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Rose McLaren

Rose McLaren is an artist in London.



Articles Available Online


Talk Into My Bullet Hole

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July 2015

Rose McLaren

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July 2015

‘Someday people are going to read about you in a story or a poem. Will you describe yourself for those people?’ ‘Oh, I don’t...

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May 2014

Art Does Not Know a Beyond: On Karl Ove Knausgaard

Rose McLaren

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May 2014

Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle has an oddly medieval form: a cycle, composed of six auto-biographical books about the...

It was even worse in Prague [than in Cuba] The only reason they got upset with me — I was in Prague for a month, went to Moscow for a month, trained then to Poland for a month, and went to Prague to leave for New York I got back to Prague on April 26 — the same day I was put on the FBI Dangerous Security List — was elected King of May on May 1, was followed around Prague until May 7, arrested, kept incommunicado, and put on the next plane to London because the minister of culture and the minister of information disapproved of an American gay beatnik, pot-smoking, mantra-chanting Buddhist (or something) being a model for Czechoslovakian youths — Allen Ginsberg, interview   He’d been in Cuba sunning, fucking But he’d only hugged and kissed Fidel Reek of cigars! rum! In that embrace, two of the great beards of our time had grown into each other: Allen’s and Fidel’s, they became inseparable Grew intertwined, then knotted Uncomfortable for all involved Finally Castro had to call his chief executioner, the executioner came with his chief machete but instead of cutting off Allen Ginsberg’s head a hipsterheaded angel of Yahweh arrived in sunglasses and porkpie hat to redirect the blade to only sunder their beards   Fidel put Allen on the first flight to Czechoslovakia Allen brushed his smokestained suit before disembarking He still had Fidel’s hairs on his lapels, that’s what he declared to Customs   Students of the Polytechnic School, even a few faculty members, remember: the first sign they had of Allen’s coming was the beard It was edged out the window of the plane Out the window of the taxi from Ruzyně (airport), as if a flag for a new order, his novy kingdom But he was not yet King It was still April   Allen’s beard was not a religious beard, yet neither was it a beard of dereliction, of dissolution, a lazy facial hirsuteness — the mark of a man who did not care about appearance It fell under none of those categories, contra surveillance and Nomenklatura speculation Truth is, Allen’s beard had always been there, and his face grew from it

Contributor

August 2014

Rose McLaren

Contributor

August 2014

Rose McLaren is an artist in London.

The Prosaic Sublime of Béla Tarr

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Issue No. 6

Rose McLaren

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Issue No. 6

I have to recognise it’s cosmical; the shit is cosmical. It’s not just social, it’s not just ontological, it’s really huge. And that’s why we...
Stalker, Writer or Professor? Geoff Dyer's Zona and Genre

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February 2012

Rose McLaren

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February 2012

‘So what kind of a writer am I, reduced to writing a summary of a film?’ wonders Geoff Dyer half way through Zona. Such...

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poetry

January 2015

Why I'm Not a Great Lover

Clemens J. Setz

TR. Ross Benjamin

poetry

January 2015

Why I’m Not A Great Lover   The circumstances. The zeitgeist.   The inner uncertainty. The lack of belief...

poetry

January 2012

Mount Avila

W. N. Herbert

poetry

January 2012

‘el techo de la ballena’   Time to be climbing out of time as the wild city rates it,...

fiction

March 2017

Initiation

Guadalupe Nettel

TR. Rosalind Harvey

fiction

March 2017

Aside from its absence of windows, my apartment is a mausoleum which bestows an epic dimension upon the important...

 

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