“Valery describes the language of poetry as ‘abrupt returns of the fruit to the wild state.’ I can’t think of a better description of Johnson’s work.”
“In Ray Johnson, how many times do you see the final words of his sentences, speeches, questions, adumbrated by white space or by the rumble of a new thought.”
“It is almost that” evokes the humming state of the not-quite-this-and-not-quite-that, a state that conjures an awareness of what accepted categories cannot contain, what familiar taxonomies cannot order, what one medium cannot express, what a single language cannot circumscribe.
An excerpt from DENIS WOOD’s lively, erudite, and irreverant essay in his eponymous book, EVERYTHING SINGS: MAPS FOR A NARRATIVE ATLAS
IRA GLASS writes in his introduction: “These maps are completely unnecessary. The world didn’t ask for them. They aid no navigation or civic-minded purpose. They’re just for pleasure. They laugh at the stupid Google map I consult five times a day on my phone.”
An excerpt from Bill Berkson’s interview with Franck André Jamme: “They were so simple, so powerful, so quietly and naturally abstract, so near, as well, to my own field. . . Poetry is so often like that, isn’t it?”