Michael Martin Shea with Nick Montfort and Joseph Mosconi

Nick Montfort and Joseph Mosconi

Best American Experimental Writing is an anthology series focused on dynamic literature from both emerging and established writers. The most recent edition, BAX 2015, was released in January of this year by Wesleyan University Press, and includes work from writers Nick Montfort and Joseph Mosconi that involves technicolor palates and Python programming. They (virtually) sat down with BAX managing editor Michael Martin Shea to discuss critical intimacy, display technologies, online corporate prisons, and the Burger King font.

Michael Martin Shea: Let’s start with a basic question–can each of you talk a little bit about where your pieces in BAX come from and what their compositional process was like? Or, perhaps more interestingly, where or how do these pieces fit in with your larger writing projects?

Nick Montfort: I often write computer programs that generate texts. Actually, I have three books, and two others coming this year, and another coming in 2017, that consist of computer programs and their output. That first page is often the program I wrote, which happens to be in Python in this case, and the pages that follow are the output of the program. This practice goes back almost to the beginning of general-purpose digital computers; it was being done in the 50s and 60s. I’m very interested in exploring language and computation, and writing text-generating programs can be a very good way to do that.

Joseph Mosconi: The most straightforward answer is that Demon Miso/Fashion In Child is a list poem. However, there is some crucial context missing from the poems excerpted in BAX. At the end of my book I write: “These are all the names of things I’ve eaten” and “The text is set in 46-point Insaniburger font. Insaniburger is based on the old Burger King logo that can still be seen on some signs in smaller cities.” So the compositional method was as simple as taking note of the names of dishes I ordered off of menus from various restaurants in America, Europe, and Asia. It is autobiographical and documentary in the most basic sense. The more complex answer is that some of the language is entirely made up, and the cover of the book (a manipulated photo of unidentifiable food waste), combined with the types of dishes I chose to eat, the choice of typography, and the fact that the book is printed in full color, situates the book in a global consumer context. It’s not just about food or eating. It’s also, at least in part, about language as commodity fetishism and the production of waste—the way that food distribution, and the way we talk about food, betrays a technique of control. It tracks a desire to normalize language, which is related to the struggle to communicate. As Andrew Maxwell, my accomplice at the Poetic Research Bureau, puts it: “Poetry is a commitment to food access.” Or as the inhabitants of Sweethaven would sing: “Everything is food food food.”

The People: Joseph Mosconi & Feliz Lucia Molina (Ep. 17)

The People with Insert Blanc Editor and Publisher Mathew Timmons and Insert Blanc Artist Ben White, features the voices and ideas of The People that make up the cultural landscape of Los Angeles, the west coast, and beyond on KCHUNG 1630AM every 3rd Sunday at 3pm and podcast on iTunes as The People Radio. The People is me, The People is you, The People is we, and You Can Too! … like a Broken Record magically repaired. In this issue of The Conversant, we feature The People episode 17 with Joseph Mosconi and Feliz Lucia Molina. —Mathew Timmons and Ben White

The People: Joseph Mosconi & Feliz Lucia Molina Ep. 17

Originally broadcast on Sunday, July 20, 2014

Joseph Mosconi and Feliz Lucia Molina discuss each other’s work and the preloaded nostalgia of Full House. Plus Diana Arterian delivers William Blake action in the very first Notes From The People. Music from Richard Bott and The Fucked Up Beat and as always our insterstitial music is the song “Ocfif” by Lewis Keller.

Joseph Mosconi is the grandson of Italian orange growers and piano tuners from the dusty town of Bakersfield, CA. He is the author of Fright Catalog from Insert Blanc Press and Demon Miso / Fashion in Child from Make Now Press.

Feliz Lucia Molina is the daughter of Filipino immigrants. Born and raised in the San Fernando Valley, she lives in Los Angeles and is the author of Undercastle from Magic Helicopter Press. She is also co-author of The Wes Letters with Ben Segal and Brett Zehner from Outpost 19.

The Poetic Research Bureau

Joseph Mosconi, Andrew Maxwell, Ara Shirinyan
Joseph Mosconi, Andrew Maxwell, Ara Shirinyan

The Poetic Research Bureau, a California-based publishing collective, hosts one of the longest active reading series in Los Angeles, based in Chinatown’s Arts District. Its publishing emphasis is on ephemeral and short-run books and folios, and its directors seek to cultivate composition, publication and distribution strategies that enlarge the public domain. The Conversant has invited the Bureau’s co-directors Joseph Mosconi, Andrew Maxwell and Ara Shirinyan to engage in an ongoing discussion concerning the Bureau’s various activities.

Joseph Mosconi: People may know the Poetic Research Bureau as a reading series in Los Angeles. But we are also a fledgling publishing collective and have tried to forge an identity through various essays and shared statements. So I’d like to start off by addressing the tangled topic of our poetics, shared and unshared, the different assumptions each of us hold about poetry and aesthetic practice and perhaps loop back to how coterie may or may not play a part in this.

Ara, you identify strongly as a conceptual writer. Your imprint Make Now Press has published what many consider to be landmark books in conceptual poetry by Kenneth Goldsmith, Yedda Morrison, Rob Fitterman and others. You were even included in Against Expression: An Anthology of Conceptual Writing.

Andrew, in your poem “The Conceptual Poet and the Hiring Committee,” you seem to criticize the figure of the conceptual poet as a careerist “open to traveling for panel appearances” and “envious of painting’s egress.” Elsewhere you write: “Against Expression. Really?” and describe it as “A hold-back project, as nostalgic as self-loathing, even where the self is accidentally yours.” And yet you are no enemy of proceduralism and “historical thefts and pastiche.”