![]() ![]() Anything called art suddenly becomes art and people are afraid to voice an opinion. "Today's conceptual artists are interested in publicity, fame - and money also comes into it. Sparsely attended by a gaggle of well-heeled ladies and a couple of ragged students, it consists mostly of snippets of Dadaist poetry read in resonant received pronunciation by actor Peter Marinker interspersed with Calder's mumbled, fidgety monologues: "We are here to talk about art, about Dadaism and Surrealism," Calder begins. ![]() The event itself, readings from The Writings of Jean Arp, recently published by Calder, is equally eccentric. Where you might normally expect to see Man and Boy or White Teeth displayed are copies of Louis-Ferdinand Celine's Journey to the End of the Night, the collected works of Antonin Artaud and Inside Out and Other Plays by Jan Quackenbush. ![]() The shop itself is an anachronism, one of those tiny havens that once populated Charing Cross Road before the arrival of megamarts such as Waterstone's and Borders. In the shabby back room of John Calder's bookshop on The Cut in south London, an intriguing literary event is about to begin. ![]()
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