Aaron Andrews. Professor Aristotle. Nelson Asplundher. John M. Bennett. Megan Blafas. Tomislav Butkovic. William Clippenger. Bradley Chriss. The Artful Dodger. David Beris Edwards. Imogene Engine. Warren Fry. bela b. Grimm. David Hartke. Crinoll Hasdan. Chi-Kit Kwong. Olchar Lindsann. Netel McBurgenger. Emily Panzeri. Høratiø Negersky. Constantine Nellson. Fast Sedan Nelson. Harold Nelsonn. Harry Nelsonn. Two-Sheds Nelson. Chad Niral-Nelson. Amy Oliver. Professor Aristotle. The Post-NeoAbsurdist Institute for Anti-Rational Affairs. Miss Ricketts. Sir Alan Sugar. Eleanor Francis Waterfowl............................................................................................. Warren Fry in New Brunswick, New Jersey:
Etkilendikleri
Blaster Al Ackerman. Pierre Albert-Birot. Reed Altemus. Gillaume Apollinaire. Louis Aragon. Hans Arp. Antonin Artaud. Johannes Baader. Johannes Baargeld. Hugo Ball. Roland Barthes. Henri-Martin Barzun. Lauren Bender. Bill Bissett. William Blake. Luther Blisset. Jaap Blonk. Casey Bradley. George Brecht. Andre Breton. Marcel Broodthers. Monty Cantsin. Lewis Carroll. Rhiannon Chaloner. Henri Chopin. College of 'Pataphysics. Arthur Cravan. Dada. Guy Debord. Jaques Derrida. Paul De Vree. Otto Dix. Isadore Ducasse. Marcel Duchamp. Karen Eliot. Paul Eluard. Max Ernst. Fluxus. Bruno Franklyn. Else von Freytag-Loringhoven. Henry Flynt. Melissa Foster. Futurism. Germseed. Mark Greenwood. George Grosz. Raoul Hausmann. John Heartfield. Emmy Hennings. Hannah Hoch. Stewart Home. Royce Icon. Robert Inhuman. Max Jacob. Marcel Janco. Alfred Jarry. Lautreamont. Edward Lear. Jim Leftwich. Maurice Lemaitre. Edward Lense. H.P. Lovecraft. Solamito Lugiano. Captain Lunchpail. George Maciunas. Filippo Marinetti. Justin McKeown. Irene Moon. Christian Morganstern. Crabb Murlock. Neoism. Rea Nikonova. Nile. Nunism. one.c. Krista Faist. Ken Friedman. Nick Hallam. Happy Logies. Richard Huelsenbeck. Istvan Kantor. Jessy Kendall. Oulipo. Nam June Paik. Lia Pas. Francis Picabia. Alan Reed. Man Ray. Ashley Reaks. Georges Ribemont-Dessaignes. Raymond Roussel. Ric Royer. Luigi Russolo. Jessica Rylan. Eric Satie. Eric Schickel. Kurt Schwitters. Joshua Seyfried. Roland Silnachen. Situationism. T.P. Slinty. Helen Smerdnakov. Nick Solsman. Philippe Soupault. SPART Action Group. Surrealism. Jan Svenkmeijer. Symbolism. Sophie Tauber. Thomas L. Taylor. Andrew Topel. Toronto Research Group. Tristan Tzara. Raoul Vaniegam. Edgard Varese. Natalie Walbaum. Ipollit Wheeden. Emmet Williams. Kath Wynne. Frank Zappa.............................................................................................. Brad Chriss performs meat poem at the Bearded Synapse Cabaret, Columbus, OH.
Neye Benziyor?
The Itinerant Mirror in Exeter, UK
....................................................................................................................................... for more Post-Neo Performance: http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=WordGraith
Plak Şirketi
mOnocle-Lash Anti-Press: monocle-lash@hotmail.com
Post-NeoAbsurdist Anti-Collective | En Son Blog Yazısı
[Bu Bloga Abone Ol]
Post-NeoAbsurdism is MUCH larger than a breadbox! Post-NeoAbsurdism is a battlecry without words! Post-NeoAbsurdism is a battlecry comprised of every word you can stuff into a brain! ENOUGH with covenant moderations! ENOUGH with calcified inefficiencies, art withered to a husk of scholastic aspirations! ENOUGH with arithmetic protestations of tubercular inevitability! ENOUGH with cowardice promenading in the scabskin of the husk of skinned creation! ENOUGH with withered excuses for the salacious murder of art, stretched on a snow-white rack, dripping tar! ENOUGH with ART DE-CLAWED AND EXHIBITED AS PORNOGRAPHY FOR IMPOTENT AND DISCURSIVE MINDS!
Post-NeoAbsurdism will tear you out of the gallery and make you watch it burn as we dance in the flames. We will shove claws into the soft flesh of your fingertips and then we will force you to ENJOY it.
POST-NEOABSURDISM IS A KIND OF VISCIOUS PRANK
pulled by cunning tribes of cannibalistic artists at the expense of the NOBILITY who live on wine and small pieces of cheese in their marble palaces marked: MUSEUM
GALLERY
PUBLISHING HOUSE
which double as places where great art is hung on a golden gibbet to squirm and die.
POST-NEOABSURDISTS, thirsty for the veins of sheep, often roam about the peripheries of these temples to the great Commerce-Gods, picking off the chosen if they stray too far from the vigilant eyes of their dealers, agents, and pimps.
These victims often whimper and cry, waving press notices, bills of sale, and thick multisyllabic statements proclaiming their immaculate education in the various catch-words, intellectual excuses, and commercial and theoretical understandings-direct-to-the-academic-chair, shouting at us wide-eyed,:
“But I have been anointed!”
“But I have done and said everything I have been taught!”
“But I have followed all the invisible postmodern rules!”
“But the Academy has assured me THIS IS GOOD ART!”
THANKFULLY, WE DO NOT MAKE GOOD ART
and these rules are like so many spittoons in which we hurl our masticated ideas before taking a bite from a different ideology.
OUR ART MUST ASPIRE TOWARD GREATNESS OR INSULT.
It must be FUN and it must be TERRIFYING.
We fail constantly. This is our charter.
Zebra Character belittling horseradish, and a sock is a municipal headrest that flutters and cheese-dressings whispered about a vent that flapped its junk over the contaminated fruit-basket.
SIC SEMPER ABSURDUS! VITA BREVIS, ARS MORTIS! HASTA LA DADA! BAR BAR BAR! ANTI- ANTI- ANTI-!..............................................................................................................................................................Post-Neo communiques: http://postneo.aceboard.com......................................................................................................................Meat Poem at the Itinerant Mirror Cabaret, King Ludd, Exeter, UK with D.B. Edwards, O. Lindsann, N. Waldbaum & K. Wynne:
John M. Bennett performs 'Taem' and the classic 'The Shirt the Sheet' at the Beaded Synapse Cabaret, Columbus, OH.
Post-NeoAbsurdist Anti-Collective | Arkadaşlar (En İyi 11)
"Vadge Moore is an American author and musician that has spent a lifetime testing the boundaries of good and evil. He toured and recorded with the infamous sleaze-punk institution The Dwarves, apocalyptic rock group Neither-Neither World, and his own nihilist-noise unit Chthonic Force. He has written for the early nineties occult journal Primal Chaos, the esoteric magazine Dagobert's Revenge, and the controversial web 'zine Synthesis. Recently Vadge has taken up an aphoristic-prose style of writing that best expresses his iniquitous and sinister insights into the mind of Man. Chthonic: Prose & Theory is just that; prose wedded to theory that scrutinizes the human, all too human, Monster that is Man."
"Chthonic: Prose & Theory" is a collection of perverse and violent prose wedded to his own brand of occult esoterica. Peer into the mind of one of America's greatest living libertines.
Erik Davis, Boyd Rice, Antero Alli, Orryelle, Aesthetic Meat Front, Carl Abrahamsson, Chad Hensley, Vadge Moore, Vincent Alexzànder, Stefan Szczelkun. Andrew Mckenzie, Brian Dean, Magus Coyotel Leyba, Center for Tactical Magic, Critical Art Ensemble.
ANTIBOTHIS Cd Compilation: O Yuki Conjugate, Controlled Bleeding, MILF (ex: bourbonese qualk), Enkidada ( former member of Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia/Exquisite Corpse), Cotton Ferox, Aesthetic Meat Front, Orryelle, Strings of Consciousness, Hybrids.
"Electronic Thisturbance" Cd Compilation offer: Along with the book/cd volume 2, the spokenword/oral cut up cd compilation "Electronic Thisturbance" will be offered, featuring, Jarboe, Francisco Lopez, Terre Thaemlitz, Gx Juppiter Larsen, Von Magnet, Rasalasad+Sci fi Industries, Telepherique, Wild Shores.
Mtoavhit ndg aoenr , ttshuej ree va'rI e each other on eogtahsesr aip nefclnue p.rmoevhe t phrtoibw lreamialtiimc atfo it was then that I nBu reirta iyseh hct reistuiaccse, b Aelhtt h,onuogih tdceijf aprlguop nfio of the urinals seegd aaungd nrael nedhet rnei d i.nefrleuh eknrcoe w otf a asni ttii-I rest my legs on eOleedwiephaT l stuhaeloK rsia shtcs us
DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY SPACE OF YOUR SCREEN IS OCCUPIED BY ADVERTISINGS? ANYWAY, WHAT ARE ADVERTISING SPACES? WHAT DO THEY REPRESENT?
Using the nine default sizes most advertisings on the web use, this project is an attempt to make those spaces visible to all in a very simple and objective way.
This project is primarily influenced by the work of Mel BOCHNER called Measurement Room.
Performance Note: [~~~] = Lip wibbling via finger manoeuvre.
Anti-Lobe III – For Prof. Aristotle
O tyrant of the cabaret, O cylinder of Pong (Ping).
When will you learn?
When will you wash?
When will you retire?
[~~~~~~~~~~~]
Need any help with that?
Anti-Lobe VI - For Miss Rickets
[~~]
22-09-14-05-07-01-18/14-15-20
07-15-15-04/05-14-15-21-07-08
06-15-18/25-15-21?
(05-08?)
[~~~~~~]
And to think you’re made of rubber.
Anti-Lobe VIII – For Sir Alan Sugar
Tinkler, thinkler, thunkler [~]
I’m sorry I ran away from you.
I really thought you’d do it (explode).
Hordes of sweet light posers make way for people who have something to say. We enjoy our anti-stance and charge into battle where fireworks light up the sky, we stop on the way to shake hands and say hi!
It is time to protest en-mass and stand up for ourselves and our college.
By now, we are all aware of the current situation concerning the imminent destruction of Dartington as we know it. The simple fact is that we are faced with the loss of an experience that has no equal.
There is nowhere else like Dartington. Think of the college, the lecturers, the gardens, Totnes, the creativity, the freedom, the fields/hills/rivers, and most importantly, the students. Where else do you find students like these, and a place like this?
Each and every one of us is going to leave this place knowing that we will probably be the last. Three or more years worth of life/artistic experience – probably the best years of our lives – are going to become a distant, irretrievable memory. We are going to be faced with the loss of the ONLY institution of its kind.
It is vital that our voice is heard further a-field. This is the perfect opportunity to show fellow students, towns people, Trustees and the world in general; how much we care about this issue.
We may not be politicians, millionaires, legal experts or Inspector Gadget, however the one important thing we must do right now is to Shout out that this is not right, as a united body of 580 students.
This is what has been arranged.
The save Dartington festival that has been organised for the 28th January is a huge opportunity to gather the college, and to show that we care, but that is not all we are going to do.
Below is a list of other events, prioritised by a 580-strong march into Totnes.
This leaflet will automatically reach all 1st yrs most 2nd yrs, and some 3rd yrs. Tell everyone else that you know, and better still, make sure they come. Even in the event that all this is not enough to help the final conclusion, the events should make a big impression, and we keep our integrity.
Anyone who ‘can’t be bothered’ to take part, or has some trivial excuse for not involving themselves should ask themselves: Why am I here?
• Sunday 28th January. – Student March
580 students meet on the lawns around the great hall at 12noon, and we then march through Totnes. Banners, instruments and vocal expression are welcome. Show people we care, and show Totnes what it is losing.
• Tuesday 23th January. Banner-Making Workshop.
This will take place in studio 10, the old programmes office.
At five o' clock. Please try to supply your own materials.
As well as using these to protest, we can appropriate the
spaces around college. Hang banners from the walls
and the windows, decorate Higher Close and Foxhole
residencies, etc.
Gather each House of residency, and make a project.
Work together.
• Candlelit Vigil for a Trust event. 23rd January outside the archway at 6.45pm.
Bring candles!
• There are more plans for the future, keep your ears open for more information!!!...
Questions to be asked
• The Trust have made moves to patent the name Dartington College of Arts, so as to take control of the intellectual property and reputation of the college.
Do they seek to create their own ‘Dartington’ experience, of which we have no part?
• The responsibility for the maintenance of buildings on Dartington estate lies with the trust, and yet they have left their own property to rot. This issue has now been forwarded as a reason to get us out.
Has the trust displayed negligence in this issue? We must ask
ourselves if this was a purposeful action, in the hope that the college
would be left with nowhere to turn? Or could it be that the ‘trust’, a
group of individuals with such widespread credentials, could somehow
manage to ‘accidentally’ do the exact opposite of their very reason for
being?
• The situation has been actively kept hidden from students and staff alike, only to be leaked at the last minute, leaving very little time for any positive solutions to be found.
• The trust has removed relevant information from the college library. Documents produced from trust meetings have been taken out of the public domain for 30 years. The only way of accessing these is through the Freedom of Information Act. Ironically, James Cornford is the chair man for the ‘Campaign for the Freedom of Information’! (He is also the chairman of Dartington Trust…)
• Possible abuse of public funding, including massive investment in a new studio complex for lower close: Property which will surely be retained by the trust if Dartington College is forced out.
There are questions to be asked about the exchange of the lease documents, which are believed to still be in the possession of the trust, leaving the college in a difficult position.
Grandpa dropped his glasses
Fires rise up from the bones of myself.
The bogeyman’s heading downtown to troll the fast-food dumpsters.
He’s gone crazy again.
He’s ploughing fields that are long gone.
I rock back, starburst on the horizon.
Adeline comes out to play and startles the man who trades gold with the parents of ghosts.
At the supper-table I see potatoes dressed as slippers; my obscene soul glimpsing the downpour of eternity.
I explain that I’m lost, hungry and frightened, like a dragonfly crawling up bits of black felt.
The prong slips me a zoetrope.
The zoetrope is in a cup.
The cup slips me a jam butty.
The jam butty is in a quandry.
The quandry slips me a hatpin.
The hatpin is in a bag of flumps.
The bag of flumps slips me a Prime Minister.
The Prime Minister is in a nest of crocodiles.
The nest of crocodiles slips me a photocopy of yesterday's betting tips.
The photocopy of yesterday's betting tips is in a bag made from the knees of fallen kestrels.
The bag made from the knees of fallen kestrels slips me a photocopy of yesterday's betting tips.
The photocopy of yesteday's betting tips is in a nest of crocodiles.
The nest of crocodiles slips me a Prime Minister.
The Prime minister is in a bag of flumps.
The bag of flumps slips me a hatpin.
The hatpin is in a quandry.
The quandry slips me a jam butty.
The jam butty is in a cup.
The cup slips me a zoetrope.
The zoetrope is in a prong.
I bake them fourteen loaves of albatross.
They all do a dance.
I like it.
six hundred and fourteen I love you
atop the battlements of whizz-BANG fabulous castrations
misguided but still beating the habitual air against our fists and skulls and loins
remember the trophy we placed on a sand-dune?
it was giggling like a mophead and jousting with chairs
it was utterly serious when it said you were hilarious
and it had spaghetti instead of a limousine
do not think I have forgotten
the monocle-molar is chewing on disposable cud
it is not that I am not still laughing
but I have choked on myself on the way down
and this is the joke I have taken up as my home
stapled but upturned and forwarded to new adresses
thanked by many clamey faced
worried under a blanket and sundried olive branches
it hatched
plots for future dead people in March
steam gathers in the corners of glasses
hearing the trolleyman forge a voice painted army
umbrella-ed great-coated journeymen hudled
a throat in the morning
tired of rowing maple fricatives
under bombed out sand bridges and berms
shadowy radio wave
hears for five extra miles in every cardinal direction
concise english
through a vent in dusty room
and rustled up pedestal dander
scathed like a mail shirt but shuddered in lips
and the walls were a record
an arm acted as a needle
putting teeth against a shield
ears cuped the bug matted heaadlights
bunkered forms
likliest to enjoy ceremony over reception
or to be rattled by the oceanic lingual wind
