This book is an attempt to read, to respond to, the Occupy Movement in four movements. Opening with a reading of Flann O’Brien’s evocative short story, ‘John Duffy’s Brother’, it opens the dossier of the generative powers of imagination: not just in opening possibilities in the world, but that what is brought forth is always already a world onto itself. This is followed by a reading of Hermann Melville’s ‘Bartleby the Scrivener’, with a particular focus on the utterance, « I would prefer not to » ; not just as a phrase of negative resistance, but as a potential challenge, as a seductive challenge. The third movement is an attempt to directly respond — if such a thing is even possible — to the Occupy Movement in all of its potentiality: in no way, shape, or form, does the text attempt to explain it; instead, it attends to it in all of its possibilities, unknowabilities, absurdities even — en bref, as an event. It ends with an attempt to reflect on what it means to speak of something, especially an event — through, and alongside, the slippery figure of the subject, the « I ».

je me touche

Literature & Fiction

Fernando, Jeremy

History & Criticism

Delere Press

[or, the whale]

Juli Crockett

Action & Adventure

" ... Neither Jeremy Fernando nor Julian Gough are literally concerned with the nominal subjects of their respective contributions to this book; that much seems clear, if anything can be clear in the face of their extravagant attempts to take perhaps the dominant icon of contemporary capitalism - the iPhone (and its variants) - and allow it to mutate into a prickly, resonant metaphor for everything from September 11, ISIS, Anders Behring Breivik, blind gratification, the power of the image, and being itself. Gough's story - 'The iHole' - is not simply irreverent to capitalism's toys, it also seeks to pulverize flat notions of material reality by provoking and disturbing them and, in so doing, fulfills one of the central possibilities of the creative impulse. Fernando's larger target - in 'iS6' - is meaning, or our attempts to force the meaningless into the garb of meaning - although this doesn't simply extend to a different kind of avoidance. He just wants to keep the monster in the game, lest we forget we are monsters." - Neil Murphy, from 'Introduction: When Thought Wanders Off'

An Apple a Day ...

Julian Gough

Jeremy Fernando

Neil Murphy

&laquo; ... It has taken me years to admit -- perhaps only to myself -- that I don't care about writing something important, something significant. That my only hope, wish -- dream even -- is to write something beautiful ... (139) This book attempts to open the dossier of fidelity; and, in particular, attend to the question of the relationship between fidelity and its object, to the question of: must there be an object to fidelity? For, if one is faithful to something or someone, is one responding to the what, the characteristics of the thing, the person; or the who, the person, thing, as such? Which is not to say that what and who are necessarily distinguishable, separable, to begin with. However, if we open the possibility that the who is always already beyond us -- outside of knowability, if even only slightly -- this suggests that it is the spectre, the potential unknowability, that haunts all relationality. Thus, even if there is an object to one's fidelity -- for, without which one cannot even begin to speak of fidelity, speak of relationality -- this might well be an objectless object or, at least, an object that remains veiled from us. In order to explore this relationship -- in which one cannot even be sure if there is a relationality; for, without the object, the nature, if one can call it that, of the relation is speculative -- the text takes the form of an exploratory fiction. Where it attempts to bear witness to the possibility of fidelity -- keeping in mind that fiction is both the limit to, and condition of, testimony -- whilst quite possibly only testifying to the possibility of being able to testify. Nothing more.

in fidelity

Politics & Social Sciences

Philosophy

'What Matter Who's Speaking' is a fragmentary work by Jonathan Bennett Bonilla positioned between poetry and philosophy. Central to its interrogation is the question: where do we go to speak to the dead? WMWS is a set of rooms sealed shut. A series comprised of leftovers and remnants of work from the artist's studio, 'Residue' is a corpus of materials that have gone through a previous life and which have been part of the creative process of Vince Briffa. These pieces have originally been created without any aesthetic or artistic concern, and in normal circumstances would have been discarded. 'Residue' is therefore a body of work that has been saved from such fate to be given a new life, re-aestheticised in CD jewel cases. The work sits at the junction between painting and objet trouvé, becoming an ongoing attempt at recontextualising materiality through the regularity of a very strict modular format -- whatever is found has to fit within the size and form of the jewel case. In this book, these two works speak to, converse with, each other, without ever becoming one.

What Matter Who's Speaking: Residue (Delere Press)

Bonilla, Jonathan Bennett

Briffa, Vince

Arts & Photography

"This is real, creaturely work. Hellberg's voice makes a tempest of kind caresses and grievous blows." -- AARON MCCOLLOUGH, author of Rank, Underlight & No Grave Can Hold My Body Down. "I've never been there, but after reading Hellberg I feel like I've been both mythic and drunk in Greece or Rome. That's about as heroic as American poetry gets. That's not Athens, it's Iowa City! I blacked out in a corn field and woke up naked lying next to Ovid! You should buy this book for your little brother if he is melancholic or violently ill or neither or both. It just might save his life. " -- JAKE LEVINE, author of Vilna Dybbuk and translator of I Am A Season That Does Not Exist In The World.

A Perfect Sphere On A Frictionless Plane

Hellberg, Dustin

Photography & Video

from the Back Cover Lim Lee Ching's poems resemble no other work coming from Singapore today, yet these are the poems for which Singapore has quietly yearned. In some ways, the work in this new collection is a throwback to a tradition that stretches from the early twentieth century, its revolutions of the word, to the touchingly opaque worlds of the turn of the millennium. It is haunted not only by Joyce, Loy, and Stevens, but also by Ashbery and Melnick. It suggests an albeit estranged or implicit continuation of this magisterial tradition, in the space, "the deep space between reading and seeing" perhaps, where idioms and languages meet, embrace, or fight it out. The result is revelatory of an English anchored transiently in idioms that range across diverse poetic forms, local dialects, and global drifts, and yet it is one that endures. Locked in these tensions, the work is like a dance whose steps follow the fleeting patterns of disabused expectation. Lim's poems manifest a principle known instinctively to lasting poets of any age: if it sounds right, then deform it, distort it, subvert it, at any rate do anything but leave it as it is. From a discipline of association an enduring idiom is formed, suggesting permanence in a world terrified by entropy and loss. In poems like "Bookmarks" and "Shallowbreath" Lim's work begins to stretch out into the longer forms that evidently suit his voice. The rigour demonstrated in these poems intimates an abiding poetic significance. Britta Noresten's drawings, published here alongside Lim's poems, add rhythms and textures of their own to the page and resonate with the poems in surprise. These exquisite studies in contemporary realism at once hold and embellish moments of passage and yet each time the lines and shades take flight on the page. These illustrations place a kind of magnifying glass over parts of an emerging world that is distributed equally to both drawing and writing. -- John W.P. Phillips

Pure and Faultless Elation Emerging from Hiding

Lim, Lee Ching

Graphic Design

This text attempts to respond to the question of the relationship between art and resistance, to the possibility of art as resistance -- that is, it is an attempt to meditate on the possible relationship between resisting and art. Whilst doing so, it also tries to attend to the notion that art is an encounter -- between one and something that is brought forth in the movement from craft to something other than what is created through tekhn&#275;. And, if so, it is always also potentially unknown, unknowable, until it happens, perhaps even after it happens. That, even as it might be experienced, felt -- an encounter through aisthesis -- it is quite possibly a moment beyond cognition; un pas au-delà, as it were. And if so, then perhaps all attempts to know it potentially do nothing other than to frame, to confine, its potentiality. Thus, perhaps the very thing that one has to do -- if one is to attempt to maintain the possibility of resistance in art -- is to resist what one thinks art itself is.

Resisting Art

In Blanchot a couple awaits oblivion like a date gone bad. Here there's a threeway's more resolute sense and direction of an ending. Laurence A. Rickels Author of Critique of Fantasy Practically every other image in these poems surprises me, and the various grand statements are genuinely interesting yet skeptical of themselves. There's a tenderness for the past here with a tone that's droll, throwaway--a reassuring combination. Grimaldi Donahue's vulnerability isn't ironic or self-loathing, but it wants to have fun. Taije Silverman Not "endings" but fragments, Not "fragments" but effacement Christopher Fynsk

on endings

Donahue, Allison Grimaldi

Davy, Jennifer Hope

Hölzl, Julia

Our skin -- all over us, inside us; multiple, divisible, same same but different; different in parts within, and all over, the same self; a multiplicity. And where, it is our scars -- that write themselves onto us, the keloids that hold us, claw us (khele) together -- which give us form (eidos). Without which, there is no possibility of even knowing (eidenai), catching a glimpse of, our very self. The skin upon which I write, upon which I writhe. Which writhes on me as I write. As I am writing skin.

writing skin

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