Jace Brittain

[De-Con-Struc] Sorcererer // Jace Brittain

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Text: Sorcererer

Author: Jace Brittain

Publisher: Schism Press

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Sorcererer Sorcerer Sorcerer Sorcererer

Sorcerer Sorcerer Sorcererer Sorcererer Sorcerererer Sorcererer

Sorcerer Sorcerer Sorcerer Sorcerer Sorcererer Sorcererer

Sorcerer Sorcererer Sorcererer Sorcererer Sorcererer Sorcerer

Sorcerererer Sorcererer Sorcerer Sorcererer Sorcerererer

Sorcererer vs Sorcerererer?

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Sorcererer is not a word but is now a word.

Sorcerererer.

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Will this type of malapropopism carry on into the main text?

Neologism?

It has to signal something. Surely. If Der ri da were at the helm, it’d degenerate into a thousand variations on the word pine, it would be the point in totality, but from what I’ve seen of Jace’s work, he won’t go that root.

[It’ll be ellusive in a different way].

By his work, I’m referring to the Pit and the Pendulum piece he did for Film dada[da]. Which played with language and form, and was painful to format on WordPress, but didn’t lose me at any point.

I’m wondering if this one will.

Even with my new-coached tactic of just letting experimental text absorb me, not forcing myself to look for meaning…there has to be something to keep my brain from saying huh?

Or in Jace’s case, what does that word mean?

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The Pit And The Pendulum // Jace Brittain

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NO ONE WILL EVER ENTER THIS ROOM AGAIN

After Roger Corman & Stuart

Gordon’s adaptations of The Pit and

the Pendulum (1961/1991)

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The colors spill as if from a wound,

bright paints leaching into the dark

frame (itself unnervingly liquid).

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Starring Vincent Price / And                                            Vincent Price And / Barbara

Steele / And Barbara Steele                            One Laughs / While the Other Screams

One Screams / While the Other Eats         A Painting of the Scenery / And Whispers

Your wifemother’s Name / Playing        Your husbandfather’s Name / Harpsicordly

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Roger Corman’s opening credits

announce not blood but a sensory

wound: vision infected and

transformed by trauma. A job of the

credits, to define the external

boundaries of the film’s fiction, is

undercut: these colors become the

tints of the characters dark fantasies

and dreams: purple, red, blue, and

yellow floods which overtake these

visions as the characters recount or

relive them. The boundaries of the

frame run, drip, mix, projected onto a

white sheet.   

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