COLUMNS

  • Music

    the Poetics

    “IN THE END, this work is not so much a portrait of the Poetics as it is an examination of how a history is constructed. It concerns a period which is fairly recent and only now being historically considered. And in this examination, hopefully the prehistoricization of the Punk period will be perceived as a war for control of meaning—a war that one can still fully participate in. This history is not yet etched in stone.” The words are Mike Kelley’s, describing The Poetics Project, his multimedia contribution (with Tony Oursler) to last summer’s installment of Documenta. Incredibly rich source

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  • Music

    Komar & Melamid

    Used to be, Good and Bad were easy. Good was worthy, but a little dull: Little Nell, Jimmy Carter, the Queen Mum. Bad was dangerous but infinitely interesting: Byron, Lucifer, Mae West. But this century’s idea of the banality of evil has shifted the game, making Bad dull, and a turnoff. Komar & Melamid have been making hay out of the categorical confusion.

    Understanding that in America, moral or aesthetic judgments (Good, Bad) tend to conflate with statistical ones (most liked, least liked), the two developed a practice of designing paintings through market research. Now they’ve extended their

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  • Books

    Michael Fried

    ANYONE WITH SERIOUS interest in visual art needs to read this book: that is simply the judgment of history, which supersedes any mere reviewer’s recommendation. So conspicuous has been Michael Fried’s profile as high Modernism’s most forceful and articulate standard-bearer that the detailed substance underlying this reputation has been more often assumed than examined or reexamined. The appearance of this collection removes any reason for such carelessness.

    It has been some three decades since the defining essays of this collection first appeared. In that long intervening period, Fried gave up

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  • Passages

    Roy Lichtenstein

    ROY AND I HAD these little talks whenever I got shaky about dying. No one else I knew seemed so certain about death’s vacant aftermath, and seemed so certain without bravado or dread. He had no fear of death, he said. You were just gone and out. As for any aftermath, Roy was going to leave his soul to science.

    So much for what I’d already known. In this arena (and perhaps this was the only one), there were no consolations forthcoming from Roy. Why did I bother to ask? Just to hear him repeat how unfearful he was, I suppose. For the tonic effect it might have on me.

    Hemingway said that one of the

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  • Books

    The Baffler

    READING THE BAFFLER—a decade-old journal of vitriolic cultural criticism published out of Chicago—for the first time, I felt the experience was as close as I would ever get to samizdat literature. The comparison is overstated, of course, but captures my enthusiasm exactly. At a time when left-wing cultural critique seemed caught between the undertheorized multiculturalism of the academy and the irrelevant whimperings of “mainstream” left journalism, The Baffler raged with unreconstructed fervor against the pieties of what it called “Information Age capitalism” and against the careful embrace of

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  • Music

    Harry Smith

    WHEN I BEGAN PLAYING the Anthology of American Folk Music, I started bouncing the name of its compiler, Harry Smith, off art-world friends, and also the not completely coidentical group with whom I like to swap opinions about rock ‘n’ roll, and no one had heard of him. But Smith—born 1923, died 1991—was certainly some kind of artist, and rock music would not be what it is without him. Issued in 1952 as a set of eighty-four recordings from the late ’20s and early ’30s, all culled from Smith’s collection, the Anthology was hugely important to the musicians and audiences behind the folk revival of

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  • Music

    Bob Dylan

    I HEARD A TRACK from Bob Dylan's new Time Out of Mind (Columbia) on the radio a few weeks before the album’s release. I didn’t recognize the voice right away, but I was moved by its unique and powerful sound, like a venerable, shamanic Delta blues man backed by some weird, Tom Waits–like band. It was profound blues, ancient and future music.

    Before the song was over it hit me that it was Dylan with another new voice: deep, dark, aged in wood, like maybe the same wood Dante Alghieri wrote about rambling in. Dylan is a spiritual itinerant and his Time Out of Mind has ramblin’ music for all forms

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  • Top Ten

    Greil Marcus

    Greil Marcus is a contributing editor of Artforum. An excerpt from his book Lipstick Traces is included in A Life in Pieces: Reflections on Alexander Trocchi edited by Allan Campbell and Tim Niel (Rebel inc., Edinburgh).

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  • Slant

    paparazzi

    I LOVE PAPARAZZI. Perhaps I should qualify that statement. I know none personally. I’ve never been accosted by one. I’ve never stood on the blitzkrieg flash’s receiving end. (However, at press events, I’ve been bumped against, jostled, and pushed aside by jutting telephoto lenses.) I assume—wrongly?—that most paparazzi are pushy men, and I don’t like to be pushed around; nonetheless, I love paparazzi. They resemble (in a cheerfully debased form that nevertheless remains true to the high original) a kind of perverse artist I’ve long held dear—the artist who doesn’t merely represent a desire,

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  • Passages

    Douglas Huebler

    I WAS INTRODUCED TO Doug Huebler in 1968 by Seth Siegelaub, a soon-to-be former dealer who at the time was showing Robert Barry’s and Lawrence Weiner’s paintings and the work of a few others as well as Doug’s Formica sculptures (as these artists’ work changed, so did the nature of Seth’s activity). Doug had strength, grace, and a kind of wizened humility, all qualities that I, at twenty-three, frankly lacked. He also had maturity—when I was born in 1945, Doug was serving as a sergeant in the US Marine Corps. The image of him as a Marine fit in with the strong impression he made physically. He

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