36 Exposures / a bastardised roll of film
photographs by Hoagy Houghton
& texts by Dominic J. Jaeckle
380 pp / 198 x 129mm
designed and typeset by Ana Baliza
published by Dostoyevsky Wannabe
The methodology was as follows. Over the course of a single year, Houghton would send Jaeckle three photographs a month from his archive; Jaeckle would respond with an accompanying prose-work for each image. At the year’s end, the resulting collection would cover twelve months, comprising 36 images and 36 reactions, and express itself as a roll of film in the abstract. A contact sheet spoilt by written interventions; an index of distractions and elaborations; an array of materials that pictures a false or disrupted communication as ideas are exchanged and images developed over the course of a calendar year. From the onset of the project to its end, Jaeckle and Houghton never met in person—this exchange of materials was their only means of communication—and thus, this collaboration is a form of conversation twelve-months wide and three-hundred-and-sixty-five days long. The texts number fragments, at turns essayistic and anecdotal; short stories, prose-poems, and assimilated citations. The images are largely personal: snapshots; familiar faces; passing objects of interest and attention; a visual diary in 35mm.
Diamanda LaBerge Dramm, reads ‘March 2nd (Nina Simone)’
Mark Lanegan, reads ‘March 1st (Mercè Rodoreda)’
Diamanda LaBerge Dramm, reads ‘February 3rd (Alberto Pimenta)’
‘Does language need to be reinvented in order to talk? Or even, to see? Dominic Jaeckle thinks so, and provides a compelling, propulsive essay poetry to accompany a year-long suite of pictures by Hoagy Houghton.
This twitterverse feed takes philosophy personally, mixmasters it up with best friends and late-night movie simulations. While there are encounters by the galore, and biographical instants dropped like crumbs on a forest walk, the focus here is not on the story, but the lighting, the staging, the choreography of digression. Talk about talking. In these mirrors are reflections of a lost brother, an almost date, an almost self, on the times we used to have, the blood rites we shared until we couldn’t. Black and white photos offer starting points to think about colour. What colour is the memory of brother?
The photos offer shadowy basement creatures caught in the half light, as if the camera wasn’t even there, vacuuming up every decisive moment. Pensive, coiled, we are dropped in the midst of a drama that will need to bury a few Russian philosophers before life can begin again. And coursing through it all this essential belief: that the right painted apple, the right sentence, the right thought: would change the world. The revolution is in the waiting room.’
Mike Hoolboom (see here)
Verse & Chorus
For an inheritor of various of this book’s pages, see below for a kunstkammer of noises (in partnership with Nadia de Vries) that merges pages from 36 EXPOSURES and de Vries’ second collection, I Failed to Swoon (see here) into a gust of wind 29 minutes long.
An exquisite corpse of an “I” played out in a multiplicity of voices, Verse & Chorus is an experimental act of collaborative reworking that quilts and collages cuts from these two manuscripts into an imagined third object and—in order of appearance—features readings from Nadia de Vries; Cíntia Gil; Diamanda La Berge Dramm; Mark Lanegan; Stanley Schtinter; Becket Flannery; and Vilde Valerie Bjerke Torset, with an accompaniment of borrowed songs and original music from Matthew Shaw; Mark Lanegan; and Duke Garwood.
Verse & Chorus premiered with Montez Press Radio (see here), and was broadcast as an element of the online programme for the 2021 edition of Rewire Festival (6 / 9 May 2021, see here). The release carries artwork by Jason Shulman, ‘Lenticular Marilyn,’ detail (circa 2017).