The end of the love of Rimbaud and Verlaine
“If you only knew how fucking silly you look with that herring in your hand!” — Arthur Rimbaud to Paul Verlaine, from Enid Starkie’s account of the demise of their tempestuous relationship.
“If you only knew how fucking silly you look with that herring in your hand!” — Arthur Rimbaud to Paul Verlaine, from Enid Starkie’s account of the demise of their tempestuous relationship.
The Whitney’s Lyonel Feininger show is full of delights: the little comic faces, the tiny village of rough-carved wooden houses and people, the eerie and magnificent evocation of twilight. For me the standout was “Newspaper Readers (1909),” above, which shows that getting your news on the run isn’t anything new. That’s exactly how I stare at my phone on the . . .
My Riff on the rhetorical gambits of David Foster Wallace — and the Internet — appeared in the weekend’s New York Times Magazine. On Facebook, Alexander Chee described the piece this way: “I loved David Foster Wallace. I loathed editing him out of my students — and myself. Maud Newton on how David Foster Wallace made a David Foster Wallace . . .
“Maximus Clarke’s digitally manipulated anaglyph portraits take 3D imaging beyond the bounds of cinematic novelty, and explore the paradox of stereography as a simultaneously hyper-realistic and highly artificial medium.” This Friday, August 19, Devotion Gallery in Williamsburg debuts Max’s 3-D portraits of William Gibson, Lindsey Case, Michael Doyle, Chris Ianuzzi, himself, and me. He’ll be handing out old-fashioned red-and-blue glasses, . . .