Kinemapoetics

This blog will be reborn in 2018.

From the Washington Independent Review and the lovely Grace Cavalieri:

The Nanopedia Quick-Reference Pocket Lexicon of Contemporary American Culture by Charles Jensen is a chapbook. By definition a chapbook is “a small pamphlet containing
tales, ballads, or tracts, sold by peddlers.” (I like that!) Or, ―A small paperback booklet, typically containing poems or fiction.‖ Apparently these are sold by publishers who are not peddlers. The chapbook has a time-honored tradition in American Letters, and we can cite first editions from such influential poets as Eliot, Stevens, Pound—in fact, most estimable poets at one time or another issue a chapbook. However, because of its length, the publication is wrongly considered less than a book. It is a type of book and I like to think back to the 18th century when even more diminutive books could be slipped into the pocket of a frock coat. Charles Jensen’s poems are political statements in prose verse. Like a new Mazerati or Lady Gaga’s shoes, the poems are always surprising, never disappointing. His poetry seems to say: If some of us are here to wake you up, then what are the rest of you here for? Jensen’s line lengths trace exactly what the poet feels about a subject, but it happens to be in a unit of measure. Jensen’s poems are acts of civil disobedience. Each is a tiny discourse commenting on society’s foibles and artifices. The musicality and poetic perspective lets the poet speak without having to write an Op Ed piece. Poets wish to be of use. And Jensen certainly is, 25 times in this small book.

…is now live at Lambda Literary:

2011 saw the publication of several new biographies about Andy Warhol, but perhaps none with such an unusual voice as Megan Volpert’s Sonics in Warholia, from Sibling Rivalry Press. She wrote the book as a direct address to Warhol’s ghost, and took a tone with him that most people never dared to while he was alive. In this interview, Charles Jensen sits down with the author of this distinctive new book to dig into the connections between Warhol and, well, everything.

Sonics in Warholia is a fiendishly complex book, so let’s start with the wide angle establishing shot: as the title suggests, the main throughline of the book is a Hoarders-level obsession with all things Andy Warhol.  What drew you to this subject, and why with such intensity?

I prefer to write in response to things, and the main criticism of my previous books is that they are not “accessible.” So I ran in the extreme direction of Andy (we are on a first name basis), because whatever you think about Warhol, you do think something. And Andy is so invested in this very notion of accessibility—that a Coke is a good subject for a screen print because whether you’re Liz Taylor or a janitor, Coke tastes the same and costs the same for everybody. Also, I have always been interested in empty signifiers, very concerned with people and objects that appear to contain multitudes. As an undergrad, I bet myself that I could use a Rubik’s Cube as a visual aid for every presentation I gave until graduation—and I did. Andy is most certainly an empty signifier; I’m hardly the first person to write about that. I should’ve said first thing that I owe a tremendous (really, tremendous) debt to Wayne Koestenbaum.

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