“‘Tuya’ means ‘graffiti’ in Chinese—the name is recent—and this street, three-quarters of a mile long, may be the longest stretch of public art in the world. It’s also a government-sanctioned ‘art district,’ centered around the Sichuan Fine Arts Institute, which was established in 1940…I noticed that every artist I spoke to referred to 2005 as the year everything changed. 2005 was the year the government became interested in art.” Art in Chongqing.
“Summer morning is risen / and to even it wends / and still I’m in prison / without any friends.” Start your Monday off right with this piece from The Paris Review on John Clare, Christopher Smart, and the poetry of the asylum. Speaking of the madhouse, here’s a piece on Anne Sexton and her book Transformations.
“When I was 16 years old, some of my brothers and sisters and cousins [were] going down to the public library trying to get public library cards, and we were told the library was for whites only, not for coloreds. To come here and receive this award this honor is too much. Thank you.” Representative John Lewis upon receiving the National Book Award for volume three of his graphic memoir March, which documents Lewis’s role in the civil rights movement.
“As much as I claimed that I read for my own edification, it was a lie. The books I was most drawn to were those that were loved by someone in my life. Reading them, I thought, would teach me all I needed to know about them—nice and safe, from a distance. Reading them with one hand, it was easy to have the other keep them at arm’s length.” Romy Sugden writes for The Oyster Review about trying to connect with her estranged father by reading John le Carré‘s A Perfect Spy.