Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Speed Destruction Noise War: Futurist Manifestos 1909-15
    Speed Destruction Noise War: Futurist Manifestos 1909-15
    Speed Destruction Noise War: Futurist Manifestos 1909-15
    Ebook94 pages1 hour

    Speed Destruction Noise War: Futurist Manifestos 1909-15

    By F.T. Marinetti and Luigi Russolo

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Founded in 1909 by the Italian writer Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, Futurism was a radical art and social movement that glorified modernistic concepts of speed, destruction, noise, machines, cities and war. Marinetti's obsession with the future even extended to the abolition of libraries and museums, which he demanded be burned to the ground in a vortex of incendiary violence. Over 100 years later, Futurism stands as a key conceptual movement of the 20th century, one whose ideas are still ominously relevant in the age of rampant technological progress, suicide bombers and unmanned drone strikes. This special ebook volume in the Radical Manifesto series collects nine of the most challenging manifestos of the early Futurist Movement, from Marinetti's founding charter and subsequent calls to war to the seminal noise theories and machine music blueprints of Luigi Russolo and Balilla Pratella. It also contains as a bonus the first manifesto of Russian Futurism, written by Vladimir Mayakovsky and others.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherElektron Ebooks
    Release dateMar 4, 2015
    ISBN9781908694935
    Speed Destruction Noise War: Futurist Manifestos 1909-15

    Related to Speed Destruction Noise War

    Related ebooks

    Art For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Art And The Album Cover

      Apr 29, 2022

      Art And The Album Cover
      4 min read

    • Article

      Beyond Surreal

      Feb 18, 2022

      Beyond Surreal
      5 min read

    • Article

      Bad Students, Gudskuls

      May 11, 2022

      Bad Students, Gudskuls
      5 min read

    • Article

      Hook, Line And Sinker

      Oct 18, 2018

      Hook, Line And Sinker
      4 min read

    • Article

      The Devil’s Dictionary

      Jul 6, 2021

      Select entries from Ambrose Bierce’s lexicon of cynicism, bitterness, and humor, produced over a 30-year period beginning in 1881. APOLOGIZE, v.i. To lay the foundation for a future offence. BARD, n. A person who makes rhymes. The word is one of the

      4 min read

    • Article

      In Search of Lost Travels

      Jun 4, 2018

      In Search of Lost Travels
      9 min read

    • Article

      This Is Not a Defense of Poetry

      Mar 30, 2017

      The following remarks were originally delivered at the the Oslo Poesifestival 2016. A defense of poetry is a contradiction in terms. The honor to speak this evening, which I accept with great humility, though inevitably unnerving, I will use to cont

      12 min read

    • Article

      Jan Morris

      Jun 15, 2018

      I have always rather envied the poet Ovid, who was banished from Rome by the emperor Augustus, you may remember, to a remote place called Tomis on the shores of the Black Sea. There he died, ten years later, and his exile has gone into legend and int

      17 min read

    • Article

      Michael Wood On…

      May 12, 2022

      Watching with horror the destruction of Mariupol in Ukraine – the obliteration of a city of more than 400,000 people – my mind went to other cities, other times. More than 30 years ago, in the aftermath of the war with Iran, I went to southern Iraq,

      3 min read

    • Article

      A Year in Reading: Il’ja Rákoš

      Dec 14, 2019

      I, like you, definitely don’t need to be made more susceptible to the predations of the truly sinister agents of corruption that are at work all around us. The post A Year in Reading: Il’ja Rákoš appeared first on The Millions.

      5 min read

    • Article

      Francis Spufford Vividly Recreates an 18th-Century New York in ‘Golden Hill’

      Jul 26, 2018

      Dear Reader, envision that Village which grew upon the southern strand of that isle of Manhattoes: a Lenape settlement purchased for 60 guilders and named for Amsterdam, later to be acquired by gunships of King James, and her wooden-legged governor r

      7 min read

    • Article

      Spellcheck

      Jan 1, 2019

      Whose history I do not know. I do know I’ve been e-upbraided for my fast and loose spelling of Woden, the god whose last worshipper must have slipped under the sod during the medieval period, somewhere in the 10th century—imagine those bog-soaked des

      5 min read

    • Article

      The Season Of Lamentation

      Mar 23, 2022

      EVERY month for the past six months, my friend Guy and I have been taking a band of pilgrims through the streets of London, starting from All Hallows by the Tower to end with Evensong at Westminster Abbey. Guy sings and I talk about Trojan kings and

      2 min read

    • Article

      The World Beneath Our Feet

      Sep 1, 2020

      The World Beneath Our Feet
      8 min read

    • Article

      Commonplace Book

      Jun 1, 2022

      Try to praise the mutilated world. Remember June’s long days, and wild strawberries, drops of rosé wine. The nettles that methodically overgrow the abandoned homesteads of exiles. —Adam Zagajewski, “Try to Praise the Mutilated World,” tr. by Clare C

      4 min read

    • Article

      Tripping the Late Capitalist Sublime

      Jan 28, 2022

      If our religion is capitalism, then our theology is consumerism and our God is the Invisible Hand. Our prayers are "Have it Your Way," "Think Different," and "Just Do It;" our avatars are Ronald McDonald, Mr. Peanut, and the Kool-Aid Man The post Tri

      18 min read

    • Article

      Two Poems

      Jul 1, 2022

      We know that the people loved beautiful things.From their earliest kind they were fools for shineand order: necklaces strung with tiny seashells,amulets of amethyst and chalcedony. The peopleloved tall buildings with many gleaming windows;from these

      2 min read

    • Article

      Mary Shelley And Mourning As An Essential Act Of Apocalypse

      Feb 28, 2018

      1. Little cloud-white lambs wobble over the leas and paddocks, nibbling clover under a wooly sky. Ladies and lords and mustachioed manservants converse through the halls of castles. The subjects and soldiers in the hay fields out past the battlements

      5 min read

    • Article

      Hello Darkness My Old Friend

      Jun 17, 2020

      Hello Darkness My Old Friend
      4 min read

    • Article

      Time Makes Ruins Of Us All

      Sep 20, 2023

      Time Makes Ruins Of Us All
      6 min read

    • Article

      The Week In Theatre: The Walk; Wuthering Heights – Review

      Oct 31, 2021

      In Arabic, Amal means “hope”. And hope is embodied in each step of The Walk, the journey across Europe, begun in July, made by the three-and-a-half metre-tall puppet called Little Amal. By the time she arrives in Manchester on 3 November, she will ha

      3 min read

    • Article

      Orlando Spirit Of The Age

      Jun 11, 2019

      Orlando Spirit Of The Age
      5 min read

    • Article

      Five Poems

      Jan 1, 2022

      The painting is of a door, its wood so warpedwith moisture it cannot close. It stays ajar leaving a sliver of light—enough to suggestsomething sweet and almost unreachable behind the door—and you sit in yourroom working on the bills or those comforti

      4 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Speed Destruction Noise War

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      Speed Destruction Noise War - F.T. Marinetti

      credits

      SPEED DESTRUCTION NOISE WAR

      BY F.T. MARINETTI & OTHERS

      AN EBOOK

      ISBN 978-1-908694-93-5

      PUBLISHED BY ELEKTRON EBOOKS

      COPYRIGHT 2013 ELEKTRON EBOOKS

      www.elektron-ebooks.com

      No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a database or retrieval system, posted on any internet site, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright holders. Any such copyright infringement of this publication may result in civil prosecution

      FOREWORD

      Founded in 1909 by the Italian writer Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, Futurism was a radical art and social movement that glorified modernistic concepts of speed, destruction, noise, machines, cities and war. Marinetti’s obsession with the future even extended to the abolition of libraries and museums, which he demanded be burned to the ground in a vortex of incendiary violence.

      Over 100 years later, Futurism stands as a key conceptual movement of the 20th century, one whose ideas are still relevant in the age of rampant technological progress, suicide bombers and unmanned drone strikes.

      This special ebook volume in the Radical Manifesto series collects nine of the most challenging manifestos of the early Futurist Movement, from Marinetti’s founding charter and subsequent calls to war to the seminal noise theories and machine music blueprints of Luigi Russolo and Balilla Pratella. It also contains as a bonus the first manifesto of Russian Futurism, written by Vladimir Mayakovsky and others.

      1: F. T. MARINETTI

      THE FIRST AND FOUNDING MANIFESTO OF FUTURISM

      (February 20 1909)

      We had been up all night, my friends and I, beneath mosque lamps whose brass domes burned as bright as our souls, because like them they were illuminated by the internal radiance of electric hearts. And trampling underfoot our atavistic ennui on opulent oriental carpets, we had held discussions that pushed at the outer limits of logic and scrawled our demented writings over countless reams of paper.

      Our hearts were filled with an immense pride at feeling ourselves standing quite alone, like lighthouses or like the sentinels in an outpost, facing the army of enemy stars encamped in their celestial trenches. Alone with the stokers in the infernal fireholes of great ships, alone with the black spectres which rage in the belly of rogue locomotives, alone with the drunkards beating their broken wings against the city walls.

      Then we were suddenly distracted by the rumbling of huge double-decker trams that went blurring by, streaked with light like villages celebrating occult festivals, which the Po in flood suddenly demolishes and uproots, and, in the rapids and cataracts of a deluge, drags down to the entombing sea.

      Then the silence deepened. As we listened to the last faint prayer of the old canal and the crumbling bones of the moribund palaces with their green damp beards, automobiles suddenly roared voraciously beneath our windows.

      Come, my friends! I cried. Let’s go! At last Mythology and the mystic cult of the Ideal have been left behind. We are going to be present at the birth of the Centaur, and we shall soon see the first Angels fly! We must assail the very gates of life to test the bolts and the padlocks! Let’s go! Here is the very first sunrise on earth! Nothing equals the splendour of its red sword, striking for the first time through our millennial darkness.

      We went up to the three snorting beast-machines to caress their fiery breasts. I lay along mine like a corpse on its bier, but revived at once beneath the steering wheel – a guillotine blade which threatened me with evisceration.

      A raging sweep of madness jolted us sharply out of ourselves and drove us through the streets, steep and deep, like dried-up torrents. Here and there, sickly lamps in the windows taught us to despise the mutinous mathematics of our eyes. Smell, I exclaimed, smell alone is good enough for wild beasts!

      And like young lions we hunted Death with its black fur stained with pale crosses, fleeing before us in the vast, violet, living, throbbing sky.

      And yet we had no ideal Mistress stretching her divine form up to the clouds, nor yet a cruel Queen to whom we might offer our corpses, twisted like Byzantine rings! No reason to die unless it were the desire to be rid of the punishing weight of our courage!

      We raced on, crushing watchdogs beneath our burning wheels like shirt-collars under a steam-iron. Death, tamed, met me at every corner, proffering a tender paw or sometimes lying prostrate with a noise of grinding jaws, throwing me velvet glances from the bottom of oil-slicks.

      ‘Let’s crack open good sense like a hideous husk and hurl ourselves, like fruit spiced with pride, into the immense, contorted mouth of the wind! Let’s feed ourselves to the Unknown, not from despair, but simply to replenish the unfathomable reservoirs of the Absurd!"

      As soon as I had said these words, I spun back sharply on my tracks with the rabid frenzy of a dog biting its tail, and suddenly there were two cyclists tottering in front of me, disapprovingly, like two equally persuasive but contradictory arguments. Their stupid dilemma was blocking my way.

      What a bore! Pouah! I slammed up short in disgust and propelled myself wheels over heels into a ditch.

      Oh, maternal ditch, half full of putrid water! A beautiful factory gutter! I savoured a mouthful of nourishing filth, which recalled the black teat of my Sudanese nurse. As I raised my body – mud-splattered, torn and stinking – I felt the white-hot poker of joy deliriously pierce my heart!

      A crowd of fishermen and gout-stricken naturalists were swarming in terror around this marvel. With patient, loving care they raised up enormous grappling irons to fish out my car, like a vast beached shark. It rose slowly from the ditch, leaving behind like scales its heavy coachwork of good sense and its soft upholstery of

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1