“…one of the best writers I've encountered, remaking the world sentence by immaculate sentence.”

– Olivia Laing, author of The Lonely City and The Trip to Echo Spring

“While his writing hasn’t been widely published, it has a significant impact on the community of artists, writers, and thinkers who are aware of it. Like Frank O’Hara, he is a critical thinker who creatively writes alongside artists, and he should be regarded as a peer to them.”

– Matt Wolf, director of Teenage and Wild Combination

“Beautifully constructed prose.”

– David Crowley, author of Warsaw and Cold War Modern: Design 1945-1970

“Original in approach, full of extensive research, written with style and wit… I even found echoes of Charles Olson in certain sentences.”

– Jeremy Millar, author of The Way Things Go and Place

I am a London-based a writer. I guess a lost writer. Meaning not so much that texts have been lost — certain ones have, maybe not enough — but rather that I keeping losing myself and that this becomes my practice. Clarice Lispector wrote getting lost means finding things without any idea of what to do with what you’re finding. So: parataxis, perhaps. Not summary. A joke. Not a quip. Rather, a maybe. Always maybes — while others may write within tacit quotation marks, I suppose I essay between invisible ellipses. And sway, and swish. I’d like to bring back swishiness, but in old corduroys abraded from working and walking. I’d like to write frayed seams. I digress. Ostensible subject matter includes ephemeral art praxis, slow cinema, ordinary clothing, wayward cities and the potential expansiveness of all these things. I studied at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) and the Royal College of Art (RCA). When I graduated from the former initialism, I didn’t know what to do, so I threw a cantaloupe against the wall. I still got cum laude. I went to the administration office to take care of the paperwork — I was finishing early — and a gentlemen told me that I should comb my hair. Instead I went to Europe where I wore it uncombed with a suit jacket. I met my love because he recognised the messy hair as a drawable thing. He drew it then, and now he takes pictures of the world bouncing off its shaven pate. But he’s more concerned with terraforming. His work involves bringing a lot of research into a situation of time and space. His art is fugacious but aren’t we all. Oh — contrary to present circumlocutions, I have previously worked in editing, proofreading and art direction. I lecture on the appropriation of workwear and palimpsestic urban histories and, perhaps to the chagrin of dissertation graders, the aleatory in research methodologies. I published the online journal Leaves from 2008-2016. I am currently at work on a three-part memoir built around formative guitar bands and mundane objects. Hopefully it reads like a complicated kind of easy. For writing samples, archival pieces, CV and other correspondence: jeremyathertonlin@gmail.com

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