I met Carlos Soto-Román in Santiago this January not long after Ugly Duckling Presse’s publication of the English translation of his book 11. Drawing from archival state documents and other found materials, 11 is an experimental work of documentary poetics addressing the dictatorship and its aftermath in Chile starting from the military coup on September 11, 1973.
The ray of way
Ray Hsu is a rockstar who writes books. Or he is a poet who collaborates. Or he is a collaborator who performs. Or he is a performer who teaches. Or he is a teacher who rocks out online at thewayofray.com. Or on his YouTube channel. Critical of the rising tension between “online” and “print”, Ray Hsu works with artists as collaborators, publishers as collaborators and venues as collaborators. To comment on his work I must collaborate with it. The following commentary has been composed entirely of fragments from Ray Hsu’s Cold Sleep Permanent Afternoon, and as such can be read as an online performance of his print.
One sees oneself not as one is, but as others. Mischievous surfaces. Your documents please. One can only do as one does and yet we make do, go on, as if our troops are us. I am at home where I am missing. Problem is all this feels outdated. Books books books. On paper, everything equals out. I, for one, want bravely to be random. Strictly speaking, this may not seem like useful advice, but I think you should do whatever feels natural.