http://www.thehydramag.com/2010/02/12/the-tiger%e2%80%99s-eye-prototype-and-symptom/ Tue, 07 Sep 2010 02:45:38 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.0 http://www.thehydramag.com/2010/02/12/the-tiger%e2%80%99s-eye-prototype-and-symptom/comment-page-1/#comment-256 The Zapotec Mon, 15 Feb 2010 09:44:23 +0000 http://www.thehydramag.com/?p=2633#comment-256 "When he finished reading the short manuscript, he looked up and saw the projection in space of a fertile ground, a cosmogony that revolved in a tubular cyclone, in which propositions and their opposites circled each other and harmonized and clashed and recombined in a tight vacuum with tremendous dramatic energy. It was a self-sufficient Universe. He thought to himself, this Universe holds true, it is clear and precise, it goes beyond the matter of subject with a relativity and correspondence to the chief aim of all art. The Zapotec said to himself privately, but with tremendous sincerity: this man has Spirit: for I would have never witnessed such-and-such (a vision) had I not read this piece of aesthetic philosophy which is really a poem, a work of art that transcends the lesser form of analytic logic which typically goes for criticism nowadays. Yet the poet who wrote the article commenting upon the Zapotec’s work was also his friend; they had dined together many times, in Paris, in New York, in D.F.; and they had spoken loosely and with infinite ease about the various open-ended trivia which made up the society and news culture of the time. They drank pulque and spoke in confidence, and his wife knew the other’s. In fact, this friend, the critic, the thinker, the poet who would be laureate one blessed day, was also a countryman, a man born from the nation of men that represented an entire way of thinking, a way of eating and drinking, a way of speaking and listening, a way of buying goods at the marketplace and even a way of listening to music. They had common friends, common interests, and shared even the same weaknesses and intellectual idolatries." “When he finished reading the short manuscript, he looked up and saw the projection in space of a fertile ground, a cosmogony that revolved in a tubular cyclone, in which propositions and their opposites circled each other and harmonized and clashed and recombined in a tight vacuum with tremendous dramatic energy. It was a self-sufficient Universe. He thought to himself, this Universe holds true, it is clear and precise, it goes beyond the matter of subject with a relativity and correspondence to the chief aim of all art. The Zapotec said to himself privately, but with tremendous sincerity: this man has Spirit: for I would have never witnessed such-and-such (a vision) had I not read this piece of aesthetic philosophy which is really a poem, a work of art that transcends the lesser form of analytic logic which typically goes for criticism nowadays. Yet the poet who wrote the article commenting upon the Zapotec’s work was also his friend; they had dined together many times, in Paris, in New York, in D.F.; and they had spoken loosely and with infinite ease about the various open-ended trivia which made up the society and news culture of the time. They drank pulque and spoke in confidence, and his wife knew the other’s. In fact, this friend, the critic, the thinker, the poet who would be laureate one blessed day, was also a countryman, a man born from the nation of men that represented an entire way of thinking, a way of eating and drinking, a way of speaking and listening, a way of buying goods at the marketplace and even a way of listening to music. They had common friends, common interests, and shared even the same weaknesses and intellectual idolatries.”

]]> http://www.thehydramag.com/2010/02/12/the-tiger%e2%80%99s-eye-prototype-and-symptom/comment-page-1/#comment-254 michael krimper Fri, 12 Feb 2010 23:18:45 +0000 http://www.thehydramag.com/?p=2633#comment-254 I'm reminded of Foucault's reflections on authorship. By removing the names of the author from a written body of work, it might not only allow for the reader to have a more intimate relationship with the life force of that work but also it might permit the writer to break free from some of the tropes and typical predilections which would otherwise guide the writing. Maybe we could in fact read such works in exceptionally new and vigorous ways? I’m reminded of Foucault’s reflections on authorship. By removing the names of the author from a written body of work, it might not only allow for the reader to have a more intimate relationship with the life force of that work but also it might permit the writer to break free from some of the tropes and typical predilections which would otherwise guide the writing. Maybe we could in fact read such works in exceptionally new and vigorous ways?

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