She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
— To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.
— Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17–28)
The speed of time’s arrow—against the wind-down of entropy—increases towards stage left. Can it find its mark? Meh. It’s not a good metaphor to encapsulate the flow of the temporal within the imagination of mind. Maybe tomorrow I’ll come up with a better one.
14 September 1944, Thursday afternoon: In the evening, without having heard or read the reports herself, Eva came home with the [contents of] the latest bulletins: In the German military bulletin: English attack on Aachen; in the English one: in the course of the attack on Trier, the German frontier crossed on a 22-mile front. A new offensive is also said to be under way in the East. — The fact that the enemy is on German soil will make a tremendous impression. … In the cellar, Neumark had an old copy of the DAZ, which he had found by chance and which included a page summarizing the events of 1943.
In February 1943, the fall of Stalingrad; in the spring, the Führer holds discussions with the King of Bulgaria, with Antonescu—Count Ciano is appointed Italian ambassador to the Vatican… What an impression it all made on us! Ciano shot, Bulgaria and Romania changing sides, Stalingrad as remote as a fairy tale… But something else made a greater impression on us—it was the same for both Neumark and myself: the impotence of memory to fix all that we had so painfully experienced in time.
When—insofar as we remembered it at all—had this or that happened, when had it been? Only a few facts stick in the mind, dates not at all. One is overwhelmed by the present, time is not divided up, everything is infinitely long ago, everything is infinitely long in coming; there is no yesterday, no tomorrow, only an eternity. And that is yet another reason one knows nothing of the history one has experienced: The sense of time has been abolished; one is at once too blunted and too overexcited, one is crammed full of the present. The chain of disappointments also unfolded in front of me again.
[…] Ever since Stalingrad, since the beginning of ’43 therefore, I have been waiting for the end. I remember asking Eva at the time: Do you think it is a defeat, or do you consider it to be the defeat, the catastrophe? That was in February ’43. Then I had not yet done any factory duty. After that, I was a factory slave for fourteen months. And now it is almost three months since I was released, three months in which I find it ever more difficult to wrest useful work from my so-called free days.
Thoughts unreel, leading nowhere in particular: parrots leading monkey-brain. So many sketches started—more than one hundred drafts in the ‘pending’ zone—while lacking the embodied discipline and focus to finish any. Blah, blah, blah.
My situation is moving rapidly towards a major change, assuming I can manage, and that is the main focus of a very blurry existence. Blurred by fractured attention, internal and external stressors: societal instability, monetary insecurity, psycho-spiritual transience, mortality, inexorable cosmological flow, etc.
Reflecting on the four-year tenure here in rural western Colorado, the “Western Slope” as it is called, being on the west side of the main range of the Rocky Mountains. It’s been a mixed experience. Initiated in the depths of a bad cancer prognosis, it had a harsh essence from the beginning. Three of the past four years was spent, primarily, working full-time/remote for the CGS. Two of those years were with the most miserable excuse of a boss, the former State Geologist. With new management, the final 16 months were far better, but the profusion of way too many responsibilities simply burned me out. After a disturbing interaction with one of my colleagues—one whose work was an essential support element to mine—who had confided to me that he wasn’t going to do anything at work unless forced to, I decided to pull the plug with just three weeks notice. Precipitous, yes, but somehow necessary, given how life-time was/is slipping away at a rate that continues to disturb tranquil thought every day. It was a bit surprising how easy it was to ‘retire,’ and how quickly the job vanished in the rear-view mirror. How all that time spent since 2016 evaporated almost without a trace. I did leave the highly organized legacy in the form of their information/dataspace, built with my life-energy. That along with putting in place workflows that guaranteed—to the degree possible at my level of responsibility—the highest quality of their public-facing information.
“So what?” Richard Pryor asks.
The other focus of attention was to the house and the 13.5 acre property, the land. Once I left the job, the countdown started on the retreat from this place, first back to Arizona, and thence back to Iceland/Europe. All along, since I bought the property here, I’d spend hours each week day, many more on weekends, working on clearing up something or other. Cutting and collecting dead wood, pruning trees, moving rocks, weed-whacking, clearing defunct fencing, encouraging re-wilding, selectively reinforcing aging out-buildings and root cellar, removing vast amounts of detritus from same, improving the water drainage situation, setting up a large composting system, and re-doing the house interior and exterior to some degree (roofing, kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom especially). I have made a couple thousand images from the property, but rarely explicit before-and-after images, there is some evidence of the improvements. The main goal was to stabilize the physical infrastructures and fix things that bothered me or obstructed optimal enjoyment and operation of the facilities. This became, cumulatively, the dominant creative act. In retrospect, I could have done more careful documentation and explication here on the blog, following my efforts, but there wasn’t the will. If nothing else, the move from Golden saved me from paying $50K in rent over the years. I do have a potential buyer.
I do watch the sky here. With a 360-degree panorama (the property has few trees) and a view up to a hundred miles (the San Juan Mountains to the south, the Uncompaghre Uplift to the southwest, Hells Kitchen directly west, and Grand Mesa to the north), there is always much to contemplate in the sky. And aside from a paranoid neighbor from Southern California who recently installed a ridiculously bright night light on his garage, the area is known for its dark skies. This will be the greatest adjustment, as my place in Arizona is deep in the ponderosas. I’ll have to wait for Iceland to ponder and enjoy big skies again.
The economic demands of this particular period of existence, from 2016 until now, have impacted life in ways that confirmed my long-standing perspective on the pursuit of money—as Blake expressed in Laocoön—“Where any view of Money exists, Art cannot be carried on, but War only.” Formal creative pursuits were sporadic, and amounted to little more than recording fragments of life along the way, this blog being the only public venue aside from aporee::maps and participation in a few international streaming projects.
Contemplating my next situation includes mulling the question of how the physical dislocation and change will go down. The next temporary physical landing place is known, but far away, and the inertia of being here is now exceedingly large as precipitated by time and age. That and TOO MUCH STUFF. The Archive weighs heavily on mind, and, once moving, on body. In a cosmos that is transitory at all scales, the attempt to stop entropic decay is almost completely pointless. And through aging, The Archive becomes something of a retroactive creative crutch where delving into it is a poor substitute for actively creating *now*. At the same time it presses down heavily with the message that there is enough stuff in the world: no need or reason to make more. Best to simply live and spend time with Others instead.
Stay tuned. Oh, but wait, there will be stiff competition for eyeballs here, what with the ongoing socio-political conflagration about to receive another corpulent splash of gasoline… Sigh. I’d advise dropping social media.
Long life is one of the greatest Blessings that we Mortals can enjoy; it being what all Men naturally desire and wish for. Nay, when Men are come to the longest Date, they desire yet to live a little longer. But, however, Health is that which sweetens all our other Enjoyments, without which the longest Life would be no more than a living Death, and render us burdensome to our selves, and troublesome to all about us.
But though Life be so desirous, and Health so great a Blessing, yet how much is both the one and the other undervalued, by the greatest Part of Mankind? Whatever they may think or say of the inestimableness of those precious Jewels, yet ’tis plain, by their Practice, that they put the Slight upon, and despise them both; and the most Man are hardly sensible of the worth of Health, ’till they come in good Earnest to be deprived of it.
How many Men do we daily see, by their Intemperance and Excess, to lay the Seeds of future Distempers, which either carry them off in the flower of their Age, which is the Case of most or else render their Old Age, if they do arrive to it, uneasy and uncomfortable? And though we see others daily drop into the Grave before us, and are very apt with Justice to ascribe the Loss of our Friends, to their living too fast, yet we cannot forbear treading in the same Steps, and following the same Courses, ’till at last, by a violent and unnatural Death, we are hurried off the Stage of Life after them.
What the Noble Cornaro observes of the Italians of his Time, may very well be applied to this Nation at present, viz. “That we are not contented with a plain Bill of Fare; that we ransack the Elements of Earth, Air, and Water, for all sorts of Creatures to gratify our wanton and luxurious Appetites: That as if our Tables were too narrow and short to hold our Provisions, we heap them up upon one another. And lastly, That to create a false Appetite, we rack our Cook’s inventions for new Sauces and Provocations to make the superfluous Morsel go down with the greatest Gust.”
This is not any groundless Observation, but it carries an Experimental Conviction along with it. Look into all our publick Entertainments and Feasts, and see whether Luxury and Intemperance be not too predominant in them. Men, upon such Occasions, think it justifiable to give themselves the Loose, to eat heartily, and to drink deeply; and many think themselves not welcome, or well entertained, if the Master of the Feast be so wise as not to not give them an Occasion of losing the MAN, and assuming the BEAST.
The punitive assignment of a couple of external ‘management communication’ workshops is the latest folly imposed by a hapless ‘management’ that has no clue I’ve been teaching and facilitating such things across 20 countries. Deeply cynical and utterly oblivious to its own gaping flaws regarding humane and engaged leadership, its days are self-numbered. Trump-like, this ‘manager’ is a fount of narcissistic tendencies that reflect on Others the most self-possessed of gaping flaws.
My days there are self-numbered as well. What to do to maximize? meh. That’s the wrong question. Simply occupying the transitory instance of Life provides a low-frequency drone that accompanies the blood-pulse in ear: always there until it is not. Easy to be so distracted by the vicissitudes of existence that the pulse falls away from consciousness, bringing it back to the fore even while fully immersed in any activity. Burning up days that are never to be retrieved is the original sin. But it’s not about maximizing, it’s about be-ing within every moment. Every second.
I’ve segued into a state of mind that sees its own limits, looming, in reflections that now, seen close-up, fill the eyes with impending blindness. These are limits that Life imposes. Spirit might forefend them temporarily, then transcend or perhaps succumb to another line of existence. Or not. The expansive intentions that drove earlier Life have transformed into mere survival, seeing daily cycles as hurdles to overcome, all the while, watching evidence of life flicker, inverted on scarlet retina. Listening for blood-pulse.
Complex tasks are avoided because that meditative listening falls too far away. And Life becomes mere mechanical functioning: fixing this, buying that, eating food prepared by machines, not watching the stars, silently, motionfull within cosmic chaos.
Everything becomes work. First off, there is work-work, the cash-producing activity that resembles being at a cocktail party that your spouse’s ex invited her to, what the fuck was his name? You got dragged along. Yes, a non-zero possibility of having an interesting conversation on occasion, but then there are the unavoidable and stultifying and dysfunctional interactions more commonly encountered. There are surely better things to do in what has now become extremely limited life-time.
Then there is art-work, something that has generated minuscule quantities of cash over the years, though the peripheral effect of getting teaching jobs ostensibly because creative output can’t be ignored. But there’s no time to engage in the deep immersion that is required to produce, for example, sonic compositions. So art-work simply dries up. Archive gets occasional additions, but the process of mining the archive for material to feed the creative has ceased.
But all this is retrospect: what of the moment, this moment, where words are of no consequence, where words are empty, sightless, glazed eyes peering out from the memory of what once was on the page: what is now faded, erased. Yet, there is only the now, anymore, ever. The when of the past is only a weight to carry; the when of the future is someone else’s. Present conditions shrivel to the minimum: work-work to keep medical insurance and mortgage payments going while the mass of art-work falls to the floor, a gravitational insult to earth-bound body. No Lightness left in the creative endeavor.
Wind blowing gusts of snow on the far southern horizon: the San Juan Mountains. To the west the hulking mass of the Uncompaghre Uplift creates a false horizon, bending gravitational waves and forcing a second look, always.
I got onto this track while observing how others live in relation to the stuff that they ‘have’. A few additional thoughts coalesced between the annual moving of house, the monthly payments for a storage unit 800 miles away, and the effects of having too much stuff myself.
The personal nature of this dialectic rests within the character of an individual’s relation to reality, to the world, and to the perceived structural manifestations of that world. A worldview of flow acknowledges that change drives all conditions, that ‘things’ are temporary configurations of energy flow. A worldview rooted in the hard structures of materialism sees ‘things’ as mutable in their immediate usefulness, based on their potential to persist, if that characteristic is acknowledged at all. Both views stand in deep relationship as to how life is lived, moment-to-moment. Both are forced to acknowledge the transitory nature of be-ing.
Using suggests a consumption of a limited resource, something that is recognized or at least assumed to have a finite material life. And, when ‘finished’ or ‘used up’ the object is discarded, after being rendered use-less. But isn’t it such that everything gets used up? Sure, but there seems to be an inherent level of violence correlated to the rate at which something is used up. Laboriously accumulated or meticulously assembled things may be destined or actually created to be destroyed in a single usage: the explosive weapon. Although time is often measured relative to human perception and human life-span; this metric applies an anthropocentric stance that seems reasonable, given that many of the things used up are human fabrications. However, the speed question suggests that a slow dissolution is a constant background condition. If you don’t use me up, I will be used up anyway.
Taking-care-of suggests a stewardship that is governed by a continuity of interaction and attention meant to project the usability, the use, perhaps into a long future, perhaps a passing from person-to-person, beyond the individual’s life-time. In a way transcending the limitless hubris of the anthropocentric: it will last longer that I. However, to maintain usability an object needs to maintain its ordered existence: this requires energy and attentive care. Life-time and life-energy are drawn upon. Living is compromised. And, in the end, nothing will stop the dissolution that entropy enforces. You may be taking care of me, but I will be used up eventually.
Turns out, a majority of the ‘things I own’ are use-less to begin with: The Archive. Well, perhaps not completely bereft of function, but certainly not when in a survival mode. The Archive is the carrying of a story, of stories, forward in time. The use-full-ness of the story is directly correlated to how it augments survival—how it carries us through. The propagation of information forward in time is the core value in this. Whatever the form, information represents an ordered configuration of energized matter. However, value is relative. Information, energetically carried forward in time, compromises the viability of the carrier in a direct way. Without the compensating augmentation, it is not a good idea to participate in such a process as an organism. Use-full-ness is relative and changeable depending on circumstances, what was once useless may later become a valuable source in another context.
Using suggests a recognition that the end game is ever-present. Nothing is forever. Order cannot be maintained indefinitely. Energy runs out. We leave only the dissipating measure of our transitory presence: ripples radiating from that short cosmological pulse: use it, or lose it.
Taking-care-of suggests a refusal to recognize our impotence. Resisting the inevitable. Gentle raging at the dying of the Light. A refusal of the commonly assumed nature of reality: that caring is somehow an eternal value.
In the end, perhaps neither style of engagement with stuff really … matters. pffff!
[Ed: I will continue with these remembrances, in the moment this is all I can manage to compose.]
I’m tired of writing remembrances, each one reminds of the passing, fading nature of be-ing. I don’t need to be reminded that Life closes off, a box canyon with sheer varigated walls, cross-cut sediments of past-time on display. Fossilized life, fragments of bone, amber protrude from the sheer layered walls. Evidence of those who went before. Where are they? what are they doing? Somehow, Anthony’s passing clears something away, psychically: that he has made the transition, into the Bardo, and beyond. Not that he deserved it at his age, but that he was released from the physical ravages that cancer was imposing on his body. Following him, and the expanding number of others, will perhaps be less terrifying.
I met Anthony on the way out the door of Parson’s photo department building on 5th Avenue, just north of Washington Square Park, in the fall of 1985.
“The primary principle of this age in the West is decay.”
Yup. That resonated, still does. As elsewhere noted, that profound and concise observation marked the beginning of a long friendship that explored the surfaces of the world and the energies and patterns of flow behind those surfaces. It maintained itself for 34 years despite the infrequent crossings-of-path. Aside for a year or so when we were house-mates in a couple places in Boulder, it took the form of a rich correspondance along with the occasional meetings-up that were always electric. Princeton, Manhattan, Peters Valley, Newton, and then all the locales experienced on a handful of profound road-trips in the US West. Death Valley (including a legendary night in Las Vegas on New Years Eve — photographing the insanity of the place); across the Rez’ in Arizona, picking up hitch-hikers; dealing with extreme weather transiting the Colorado Rockies; time at the Great Sand Dunes; and all the while, closely observing the perfidy of the contemporary capitalist oligarchies and, if nothing else, making fun of it. National Dead People. Stick Puppets on Display. The George P. Schultz Delirium Tremens Telephone. He left the East Coast in 1987 or so, and engaged in a long meander around the West, deeply influenced by his encounters with the Native American cultures and histories. His passionate, spirited, sensitive, and brilliant intellect — a full-spectrum laser — initiated a reducing flux that operated powerfully in his poetic work. None of it easily consumed, he did not share it with more that a handful of people ever.
Our last day shared together was in 2014, a long one spent at the Met, wandering through Strawberry Fields and Central Park, and dinner at the Whole Foods cafeteria on the Upper West Side near his mother’s flat where he’d been living for a few years. He had been worn down by the ignominy of working in the retail “adrenalized sporting complex”. But he had also met Maite, a Catalonian woman, who he joined in Barcelona in 2016. Best that he was out of the US for the repugnance of oligarchy and destruction that has ensued.
The written word was his primary medium in more recent years, although his photographic work was an important and powerful expression as well. It was the case, however, that he was intensely private, and most of his creative output came in the form of letters, and for the last decade more than a thousand emails that included an image, a dense poetic work, or a carefully laid-out pdf word piece, or some combination of those. In the mid-80s he did have a few prose pieces published in Marvin Jones’ The New Common Good in New York City, as their “Western Correspondent”. The only one I have a copy of is an excerpt of “The Tourist“. All of his negatives and writings up to relatively recently were apparently lost to flooding at his mother’s place in Princeton. It appears that I am more-or-less the sole holder of his remaining artistic legacy: with a fat folder of beautifully hand-penned communications.
From a letter I wrote to Anthony, back in 1991, from what was home, then, Reykjavík:
There is a bit of nostalgia in my mind, but more, there is the respect for you as a creator, discoverer, synthesist, See-er, and, um, Voice-of-Consciousness from the Mouth of Chaos, more or less. (I find meself writing in Literal ways these days, unable to couch clearly or veil rightly, no figures dancing between the words). I have your three cards sitting, always self-aware, they are, there on the desk next to the Printer. In a small attic space, ceiling too low for me to stand, but fine to write, skylights at my back open to a 20-hour sun day. (Fela doin’ “Zombie”). I can feel the plasma mass pressure of the sun Light pressing down, trying to flatten the landscape into a line, a mote, but the earth is in constant retching here, heaving basalt sky-ward, building sites, Places for the People to live. You have fed me bits from a variety of Others — Others speaking about Others — or a saying about unsay-able things or, yes, That which is … … … Thank you.
Five years later on the down side of the summer solstice, 2019, the entry sits unfinished, inconclusive. Irrelevant at this point in life. All consideration is now on the exchange of life-time for cash. In a situation where that exchange is not taking place under conditions where there is any winning – only breaking even. The dreamt livelihood of living-by-art is a soiled rag, can’t even clean the windows of the soul. Nothing left. Time to bail, and forget saving up (nothing) for an uncertain and very possibly non-existent future.
Glad to finish water fills the hall – these long sonic works take up tremendous slices of time to edit as one has to *listen* to the edits in their entirety many times through. And at fifty-two minutes, well, do some math (many = somewhere deep into two digits?).
On holiday, perhaps, even though “Displace” (the Migrating Art Academies book) isn’t quite done, it is almost finished. A few more days of cleaning up texts from the proofs. Not so confident about the final product. This seemed to be the most difficult of the three MigAA volumes I’ve edited — with texts from more than 150 people (artists, educators, scientists, writers, activists, and so many more) from twenty countries, forging something understandable seemed impossible in some cases. The movements across language are incredibly challenging and the process of directing that movement kept me staring at the screen and off into space for days.
2014 culminates in a week-long bout of the flu: disagreeable but somehow all part of the Big Picture. Yes, the year culminates in exhaustion. Fuckin’ tired of the pile of things that ‘need’ doing, and the impossibility of getting out from under the tyranny of the material. Whatever that really *is*.
und so. Lots’a mulling over these past months, and the conclusion is that moving forward I will spend as close to 100% of my time [outside of the regular CGS workday] in proceeding to get on with my creative work. This means an end to what has anyway been an impoverished social life of the last year. Time is slipping, and in order to accomplish something, anything, before the clock runs out, the days of nomadic shuffling around to engage with folks f2f are over, gone. Much life-time was spent in this pursuit over the years, but now, the archive calls, to be reassembled, reconfigured, simply maintained, fwiw: there is certainly no worth in it residing in boxes. Hundreds, thousands of vintage silver prints, slides, negatives, tapes moldering away in boxes. And I need to spend the time in getting works out, or something. The bulk of my creative production went into that personal network, and it seduced me into thinking it was a sustainable pathway. It was not. It brought me to the miserable situation that I am in now. I see this reflected in every postcard of mine that I run across. A piece of my life-time/energy spent in the desperate drive to remain connected. more “changing up the trajectory”
Been mulling this one for the last year, since starting this regular job. Most self-time/energy is consumed in maintaining the psycho-neuro structure necessary to hand over that life-time and life-energy to someone else in exchange for cash. Nothing is left over except that abstract bank balance. Is this merely age? or a lack of fitness in this theatrical role? or a basic misunderstanding on how to be in such a situation? I do not know. Life passes.
From the hollowness of this drained state, relationships slip away with an ease that defies comprehension, much less understanding. Once gone, there seems to be no trace of them. They vanish into the darkness of failing memory, only a few tiny fragments of mediated presence remain, if anything. Impact? Affect? Impression? One may argue that, yes, I was impacted, I made an impact, they were impacted, they made an impact, but this is so abstract that it carries little to consider, especially after memory departs. We forget what we become.
After a long life-work of spending life-time with different people: traveling to visit them, I’ve discovered that this doesn’t mean very much in a culture that respects only power and its abstracted instrument, money.
And I am merely a mooch, a nomadic parasite on that monetized system. I made the fundamental and very naive mistake assuming that my presence was welcome all this time, the last thirty years, more. Solo pilgrim to solitary places — a nomad whenever possible — is and will be the mode from now on. period. It’s been this way on an increasing basis anyway, might as well make it formally so.
[Already] ’cause time is going so fucking fast. Happened that I got a migraine the same day, so had to take my first day of sick leave. Uuh, important factoid? Nah. Glazed eyes, with four monitors at the desk, workin’ for ‘the man’ 8-5 (with a chunk of extra hours already accrued), M-F, many days a year. Woe is me (as in Dürer’s Apokalypse argh). Life-time simply melts away. And though this is Life, it never seems so. Life is elsewhere, except when fully immersed in a natural system (could that be my, or someone else’s navel? s’pose so). Better yet, simply immersed in sensing the sky devoid of skyworms, the land devoid of vehicles, houses, and foot-prints, devoid of pathways, suffused with chaos, no invisible armature holding it all together, flying free.
Work: comprised of back-end organization of the CGS data-space. The digital data-space has had no comprehensive oversight or consistent management since the advent of the digital office itself. Terabytes of data has accumulated without regard to searching, utilization, or archiving. Of course, all this takes resources which the CGS hasn’t had much of. I have taken several small portions of that data-space and am intensively re-organizing them as consistent, searchable, and public-facing resources. As the organization exists to provide information to the public, it is essential that it has a work flow that proceeds from the professional geoscience research directly into formats that augment the public role. So, a key question is how to make that translation from scientific data and information to public information and knowledge.
Colorado Geological Survey website; bookstore; the new blog I just implemented; Twitter feed @COGeolSurvey; and Facebook page. Nothing active on Instagram as there is already a dearth of usable visual material. I am well into taking the entire website, bookstore, and blog situation (more than 2000 pages of stuff – GIS data, maps, reports, forms, publications, information, images, and some videos) and melding that into a single WordPress site that will piggyback on an in-progress web re-tooling that Mines is doing concurrently. File naming conventions, directory structures, metadata strategies, editing of texts and visuals, whilst implementing and monitoring a wide range of analytics to get accurate information about the 1-to-2-thousand visitors a day that the site gets. And so on.
This blog is rapidly becoming the site of moribund emptiness. Material accumulates, but j-o-b interferes with any creative expression. This raises many questions relating to how life is lived versus how it may be lived. As energies enter later phases and levels, life-time comes to more crucial junctures: what to spend it on. Limited supply and no do-overs raise the price to that asymptotic limit: transcendence!
I think I understand William Blake. A man who brought his soul to life, at the expense of not living so much within the bounds of the social system. “A man not forestalled by predecessors, nor to be classed with contemporaries, nor to be replaced by known or readily surmisable successors…”
But then, as Empire teeters on what is left of its decaying foundation, what of intellect, creativity, spiritual movement?
“That’s One Big Belch For Man,
One Average ( Syncopated ) ( Plastic ) Hiccup For Mankind ….”
______ Ubu Roi V
***** ( five stars )
mise en scene & mobile app by the author of
Awaken The Giant Within
The theater of the ‘working world’ — as random humans come together in earnest efforts to optimize the success of some shared and cooperative activity — this becomes my reality. Sacrificing personal life-time in service of the social, in recognition that social cooperation will/should ultimately convert into individual viability. The unfathomably deep internal desire to … live … is the energized basis for all social collectivity. Social structures persist through shared efforts that collectively move along a single trajectory. The trajectory determined by initial conditions as much as the social contingencies that follow.
A bit overwhelming, faced with thousands of images and texts in analog form. How to go about it, especially as there is no possibility of waving hands and all get transformed to digital gems. Dross versus age, time, and energy. And the solitary process of culling, ordering, and such. The application of a system upon that which has no system, or has an unusable system for the future. More order where there is less, more simplicity where chaos has lent an indeterminate complexity. And many holes in knowing what is what. The flesh-and-blood memory storage devices have dissolved in flame. So those faces from 60, 70, 80 years ago are now unknown by name, though the far-ago visages are here re-membered in form.
Only so much life-time/life-energy is available for these tasks, this remembering. Time spent on looking backwards is time not spent in the moment looking around and participating in the immediacy of creative action. But an inertia is building to return to works on paper, in large format.
proceeding. into histories. as present/future seem not to supply a place to occupy.
Our acquiescence to the thorough mediation of the world as sensed through our technological devices produces deep strains in the viability of the hegemonic (or democratic!) State. Requisite to civil society is the face-to-face encounter with the Other, where human reason and compassion, and, yes, empathy, are central to ‘knowing’ that Other. (Christian doctrine, anyone?) The level of technological mediation applied to what once was face-to-face encounter has stripped it of the potentials of relation that empathy provides. This loss unravels a crucial thread in the social fabric.
The further reliance on (media)ted feeds for information about the world reduces our ability to make accurate and propitious judgements about what to do next. The fact that these information feeds are now largely reduced to theater, and worse yet, simple life/time -consuming spectacle places us (as a class of self-determining individuals) at profound risk of external control. (That is, when we ‘pay’ attention to them, consume them!) The sensory sophistication of these feeds has the demonstrated capacity to re-form even personally-acquired memory. What are we left with?
Concrete is a major energy-intensive product that makes a significant contribution to total global energy usage. The house had a tremendous amount of poorly poured concrete in a variety of forms that I’ve been breaking up and putting in two large piles. Because of the energy issue, re-use of that concrete is a priority, but it first has to be turned into a form that is usable. This means breaking large pieces, some weighing up to thirty kilos (50-60 pounds). The initial removal was accomplished with a large steel pry-bar and a lot of “elbow-grease” as my father would say. The subsequent work of reducing the size is with a 3-pound hammer. To break the material into hand size requires, on average, one hammer blow for each reduced-size piece. To take care of all the material will take many tens of thousands of hammer blows. This piece is a meditation on that process; it is also an homage to The Book of One Thousand Buddhas, itself an homage to Buddhist prayer books more than a thousand years old.
Glacial creeping, pre-global-warming, through the print archive, I mentally calculate how much effort it would (be/have been) to create a full index of all the works there. Similar to what I did, post-mortem, stripped down to underwear and sweating, for the hundreds of paintings in Kevin’s studio during those hot summer days in 2006. Exploring a dead friend’s oeuvre pulls one’s interior through a filter of “is this it?”, “is this all there is left?”, “what will I leave behind?”, and a more general “what the fuck am I doing?”
Existential? Yup. Dilemma? Yup. Crisis? Yup. Fuggit? You bet.
Material art works are experienced, in this case by the creator, as a burden. There is some spark when pulling archival storage boxes, opening them up, and recalling the original vibe of making, enjoying the surface of the paper, the rich and detailed tonalities, the complex challenge of the performance of printing (what I described to my students as dancing through a print), but all that fades whenever the box is closed and the spine is given the task of moving the portfolio against gravity. Artist and artwork cannot escape the unceasing earthward pull (“fight gravity” a once-owned tee-shirt proclaimed with rock-climbing brilliance). So this becomes the interrogative metric: How heavy is it? Followed by the musing: Why is it not Light? It’s made from Light, but perhaps Light’s tracing on the paper is the carnal, the hypostasis: is the Fall. Ach! For levity, arise!
The sensual world is a phenomena apprehended imperfectly through our senses, as it suffuses through our entire being. Or is it received perfectly? As energy is characterized by radiant movement (from a source, from a concentration, to a sink), we are suffused with the radiant energy of the world that we are immersed in. We receive, and as a localized system of concentrated energy, we also radiate. In this two-way circulation of energy, we are constantly re-connecting with the larger world around us: inhaling energized particles that arrive in our immediate vicinity; drinking a certain fundamental energy source that we have named water; consuming other quantities of energy from the wider system around us. Reaching with hand, striving with foot to promote necessary and sufficient consumption for the maintenance of body and more than simple survival. We expend our life-energies in organizing the world around us, and for that, we eventually die. Before that instance of transformation, time is spent in seeking to realize procreative potentials so that life will continue in its unbroken line from primordial past to questionable future. And when that time is done, body implodes, trading order for disorder, until we become the radiant heat of interstellar plasma.
If the doors of perception were cleansed,
everything would appear to man as it is — infinite.
For man has closed himself up ’til he sees things
through narrow chinks of his cavern.
— William Blake
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer. — R.M. Rilke
finished the rolling-over process from the travelog to this blog. pain in the arse! 2850 entries at this point, now the hard work of adding several thousand images along with much more audio, and other miscellaneous content in the next months. as acquisitions slack off, I can finally catch up.
in the same moment, I realize that personal communications with Others has dropped off precipitously in the last, say, two years — hmmm, a direct affect of thesis-mongering? or merely life in this instance? unfortunately, few keep up with this blog, otherwise they would have some inkling of what has gone down in the last 24 months or so.
the other thing I realized was that I’ve been making far more images of roadside memorials (Roadside Memorials?) than of live humans. that’s a bit of a shock to the system to consider. when I’ve been encountering quite a number of new people in life. plenty of opportunities. it seems that it’s too intense to drag out the Nikon — it’s too much. either that, or the recent diving into archive has made the further acquisition of images — the continual expansion of the archive — to be a hopelessly perverse exercise. when so much of it has hardly been surfaced to any of the many represented in it. what to be done? there’s only so much time in a rapidly-passing life!
not to mention the greatest down-side of archive is the life-time/life-energy necessary to committed to maintaining it. an archive is all about order, and a carefully constellated archive — one where things may be found! — tends to dis-order the moment that energy ceases to flow into maintenance of that order.
Niina has been researching art and technology for some years now. We met when I was teaching my old netculture class at the Media Lab in the University of Art and Design Helsinki back in 2000. I participated in her research for her PhD then, and … now
Ei Niina — this is all I could manage, it’s impromptu, but honest, with a bit of humor mixed in… a little complicated, as there’s no time to write an essay about what world-view lies behind the answers. You might want to reference https://www.neoscenes.net/hyper-text/text/pixel.html an article I wrote for Pixelache in Helsinki in 2007 — the same year I did a workshop there too https://www.neoscenes.net/projects/pixel/index.php
> 1.What changes have happened in your work and practices as an artist during the
> last ten years? Do you think your relationship with technology / or the way you
> use technology /has changed during this time?
My practice has widened intensively to take on a tough challenge of the entire techno-social system we are embedded within, are part of. Yes, this includes my relationship AND my understanding of the relationship between all flows that are the substance of technology. This also includes all aspects of life governed by techno-social protocol. When I use (a) technology I understand what I will both lose and gain when using that particular protocol. Using a technology is in fact, a changing of flows of energy that we are embedded in, part of. We are not separate in any way from everything else!
This space accreting, while the gradual shutting-down of FaceBook proceeds. After the Lightning trip from Yuma through Calexico on northward to the Bay Area and back 48 hours later with my original road-tripping partner, Gary, sheesh: 36 years compresses into careers, children, life-trajectories, and gas prices. That and a running dialogue on the nature of the cosmos and human relation.
Regarding the FaceBook wastage, well, it seems quite right for the moment, no regrets. When only a minuscule fraction of hundreds of ‘friends’ notice the departure. Mostly the ones who do are also ones who find the whole thing tiresome and distinctly artificial. The ones with thousands of friends notice nothing in that sea of being known and wanted, busy as they pump their status (statii?) by the moment. After being an early adopter, and a participant for a time, it does seem to be only an accumulation of attention-sucking life-dross. A prime example of how media can absorb our attention without limit — making consumable, for consumption, the textually and visually reduced detritus of be-ing. And presenting that as a worthy object of a sizable chunk of our social life-time. Of the same dimension as the proliferation of bottom, side, and top overlay graphics on cable teevee screens.
I discover that I have suffered no irretrievable loss as I squeeze down the feeds (media consumables, eh?) to nothing. No you-tube fragments, no important NYT articles, no photos of vacation travel, no banal ego-feeding status updates. I suffer no gaping existential holes in my existence on the planet. Down to 200 friends, slowly deleting all content, connection, and demarcation in the account so it will end as a shriveled husk, a dried dust mote falling from the data cloud.
This workshop will draw on Hopkins’ international experience in facilitating creative encounters in the context of the Temporary Autonomous Zone. With an open structure for engaged and focused dialogue, the workshop will explore a powerful energy-based worldview that can open up new awareness of social, cultural, and natural systems. The dynamics of collaborative human relations confined within an attentive space is guaranteed** to generate provocative and inspiring outcomes. Creativity is, by definition, about the formative flow of energy between living organisms. We will move through a variety of environments (including on the river by waka) as we share life-time in the workshop. The workshop will augment the processes of any creative practitioner with a profound, situated, and practice-oriented conceptual toolbox that address the following areas and more:
(Keywords in no particular order): energy, creativity, thermodynamics, technology and techno-social systems, art, attention, entropy, learning, media, networks, participation, process, virtuality, creative action, human presence, Light, human encounter, mediation, concentration, optimization, pathways, meals, sustainability, simplicity, synchronicity, auspiciousness, and serendipity.
**on the condition that you bring along your entire Self, not merely your body, mind, and spirit
Arendt‘s tripartite approach to the sociopolitical — Work, Labor, Action — in “The Human Condition” suggests the expenditure or the flow of energy. All three are intertwined within the do-ing, the be-ing of life, and in the sense that they are all embodied expressions of life-energy, they are equal, divided only by the particularities of the pathways of expression of those energies. She begins, I believe correctly, with viva activa as her source: the active, activated life. However, she does not explicitly posit a connection between viva activa and the source of the possibility for an active lif, that is: ones life-energy (sourced in the energized thermodynamic flows of life itself). These impulses towards the social structures of collective life must have a source, an activated well-spring that drives the cumulative social (and life) dynamic. The question of the source is perhaps more important than the ultimate expression of the source. more “work, labor, action”
I kept coming back to this route for respite from my work, and for my work too, because thinking is generally thought of as doing nothing in a production-oriented culture, and doing nothing is hard to do. It’s best done by disguising it as doing something, and the something closest to doing nothing is walking. Walking itself is the intentional act closest to the unwilled rhythms of the body, to breathing and the beating of the heart. It strikes a delicate balance between working and idling, being and doing. It is a bodily labor that produces nothing but thoughts, experiences, arrivals. — Rebecca Solnit
It’s hard to brightly imagine that when we decide to retreat to the desert or to the mountains to walk, it is a process deeply colored and, literally, in/de-formed by relatively recent cultural contingency.
The retreat is steeped in a socially constructed reality that began to emerge around William Wordsworth and J. J. Rousseau’s time and was sparked, in part, by their actual perambulations and especially the writings that welled-up whilst they were on the road (The Excursion, by Wordsworth, for example, and Rousseau’s Reveries of the Solitary Walker).
But in a completely different sense, walking (and be-ing while walking) is ahistoric. Because the present moment is never to be repeated, nor is a life-time to happen twice, the momentary events of that particular movement are unique, and uniquely inspiring. Embodied movement is a passage through the flux of difference, regardless of the pathway. And although I cannot anymore go to the delicious extremes of span and height and endurance that so many others have done and will do, it is not extremity that brings the timeless essence of movement. When all is change, the senses are taught to discern the minute difference of the everyday, ever more. In this, the near becomes just as exotic and inspiring as the far and less reachable places.
What could better illustrate the instability of protocol-driven social control systems than the phenomenon of a leak? Springing a leak is an irruption through a human-constructed wall (hull) holding back the chaotic flows of the sea. Wikileaks is a reversal of that, where the leak is from the inside of the ship-of-State to the outside. Where inside there are protocol-defined pathways of State-driven communication flow filling a space of partially-stabilized human endeavor. Every so often, one of the nodes of State communication goes rogue, mad, AWOL, counter, and defies the standing protocols by whatever means possible. Opening the mouth and speaking, telling the secrets of State, a yawning vomit of bilge over the sides: merely seasick.
The hull of the ship of State exists across a multi-dimensional space of refined/defined energy flow. Defined energy flow resists change and promotes continuance. Regarding the State, protocol controls individual behavior through internalized patterns of embodied thought. The State seeks any possible way to apply these internal protocols, and is successful if those ways promote the existence of the necessary flow pathways that insure the continuance of the structure of the State. The more rigid the expectations of the State, the more necessary the adherence to prescribed protocols (and vice versa). The State also applies controls to patterns of energy flow external to the body. These two (internal and external) sets of controls are not separate but rather are united in the space of flow to effect more-or-less total control on the participant and the crew of the ship of State. more “the fluidity of leaking”
I hear myself say “shit,” with a drawn out groan when waking up in the morning. Rebirth? Or merely recognizing that the night visions were not reaches into some omnipotent primal mind, but were instead merely what I saw yesterday, under the sun, with their false meaning correlated into the banality of teeth-grinding dreams.
The north-shore-bound train rattles across that one bad joint on the Harbor Bridge outside the window, dung-da-dung-dung-da-dung-dung-da-dung-dung-da-dung. Four cars, eight sets of wheels: a single axle, three doubles, and a single.
[After watching her long eyelashes, seated as she is, side-wise to me, profiled at the front of the bus, I cannot that night close my eyes and see her…]
Why does the potential in life seem to drain ever more quickly here, and there. After an mid-afternoon pause, outside to record sounds. Because other progresses are not made when confronted by the screen. Therefore. Capitulation of any weak progression of thought, it comes to nowhere.
Thinking instead, flat, two dimensional, of the solitary and gape-mouthed death, settling that night into the room of living.
And in the evening, making for bed early with a tinge of migraine, I say, “my third eye has closed.” And seek another sleep in tangled comfort.
The root vertere, to turn; Sanskrit vartayati he turns; advertere, to turn towards. Drawing the attention (attendere, to wait for). To wait to be turned towards the object of desire. Give it your attention, your life-time, your life-energy. And you shall be free! Ignore it at your distinct mortal peril. As goes advertising, so goes capitalism. Sex for goods.
The force behind adoption of protocols. If advertising is the nice side, what is the obverse? Coercion (sensory input), propaganda (sensory input), persuasion (language-based), peer pressure (sensory input), norms (sensory input) …
But what about the time where attention is paid to it — versus the time spent in actually following its advice (or promise of reward) — the suspended times of non-being?
Sleep difficult, not sure why, whether simple discomfort, though the back of the truck seems very comfortable in the immediate impression, warm, soft enough, but body cannot find a comfortable position, side to side, somehow, problems. Could be that yoga hasn’t been happening in the last days. Hiking is a challenge for the body as well.
Drive up to the head of Sand Canyon, intent on doing a hike, but what looks like bad weather coming in, a heavy front across the whole west, sends me back after a short recon along the Bench Road. It seems doable as an alternative escape route, if this end is the worst, though, in wet conditions, forget it. And it totals thirty miles to Elk Springs, not just the three miles I did on recon. Almost all of it is in the red and yellow (bentonite) clay-sandstone alluvium, and this is precisely this same stuff which sits at the top of the Echo Park Road — from the 2000-foot displacement on the Mitten Park Fault, so, no real solution in heavy and widespread rain. However, this doesn’t seem the case — the rain is sporadic, fast-moving, and interspersed with bright sunshine and the roads are basically still dry after two days of ‘winter storm,’ so fretting about it is a waste of energy. Either I get out on Friday or I don’t and have to wait a few days. Plenty of water, fuel, and food, so that is no problem. The only locked-in point is the flight next Wednesday evening to Portland. But I’d still hate to miss the yurt-raising in Glade Park at Collin and Marisa’s this weekend! more “western terminus Yampa Bench”
posted
place: Echo Park, Dinosaur National Monument, Colorado
Have an incredibly erotic dream with Jennifer D., back from the Culture Capitals 2000 project in Prague. Will have to email her. Otherwise watery squint-eyed perusal of the rotating stellar field in ma’ face.
This morning, a raptor circles a hundred meters away with its mate hidden in the trees along Pool Creek, making a creeeewing sound. It’s the same noise it made when I wandered over to the creek earlier in the morning. All the birds are noisy—it makes a multi-dimensional flow which lies on the ear with pleasing insistence. No need to move the head, as the sources are in motion and occasionally in sight. more “arrival and meditation”
Rather than producing new material configurations of the energized world as a tool for individual continuance and relevance to the wider social system, I chose to concentrate on a fundamental closer to the bone, as it were: the production of new configurations of the energized world as a tool for individual continuance and relevance to the wider social system. What we do changes the cosmos, always, everywhere, (because everywhere’s are not separated nor distinct).
Traditional art production is (merely) the (re)configuration of certain flows in the near (and far) surround of the producer. My approach generally falls under this model but approaches the reconfiguration process from an entirely different path. Entering a ‘residency’ is (merely) moving from one (life)-situation into another: we are constantly doing this in life, transitioning from one semi-stable configuration to another, with periods of more-or-less instability in between. If one leaves traditional temporal and spatial metrics behind, this process may be seen simply as the modulation of a constancy of flowing condition. The particular conditions and configurations of a situation dictate the potential range of reconfigurations possible, given the energy input of the individual and the embodied life-energy/life-time that is available. The configuration is merely a cumulative apprehended set of flows occurring with a reductive purview (and is always relative to the observer!) There is the ‘locally external’ factor of the accessibility of external energy sources for reconfiguring, but if one approaches the situation as a more autonomous and self-contained instance, the range of possibility is limited just as life-time and life-energy is limited. It is along this approach that I undertook this residency. (I will here omit a wider discussion of the framework of my personal model of the cosmos as there isn’t the room here to undertake it even in brief). more “CLUI residency — Energy of Situation”
In analyzing the affect of technology on a social system it is critical to identify and understand 1) what actors or protocols are determining the pathways of energy flow, 2) ultimately how individuals in the system interact with the pathway(s), 3) the resulting benefit and who receives it, 4) the mechanisms by which benefit (energy) is accumulated by those controlling the protocols. Prior to this it is probably necessary to map the general sources of energy that are being re-purposed (directed) by the techno-social system.
By tracing in detail 1) the relations of power, 2) the pathways along which energy and power flow, 3) the sources and destinations of the flows, the entirety of human relation may be positioned at both a macro scale and a granular (that is, human-to-human) scale: with the implicit understanding that all relation is permeated by the affects of the wider system.
For a techno-social system to be successful, by definition, it has to capture a certain minimum of the life-time/life-energy of participants in the system: this is a technology’s ultimate function within its social system/context. What is deterministic is the absolute need for life (human and elsewise) to continue, and in this continuance, to refine pathways of energy flow to aid in that continuance via the collective augmentation of the techno-social system.
(Are there technologies which do not concentrate energy within a certain subset of individuals to increase their ultimate life-extending pro-creativity? Are there systems which re-distribute widely their concentrated sources?) What about the struggle of certain individuals for a greater level of personal autonomy — those who would seek to either not participate in prescribed flow pathways or would seek to alter those pathways to suit individual desires? The inertia of the techno-social affects the personal trajectories of adoption or imposition.
In a wide social system, a techno-social system, technology is generally used as a means for concentrating energy for a subset of elites of the system. The balance of the participants, the drones, the prolls, the slaves, are inculcated from birth with the fiction that they are receiving more than they actually surrender to the social system. In the case of slaves, this balance reads: your life for your embodied labor.
Matt pushes off towards Salt Lake City for a flight back to LAX. I roll up sleeves, literally, and begin the task of altering yet another environment to conform to my needs and to optimize my time here. Cleaning is very necessary as I’m the first resident of the year — the center is normally closed from the end of November to the beginning of April. So, raising the level of order with the input of human life-energy and life-time. Scrubbing floors, wiping down shelves, polishing windows, moving furniture, vacuuming and wiping down everything (ceiling vents, floor, blinds, window sills, chairs, tables — everything has a coating of fine dust on it such that touching it leaves the hands dirty — opening all storage areas and inventorying everything, wiping down all devices, drawers, walls, surfaces). This will take days of sporadic effort, but today is completely used up, late into the night. Bringing things in from the truck, looking at the damage to the bike rim and roof rack, figuring out the food situation. Rearranging the kitchen and living spaces. Looking through the library to see what should be looked at more closely. And so on. Settling in for the duration.
The latch handles on both the driver- and passenger-side door are broken. There is a certain geometry on the plastic lever-arm which, over time of repeated lifting motions, fails. So I have to replace them. The truck is relatively old, compared to the average age of vehicles on the road. I call the Toyota dealer nearby, and they want almost USD100 for each replacement handle. This is called an OEM part — Original Equipment Manufactured — a part which carries some of the branded weight of the maker and its record of quality along with a premium price (including a substantial markup to underwrite the existence of the dealer distribution system). Too much! I knew this would be the case before I called, but I wanted to set a ceiling price before looking elsewhere, online. This particular vehicle model was globally a widely-distributed frame, body, and engine combination and so there turns out to be a substantial non-OEM parts market. The only question is one of quality. Non-OEM parts online appear to be both Mainland Chinese- and Taiwanese-made with what seems to be a substantial US distribution presence in the form of highly discounted warehouses designed for online mail-order sales (with Ebay, Amazon, and their own web sales presence). I find the parts, in several styles (chromed plastic and black) for a small fraction of the OEM cost, USD 20 with free shipping. more “technology fails”
Mills, using the key word, power, sketches out the relation between the individual and small groupings of people and their often problematic relation to those exercising power within The State. It is the terms abuse of power and exercising power which are most intriguing. What do they actually mean? I believe they are derived not from abstracted political relationships, but rather actualized movements of energy — deflected through socially-constructed pathways of relation — that may be read as the substance of the social system itself. more “abuse of power”
(but wait a minute, LIFE is, by definition, a redirecting of the flows of energy in a natural system — a redirecting that is a necessary (but not sufficient) condition of living systems — according to basic non-equilibrium thermodynamics of living systems.)
However, there is a scalar difference between humans and other living entities where some humans attempt this kind of control on wide scales, with others re-directing those same energies to completely different configurations, some only images of what their ‘original’ pattern of flow once were. (it’s a question of degree?) more “Redirecting the Flows of Energy in Natural Systems”
I was telling someone the other day that I am a good participant. I know how to jump into a situation and contribute in a way that is sensitive to the ambient flows that are happening at the same time as clearly manifesting a unique set of contributing flows. Perhaps a bit too conservative in respecting the paths of those ambient flows, but it’s probably better to be slightly more conservative than liberal. Uhh, such loaded terms. Useless words after they are so distorted by socio-politics of certain cultural configurations. Although it is ironic to note that here in Australia their political meaning is in (antipodal) opposition. Which simply emphasizes the idiocy of politics (as Peter Tosh observed once: Politics, “poli” means people, “ticks” are parasites, politics, parasites on the people). Words, language, always tends to go through this reification process. Followed by a morphing process when the reified language becomes overwhelmed when attempting to explicate new situations or when circumscribing known situations with a different point-of-view. The reified structures will be bolstered and protected until usage simply makes them redundant. more “on participation, part one”
The second example — though it is a much more complex combination of pathways in its geo-political and material deployments and in its interaction with the overall continuum of relation — is foundational to the TSS (techno-social system) and is also a prototypical expression of amplification. It is even more a prototype than radio. Radio is merely one sub-system of what is ultimately a military organization.
A military system incorporates all the requisite patterns of an amplification system: input signal (the human population and other concentrated energy sources available to the TSS); amplification process (provisioning and equipping of the select grouping of people through the collective life-energies of the greater population of the TSS); the feedback system (communications, command, and control systems); and the output signal (the expression of amplified (and directed) energy flow as a campaign to secure the viability of the TSS either by offense or defense). more “The Military”
Writing is oscillation, it is frequency, it is tone and overtone. It is directed at a hundred thousand invisible targets some not yet alive, most dying, some dead. It is all-encompassed by the infinite flux of be-ing at the same time as being uncircumscribable. Resonance drives the text. Without resonance, the text is more than dead, it is simply not. Null, less-than-zero. Silent. While speaking in tongues, interfacing with one another, we tack meanings to the words, sounds, making them become for a moment, a surfacing out of a wider flow of dis-connection. Or merely happenstance accretion, coagulation, a resulting (sepsis-in-mind) of something (quelque chose), making: turbid agglomeration becomes acculturation.
The whole engagement with the idea of doing the doctorate arises from a combination of pragmatics and desire. The pragmatic considerations are real to the degree that the author understands the social value of ideas that are formally exposed, independent of format, and that the Other takes up, paying life-time and attention to. This is a basic premise. Desire enters the process where there is the need to be recognized, this, not on a social scale, but on a simple and uncorrupted personal scale. There is the deep risk that both these motivations are hollow and base-less. To defeat that potential, the process will be open and open-ended, unending. It will not begin and end with bound covers and stitched bindings. It will mimic life that came from who-knows-where and is going elsewhen.
One point of this blog is to de-stabilize the general process of writing to the degree of opening up expressive possibility. It is not here to be a blog, with endless sifting through and cross-referencing of network sludge. It is an armature on which to hang the infinity of idiosyncratic individual inputs and some limited external inputs into the process flow.
Looking at Foucault’s conception of discourse as a conflation of semiotics and postmodernism (gag on that stone-like term). Of course, the State (or, in my terms, the Techno-social system), when exercising power has to project power along more or less defined pathways. That is a fundamental characteristic of the TSS — its cumulative ability to (and process of) refining and ultimately reifying the pathways through which power (energy!) moves through the system. This power/energy ultimately and necessarily moves between human participants in the system and the pathways are, ultimately, sourced and targeted through the space of flows (between individual beings) to the individuals themselves, the Continuum of Relation. (see my comments on code in the previous posting, where code is a reified or institutionalized discourse pathway that carries energy between humans.) The expression of power, though, comes not from some externalized and monumental State. The concept of State is simply the active collectivization of individuals life-time/life-energy which dynamically coalesces into a relation or constellation which is a source of projected power. The force of projected power being the ability of a collective to gather excess energies, and organize them (negentropically) in such a way that they may be projected along a chosen pathway. This is where various levels of both subtle and overt control and coercion find their exercise — within individual lives as those lives are mapped into a collective space of more singular flow (vs flows).
Film serves to train human beings in the practice of those apperceptions and reactions required by the frequentation of an apparatus whose role in their daily life ever increases. To make this whole enormous technological apparatus of our time into the object of human interiorization and appropriation [innervation] — that is the historic task in whose service film has its true meaning. — Walter Benjamin
Then is there any reason to doubt a connection between the declining power and influence of the (technocratic mediocracy of the) United States and the implementation of the Internet as-it-is today? Is there any connection between the tendencies of its population to spend their (limited) life-time in tele-communication (and tele-consumption!) and the demise of civil society? People seemingly now avoid confronting the (unknown) Other and rather cluster as mirrored-Selves, with a cumulative effect of breakdown of a (diverse) cultural fabric into a checker-board of self-interest groupings which spend time defending the borders of their squares from the surrounding Evil unknown.
this conclusion proposed in the sense that if film can have that profundity of affectation on human nervous systems (the primary interface with the world-as-mediated-by-body; or the primary EM antenna-structures), then what of all the wide press of technological development seeping into all parts and orifices of perception and reaction?
iDC list gets annoying and rewarding at the same time. but what of life spent on the keyboard? the topic is teaching… and the transition of the teacher into the link jockey.
sotto voce: While the offerings of IP_based networks seem unlimited, and in rhetoric, the superlative of unlimited is often applied, I think it is important to keep firmly in mind that it is not a space of unlimited knowledge nor is it a space of neutral knowledge. And, also, in this time, it is not a space of embodied experience aside from eyes absorbing statically-framed EM radiation, ears hearing sounds disconnected from their source, and fingers twitching across a very limited place. Not to mention underlying ideologies which accompany each form of mediated connection (largely invisible but very much real) — among others, that of consumption (extractive resources, electricity, and thus, the globe-spanning world that we exert irresponsible dominion over). In this regard, the (limited)vastness of that knowledge-space seems a bit tainted and out-of-touch perhaps. Expensive and consumptive. Exclusive, reductive, and reified. A teacher is a catalyst, and is one who, simply by being an Other we encounter in life, presents us with the unknown. If we trust that Other, a world opens up that was previously unknown, and (if) we (trust enough to) apprehend and engage it, it changes us, we learn. This unknown world is sourced in the entire comprehensible universe, and is available through that Other. These encounters may take place anywhere, anytime, and can be had ‘for free.’ We need only ‘pay’ the Other with our attention, our life-time, and life-energy. It seems that in our formal techno-social educational systems, these potential encounters with the Other are (being) replaced by more and more socially-standardized systems-of-relation (protocols, curricula, government mandates, abstracted monetary instruments) which seem ever more intrusive to and even suppressive of potential open encounters. This limits the creative potential of the outcome. The cumulative effect of this social hyper-formalization-of-encounter — because learning occurs precisely at the edge of knowing, not within the known — is that we look elsewhere for the dynamic of coming-to-be (learning) that keeps us alive and growing. To me this is the ultimate source of the loss of vitality that affects the Education World, a vitality that ultimately does not rest on technological mediation but on human encounter. Yes, human encounter is always mediated by the vast range of social protocols and tools, and learning encounters may happen within highly mediated (‘virtual’) spaces, but when we allow those encounters to slide continuously into more and more mediated spaces, the life-time available for less mediated human encounter shrinks. I think that this represents a wide loss to learning, education, community, and creative potential as it moves to extremes and forgets what it is predicated upon — the originary encounter between the Self and the Other.
passing through lives and lives and lives. rowing a small boat across endlessly ending time. with days that finalize in the hands of the clock still hanging on every wall, somewhere. days stop when lidded eye shuts: as with child, seen, becomes imagined invisible to others when the eyes close on the self. but days do not end, even as life does not end. yet. life that runs a long and flowing line, continuous, almost everlasting in duration. each creature giving rise to the next in a long flow of be-ing, the continuous expression of life on this planet.
to be the last of of your kind is nothing when held to be the last living thing. but since we have no expansive image of what is life — we cannot measure where it began, nor where, when, it might end — we stumble onward, every day, into every night. later waking in darkness, seeing points of Light shimmering among human-spilled energies, falling back asleep reassured that something else is still there.
morning brings the same difference. and what is it that we have begun?
in response to this question posed by Annick Bureaud on the [new media curating] list (in a discussion about access to digital information):
The question might be : how much do you (really) pay in order to get access to an online document, how much the people who have worked to provide the access to this document are paid, who (ultimately) pays for this service?
sotto voce: The cost (what you pay) is directly correlated to the depth of your embeddedness, your degree of participation in the techno-social system. For example, to simply ‘own’ a laptop, I calculated over the past 15 years I spend around USD 120 / month. This does not include cost of upgrades and peripherals, telecom, electrical, or other costs. This is only having the machine sitting on my lap. Of course, to participate in the techno-social system more “the price you pay”
what could be more banal and even demeaning than receiving a gift of cash?
huh, what are you talking about? sheesh, what’s wrong with cash?
okay, that’s a gut response as I formulate the core of an essay The Regime of Amplification, exploring the dynamics of social exchange.
this is simply an attempt to frame a fundamental principle — to point out a perceived weakness in the social system. money, as an abstracted social re-presentation of life-energy, is not the thing itself, it is not life-energy. giving money is the substitution of an abstraction for the thing itself. that thing being life-energy or life-time. life-time, defined by the irreversible plunging arrow of time, is a limited commodity. life-energy is the quantity of time convolved with what it takes to stay alive for that time. it takes energy to maintain life for a certain amount of time. a gift is an infusion of life-energy (in some form!) from the Self to the Other. when the Self pays attention to the Other, the Self spends life-time and consequently, life-energy on the Other. the Self then comprehends certain forms of energy that the Other would, could need in their life. an auspicious gift is the providing of this apprehended needful energy to the Other when it is needed. money enters the picture — this abstraction of life-energy and attention — and is substituted for both of those. the Other, receiving money, has to decide how to convert this abstraction back into a source of energy. it is a lonely and life-time-consuming process. it demands of attention and and is void of directed life-energy. it is the converting process that exerts the most seductive appeal. with money one can do anything. can’t one? even to saving life-energy and life-time? not sure about that. giving money to fight poverty places the Self in a quandary.
having noted this, it is clear that operating on this principle would place the Self-Other dynamic in a certain place within the social system, whatever the exchange is. but the dependence on the abstracted sets up the least auspicious form of gift. or is it the most auspicious? uff. another hack job as the corrupt idealist, eh?
it’s probably better to make enough of the stuff on one’s own, then engaged presence can proceed on the basis of … presence alone, with the proper infusion of life-energy. and subsequently give all ones money away…
only after the last tree has been cut down
only after the last river has been poisoned
only after the last fish has been caught
only then will you find that money cannot be eaten
— possible Cree prophesy
or
There was an old lady, from the Cree tribe, named Eyes of Fire, who prophesied that one day, because of the white mans’ or Yo-ne-gis’ greed, there would come a time, when the fish would die in the streams, the birds would fall from the air, the waters would be blackened, and the trees would no longer be, mankind as we would know it would all but cease to exist. There would come a time when the keepers of the legend, stories, culture rituals, and myths, and all the Ancient Tribal Customs would be needed to restore us to health. They would be mankind’s key to survival, they were the Warriors of the Rainbow. — Lelanie Stone
sotto voce (to brainstorms on the XO laptop deployment): And there is the entirely OTHER issue — that of autonomy. The techno-social system (in this example, the entire combined system that is providing the XO) deploys a device, it is not a simple movement of material items or even socio-cultural values (although that is the lever of most of the critique IMHO). It is also the tying in of that distant Other into that larger techno-social system — as soon as they begin using that device. The tying-in has a complex range of affects on the individual using the device. (Alluding to the attention issue, Howard) When that remote other begins to pay attention to the device (spending life-time which equals life-energy) they are removing that attention from a more local framework, and giving that attention/energy to the larger techno-social system. One consequence is that they become dependent on that system, another is that the system consumes that life energy in order to maintain itself (by the nature of a techno-social system). The distant Other is more-or-less bound into this relationship simply by using the device (independent of ideology or purpose!). The dependency expresses itself in an incremental loss in personal autonomy. If the device, now incorporated in the Other’s life, does not function, the Other is in immediate and critical dependency on that larger system. This fact alone is directly counter to the idea, for example, of locally relevant use of the device and goes a long way to suppress the construction of locally relevant learning ‘solutions’ as this deep nature of the device is very ‘corrupting’ (brings in all the values of that larger techno-social system)…
Prior to the introduction of such a device, there are greater possibilities (not necessarily happening, though, I will admit) of locally/individually relevant knowledge-building.
I am probably way too cynical at this point in life, based on experiential observation, though, to think that anything can ‘stop’ this globalized spread of the techno-social system. No political agenda has much power, no national government, no special-interest groups… it seems to be a bulldozer of humanity rolling ahead.
So, what to do? The only solution that I see is the reminding that all this system is built on the fundamental of granular f-2-f encounters of humans and we have to pay deep attention to the local Other first and foremost and definitely BEFORE engaging in the highly mediated techno-social dance of engaging the distant Other.
I apologize, I am sitting alone in a small flat in Berlin typing to you. I do not know my neighbors. I do not, in the moment, practice what I preach. We are already far down the road, soon (I see this in my students) we will forget where we came from. I will continue to remind them and myself. I’ll go meet a friend in a cafe in a couple hours…
catching up with the kids to see how they grow. and plenty of chances to participate in the raptor hunting/feeding events despite the icy snow and such weather that I’m not so used to.
prepping to leap? or to merely stand still, justly, or, perhaps, verily. I do say unto you. all these texts and images. 2007 will be the peak year for the neoscenes travelog. it can’t become a more time-consumptive project, or, god-help-me, it’ll end up nah’ good for da body in this in-car-nation. counting the hours? counting the ROI (return-on-investment)? the social benefits that arise from this work? practically infinite for the first question, practically zero for the last two. and with significant chunks of life-time going in to this, and nothing coming out from it. why-oh-why do I persist? bulldog jaw spasms onto the carotid.
The act of seeing (active) gradually changing in the act of looking (passive) is exactly what modern global capitalism is doing with human mankind. By replacing the means to create a life (rurality, agriculture, self-protecting, autocratic societies) with the means to earn a life (industries, labour, rent, mortgage, salary, funeral insurance), the emphasis slowly drifts from the active sense to the passive sense. This is exemplified by the way the internet developed from a research instrument to an entertainment device. In this process which lasted a surprisingly short time of about ten years, the presence of the web turned from a small interesting peer-to-peer group to a huge beast of millenarian proportions. The monster as the natural companion of a gigantic destroyer. The spider’s web is eyeing the world , the eye lost its vision and is multiplied inwardly on a enormous scale , blinded by its own image like the drowning men filming their own drowning in a drowning world. — A. Andreas (cited from nettime)
I was a co-curator again this year for the annual netarts.org 2007 awards. it was a tough year for finding fresh takes under our call for works:
Embodied Praxis – Real Life 2.0
For those of us who use the net, watch TV or SMS friends, we find that we tend to spend a lot of our time peering into one screen or another during our waking hours. Changing images float in front of our eyes as the disruptive sounds and jingles of our prosthetic devices keep us under the spell of the network. Texts flow into focus for as long as we need to retain them, and just as effortlessly gush out again through our fingertips into the ether.
Embodied Praxis – Real Life 2.0 draws on these telematic interactions and examines how art and artists take up these strands and weave them into daily life. However, the projects showcased will not dwell on the ways in which these digital traces are drawn from our lived lives rather they will manifest how our real lives are constructed around these embedded threads; and how their telematic substance is injected into the praxis of daily life.
The projects selected (will) track those nomadic flows as they are propelled across borders and through different languages; producing scenarios – political, commercial and cultural – that net those fluctuating moments in new and distinct cultural spaces. Although we recognize that these specific moments – such as sending/receiving an SMS or a real time interaction in Second Life are primarily transitory in their essence and serve more to de-localize us in non-spaces than locate us in embodied space – we also acknowledge the ways in which these concrete threads actively constitute the social self and, by association, serve to construct the complex fabric of Real Life.
and I wasn’t consistently online to be able to focus as well as I should have, but even still there were some nice projects to be seen, and the honorable-mention list is very interesting.
Again, a complex year for net art, looking at the divergent and still diverging fields of creative production within global networks. This year’s criteria of “Embodied Praxis” was complicated by the arrival of the much-hyped Second Life on the main-stream media stage. But material and very human networking trumped the attenuated virtuality of SL. Making a functional parody of globalized capitalism, Feral Trade seeks to stimulate a direct distribution network that follows the connections of existing social networks. It takes advantage of the un-mediated plurality of human networks and personal connections and constructs a direct affront to the anonymous standardization of global trade. It opens a small crack in the facade of globalization where autonomous collective be-ing can be activated. As a classic example of a TAZ (Temporary Autonomous Zone), I hope it takes hold to become a permanent presence that de-powers the dominant and monolithic capitalist structure. At the very least, it points out the deep lack in that structure, and this is a critical starting point for evolutionary changes in human relation.
This project emerges out of the long-term network practice of artist Isabelle Jenniches who has in the past worked in a wide variety of creative net-based activities. The particular piece, “The Call” is one of several process-oriented projects she has initiated that depend on the availability of generic user-controlled Internet web-cams. The works are constructed over a long period of time — time spent watching the selected scenario, remotely — life-time spent observing the world. Thousands of images are made during a methodological process of deep-looking through this mediated network eye. The extended seeing and repetitive digital stitching operations on the thousands of gathered images acts to frame a meditative daily routine. The cumulative practice approaches the classical Zen expression — “there is no web-cam, there is no PhotoShop, there is only the Void” — and it arises through the post-Cartesian possibilities of a commonly accessible network interface. Formally recalling David Hockney’s early Polaroid SX-70 time-space collage work, “The Call” is an intimate and intense personal vision of a scope rarely manifest in the click-through eye-candy world of the net.
The latch handles on both the driver- and passenger-side door are broken. There is a certain geometry on the plastic lever-arm which, over time of repeated lifting motions, fails. So I have to replace them. The truck is relatively old, compared to the average age of vehicles on the road. I call the Toyota dealer nearby, and they want almost USD100 for each replacement handle. This is called an OEM part — Original Equipment Manufactured — a part which carries some of the branded weight of the maker and its record of quality along with a premium price (including a substantial markup to underwrite the existence of the dealer distribution system). Too much! I knew this would be the case before I called, but I wanted to set a ceiling price before looking elsewhere, online. This particular vehicle model was globally a widely-distributed frame, body, and engine combination and so there turns out to be a substantial non-OEM parts market. The only question is one of quality. Non-OEM parts online appear to be both Mainland Chinese- and Taiwanese-made with what seems to be a substantial US distribution presence in the form of highly discounted warehouses designed for online mail-order sales (with Ebay, Amazon, and their own web sales presence). I find the parts, in several styles (chromed plastic and black) for a small fraction of the OEM cost, USD 20 with free shipping. 
