Two passages from Tell Them I Said No by Martin Herbert:
*
“She quit solo shows at the age of forty, the point when, in recent decades, many artists’ profiles have dipped because they’re somewhat familiar, not the new kid on the block, exploring variation rather than innovation. The art world likes hot young artists and it likes reviving older ones after a few decades in the wilderness, but it doesn’t, as a rule, favor artists between about the ages of forty and sixty. Cady Noland, though, pointedly ceased production at the top of her game, which had the effect of ensuring a scarcity market for what she had already made.”
*
“Concerning those who don’t leave, what one longs for – or what this writer, who sees too many exhibitions that are blatantly products of the studio treadmill, which circularly pay for the assistants and the fair-booth acreage, longs for – is some tactical thinking. No artist needs to undertake a half-dozen solo shows per year, plus fairs, plus a continual side salad of group shows. Artists who do this, given the unassailable fact that most of them are not modern-day Picassos, will in most cases burn out and deliver diminishing returns in the meantime. One wishes, however vainly – one writes, at least in part, to accrue useful examples of such – for artists to make statements when necessary and be silent when not. We have no shortage of art, or of galleries, and, as Mark Twain once said, 'No word was ever as effective as a rightly timed pause.'”
*
November 7, 2025
November 4, 2025
"men are reading less and less"
.
"According to a recent article in the New York Times, men are reading less and less. Yet fiction is one of life's greatest pleasures. Why not rediscover the joy of reading with this novel by a Canadian author?"
Wondering how my book made it into 15 idées cadeaux pour tous les hommes sur votre liste in French Elle. "From retro gadgets to stylish apparel, these undeniably cool gifts are sure to delight." EDIT: I just realized it is also in the English version 15 Gift Ideas For Every Man On Your List. (Which makes the entire thing only slightly less strange.)
"According to a recent article in the New York Times, men are reading less and less. Yet fiction is one of life's greatest pleasures. Why not rediscover the joy of reading with this novel by a Canadian author?"
Wondering how my book made it into 15 idées cadeaux pour tous les hommes sur votre liste in French Elle. "From retro gadgets to stylish apparel, these undeniably cool gifts are sure to delight." EDIT: I just realized it is also in the English version 15 Gift Ideas For Every Man On Your List. (Which makes the entire thing only slightly less strange.)
November 1, 2025
Cut passage from Faithful Unbeliever
.
The beginning could also be the end. The idea of a lost masterpiece was of course alluring. But was there one? Did it actually exist? Perhaps the rumour was the work. Setting up the rumour was the masterpiece in and of itself. I didn’t know. No one knew. This is not that story. That story was only a tale I was following from afar. Yet everything is connected.
This rumour was mainly pursued by experts in the field. Some of these experts recounted inexplicable occurrences. Such as discovering a scan in a particular archive, feeling it to be a major discovery, but upon returning to the archive later the same day no longer being able to find it. From memory they parsed what they could from their short time spent examining it. A story about a soldier who, when ordered to fire at the enemy, instead turns around and shoots his commanding officer dead. A clear act of treason followed by the other soldiers spontaneously bursting into applause.
Did that archival scan actually disappear? Was it a fiction? A hallucination? A boast? A poem? A good story you might tell at a cocktail party?
The feeling that something has been lost. That people used to know something we no longer seem to know. A parallel or mirror feeling to the anxiety there might not be much of a future. A past that existed yet feels unknown and a future that might not exist and therefore feels equally unknown. To imagine that someone broke into the archive and stole the scan. To hide something. To cover their tracks. To create a mystery. To whittle down the available evidence. Or for no reason at all.
Anyone can say that something was there but now it’s gone. Anyone can say they found a clue which later left them clueless. There are probably only twenty or thirty people in the entire world who are intensely interested in this topic. I am not one of them. More of a casual observer. Occasionally observing from afar. Years go by when I don’t think about it at all and then something happens. As if someone had taken my life, turned it upside down, given it a good shake, and what fell out is a reminder of this questionably lost masterpiece.
For reasons we already know, this was a time of general mourning. (Every time is a time of general mourning.) So many people I knew continued to pretend everything was okay. With such people it was as if we didn’t even have a shared language. I spoke a language of general mourning and they spoke a language of everything being okay. I continuously wondered if they really thought everything was okay or were only pretending. It is unlikely we will ever have a shared language. But it can nonetheless happen for brief moments in certain, specific situations.
This is a story about certain specific events. Events that happen all the time. How I tell you about these events will determine how you understand them. This is my basic understanding of narration. I will try to change your mind at the same time as you’re trying to change mine. If you strongly disagree, if you throw this book across the room in protest, to my mind that is also a valid reading. Even indifference is valid. I used to read every single book I picked up from beginning to end. That was a different time. Now I often abandon books halfway through. I no longer want to know what happens. What happens is often less interesting than what I imagine. And what happens in my life is often less interesting than what I desire.
During the final game of the world cup, the star player decides to score on his own team’s goal as an act of treason. The crowd is stunned, dead quiet. In less than a split second he is no longer a star. Another thing about this time, I was thinking a great deal about conversion experiences. I wanted something along those lines for myself and I wanted to trigger something similar in others. Often what you want to do, or what you think you’re doing, is not what you’re actually doing. You’re doing something else. That something else might be what you actually want to do, rather than what you think you want to do. But these two possibilities need not be in opposition. One of my goals, in short, was to bring them closer together. Was this the goal of my team or did it belong to the opposing one? I can never stop thinking about that hypothetical soldier who turned around and shot his own commanding officer. An example as compelling as it is rare. You only have a split second to succeed. If you miss you’re already dead.
A fragment, even the rumour of a fragment, makes you wonder: what were the other things that once surrounded it.
There are conversion experiences that concern religion. I suspect these are the ones we hear about most often. But what I want to think about is not that, since we’ve heard about such things way too often and, more importantly, I believe there are also conversion experiences that concern art, politics, other things as well. Thinking one’s political or artistic convictions are one way, and then you have an encounter or experience that, quite suddenly, shifts them toward something completely different. I now find myself thinking of such conversion experiences as some kind of mini-utopia. Utopia reflecting a desire for the world to change and these personal experiences being evidence that an individual’s sense of purpose and action can shift – more, and more quickly, than one might at first suspect. Such conversion experiences can of course also set off domino effects, where each person changes the next. But can this phenomenon ever really be said to lead to human flourishing? It has potential, yet also seems to fall short. I worry that writing about it so positively neglects the aspects that most resemble joining a cult.
*
(In my current in-progress trilogy - Dry Your Tears to Perfect Your Aim, Desire Without Expectation, Faithful Unbeliever - all three books are based loosely around questions concerning the desire for utopia.)
.
The beginning could also be the end. The idea of a lost masterpiece was of course alluring. But was there one? Did it actually exist? Perhaps the rumour was the work. Setting up the rumour was the masterpiece in and of itself. I didn’t know. No one knew. This is not that story. That story was only a tale I was following from afar. Yet everything is connected.
This rumour was mainly pursued by experts in the field. Some of these experts recounted inexplicable occurrences. Such as discovering a scan in a particular archive, feeling it to be a major discovery, but upon returning to the archive later the same day no longer being able to find it. From memory they parsed what they could from their short time spent examining it. A story about a soldier who, when ordered to fire at the enemy, instead turns around and shoots his commanding officer dead. A clear act of treason followed by the other soldiers spontaneously bursting into applause.
Did that archival scan actually disappear? Was it a fiction? A hallucination? A boast? A poem? A good story you might tell at a cocktail party?
The feeling that something has been lost. That people used to know something we no longer seem to know. A parallel or mirror feeling to the anxiety there might not be much of a future. A past that existed yet feels unknown and a future that might not exist and therefore feels equally unknown. To imagine that someone broke into the archive and stole the scan. To hide something. To cover their tracks. To create a mystery. To whittle down the available evidence. Or for no reason at all.
Anyone can say that something was there but now it’s gone. Anyone can say they found a clue which later left them clueless. There are probably only twenty or thirty people in the entire world who are intensely interested in this topic. I am not one of them. More of a casual observer. Occasionally observing from afar. Years go by when I don’t think about it at all and then something happens. As if someone had taken my life, turned it upside down, given it a good shake, and what fell out is a reminder of this questionably lost masterpiece.
For reasons we already know, this was a time of general mourning. (Every time is a time of general mourning.) So many people I knew continued to pretend everything was okay. With such people it was as if we didn’t even have a shared language. I spoke a language of general mourning and they spoke a language of everything being okay. I continuously wondered if they really thought everything was okay or were only pretending. It is unlikely we will ever have a shared language. But it can nonetheless happen for brief moments in certain, specific situations.
This is a story about certain specific events. Events that happen all the time. How I tell you about these events will determine how you understand them. This is my basic understanding of narration. I will try to change your mind at the same time as you’re trying to change mine. If you strongly disagree, if you throw this book across the room in protest, to my mind that is also a valid reading. Even indifference is valid. I used to read every single book I picked up from beginning to end. That was a different time. Now I often abandon books halfway through. I no longer want to know what happens. What happens is often less interesting than what I imagine. And what happens in my life is often less interesting than what I desire.
During the final game of the world cup, the star player decides to score on his own team’s goal as an act of treason. The crowd is stunned, dead quiet. In less than a split second he is no longer a star. Another thing about this time, I was thinking a great deal about conversion experiences. I wanted something along those lines for myself and I wanted to trigger something similar in others. Often what you want to do, or what you think you’re doing, is not what you’re actually doing. You’re doing something else. That something else might be what you actually want to do, rather than what you think you want to do. But these two possibilities need not be in opposition. One of my goals, in short, was to bring them closer together. Was this the goal of my team or did it belong to the opposing one? I can never stop thinking about that hypothetical soldier who turned around and shot his own commanding officer. An example as compelling as it is rare. You only have a split second to succeed. If you miss you’re already dead.
A fragment, even the rumour of a fragment, makes you wonder: what were the other things that once surrounded it.
There are conversion experiences that concern religion. I suspect these are the ones we hear about most often. But what I want to think about is not that, since we’ve heard about such things way too often and, more importantly, I believe there are also conversion experiences that concern art, politics, other things as well. Thinking one’s political or artistic convictions are one way, and then you have an encounter or experience that, quite suddenly, shifts them toward something completely different. I now find myself thinking of such conversion experiences as some kind of mini-utopia. Utopia reflecting a desire for the world to change and these personal experiences being evidence that an individual’s sense of purpose and action can shift – more, and more quickly, than one might at first suspect. Such conversion experiences can of course also set off domino effects, where each person changes the next. But can this phenomenon ever really be said to lead to human flourishing? It has potential, yet also seems to fall short. I worry that writing about it so positively neglects the aspects that most resemble joining a cult.
*
(In my current in-progress trilogy - Dry Your Tears to Perfect Your Aim, Desire Without Expectation, Faithful Unbeliever - all three books are based loosely around questions concerning the desire for utopia.)
.
October 31, 2025
Another page from the novel-in-progress Grand Meeting of Failures
.
The reason art movements were prevalent during the twentieth century is because political movements were prevalent during the same period. Communism, Socialism, Anarchism, Fascism (and in a different way Capitalism and Libertarianism) each had millions of passionate, organized followers who often reformatted their lives around collective practices for bringing their chosen ideology into greater prominence. A battle as to how society should best be organized. Many of the same people who were organizing politically were also organizing artistically. Or knew the people who were organizing artistically. Avantgarde artistic forms were made and fought for in relation to avantgarde political formations. To get out ahead of current artistic practices, and to get out ahead of current political limitations, took place parallel to one another and intertwined. The removal of the Berlin Wall is often seen as a kind of marker, both in time and in relation to tail end of an ideological shift. A moment when capitalism won the so-called Cold War, and Communism was no longer generally seen as a viable option. And, it seems to me, art movements suffered a similar defeat.
At the same time, I have absolutely no belief in that way of framing these events. The former Soviet Union was never Communism, or at least wasn’t from the moment Stalin took control. And Capitalism won using only dirty tricks. The dirty trick of assassinating or overthrowing any leaders who didn’t tow the line and the dirty trick of giving certain people temporary “democratic freedoms” in order to dissuade them from amassing enough collective power toward Socialism and Communism, and then removing those freedoms when they were no longer required. Don’t go over to Socialism or Communism, they said, because we have these “democratic freedoms” that make our society so much better than any other, when such freedoms were only part of a temporary propaganda campaign for Capitalism that was never meant to last. Of course, it is Capitalism that is now in decline – perhaps a victim of its own success with no other world system to keep it in check. Unfortunately, Capitalism is now rapidly being replaced by Technofeudalism, or hopefully something better if we can summon the collective political will. Art movements might return if radical politics also returns. If we can once again believe in its possibilities. Those possibilities were once based in the idea of progress, and since progress is a lie, we will need to find another basis. Things do not progress, they go in circles like the seasons. These were all thoughts and questions I had sitting in the back corner of that very large bar, watching all the people who had absolutely no interest in any plans we might be hatching. And our disagreements were also connected to an underlying agreement that something had to be done. Yet we were always arguing about the what, the approach, the strategy, the tactics. Everything was like being up against impossible odds, where the house always wins. We were trying to convince each other to fight for something. We were trying to measure how much solidarity we might spark. How much we could trust and count on one another. It was extremely unclear what our art movement might become.
.
The reason art movements were prevalent during the twentieth century is because political movements were prevalent during the same period. Communism, Socialism, Anarchism, Fascism (and in a different way Capitalism and Libertarianism) each had millions of passionate, organized followers who often reformatted their lives around collective practices for bringing their chosen ideology into greater prominence. A battle as to how society should best be organized. Many of the same people who were organizing politically were also organizing artistically. Or knew the people who were organizing artistically. Avantgarde artistic forms were made and fought for in relation to avantgarde political formations. To get out ahead of current artistic practices, and to get out ahead of current political limitations, took place parallel to one another and intertwined. The removal of the Berlin Wall is often seen as a kind of marker, both in time and in relation to tail end of an ideological shift. A moment when capitalism won the so-called Cold War, and Communism was no longer generally seen as a viable option. And, it seems to me, art movements suffered a similar defeat.
At the same time, I have absolutely no belief in that way of framing these events. The former Soviet Union was never Communism, or at least wasn’t from the moment Stalin took control. And Capitalism won using only dirty tricks. The dirty trick of assassinating or overthrowing any leaders who didn’t tow the line and the dirty trick of giving certain people temporary “democratic freedoms” in order to dissuade them from amassing enough collective power toward Socialism and Communism, and then removing those freedoms when they were no longer required. Don’t go over to Socialism or Communism, they said, because we have these “democratic freedoms” that make our society so much better than any other, when such freedoms were only part of a temporary propaganda campaign for Capitalism that was never meant to last. Of course, it is Capitalism that is now in decline – perhaps a victim of its own success with no other world system to keep it in check. Unfortunately, Capitalism is now rapidly being replaced by Technofeudalism, or hopefully something better if we can summon the collective political will. Art movements might return if radical politics also returns. If we can once again believe in its possibilities. Those possibilities were once based in the idea of progress, and since progress is a lie, we will need to find another basis. Things do not progress, they go in circles like the seasons. These were all thoughts and questions I had sitting in the back corner of that very large bar, watching all the people who had absolutely no interest in any plans we might be hatching. And our disagreements were also connected to an underlying agreement that something had to be done. Yet we were always arguing about the what, the approach, the strategy, the tactics. Everything was like being up against impossible odds, where the house always wins. We were trying to convince each other to fight for something. We were trying to measure how much solidarity we might spark. How much we could trust and count on one another. It was extremely unclear what our art movement might become.
.
October 28, 2025
Coastal Lines Press
.
"Coastal Lines Press is a collective of writers in Gaza. Our goal is to turn words into life-saving supplies for our families. We thank the global network of creators and distributors who make this fundraising publication possible. Like vessels at sea, our zines travel from coast to coast, drawing lines of human connection and solidarity. Follow their journeys and our stories."
More info here: https://www.coastallinespress.com
.
"Coastal Lines Press is a collective of writers in Gaza. Our goal is to turn words into life-saving supplies for our families. We thank the global network of creators and distributors who make this fundraising publication possible. Like vessels at sea, our zines travel from coast to coast, drawing lines of human connection and solidarity. Follow their journeys and our stories."
More info here: https://www.coastallinespress.com
.
October 24, 2025
working title
.
I may or may not have started a new novel today. Possible working title: Grand Meeting of Failures
Possible opening paragraph: "I decided I would be the historian of the movement. No one gave me permission, it was something I had to decide for myself. That is, if there even was a movement. If it didn’t all just fizzle out. The rumor was that if the Night Manager likes your work, you don’t need to pay your tab. The rumor that started it all. We might imagine how. One of us had been drinking and when it comes time to pay they’re told they don’t have to. They inquire about the reason, are told some work they made was deeply moving to the Night Manager. Then it happens again, this time to a different artist. Word begins to spread. It might be seen as a form of curation. A way for artists most cherished to keep coming back. Musicians, performers, writers, image and object makers, filmmakers, and those of no fixed discipline. Most of the clientele continue to pay for their drinks, subsidizing a small number of artists who are no longer asked to. The place is large. A few hundred who pay each night and a few dozen who do not. It doesn’t take long to find each other. We gather in the back corner. Soon many of us are coming four or five nights a week. This was all before I arrived. I am repeating pure hearsay. But it was also around the same time I arrived. Somebody mentioned this back corner to me and I immediately knew I had to check it out. I introduced myself to the first likely candidate and soon into our conversation it occurred to me to ask if anyone was keeping a record. When the answer was no, I heard their reticence as an invitation."
Another sentence for somewhere later in the book: "I’ve always imagined an ongoing game where the purpose is to try to invent an art movement."
*
[I'm still working on my third trilogy (with all three books based loosely around questions concerning the desire for utopia.) So if I manage to keep going with this Grand Meeting of Failures, I suppose it would be book number ten, which for some reason feels significant to me. But often there are a lot of false starts before I find one I want to continue with. So let's see...]
.
I may or may not have started a new novel today. Possible working title: Grand Meeting of Failures
Possible opening paragraph: "I decided I would be the historian of the movement. No one gave me permission, it was something I had to decide for myself. That is, if there even was a movement. If it didn’t all just fizzle out. The rumor was that if the Night Manager likes your work, you don’t need to pay your tab. The rumor that started it all. We might imagine how. One of us had been drinking and when it comes time to pay they’re told they don’t have to. They inquire about the reason, are told some work they made was deeply moving to the Night Manager. Then it happens again, this time to a different artist. Word begins to spread. It might be seen as a form of curation. A way for artists most cherished to keep coming back. Musicians, performers, writers, image and object makers, filmmakers, and those of no fixed discipline. Most of the clientele continue to pay for their drinks, subsidizing a small number of artists who are no longer asked to. The place is large. A few hundred who pay each night and a few dozen who do not. It doesn’t take long to find each other. We gather in the back corner. Soon many of us are coming four or five nights a week. This was all before I arrived. I am repeating pure hearsay. But it was also around the same time I arrived. Somebody mentioned this back corner to me and I immediately knew I had to check it out. I introduced myself to the first likely candidate and soon into our conversation it occurred to me to ask if anyone was keeping a record. When the answer was no, I heard their reticence as an invitation."
Another sentence for somewhere later in the book: "I’ve always imagined an ongoing game where the purpose is to try to invent an art movement."
*
[I'm still working on my third trilogy (with all three books based loosely around questions concerning the desire for utopia.) So if I manage to keep going with this Grand Meeting of Failures, I suppose it would be book number ten, which for some reason feels significant to me. But often there are a lot of false starts before I find one I want to continue with. So let's see...]
.
October 13, 2025
Boycott of the Bronfman Fellowship in Contemporary Art
.
We, MFAs Against Genocide, are a collective of recent and prospective graduates in the Montreal arts community and are reaching out to you as you are a signatory to PACBI. As a collective, we are organizing an institutional and individual boycott of the Stephen and Claudine Bronfman Fellowship in Contemporary Art Fellowship. We are asking for your support in order to increase our pressure, and to call on artists, cultural workers, academics, and institutions to refuse together to be complicit in artwashing.
The fellowship, which is awarded annually to Concordia and UQAM studio arts graduate students, is funded by Claridge Inc; Stephen Bronfman's Montreal-based private equity firm that, in 2015, opened a parallel firm in Tel Aviv focused on Israeli tech investments. These investments include Cyberbit, a a cyber security, warfare, and espionage company that lists the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) as one of their key clients. Claridge Isreal is also invested in D-fend Solutions, which provides counter-drone technology to clients including the Israeli ministry of defense and the United States departments of War and Homeland Security. In August of this year La Caisse de Dépôt et Placement du Québec announced that it is in the process of selling off its investments (valued between $400M - $600M CAD) in Claridge Israel; we believe it is long past time for our institutions to do the same and divest from the Isreali occupation and genocide. For more information about the award, the campaign, and our demands, please see our website: https://mfasagainstgenocide.cargo.site/
We, MFAs Against Genocide, are a collective of recent and prospective graduates in the Montreal arts community and are reaching out to you as you are a signatory to PACBI. As a collective, we are organizing an institutional and individual boycott of the Stephen and Claudine Bronfman Fellowship in Contemporary Art Fellowship. We are asking for your support in order to increase our pressure, and to call on artists, cultural workers, academics, and institutions to refuse together to be complicit in artwashing.
The fellowship, which is awarded annually to Concordia and UQAM studio arts graduate students, is funded by Claridge Inc; Stephen Bronfman's Montreal-based private equity firm that, in 2015, opened a parallel firm in Tel Aviv focused on Israeli tech investments. These investments include Cyberbit, a a cyber security, warfare, and espionage company that lists the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) as one of their key clients. Claridge Isreal is also invested in D-fend Solutions, which provides counter-drone technology to clients including the Israeli ministry of defense and the United States departments of War and Homeland Security. In August of this year La Caisse de Dépôt et Placement du Québec announced that it is in the process of selling off its investments (valued between $400M - $600M CAD) in Claridge Israel; we believe it is long past time for our institutions to do the same and divest from the Isreali occupation and genocide. For more information about the award, the campaign, and our demands, please see our website: https://mfasagainstgenocide.cargo.site/
October 6, 2025
the art that strikingly knows it’s own futility
.
"Where is the art that strikingly knows it’s own futility but stumbles forward compellingly, anyway, because as an artist you have no choice?"
(From my 2011 manifesto: Manifesto for Confusion, Struggle and Conflicted Feelings.)
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"Where is the art that strikingly knows it’s own futility but stumbles forward compellingly, anyway, because as an artist you have no choice?"
(From my 2011 manifesto: Manifesto for Confusion, Struggle and Conflicted Feelings.)
.
October 1, 2025
Some favourite records of my 2025 (so far)
.
Back in July I did a list of Some favourite books of my 2025 (so far). It occurs to me now that, around the same time, I could have also done a list of Some favourite records of my 2025. So this is coming a bit late (and a bit too close to my end of year list.) But I'm doing it now because Bandcamp Friday is in two days (Oct 3rd), so you might want to support some of these amazing artists. (Also, as is my habit, some of these records didn't come out during 2025.)
Moses Sumney – Sophcore
Adrián de Alfonso – Viator
Quinton Barnes – Code Noir
Quinton Barnes – Black Noise
Elle Barbara’s Black Space – Word on the Street
Nourished By Time – The Passionate Ones
DJ K – Radio Libertadora !
Pink Siifu – BLACK’!ANTIQUE
Qur'an Shaheed – Pulse
Destroyer – Dan’s Boogie
Frog Eyes – The Open Up
Fievel Is Glauque – Rong Weicknes
.
Back in July I did a list of Some favourite books of my 2025 (so far). It occurs to me now that, around the same time, I could have also done a list of Some favourite records of my 2025. So this is coming a bit late (and a bit too close to my end of year list.) But I'm doing it now because Bandcamp Friday is in two days (Oct 3rd), so you might want to support some of these amazing artists. (Also, as is my habit, some of these records didn't come out during 2025.)
Moses Sumney – Sophcore
Adrián de Alfonso – Viator
Quinton Barnes – Code Noir
Quinton Barnes – Black Noise
Elle Barbara’s Black Space – Word on the Street
Nourished By Time – The Passionate Ones
DJ K – Radio Libertadora !
Pink Siifu – BLACK’!ANTIQUE
Qur'an Shaheed – Pulse
Destroyer – Dan’s Boogie
Frog Eyes – The Open Up
Fievel Is Glauque – Rong Weicknes
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September 27, 2025
listening
.
For a lot of the past year or two, I've mostly been listening to the same four records by Jeff Parker over and over again: The New Breed, Suite for Max Brown, Forfolks and The Way Out of Easy.
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For a lot of the past year or two, I've mostly been listening to the same four records by Jeff Parker over and over again: The New Breed, Suite for Max Brown, Forfolks and The Way Out of Easy.
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