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Unrecounted

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Unrecounted combines thirty-three of what W. G. Sebald called his "micropoems"-miniatures as unclassifiable as all of his works-with thirty-three exquisitely exact lithographs by one of his oldest friends, the acclaimed artist Jan Peter Tripp. The lithographs portray, with stunning precision, pairs of eyes-the eyes of Beckett, Borges, Proust Jasper Johns, Francis Bacon, Tripp, Sebald, Sebald's dog Maurice. Brief as haiku, the poems are epiphanic and anti-narrative. What the author calls "time lost, the pain of remembering, and the figure of death" here find a small home. The art and poems do not explain one another, but rather engage in a kind of dialogue. "The longer I look at the pictures of Jan Peter Tripp," Sebald comments in his essay, "the better I understand that behind the illusions of the surface, a dread-inspiring depth is concealed. It is the metaphysical lining of reality, so to speak."

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  • Sprog:
  • Engelsk
  • ISBN:
  • 9780811217262
  • Indbinding:
  • Paperback
  • Sideantal:
  • 112
  • Udgivet:
  • 1. oktober 2007
  • Størrelse:
  • 154x13x257 mm.
  • Vægt:
  • 342 g.
Leveringstid: Ukendt - mangler pt.
Forlænget returret til d. 31. januar 2025
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    Kan formentlig ikke leveres inden jul

Beskrivelse af Unrecounted

Unrecounted combines thirty-three of what W. G. Sebald called his "micropoems"-miniatures as unclassifiable as all of his works-with thirty-three exquisitely exact lithographs by one of his oldest friends, the acclaimed artist Jan Peter Tripp.
The lithographs portray, with stunning precision, pairs of eyes-the eyes of Beckett, Borges, Proust Jasper Johns, Francis Bacon, Tripp, Sebald, Sebald's dog Maurice. Brief as haiku, the poems are epiphanic and anti-narrative. What the author calls "time lost, the pain of remembering, and the figure of death" here find a small home. The art and poems do not explain one another, but rather engage in a kind of dialogue. "The longer I look at the pictures of Jan Peter Tripp," Sebald comments in his essay, "the better I understand that behind the illusions of the surface, a dread-inspiring depth is concealed. It is the metaphysical lining of reality, so to speak."

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