MONDAY ARTPOST 1107-2022

MONDAY
ARTPOST
1107-2022
ISSN1918-6991
MONDAYARTPOST.COM
Columns by Artists and Writers
Bob Black / bq / Cem Turgay /
Fiona Smyth / Gary Michael Dault
/ Holly Lee / Kai Chan / Kamelia
Pezeshki/ Shelley Savor / Tamara
Chatterjee / Wilson Tsang /
+ The Salt, the Oil the Milk (Bill Burns)
:‐) Free Reads: Songs from the Acid-free
Paper Box (Lee Ka-sing)
MONDAY ARTPOST published on Mondays. Columns by Artists and Writers. All Right Reserved. Published since 2002.
An Ocean and Pounds publication. ISSN 1918-6991. email to: mail@oceanpounds.com

Free Reads for a Week
https://books.oceanpounds.com/2022/10/sab.html
Songs from the Acid-free Paper Box
An Installation-On-Paper by Lee Ka-sing, 2022
A suite of sixty photographs in sequence.
Fifty two Fragments of photo paper test-strips
from the 80s-90s archive of Ka-sing and Holly’s
studio. In addition, eight new photographs on
Kai Chan’s sculptural objects.
The work was created, on the occasion of
“2K 4.0”, the fourth collaborative exhibition
in Toronto by Kai Chan and Lee Ka-sing.
“Songs from the Acid-free Paper Box”,
an original work in the format of a book,
12x12 inch, 106 pages, with linen hardcover.
Printed on 216 gsm matte paper,
in a seven-colour digital offset process.
Book issued in Limited Edition of Five.
:‐)
Songs from the Acid-free Paper Box is available at OCEAN POUNDS
https://oceanpounds.com//products/songs-from-the-acid-free-paper-box
PATREON members unlimited access OCEAN POUNDS read-on-line publications
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Leaving Taichung
Station
Bob Black
19 Fragments of Youth, Athirst
“Have you feared the future would be nothing to you?”--Whitman
XIX: 2021-2022
Flat muscled and honey coloured, the carapace of memory
sea secrets braid the corners of his ears, now gone.
we flood each other with loss,
we finger each other with loam and detritus from the hovering albatross
light-lanterned, and the flight around each other’s mouth:
the stitching, the unwitching
this black land of grief toward which I face the current alone.
all we once had, and wrote long into the night, now latched,
the dreams dug down and undone,
the same for you?
Hear me NaiNai
utterance of creek and crime, the eel and the fisherman’s keel
a patois of tea and time, this fragment caught up
mercurial as the tide, the goings of our ruins
a spade of undertow
and what was left of you but hair and nails and tossed socks
a pebble fragment
whisp of word, the fens’ hold
all your wonder once ebullient, now this minuscule pair
and a bleep of clacking.
oh NaiNai, hear me, please
M ∞: forward ending
I open
a time of quiet truths.
not forsaken but long left
cuckoo from lost ones and longing
my heart arun in tugging,
the trailing of light and tagging sea
and
you, closed
rivers and harbours and dogeared pages,
bedhead and shoulder sprung, joint bones and rigmarole,
time’s tempest now a whimper, all gone.
we both, now long, become land dust and liquor
a whirlpool of light, barking beings disjoined and swaying
we both, embryology and accent and terminus taking, so
we left leafing outward, the phonetics and semantics of land and of the sun,
all of us now, malaprop and false sibilants, echo and cadence,
black and ungendered all, the language run.

ART LOGBOOK
Holly Lee
Tom Sandberg’s Elusive Photographs Show Mysteries in Plain Sight
https://aperture.org/editorial/tom-sandbergs-elusive-photographs-show-mysteries-in-plain-sight/

From the Notebooks
(2010-2022)
Gary Michael Dault
Number 162: High-Swimming Fish or Low-Flying Angel (November 1, 2022)

Greenwood
Kai Chan
Study
paper and wire

Order this duo-cover Exhibition Catalogue at BLURB
https://www.blurb.ca/b/11309704-2k-4-0
64 pages, 8.5x11 inch, paperback, CAD$35 each

Poem a Week
Gary Michael Dault
stretches out in the sun
like a meadow cat
and reaches over his head
for a handfuls of candyfloss cloud
For Brian, on his Birthday
(written a couple of days ago for my friend Brian
Flack, as he heads into his 75th year. Brian is a poet
and novelist. He lives with his wife, painter Susan
Straiton, in Prince Edward County, a paradisiacal
portion of eastern Ontario)
we email one another
but I don’t see him much
except in my mind’s eye
where, within that gelatinous landscape,
I watch him walking
the still-edenic countryside
near his home
this is poetry day and night:
sometimes he writes down
what he thinks
and fixes his pastoralism
to the page
but sometimes
he just walks through
the wilderness of time
negotiating his way
back to himself
the way a river flows home
November 2, 2022
I see how he rubs his back
against the trees,
plucks at harp strings
of long grass

CHEEZ
Fiona Smyth

TANGENTS
Wilson Tsang
Vortex

Open/Endedness
bq 不 清
紗 布 與 棉 花
你 從 來 無 法 自 控
在 夜 間 , 做 白 天 的 事
譬 如 加 班 : 在 球 場 末 端 守 門
提 防 突 如 其 來 的 弧 線 球
GAUZE AND COTTON
You have never been able to abstain from it.
At night, you do things that you do during the day,
Like working overtime: keeping goal at the end of the field;
guarding against any unexpected curveballs.
而 在 這 片 土 地 上
我 們 專 注 從 內 往 內 望
時 裝 模 特 兒 認 真 地 走 一 條 不 穩 的 天 橋
相 識 的 人 , 相 互 保 持 距 離
And here in this land,
We focus on things from the inside looking in.
Fashion models diligently walk their shaky runways.
People who know each other keep distance from each other,
就 像 林 木 農 場 中 未 被 砍 伐 的 聖 誕 樹
樸 實 而 擁 有 生 命
然 而 隨 後 的 節 慶 燈 飾 並 不 是
為 了 照 明 , 正 如 某 些 衣 裝
Like uncut Christmas trees in a tree farm,
Humble and living.
And the festive lights that come after aren’t
For illumination, but are some types of garment
不 是 為 了 保 暖
或 包 紮 什 麼 謊 言 和 我 們 的 自 卑 感
這 刻 我 們 除 了 逆 來 順 受
就 別 無 他 法 了
That aren’t here to keep us warm
Nor to wrap up lies and our inferiority.
Now, there isn’t much we can do but
To submit ourselves to it.
你 朗 讀 一 篇 以 打 字 機 打 印 的 講 詞
並 且 成 功 跳 過 一 些 錯 字
在 眾 人 面 前 做 臨 場 的
修 改 工 作
You recite a typewritten speech,
And manage to skip some typos,
Improvise a few things
In front of an anxious audience.
一 套 賣 座 的 電 影 落 幕 後
有 人 建 議 製 作 前 傳
創 作 更 多 前 所 未 聞 的 史 料 ——
電 腦 是 美 麗 的 原 子 筆
After a blockbuster movie ended its run,
There were suggestions to make a prequel that would
Fabricate more never-been-seen history—
Computers are beautiful ballpoint pens.

The Photograph
coordinated by
Kamelia Pezeshki
A wool thread, a line of a story by Fatemeh Askarinejad
The old Nomad woman is sitting in the tent, where they
prepare the wool threads, sing songs, and tell stories.
Zagros mountains, Fars province, Iran

ProTesT
Cem Turgay

Caffeine Reveries
Shelley Savor
Early Fall Darkness

Travelling Palm
Snapshots
Tamara Chatterjee
“Madagascar (March, 2010) – While
journeying we often found that children
were the bridge into a community. Their
natural curiosity and fearlessness more
readily mitigated perceived prejudices the
weary adult may have had about us, the trio
of foreigners. Curiosity is the one word
that clearly describes the adventure from
the Malgache standpoint and of ours: the
tourists.”

Bill Burns was raised in a book selling family
in Saskatchewan where he learned about art
and books from monks and poets. His projects
about nature and advanced industrialism have
been shown and published widely including at
the Institute of Contemporary Arts, London; KW
Institute for Contemporary Art, Berlin; Mendes
Wood DM, Sao Paulo; the Museum of Modern
Art, New York; the Museum of Art, Seoul; and the
Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam.
His artists’ books and audio works include Bird
Radio, Verlag der Buchhandlung Walther Koenig
and KW Berlin and Cologne: 2011; The Flora and
Fauna Information Service, ICA London: 2008;
Hans Ulrich Obrist Hear Us, YYZ BOOKS and Black
Dog Publishing. Toronto and London: 2016; and
the Power 100 Meta List, Verlag Mark Prezinger,
Vienna: 2018. His editions are included in
collections at Cabinet des Estampes, Geneva; Tate
Britain, London; the Museum of Modern Art, New
York; and the Getty Center, Los Angeles.
Bill believes that autoroutes should now be
ploughed under to make room for more wild birds,
flowers, vegetables and goats.
http://billburnsprojects.com
Bill Burns
The Salt, the Oil
the Milk
Excerpted from Donkey, camera, and
auld lang syne
DOUBLE DOUBLE February edition 2022
The following pages are of drawings by Bill Burns, from his cross-media work
The Salt, the Oil the Milk. Eighteen water-colour and pencil drawings on
paper, approximate size: 145 mm x 192 mm.
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