"The prose poems in Installations invite the reader to encounter, in one extraordinary afternoon, a series of twenty art installations where something fantastic, perhaps improbable, occurs at the intersection of installed and imagined. At the heart of this afternoon is the great, dangerous promise of mystery and renewal that greets each spectator who enters a museum. The presence of other visitors underscores the human spirit of the installations, the pooling together of persons in the sometimes confounding but always refreshing wake of great art." A dynamic art installation creates a stage for spectator, event, and the imagination. Installations unites personal experience, suspense, and narrative - in those moments when we are forever altered by the mysterious and the enchanted.
Joe Bonomo's books include Play This Book Loud: Noisy Essays, No Place I Would Rather Be: Roger Angell and a Life In Baseball Writing, Field Recordings from The Inside (essays), AC/DC’s Highway to Hell (33 1/3 Series), Jerry Lee Lewis: Lost and Found, Installations (National Poetry Series), Sweat: The Story of The Fleshtones, America’s Garage Band, and Conversations With Greil Marcus. A five-time "Notable Essays" selection at Best American Essays, he's the Music Columnist at The Normal School and Professor of English at Northern Illinois University.
Bonomo's _Installations_ is mysteriously gorgeous and intellectually haunting. Each prose poem (beginning with the lines: "A large, well-lit, white-walled room. You walk to a red line painted on the floor.") serves as an installation art piece that is examined by a "you." These pieces (the poems/prose/memoir) replicate the art pieces in an innovative way--one that realistically enacts viewing art into written word. Like viewing art sometimes I just moved on to the next piece without hesitation, sometimes I lingered, other times I obsessed and forgot the time, and almost always I acknowledged rigorous thought and felt some kind of emotion.
Note to self: One emotion I felt several times was jealousy (over the form, language, concept) but, of course, the kind that is from the most loving place.
Like minimalist contemporary art some of the pieces "seemed" easy or underwhelmed or repetitive in a non-repetitive way. Though these qualities could be viewed as shortcomings, they appear to be intentional, at least in my reads. These are aspects I would like to hear Bonomo discuss, though.
The pieces (as identified by their last lines) that I gravitated towards were: "6:47," "Planes and birds glide in eternal gravity," "Your body, in mourning and great reluctance, received you back," "With history in front of you, you feel a tingle at the back of your neck, and you turn around," and "You want to open that drawer."
My all-time fav for its ability to articulate my own art viewing emotions most closely: "What is that small bloom of dread in your chest that you can't name?"
_Installations_ is full of real and surreal surprises, lockets of images, and invitations to join in. And join in, you should.
I wouldn't say that I enjoyed Installations, but I did find it intriguing. I have a soft spot for art books. In this collection, Bonomo describes twenty-four fictional art installations in prose poetry. I found the poetry and the ideas underwhelming. I also wish there were more to it, quantity-wise (there are eleven filler pages!)
Each poem starts with "A large, well-lit, white-walled room. You walk to a red line painted on the floor." Apparently Bonomo has never been to an art gallery (or else his artistic visions all involve red lines on the floor...a stark boundary between artwork and gallery generally isn't a feature of installation). His use of second person perspective is unusual but it works. The poems are pretty matter-of-fact—a curator could probably assemble his installations with ease—although there are some surreal parts in which the reader and other "spectators" interact with the artworks.
I could see some of these installations being actual artworks. However, many of his ideas are amateur-ish, like what you would expect from an undergrad art student. Maybe this is meant to be a critique of the pointlessness of contemporary art? Or does Bonomo want to be taken seriously? This book will do in a pinch if you have an unfulfilled craving to visit an art gallery.
Poems that I liked:
"No one, you notice, has erased a line," "The film continues to play in a dark, closed box," "With history in front of you, you feel a tingle at the back of your neck, and you turn around," "What is that small bloom of dread in your chest that you can't name?" "And again a voice asks, What is that small bloom of dread in your chest that you can't name?"
A great idea, but fitfully executed. I wanted this to move further into prose, into the weirdness of the concept, and instead it just... was. Even the last pieces, which were decidedly more surreal, never quite did what I hoped this collection would do.
A Borges-like invention machine in which each poem in the collection presents an imaginary installation piece through which Bonomo stages his meditations on time, mortality, technology, contemporary identity and art. These curious prose poems are as arresting as they are disquieting.