Tuesday, February 10, 2015, 6:30 pm
535 West 22nd Street, 5th Floor
New York City
Born in England before World War II, Basil King is a painter and a poet who has lived in Brooklyn since 1969. He attended Black Mountain College in North Carolina as a teenager and has been painting for the last six decades. He began to write in the 1980s and is now actively practicing both arts.
His books include Identity (2000), Warp Spasm (2001), Mirage: A Poem in 22 Sections (2003), 77 Beasts/Basil King’s Beastiary (2007), Learning to Draw/A History (2011), and, most recently, The Spoken Word/The Painted Hand (2014). In 2010 he exhibited his visual art at Poets House in New York. He is also the subject and narrator of a 2012 film, Basil King: Mirage, by the artists Nicole Peyrafitte and Miles Joris-Peyrafitte. In November 2014 he narrated Black Mountain Songs, including a few of his poems, as part the BAM Next Wave Festival.
Dan Flavin's pristine unorthodox use of florescent lighting controls all the material abundance that is conspicuous in van Eyck. Precious stones and knight's armor become saturated with light. A feeling of well-being drugs the Virgin, and she is quietly removed along with all the furniture that has accompanied the religious dogma of the church. A single light bulb can be dangerous. It can drive you mad. It can keep you awake all night and dismantle your senses. Light, decorative light, dismantled the frame, and the conception of painting as Flavin understood it ceased to exist. That was a responsibility that Flavin understood. He was willing to accept that his inventive non-sculptural light that decorated the walls, floors, and ceilings produced a product that emulated nothing but beautiful light.
Gregoire Pam Dick
Gregoire Pam Dick (aka Mina Pam Dick, Jake Pam Dick, et al.) is the author of METAPHYSICAL LICKS (BookThug, 2014) and DELINQUENT (Futurepoem, 2009). Also an artist and translator, Dick lives in New York City, where she is currently doing work that makes out and off with Büchner, Walser, and Michaux.
Our Drunken Boat
Georg liked Rimbaud, read him to me, then our craft paper got soaked. Schwester stürmischer Schwermut/Sieh ein ängstlicher Kahn versinkt/Unter Sternen,/Dem schweigenden Antlitz der Nacht. Also on his bisexual p. 74 it went silver. Greta’s brother Lukerl liked young men such as the thin French-Arab one, olive skin, dark curly hair, name him Hassan. Olive notebook the building she could build for her brother in the forest of the city of her head, it would be whole and simple. Except fragmented and complex. Leaves lit the window. The question about truth relative to the prose poems. Correspondence versus something else. Two features rejected which Greta or Gregoire wants back: correlation of language and world, importance of first person singular. Lukerl beautiful when young, and he and Gretal went into the forest. Lemon dots on white shirt. Reality if and only if poetic. Novalis’s magical thinking fights the analytic death grip. Supposed to redevelop my muscles, but I like my arms to be ’70s slender. Philosophy once an academic discipline. Leiden nicht. Now it’s a toy vessel. A paper boat. Or origami. The seas of language also folding in.