VANITAS : a journal of poetry, writings by artists, criticism, and essays. During its decade of intervention in the public realm, VANITAS came out quasi-annually, serving as a forum for international voices with an emphasis on coming to grips with current world situations. Each issue contained writings by artists whose primary modes were non-literary and featured the work of a visual artist. [www.vanitasmagazine.net]
For the seventh and final issue of VANITAS, we examine the idea of The Self. The work featured in issue 7 tests just how far the self can be stretched, partially as an exercise in self-expression, partially in search of what used to be called experience. Self, not so much in personae as in faces, in the sense the Mods used the term — referring to someone with style, perhaps within a culture of style, but an individual expression of that culture, or perhaps someone who can seemingly invent her own style, just standing there.
This issue features new work by Bruce Andrews, Mary Jo Bang, Anselm Berrigan, Steve Dickison, Danielle Dutton, Tonya Foster, John Godfrey, Robert Hunter, Paolo Javier, Ann Lauterbach, Kimberly Lyons, Dan Machlin, Gerard Malanga, Judith Malina, Filip Marinovich, Harry Matthews, Michael McClure, Anna Moschovakis, Stephen Motika, Jennifer Moxley, Michael Palmer, Aram Saroyan, Lewis Warsh, and many more. Featuring artwork by Diana Michener, Carol Szymanski, Gerard Malanga, Rudy Burckhardt, and Vivien Bittencourt.
4 comments:
75th birthday anniversary of the Great One.
His example is always there whenever I need a kick in the ass.
Ben,
Wonderful to hear from you, after all these years.
And the gods thank you for this timely commemoration of a man whose memory deserves keeping green.
when
we were kids
we could never figure out
why the pittsburgh press and bob
prince were so mad at roberto.
we knotholers only knew
the great one
who would talk to us
for hours
before the game.
Zev,
Thank you for remembering The Great One.
Doubtless there are some too young to recall that Clemente was a true hero in many respects, not only in his skills and dignity as a player but in his humanitarian activities as well.
In December, 1972, a devastating earthquake shook Nicaragua.
Seven thousand people died, thousands more were seriously injured, a quarter of a million left homeless.
Clemente had spent much of the previous November in Nicaragua with a Puerto Rican team in an Amateur Baseball World Series. He had made many friends.
Clemente volunteered to organize an impromptu earthquake relief committee. He knocked on many doors. His group raised $150,000 and had shipped twenty-six tons of food to Managua when it was learned that the Somoza dictatorship was intercepting the deliveries before the supplies reached the victims.
On New Years Eve, 1972, Clemente hired a DC-7 and loaded it up with food and medicine. With four friends he took off from San Juan for Managua. Perhaps Clemente had insisted on taking aboard more cargo than the small plane could safely hold. It would have been like him. Stubborn to the last.
His wife Vera later recalled discussing the risks of the trip with Clemente before take-off. "When your time comes, it comes," Clemente told her.
One of the DC-7 engines exploded soon after takeoff.
The plane went down in the Caribbean.
I'll never forget the news of the days after his plane was reported missing. Clemente's friend and Pittsburgh teammate, the Panamanian Manny Sanguillen, refusing to accept the inevitable, dove time after time into the deep waters of the Caribbean, searching for the lost compañero.
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