Through this Friday, all available back issues of Wholphin are half off—10 bucks apiece for countless warm evenings of rare films, featuring Miranda July, Paul Rudd, Donald Trump, and a monkey-faced eel. - - - - |
[In late July, The New Sins (Los Pecados Nuevos), a new book by David Byrne, will become available. This week we have been presenting, in four parts, David Byrne's account of the birth of the book, up through its recent debut at the Valencia Biennal. This is the fourth and final part. READ PART I. - - - - PART IV: Valencia Ho An initial small shipment of books went to Valencia immediately after printing, and arrived the day after the Biennial opened. Not bad, for all the confusion. I arrived the next day, after my concert in Barcelona. I missed the opening in Valencia the previous night, so I didn't meet the Queen of Spain. Her reactions to the opening were duly reported in the Spanish press. "Interesting" and "quite nice" were some of her comments. There was also mention of a scandal at the performance during the opening festivities. It seemed the Catalan avant performance group Fura del Baus, as part of their show, invited the public to send text messages on their mobile phones, which would then be projected onto the side of a building, during the opening festivities. The resulting deluge of short bits of text was outrageous, profane and unprintable in the local paper. Most were simply obscenities, but many many more were scandalous comments regarding the attending dignitaries: "Señora so and so, where is your husband tonight?" was one message, reflecting the common knowledge of an affair that had not been reported in the press. Many red faces and a moment of national shame ensued, as the beastly nature of the Valencia public showed itself. Not to mention the eerie overlap with the Biennial's theme: "The Passions — Vices and Virtues." The morning I arrived I was met by Sally Jo, the Anglo-Saxon organizational expert. But instead of a sparkling and efficient businesswoman, she was a disheveled looking English girl, with the appearance of someone who just rolled out of a sleeping bag at a British rock festival. She did not have a copy of the book. She had not seen it. Copies were rumored to be at Dolores' office — who was a contact person there — but, as everywhere in Spain, Dolores and her officemates are on their 4-hour (2-6 PM!) lunch break, and everything is closed. Sally Jo tells me where they are having lunch, I trot on over, but no one in that neighborhood has ever heard of the place. When the exhibition re-opens I meet some of the curators and organizers. I finally see the book. I look at it quickly while someone is talking in my ear. They love the book — as do I, to be honest — and they are giving every copy they have away to visitors to the main exhibition. On my earlier trip to Valencia I had been taken to a restaurant next to a nude beach. It was an outdoor seafood place on the outskirts of town, and a row of huge boulders separates the naked bathers from those having lunch. Every now and then a curious older man would get up and peek over the tops of the boulders, as if to assess the progress. On that same trip I was invited to partake in a local specialty — rat paella. I wasn't sure if I was hearing right, but the guy said, "Yes, my uncle makes it on his farm, it's delicious, and the rats are not city rats, you know, they're country rats, they eat only vegetables." Uh huh. This time Antonio, a local artist whose work was also in the Biennial, took some others and me to a small joint where the owner claimed to be the King Of Anchovies. It was just a little bar, but the anchovies were good — but not as good as their dried grilled octopus. Antonio also took us to another place that has the best horchata in town... which is thicker and richer than the Mexican variety. The curator, Achille, as in Achilles heel, seemed to like the book. I was pleased. I was also informed that Achille "invented" a couple of art movements. I think something might have gotten lost in the translation, but he's a major guy in any case. So, now that it's over, what do I think? Having done this book, I can say that I have met my inner madman, and he is us. For my whole life I have attempted to make works that hover in a zone between the high and the low, the known and the unknown, the quotidian and the extraordinary. I love to make art that doesn't announce itself as art — and that, of course, includes pop music. I somehow feel the lack of mediation, when work is out of the artworld, literaryworld or any similar fancified context, allows the work to be more affecting, more engaged. And more confusing, vexing and beautiful. And, although God don't like a bragger, I think this book does it better than almost anything I've ever done. That is the happy ending. And seeing people cross themselves when they meet me. DB - - - - If you are a media person and would like to interview Mr. Byrne about his book, email us at byrnebook@mcsweeneys.net. In the subject header, please write BYRNE INTERVIEW. If you are a reviewer or writer about books and would like a review copy of this David Byrne book, email us at julie@mcsweeneys.net.
OTHER McSWEENEY'S STORIES:
Why I Had to Make This Book, Part III By David Byrne Why I Had to Make This Book, Part II By David Byrne Why I Had to Make This Book, Part I By David Byrne Announcing: Neal Pollack's Timothy McSweeney's Festival of Literature, Theater, and Music Some Things That Have Gone Wrong With My Techno-Thriller By J.M. Martinez |
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