In September calmaplombprombombbalm.com released its first offering of the season: Bhanu Kapil’s “notes from the meat sack [sensorimotor sequence for ban].”
Kapil and Melissa Buzzeo recorded the piece in David Buuck’s kitchen this past spring. Kapil read from her novel Ban (Nightboat, forthcoming 2014) while Buzzeo performed the knives. The audio was presented at Vital Forms: Healing and the Arts of Crisis in Berkeley and has accompanied other performances. In Berkeley, as this track played over loudspeakers, Kapil bent/twisted/twitched/lay in the red “meat sack” pictured above, pointing to, among other readings, the recumbent position of the novel’s protagonist as well as the work of Ana Mendieta. This publication presents the audio as a complete work in itself and documents one instance of the para-writing that permeates the composition of Ban.
In a Facebook post on September 28, Kapil elaborated:
Ban is real — real enough to reach an end point and then. Be the thing you track — to the dissemination — of its last cells or bits. Flow. Ban is flow. I did not destroy Ban: other forces did that. I think of my work as reconstituting her: terminal but gorgeous flare. What does it mean to be with someone as they are dying? I didn’t think of this before but that was all I used to think about at one time. The practicality of the manuscript is that it has been accepted, but that — I have reduced it to three sentences. And am writing forward again from those. I wanted to repeat and repeat the Ban texts, remixed — at conferences, in magazines, in meat sacks — until — as per today at &NOW — I felt that the repetition had done its work. Of tapping the soil. And releasing an earth memory. And its unguents. Of striking a blow. To something. That was so inert. So never allowed to live. Ban as a figure, as a figure that might appear in a localized culture — 1970s Britain in the time of the riots — pre-riots — is already written over or gone. Perhaps it is more accurate to say that I wanted to destroy the void. I wanted to hallucinate the void.
And in another post a minute later:
I wanted to be the thing that is also. Gone.
Look for more audio, video, and other media this fall from calmaplombprombombbalm.com.
Today calmaplombprombombbalm.com and not enough data announce the release of three mp3s from three Bay Area poets.
Each of the published tracks manipulates text written for the page, utilizing recording and editing techniques to create sound poems, or speech-texts, that offer reading experiences unique to listening. The audio can be found in the below links and in the mp3 section of calmaplombprombombbalm.com.
Totality Canto 22 (Brendan Dreaper Pagan Time Remix) by Brian Ang
While writing his 55,000-word The Totality Cantos: An Investigation of Epistemological Totality, Brian Ang has worked with a handful of media artists to expand upon the text written for the page. Recently drummer and multimedia artist Brendan Dreaper recorded Ang reading his “Totality Canto 22” and developed the remix “Totality Canto 22 (Brendan Dreaper Pagan Time Remix)”. Here Ang’s voice and text are treated with a variety of layerings, amplitudes, and other sound processings. These treatments shift the varied intensities and displacements of Ang’s encyclopedic diction and ruptured, nodal syntax to the forefront of the listening experience. As remixed speech, Ang’s highly structured phrase-clusters exhibit a wide range of styles, evoking news media, lexicon, and lecture. Whereas the following tracks engage head-on with the physical space of writing and recording, here we find an investigation into the thought-space of listening.
The Reasons The Waves by Amy Berkowitz
For this iteration of “Reasons Why I’m Not Your Girlfriend”, Amy Berkowitz went to Land’s End in San Francisco and recited her poem in collaboration with the hissing, crashing, receding waves of the Pacific. Like the above audio, “The Reasons The Waves” treats her text with technical manipulation — here the simple framing of the microphone’s findings between REC and STOP. Unique to this piece are the narrative and listening possibilities offered by staging and recording the poem in this particular site. The listener travels to Lands End with the poet, gazing into the speaker’s pasts and the present of recitation. Admittedly removed from the physical site, the listener’s gaze moves with the poet, across the water to an, at this distance, imaginary Marin Headlands and the coast beyond. The waves act as a geographical locator as well as a percussive accompaniment to the repetition of Berkowitz’s list poem. In effect, site of this recording adds a kind of cinematic narrative to those narratives already present in the text.
Whereas Berkowitz’s audio collaborates with “live” space, e. spero’s recording of “An attempt to get exhausted…” constricts and expands upon the textually documented phenomena spero encountered in the space of one evening hour in Oscar Grant Plaza, Oakland. The text was written by taking the prompt of textual/perceptual/geographical exhaustion from Georges Perec’s Tentative d’épuisement d’un lieu parisien (An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris) in which the novelist attempts to document everything passing through his field of vision at Place Saint-Sulpice, Paris in three sittings. spero accompanied David Buuck for his third attempted exhaustion of Oscar Grant Plaza, producing a chapbook-length text. This recording gives voice to the text and constricts that voice by removing spaces, breaths, and breaks between the words. The rolling, nearly-asphyxiated enunciation coupled with the anaphoric repetitions of “Violence is…” and “is” produce a speech-text in which every observation acts both as utterance and rhythmic punctuation.