The top pic just showed up in my image files. Mystery. It inspired me
to morph myself a Hopper version of the Shuteye Train. Blow it up to see.
There’s a lot of chance and free association in the multimedia multiverse. When you give equal weight to all kinds of input and don’t try to strangle it into words and linear sentences and paragraphs only, you move into another realm. Perhaps most importantly you become an outlaw in your profession as the law defines it. You learn to steal and refashion things as promiscuously as Shakespeare and Warhol.
[As an aside, that’d be a dinner meeting to remember, even more provocative than this painting by a man I knew slightly in college, Philip Core.
Warhol and Marcel Duchamp, the found-object
art guy adopted by the Dadaists.
The Core I knew was sepulchral, perpetually caped in black, and my only correlative for him was Edward Gorey. I was very young at the time, knew he was talented, but not all that… He was flirting with multimedia ideas too obviously, but more along the lines of “l’art pour l’art” than I’ve ever been.]
A digression that really isn’t obviously, although it was genuinely spur of the moment. My intention was to provide an introduction of sorts to what I mean by multimedia writing.
For a change, these links are presented in a particular order. They should be self explanatory. Mostly.
What is Multimedia Writing? [This is a link, not a header. Google is being cranky.]
Poetry Across Scales [Be sure to click even on diacriticals.]
The Black Marque [Inspired by some cool cartoons my Dad drew as a kid in his textbooks]
And circling back to the ‘Drunken Boat’ reference, a pair of extemporaneous recollections — me rapping(?) in my peculiar way — about two boats, one traditional and stately, and one drunk as a lord:
What immediately preceded this one was a terrifying 9 hour road trip through the alps to the Riviera, where I got kissed in a bistro by a 20-something incarnation of Edith Piaf, with whose music I had bonded in France. I was thus deeply in love at the age of 10 when we boarded the Leonardo.
The abyss was everything Nietzsche said it was.
My own drunken boat was the end of physical fear for me.
That about wraps things up for my déjà vu on Groundhog Day.
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