The Typewriter Project

Site Specific Literary Installation

Readings & Lecture Topics

  • The Subconscious of the City
  • Lecture by Nicholas Adamski & Stephanie Berger


“From a distance, the narrow wooden booth resembles a confessional.” – The New York Times

The Typewriter Project is a series of site-specific literary installations which invite passersby to join in a citywide poetic exchange that exists in both analog and digital realms.

The project is largely inspired by the idea of an Exquisite Corpse, a surrealist writing game in which several authors contribute to one poem. Each entry in The Typewriter Project can be its own distinct lyric, but ultimately the idea builds on the concept that users will also be influenced by what was written before them on the scroll. By creating a new and unique form of public dialogue, this project hopes to capture something of the sound, narrative, and nuance of specific corners of  cities, schools, and spaces all around the country and the world. The Typewriter Project’s mission is to investigate, document, and preserve the poetic subconscious of the city while providing a fun and interactive means for the public to engage with the written word.

These typewriter booths are each outfitted with a vintage typewriter, 100-foot long paper scroll, and a custom-built USB Typewriter™ kit, which allows every keystroke to be collected, stored, and posted online for users to read, share, and comment upon. The Typewriter Project, the brainchild of Stephanie Berger and Nicholas Adamski, is a program of The Poetry Society of New York.


Read the Full Text Here

The Typewriter Project — AWP 2018

White lights like train tracks on the night ceiling

All the poets in the halogen cavern might as well be stars

but that doesn’t matter

how would it? We couldn’t even hear the footsteps

moving through the hall

couldn’t hear anything but a low murmur

the sound of business maybe

or a low kind of communication

something hushed

self conscious

may the breezes heal you

i son’t really know what to say and just realized i made a typo

and not that she would say any less

my dear one the warrior class

r

and then she said “That’s ok, you are my best friend too

“I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you.”

“I still love you.”

you can feel the power dynamic in the room; cotton candied stained—

the stomached summers.

ain’t nobody wanna hear about anther white man’s struggle ya heard?

I’m talkin bout t h e w o m a n, ya heard?

walking down the design of a highway the words don’t listen

I went to the lake in Wisconsin with tony in his car that was black

my dad ate my dog

Ribbon oh Ribbon how many miles of ribbon did I type my BA my MA my MFA all on Underwood typewriters. Miles of ribbons thread through cosmos

oceans and black holes. Denise Low

oh so how i cant wait to be done

with the long goodnight

So just like that, everything had changed.

it wasn*t perfect and we knew it never would be, but it worked, and we worked, and that was enough.

Fofor you, but not for me, my mmoonliy girl, how sweet you are, how sweeweet you smell. If i could keep you, please know i would.

I would, i would, i would.

Aand so so i no one sshall stop me aas i venture proudlly into and So i Shall. Venturre proudly

Me and my baby owen are not

wasps

but our honey is xoxo

My name is Lake. My favorite food is pizza. Not pizza. I have lotaof favorite foods. I love sushi I also love crab. I love every thingthat comes from the sea. …. Heeello, my family… If anybody is reereaading this onli nine…

Hi, if somebody is reading this online, my name is Emerson.

Iif you touch a stalagmiite they are forever changed

but isnt that tru of everything?

I began. To settle into serioriousness, but just then a man in swampcostume walked by. There is no hope unlunless we open our souls to the sweet raian!

if youyour gl glassses drentched

then mine drippeingdripping-leaving aa rose-tinted trail in my wawakedripping – bbut dropping letting streaks of claarity shine throughughghand my dr. —- dear you look the same to me

whiskey stained and oppossum knowing my words so

i wonderr then, what kind of world tthis

could be for you and me

and what kind of world will it be when weare no longer in it

though the white world

crumbles

the earth knows their color

This is Zahraa Noorb akhsh. Youre welcome.

The typewriter is in herently an instrumento of brute forc e. It can. Hurt more than. Thee words them selves. Someti es, anyway.the force is an instrument inherent in brutalitybrutes are instrumental

for thought

and thiought is in residence with incidents of flutes

champagne champagne champagne champagne champagne

give me orchestras of chamgpagne

don’t speak to me of lutes

sing only with the brutes

listen only to the muteshearhear every word unsaid and then a lacunaea sudden disappearceand for ;once nothing els lof consequnuence for once, and

then something

don’t ask me why im obsessed.


Read What’s In Print

Reflections on the Typewriter Project – Book Riot

Listen to Audio