From Cory Arcangel’s Working on My Novel.
I wonder whether there will ever be enough tranquility under modern circumstances to allow our contemporary Wordsworth to recollect anything. I feel that art has something to do with the achievement of stillness in the midst of chaos. A stillness that characterizes prayer, too, and the eye of the storm. I think that art has something to do with an arrest of attention in the midst of distraction. —Saul Bellow, the Art of Fiction No. 37, 1966
Cory Arcangel’s new book, Working on My Novel—based on the Twitter feed of the same name—is a compilation of tweets from people who are putatively at work on novels. No more, no less. On Twitter, this concept feels merely clever; printed and bound as a novel would be, though, it becomes a vexed look at novels’ position in the culture, and a sad monument to distraction.
Maggie’s Dundee, 2003. Architect: Frank Gehry. Photograph © Raf Makda.
On Thursday, September 18, Scotland votes on independence. Over four centuries after the English and Scottish crowns joined forces, and over three centuries after the original Act of Union, the people of Scotland will democratically elect to remain within or abandon the ideal of a United Kingdom
. When Andrew Carnegie was born in Dunfermline, across the Firth of Forth from Edinburgh, in 1835, such rupture would have seemed incredible as the British Empire ruled approximately a fifth of the world’s population and one quarter of the Earth’s land area.
Under Attack candles, 2010. Image courtesy of Sebastian Errazuriz Studio.
On the morning of September 11, 2001, nightmare-like imagery appeared on television screens across the country. News footage of two commercial airliners flying dangerously low through the New York skyline played on an infinite loop. The twin towers of the World Trade Center hemorrhaged fire and black smoke against a clear blue sky. Office workers helplessly plummeted from windows. Clouds of ash rolled through New York’s financial district like slow-moving dust storms. Crowds of strangers wept and hugged one another in the streets. It was unbearable to watch, yet impossible to look away. Thirteen years later that graphic imagery still lingers in the nation’s collective memory, a stark reminder of what personal loss and incalculable horror looks like.
Like so many other people who looked on in disbelief that day, Chilean-born artist Sebastian Errazuriz was influenced by the events that transpired. For more than a decade, Errazuriz—whose first major solo museum exhibition, Look Again, opened last Friday at Carnegie Museum of Art—has been creating sculptures, photographs, collages, and sketches in memory of the September 11 terrorist attacks. Collected under the title Never Forget, Errazuriz treats the ongoing project as not only an exercise in memory, but as a way to reconsider the messages and imagery that surfaced both during and after the attacks.
Maggie’s West London, 2008. Architect: Rogers Stirk Harbour + Partners. Landscape Architect: Dan Pearson. Photograph © Adam Hollier.
Richard Rogers first came to international attention when he and Renzo Piano won the competition for the Centre Pompidou in Paris in 1971. That radical intervention into the urban fabric of the French capital placed escalators into a transparent tube along one side of the building and mechanical services into multicolored modular units along the street elevation, such that interior space is freed up for ultimate flexibility and democratic participation in the arts.
Many distinguished buildings later, Rogers and his partners, Graham Stirk and Ivan Harbour, realized the first Maggie’s Centre in London. Awarded the 2009 Stirling Prize, the key prize for a building designed by a UK-registered practice, the Centre offers practical and emotional support to folks undergoing cancer care at the adjacent Charing Cross Hospital. The subject of our fall 2014 exhibition at the Heinz Architectural Center, more than a dozen Maggie’s Centres have been designed over the last two decades by influential architects and landscape designers across Britain.
Marilyn Monroe during the filming of The Misfits, 1960 © Eve Arnold/Magnum Photos.
Two women—a superstar perched perfectly still during a studio photo shoot, centered against a white seamless, as the second figure walks into the frame, the edge of the backdrop bisecting her head and torso. Each is holding a prop (an attribute?) that underscores their roles. One needs no introduction, while the other is photographer Eve Arnold, who spent two months on the set of The Misfits, Marilyn’s final film and their last session together.
I love Jaime Permuth’s astute reading of the image: “My first response is to the caption which accompanies the image. If this is Marilyn during the filming of The Misfits and the copyright of the image is ascribed to Eve Arnold, then who is the third woman holding the camera? If she is indeed the photographer Eve Arnold herself, then she has set up a second camera somewhere on set and has executed, of all things, a self-portrait with Marilyn.” He continues, “Another possibility: there is more than one photographer on set observing the interaction between the two women.” Continue reading