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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...

THREE DAYS   so it’s like, we shouldn’t press our cheeks together like we think / we know because say i saw pen on my sock this morning i looked and finally let some noise pass through lodge / into my ledgers, take heart there & i thought that there was something in the words it slipped down but then all of this   my padded fingers slip on to the handles swing above us we are shifted i mean shifting through the undergrowth & i am   i have fallen over i slipped #~#~# yeah but it’s fucking cheap they’re all so frightened of him and i want some lemon drizzle & the pub & you   HERE east oxford smells like cress now burnt rubber snakes its way up st clements smokes out the morning from my eyes & now the day is rotten limes in the way i speak to you, love   (####take heart, i never hit the right keys))   so the notebook bloomed when my cola leaked & i must wait for it to dry you try to make sense of it, the brown from the red, i mean but i can’t see that you’re right all my thoughts come in full sentences i am trying to pretend they do not three weeks in muck &   three days away from you they have nothing to do with what i mean? but the radio, what men say, #hahaha somebody lives there & kicks the ticker when they should edit, circle me deeper they only know grammar, & even when you are waiting we slip on my surfaces, talk for days about how i should learn to eat again with half a broken jaw & you will be here when i sleep, three days from now   & the days past   & i am always a gutted thing with hands too cold still to work the phone                             POETA EX MACHINA for Veronica Forrest-Thomson   my voice makes the machine work the tape clicks inside but it’s just ether now   if a

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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fiction

February 2012

A Gift from Bill Gates

Wu Ang

TR. Nicky Harman

fiction

February 2012

My name is Mr Thousands and I’ve worked in all sorts of jobs. Most recently, I’ve been spending my...

Art

August 2016

False shadows

Izabella Scott

Art

August 2016

The ‘beautiful disorder’ of the Forbidden City and the Yuanmingyuan (Garden of Perfection and Light) was first noted by...

Interview

Issue No. 1

Interview with Mai-Thu Perret

Timothée Chaillou

Interview

Issue No. 1

Swiss artist Mai-Thu Perret’s ongoing, fourteen year-old project The Crystal Frontier is a multi-disciplinary fiction chronicling the lives of...

 

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