Adrian Slatcher reviews The Other Room 36 – Alec Newman, Nata Raha and Seekers of Lice

Even though the Other Room frequently  features three performers from the more experimental end of the poetry spectrum,
its rare that you can find more than cursory connections between them. On the surface, Alec Newman, Nat Raha and Seekers of Lice (actually a solo artist, called, I think, Anne), hadn’t much in common either but coincidentally all read sequences, and had some element of the improvisational in work that was otherwise very structured.

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Andrew Seems Popular by Mark Cobley reviewed at 3am

Although many of the lines in ‘Andrew Seems Popular’ have the feeling of being sourced from a primer, there are many lines which seem improbable: ‘That manager envied him his good fortune’. The idiom of this sentence works but not the subject, ‘manager’; when have we ever talked in this way? Another example is ‘The gardeners walked quickly’, as if two people were trying to catch a train who just happened to be gardeners. In many lines Cobley is attempting ‘bad’ poetry and doing it very successfully.

A review by James Davies of the excellent Andrew Seems Popular is available to read at the 3AM website.

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David Berridge: The Moth Is Moth This Money Night Moth review

This review was originally published in Department Magazine, issue 1. A number of ammendments have been made from that version. David Berridge reads at The Other Room on August 24th.

This is better read as a PDF to see the layout of the poem.

The Moth Is Moth This Money Night Moth
By David Berridge
The Knives Forks and Spoons Press
Reviewed by James Davies

David Berridge’s The Moth Is Moth This Money Night Moth is a real delight. The work seems to me to mix minimalist and expressionist concerns.  It is a work that chooses and places words which stand for themselves and also work pragmatically. Words also often seem to stand for the materiality of other words. This is achieved in misspellings, use of brackets and asterisks, thus extending the connotations within a single set of graphemes much in the same way that Geof Huth’s ntst does and some of Aram Saroyan’s seminal work from the 60s. So for example the second page reads:

gleen gnouth fnow

t (longue)   l (lake)

night (night)

The words in the poem are easily readable as other words. So that gleen =  ‘green’. gnouth = ‘mouth’. fnow = ‘snow’ and ‘for now’ as in ‘f’now’. t (longue) = a long tongue. l (lake) can be read as an example of stuttering, perhaps a reconfirmation that the word on the page, and that the image denoted, is indeed ‘lake’ – maybe a specific lake to Berridge but in leaving the lake unlabeled it is very much the reader’s lake, whether that is a named lake or the concept of ‘lake’.

The book reads as a sequence, not of fragments but as a whole; a sort of narrative. Yet the memories are not totally cohesive. The events are blurred or disguised in order to make the sensations stronger for the reader and make the experience far more democratic. It is the reader’s responsibility to choose whether they make the work confessional or not; confessional from Berridge’s point of view, or whether Moth triggers an event which the reader remembers. By this I mean that ‘lake’ in this poem seems to be a romantic symbol. By not being labeled it is so open that it can be substituted for any other romantic symbol of the reader’s making: beach, hill, bedroom, etc.  With leanings towards romance (and also Buddhism) one is transported into one’s own memories – not Berridge’s. A minimalist poem has this power – we are the subject. DB gives something to me. A gift. However Berridge’s experience is clearly in there and thus Moth has expressionist tendencies too.

Moth is a world full of sense and cross-sense sensations, of feeling the inner light of the body or that of another’s body. On page 1 it is suggested that the body is integrated with/within the lake:

 

feet lake green lake mouth lake felt lake night night lake tongue lake

 

Reading left to right 13 words are strung across the page with every other one being ‘lake’ until the pattern is broken on the tenth word with ‘night’ replacing ‘lake’. This could be seen as the lake disappearing from eyesight as the night falls. ‘night’ is also the ninth word and this also promotes the idea that night falls. But ‘lake’ then reappears as the eleventh word. Perhaps this represents the coming of morning. Or perhaps a viewer focuses on ‘night’ and then switches his gaze to ‘lake’. The lake then reappears out of sequence and is taken over by the twelfth word ‘tongue’ and then consumes ‘tongue’ in the thirteenth word ‘lake’; surely an erotic image. Also ‘lake’ coming out of sequence is a glitch; again the reader chooses the implications of this glitch. It could be read as the haziness of memory or perhaps the way ‘perfect events’ have ‘wobbles’ in them.

Page 4 in part reads:

wnow        outh

These work as heavy signs for ‘wow’, ‘snow’, ‘now’, ‘know’, ‘south’, ‘mouth’, ‘moth’ where again the reader chooses referents whilst being aware that what is actually on the page is actually a nonsense of no semantic value. As we move through Moth there are recurring motifs: ‘night’, ‘green’, ‘tongue’, ‘star’. But there are intrusions: ‘money’ and ‘fashion’ which appear often after page 4. A Money Moth by the way is a moth which is often associated with bad luck as it eats crops. This use of the word ‘money’ and its association with ‘the moth’ is a sudden negation, and imperfection, into what has been up until now idyllic landscape and mood; there is no such thing as perfection it suggests, all joy is transient.

However these intrusions never dominate in Moth. If we look at part of the middle pages:

 

t*o*n*

g*u*e

we see a visual play of snow falling on the tongue. And later on the same page:

 

snow = star

Snow is star and vice versa. The mass noun of ‘snow’ stops this image being personal as it is not fixed in a particular moment. It is about the idea of ‘snow’ and therefore we have to read star as the idea of ‘star’; perhaps their equivalence and perhaps combination. The reading of this short passage is made more difficult as it could be we are meant to assume an article is attached to ‘star’ and if it is we are not sure if ‘star’ is definite or indefinite. The same ambiguity applies to ‘snow’ as it could be ‘the snow’. This again shows that we can take the objects/words in Moth for what they are and also for what they could be.[1] 

It is true that a sadness pervades here and there in the collection, Berridge’s landscape is not completely filled with joy – ‘money’ and ‘fashion’ interrupt ‘snow’, ‘stars’ and ‘lakes’ – but more regularly than not we move beyond colour , and experience happiness. That’s good. The Moth Is Moth This Money Night Moth is a really fine book. Go experience it.


[1]  Similarities to other poems immediately occur. Yoko Ono’s poems/proposed performances in Grapefruit memorably use these two key elements of snow and star: yellow and white; the celestial. And Robert Grenier’s drawing poems are also connected. See http://www.parametermagazine.org/grenier.htm for my take.

James Davies’ Plants reviewed

Much of Davies’ work occupies a place between poetry and conceptual art. His poetry is shot through with references to the work of artists as wide ranging as Franz Kline, Vija Celmins and Thomas Fehlmann. Lines such as “next we masticated to Jeff Koons’ record collection”. Formally, his work responds in different ways to that of these artists. His chilly, wet and monotonous poem ‘The Weather’, made up of four identical tercets describing the weather, each tercet ending in the line “I wonder what it will do tomorrow” seems to be a response to the centreless, representational graphite Sea and sky drawings by Celmins.

Colin Herd reviews James Davies at 3am Magazine.

Matt Dalby reviews The Language Moment

“The Language Moment started in a more sombre and insurrectionary mood than might have been expected. And it felt like different time-periods collided.

There was the bad news that day that after 28 years the greenroom will close at the end of May. Add this to Castlefield Gallery’s loss of Arts Council funding and artists might very well feel besieged.

It also seems perversely apt that a centre born during the previous Tory administration should end during another. Albeit in coalition with Lib Dems.”

More here.

The Other Room 23 reviewed

Interesting discussions from Matt Dalby and Steve Waling

It was an ambitious programme this time. Derek Henderson read via live stream from Utah – and the other readers (Carrie Etter, Alec Finlay and Ken Edwards) were streamed out to the wider world. The venue was pretty packed and there were a number of new faces.

Derek Henderson reading from the recently released if p then q collection Thus & was the highlight of the evening for me. The collection is described as ‘a systematic erasure of Ted Berrigan’s 1964 collection The Sonnets.’

READ MORE at Santiago’s Dead Wasp

The last Other Room was a really terrific night – to think that it’s already got to three years is quite stupendous. Derek Henderson live-streamed from Utah was one of the highlights, as was seeing the poet and editor Carrie Etter reading from her Shearsman book, Divining for Starters. Ken Edwards was also good, as was Alec Finlay. It was an interesting evening that brought up some issues.

READ MORE AT BRANDO’S HAT

18s edited by Mark Cobley review

Colin Herd reviews at 3 am magazine:
From Raymond Queneau’s audacious sequence Hundred Thousand Billion Poems to Jerome Rothenberg’s radical reimagining of the Hebrew Mystic number system in Vienna Blood, Ronald Johnson’s 99-section long poem ARK, Ron Silliman and Inger Christensen’s use of the Fibonacci sequence and Jackson Mac Low’s systematic ‘diastic’ poems, numbers and counting have been an important structural element in the work of many of the Twentieth Century’s most radical and experimental poetics. With potential for chance procedures, and taking the poem’s structural locus away from the subjective perspective, numerical systems and constraints have often slicked the engines of what William Carlos Williams famously called ‘machines made of words.’

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LIKE by Colin Herd review

LIKE by Colin Herd
Knives Forks and Spoons Press, 16pp
Reviewed by James Davies

• I LIKE the way found-texts are written which aren’t quite found-texts

• I LIKE the voice

• I LIKE the alleviated status of the trash written about without that puke-ingusting feeling that you are ‘viewing everyday objects in an extraordinary way’

• I LIKE the condemnation of capitalism

• I LIKE the grotesque & squiggy imagery; esp the mushyness of George Bush Sr. Do sculptures at Madame Tussaud’s get melted down like the Wicked Witch of the West or do they go into storage at the Tate Gallery?

• I LIKE the way the art criticism is done here

• I LIKE the juxtaposition of magik and humanism: see Franz Kline poem

• I LIKE Franz Kline any day of the week

• I am sorry Denise Levertov was so mean to Colin Herd but kinda glad also

• I enLIKED to hear him growl. Thank you so much for teaching me how to growl

• There is this woman I LIKE a bit (she’s so naff), who I’ve seen advertising non-aging cream, but I had never heard of Jane Rafter before but I am GLAD that I have done now

• Just LIKE Colin Herd I enjoy watching crap TV sometimes and I LIKE to satirise it. Crap TV is one of many things that needs to be satirised and is evidence enough to agree with Adorno’s threadlike arguments

• I LIKE Colin Herd’s poem about Eva Longoria even though I don’t know who the hell she is: I’m not going to google her but will no doubt get told who she is subsequent to this review

• I LIKE to laugh; laughter is both the happiness and sadness of the people, our escapism and our warning

• I LIKE the way Colin Herd does détournement

• I LIKE to start my day with Nescafe (LIKE hell I do)

• I LIKE ‘LIKE’