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Kaleem Hawa

Kaleem Hawa has written about art, film, and literature for the New York Review of Books, The Nation, and Artforum, among others.



Articles Available Online


Hating it Lush: On Tel Aviv

Essay

May 2023

Kaleem Hawa

Essay

May 2023

I   They made the desert bloom, tall sparkling towers and clean Bauhaus lines, and apple-ring acacias, and teal blue shuttle buses, and stock...

Poetry

Issue No. 28

Three poems from issue 28

Sarah Barnsley

Valzhyna Mort

Kaleem Hawa

Poetry

Issue No. 28

Valzhyna Mort, ‘Music for Girl’s Voice and Bison’   Sarah Barnsley, ‘Virginia Woolf Has Fallen Over’   Kaleem Hawa,...

In his foreword to A Thousand Plateaus, on the pleasures of philosophy, and of Deleuze and Guattari’s philosophy in particular, Brian Massumi writes:   [A] plateau is reached when circumstances combine to bring an activity to a pitch of intensity that is not automatically dissipated in a climax The heightening of energies is sustained long enough to leave a kind of afterimage of its dynamism that can be reactivated or injected into other activities, creating a fabric of intensive states between which any number of connecting routes could exist   The trick to reading Mille Plateaux is that you can drop in anywhere and read for a while; though ideas accumulate and diversify across its pages, the book doesn’t require a chronological or teleological reading experience   Maria Gainza’s is-it-a-novel Optic Nerve can also be read either way The book is comprised of discrete, self-contained chapters that resemble short stories, or essays There is no plot, only narrative, only motifs If you were to read Optic Nerve start to finish, you would observe how skilfully Gainza braids together the narrator’s musings on life, the self, family, friends, and, above all, art But once you’ve read it straightforwardly, I recommend going back and reading it unstraightforwardly You could dip in anywhere and still get something out of it Like Mille Plateaux, it is a root-book   The narrator, Maria, is an Argentinian art historian (she shares a name and an occupation with her author), and much of the text is given over to her ruminations on art and the preoccupations of artists that drove them to make the work they did The work she considers is mostly pre-twentieth-century, with the exception of Mark Rothko, and mainly to be found in the museums of Buenos Aires, as the narrator is afraid of flying (‘Buenos Aires, they say, only has second-rate work: great artists, yes, but none of their great works’) The person who really knows how to look at art doesn’t need to look at the acclaimed works; she can find the masterpiece in

Contributor

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa

Contributor

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa has written about art, film, and literature for the New York Review of Books, The Nation, and...

after Mahmoud Darwish    Why is a boy an exclamation,  and why are his dead a period?,  why do his sinews tighten when he sees  a Palestinian body? Does his vision narrow  because of their flight,  or because their world is raining with salt?  Why is a boy with a gun different  from a boy with a jail cell?,  if the tools of rupture are our arms for  repurposing the body, and the arms of  the state are our means of repurposing the male,  are we finally useful and breathing and nervous…?  Does the white mean Night’s arrival?,  or does night signal the white’s escape?,  and when that white city boy becomes  a White City man,  does the hate in his heart subside?,  or does it become an ellipses,  a Bauhaus history of stories started  and left unfinished 
You Arrive at A White Checkpoint and Emerge Unscathed

Prize Entry

November 2019

Kaleem Hawa


READ NEXT

poetry

July 2012

Poem for the Sightless Man (After Kate Clanchy)

Abigail Nelson

poetry

July 2012

This is just to say,   that the inked glasses that you wear look like the sound of shop...

feature

Issue No. 15

Translation in the First Person

Kate Briggs

feature

Issue No. 15

IT IS 1 JUNE 2015 and I am standing outside no. 11 rue Servandoni in Paris’s sixth arrondissement. I...

fiction

Issue No. 2

The Surrealist Section of the Harry Ransom Center

Diego Trelles Paz

TR. Janet Hendrickson

fiction

Issue No. 2

To Enrique Fierro and Ida Vitale—   Just like you, muchachos, I didn’t believe in ghosts, and if I’d...

 

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