I did a couple of class sessions at the end of the (now blessedly concluded) semester on K. Silem Mohammad's work, and Flarf more generally; it dawned on me (duh) that the way to understand much of Flarf is as Deliberate Kitsch. So, yes, it is the poetic equivalent of Jeff Koons (my answer to the quiz, btw, was "all of the above"). Or maybe Kasey should trademark the epithet "Poet of Light." I don't know.
But I went to the OED for help explaining kitsch to my students. "To affect with sentimentality and vulgarity" - good. Then a bit from the Observer, 1958: "What is so extraordinary about some of these kitsch masterpieces is the way they can be enjoyed on two planes, both as themselves and as their own parodies." Uh-hhhhhhh.
Or this, from This Magazine (which magazine? . . . never heard of it), 1994: "She's playing with a look that is so out it's in, revelling in the kitschiness of the way some people, other people, dress. This isn't a case of fashion nostalgia. This is fashion slumming."
Revised mortician vignette
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"Where's your aria this morning?" I asked the singing mortician as he
leaned out of his red car in his dull scrubs to put on his new and very
white tenni...
5 days ago
3 comments:
Ah! But they have to be "enjoyed as themselves" before being enjoyed as parodies. I've yet to see a piece of flarf that can be enjoyed, ergo....
you don't think it's even a little bit *funny*? . . .
Unfair question! My humor threshold is notoriously low. Three Stooges low. Carrot Top low. Sure, I laugh at Flarf. But I can't pretend the Carrot Top or the Stooges are Chaplin or Steven Wright, and I can't pretend that Flarf is genuine poetry. Like any good American I spend half my life awash in trivia; I don't need Flarf to deepen that flood.
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