glistening windows theory, exhibition text by kaijern koo
glistening windows theory
Ariana Reines on Zoom preaching about The Duino Elegies. Purple orchids in bloom, HOT SAUCE novelty phone case. She’s sitting on the floor. She has the Leishman & Spender translation; I commit it to memory.
The first edition of A Sand Book is tucked within a cover which hosts the title in a glimmering, golden typeface. It beams in a way which the following edition lacks, the latter having adhered to Penguin’s classic matte orange, devoid of all gloss and glitter. The content is unchanged. This is ensured to us by the anonymous hands which leaf through the book, showcasing its innards, all too wary of our skepticism. Ariana posts this on her Instagram: “They say I probably won’t get to touch one of these for months. These hands belong to someone at Penguin,” she tells us (@arianareines, 22 June, 2020). It’s a hushed tip masquerading as a promotion. The second edition is the same, but not really. And if that’s not enough to convince you, the post concludes with two images of a glaring sun, low on the horizon – dare I say it’s golden? We’re right to have been apprehensive. She guides us to the true dwelling of her power.
That power lies in everything she does, as is the way these things go. As I write this, I’m listening to another discussion she hosted: The Palindromic Infinity of Guillaume de Machaut, on the ma fin est mon commencement. “Get your writing instruments out,” she instructs us as she begins to play the recording, and I do. The composition is only a little tinny through the Zoom window. It’s enough. We’re hearing what she’s hearing. Do you feel it? She seems to say, lighting a stick of incense. Yes, yes I feel it. It’s working.