Embroidery sample poems as e-textiles from the Lace Sensor Project

Each of the three dresses in the Lace Sensor Dress collection is embroidered with a different poem, sourced from an antique embroidery sampler. Each poem evokes a different emotion, which corresponds to a gesture that triggers a recording of the poem to be played through tiny speakers crocheted into the dress. The sensors are created from custom-made conductive lace and the harder they are pressed, the louder the poem will play.

Artists Anja Hertenberger and Meg Grant work in “the field of e-textiles and wearable electronics,” according to the Lace Sensor Project website. (Thanks to Pamela Hart for the find.)

there is about half a white moon tonight

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The poem by London writer Mikey Fatboy Delgado is performed by Foy Migado and Kemoe Hopscotch. See YouTube for the text of the poem.

Road to Damascus: Journey with a Syrian poet

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An anonymous Syrian poet muses on real terror versus sleep terrors:

The same man who is trying to shoot me is me. I have no face in the dream, I am the man and me. This horror of the dream stays long.

British filmmaker Roxana Vilk explains:

This film is one of three shorts I made during a week in Beirut in May 2011. The films were commissioned by Reel Festivals and Creative Scotland and the remit was make a series of short films “inspired by” the festival of poets. It was an amazing week, it’s not every day that you get to meet poets from Lebanon, Palestine, Syria and Scotland.

We were also meant to go to Damascus but as the political situation worsened that leg of the festival was cancelled. However, I still wanted to reflect the current situation in one of the films, so I interviewed one of the Syrian poets about his dreams. That was the starting point for this film.

Twenty Second Filmpoem: 20 poets, 20 seconds each

Alastair Cook‘s 22nd filmpoem is both playful and profound, a lovely demonstration of the magic that can happen when poets write ekphrastically in response to film clips.

Twenty Second Filmpoem (the 22nd Filmpoem) is twenty 20 second Filmpoems; it was conceived when I was asked to do a pecha-kucha.org night. An interesting concept, you present 20 slides for 20 seconds; I thought I’d do something a little different, actually create some work for the event. I commissioned 20 writers, all listed below, to write flash fiction against some 1960s found footage I’d edited. It’s ambitious and inevitably some bits work much better than others, but for me it is imperative to push this a little, to leave my comfort zone. And invariable, all the writing is superb, and for that I am thankful.

I also took the opportunity of using Vladimir Kryutchev’s binaural field recordings, for which I thank him. His amazing binaural map of Sergiyev Posad in Russia is here: oontz.ru/en

See the rest of the description on Vimeo to read all 20 short poems. The poets are: Andrew McCallum Crawford, Mary McDonough Clark, Al Innes, Guinevere Glasfurd-Brown, Elspeth Murray, Janette Ayachi, Jane McCance, Donna Campbell, Ewan Morrison, Angela Readman, Gérard Rudolf, Zoe Venditozzi, Jo Bell, Sally Evans, Pippa Little, Tony Williams, Robert Peake, Stevie Ronnie, Sheree Mack and Emily Dodd. Dodd blogged about her part in the production. A couple of excerpts:

I received a link with a password for my film, it was number twenty (password twenty). The film was 1960s found footage and it was beautiful. Alastair had edited it to tell a 1 minute story.

I watched a woman in a white dress on her wedding day. She kept looking at the Best Man. I wrote my initial thoughts down and came back to watch it again, two days later.

My brief was to respond with a piece of flash fiction that could be read aloud within 10 seconds. Alastair wanted it to be short, two or three lines maximum, he said just a haiku in length.


When I was first commissioned I’d thought along the same lines as the bride… is this really me?

  • What if I watch the film and have no emotional response?
  • What if I can’t do flash fiction?
  • What if my piece ruins the whole presentation?

And all of this ran through my head while waiting for a response from Alastair.

Thankfully, I had this reply within a couple of minutes:
No it’s bloody perfect x Baci x

the third person seemed exhausted by Isaac Sullivan

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One of a series of videos by Dustin Luke Nelson for poems in the cassette anthology 21 Love Poems from Hell Yes Press. Like the others in the series, it uses archival footage from the Prelinger Archives: in this case, an old Lucky Strike commercial.

The Disappearing Line (selections) by Mark G. Williams

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Thare are Chapters 6, 8, 11, 20 and 21 of Mark G. Williams‘ erasure-poetry project The Disappearing Line, which he described in an email as follows:

These evolved from using white-out to turn junk mail into found poetry; currently and with these I used popular novels, working backwards from two such novels, one word at a time and making sure plenty of space separates my choices to avoid ‘stealing’ phrases, and working until I get 100-word sentences. I count on short-term memory loss and the use of the text of others to force out phrases and sentences that I likely would never have heard or written otherwise.

Chapter 20 was part of a display at the Los Angeles Center for Digital Art called Looking Forward: Ten Artists to Watch, from June 14–July 7, 2012. Watch all 30 chapters on Mark’s Vimeo channel.

Faites vos jeux by Marleen de Crée

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Update 7/19/12: Swoon informs me that there’s a volume of Marleen de Crée poetry translated into English by Annmarie Sauer due out later this year. And note that Swoon’s two earlier subtitled films for de Crée poems have been re-done with Sauer’s translations.

Marleen de Crée is one of Belgium’s most prominent living poets, with 15 poetry collections and a number of major prizes to her name. Swoon, of course, is without a doubt the most active maker of videopoems in Belgium; this is his third video for a de Crée poem, all three available in two versions: with subtitles and without. The recitation here is by Katrijn Clemer, and the English translation is by Annmarie Sauer.

Most of the footage comes from a 1942 home movie in the Prelinger archive of ephemeral films. I love seeing videopoets make use of this kind of material.