From An Anthology II by Yukai Du.
FIVE HUNDRED
From Ghost Stories, by Sarah Maxwell.
FOUR HUNDRED AND NINETY NINE
From Hanif Abdurraqib’s They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us.
The demand is simple: no one gets to speak the name of my city without first knowing it as I have. The interior of the land is always layered. Yes, sometimes with blood, but sometimes with bodies marching, with bodies moving, with bodies flooded into the streets chanting or dancing at the roller rink.
[…..]
The great mission of any art that revolves around place is the mission of honesty. So many of us lean into romantics when we write of whatever place we crawled out of, perhaps because we feel like we owe it something, even when it has taken more from us than we’ve taken from it. The mission of honesty becomes a bit cloudy when we decide to be honest about not loving the spaces we have claimed as our own.
FOUR HUNDRED AND NINETY FOUR
From Jialung Deng‘s A Silent Room.
FOUR HUNDRED AND EIGHTY ONE
Marfa from The Brothers McLeod on Vimeo.
FOUR HUNDRED AND SEVENTY TWO
From Alexander Reben’s all prior art (see also: all the claims).
FOUR HUNDRED AND SEVENTY ONE
Annie Baillargeon, from the (unsettling) collection, Les natures mortes.
FOUR HUNDRED AND SIXTY EIGHT
By Ilya Milstein — I love his detail and his titles. In order: “A Library by the Tyrrhenian Sea,” “The Minimalist,” and “On Exactitude in Science.”
