease,” “pacify,” “pawl,” “pole,” and “peasant.” The Latin root of page, pagina, means trellis (so at its heart, the page is metaphorically a trellis to which lines of writing are affixed).

Screen's root (s)ker-, means to shine, and it develops from a form that means to cut (the metonymic connection is that many cutting implements have a sheen). That root gives us words about protection and defense like “scabbard,” “shield,” “skirmish,” “shear,” “score,” “carnage,” “carrion,” and even “charcuterie” (from the Latin root caro, for flesh).

While the two different roots, one peaceful, the other militaristic conjure up two different personalities, there are points of connection between them. “Screen” gives us a few connecting words, too: “share” and the other “sheer,” as in translucent, also “incarnate.” Peace loving “page” gives us the violent “fang,” “impale,” and “impact.”

The poems play with those etymologies, giving the two bits of banter about their romantic compatibility.

Read more: Between Page and Screen — Imprint-The Online Community for Graphic Designers 
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Between Page and Screen