dan boehl

Rafael Varona’s “Impossible Bottles.”

A marvelous ongoing series by artist Rafael Varona entitled “Impossible Bottles” which involves animated, lively worlds encapsulated in bottles for us to gaze upon.

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Don’t miss Supersonic Art on Instagram!

oritoor:

the worst sunrise or the best sunset

In a comprehensive exhibition at its offshoot gallery in Augsburg, the Pinakothek der Moderne delves into the world of Jörg Immendorff (1945– 2007), presenting nearly 50 works by one of our era’s most provocative artists. Immendorff’s work is marked by his sustained confrontation with the political and aesthetic conditions that characterised divided post-war Germany. Today it remains a thorn in society’s side, provoking debate about artistic freedom and responsibility. Addressing contemporary themes with a dense, dissonant array of figures, Immendorff’s images resist simple interpretation and prompt a nuanced dialogue with art history. His work takes inspiration from sources as diverse as Hieronymus Bosch, Pieter Bruegel the Elder, and William Hogarth, as well as-

Bill Knott, one of my favorite living poets, is no longer living.

Bill Knott was one of my poetry idols, my model of a political poet, critical poet, contrarian poet, anti-establishment poet, anti-poet.

His poems changed my ideas of what poetry is and can be. They really did. I remember sitting in an IKEA chair in my hovel of an overheated Beacon Hill apartment in August of 2002, reading The Quicken Tree and thinking HOLY SHIT! In particular, the potato soup poem blew my mind. It is not a serious poem, and so it is a very serious poem.

He lived his life as performance art. Life as tragicomedy.

Bill Knott led my first workshop in grad school, at Emerson College in Boston, MA. In some ways he was a wonderful teacher. In some ways he was a terrible teacher. Recently I was asked to share the best and worst writing advice I'd ever gotten, and I attributed both to Bill Knott. I remember him making students cry, telling them he didn't understand what they were doing or why or that they weren't real poets. A student told him he was reading Lorca and Bill just shook his head. His sweaters always had holes in them. One day he offered me $5 for one of my poems.

I wish he could have known how much he meant to me. I was afraid to let him know, because he distrusted admiration. His grand act was "I'm unappreciated," but he deflected appreciation.

How does it feel to have The Unsubscriber brought out by Farrar, Straus and Giroux? 

Many sensitive souls in my line of business hold similar views: we actually prefer to work in low-budget independent films -- that's where the challenging roles are, that's where one can really grow as an artist, and that's why we're always appearing in big-studio blockbusters. But honest I TRIED to get Pitt and Iowa and Rat Vomit Review and Dan Halpern's National Poetry Series and all those other places to publish my book. I entered all their annual contests, or all the ones I could afford. But after their rejections, there was no recourse. I had to lower my hopes and eat crow. None of them would publish it, so I was forced to go with FSG.

That's from this Bookslut interview from 2005. Please, please read the whole thing. It's wonderful. So is this interview from Memorious. So is John's recent profile of Bill Knott at the Poetry Foundation. (John took a poetry class with Bill at Emerson as an undergrad; he made him want to be a poet.) (We talked about how much we loved him the night we met.)

I think everyone is still hoping it's a hoax. I hope it is. He's done it once before.

I will add more relevant links as they come to me. Love to my Emerson friends who also loved Bill, and love to my poet friends who are still alive.

Update:

Read the obit and four poems at Open Letters Monthly.

Read the memorial at Coldfront.

Read the Emerson story, which includes lovely quotes from colleagues/friends including John Skoyles and Tom Lux.

About 170 People

bonny-notion:

found this in a doctors office

im not convinced they know what drugs do

The spacesuit that Neil Armstrong wore when he stepped onto the moon was constructed by a bra manufacturer in Dover, Delaware. Smithsonian magazine tells the history of the Apollo suit:

For the suit’s creator, the International Latex Corporation in Dover, Delaware, the toughest challenge was to contain the pressure necessary to support life (about 3.75 pounds per square inch of pure oxygen), while maintaining enough flexibility to afford freedom of motion. A division of the company that manufactured Playtex bras and girdles, ILC had engineers who understood a thing or two about rubber garments. They invented a bellowslike joint called a convolute out of neoprene reinforced with nylon tricot that allowed an astronaut to bend at the shoulders, elbows, knees, hips and ankles with relatively little effort. Steel aircraft cables were used throughout the suit to absorb tension forces and help maintain its shape under pressure.

"Neil Armstrong’s Spacesuit Was Made by a Bra Manufacturer"

Watching this right now. Less than ideal.

Drakegoodman scanned this 1917-ish photo of Soviet planespotters in exotic headgear; according to a commenter, the binox are focused at infinity "so that when you found the source of the sound by turning your head, you could see the aircraft creating that sound."

WTF (via Bruce Sterling)

via http://i1.wp.com/24.media.tumblr.com/beaaa42a840de6393f4a1ef48c1594b5/tumblr_ms9gaatUYB1qkegsbo1_500.jpg?resize=500%2C751

Jeremy sez, "Flagger is a browser add-on that automatically puts red flag keywords (like bomb, Taliban and anthrax) into the web addresses you visit. Install Flagger and help us send a message: government surveillance has gone too far."

This is one of those ideas that sits on the threshhold between clever and dumb. You decide which for yourself.

It's time to make some noise.

Paintings of Airstream trailers by Leah Giberson

handa:

Likecool - Wapped skirt with illustration

tobascho:

punk ass bitch

I am just a random chick who follows your tumblr. But I had an odd dream with you in it: we were in a futuristic town in “Albania” with an alpine backdrop in a bar that sold pierogis and had an empty room in the back where one could just contemplate the walls. There was also a giant guitar. Congratulations on making my subconscious! 

mattbraunger:

Twitter is fun.

Love this.

very surprise