Posts Tagged ‘writing/exhibition/publication’


In Uncategorized on October 7, 2010 at 8:00 am


The first Acronyms were created by using systems. For example taking the second letter of each of a set of words

As the project developed the letters were chosen unsystematically. For example choosing the second and fourth letters from a set of two words 

In the later stages Acronyms were created which did not have their roots in words at all

The Acronyms were then shuffled

The words which the acronyms stand for (where they do stand for words) are forgotten

All Acronyms are now essentially the same in structure but not process

In the ‘real world’ acronyms often take the place of the set of words

Acronyms always have heavy pragmatic value

The viewer can choose to give these Acronyms a meaning or take them as concrete object

None of these Acronyms are copies. However in some senses they are readymades in that many of them have already been invented by somebody else: google many of these Acronyms and you will see

These works are not conceptual

These works are conceptual

James Davies 2010


ACRONYMS(MS) by James Davies was first published in Onedit here. It was installed as a video installation at The Pigeon Wing as part of WRITING/ EXHIBITION/ PUBLICATION from Sept 3- Oct 3 2010.

A text installation of ACRONYMS(MS) was included in VerySmallKitchen’s DEPARTMENT OF MICRO-POETICS at the AC Institute, New York from Sep 9-Oct 16th 2010.

James edits If P Then Q and is co-organiser of The Other Room. PLANTS will be published by Reality Street in 2011, and The Manual Handling Process is published by Beard of Bees. He collaborates with Simon Taylor as JOY AS TIRESOME VANDALISM.



In Uncategorized on September 28, 2010 at 12:10 am


Press Free Press, A Time for Work



WRITING/ EXHIBITION/ PUBLICATION and THE FESTIVAL OF NEARLY INVISIBLE PUBLISHING concludes on October 3rd with a day of public residencies, performances, installations, and a closing meal.

From 2pm artists working and performing in the space include:

Matt Dalby, who will use voice, recordings and objects to create semi-improvised sound poetry in response to the exhibition and The Pigeon Wing space.

Karen Di Franco, whose CONCRETE RADIO: SCORE FOR ONE & TWO offers “intercedence/interference using short wave recordings with two radios and two transmitters.”

Karen Di Franco, Concrete Radio, 2010



+ from 2-5pm Rachel Lois Clapham in collaboration with Antje Hildebrandt present READERS WANTED:

READERS WANTED to share an intimate (w)reading performance for two. This is a little game, a small exercise in trust and a live cursive encounter. You can decide how long it might take. Two minutes is good though. Bring a + 1 with you if you like.

Please come. I’ll be waiting.


Nb. I am waiting for you
You set off on from your home
Nb. I am waiting for you
You arrive
Nb. I am waiting for you
You find me
Nb. I am waiting for you
You take your shoes off and come inside
Nb. I am no longer waiting
We blindfold one another
I whisper to you
We might touch
We (w)read together
Then we look at what we have made
You leave me
You return home
Nb. I am still waiting for you

Rachel Lois Clapham, Readers Wanted, Colliers Wood, 2010


Artists concluding month long projects over the weekend include Pippa Koszerek’s INOPERATIVE MINUTES, whose documentation of the exhibition in shorthand will conclude with the publication of The Pigeon Wing glossary.

Marianne Holm Hansen will spend the weekend unfolding her installation FOR THE RECORD (A WRITTEN CONVERSATION) in response to the month’s events.

Tamarin Norwood, text performed at The Pigeon Wing, Sep 3rd 2010




At 6pm there will be a NEARLY INVISIBLE MEAL, prepared by Magda Fabiancyk, followed by a programme of readings and performances. Julia Calver, Helen Kaplinsky/ Hammam Aldouri, Tamarin Norwood, and Press Free Press will conclude month long writing projects, alongside performances by Matt Dalby and James Davies.

As Tamarin writes of her own project:

This month Tamarin Norwood has been trying not to write things away. It hasn’t worked. Her writing has persistently generated words, not things.

At the close of WRITING/ EXHIBITION/ PUBLICATION Tamarin will discuss the impossibility of a written form that might leave its object unwritten, considering a spectrum of practices from observing, swallowing and drawing to self-apparent, self-effacing and obliterated writing.


In Uncategorized on September 25, 2010 at 9:34 am

LIKE IT IS: PRELUDE by Nyeema Morgan is the first e-book of the FESTIVAL OF NEARLY INVISIBLE PUBLISHING. A festival in itself, a document, a proposal, of something that has happened, will happen and won’t.

Of necessity the book form offers a coherent sequence, a momentary sense of order, but only to enable the diverse wholes that LIKE IT IS: PRELUDE proposes.

LIKE IT IS: PRELUDE is available for online consumption and PDF download  here .

LIKE IT IS:PRELUDE should also not be seen as the work itself. If there is such a work, it is to be found in the endless rearrangements that adobe and a hard copy might facilitate. A puzzle, then, but one in which the precise nature of the solution is up for grabs. 

A work, too, to encounter in unknown ways – which is difficult for a book with its name and title. 

As Nyeema writes, of previous incarnations of LIKE IT IS:PRELUDE : 

It is a digitally modified xerox of a text excerpt. The work itself, existing and having been manipulated within the computer, has no form. When exhibited, the work exists as ephemera, given form particular to the exhibition context.

In one instance LIKE IT IS: PRELUDE  was printed, framed and sat atop a night table left in the domestic space (similar to how someone might display a personal snapshot).

In another exhibition, it exists as a prelude to the work being shown in the form of the printed invitation, both mailed to the attendees and available in the space upon entrance.

For  THE FESTIVAL OF NEARLY INVISIBLE PUBLISHING this  e-book  is instruction, ingredient, proposition, record, making and deleting sense.  It is the work and not, with its materialities of types and ink and page that are not actually there. A delicate textual operation, but within modes of mass production and mass dissemination. Please disseminate.




In Uncategorized on September 23, 2010 at 7:31 pm



Indistinct objects.     He remembered the object of a gun and a loose eye. Wet leaves pasted together like sticky inner pockets soaked in blood.      As the sun rose over the trees it deposited little fragmented fossils: white, gritty, and with an abrasive surface, they grated against shale and looked like part of a pelvis or a shoulder. The sun made its excavation and pieced together some bones that might stay together in plan view. They contacted other things – loose change – with the sound of coins sliding over a shale of coins, coins – these ancient things – encased in flannel.      He was lying low in the mud with a feeling of something boozy swilling in him. The sun turned light over the coins and over his bones.      His mind grated and slipped on all the proximal matter. He made careful arrangements of the unobserved leaves with his eyes tightly closed against the red of the new sun. He ordered the nearby pebbles according to the strange subject of their familiarity.      Some small crescents filled with earth pressed somewhere out in the fields of his sensations. His head was lodged somewhere down below his face and his eyelids, so compressed, made no indented line on anything.       

The funny thing was that things became blacker at dawn and his own lucid appellative SUNBEAM slipped away from his consciousness and gave itself over to the wateriness of the real sun.  The name of the ‘real’ sun vanished. There was a treachery of the dark things and  FOREST was stilled – in fact, their dialogue, which had roamed half the night, rounding on the small scratching sounds of nocturnal things,  had lulled itself into silence. So that there was now only the exclamation of this hanging sound.









                                               is —


























The above texts were produced as part of  SUNBEAM and FOREST, a month long residency by Julia Calver at WRITING/ EXHIBITION/ PUBLICATION. Julia has described the project as follows:

SUNBEAM and FOREST exist inside an interminable argument which takes place at the level of the forest floor. They argue over who forms the ultimate frame for their ongoing dialogue. This work switches on and off through various iterations as SUNBEAM slips into periods of silence and then ‘reawakens’ in new ideas. Performances throughout the exhibition; texts in the space to take away.

NOTES: (1) was first performed at The Pigeon Wing for the opening of WRITING/ EXHIBITION/ PUBLICATION on September 3rd 2010; (2) was performed alongside an evening of films by Matthew MacKisack at The Pigeon Wing on September 17th 2010. The final part of the project will be performed at the closing event on 3rd October. 

BIO Julia Calver is a member of antepress and recently completed the MFA in Art Writing at Goldsmiths. Recent work includes a performative reading as part of Work in Progress; Art on the Underground and FormContent residencies; and Digestives, an ongoing Resonance FM art writing radio series.


In Uncategorized on September 21, 2010 at 8:42 am


seekers of lice, Invent the Present (part II), 2010


On Saturday September 25th 1.30-4.30, WRITING/ EXHIBITION/ PUBLICATION presents an afternoon of performances, discussions and installations. 

1.30pm How To Blush – performance lecture by seekers of lice:

 “The talk as an installation space: How to blush is a collaged text circling around blushing via the life of the bedbug, the colour puce, visceral reactions, earlobes, Sappho…”

2.00-3.30pm LemonMelon Publishing Seminar.

LemonMelon extends the following invitation: Please join!!! LemonMelon would like to discuss the following with you

a book as strategy
a book as a living organism
a book as a platform for research
a book as an exhibition space
a book as a place of collaboration
a book as nearly invisible publishing
a book as structure

Specifically invited contributors are asked to present their publications and to respond to the above.

Contributers include: seekers of lice, Phil Baber/ Cannon, David Berridge/ VerySmallKitchen, James Davies/ If P Then Q, Tamarin Norwoood/ Homologue, Marit Muenzberg/ LemonMelon.

Red Fox Press, C'est Mon Dada and ASSEMBLING archive at WRITING/ EXHIBITION/ PUBLICATION


3.30-4.30pm  Janine Harrington, Performing Book Experiment No.2

“Performing Book Experiment No.2 is a structure for five or more dancers. The work aims to facilitate a playful interaction between the audience-reader and the performers. The structure is only activated when an audience member enters a “channel” of the space, their movement programs the danced material in a certain way. As the activator becomes aware of their role as co-author of the work they are able to play with the structure, changing the direction of movement, its relationship to time and scale.”


The 25th will be the conclusion of Phil Baber’s The Archaeology of an Essay installation, the result of a 3 day residency at WRITING/EXHIBITION/PUBLICATION:

“Through artifacts, images, and texts, I’ll be unpacking, plotting, and presenting the ‘source-code’ of an essay-in-progress.” 

The Festival of Nearly Invisible Publishing also continues to unfold with  Greetings from DEAL – an installation by Colin Priest, Malcolm Hobbs and Joe Reeves – plus the online launch of LIKE IT IS: PRELUDE, an e-book by Nyeema Morgan, and an announcement of five Titles by Raqs Media Collective

WRITING/EXHIBITION/PUBLICATION concludes with a final weekend of performances and events  on October 2-3. See full programme of events here.


In Uncategorized on September 10, 2010 at 6:22 am


Photo: Matthew MacKisack


WRITING/ EXHIBITION/ PUBLICATION presents Initial and Reprise, an evening of films by Matthew MacKisack, 17 September, at The Pigeon Wing, 7pm.  Matthew writes: 

For Initial and Reprise three works will be presented, each with two parts, one verbal and one audio-visual. Each part explicates and exemplifies the other.

The works concern visions – ecstatic, dreamt, utopian – what has been and what is to be done with them: decoded, co-opted and ejected, what remains is negotiation, that is, initial and reprise.

The evening will also include the second installment of Julia Calver’s month long performance/ writing project. Julia describes the project as follows: 

SUNBEAM and FOREST exist inside an interminable argument which takes place at the level of the forest floor. They argue over who forms the ultimate frame for their ongoing dialogue. This work switches on and off through various iterations as SUNBEAM slips into periods of silence and then ‘reawakens’ in new ideas. Performances throughout the exhibition; texts in the space to take away.

ALSO THIS WEEK: A participatory installation by the Eindhoven based project space Onomatopee, specifically commissioned for WRITING/ EXHIBITION/ PUBLICATION. Freek Lomme described the project, and the work of Onomatopee as follows:

In response to David Berridges request to participate in his research project concerning WRITING/ EXHIBITION/ PUBLICATION, Onomatopee proposed to realize a participatory work; a tablecloth utilizing a grid of information and about some of their projects related to this quest. Books posited upon this cloth enable participants to experience and engage with the parameters involved!

Onomatopee operates in between theory and praxis, in between design and art, combining sense and sensibility. Operating this way, Onomatopee often releases progressive textual communication as part of this play. The sum of their projects parameters wishes to create a vibrant, coherent yet fragmented, overview on such specified fields of designed culture, linking up knowledge and experiences. 

Sunday 19th September, 2-4pm, APHORISM AS ART PRACTICE. An informal conversation, writing session, and sharing of material around the use and practice of aphorism. Participants include David Berridge, Julia Calver, Matthew MacKisack, and Mary Paterson. Participants welcome, but places are limited, so please reserve a place by emailing David on

COMING UP: Phil Baber will be working in WRITING/EXHIBITION/PUBLICATION on 22-24 September, exploring relations of installation, essaying and geology. He will launch the work on the 25th, and also participate in the LemonMelon Publishing Seminar. See here  for the full line up which also includes a performance lecture by seekers of lice, and contributions from James Davies/ If P Then Q and Marit Muenzberg/ LemonMelon.

WRITING/EXHIBITION/PUBLICATION will conclude on Oct 2 & 3 with two days of performances, installations, discussions and residencies. Full details to follow. And…

Some of the projects unfolding throughout the month of WRITING/ EXHIBITION/ PUBLICATION do not feature in a list of public events. Press Free Press’ A TIME FOR WORK will conclude with a performance on the final weekend, which is one part of a project that sees Ryan Ormonde and Becky Cremin working writing-shifts in the gallery every day, in response to instructions received from their collaborator-employers.

Tamarin Norwood is unfolding a new writing project collecting methodologies from other practices and disciplines, some of which is documented on her Homologue blog here:

So I’ve been trying to approach the birds via the smoother detours of other non-writing practices: human practices rather than avian ones, but physical, material, manual practices distinct from writing by their direct interaction with the physical properties of the world. Writing like bottle collecting. Writing like potholing. Writing like ornithology. Writing like repairing drains… manhandled into instructions for writing.

Pippa Koszerek continues to document the event in shorthand; Hammam Aldouri is coming to the space to find out what tasks Helen Kaplinsky has asked him to perform as part of their contractual arrangement (you can read the contract on the gallery wall); and myself and Marit Muenzberg have also been working in the space on our book project BIG LUSH NIP, a pseudonym for the FESTIVAL OF NEARLY INVISIBLE PUBLISHING.

As one of our generative phrases for the book has it: “A book that…. a book could ruin everything…”


In Uncategorized on September 9, 2010 at 7:42 pm


Márton Koppány, Ellipsis No.8



In July 2010 I invited the Budapest based poet Márton Koppány to contribute to WRITING/EXHIBITION/PUBLICATION, a month long exhibition and residency project at The Pigeon Wing gallery in South London (3 Sep-3 Oct 2010).

I first encountered Márton’s work through his 2003 collection Investigations & Other Sequences and the online version of the Institute of Broken and Reduced Languages. Thinking about how writing moves (or not) between the different locations of the exhibition title, I returned often to Investigations and Márton’s more recent work, much of it available online.

The following is an edited version of an exchange that took place by email between 22nd July 22nd and 18th August 2010. 


DAVID:  Hi Márton. In thinking through your contribution to the exhibition, perhaps we could also have a dialogue by email. Looking at your work, I’ve been thinking about connections between poetry, conceptual art, and the absurd.

MÁRTON: In some sense you’ve summarized my own interests/inclinations as well!   

DAVID: Perhaps we could focus on that phrase.  

MÁRTON: We could start from any point, and than go where the whims of our self-reflexivity lead us. My short comment on your phrase didn’t mean anything more special than a nod. (By the way, how will we note our metacommunicational reactions?) (How will we replace poetry with essay?) 

Generally speaking I’m very careful with generalisations and labelings also because I’ve never been good at them. I prefer comments that remain close to a text or situation or a mental condition – and “visual” poetry is a good example of it.  

You write: “Making connections between traditions of poetry, conceptual work, and traditions of the absurd.” Yes, but they’ve never been separated in a fine work like that of, let’s say, Finlay’s. He had a basic feeling or recognition, which we can analyze now, but I don’t imagine that he ever wanted to add, say, a hint of conceptual flavor to his poems. 

I mention Finlay here because you respond to his work in your Otoliths piece. Finlay says: “Just so, ‘concrete’ began for me with the extraordinary (since wholly unexpected) sense that the syntax I had been using, the movement of language in me, at a physical level, was no longer there…”  And of course nobody wants to sound “absurd” (except for those, perhaps, who participated in a literary movement a few decades ago). I dare to say this because Kafka is my favorite writer. 

DAVID: The phrase that came to mind today was A PRIMER IN CONNECTIONS OF POETRY, CONCEPTUALISM AND  THE ABSURD. By which I mean we could gather some examples, incidents, case studies of each, seeing how each word functions for you, and for me in response. Tentative, working definitions of each word… final text maybe a mix of essay/ interview/ anthology… 

MÁRTON: I don’t want to hide behind my limitations with English and explain away my other limitations through it, but my English is really an obstacle (as you can see). I ask for your (and the potential reader’s) patience. For me it is almost impossible to talk of these kind of things, especially in English – but also in Hungarian. Yes, we should refer to concrete works (of ours and others) as we go ahead, and put them in the focus of our discussion!

How does the word “absurd” function for us? Is it an intrusion and a threat or rather a kind of relief? It was both for Kafka, I guess.

DAVID:  Send me twelve images. Think of it as a selection of the  work you would like to make as an intervention/ contribution to this project.”

MÁRTON: Good. (I feel as if I’d always been writing the same poem.) I’d like to do something similar with your work. Could you please send me something over?


MÁRTON: I should specify/try to tell again a lot of matters I mentioned yesterday but the core of the thing is that I would like us to begin with the concrete works (with one concrete work that you select from the dozen pieces I’ll be going to send you?), ask you first to comment on it or ask me about it, and then go on with the dialogue.

And it should be YOU who choose a label/frame for my collection in the show. It should reflect YOUR experience with them. I have nothing against “conceptualism” (on the contrary), and “absurd” is as good as “mysterious”. But why don’t we wait a bit with the frame and examine first the concrete works?

It is always difficult to decide where to start. Please let me know what you think. 

DAVID: Yes, lets start from the specifics. 

MÁRTON: Yes, absolutely. I’m looking VERY much forward to our dialogue – which has already started. (We can find a lot of examples of first step last step “dilemmas” in Kafka, Beckett, George Brecht, Bern Porter, and of course in any dialectic logical system, old or new, and we can perhaps deal with them as we go ahead…) Unfortunately I couldn’t open your zip file for some reason. Could you please send your work again as a Word or PDF document? I’m VERY curious about it! 

The twelve images Márton sends are: From “Endgames”, Otoliths, 2008:  Csend (Silence); The Secret; Ellipsis No. 8; Forecast; Waves No. 2. From “Modulations”, Otoliths, 2010: fish 1-3; or; Translation; Vacation; Asemic Table No. 2; Still. I email Marton the manuscript of Kafka Thinking Stations: A Chora(l) Song Cycle.  


MÁRTON: Your Chora is great! Here I send a quotation (you may know it) for your italicized Kafka-crows: while translating Fluxus stuff for an art institute in Budapest, I found a footnote by Dieter Roth which immediately sounded familiar. It was nicely hidden in Spoerri’s Annotated Topography of Chance and was related to a third person: “At this point Josef Albers would say: I have nothing to do with variations: I make variations!” (And a small coincidence: I have a piece, titled “Italics”, in the new issue of Otoliths.) “Please clarify ‘impossibility’” (Chora) Do you know Bern Porter’s “impossible”? (It is the phonetic transcription of the word.) 

Márton Koppány, Waves No.2



DAVID:  I started making these comments after looking at all the images you sent me. Then I picked one, [Waves No.2] as they seemed to fit most specifically around it. Then my thoughts became specifically about this image. I tried to follow a chain of thoughts but – in a way that maybe relates to the images – I think such chains endlessly stopped. I had to re-write, start again, express a similar concern in a different way or through a consideration of some other aspect of the image…. 

MÁRTON: I’m VERY grateful for your comments, I found them intriguing! But I was in trouble with my responses.

DAVID: But the point of starting with an image was to be more concrete! Sorry! Please pick whatever interests you from the rather lengthy notes that follow. 

MÁRTON: I tried several things in the last couple of days but nothing worked well enough. Whenever I start exposing something to generalizations it becomes very soon unmanageable. (Of course it is my English but not only that.)  I have been retreating from textuality for a long time. Even in my Hungarian textual period (several decades ago) my inclinations had directed me toward the (actual, ever-changing) limits of verbal communication.

The last half of the sentence is quoted from an interview included in my book of 1993, Investigations. I will use my earlier notes written for different occasions when they are relevant, and when I can’t put it any better. 

DAVID: I thought about how, in your poems – should I say images? poems? –  there are objects at the point of becoming letters. And letters at the point of becoming an object, and what happens when we have this balance.

MÁRTON: I started writing something that turned out (?) to be “visual poetry” thirty years ago because by the late seventies I’d understood that if I didn’t want to give up the faint hope of communicating, I should “get rid” of my mother tongue.  So the main source of my way is a deficiency, which makes things simple in some sense. 

I don’t respect/need/enjoy words more OR less than the empty spaces between them, or the sheet of paper they are written on, the rhythm of the turning of the pages, unknown and forgotten symbols, fragments, natural formations like clouds and “objects” found on the internet – each of them and any combination of them may be an invitation. When I feel easy (and ready to make something) I experience their complete equivalence.

DAVID: One thing that happens is we smile. Sometimes we smile, and sometimes we laugh out loud. Different kinds of humour, although whether this is something we can control, in the creation of such works, I don’t know. I sometimes think it is your humour , as maker of this, that the poem evidences, – and  when we smile or laugh we recognise how much we participate in your humour.

MÁRTON: Hope you’re right. Concerning humor, what I think in this quite humorless period of my life (I wrote in 2001)  is that I have two basic states of mind. One is the suffering/confused, when I can’t write at all. The other one – which is more exceptional and keeps sometimes only for a few moments – is the happily confused one, when I can somehow cling to the air and enjoy the panorama. 

But if I write (or more exactly: take) down what I see (which doesn’t happen too frequently), the composition generally gets humorous because suffering and confusion are still present and I see myself in the air. The only relief is that I can accept all those contradictions, at least for the moment, and humour is perhaps just accepting contradictions.

DAVID: Another thing that happens, as objects become letters and letters become objects,  is that we make a picture.  A boat on the sea. Sort of.

We also make a setting. A photo of sea. An artificial sky. Now the balance is between things we think of as landscape and nature, and things that seem a flat surface of colour, something made on the computer. 

The  image is called WAVES. Perhaps this highlights that the zone of importance is more than letters and punctuation, which could otherwise be the figure to the seas ground. 

Márton Koppány, Csend (Silence)




Is this more all over focus where the desire to work in colour came from, after the black and white work of INVESTIGATIONS? Do you still work in black and white? I suspect not. It feels to me, without knowing if this is so, that some definite break happened.

MÁRTON: I’m still working in black and white as well, but you’re basically right, most of my pieces since 2005 have been in colour. When I understood how isolated I was in (or rather out of) the state-controlled culture, I felt I should “leave” my mother tongue behind and reach out. 

That was at the end of the 70’s. I got involved in mail art, started making collages and writing extremely minimalistic poems on small cards. I tried to metacommunicate with the potentials of the sheet of paper itself (it can be torn etc.) and with sequentiality. Color visual poems date back only to 2005, when, all of a sudden, I started seeing color punctuation mark landscapes during a walk. 

Generally I have a basic image first which just emerges. But most of my visual poems significantly (or completely) change in the process of their elaboration, thanks to the call coming from the unexpected “blemishes” of their digital carriers. It is a dialogue, I hope.

Could you please explain to me, what kind of break you meant? When you’re doing something day after day (in my case rather month after month because I’m very slow and produce far fewer items than most visual poets do), you don’t recognize the shift which might be evident for an attentive observer. 

I do feel that my “images” are even more silent than my similarly minimalistic conceptual sequences were. And they might seem in some cases a bit less “poor”. But my “problems” are basically the same. I was thirty years younger when I wrote the bulk of my black and white sequences. Well, that’s a real difference.

DAVID: If we try to row away in the boat, we discover that it is made of punctuation! (Of course, we always knew this really) If we find a way of making this punctuation boat work, we discover this bit of sea isn’t connected to anything else, although it sort of promised it was, or we kidded ourselves that this was the case.

MÁRTON: I can only add that since this is a visual poem and has two dimensions (I framed it to emphasize the fact) (although recently I’ve stopped using frames), it has a vertical reading as well: a white (erased?) (already “missing”?) comma-man is sailing, quietly, in a small black boat consisting of an opening bracket, and under a series of opaque closing brackets consisting of some fleecy clouds in motion.

DAVID: I’ve started writing my notes as “We…” Perhaps “we” navigate into such an images as this on the basis of what we share (punctuation, colour, sea), not on the basis of our individual personalities.

MÁRTON: Yes, you’re absolutely right as far as my intentions are concerned. I don’t want to express anything more than a balance and the lack of it, the mystery “and” absurdity (they’re not “and”, not separated) of… (You know this “of”: you made it talk in your Chora.) What remains if I abstract away from the anecdotical and psychological details of my personal history? Certainty of Death and Certainty of Nothing at All are playing ping-pong in the final of an elimination tournament.

Márton Koppány, Asemic Table No.2



DAVID: … the poem attains life as its own system, maybe. But what kind of system is it?”

MÁRTON: I have no idea. But – how to put it? – it is certainly not about language. (My intuition, based on “Chora” is that your main interest is also different. They spring directly from a strong sensation (recognition) (or a sensational feeling of no recognition). They “talk back” in the process of realization and (in good case) surprise me. At that point I’m done. The less is the better.

DAVID: … Simultaneity and development. Between surface and depth, 2D and 3D.

MÁRTON: Yes, the surface. We need it, don’t we? I don’t want to imitate 3D (to compete with computer games etc.), but some of my pieces suggest three dimensionality – or use its concept. Nothing can be repeated: the original version of Waves was done in an early period of my digital activity when I had no idea what pixels mean. (I’m still low-tech.) So that version doesn’t exist in higher resolution. In  2008 I reshaped it, and the resolution of the new picture is much higher. It is a bit different / it is the same. Generally speaking my works are rather conceptual but not completely.

DAVID: I did a theatre workshop once where they said to move slowly means having an attention that is very fast and moving all over the body. To move fast requires that attention be very still and slow. 

MÁRTON: Yes, that’s absolutely true!

DAVID: In trying to be concrete I’ve emphasised the positive, playful side of these images, but they could also be read as about impossibility: the disaster of making a boat from letters. What determines whether we read such images for their positive or negative meanings?

MÁRTON: They’re the two sides of the same coin in motion. “Our” total collapse is always at arm reach. I’ve been interested in Judaism (first in Hasidism, later in Talmudic J) and in Buddhism (first only in Zen, later also in Madhyamika, San lun and Hua-yen) and a few other religious and sceptical traditions for more than thirty years, but I can’t say anything wiser. (Perhaps because I’ve remained an ignorant.) 

It really depends on the reader. It will sound idiotic but I vote for harmony. To “work” on these poems, I mean to catch the basic image in the air,  has always been a positive experience for me. I can never create anything when I’m depressed or angry. I need momentary easiness to be able to present that coin – on whatever side of it is more emphasis at the moment. What does it mean?

DAVID: Perhaps the clue is in the title. WAVES. As in “someone waving.” Poem as greeting.

MÁRTON: Yes. Thanks!!!

DAVID: I am thinking about a scene near the end of Tarkovsky’s Solaris. Have you seen it?  If so, maybe you know the scene I am thinking of? 

MÁRTON: I’m a bit ashamed but I left it out. And on top of it all I worked as a film critic for many years in the late eighties and early nineties! I’ve hardly gone to the movies (or watched video) since then.

I skipped a few parts of your letter because I couldn’t relate to them for the moment. 

MÁRTON: Erratum: “I was thirty years younger when I wrote the bulk of my black and white sequences. Well, that’s a real difference.”

I was twenty five years younger…

DAVID: I am at my parents house tonight. My mum shows me a small notebook belonging to  her grandfather. She says all it contains is some blank pages on which are written his union membership number and names of some horses he wished to bet on. This is the only writing or object that remains of her grandfather.

In response to Márton’s email I sent a long response in which I unpacked some ideas – about the education and practice of the writer, how a writing practice sustains itself and develops, and how Márton’s work positioned itself regarding different locations of writing, exhibition, and publication. It felt close to the concerns of Márton’s poetry although, in its 1800 words, it did not once mention a poem…

Márton Koppány, Forecast




MÁRTON: I could relate to several comments of yours, because our dialogue is potentially open in many directions. But we are getting farther and farther from the concrete pieces. (Only one of them has been touched yet.) I must repeat that I’m totally sceptical about general talk over art. My reactions would be meaningless without the momentum (if any) of the concrete poems. If that momentum doesn’t exist, my ideas have no importance. I’d like to stay as close to the poems as possible. 

We could turn back to them. But since both of us have other obligations we could also claim that our text is done – at least for the time being. 

DAVID: I’m sorry if my letter seemed inappropriate. I was uncertain how to engage with the materiality of these images, when it is precisely that materiality these images put into play in different ways (what is natural/ digital, representational/abstract, how parts relate to wholes…) 

MÁRTON: No, no, nothing has been “inappropriate” at all! I’m simply not good at general talk – I lose the thread quickly.  

DAVID:I have begun editing our emails, but I would also like to try and stay with this little “knot” or “crisis” in our dialogue. 

MÁRTON: Others might be different, and that’s fine. I’m happy to talk about any topic (also about poetry and exhibitions) as far as we remain in (or at least close to) the context of the concrete work(s).

DAVID: I feel trapped in a somewhat paradoxical activity: trying to articulate in language that which is at the “limits of expression” and moving beyond the verbal. But not wanting to have a sense of “reclaiming” it, or simplifying it in any way, nor to set up a “mystery” of the image…. 

MÁRTON: You are right, it is a paradoxical activity, but even walking is a paradoxical activity according to Zeno. Some Chinese sources call this use of language “liminological speech”. But the limit is always “somewhere else”. What I mean is that there’s no “beyond” (at least not in my vocabulary, but it can be fine and meaningful in other cases). 

Seeing is still reading, reading is seeing. Words can be mute, while clouds, table legs and water waves, subatomic letter particles can easily start speaking because they’re words AGAIN, signs among signs. I’ve been inclined to use less and less verbal elements, but it is a mental process, which I’ve experienced and also witnessed. 

There’s no methodology involved. Perhaps I’m simply getting older. And as I wrote you in my previous message, I have NOTHING against verbality: if there’s anything I really admire it is first class, pure textual poetry!!! Unfortunately I can’t afford it because I’ve lost my mother tongue and the capacity of articulate speech. No “mystery”. I’ve remained (or would like to be) a writer.

DAVID: So I shall write down what has been persistent for me each time I looked at your twelve images. There is, for example, the element of constructions. Aside from your own sense of form and structure, there are the specific machines of Ellipsis No.8 ,the boat we talked about before, and the fish in, aptly, Fish 1-3:

These are are given an order and movement that is also like that of the metronome in Ellipsis – it has a pace, a measure, a rhythm  – things with a tone, also an instruction for another activity. 

MÁRTON: My work is rather conceptual but my concepts are completely intuitive (there’s no theory behind them), and I’d like to show both. That might have a (dysfunctional) machine-like precision effect in some cases.  

DAVID: Or the brackets of THE SECRET – a spectrum, offering a set of variations, repetitions of a kind, but also that other structure of a mirror in the middle, that offers a reversal, an echo…

MÁRTON: The brackets of the Secret are asymmetrical. (Most people don’t realize it first.) I tried to represent how we construct a secret. (That’s a real secret as Kafka would say.)

Márton Koppány, The Secret




DAVID: It makes me think about seeing and not seeing, refusing perception in some way, not allowing an easy apprehension of the form as object. Sometimes your work isn’t this at all ( the punctuation boat, where the punctuation is evident). But other times it is. I found it hard to decode the reflection in STILL. It evokes figure-ground, op art, perceptual psychology tests…  

Márton Koppány, Still




MÁRTON: “Still” is the reflection (in the water) of something which can’t be seen anymore. “Still” is its only presence. And it is “still” present!!!

DAVID: A shifting sense of “nature.” What do categories like nature and artifice mean when brought into the image? It is something to be played with, and also a way of organising the images: Fish in water and fish in the sky; fish breathing and fish having thought balloons/ clouds/ trees, like we associate with cartoons. 

MÁRTON: Yes, some motives – like the fish or the clouds – have been coming back in different contexts. I like to modify (or completely change) their role: against my own expectations with naming, categorizing etc.

DAVID: You talk about “silence” in colour images. I think the silence is to do with these gaps, and your manipulation between them. Fish…sea…sky…thought balloon… cloud…tree… a certain spectrum (of the comedy/conceptual/absurd) maybe?

MÁRTON: I can’t add anything else!

Márton Koppány, Translation




DAVID: Does it feel reductive to you to talk of a grammar? A set of elements that are identified and explored in repeated ways? In your work it seems more intuitive than this. A repeated image (like the comma emergent from a block of colour) has to be found each time?

MÁRTON: You’re absolutely right, my grammar is intuitive and fluid. I don’t want to set up a rigid sign system. (And I don’t believe in an universal grammar or anything like that. But I do believe that cultural barriers can be crossed in any direction in space and time!)

DAVID: And the titles are a curious element in a practice trying, as you say, to “retreat” from the literary. Sometimes – Forecast- they seem to offer a clarification. Other times, Ellipsis or The Secret – it is more transformative to read the title after looking at the image. The titles are a bit like the purple frame perhaps? Have you ever made an untitled work? 

MÁRTON: Yes, the function of the titles is different in each case. Sometimes they’re very neutral, like, say, “Study No. 3” or “Sans Titre No. 1”. I need them only to slow down a little bit. In other cases they’re important (even core) elements of the composition. There’s no rule.

DAVID: I imagine a reversal: the image as the title, and the title as a miniature poem underneath – like Ian Hamilton Finlay’s one word poem issue of Poor Old Tired Horse where the title could be any length!

MÁRTON: Absolutely! I have a sequence in Investigations, titled “Titles”, where the title becomes the picture and vice versa.

Márton Koppány, The Mist



DAVID: It feels appropriate that The Mist got separated off in an email by itself! It has a feeling of ending, opposites, and reversals. The object of the suitcase also highlights something about (human) presence and absence that recurs in these images, a referencing and avoidance of the body; journey/ progress/ accumulation alongside nothingness/emptiness. 

MÁRTON: I like a lot your interpretation!

DAVID: It articulates the paradoxes this exchange often returns to. This “landscape” allows a clear articulation of ideas, of materials in themselves – THE. But there’s also a sense that the individual elements in the image have agency, like that “E”, almost thinking of them as human “characters”…

MÁRTON: Yes, I feel the same. I’m VERY happy that you’ve noticed it! 

DAVID: On the subject of breaks. The colour images removes that discourse of the “white space” and how that is constructed in poetry from Mallarmé through to concrete poetry and so on. There is no white space, although maybe The Mist is a way of trying to articulate how it functions, its claims and its illusions – 

MÁRTON: I still use white space (it has central importance in “Still”, for instance), but it has become one “color” among the others. White, whiter, color.   

My frames, as many things in life, came from a coincidence. In the late 70’s when I started tinkering with my first non-just-textual black and white sequences, I cut the xeroxed A/4 pages into four because I wanted to put my work into normal size envelopes and send it out as mail art. But it was difficult to handle the borders without frames, so I glued the originals on black cardboards, and it was convenient to keep the frames as well. 

Very soon I became conscious of their presence. They started to represent limitations – and the opportunity of changing them into a playfield. I noticed another white layer “behind” the black one – and also that there is no “background” anywhere at all.


MÁRTON: David, now that we have more material on the concrete works, I can turn back to your more general comments, and try to make short reflexions.

DAVID: How would you characterise your education? Did you have an apprenticeship? Is writing solitary?

MÁRTON: I’m an economist by profession. I’ve never used my degree. I worked as a film critic for several years. I’ve been translating and editing for a long while.

DAVID: I’ve been reading the work collected as part of the Institute of Broken and Reduced Languages. Could you talk about this idea of the individual working as organisation? I’ve been organising a project called DEPARTMENT OF MICRO- POETICS, so I’ve been thinking through the implications of carrying out poetic- artistic activities under such a banner. 

MÁRTON: The Institute grew out of exchanging messages with a few friends, especially with Gábor Farnbauer, Clark Lunberry and Peter O’Leary (in Slovakia and in the US) in the second half of the nineties, after coming back from Milwaukee where I’d spent three academic years with my wife who was an MA, and later a Phd student and teaching assistant. (I was officially a “family member”, and had different odd jobs.) 

It came from the wish of finding an umbrella different from labels like “concrete” or “conceptual”. 

DAVID: For myself, I’m not copying an institution, or satirising it, so much as trying to create something which is a container and prompt for my work and can also be an invitation to others. 

MÁRTON: During the nineties I had the opportunity to bring out a series of small books in collaboration with a small press in Slovakia. (And a couple of magazine special issues with the same publisher.) At the beginning of new millennium the Institute went online. Karl Young, the poet and essayist gave it a new home at his Light and Dust Anthology, and agreed to co-edit it. Unfortunately it hasn’t been updated for a long time. 

And one more “organization”: with Nico Vassilakis I coauthored a book titled From The Annual Records of The Cloud Appreciation Society. We needed somehow the bureaucratic base – to leviate. A bit later we (or rather our publisher) had some surrealistic debate with the “real” organization wearing the same name.

DAVID: I’m wondering about poetry in exhibitions, poetry as art, poetry exhibited, and writing as an art practice as opposed to a poetic practice.  Do you have any sense of this in your own work? 

MÁRTON: I’ve participated in several shows (the first one was a group show for Eastern European book artists at Franklin Furnace in 1982) and I would be happy to exhibit more. I like the gallery context as much as the book context. Both have their advantages. I can’t fathom the difference between a “text artist” and a “visual poet” in that respect – why on earth one of them inhabits the gallery place, meanwhile the other one is living in books. It is a social game most of all.

Márton Koppány, or




I don’t see any aesthetic difference. In good case we are motivated by the work to see the pages of the book and read the images on the wall. It shouldn’t be mythologized. And turning (clicking) the page is not so different from moving between the elements of an installation. Both connects and separates.

Kitasono Katue’s Magic (in oceans beyond monotonous space; edited by Karl Young and John Solt) is printed on two pages (and should be read in columns, and from right to left). First we have the block of “ocean of ocean of ocean…”, then a single column follows: “a graceful novel and a graceful novel for a novel and a distance between me and all of you”. 

Next comes  the block of “light on water light on water light on water…”. But the flow of the columns of that block stops at the page break. Then it continues on the opposite page, ending in the middle of it. So where can that “graceful novel” and that “distance” be found exactly?

DAVID: WRITING/EXHIBITION/PUBLICATION asks if writing moves fluidly between these different spaces, and/or if there are blocks, stoppages, distinctions between these different locations. 

MÁRTON: I think it is totally fluid.

DAVID: Someone I met at a discussion on education sent me the following quotation which I have been thinking about a lot. It is by an anthropologist called David Graeber: 

“Bourdieu has long drawn attention to the fact that – always a matter of frustration to anthropologists – a truly artful social actor is almost guaranteed not to be able to offer a clear explanation of the principles underlying her own artistry. 

According to the Godelian/Piagetian perspective, it is easy to see why this should be. The logical level on which one is operating is always at least one level higher than that which one can explain or understand – what the Russian psychologist Vygotsky referred to as the ‘proximal level of development.

MÁRTON: I like this! With the extension that of course it is true about philosophers as well. And that is why we (still) can’t do without metaphors.

Márton Koppány, Vacation




DAVID: I’m interested how much or how little could be satisfying in making an image.

MÁRTON: It is very satisfying! In a sense I’m really grateful for my “deficiency”. 

DAVID: I am thinking again about your phrase “retreating from textuality.” I am interested in what is retreated from, and where one retreats to. I am interested if the micro- engagement of your work with language, signs, punctuation, is usefully a working out of relations on a larger level, of families, then neighbourhoods, then economies, nations maybe. Or whether its a separate realm, with different realities of play and gift and…

MÁRTON: No, it is just the same realm. Or we have been “beyond” from the very beginning.

DAVID: Does writing feel practical to you? I often have a sense of a “utility” of writing, a need for it to be “useful.” But I’m not sure quite what uses I have in mind. 

MÁRTON: It is “the support of contemplation”. Very useful! (Nothing is more useful for me.) It can totally change our initial ideas, or give them an unexpected twist. 

DAVID: Our starting concept for this exchange: A PRIMER ON POETRY, THE CONCEPTUAL, AND THE ABSURD. How do you think we’re doing? 

MÁRTON: Please choose a title for our text: it should be the last phase of your editorial work, I guess, and should reflect your experience with it and with the images… I’m curious.

I’ve already found a couple of things that should be corrected in my last two responses. (For instance: I’m not an economist “by profession”, rather “I studied economics but never used my degree”) etc. etc. You can also find a few details confusing (thanks to my English) – and I’ll try to recompose or clarify those details. 

It would be good to keep the dialogue form, I guess, because each response emerged from a concrete question, and they belong together.

DAVID: I’ll edit this while you are on holiday and send it by Friday.  



1. Csend (Silence) is dedicated to Geof Huth

2. Asemic Table No. 2 is a comment on Tony Trehy’s Reykjavik.

3. The Investigations interview was conducted by Jesse Glass.


As well as a reference list of books mentioned in this exchange, the following is also a list of texts exchanged by the authors. 

David Berridge, Kafka Thinking Stations: A Chora(l) Song Cycle (The Arthur Shilling Press, 2010).

David Berridge, The Moth is Moth this Money Night Moth (The Knives, Forks and Spoons Press, 2010).

David Berridge, Nutshell Axioms: An Experiment in Reading as Essaying, in Otoliths, Winter 2009.

Kitasono Katue, oceans beyond monotonous space: selected poems of Kitasono Katue, ed. John Solt and Karl Young (highmoonoon books, 2007).

Márton Koppány, Immortality and Freedom (Coracle Press, 1991).

Márton Koppány, To Be Or    To Be (The Runaway Spoon Press, 1996).

Márton Koppány, Investigations & Other Sequences (Ahadada, 2003).

Márton Koppány, Endgames (Otoliths, 2008).

Márton Koppány & Nico Vassilakis eds. From the Annual Reports of the Cloud Appreciation Society (Otoliths, 2008).

Márton Koppány, Modulations (Otoliths, 2010).