Mar 12, 2017
WOUNDED GALAXIES 1968: Beneath the Paving Stones, the Beach Festival + Symposium Feb 8-10, 2018 Indiana University Call for Papers The Sixties were a turbulent period, characterized by major revo…
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WOUNDED GALAXIES 1968: Beneath the Paving Stones, the Beach Festival + Symposium Feb 8-10, 2018 Indiana University Call for Papers The Sixties were a turbulent period, characterized by major revo…
Announcing a Call for Papers for Wounded Galaxies 1968: Beneath the Paving Stones, the Beach, an interdisciplinary symposium on the revolutionary events of Spring 1968. The conference will be accompanied by a festival, including a wide array of film screenings, concerts and various other performances, readings, speakers, and other events.
Watch this space for regular updates on keynote speakers, performers, and other announcements.
Check out the new trailer for Wounded Galaxies: Festival of Experimental Media! Music by Grey Frequency!
Wounded Galaxies Festival Pass The success of The Burroughs Century Festival in February 2014 inspired this annual festival in the Midwest devoted to media that push the boundaries of the possible. This is not a film festival or a music festival, but a festival in which all forms of media are cut-up and recombined. A festival at the juncture of sci-fi, magic, and the radical deconstruction of all media forms.
Buy Tickets: BCT Box Office (Buskirk-Chumley Theater)
Visual description of the song "Snails and Lasers for Patricia Highsmith" by Matmos.
Matmos will be opening for Cyclobe at the Wounded Galaxies Festival in Bloomington, Indiana, October 9, 2015.
Pry Yourself Loose And Listen
I was traveling with The Intolerable Kid on The Nova Lark - We were on the nod after a rumble in The Crab Galaxy involving this two-way time stock; when you come to the end of a biologic film just run it back and start over - Nobody knows the difference - Like nobody there before the film. So they start to run it back and the projector blew up and we lammed out of there on the blast - Holed up in those cool blue mountains the liquid air in our spines listening to a little high-fi junk note fixes you right to metal and you nod out a thousand years. Just sitting there in a slate house wrapped in orange flesh robes, the blue mist drifting around us when we get the call - And as soon as I set foot on Podunk earth I can smell it that burnt metal reek of nova.
— W. S. Burroughs, Nova Express
