jeudi 22 février 2018

mardi 20 février 2018

One of Black Mask's first actions was to shut down the Museum Of Modern Art (MOMA). Tell us about what happened and the group's approach to direct action in general.

Ben: We felt that art itself, the creative effort, was an obviously worthwhile, valuable and even spiritual experience. The Museum and gallery systern separated art from that living interchange and had nothing to do with the vital, creative urge. Museums weren't a living house, they were just a repository. We were searching for ways to raise questions about how things were presented and closing down MOMA was just one of them.

The action was a success. We'd announced our plans in advance and they closed the museum in fear of what we might do. A lot of people stopped and talked with us about what we were doing and this action and others attracted radical artists to our fold.

At other times we disrupted exhibitions, galleries and lectures. Most of these actions were just thought up on the spot and a lot of what we did was part of a learning process. Things weren't completely thought out, but were a way for us to develop an understanding of our place in the ongoing struggle. A lot of political groups would have these big grandiose strategies and plans, but for us the actions were just a way of expressing ourselves and seeing how we could make a dent in society.

lundi 19 février 2018

GALERIE GERTRUDE STEIN | 24 East 81 Street | New York | 12. bis 30. Mai 1964

dimanche 18 février 2018

“As we all know deep down, it is not by submission, coolness, remoteness, apathy and boredom that great art is created, no matter what the cynics might tell us, the secret ingredient of great art is what is most difficult to learn, it is courage.”

NO!art Man is a documentary film about the Russian born artist Boris Lurie
who has lived and worked in New York since 1946.

$695 ?

Plausible deniability
Others are of the opinion that ChVK Wagner is really a unit of the Russian Ministry of Defence in disguise, which is used by the Russian government in conflicts where deniability is called for.

We intend to sing the love of danger, the habit of energy and fearlessness.
Courage, audacity, and revolt will be essential elements of our poetry.
Up to now literature has exalted a pensive immobility, ecstasy, and sleep. We intend to exalt aggresive action, a feverish insomnia, the racer's stride, the mortal leap, the punch and the slap.
We affirm that the world's magnificence has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of speed. A racing car whose hood is adorned with great pipes, like serpents of explosive breath—a roaring car that seems to ride on grapeshot is more beautiful than the Victory of Samothrace.
We want to hymn the man at the wheel, who hurls the lance of his spirit across the Earth, along the circle of its orbit.
The poet must spend himself with ardor, splendor, and generosity, to swell the enthusiastic fervor of the primordial elements.
Except in struggle, there is no more beauty. No work without an aggressive character can be a masterpiece. Poetry must be conceived as a violent attack on unknown forces, to reduce and prostrate them before man.
We stand on the last promontory of the centuries!... Why should we look back, when what we want is to break down the mysterious doors of the Impossible? Time and Space died yesterday. We already live in the absolute, because we have created eternal, omnipresent speed.
We will glorify war—the world's only hygiene—militarism, patriotism, the destructive gesture of freedom-bringers, beautiful ideas worth dying for, and scorn for woman.
We will destroy the museums, libraries, academies of every kind, will fight moralism, feminism, every opportunistic or utilitarian cowardice.
We will sing of great crowds excited by work, by pleasure, and by riot; we will sing of the multicolored, polyphonic tides of revolution in the modern capitals; we will sing of the vibrant nightly fervor of arsenals and shipyards blazing with violent electric moons; greedy railway stations that devour smoke-plumed serpents; factories hung on clouds by the crooked lines of their smoke; bridges that stride the rivers like giant gymnasts, flashing in the sun with a glitter of knives; adventurous steamers that sniff the horizon; deep-chested locomotives whose wheels paw the tracks like the hooves of enormous steel horses bridled by tubing; and the sleek flight of planes whose propellers chatter in the wind like banners and seem to cheer like an enthusiastic crowd.

Sam Durant, Landscape Art Sign (Emory Douglas), 2003 at the Wrong Gallery

We propose an esoteric hermeneutical exegesis of the Surrealist slogan “Mort aux vaches!” We take it to refer not to the deaths of individual cops (“cows” in the argot of the period)–mere leftist revenge fantasy–petty reverse sadism–but rather to the death of the image of the flic, the inner Control & its myriad reflections in the NoPlace Place of the media–the “gray room” as Burroughs calls it. Self-censorship, fear of one's own desires, “conscience” as the interiorized voice of consensus- authority. To assassinate these “security forces” would indeed release floods of libidinal energy, but not the violent running-amok predicted by the theory of Law 'n' Order.

Nietzschean “self-overcoming” provides the principle of organization for the free spirit (as also for anarchist society, at least in theory). In the police-state personality, libidinal energy is dammed & diverted toward self-repression; any threat to Control results in spasms of violence. In the free-spirit personality, energy flows unimpeded & therefore turbulently but gently–its chaos finds its strange attractor, allowing new spontaneous orders to emerge.

In this sense, then, we call for a boycott of the image of the Cop, & a moratorium on its production in art. In this sense…


samedi 17 février 2018

THE UNIVERSE WANTS TO PLAY. Those who refuse out of dry spiritual greed & choose pure contemplation forfeit their humanity–those who refuse out of dull anguish, those who hesitate, lose their chance at divinity–those who mold themselves blind masks of Ideas & thrash around seeking some proof of their own solidity end by seeing out of dead men’s eyes.

Hakim B.

vendredi 16 février 2018

Qui est Emmett Grogan ? Un jeune Irlando-Américain de Brooklyn couvert de taches de rousseur qui commence à se camer à treize ans. C'est aussi un cambrioleur de haute volée qui écume les beaux quartiers, impunément, parce que les flics recherchent un professionnel, pas un môme.
C'est encore un voyageur qui se retrouve à Paris pendant la guerre d'Algérie, dans les Alpes italiennes où il découvre la montagne, à Heidelberg lors de l'affaire de l'U-2, à Rome pendant les Jeux olympiques et où, ensuite, il connaît la prison puis étudie le cinéma, à Dublin enfin où il s'engage dans l'I.R.A.
Emmett Grogan, c'est, en 1966, le fondateur du légendaire groupe des «Diggers» de San Francisco, qui «libèrent» tous les jours des vivres et des vêtements pour les distribuer à des milliers de pauvres gens, hippies ou non.
Emmett Grogan, c'est surtout un conteur-né, un écrivain de grand talent, l'auteur d'une extraordinaire autobiographie, aussi profonde qu'explosive.
Plus que tout autre, Ringolevio symbolise la folie et la générosité des années 60.
Dix ans plus tard, le 1er avril 1978, Emmett Grogan «descendit» au terminus de Coney Island : on découvrit son corps dans une rame de métro, victime d'une overdose.

Pull My Daisy (1959)
Directed by Robert Frank and Alfred Leslie

Fugs performances were real-time meeting grounds for writers and pop stars. At one such event, the Fugs performed sets at an Andrei Voznesensky reading at the Village Theater in May 1967, an occasion that also featured readings by John Ashbery, Ted Berrigan, Gregory Corso, Paul Blackburn, Robert Creeley, Jerome Rothenberg, and Jackson Mac Low. Yet the Fugs’ presence at events such as these was as much an opportunity to celebrate poetry as it was a chance to make fun of it, whether it was poetry written by canonical authors or the Fugs’ own friends and contemporaries. It didn’t matter who the poets were—if they were self-important and too serious about being “radical,” the Fugs were coming after them. Even Amiri Baraka (formerly LeRoi Jones) found himself subject to the Fugs’ satire. Baraka, arrested in 1967 for illegal possession of firearms, was the author of the much-maligned poem “Black People!,” which was read out as evidence against him during his trial. The poem contained one of Baraka’s more notorious lines—“Up against the wall, motherfucker this is a stick up!” A cause célèbre following his arrest, Baraka was the last poet one could imagine making fun of. Sanders recalls a 1968 show in the East Village:

It was our annual concert in [Tompkins Square Park]. We had a new tune, which we performed with straw hats and canes and delivered in a kind of Al Jolson water-mouthed vocal, “Up Against the Wall, Motherfucker” (borrowed from a famous Amiri Baraka poem). The tune also satirized the group called the Motherfuckers, whose leaflets I’d often printed gratis at Peace Eye, whose logo on their publications was UAW/MF.

The Fugs’ refusal to take anything too seriously included both the histrionics of rock stardom and the radical chic of figures like Amiri Baraka and the Motherfuckers. While the Fugs certainly loved poetry and rock ’n’ roll, they actively satirized anyone who exploited either form to position him- or herself above the crowd.

"Do You Have a Band?"
Poetry and Punk Rock in New York City
Daniel Kane
Neil Zlozower

Curtis Moffat, 1926

Je suis l’inconnue, l’étrangère
Hors la loi, rejetée par les règles de la vie
Fidèle à une loi unique, une logique personnelle
Qui ne se mêle à rien et refuse de s’incliner
Devant les règles générales. 
The Enemy, Issue 1

Contradict yourself. In order to live, you must remain broken up.

Wyndham Lewis

Jacob Epstein
(Eliot Elisofon. 1952)