foucault quoting roussel on stars on the head

(specifically Impressions of Africa:)

“The third performer at the gala of Incomparables, Bob Boucharessas, four years old, bears on his forehead the star of imitation: ‘With an astonishing mastery and a miraculously precocious talent, the charming tot began a routine of imitations executed with eloquent gestures: the various sounds of a train starting up, all the calls of barnyard animals, the grating of a saw on ashlar stone, the sudden popping of the cork of a bottle of champagne, the glug-glug of liquid being poured, the fanfare of a hunting horn, a violin solo, the plaintive melody of a cello – these formed a dazzling repertory able to create for anyone who would momentarily close his eyes the total illusion of reality.’ “

(Michel Foucault, Death and the Labyrinth: the world of Raymond Roussel, trans. Charles Ruas, p. 49)

(connected: this and this.)

ciel, michel butor est vivant !

It turns out that Michel Butor is still alive. Not only is he alive, he’s coming to New York! which possibly I am the only person excited about. An ad in the print version of the Brooklyn Rail declares that he’s appearing with Brian Evenson on Friday the 28th of April at 7pm at Roebling Hall, 606 West 26th Street in Chelsea. Hosted by BR fiction editor Donald Breckenridge.

effingham

“Max smiled. He said, ‘I shall take refuge in the Phaedrus. You remember at the end Socrates tells Phaedrus that words can’t be removed from place to place and retain their meaning. Truth is communicated from a particular speaker to a particular listener.’

‘I stand rebuked! I recall that passage. But it is a reference to mystery religions, isn’t it?’

‘Not necessarily. It can apply to any occasion of learning the truth.’

‘Do you think Hannah – desires the true good?’

Max said after a long silence during which Effingham found himself nodding with sleep, ‘I’m not sure. And I don’t think you can tell me. It may all be to meet some need of my own. I’ve meant all my life to go on a spiritual pilgrimage. And here I am at the end – and I haven’t even set out.’ He spoke with a sudden fierceness, cutting and lighting a cigar with quick precision and moving the ash-tray farther down the table with a loud clack. He added, ‘Perhaps Hannah is my experiment! I’ve always had a great theoretical knowledge of morals, but practically speaking I’ve never done a hand’s turn. That’s why my reference to the Phaedrus was damned dishonest. I don’t know the truth either. I just know about it.’ ”

(Iris Murdoch, The Unicorn (1963), pp. 100–101.)

effingham i

(Frank Stella, Effingham I (1967), in the Van Abbemuseum.)

marsden hartley/fountain

I wish I could find a better image online of Marsden Hartley’s 1913 painting The Warriors:

the warriors, small

It’s the background in Alfred Steiglitz’s photograph of Duchamp’s Fountain in The Blind Man:

fountain from the blind man

It’s odd that the backdrop to such a well-known photo seems to have so little existence online.

(There’s a slightly larger version in this essay by Marjorie Perloff, but that’s in black and white. She does note how similar the urinal looks to Hartley’s painting.)

(Related: Ron Silliman goes to see the Dada show in D.C. and is somewhat disappointed. He does catch what’s wrong with the show there.)