For a few days before going to the protest, I gathered images of women and girls and arranged them in a group: ancestors, dolls, figures, goddesses, paintings, the living and the dead, some with whom I had been communing. Some are hidden in veils and masks and voodoo. Some are brides or in braids or shy or bold. Daughters, stepdaughters, daughters-in-law, mother, mothers, aunts, grandmothers, great greats, sisters-in-law, relatives in hiding. C. D.
'How much can you tweak English before it malfunctions?'
'QAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE': The visual poetry of Mike Cannell
What does it mean for a language to malfunction?
What funds its means? What makes it done for?
First we have to ask: What is the function of language? What is it is supposed to do? And who decides—who assesses its function?
Is language a Paul Klee twittering machine? A W. Heath Robinson fantasmallegorical don’t-shut-your-contraption? A speech balloon animal? Does one’s signs fit all?