March 6, 2013 at 11:59am
Some of you joined me one year ago for What Price Love?, an extended performance conducted over email.
Between March and November 2011, I had exchanged hundreds of emails with someone I was falling in love with, and who was falling in love with me (and who is no longer a part of my life).
I don’t know how else to measure the value of a love letter, or the time I spent on them and with them, without reading them again.
So I sent them again. To you.
You’ve already heard the news if you joined the performance the first time (and more on that in my essay at Rhizome): I’m re-performing What Price Love?, and all those who have a subscription, welcome back. You don’t need to subscribe again.
But if you didn’t get a chance to join me the first time, I’m opening up the performance again for new subscribers, until 5pm EST on Thursday, March 7th.
And then the performance begins again on March 8th.
See you in your inbox.
May 16, 2012 at 2:20pm
This is going to be about love letters, and a little bit about money.
I wrote an essay about What Price Love? (my subscription-based love letter publication that also doubles as a durational performance, or, my actual love letters, as written to one actual person, emailed to you over six months). Rhizome, one of the longest-running net.art sites, published it earlier this month. It’s the best way I could describe this whole thing, opening up my inbox to you (who are mostly strangers).
On May 21st, I’ll close What Price Love? to new subscriptions.
We’re now about a third of the way through the letters. And I don’t want anyone to feel as if they missed out. (For those of you already reading, it will also allow me to catch you up. I’d like you to be able to read what you might not have yet. Stay near, I’ll disclose that once this part is settled, and we’re all in, etc.)
If you want to know what’s happened so far, start with the essay. And if you want to join, here is how you can subscribe before midnight May 21st.
March 15, 2012 at 8:41pm
I’m charmed by and wrestling with inquiries from subscribers to What Price Love? who want the back catalogue. No one knows just where they came in (in the course of the correspondence), and even those who subscribed in time to receive the first email don’t believe they have and write to ask to get the rest.
Something about: the assumption of missing out, the desire for a complete run, the whole story.
My work space for this is the web-interface of a group email application. It is the least romantic place to lay out a love letter.
I do lay them out. I pull a few up at a time, preserve the formatting, make it look convincing, proofing them (I mean for machine readability—I leave in typos, if I made any). Reading them over the few times I do in the process makes me see them with the sheen that a paper letter gets after you’ve folded and unfolded it from your pockets or a book a lot.
I don’t read ahead by more than a few days in real-time. I’ll be in San Francisco at the end of the month, so I decided to take myself at least as far as two days after my return back to New York from that trip. I don’t want to miss a day’s mail. I know just what it will be, or I could, but I don’t remember as much as I was sure I did.
Autostraddle wrote something very tender about the project, called For Anyone Who Likes Sex, Feelings, Love Letters, Books, All Of The Above.
March 10, 2012 at 12:26pm
The first two What Price Love? letters are out. The third is on its way soon. I don’t have an answer as to how, if, or when I will make an archive.