Omg. It's real.
I’d like to invite you to join Naive Yearly: room for the quiet, odd and poetic web. The inaugural edition takes place in Copenhagen, at the National Film School of Denmark. We meet on Friday, August 11th, when the sunflowers bloom: it is Aphrodite’s day, the Greek goddess of love, lust and beauty, and the day that bridges the days of work with rest.
We’ll gather people who expand what the web is and can be. Artists, designers, educators, developers, writers and organizers who avoid nostalgia and technological utopias but use the internet and open protocols to invite us to see the world anew in the present tense. As such, it is an extension of this newsletter and a day of the art of living.
It is my wish to foster an atmosphere that steers us like a gentle river, away from abstraction and into the wild sea with our pockets full of sunflower seeds, the Ukrainian national flower, cursed to follow the sun with their heads because the nymph Clytie fell in love with Apollo.
When the sun sets, we party at SPACE10, and when the leaves turn red and yellow, the talks are published in partnership with Are.na. This conference is my biggest commitment to the poetic web yet, and I would not have been able to make it possible without the trust, collaboration and curiosity from numerous friends and strangers. Thank you.
Ambient Garden is a composition in space.
End City refreshes pixelated castles.
Door is an adorable three minutes game.
The online publications bridging poetry and code
I can’t emphasize how happy I am to see an article about the new wave of digital literary magazines in Frieze, the leading contemporary art publication. Please click and read, again and again, to nudge the editors to include more posts about interactive work. The author is Meg Miller, one of my all-time favourite writers about the internet, and I still can’t fully believe that she will join us in Copenhagen for naive yearly to adapt the talks into posts for the Are.na blog.
Last month, the second issue of the html review launched with a new design and contributors list. Expressive, hand coded pieces – such as Chia Amisola’s fill-in-the-form concrete poem and Katherine Yang’s build-your-own-poem interface (both 2023) – continue to break the templated monotony of an internet that has become less intimate and human as it grows more complex and financialized. — Meg Miller
Such a poetic meandering on doors, keys and passageways by Heman Chong. If you enjoy it as much as I do, remember to check out the other contributions in the latest edition of Shift Space.
No Doors, No Windows is a collection of short stories by Harlan Ellison, published by Pyramid Books in 1975. Ellison is best known for his short story “I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream,” for which he won the Hugo Award in 1968. It is absolutely one of the cruelest things I’ve ever read, and the worst depiction of hell I’ve ever read. Go read it! — Heman Chong
Online archive of English translations of Internationale Situationniste
If you want to contribute to Naive Yearly in any form. Please write me at firstname.lastname@example.org. I’m looking for volunteers, partners and surprises.
Last week this letter was sent to 1519 inboxes. I’m keeping it donation-based and it will always be free for everyone. Currently, thirty-two people support me with a paid subscription. Logo by Studio Hollywood. Photograph by Ana Šantl.
Thank you to Bikubenfonden for the financial support to make room for the quiet, odd and poetic web. Thank you to Tine, Sus and Ene for shaping the vision and opening the doors to the National Film School of Denmark. Thank you to Ben and Studio Hollywood for the poetic identity. Thank you Cab and Meg for the wildest dream of an editorial partnership with Are.na. Thank you Kaave and the SPACE10 for hosting the open after-party. Thank you Laurel, Chia, Ben, Elliott, Maya, Alice, Tiana and Marty for traveling to Copenhagen to gift your work and voice. Thank you to you who read these words, your presence is felt and encouraging, and thank you Ana and Uno for the life we live, it brings tears to my eyes to think about how fortunate I am.