here we listen to broadcast

Cincinnati Modern Art Museum David Hurn 1968

“The task of the translator consists in finding that intended effect [Intention] upon the language into which he is translating which produces in it the echo of the original. This is a feature of translation which basically differentiates it from the poet's work, because the effort of the latter is never directed at the language as such, at its totality, but solely and immediately at specific linguistic contextual aspects. Unlike a work of literature, translation does not find itself in the center of the language forest but on the outside facing the wooded ridge; it calls into it without entering, aiming at that single spot where the echo is able to give, in its own language, the reverberation of the work in the alien one.” — Walter Benjamin, Illuminations: Essays and Reflections

Paul Kos Reflection 1998

“Translation is a mode. To comprehend it as mode one must go back to the original, for that contains the law governing the translation: its translatability. The question of whether a work is translatable has a dual meaning. Either: Will an adequate translator ever be found among the totality of its readers? Or, more pertinently: Does its nature lend itself to translation and, there-fore, in view of the significance of the mode, call for it?” — Walter Benjamin, Illuminations: Essays and Reflections

Max Brückner From: Über die gleicheckig-gleichflächigen, diskontinuierlichen und nicht-konvexen Polyeder / Concerning the Isogonal-Isohedral, Discontinuous and Nonconvex Polyhedra Halle, 1906 [x]

Donald Coxeter positioning props in a caleidoscope From King of Infinite Space: Donald Coxeter, the Man Who Saved Geometry Siobhan Roberts New York, 2006

Agnes Martin Untitled c. 1957

Donald Woodman Agnes Martin Galisteo, NM, 1988

Kaija Saariaho ... à la fumée, 1990 [x]

1. The earth has opened wide. Doctoring rains were dripping drugs to ease what was enwreathed. All through the night, from volcano’s deep veins, hot lava seethed. My land! You are the fever of this earth! Trapped in your illusions, you ask once more, still gently, softly, for all you are worth: Where is the sore? 2. My soul! What calmness you show on your face! Silence dropped into pits like a dead stone, while I, like a stray doe, have lost the place I’ve called my home. I’m hitting walls, while attempting to deal with my revenge as a painful, faithful part, well aware that my Achilles’ heel is in my heart. Jiří Orten, The Wounded, from Jiří Orten Selected Poems, trans. Josef Tomás

Photograph of Lia Cook kneeling on ‘Space Continuum I’ 1973 From Lia Cook papers, 1968-2012, Archives of American Art

Richard Long Dartmoor Walks 1972

Lorna Simpson Untitled (melancholy dame/carmen jones) 2001 [x]

Mirtha Dermisache Text 1974 “Her [Mirtha Dermisache’s] work, which she created while living under the junta in Argentina, is lasting and subversive even though she barely penned a legible word. One could argue that writing is a state of being in conflict—with oneself, with one’s subject, with one’s government, or with one’s community. But the unconscious impulse to write comes before the word, and it does not always take the form of language. Everything that follows—in how we traditionally conceive of writing—is an attempt to capture that compulsion, to make approximate marks that convey our thoughts to others. This is what John Berger referred to when he wrote, “The boon of language is that potentially it is complete, it has the potentiality of holding with words the totality of human experience.” [x]

Mirella Bentivoglio From Page To Space. Women In The Italian Avant-garde Between Language And Image Exhibition announcement at Casa Italiana Columbia University, NY 1979 [x]

Keiji Uematsu Wave Motion I 1976

Helena Almeida Untitled 2010

1) Shirin Neshat, Offered Eyes, 1993 2) Shirin Neshat, Untitled, from Women of Allah, 1996 [x]

The lover’s heart is drunk, around your face it’s dancing A candle around which two hundred moths are dancing Wherever light that emanates from God is found One in a mosque, another in a wine-shop, is dancing And in an idol’s temple was your beauty painted? I see the idol and the temple, both are dancing The preacher told me yesterday to give up love Today he broke his oath, and drunkenly he’s dancing My heart sees both your curls’ snare, and your pretty mole— It trembles at the snare, around the mole it’s dancing And has the morning breeze passed through your lovely tresses? In gardens nightingales, in ruins owls, are dancing Behind the veil the banner of my love is streaming Look, at its sound, crazed Mastureh is wildly dancing Mastureh Guri, Untitled, from The Mirror of My Heart: A Thousand Years of Persian Poetry by Women, ed. Dick Davis

Nam June Paik Charlotte Moorman with TV Cello and TV Eyeglasses 1971 Ph: Peter Moore