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'In 1770, Wolfgang von Kempelen stood in front of Empress Maria Theresa at her court in Vienna and proclaimed to have built a mechanical man that could beat humans at chess. The mechanical man - or 'the Turk', as von Kempelen named him - was life-sized, carved from maple-wood, dressed in ornate robes and a turban, and sat behind a large cabinet, on top of which was a chess set. Von Kempelen opened the cabinet to reveal a labyrinth of levers, cogs and clockwork machinery. He then closed the cabinet, inserted a large key, wound it up, and after some ticking and whirring the Turk lifted its head, studied the board, took hold of a white pawn and moved it forward two places. News of the Turk spread, and chess masters from across the empire travelled for their opportunity to play the machine; they usually returned home defeated. For the next few decades the Turk toured Europe and America, trouncing some of the most formidable minds of the time - Catherine the Great, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon. Legend has it that Napoleon tested the Turk by making illegal moves, but the Turk grew fed up, and swiped the board.' (Publication abstract)
Publication Details of Only Known VersionEarliest 2 Known Versions of
Works about this Work
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Ghost Flowers in the Word Machine : Poetry, Pessimism and Translation in the Age of Technology
2018
single work
criticism
— Appears in: Cordite Poetry Review , 1 February no. 84 2018;'I once read that the word ikebana (生け花), denoting the Japanese art of flower arrangement, can be roughly translated into English as ‘living flower,’ or ‘bringing life to the flowers.’ This summary sounds too easy, too graceful; there is an air of internet mythology to it, the truth of it smoothed and polished like a well-handled stone until it becomes convenient, small enough to tweet or swallow. I don’t know Japanese, and even if I did, I doubt whether my clumsy English renderings would do any more justice to the words’ original elegance: to the 生 rooted in life, meaning raw, growing, being born – to the bloom of the 花 recalling cherry blossoms, paper petals, grass. But somehow, despite my ignorance or because of it, I find joy in the deconstruction of the word, in the Googling of its kanji, the deciphering, the re-making. The word ikebana is a little poem, and I am its fumbling, ill-equipped translator.' (Introduction)
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Ghost Flowers in the Word Machine : Poetry, Pessimism and Translation in the Age of Technology
2018
single work
criticism
— Appears in: Cordite Poetry Review , 1 February no. 84 2018;'I once read that the word ikebana (生け花), denoting the Japanese art of flower arrangement, can be roughly translated into English as ‘living flower,’ or ‘bringing life to the flowers.’ This summary sounds too easy, too graceful; there is an air of internet mythology to it, the truth of it smoothed and polished like a well-handled stone until it becomes convenient, small enough to tweet or swallow. I don’t know Japanese, and even if I did, I doubt whether my clumsy English renderings would do any more justice to the words’ original elegance: to the 生 rooted in life, meaning raw, growing, being born – to the bloom of the 花 recalling cherry blossoms, paper petals, grass. But somehow, despite my ignorance or because of it, I find joy in the deconstruction of the word, in the Googling of its kanji, the deciphering, the re-making. The word ikebana is a little poem, and I am its fumbling, ill-equipped translator.' (Introduction)
