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Pierre Menard animated Saturday, February 13 his first writing workshop as part of the writer's residence supported by the Ile-de- France proposes that for ten months at the bookstore. He made work in good humor and creative energy, a dozen enthusiastic participants Leadership Centre Château-Landon starting from the work of Thomas Clerc : Paris, Musée du XXI Century: The Tenth Borough , Thomas Clerc, Gallimard, Collection "The Crossbow", 2007.



Braiding in a hybrid form of writing, the study objective, documented, and personal considerations or autobiographical (the latter not being included in the margins of the study but in his actual conduct ), to describe a neighborhood, city by adopting the arbitrary order of the alphabet but undeniable. It must indeed renew approaches and modes of perception of the city by offering to stroll and wander to a reading, more than discontinuous linear.

Presentation of Text:

In this book, Thomas Clerc decided to walk to and fro the tenth arrondissement of Paris through its 155 streets, squares, docks, squares, cities, streets, gardens, boulevards, blind alleys and passages, by adopting the arbitrary order of the alphabet but undeniable, from the street to the City of Abbeville Vauxhall. He offered to take a stroll and a reading vagabond, more than discontinuous linear city. A portrait of the neighborhood between the confession, dreams, ethnographic, political, economic and, of course, history also includes a reflection on the "museumification" of the capital.

Preview:

"I leave the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Martin (1885 x 20 m), my center of gravity. On the front of I, appears in metal letters HEALTH CENTER. A traveling back and he is transformed into a "merchant of clothing for children." Like neon on the walls of a gallery, the words glow in vacuum, cut off from their reference. Contact: I accosted a customer leaves the store. He did not notice anything special. Trap: if a medical laboratory files for bankruptcy, its results are they still reliable? The negative became vice versa. Setup: I observe under its protection the elegant Porte Saint-Martin, which itself is not an illusion, but an arch with 3 branches on base. Monument minor, she is troubled by no effects of wear. At night, illuminated by spotlights, it reaches even the beauty of the second part. The relief set out the historical figures in helpless spectators, facing the constant mobility of pedestrians cars and anonymous heroes of Louis XIV nobody's as if they had been cheated by the glory. Theory: boredom generated by the monuments is their universal character, which anchors them in a definitive and freezes for eternity in the status of "big thing". Although there are annoying people like monuments, the human face seems always more meaningful and affect the "old stones". The monuments are extinct volcanoes. This boredom is dissipated by the grace of a performance, film or photograph, which revives the masses of the sleeping city, and transforms them into fiction documentaries. Rebaptism : The Porte Saint-Martin, my column of Hercules. Method: I take the sidewalk right up to Stalingrad, I'll take the left one for down. At 3, with "AT THE DOOR ST MARTIN" adorns a grotesque unfinished. In a noble district, we would have finished the work of embellishment, I pursue them and m'intronise Vindicator boroughs. Synesthesia: the flow auto sets the mood visual, sound and smell of the suburb. 2 cars can barely fit on the floor, restricted by a bus lane. From the first step, the reign of textile wholesalers asserted with brutality. The art of brands and logograms, branding, all the rage street capitalist names - Yony Boy, Halogen, Star Kids - sometimes spiced with a pun (word tone), boast the style profane their business. As bad books are distinguished themselves by their titles, the impersonal goods became public. The name Thursday afternoon, alone, adds some depth to the infancy of the garment. Numérophilie: 3 bus from the street (38 + 39 + 47), added together, give 124. At 5, a shop dares to present the public with no name, its owner did not even bother to baptize a trade which he sees as mere means to achieve. The goods displayed in bulk jackets for children, called implicit anonymous junk. "

The full text is available at Liminal Pierre Menard .

Further reading on the topic on the blog During the weekend , the report on the writing workshop of Pierre Menard by Peter Cohen Hadria and blog Dominica Hasselmann , night falls on the Boulevard Saint-Martin and one remembers Book Thomas Clerc :

Boulevard Saint-Martin, the night ended up falling (half)
Boulevard St. Martin, the night eventually fell (2 / 2)

Go Saturday, March 13 at 14h. Center at Chateau Landon for a new writing workshop with Pierre Menard.
Information and reservations at the library: 01 44 65 90 04

Safari Themed Sayings

at every step the first step, even if you fall
you get up, sun, rain, rattling fingers
on a keyboard and abandoned the book, taken
What are you looking for that you'll never be able to find
you find but still not knowing
and a lifetime at this game, won or lost
lost and won, with each day hoping
to stop the day, vertigo hopeless
where blind once more you do that again

Jacques Ancet, identity obscure

You have to start putting a word to each other as we walk, move forward in the light of day without necessarily knowing where you're going, because The world needs to start somewhere, in a city or a book, no attempt so maybe because there is nothing to find, it does not return to the origin in this movement outdated nostalgia , as we move randomly plunged into darkness for a piece that we are not so foreign, just different and changing every moment, I'm not only me, who am I again, or what? a word, a sentence that everything starts, one step before the other, moving toward you without knowing who we are, without even knowing who is there, sometimes we wonder if we will eventually get there, even if a specific purpose encourages us to go on, I look, I do see nothing but some vague signs, advance, make that very moment, the first steps, first words, the engine later in the tracks which register is a good start, there is nothing of known, nothing pre-existing, not hypothetical start receding as we always try to reach it, you just open your eyes, the world revolves around us, the world and its incessant rumor vibrates in us resonates in our heads, our every word, including gestures, to listen in advancing the transition from one word to another, as defined in the direction of travel, something we call, challenges us and forces us perhaps, something we want to dominate and there, yet we do not know, I'm in what I can not say, I am but I do not see it, to see him try to forget, memories blind, he should always be between, enter this motion, time still, tell, tell it something it is not trying to say but want to do and this is the intention of who wants what you said the unknown that we can talk, I do not know, I guess, what I dream, what I say, forgetful of every step, the glare of the words, it will So here.

text written by Pierre Menard , which we accept as part of a residence writer of the Ile-de-France , and presents her text: Start like that under the project waterbed : The first Friday of the month, each written on the blog of another burden to prepare each of marriages, trade, invitations. Horizontal movement to produce other links ... Do not write, but writing in another.