Memory

by Bernadette Mayer

A revered classic of 1970s New York conceptualism, Bernadette Mayer’s Memory synthesizes writing and photography in this prescient “emotional science project” A New York Times Book Review 2020 holiday gift guide pickIn July 1971, Bernadette Mayer embarked on an for one month she shot a roll of 35mm film each day and kept a journal. The result was a conceptual work that investigates the nature of memory, its surfaces, textures and material. Memory is both monumental in scope (over 1,100 photographs, two hundred pages of text and six hours of audio recording) and a groundbreaking work by a poet who is widely regarded as one of the most innovative experimental writers of her generation. Presaging Mayer’s durational, constraint-based diaristic works of poetry, it also evinces her extraordinary―and often unheralded―contribution to conceptual art.Mayer has called Memory “an emotional science project,” but it is far from confessional. This boldly experimental record follows the poet’s eye as she traverses early morning into night, as quotidian minutiae metamorphose into the lyrical, as her stream of consciousness becomes incantatory. In text and image, Mayer constructs the mercurial consciousness of the present moment from which memory is―as she says―“always there, to be entered, like the world of dreams or an ongoing TV show.”This publication brings together the full sequence of images and text for the first time in book form, making space for a work that has been legendary but mostly invisible. Originally exhibited in 1972 by pioneering gallerist Holly Solomon, it was not shown again in its entirety until 2016 at the Poetry Foundation in Chicago and then again in 2017 in New York City at the CANADA Gallery. The text was published without the photographs in 1975 by North Atlantic Books in an edition that has long been out of print.Bernadette Mayer (born 1945) is the author of over 30 books, including the acclaimed Midwinter Day (1982), a book-length poem written during a single day in Lenox, Massachusetts, The Desires of Mothers to Please Others in Letters (1994) and Work and Days (2016), which was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award. Associated with the New York School as well as the Language poets, Mayer has also been an influential teacher and editor. In the art world, she is best known for her collaboration with Vito Acconci as editors of the influential mimeographed magazine 0 TO 9 .

Genres: Poetry, Photography, Art, Memoir

195 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1975

About the author

Bernadette Mayer (born May 12, 1945) is an American poet, writer, and visual artist associated with both the Language poets and the New York School. Mayer's record-keeping and use of stream-of-consciousness narrative are two trademarks of her writing, though she is also known for her work with form and mythology. In addition to the influence of her textual-visual art and journal-keeping, Mayer's poetry is widely acknowledged as some of the first to speak accurately and honestly about the experience of motherhood. Mayer edited the journal 0 TO 9 with Vito Acconci, and, until 1983, United Artists books and magazines with Lewis Warsh. Mayer taught at the New School for Social Research, where she earned her degree in 1967, and, during the 1970s, she led a number of workshops at the Poetry Project at St. Mark's Church in New York. From 1980 to 1984, Mayer served as director of the Poetry Project, and her influence in the contemporary avant-garde is felt widely, with writers like Kathy Acker, Charles Bernstein, John Giorno, and Anne Waldman having sat in on her workshops.

(from Wikipedia)

Reviews

[Elisabeth · Rating 5 out of 5]

The book Memory is a portion of Bernadette Mayer’s conceptual art project documenting a month in the artist’s life in 1971 via photography, sound recordings, and journaling. The exhibition, supported by “a patroness of the arts,” was shown at 98 Green Street [dates unspecified in source interview, more below], the color photographs mounted in one continuous image composite, 4 feet high and 36 feet across, while a recording of Mayer reading her journal entries, a 7 hour loop that conveniently matched the gallery’s hours, so that an entire reading of the book would occur daily throughout the duration of the show. According to Mayer, per a 1978 recording of a class on Memory she conducted at Naropa (http://archive.org/details/Bernadette...), she was trying to get away from the idea of the book, and exploring different modes of reading, fascinated with the idea “could I get [the readers] to be me.” Thus, Memory in its entirety, is a faithful foray into an impossible prospect of capturing everything, the porosity of individual consciousness in all of its rushes, flickers, switches, and frames. In the Naropa recording, Mayer said she became so accustomed to writing all the time that she could not stop after the project was over, that she could not go anywhere without a journal, and that if a pen ran out of ink, and she had no back-up, she would get very nervous, and—if stuck on the subway, wet the felt tip in her mouth to get a few more lines out. Memory begins, July 1: “& the main thing is we begin with a white sink a whole new language is a temptation.” The ampersand, nearly hierogliphic in its in medias res signal, gestures like some yoga pose seated in a past, rooted in the present, and gesturing forward with that G-like hook. Everything from what came before it. And the rush of the speaker’s consciousness ensues. With the first line we are given clues as to how to “read” the text, how to ride the image (in this case, the white sink) into an epic desire (“a whole new language”). In the next line we have echoes of the yogic ampersand: “Men on the wall in postures please take your foot by your hand and think that this is pictures”—the corporeal as thought process, corporeal stance and perception—what is reading? Writing? Mayer’s original vision and intention for Memory demand more from the body—it’s imagined one would have to walk around to see the photographs, to choose how to listen, to navigate the ghost-body of the spatial, sonic text. In the Naropa recording Mayer mentioned how this mode of continuous writing opened up certain listening channels (my inexact term, not hers) in that there would be moments throughout the course of writing in which no “thinking” was happening, which could be interpreted as a bodily take-over of sorts, a dance, because it is that thrill when thought and intention disappear that make the dance ecstatic. I’m still sitting with Memory. More later, but meanwhile my summer project: daily writing, and to the extent possible, continuous writing. Also, Nada Gordon has a great piece on Memory, partially in relation to Proust, here: http://home.jps.net/~nada/mayer5.htm

[Michael · Rating 4 out of 5]

Today everything is nearly automatically chronicled, documented, photographed, recorded and commented upon through our social media sites like Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok.

Bernadette Mayer was ahead of her time by decades in attempting to ambitiously capture her life via text, image and audio all the way back in the month of July 0f 1971.

This was when film had to be developed via chemical solutions, text typed out on typewriters, and audio recorded on bulky Sony and Nagra devices. With her "Memory" art installation, she created a precurser to what we call "blogs" (I mean that in the most reverent way).

I was expecting this to be a quick read. I was surprised that this is much more than a photo coffee table book. It's a deep insight into the young lives of those making a living in New York during a tumultous era when you could live on a small income in Manhatten, when the hope of the World Trade Center just being built towered in our minds, societal mores of the previous generation being shed, and gallery owners giving under-represented artists the ability to show their poignant point of view to the world. And here we are needing to republish this book and remind us how some things haven't changed at all.

[Delia Rainey · Rating 5 out of 5]

holy shit. will write more soon.

“& as i write all this stuff down i know it comes out of nowhere goes nowhere & remains, nothing leaves. it’s almost a truth.”

“you start all over this has happened before list the years
pretty picture of memory noise technicolor. sometimes memory
is noise just parallel to canal & we know it’s the telephone.”

“i spend half my life, the other half, the driver’s door is open & i am describing it”

“what can a diary be not a reconstruction, something put in, use the time, pass it, stain it, pass it, it’s stained, it’s magnified, it sticks in my mind—“

“now let’s eat dinner, watch the tube, love, design. i want to leave this place”

[Brian · Rating 4 out of 5]

I’m a big fan of photobooks, and already have way too many in my collection, including books by Stephen Shore, William Eggleston, Alec Soth, Linda McCartney, Martin Parr, Raymon Depardon, David Bailey, and many others. I wasn’t familiar with Bernadette Mayer’s work until recently, but as soon as I discovered the concept behind Memory, I knew I had to have a copy in my library.

On the first of July 1971, Mayer shot a 35mm roll of Kodachrome, and kept a written journal about the day. She repeated this process every day and continued for one month, amassing a collection of over 1100 photographs with accompanying text.

When she embarked on the project, Mayer considered herself a neophyte in terms of photography, but from the first day, her work appears accomplished, has remarkable depth, and feels emotionally charged. Perhaps the subject matter inherently drives this. In 1971, she was shooting pictures of what were everyday places and sights to her, but fifty years later these resonate with nostalgia. Couple that with the dramatic saturated colours and heavy contrast typical of Kodachrome, and there’s a compelling combination.

There are a lot of photographs, and there is some repetition, but that multiplicity and verisimilitude gives them a powerful snapshot aesthetic, almost as if she just lifted the camera and didn’t care what appeared in the frame. The work itself is reminiscent of early Shore and Eggleston, but Mayer’s pictures feel more heartfelt and authentic. More raw.

The text is difficult at times. The first day in particular is almost impenetrable, written as a jumbled stream of consciousness without punctuation, containing repeated lines and motifs. The second is easier, but still challenging. Then we have the third day, which is a startling juxtaposition, a beautifully written and evocative account of the day before Independence Day, describing Mayer’s travels around New York City as she helps Ed record sounds on his Nagra tape recorder. The other days follow a similar pattern: some confused, some clear.

I would recommend Memory to anyone interested in photography and photobooks, and especially those who appreciate Stephen Shore’s American Surfaces or William Eggleston’s Guide. The vast majority of the images are a little small to fully enjoy, but the body of work as a whole is impressive and haunting.

[Sam · Rating 5 out of 5]

home at 6 immediately changed with less than 10 pages left of Memory kind of sad saying goodbye to a life changing book I'll never forget but will revisit maybe maybe not it was consuming I was Bernadette for a month for a week and a half for a bus ride and a train ride and a bus ride and a train ride always in motion mouthing a month mouthing a month in motion while sitting on a train or on a bus enjoying and puzzling and laughing and thinking and wondering and imagining and imaging and filling in the blanks and looking at the photos and reading the photos and looking at the words and rereading always rereading but sometimes the same words again reread but read anew I know now a little more of what she was thinking and how it came to her how how it came to her came back to her coming to me and then coming back to me some time after this everything but sex she said was in this book she captured everything nearly everything as much as everything can be somtimes but everything nonetheless and everything is people is words on menus and storefronts is travelling in cars is homes is trees is eating is waiting is boredom is always is now is then and then and then it changes everything always changes she worked hard to collect and recollect in a way that feels new every word every line even rereading every word can give you something new and she seems to feel the same she repeats herself breaks off goes away comes back never really leaves wants to leave by the end said writing it made her crazy for a spell must have been maddening could definitely make her feel crazy to shoot 36 photos a day and write and type and go around thinking but also collecting but also not collecting just being and documenting documenting a roving eye and a life inhabited a life within life networks of life living people a mind but more a sticky thing can capture sights and moments and names and foods and smells and lights lots of lights the sky for one and streetlights too lamps and chandeliers as well windows with displays and reflections a lot too much to say maybe too much to even review in the style of but amazing just amazing I loved it I can't say anymore without repeating myself

[Stephen Roberts · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read an entry a day for the month of July. It is basically a day's journaling, something like the Morning Pages in the Artist's Way, although apparently these were done at night. Stream of consciousness (mostly), with spelling mistakes kept, it is experimental writing and, like many experiments, is valuable more for the process than the result.

[jane bro]

Bernadette Mayer is associated with the Language poets, a school i have trouble engaging with in a deep way. But this book of journal documentary type poems paired with a collection of film photos is incredible. She wrote this at 26, & is a great archive of her living. Everyone should try this memory exercise.

[Ellen F · Rating 4 out of 5]

This project, of over 1,000 photos taken in July 1971, confirms my feeling that while many photographers strive for that single, perfect photo, there is room for a body of work where no single photo stands out but the whole is extraordinary.

[Rachel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Only read about half for a class I'm taking.

[Shrey · Rating 5 out of 5]

what can a diary be not a reconstruction, something put in, use the time, pass it, stain it, pass it, it’s stained, it’s magnified, it sticks in my mind—

[luise · Rating 5 out of 5]

toll toll toll

[Roni Royce · Rating 3 out of 5]

i wish i could give 2.5 stars instead of 3.
‘an emotional science project’ is correct. it can feel a little overly self indulgent at times but it’s still a really cool project

[Clara Martin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Read each day of July 1971 every day in July 2023