Questionable Things: A Commonplace Book

How Easy

2011-12-06T20:06:00.001-06:00

“How easy and natural love is if you are well! And how gruesomely difficult—what a philosophically daunting contraption of self-interest and self-delusion love appears to be—if you are not.”
—Jonathan Franzen, “Farther Away”

Marilyn Minter (i)

2011-12-06T20:02:00.006-06:00

Marilyn Minter, Heavy Metal, 2011. Enamel on three metal panels,
108 x 180 in.

Questionable Things

2011-09-13T09:10:00.001-05:00

Questionable Things is my aetheric commonplace book, a veritable dog’s breakfast of the dreams my stuff is made of.

Some of them, at least.

Little Boat

2011-09-13T09:05:00.007-05:00

Little Boat, by Nelson Boles.

Jack Kirby: Comic Creators Celebrate the King

2011-08-28T00:01:00.001-05:00

Today would have been Jack Kirby's ninety-fourth birthday. To honor the day, my brother and I asked comic book creators from the Mid-Ohio-Con family and beyond to answer the question "Why is Kirby king?" Our third annual Kirby tribute appears today at Kraalo.com.

Riding with the King

2011-08-28T00:00:00.002-05:00

Alex Ross, detail, Kirby Genesis #0.

Just Answer

2011-03-14T10:30:00.000-05:00

"And if you were to be asked: film, play, novel, or opera? Which would you choose?"
—Jean-Luc Godard, Eloge de l'amour

Wuff

2011-03-14T10:27:00.005-05:00

Gerrit Dou, A Sleeping Dog, 1650. Oil on panel, 6 1/2 x 8 1/2 in.

Barker

2010-11-27T15:59:00.001-06:00

It was once believed that the writer who wrote for himself would end up speaking to himself. It was believed the writer had to write for others, i.e., using accepted practices of listening and seeing. But only the writer who truly invents for himself will acquire the audience who hungers for his invention.
—Howard Barker

Boxmaker (ii)

2010-11-27T15:55:00.005-06:00

Joseph Cornell, Untitled (Soap Bubble Set), 1936. Box construction, 15 3/4 x 14 1/4 x 5 1/2 in. Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, Hartford, Conn.

My Heart, Brief as Photos

2010-10-21T15:03:00.006-05:00

Perhaps this capacity is linked to the fact that all young animals need to play in order to learn. Between play and gratuitous pleasure there is a face in common. Playing implies a distinction between the real and the playful. The world is doubled by play. There is the involuntary world of necessity and the voluntary world of play. In the second world pleasure no longer serves a purpose but becomes gratuitous.
—John Berger, And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos

Greyhounds at Play

2010-10-21T15:02:00.003-05:00

Dewey Beach, Delaware, October 10, 2010.
Photograph copyright © Steve Uyehara.

Questionable Things

2010-06-28T20:43:00.000-05:00

Questionable Things is my aetheric commonplace book, a veritable dog’s breakfast of the dreams my stuff is made of.

Some of them, at least.

Woof!

2010-06-28T20:42:00.003-05:00

Leon Golub, Alarmed Dog Encountering Pink, 2004. Mixed media on Bristol board, 10 x 8 inches.

Frank Frazetta, RIP

2010-05-10T13:27:00.003-05:00

Frank Frazetta, 1928–2010. A legend has passed. We'll miss you, Frank.

2010-05-10T13:25:00.000-05:00

Confess It

2010-03-06T14:28:00.002-06:00

"In the deepest hour of the night, confess to yourself that you would die if you were forbidden to write. And look deep into your heart where it spreads its roots, the answer, and ask yourself, must I write?"
—Rainer Maria Rilke

Where It Spreads Its Roots, the Answer

2010-03-06T14:27:00.004-06:00

Hugest of Living Creatures

2010-01-26T22:21:00.001-06:00

There Leviathan,
Hugest of living creatures, in the deep
Stretch’d like a promontory sleeps or swims
And seems a moving land; and at his gills
Draws in, and at his breath spouts out a sea.
—Milton, Paradise Lost

Kris Kuksi (i)

2010-01-26T22:17:00.011-06:00

Kris Kuksi, The Beast of Babylon, 2008. Mixed-media
assemblage, 44 x 48 inches.

Kris Kuksi (ii)

2010-01-26T22:15:00.003-06:00

Kris Kuski, The Recreation, 2009. Mixed-media assemblage,
31 x 24 inches.

Kris Kuksi (iii)

2010-01-26T22:14:00.001-06:00

Kris Kuksi, Antics and Mechanical Frolic, 2008. Mixed-media
assemblage, 34 x 34 inches.

I Raise a Glass

2009-12-31T23:59:00.000-06:00

If this were the last night of the world
What would I do
What would I do that was different
Unless it was champagne with you?
—Bruce Cockburn

Pink Elephant, New Year's Eve, 2009

2009-12-31T23:58:00.002-06:00

The Tiniest Frog

2009-12-04T00:02:00.003-06:00

With bland serenity
Gazing at the far hills:
A tiny frog.
—Kobayashi Issa (18th c.)

Dragon Knows Dragon

2009-12-04T00:01:00.001-06:00

Morita Shiryu, Ryu wa ryu wo shiru (Dragon Knows Dragon), 1969. Four-panel screen, aluminum flake pigment in polyvinyl acetate medium, yellow alkyd varnish, on paper, 162 x 307 cm.

Brightness Falls from the Air

2009-12-03T00:02:00.002-06:00

Strength stoops unto the grave,
Worms feed on Hector brave;
Swords may not fight with fate,
Earth still holds open her gate.
"Come, come!" the bells do cry.
I am sick, I must die.
Lord, have mercy on us!
—Thomas Nashe, A Litany in the Time of Plague

Alien Pilot

2009-12-03T00:01:00.000-06:00

H. R. Giger, dead alien pilot, c. 1978. Concept art for Alien, directed by
Ridley Scott (1979).

Elias

2009-12-02T00:02:00.000-06:00

From the crest of the next ridge, he had a view of the land to the north: the broad ribbon of river looping through the dark hills; the moon above, a bright crescent. He began to search the skies. It was just past midnight. He waited and watched until he saw it. There, he whispered, then shut his eyes and opened them, to make sure his vision wasn't playing tricks. Against the black scrim of space, a star—but not a star at all—began to fall, flaring to brightness as it drew nearer to the earth, somewhere far to the north: one of their black ships descending from orbit.

A View of the Floating World (ii)

2009-12-02T00:01:00.001-06:00

Utagawa Hiroshige, Ishiyama no shugetsu (Autumn Moon at Ishiyama), ca. 1833–35. From the series Eight Views of Omi Province. Color woodcut, 22.4 x 34.5 cm. Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco.

Invådu • Hill House (Draft, January 2007)

2009-12-01T00:02:00.007-06:00

The entrance hall was empty, the floor thick with dust. Garlands of dead leaves straggled along the baseboards. Many sets of footprints, booted or sandaled, tracked to and from the west corridor. Laila followed them into an old-style guest wing; none went farther than the first door. Kōdayū's room. She slid the door open and looked in.

A paper screen half concealed a folding camp bed, neatly made. On a tray beside the bed leaned a painted miniature of two women, wife and daughter.

—Let his spirit not be lost.

Against the far wall, Kōdayū's full-dress uniform hung like a decapitated ghost on a wooden clothesframe. She shut the door and went back up the hall.

One Hundred Ghosts

2009-12-01T00:01:00.002-06:00

Katsushika Hokusai, The Ghost of the Murdered Kohada Koheiji, ca. 1830s. Ukiyo-e color print, 9.3 x 11.2 cm. From the the series One Hundred Ghost Stories.

The Owl of Minerva

2009-11-18T00:01:00.000-06:00

"Actually, inheritance is the soundest way of acquiring a collection. For a collector's attitude toward his possessions stems from an owner's feeling of responsibility toward his property. Thus it is, in the highest sense, the attitude of an heir, and the most distinguished trait of a collection will always be its transmissibility. You should know that in saying this I fully realize that my discussion of the mental climate of collecting will confirm many of you in your conviction that this passion is behind the times, in your distrust of the collector type. Nothing is further from my mind than to shake either your conviction or your distrust. But one thing should be noted: the phenomenon of collecting loses its meaning as it loses its personal owner. Even though public collections may be less objectionable socially and more useful academically than private collections, the objects get their due only in the latter. I do know that time is running out for the type that I am discussing here and have been representing before you a bit ex officio. But, as Hegel put it, only when it is dark does the owl of Minerva begin its flight. Only in extinction is the collector comprehended."
—Walter Benjamin, in Illuminations

Sanctum Sanctorum, 1407 Graymalkin

2009-11-18T00:00:00.006-06:00

Overheard in a Bar

2009-11-09T14:15:00.003-06:00

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh cthulhu r'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."

Lil' Cthulhu

2009-11-09T14:13:00.000-06:00

The Bridge

2009-11-04T22:35:00.001-06:00

"A word is a bridge thrown between myself and another. . . . A word is territory shared by both addressor and addressee."
—V. I. Voloshinov

Among the Redwoods

2009-11-04T22:28:00.006-06:00

Muir Woods, northern California, August 2009. Photo by AEC.

Questionable Things

2009-10-11T17:54:00.001-05:00

Questionable Things is my aetheric commonplace book, a veritable dog’s breakfast of the dreams my stuff is made of.

Some of them, at least.

Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

2009-10-11T17:53:00.003-05:00

Max Ernst, Europe After the Rain II, 1940–42. Oil on canvas, 21 5/8 x 58 1/3 inches. Wadsworth Atheneum, Hartford, Connecticut.

¡Frusciante Is God!

2009-09-16T00:02:00.002-05:00

Your Morning Bounce

2009-09-16T00:01:00.001-05:00

So Few

2009-08-30T19:53:00.000-05:00

"The world is full of people and so few of them are right for us."
—Paul Park, No Traveller Returns

One Rat Short

2009-08-30T19:52:00.000-05:00

Alex Weil, One Rat Short, 2007

Long Live the King!

2009-08-28T00:02:00.000-05:00

Today would have been Jack Kirby's ninety-second birthday. To honor the day, my brother and I asked comic book creators from the Mid-Ohio-Con family and beyond to answer the question "Why is Kirby king?" Our second annual Kirby tribute appears today at midohiocon.com.

Earth A.D.

2009-08-28T00:01:00.000-05:00

The Air I Breathe

2009-08-27T12:25:00.001-05:00

"I am an armored bear; war is the sea I swim in and the air I breathe. The men of this town gave me spirits and let me drink till I was asleep, and then they took my armor away from me. If I knew where they keep it, I would tear down the town to get it back. If you want my service, the price is this: get me back my armor. Do that, and I shall serve you in your campaign, either until I am dead or until you have a victory. The price is my armor. I want it back, and then I shall never need spirits again."
—Philip Pullman, The Golden Compass

Iorek and Lyra

2009-08-27T12:24:00.000-05:00

Everyone Knows How the World Ends

2009-08-11T22:50:00.004-05:00

"Charlton Heston and a savagely coiffed vixen, wrapped in animal skins, riding horseback along a desolate seashore, confronted by the spike-crowned ruin of the Statue of Liberty half buried in the sand: everyone knows how the world ends."
—Michael Chabon

You Maniacs!

2009-08-11T22:49:00.001-05:00

The Demon of Noontide

2009-08-07T00:01:00.002-05:00

"In southern countries objects tend to coincide with their shadows at noontide, and this may provoke in us an awareness of the objective nature of reality which is inaccessible to us when things and their shadows intermingle."
—F. R. Ankersmit

Ornithopter

2009-08-07T00:01:00.000-05:00

Ron Cobb, ornithopter, 1975. Concept art for Alejandro Jodorowsky's
unrealized Dune. Courtesy roncobbdesigns.com.

Sean Murphy's Favorite Quote

2009-08-04T00:02:00.001-05:00

"In order to write good fiction, or even bad fiction, you have to be rigidly doctrinaire with yourself: every time you have creative thoughts, you have to squelch them; they are elements of counter-revolution posing as revolution, remnants of the old bourgeoisie. Making fiction is hard work, and requires discipline, loyalty, obedience, and above all teamwork."
—Paul Park

Leto's Car

2009-08-04T00:01:00.000-05:00

Chris Foss, Leto's Car, c. 1975. Concept art for Alejandro Jodorowsky's unrealized Dune. From the Chris Foss Tribute Page.

The Mild Boredom of Order

2009-07-26T00:02:00.002-05:00

"I am unpacking my library. Yes, I am. The books are not yet on the shelves, not yet touched by the mild boredom of order. I cannot march up and down their ranks to pass them in review before a friendly audience. You need not fear any of that. Instead, I must ask you to join me in the disorder of crates that have been wrenched open, the air saturated with the dust of wood, the floor covered with torn paper, to join me among piles of volumes that are seeing daylight again after two years of darkness, so that you may be ready to share with me a bit of the mood—it is certainly not an elegiac mood but, rather, one of anticipation—which these books arouse in a genuine collector. For such a man is speaking to you, and on closer scrutiny he proves to be speaking only about himself."
—Walter Benjamin, in Illuminations

In a House Full of Books

2009-07-26T00:01:00.019-05:00

Lesley Barnes, Herzog and the Monsters, 2007

The Test, the Trouble

2009-07-20T13:17:00.000-05:00

"The test of any good fiction is that you should care something for the characters; the good to succeed, the bad to fail. The trouble with most fiction is that you want them all to land in hell, together, as quickly as possible."
—Mark Twain

The Scannatura

2009-07-20T13:16:00.000-05:00

Artesia Returnéd

2009-07-16T13:19:00.003-05:00

After far, far too long a hiatus, Mark Smylie's Artesia Besieged #3 is in stores this week. Welcome back, Artesia and Mark!

Artesia (i)

2009-07-16T13:18:00.001-05:00

Mark Smylie, Artesia Besieged #3 (July 2009)

Artesia (ii)

2009-07-16T13:17:00.007-05:00

Mark Smylie, Artesia Besieged #3 (July 2009)

Artesia (iii)

2009-07-16T13:16:00.002-05:00

Mark Smylie, Artesia Besieged #3 (July 2009)

Fragment • Prosopopoeia (December 1998)

2009-07-14T20:29:00.005-05:00

I was born in the Philippines, in a whitewashed stone hospital overlooking Manila Bay. My grandmother might have told you that my seaside birth accounts for the color of my eyes; the science of genetics suggests, on the other hand, that their color is determined by a recessive gene. Which explanation is true? My grandmother had an answer for this question: Never spoil a good story for the truth. I grew up on Cape Cod, in New York, Boston, London, Hamburg. In Hampstead, at age four and a half, I wrote and illustrated my first story, "Tom the Fish." My hero, a soldier in the guard of the King Fish, wears a busby and contrives somehow to carry a saber. I have drawn his eye—Tom is always rendered in profile—with a single dot of blue felt-tip.

What Else Is Life If Not This?

2009-07-14T20:28:00.002-05:00

There All Is Order and Beauty

2009-07-09T00:05:00.000-05:00

Là, tout n'est qu'ordre et beauté,
Luxe, calme, et volupté.
—Baudelaire, "L'Invitation au voyage," in Les fleurs du mal

Edward Burtynsky (i)

2009-07-09T00:04:00.000-05:00

Edward Burtynsky, Uranium Tailings No. 7, Elliot Lake, Ontario, 1995.

Edward Burtynsky (ii)

2009-07-09T00:03:00.000-05:00

Edward Burtynsky, Shipbreaking No. 13, Chittagong, Bangladesh, 2000.

Edward Burtynsky (iii)

2009-07-09T00:02:00.000-05:00

Edward Burtynsky, Shipbreaking No. 27 with Cutter, Chittagong, Bangladesh, 2001.

The Salt Girl

2009-07-07T17:03:00.000-05:00

I wish I were close
To you as the wet skirt of
A salt girl to her body.
—Yamabe no Akahito (eighth century)

Marooned

2009-07-07T17:02:00.000-05:00

Howard Pyle, Marooned, 1909. Oil on canvas, 40 x 60 inches.

(Un)questionable Things

2009-07-01T13:06:00.001-05:00

Have a festive holiday weekend, my friends. But mustn't forget: "It's safety first in the Roller Cage of Fire!" For my part, I'm going sailing. Wind and tide willing, I'll be back sometime next week.

Sea Quill, View from the Cockpit

2009-07-01T13:05:00.000-05:00

Fragment • Prosopopoeia (December 1998)

2009-06-30T20:06:00.001-05:00

In my salad days I lived in the Green Mountains of Vermont, in a drafty clapboard farmhouse heated by a single wood-burning stove, and in those days I played guitar with several iterations of an improvisational rock band, the Farm, and worked as a greenhouse hand, apple picker, night watchman, window washer, Christmas tree cutter, canvasser. Part of me lingers still in that peaceable northern kingdom, a place that still nightly haunts my dreams, a place that, in those dreams at least, I still call home.

(Not So) Lately Led

2009-06-30T20:05:00.001-05:00

Mike Brodie (the Polaroid Kidd), Untitled #1. 35mm C-print, 8 x 12 in. From The Boys and Girls of Modern Days Railways, an exhibit at Needles & Pens Gallery, San Francisco, August 2007.

Striking a Nerve

2009-06-27T00:22:00.006-05:00

"The most demanding part of living a lifetime as an artist is the strict discipline of forcing oneself to work steadfastly along the nerve of one’s own most intimate sensitivity."
—Annie Dillard

Elinor Carucci (iii)

2009-06-27T00:21:00.004-05:00

Elinor Carucci, Amber Ring, 2000. Chromogenic print.
From the series Closer. Copyright 2000 Elinor Carucci.

Elinor Carucci (ii)

2009-06-27T00:20:00.003-05:00

Elinor Carucci (i)

2009-06-27T00:18:00.001-05:00

Elements of Style

2009-06-26T15:54:00.000-05:00

"If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second-greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first-greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they’re happy."
—Dorothy Parker

Willy Ronis

2009-06-26T15:53:00.000-05:00

Willy Ronis (b. 1910), front-of-jacket photograph for Divisadero, by
Michael Ondaatje (Alfred A. Knopf, 2007).

Musings of the Pre-Raphaelites

2009-06-25T15:01:00.000-05:00

The wombat is a joy, a triumph, a delight, a madness.
—Dante Gabriel Rossetti

O Uommibatto!

2009-06-25T14:59:00.000-05:00

"It burrowed in the ground whenever it had an opportunity, and covered itself in the earth with surprising quickness. It was quiet during the day, but constantly in motion in the night: was very sensible to cold; ate all kinds of vegetables; but was particularly fond of new hay, which it ate stalk by stalk, taking it into its mouth like a beaver, by small bits at a time. It was not wanting in intelligence, and appeared attached to those to whom it was accustomed, and who were kind to it. When it saw them, it would put up its forepaws on the knee, and when taken up would sleep in the lap. It allowed children to pull and carry it about, and when it bit them did not appear to do it in anger or with violence."
—Everard Home (1809)

Laila Ahara

2009-06-24T00:08:00.000-05:00

Out the gate and back into the street, into sunlight and noise. The noonday bell had rung, and close by in the courtyard of religious students, the girls and boys were singing a paean to the Bright Sister, the Queen of Heaven. Their sweet, high voices rose and swelled in one rapturous cry after another, until it seemed to Laila that her own heart was soaring into the upper air, lifted up on that great prayer sung by a thousand voices.

Adventures of Prince Achmed (i)

2009-06-24T00:07:00.000-05:00

Lotte Reiniger and Walther Ruttmann, still from Die Abenteuer des Prinzen Achmed (The Adventures of Prince Achmed), directed by Lotte Reiniger (1926).

Mireille

2009-06-22T00:02:00.000-05:00

In winter, snow covers the valley of the Arda. It covers the frozen lake. It covers the plain as far as the eye can see, and in the distance the mountains shine like glass. I like to think of the sleigh rides we took together in that winter I spent in Rahksh. In the sun the fields and trees and rooftops looked so fine with the snow lying on them; Dûrvan and whatever dark bargains were being struck there seemed so far away.

A View of the Floating World (i)

2009-06-22T00:01:00.004-05:00

Katsushika Hokusai, Tama River in Musashi Province, Edo, c. 1830. From the series Thirty-six Views of Fuji. Woodblock Print, 10 1/8 x 14 3/4 inches.

You Have Me Exact

2009-06-21T00:04:00.002-05:00

Based on my movie-renting habits, Netflix has informed me that my primary viewing preference is "dark dramas featuring a strong female lead."

In another time, in a far-off land, a young woman named Laila Ahara throws back her head and laughs . . .

Elektra (iii)

2009-06-21T00:03:00.000-05:00

Bill Sienkiewicz, Elektra: Assassin (1986–87)

Elektra (ii)

2009-06-21T00:02:00.000-05:00

Bill Sienkiewicz, Elektra: Assassin (1986–87)

Elektra (i)

2009-06-21T00:00:00.000-05:00

Bill Sienkiewicz, Elektra: Assassin (1986–87)

Es gibt keine Software

2009-06-19T00:01:00.003-05:00

Every book is a book of the dead.
—Friedrich Kittler

GGTCTAGTCCTAAGATCCG

2009-06-19T00:00:00.000-05:00

Copperplate aquatint etching by Dennis Ashbaugh for Agrippa (A Book of the Dead), by William Gibson, 1992. Photograph © Kevin Begos Jr. Courtesy of the Transcriptions Project, UC Santa Barbara.

Homo Occidentalus

2009-06-18T11:43:00.012-05:00

"For you [the West], this spiritual region remains voluntarily opaque. You do not want to see it. You do not want to look at it. . . . People do not come to Islam as an alternative for their social misfortunes. People come to Islam in response to a call, a call which goes very far and very deep in the human soul. I do not know by which accident of history or by which misfortune 'Homo Occidentalus,' as you say, has lost this organ, which permits the perception of things that are spiritual. . . . All that he has left are elements of economic, political, and social analysis . . . things that are earthbound in some way."
—from Roxanne L. Euben, The Enemy in the Mirror: Islamic Fundamentalism and the Limits of Modern Rationalism (1999)

Boxmaker

2009-06-18T11:38:00.008-05:00

Joseph Cornell, Medici Slot Machine, 1942. Box construction
with painted glass, 5 1/2 x 12 1/4 x 4/38 inches.

Social Ichneumons

2009-06-17T10:44:00.002-05:00

"Now for the first time a class appears which, without in any way participating in production, captures the direction of production as a whole and economically subjugates the producers; which makes itself an indispensable middleman between any two producers and exploits them both. Under the pretext that they save the producers the trouble and risk of exchange, extend the sale of their products to distant markets and are therefore the most useful class of the population, a class of parasites comes into being, 'genuine social ichneumons,' who, as a reward for the actually very insignificant services, skim all the cream off production at home and abroad, rapidly amass enormous wealth and correspondingly social influence."
—Friedrich Engels, The Origin of the Family, Private Property, and the State

Face Hugger

2009-06-17T10:43:00.000-05:00

H. R. Giger, alien face-hugger, 1978. Concept art for Alien, directed by
Ridley Scott (1979).

The Velocity of Prose

2009-06-15T00:01:00.011-05:00

A number of years ago, a writer friend of mine, Heloise S., proposed that the velocity of prose might be represented by the equation

etiology = teleology (characters^x)
conflict

where x equals the number of characters in the story.

Mme S. notes wisely that (a) euphony and (b) money remain uncontrolled variables.

Summer

2009-06-15T00:00:00.000-05:00

REH, in Memoriam

2009-06-11T00:02:00.019-05:00

All fled—all done, so lift me on the pyre;
The feast is over and the lamps expire.
—Robert E. Howard, June 11, 1936

"Know then, O Prince, . . ."

2009-06-11T00:01:00.020-05:00

Cary Nord, Conan the Barbarian #0, November 2003