La rabbia / Anger

A chronology of poems selected & translated by Robin Moger.

I had intended my poetry to be a kind of salvation for me in my confrontation with the onslaught of a perpetually antagonistic world. When this confrontation failed, I tried convincing myself that surrendering to the world—being a scrap of paper floating downriver—was the only salvation available to me. But this proved impossible, too.

Wadih Saadeh

In a 2014 AlMayadeen TV interview with the Lebanese poet-host Zahi Wehbe, Wadih Saadeh called his work ‘an autobiography of other people’s lives.’ At this point in the conversation he had already explained that people are essentially alike, so the deeper you plunge into yourself the more you find out about others. Speaking casually, the then sixty-six-year-old—very arguably the greatest living Arabic poet—did not seem to realise how startling is the idea. Donald M. Murray’s ‘All Writing is Autobiography’ is one thing, but to say that poetry is a way to be someone else, and so let someone else be you—that feels like a coup de foudre. A poem, Saadeh told Wahbe, is ‘a momentary, illusory cure’ from the horrors of the world, wounds actually dressed by working, having a family, emigrating. He called the third person, which in Arabic translates to ‘the absent one,’ ‘a shadow self, the self that cannot be present.’ Summoning that inner absence, switching on the reader’s presence, is what the Lebanese master manages, every time. 

Youssef Rakha, 
from his Afterword, ‘The Australian’

Born in Murcia in 1165, Ibn Arabi was a prolific Muslim philosopher and poet. He travelled extensively before settling in Damascus, where he died in 1240. Tarjuman al-Ashwaq, or The Interpreter of Desires, is a cycle of sixty-one Arabic poems. They speak of loss and bewilderment, a spiritual and sensual yearning for the divine, and a hunger for communion in which near and far collapse.

Agitated Air is a correspondence in poems between Istanbul and Cape Town, following the wake of The Interpreter of Desires. Collaborating at a distance, Yasmine Seale and Robin Moger work in close counterpoint, making separate translations of each poem, exchanging them, then writing new poems in response to what they receive. The process continues until they are exhausted, and then a new chain begins.

Translated and re-translated, these poems fray and eddy and, their themes of intimacy across distance made various, sing back and forth, circling and never landing. Absence and approach, knowing and unknowing, failure and repetition: Ibn Arabi’s cycle of ecstatic love shimmers with turbulence. Seale and Moger move into and against these contending drifts, finding in the play of dissatisfaction and endurance a prompt for new poetry. 

The Liberated Film Club—running from its birth to its death, 2016 to 2020—would guarantee a wide wing-span for critical conversation. Screening “Liberated film” (a loose category designed to scaffold the show), a guest would be invited to introduce a film; an audience seated to watch it through; but there’d be an interruption to that typical format. Neither the audience nor the guest would have any idea what film would be shown, and this anonymised format would invite broad and antagonistic perambulation on the what, the why and the how of film.

An interrogation of what we do when we sit in a cinema; a reckoning with the kind of posture we should assume when we frame a film for further talk. Playing with the various ways we should consider and reproach the institutions built around all of our cultures of making and the manners and methods of all of our cultures of consumption, the Liberated Film Club was a rare reflection on the act of reflection itself.

An anthology publication,
featuring contributions from
John Akomfrah;
Chloe Aridjis;
Dennis Cooper;
Laura Mulvey;
Chris Petit;
Mania Akbari;
Elena Gorfinkel;
Juliet Jacques;
Ben Rivers;
Dan Fox;
Sean Price Williams;
Adam Christensen;
Stewart Home;
Stephen Watts;
Tony Grisoni;
Gideon Koppel;
Astra Taylor;
Miranda Pennell;
Gareth Evans;
Adam Roberts;
Tai Shani;
Anna Thew;
Xiaolu Guo;
Andrea Luka Zimmerman;
William Fowler;
Athina Tsangari;
John Rogers;
Shama Khanna;
Shezad Dawood;
Damien Sanville;
& Stanley (& Winstanley) Schtinter.

(Eds.) Stanley Schtinter,
with Dominic J. Jaeckle
& Jon Auman

Published on the centenary year of Pasolini’s birth, Pier Paolo Pasolini: Writing on Burning Paper is a dual edition that stages a dialogue between cinema today and Pasolini’s timeless films and words.

The two complementary volumes slide into one another, forming a unique set that evokes and celebrates Pasolini’s enduring influence. The smaller book features his epic autobiographical poem ‘Poet of the Ashes’, in a revised translation by esteemed poet Stephen Sartarelli; the larger book comprises original tributes by vital filmmakers from across the contemporary cinema landscape.

Twenty filmmakers shared personal reflections in the form of essays, poems, photographs, drawings and more: Catherine Breillat, Luise Donschen & Helena Wittmann, Jia Zhangke, Radu Jude, Payal Kapadia, Alexandre Koberidze, Dane Komljen, Mike Leigh, Mariano Llinás, Roberto Minervini, Valérie Massadian, Luc Moullet, Ben Rivers, Angela Schanelec, Ulrich Seidl, Basma al-Sharif, Deborah Stratman, Anocha Suwichakornpong and Gustavo Vinagre.

Derek Jarman’s unrealised film treatment, The Assassination of Pier Paolo Pasolini in the Garden of Earthly Delights, takes as its subject matter the events leading up to and including the murder of Italian film director Pier Paolo Pasolini following the making of his final film Saló, or the 120 Days of Sodom in 1975. 

Written in 1984, the setting of Jarman's film is inspired by the renaissance painter Hieronymus Bosch’s triptych, The Garden of Earthly Delights (1490-1500), a painting that depicts both the joys and perils of temptation, and which Jarman encountered on a visit to the Museo de Prado in Madrid the year he began working on the project. 

For the first time, a facsimile of the treatment is presented alongside reproductions from the film's workbook, which show Jarman's calligraphic notes towards the film’s sequences, themes, cinematography, lighting, sound, costume, casting and props. 

2025 marks fifty years since Pasolini's murder and thirty-two since Jarman’s death due to AIDS. Against a backdrop of funding cuts to the arts and the arrival of the HIV/AIDS epidemic that vanished away so many important artists and visionaries, The Assassination of Pier Paolo Pasolini in the Garden of Earthly Delights is a powerful elegy to the decadence of queer cinema and the tragedy of its last auteur. 

Derek Jarman was one of the most influential British artists of the twentieth century. His practice, as diverse as it was prolific, spanned painting, sculpture, film, writing, stage design, gardening and activism. He was an outspoken campaigner for LGBTQIA+ rights, and was one of the first public figures in the UK to raise awareness for those living with HIV/AIDS, announcing his own HIV diagnosis on the radio in 1986.

The Conspiracy of Equals (1796) is often hailed as the first revolution against a revolutionary state. Even if the conspirators were soon found out and put on trial, their ideas of radical equality and liberty shaped future generations of revolutionaries worldwide. An Anarchist Playbook—the first publication in Tenement’s new imprint, No University Press—gathers together many of the key documents from their trial across a myriad forms, with a number of these texts appearing herein in their first English-language translation.

Assembled in the Playbook are the last words of Gracchus Babeuf, the leader of the conspiracy and a radical proponent of the abolition of private property, and of his fellow conspirator Augustin Darthé, as they faced the guillotine. We’ve a letter, written in the popular idiom of the sans-culottes, that urges the common soldier to rebel; the score and lyrics of a street song that names the new class enemy: the wealthy bourgeoisie who have profited from the revolution; a first-time English translation of ‘The Last Judgement of All Kings’—an extraordinary one-act play by Sylvain Maréchal, the unofficial poet of the Conspiracy, that was performed to considerable acclaim in Year II of the Revolution (and that the Workshop is in the process of adapting for contemporary audiences). 

Many of these texts were never published in their own time, and form a part of the testament left behind by Philippe Buonarroti, a leading conspirator who inspired new generations of revolutionaries across Europe over the course of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Among the best known works included is the Manifesto of Equals, long considered a founding text of social, communist and anarchist revolutions. The Playbook presents a translation of the Manifesto alongside other key texts by the conspirators, reconstructing the richness and variety of revolutionary communication that informs the editorship, shape, and scope of this volume.

An original reading of Pier Paolo Pasolini's work and “impulses”, between aesthetic and psychoanalytic reflection.

Une lecture originale du corpus et de la biographie de Pier Paolo Pasolini, sous le signe de l'éthique et des « pulsions » qui y sont à l'œuvre, entre réflexions esthétique et psychanalytique.

Relue à l'aune de la psychanalyse et des théories queer, l'œuvre de Pier Paolo Pasolini constitue un Dehors fertile pour la réflexion contemporaine. Pour faire face à l'apathie, pour affronter la souffrance, pour réveiller la réalité désabusée, comment tirer parti de la descente aux enfers pasoliniens ? Comment son travail peut-il aider à mieux appréhender le contemporain sans le condamner d'une traite ? Pasolini aimait se définir comme « une force du passé ». Il ne faut pas laisser sombrer sa lutte contre le conformisme petit bourgeois et le développement du capitalisme dans un conservatisme quelconque. La lutte pasolinienne, son combat au corps-à-corps avec la langue, le visible, le dicible ne peut rester vain.

Re-lire et re-revoir Pasolini pour nommer le contemporain : le chantier est vaste, d'autant plus imposant qu'il est resté inachevé. Films, pièces de théâtre, romans, poésies, essais... en chaque lieu, surgit la suspension des certitudes bien-pensantes et résonnent les voix des sans-voix : ragazzi, prostituées, spectres, lucioles, sous-prolétariat du monde entier. S'ensuit une série de questions déterminantes pour l'actualité de la pratique psychanalytique et de la pensée. Comment (se) dit-on ? Comment (se) réfléchit-on ? Comment (se) désire-t-on ? Où et comment retrouver un peu de « grande santé » ? Où et comment trouver un nouveau cap ?

D'Edipo Re à Salo, d'Orgia à Petrolio, de Comizi d'amore aux Ecrits corsaires, Pasolini décline des corps, des visages, des personnages animés par des pulsions qui ne cessent d'inventer une logique mettant au défi le moralisme de l'autorité paternelle. Ces pulsions répètent sans cesse un même échec. Que signifie cette omniprésence de l'échec, l'insistance de la foirade tant dans l'œuvre filmée qu'écrite ? Comment articuler le refus du père pasolinien avec son attachement revendiqué à l'œuvre freudienne? Répondre à ces questions, c'est entrer dans la poétique même de l'écriture pasolinienne et dans des questions psychanalytiques de la plus brûlante actualité.

Rapprocher Pasolini de la psychanalyse et des théories du genre ne vise ni à psychologiser son œuvre, ni à faire du poète un précurseur des idéologies queer. S'emparer des pulsions pasoliniennes, c'est, bien plutôt, mettre au travail la praxis par les idéologies : réveiller l'écoute analytique, les idéologies queer et l'esthétique pasolinienne.

L'essai se veut une porte d'entrée pour comprendre l'éthique à l'œuvre chez Pasolini et dans la pratique de l'inconscient. Son champ référentiel principal est le corpus pasolinien analysé à partir de l'œuvre freudienne et des apports lacaniens ainsi que de leurs reprises par les avancées des théories du genre (Teresa de Lauretis, Leo Bersani, Gayle Rubin...).

This text is filthy and fertilized, filling and emptying, filling and emptying, atrocious and politic with meaning. The Cow is a mother, a lover, and a murdered lump of meat, rendered in the strongest of languages. I cannot count the altering that happens in the very large rooms that are the guts of her.

To call Ariana Reines’ poetry scatological doesn’t even scratch the surface. “I COULD BE A DIAPER FOR THE DAY’S RESIDUALS,” she writes, and, “She clasped the event to her and proceeded. Fucked her steaming/ eyehole and ended it.” The Cow is a body in the way that texts are bodied—”Are you so intelligent your body doesn’t have you in it.”—but not in the way that allows the text to become desensitized, depersonalized, sterilized.

Winner of the 2006 Alberta Prize