Exhibition Catalogue Pamphlet from the Grimm Open Air Museum by Sarah Ann Winn is a collection of ephemera contained in a large hand-stitched envelope.
Category: Fiction
Macabre Recommendations for Moonlight Revelations
Jayme Russell: We have not posted for a while! We have worked ourselves up into such a hysteria that we have fallen onto our fainting couch. Here are a rare few moments of coherent thought, before we slink back into our black velvet cloud.
DEADlinks: www dot what to enjoy on the net 8-7-17
Links to look for.
Jayme’s Summer Roundup
JAYME RUSSELL: My biggest goal for the summer has been to distract myself. Here are some of those distractions.
Never Being the Same Dog Twice: On the video game “Everything” by David OReilly and the novel “Fifteen Dogs” by André Alexis
JACE BRITTAIN: The emotional and poetic resonance is contingent on the characters being neither perfect representations of dogs or humans.
I Felt as if I were Walking Through a Hollow Diamond
JAYME RUSSELL: The plastic covering has pulled up from the spine and also the middle of the book’s cover. It is what you see first when you look at this book, as well as the menacing dinosaur shrouded in these misty bubbles. Yet, if you hold the book at a certain angle you can also see a billowing volcano filling the giant cavern with a sky of reddish-grey smoke, giant trees towering so high that they seem to bend, and rocks of different textures and colors. These things, that you can barely see, are what the book is really about.
Dead places seeing Dead names Dead tasting stone Dead games: On The Book of the Dead by Orikuchi Shinobu (translated from the Japanese by Jeffrey Angles)
Jace Brittain: The pattern of obfuscation and analogous webs extends to an endlessly astounding figurative compulsion in The Book of the Dead, a compulsion toward sensory bleeding and complex synesthesias. Just as the lips of a dead lover might smell like a hue, one might “hear the moon sliding across the sky” at the same moment that a mountain’s trees “stir noiselessly.”
He Wanders Through the Library, Unable to Decide Which Books He Shall Take With Him
Jayme Russell: Fallen decadence, smearing of gold to tarnished black. The ruined book is curled beside me in bed. It’s pages stiff waves petrified, moving toward an inky putrescent Venice. The book is the physical manifestation of the dark decay within. “There is always something afoot in the city, whose mirrors drink the dark.”
permadeath please 