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“Kitchell is a channel for the erotic possibilities of place.” – Edward Mullany
“Take the most disconcerting moments of all the
weirdest movies you ever saw, subtract from them the comforts of
narrative and character, cut and paste them into weird, oblique
combinations … and then realise that you are watching yourself
masturbating alone, in someone else’s house. Kitchell’s weirdness is
insidious and queasy, both intimate and incomprehensibly far from home.
Language and architecture are the spaces we inhabit and are contained
in, and whose familiarity renders them banal. With an insatiable
appetite for the impossible, these writings burrow and bore their way
into these spaces, exposing the festering, pullulating chambers where
desire unfolds itself into limitless sentient labyrinths of raw pink
experience. Kitchell uses theory to do everything that theory wanted to
get away from, and forcibly prevents poetry from going where it would
like to go. Both lived and abstract, his writings vibrate with their own
ferocious impotence, and the infinite powers it releases.” – Robin Mackay
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