Anywhere
viii
Anywhere
Art at the
Outermost
Limits of
LocationSpecificity
viii
Anywhere viii
FRONT MATTER
iv
Foreword
Professor Su Baker AM
vi
Foreword
Anne Gaines
viii
Introduction
Simone Douglas and Sean Lowry
pROjEcTs
04 Navigating Digital Landscapes
Amber Eve Anderson
08
A Thing You Could Repeat to Yourself
if You Wanted
Archie Barry
10
The Missing Album
Joanne Choueiri
14
In Memory of Water, Towards a Poetry
of the Unimagined
Shoufay Derz
18
Collective Intelligence | the Ecological
Stewardship of Honeybees
Mark Gardner
22
The Essence of Fashion
Adam Geczy
26
Live Stream
Christine Howard Sandoval
30
Cups of Nun Chai
Alana Hunt
34
I feel like trying. I mean crying.
LungA School
40
New Hypothetical Continents:
Experimenting with U/Dystopia
Benjamin Matthews
46
Technās Tranquil Submission:
On Being Spoken
Nancy Mauro-Flude
52
Parsons X Hela X Unfpa Lifecycle
Undergarment Project
Brendan McCarthy & Isobel Webster
56
On Drawing
Ana Mendes
60
#exstrange: A Curatorial Intervention
on eBay
Rebekah Modrak & Marialaura Ghidini
64
The Grid
Annie Morrad & Ian McArthur
70
And The World Will Be As One
Jacob Olmedo
74
In the Wake of Museul Whiteness
Macushla Robinson
78
Matsushima Bunko Museum
Ryota Sato
82
Textiles as Art, Culture, and Science:
Discovery of the Ephemeral and Perennial
Imprints Through Modeled Ecosystem
Luciana Scrutchen
88
The Common Ground of Light and Dark
Leela Shanker
92
What Happens if Tommy Lee Jones
Doesn’t Write Back?
Mark Shorter
96
Filming a Quasi-Fictional Cartographic
Landscape and Other Absurd Methods:
Typographic Landscape Ecologies,
Alameda, Ca, USA
Joshua Singer
100 Three Conversations
Bird Closet
(SOIL SERIES: A Social Drawing)
106 Elsewhere / Tomorrow
Kaspar Stöbe + Nicolò Krättli
112
High Island Circumambulation
Andrew Stooke
116
The Cubby Cave; the Raft; the Return
Threshold; and Sun, Moon, Walk
Shan Turner- Carroll
120 Ris Publica
Jessica Winton
124
Walking With Satellites
Christopher Wood
ENd MATTER
128 Bios
134
Editors
The publication was designed and printed
on the lands of the Boonwurung and
Wurundjeri people of the Eastern Kulin
nation. CoVA / University of Melbourne
would like to acknowledge that we work on
land belonging to the world’s longest living
continuous cultures, and that sovereignty
was never ceded.
Foreword
iv
We congratulate the
artists and writers
and all participants
The Centre of Visual Art (CoVA) is proud to partner with Parsons Fine Art (Parsons School of
Design, The New School) on Anywhere viii and to celebrate our new partnership with Parsons
Fine Art. CoVA is a joint project between colleagues at the Faculty of the Fine Arts and Music
and the Faculty of Arts School of Culture and Communication and is a new nexus of visual
arts study fostering innovative research, collaborative projects and fertile exchanges across
various university facilities and with international partners such as Parsons, The New School.
Both contemporary and historically-minded, CoVA charts the changing climates of local
and international visual art practice and pedagogy, acknowledging and foregrounding the
unresolved cultural and geopolitical conditions into which it arrives, on the traditional lands
of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. New knowledge will be discovered and applied
through this lens, forging global connections from within our Asia-Pacific region and beyond,
thus influencing fundamental discussions in art and design practice, art history and writing,
curating and arts management. We congratulate the artists and writers and all participants
and look forward sharing to the multiple modes of experience contained in this issue.
PROFESSOR SU BAKER AM
Pro-Vice Chancellor Engagement & Director,
Centre of Visual Arts CoVA | Victorian College of the Arts |
Faculty of the Fine Arts and Music | University Of Melbourne
v
Foreword
vi
We celebrate these
generative thinkers
and creators
The School of Art, Media, and Technology at Parsons School of Design is so pleased to
continue to support the thriving partnership with the Centre of Visual Art in the Victorian
College of the Arts at the University of Melbourne for this third volume of Anywhere. There
is a deep commitment through this collaboration to uncover and investigate larger questions
regarding human life on earth through a range of interdisciplinary practices in a global context.
There is an investment in raising consciousness for life, society and culture with a mind
towards transcending the known. We celebrate these generative thinkers and creators that
you will encounter in this volume and their work across hybrid approaches to practice, their
challenges to current limitations and progress towards the future of practices.
ANNE GAINES
Dean for the School of Art, Media, and Technology
Parsons School of Design
vii
Anywhere viii
Simone
Douglas
and
Artistic research, like the world of a work of art,
can be accessed and represented in numerous ways
in its uneven passages from conception through
production to dissemination.
Sean
Lowry
viii
Artists and curators have long reached beyond the constraints of established institutional
structures and traditional exhibition spaces. These tendencies were first clearly articulated
(with some notable historical avant-garde precedents) in the language that framed conceptual
and systems-based art in the 1960s and 1970s. The focus then, as it is today, was upon locating
or creating alternative circuits. Today, notwithstanding our significantly technologically
augmented capacity to reach and create new audiences, much contemporary artistic activity
still invariably plays directly to an audience of connected peers. Moreover, given that much
of this activity is now documented and disseminated as it happens through its surrounding
peer network, the robustness of documentation and critical discussion can become easily
distorted. Consequently, an inherent correlation to social acceptance and favorability can
limit our capacity to meaningfully evaluate quality, and often excludes contributions outside
a core group. Also, given that much art now shares media with other databases and websites,
algorithmically driven perceptions of popularity can further influence ways in which art is
evaluated, interpreted and valued. This situation invariably presents challenges to artists and
curators seeking to establish new audiences or disseminate ideas.
For many contemporary artists, the often asymmetrically invested power wielded by traditional institutional
models and globally mobile “super” curators can be problematic. Consequently, it is more important than
ever to create alternative vehicles for selecting, evaluating, and disseminating advanced art. Undeniably, using
technology to engage with communities of interest is as much the domain of everyday life as it is art. Project
Anywhere, which was founded in 2012, is promoted online through artistic and institutional networks as a
global blind peer reviewed exhibition program dedicated to art and artistic research at the outermost limits of
location-specificity. Although Project Anywhere is primarily communicated via a dedicated website and related
online networks, it is not an online exhibition model. It is instead a vehicle presented through the Internet as
an exhibition comprising the entire globe in which the role of curator is replaced with a blind peer evaluation
system. With no curatorial imperative to develop specific thematic orientations, this radical curator-less
approach is specifically designed to suit highly speculative and often radically transcategorical artistic projects
potentially located anywhere and elsewhere in space and time.
At the cessation of Project Anywhere’s annual hosting period, all projects are considered
eligible (irrespective as to any demonstrated capacity to meet proposed objectives) for
inclusion in our biennial conference Anywhere and Elsewhere, which is held at Parsons School of
Design in New York. Interestingly, it is at this juncture that a form of curatorship is introduced
to the mix. This free two-day event features presentations from artists that have successfully
navigated blind peer evaluation through Project Anywhere, together with a complementary
selection of invited presentations from established artists, curators and writers.
Following the conference, participants are invited to develop material for our biennial
series titled Anywhere. This issue is the third in that series. Like its predecessors, Anywhere
viii features contributions ranging from scholarly texts to photo essays to annotated diagrams
and graphic illustrations (or indeed any other page-based representation that points toward
artistic projects located anywhere and elsewhere in space and time.). Considered together,
Project Anywhere, Anywhere and Elsewhere, and Anywhere all seek to locate alternative reflective
moments in the often-uneven process from conception through production to dissemination
in artistic research.
Today, new artistic and curatorial approaches are emerging in tandem with digitallyactivated modes of presentation and dissemination distinguished by perpetual reproducibility,
ix
multiple intersecting temporalities and materializations, and the subsidence of physical space.
Significantly, many of these approaches are no longer necessarily connected to singular events
or spaces and are perhaps better understood as omnidirectional movements between modes
of conception, production and dissemination connected through the screen as a communal
space. This communal space might offer either access to new works, illuminate the existence
of works understood to be elsewhere in time and space, or offer multiple or alternative
materializations, versions, attributions, interpretations and representations of existing
works. Artistic research can be represented in multiple ways as it moves between modes of
conception, production and dissemination. This volume explores a broad range of questions
associated with presenting, experiencing, discussing and evaluating art located anywhere and
elsewhere in space and time. We are delighted to welcome you to the many worlds contained
within Anywhere viii.
SIMONE DOUGLAS AND SEAN LOWRY
x
1
Projects
2
3
Navigating Digital
Landscapes
Amber Eve Anderson
Caribbean Paradise, 2016,
Screen capture
of publicly-uploaded
Google Maps image,
1920 x 1080 pixels
Amber Eve
Anderson
Digital technology is significantly altering the ways in which we
experience place and the real world. Through the internet, we can
travel anywhere without leaving the comfort of our own home.
4
Google Maps, specifically, has had a major impact on the ways in which we explore new
places. While traditional paper maps force the user to insert oneself into an existing
landscape, services like Google Maps situate the user as a dot in the middle of a digital map
that is constructed from the center outwards. This has a profound impact on the way we
conceptualize ourselves in terms of the spaces we inhabit, as well as how we navigate those
1 Lohr, Steve.
places. We are constantly locating ourselves, but we don’t really know where we are.
“Facial Recognition
When I moved to Rabat in 2014, the capital city of Morocco, it was the first time I had
is Accurate, if
lived abroad since purchasing an iPhone 4 the previous year. As a late adopter of this handheld
You’re a White
Guy.” The New York
technology, I was acutely aware of how accustomed I had become to following the course
Times at nytimes.
dictated by my device. In Rabat—a city new to me with a limited digital landscape—navigation
com, https://
www.nytimes.
was a matter of trial and error. I would often go to the nearest corner, board a bus heading
com/2018/02/09/
toward the city center, and hope it didn’t make any unexpected turns. When I attempted to
technology/facialrecognition-racepreview my route using Google Street View, I discovered it didn’t exist in Morocco.
artificial-intelligence.
In the United States, most cities—from New York to Baltimore to Omaha—are so
html. Accessed April
15, 2019.
thoroughly documented on Google Street View that the blue lines indicating represented
streets become solid shapes, and it is the undocumented areas that stand in contrast to the
2 Debord, Guy.
“Introduction
rest. These absences are equally as important as their counterparts. In cities like Rabat, where
to a Critique of
Google has not mapped the terrain, Google relies on its users to publicly upload 360-degree
Urban Geography.”
The Library at
Street View images. In these places, small blue dots on the digital map indicate user-uploaded
nothingness.org,
content. The result of such a practice prioritizes a city seen through an outsider’s lens, one in
http://library.
nothingness.org/
which tourist destinations are documented first and more frequently than the rest of the city.
articles/SI/en/
This is not unlike facial recognition software that struggles to recognize facial features
display/2. Accessed
August 26, 2016.
of people with darker skin tones1 or that cannot account for smaller eyes. The development of
the internet through a western lens leaves gaping holes in both experience and understanding.
Using Google Street View’s app, anyone with a smartphone can document and publicly upload a 360-degree
image anywhere in the world. From a single position, the app directs users to spin in a circle, pausing on
orange dots in order to capture 41 still images that are then stitched together to form a “sphere.” If the user
fails to capture the entire surroundings, for example, looking overhead or underfoot, Google leaves the area
undocumented. In such instances, a black circle looms. In my own publicly-uploaded image of Bab al-Had,
one of the entrances to the old city in Rabat, a black circle stands in for the sky directly overhead that I failed to
photograph. Mine is not the only glitched image in the sky over Morocco. Upon making this discovery, I looked
through all of the other publicly-uploaded images on Google Street View in Rabat and discovered 60 others
with black holes in the sky overhead. Using my smartphone, I took screenshots of every black hole, printed the
collection, and arranged them from the smallest to the largest. While the Google Street View app is undoubtedly
empowering—allowing users to add their own personal experiences to the collective archive—Holes in the Digital
Sphere suggests an increasing absence in one’s experience online, no matter how closely that experience comes
to approximate real life.
In becoming more skeptical of the ways Google prioritizes information, I set out
to disrupt the usual means of navigation via digital devices. In “Theory of the Dérive,”
(dérive meaning “drift” in French), Guy Debord encouraged pedestrians to navigate urban
terrain through observation of one’s surroundings and the resulting impulses.2 Debord’s
work took visual form in non-traditional maps that spliced urban centers into disconnected
pieces, strung together by meandering, roundabout arrows. Navigation and walking itself
became fertile territory for investigation. Building upon this historical precedent, Views from
5
Paradise calls into question the inherent limitation Google Maps imposes upon one’s impulse
Amber Eve Anderson
Bab al-Had, 2015, Screen capture of
publicly-uploaded 360-degree Google
Street View image, 1680 x 1050 pixels.
Amber Eve Anderson
Holes in the Digital Sphere (detail), 2015,
60 Printed Screen Captures, 15.2 x 640 cms
By traveling to the places of business in Baltimore that use
the word paradise in their name, I conflate a utopian ideal
with a physical reality.
6
to explore. Within the Google Maps interface, step-by-step directions from one location to
another are dependent upon a handful of established variables that prioritize speed, cost,
or efficiency. When used as a navigational tool, one is less likely to get lost, encounter the
unexpected, or even look around.
The word paradise represents a place of perfection or escape, conjuring images of
sunsets and shorelines. An initial Google search of the word yields a row of these types of
images, a song by Coldplay, a 2013 movie, a Wikipedia entry, and an image of Google Maps
with various pins and business names: Paradise Nails, Paradise Inn, Paradise Fragrances,
etc. Whereas one would typically begin with a known destination in Google Maps, here, the
idea of paradise is the starting point, rather than the end result. Using language as a means
of navigation within the Google Maps interface upsets the usual expectations of encounter
and exploration.
By traveling to the places of business in Baltimore that use the word paradise in their name, I conflate a utopian
ideal with a physical reality. My starting point was Caribbean Paradise at 1818 N. Charles St, a “compact, threestory eatery with a low-key vibe offering Caribbean dishes, cocktails, and reggae.” In visiting these places, I step
beyond the reach of Google Maps and Street View into the undocumented. From inside, I redirect the gaze from
the street looking in, to the visitor looking out, a behavior typical of visitors to “paradise,” but a perspective
otherwise absent from Google Street View. The implication of redirecting the gaze is to reach beyond the realm
of that which a device can depict. By publicly-uploading the images, I am constructing a new archive of an urban
paradise. The search itself and the act of documentation are performative acts of meandering, ones that anyone
with an internet connection searching Google Maps for these places of business may come across, and that will
outlast the places of business themselves.
The “paradisiacal” reality that I discovered in Baltimore was far more dystopian than
I had imagined. Shortly after I began my exploration, Caribbean Paradise closed for business,
and as I continued my search, I discovered other businesses either closed, or in abandoned
neighborhoods next to boarded up row houses. Baltimore is a city in which income inequality
and systemic racism are prominently on display. Most of the physical locations of paradise
were disheartening. After visiting only three locations—the Jamaican restaurant, a bar, and
a mini mart—I abandoned my idea, feeling voyeuristic in that the discrepancy between the
imagined and the reality was too great. I explored the remaining locations of paradise from
afar, using Google Maps and Street View, thus upending my own intentions that this project
would be a useful means for physical exploration. Instead, I purposefully used the interface
of Google Maps to distance myself from those places.
Holes in the Digital Sphere and Views from Paradise expose the divide between actual
experience and virtual experience, creating new knowledge for navigating space in the
digital era. These works call into question the effect of the digital world on everyday life
by upsetting the usual means of interaction. They are a subversive means to critique
contemporary methods of navigation, using poetics to navigate digital spaces and to
inspire exploration beyond the linear.
7
A Thing You
Could Repeat
to Yourself if
You Wanted
Archie
Barry
8
Vocab picnic in my mind. Whatever you attend to becomes safe.
DSM feeling proud of declassifying people who never believed in its nomenclature.
Fuzzy eavesdropping for mondegreens on public transport, “mummy likes it when
daddy is a wife too.”
Listening to the tone and not the words. Reading the arm movements for feelings.
Being quiet doesn’t always mean going unheard, some people learn to listen.
Doggo memes/language ecologies about beings who don’t use that language.
Being so obsessive that I stop comprehending the definition of obsession.
Violent comments on yiff compilations.
To make the point of literacy become a fluency in crumpling words.
I believe onomatopoeia can give us something other than metaphor and irony.
I have a suspicion that portmanteau can cut us but can’t deliver us. I want deliverance.
Somehow restrict the dominant hand.
~
Susceptible to bitrot and autocorrect, made from insignificant quantities of vibrating air
that disperse at their very moment of becoming. Defenceless against deletion, erasure, shifts
in spelling and meaning. Getting misheard, mispronounced and misspelled, I want to feel
the vulnerability of words. ‘Cute’ used to mean acute and cunning, now it means endearing
youthful softness. Cuteness is a fleecy way of living, not about power, no voice, no command.
~
Words get less wordy when they are sung, rhythm makes words legible to bodies. Sometimes
I feel like dancing is language getting digested in my body, remembering some good digestion
amid strangers in dark spaces on hard wood floors, remembering getting bashed up too and
the way that it’s impossible to speak afterwards. Take the air out of the body, take the words
out of the body.
~
Even with air words never seem to fully form, and a thing that is unformed is vulnerable.
We are words in the way we say, “I am [proper noun]”, but it’s the body that lends that noun
the classification of proper. The first time I heard someone ask to be called “it” I felt mildly
anxious, and after some time it was a gift. Redesignating words to soften the object/subject
divide is a simple way of questioning agency and ownership. Saying something makes it so,
but only if you repeat it in a timely way to people with the prior neural training to consider it.
~
Here are some words invented within the ecology of my family, they don’t get spoken anymore
because my family is dispersed. Berf, wef, snurf, birrel, caramel-sue, caramel-k, boysie.
~
I practice making excellent words, I practice making them excel. I want them to get tired.
I want some words to be the moment before now? To practice making words come
when I want them, they never really arrive, and they never do nothing.
9
The Missing
Album
Joanne Choueiri
Collection of scanned
sketches of interviewees as
part of I did not grow up in
a war: Chapter 02, 2015,
presented at Piet Zwart
Graduate Exhibition
in Rotterdam, the
Netherlands
Joanne
Choueiri
The Missing Album is an ongoing project that attempts to gather
an archive of photographs of Lebanese people living / hiding in
their homes during the Beirut Civil War (1975–1990).
10
LEBANON (2015 – )
The project serves as a continuation of a larger project “I did not grow up in a war”—which
has investigated memories through a series of audio testimonials of Lebanese people in
their houses during the war. As part of this project, the importance of safety and survival
within the domestic interior and its particular rooms (bathroom, entrance hall, kitchen…)
were foregrounded. Consequently, individual memories merge into collective memory, and
questions pertaining to the state of the home and its interior during the war—especially with
the absence of an equipped bomb shelter—are raised. The Missing Album is a tool to shape
collective memory and discuss whether any photographic archive exists showcasing the
states of these families within these rooms.
1 Karl Sharro, K.
(2013). Warspace:
The Lebanese civil war, which spanned 15 years, had an enormous impact on Lebanon.
Geographies of conflict
The conflict involved different local and foreign political parties, all brutally fighting amongst
in Beirut. [online]
openDemocracy.
each other for territorial power. Behind these scenes that took place on the streets of Beirut
https://www.
and extended onto its suburbs, families took shelter in their homes. Within this context,
opendemocracy.net/
opensecurity/karlLebanese writer and architect Karl Sharro discusses importance of the house: “At the next
sharro/warspacelevel, the smallest units of society, the family and the individual, and correspondingly, the
geographies-ofconflict-in-beirut
smallest spatial unit, the house, will increase in definition and clarity at the expense of the
[Accessed 4 Aug.
public realm”.1 In this sense, Sharro, highlighted the value of the home as a safe locale, and
2016].
the only remnant of the urban when all else—the public space, the space of battlefield—has
been utterly destroyed. This project focuses on these stories of survival when the house
becomes the only space of safety.
The Missing Album was an idea that emerged during many hours spent looking at war photographs in
the development of “I did not grow up in a war”. It soon became clear that there was a profound lack of l
photographic documentation of everyday life during the conflict. Significantly, “I did not grow up in a war”
arose from a need for a deeper understanding of what was occurring behind closed doors in the house. Each
person shared a story about a room of the house that closely relates to the war, serving as a starting point for
their plot. Taking on the role of the therapist, a series of questions were posed, followed by a drawing session
that led the interviewees to delve deeper into their memories giving off more of a physical account of the story.
The testimonials that were registered as audio files and drawings erase the importance of the person’s identity,
and instead focus on the similarities of the stories being accounted for. The project manifested through several
chapters creating different interpretations of war. The first chapter contextualized the conflict through a series
of archival material from newspaper clippings and written memoirs to photographs, creating poetic associations
between image and text. The second chapter introduces the audio-recorded interviews through a collection of
images of rooms drawn by the interviewees alongside their accompanying written transcripts (see Fig.1).
The third chapter is based solely on audio transcripts. Theses recorded narratives
consisted of a grafted polyphony of individuals addressing different areas of the house that
most strongly marked their memories. Individual memories thus combine and describe the
state of each room during the war, especially with the absence of an equipped bomb shelter
(See: https://vimeo.com/133825891 )
The interviews I conducted shed light on specific rooms of the house—such as the
bathroom, the entrance hall, and the bomb shelter (given their strategic placement within
the home). These safe rooms were typically placed between two walls with minimal glass
facades (given ever-present danger of conflict). Through these narratives, methods of necessary
adaptation became obvious. In some instances, people built walls out of concrete blocks in
11
their entrance halls to save themselves from any glass breaking. In others they used sand bags
Joanne Choueiri
Mother preparing to give her daughter a
shower in a red tub while family watches,
1983, Photograph, Beirut, Lebanon
Joanne Choueiri
Group of people gathering around a column
hiding in the underground parking lot, 1986,
Photograph, Beirut, Lebanon
The archival process began by asking 35 interviewees for photographs
of their safe spaces. Of these 35 interviewees, only two were able to
find photographical evidence of their spaces during the war.
12
These images help to reveal moments within the 15-year Lebanese
civil war that point toward the possibility of creating an archive of
memories of the home during wartime.
2 Soha Abou Taha
(2015). “Ce qui s’est
passé le 13 avril 1975
? Je n’en ai aucune
idée” L’Orient le Jour.
p.2. Print
13
to cast themselves away from any potential danger. Some closed off an entire neighbourhood
using their cars to protect their new-found home. The home and the various interior changes
that occurred to it become the sole witness of each family’s survival. Locked in the memories
of Lebanese people’s minds, the project seeks to uncover the main protagonists, the toilet, the
entrance hall, the hallways, the kitchen, the stairs, and the bedroom.
The Missing Album seeks to illuminate the role of the home during wartime. It attempts
to gather and collect photographs of the spaces of survival from people within homes and
associated forms of shelter. As part of the 40th anniversary of the Lebanese Civil War in 2015,
journalist Soha Abou Taha’s “Ce qui s’est passé le 13 avril 1975 ? Je n’en ai aucune idée”
(What happened on the 13th of April 1975? I have no idea) reflected upon the ignorance of
younger Lebanese towards the war.2 Given that the Lebanese Civil War is a national taboo, and
no agreed historical account exists in the national educational system, citizens clearly prefer
to ignore their shared history. With this in mind, this project has sought to create a more
intimate and less explicitly politicized portrait of the conflict—that is, one that shares stories of
witness and survival from within the home. The collection of such photographs in The Missing
Album provides an opportunity to tell stories of the house and might highlight its importance
within the context of war. Moreover, it might give way to the formation of a cross-generational
collective memory set within the home.
The archival process began by asking 35 interviewees for photographs of their safe
spaces. Of these 35 interviewees, only two were able to find photographical evidence of their
spaces during the war. Figure 2 depicts an image of a child ready to take her shower in the
red bucket, with her mother huddled up around her, together with other family members.
Tellingly, the interviewee explained that the bedroom needed to be moved to the entrance
hall, as it was considerably safer. It was quite normal for kids to be washed in these buckets in
the shielded space of an entranceway. Figure 3 shows a group of smiling youngsters cramped
up around a white column. What is not evident in the photograph is that the people were
all grouped in an underground parking space because their houses were exposed from all
directions and did not have any bomb shelter. Their only safe space was a 20-minute walk away
to a nearby shopping centre’s underground parking. These examples, although few in number,
reflect upon the idea of the home and questions what a home is at times of war. In the first
example, the entrance hall became the place for bathing, eating, and gathering. In the second,
a vast parking lot shared with strangers had become home.
These images help to reveal moments within the 15-year Lebanese civil war that point
toward the possibility of creating an archive of memories of the home during wartime. It is
indeed likely that few would think to take photographs in a state of war, especially with the
lack of digital photography at the time. This leads to a broader question: does the Lebanese
population have little or no photographic evidence of their home lives between 1975 and
1990 (notwithstanding that this was the only relatively safe haven)? If that is the case, how
might this affect the identity of the nation (given the role of the photograph as a tool for both
individual memory and the collective archive)?
In Memory of Water,
Towards a Poetry of
the Unimagined
Now the earth was without form and void,
and darkness was upon the face of the deep.
And the spirit moved upon the face of the waters.
—Eleanor Wilner, “Reading the Bible Backwards,” in Reversing the Spell,
(Port Townsend: Copper Canyon Press, 1997).
I will have spent my life trying to understand the function
of remembering, which is not the opposite of forgetting,
but rather its lining. We do not remember, we rewrite
memory much as history is rewritten.
How can one remember thirst?
—Chris Marker, Sans Soleil
Shoufay
Derz
Shoufay Derz’s practice is concerned with the limits and
possibilities of language and the ambiguities faced when
attempting to visually articulate the edges of the known.
14
Shoufay Derz
Ritual for the Death of the Reef, 2018,
Photography by Shoufay Derz
Documentation of UTS Pedagogical
exploration at the School of Architecture:
Factory of Hyper-ecologies (2018):
Nathan Chan, Yvette Salmon, Stefanie
Li, Kevin Chuang, Edwin Chin Fai Chon,
Daniel Viglione, Nurul Farra Nadia
Binti Zaed, Perry Cheang, Alice Pui Sze
Ng, Roger Miranda, Tina Bao Ngoc Le,
Nitika Duggal, Thi Thanh Mai Phan,
Kate Harding, Rhys Collins under the
supervision of Amaia Sánchez-Velasco
(Grandeza Studio) and Shoufay Derz.
15
Just as the writer uses words to express the ineffable, her practice engages the intersections
between known and unknown worlds. Deeply engaged with poetic potentiality her projects
attempt to connect the silences in language with holes in social, structural and geological
landscapes to contemplate the voids of history and also the uncertainties of future landscapes.
The resultant, elegiac artworks are simultaneously a lament on the transience of life
and a celebration of its mystery. Recently her performative experiments have played with
Dadaesque tactics of intuition and humour to convey stories of exclusion and collectivity,
while delving into the transformative possibilities, impossibilities and risks of site-specific
storytelling. In darker times, expressions of joy can be a radical activity.
For the project Ritual for the Death of the Reef, the Great Barrier Reef was presumed dead
and the assembly of ritual participants were given the chance to imagine returning to its once
living biosphere to pay respects through the creation of its memorial. Through the creation
of collective rituals, the work speculated on the role of poetic imagination in the fate of the
biosphere and GBR. The experimental pedological performances at UQ – Heron Island Research
Station were in collaboration with Masters of Architecture Students and Amaia SanchezVelasco, lecturer at the School of Architecture from the University of Technology Sydney.
Shoufay Derz
Ritual for the Death of the Reef, 2018, Photography by
Shoufay Derz. Documentation of UTS Pedagogical
exploration at the School of Architecture: Factory of
Hyper-ecologies (2018): Nathan Chan, Yvette Salmon,
Stefanie Li, Kevin Chuang, Edwin Chin Fai Chon,
Daniel Viglione, Nurul Farra Nadia Binti Zaed, Perry
Cheang, Alice Pui Sze Ng, Roger Miranda, Tina Bao
Ngoc Le, Nitika Duggal, Thi Thanh Mai Phan, Kate
Harding, Rhys Collins under the supervision of Amaia
Sánchez-Velasco (Grandeza Studio) and Shoufay Derz.
16
17
Shoufay Derz
Expulsions, 2018, video-still (2:44 looped)
Collective Intelligence |
the Ecological Stewardship
of Honeybees
Mark Gardner
Tanzania Asali & Nyuki Sanctuary,
2015. Digital Rendering Montage.
© Jaklitsch/Gardner Architects
Mark
Gardner
“Every year faced with life-or-death problems of choosing and
traveling to a new home, honeybees stake everything on a
process that includes collective fact finding, vigorous debate
and consensus building.”
—Thomas D. Seeley, Honeybee Democracy (2010)
18
1 Clementine Deliss,
Manifesto for the
Rights of Access to
Collections, 2018, np
2 Édouard Glissant,
Betsy Wing (trans.)
Poetics of Relation
(Ann Arbor:
University of
Michigan Press,
1997) pp 5–6
19
The Honeybee plays a major role in the local ecology and the biodiversity of its habitat
is directly influenced by good land use planning ⁄ management practices and transparent
governance. In 1997, Tanzania adopted a National Environmental Policy. The rationale was
based on a need assessment to deal with environmental issues on a national scale. Three
key issues were: a) Land degradation reducing the productivity of soils in many parts of the
country, b) Loss of wildlife habitats and biodiversity, threatening the national heritage and
creating an uncertain future for the tourist industry, and c) Deforestation, with forest and
woodland heritage being reduced year by year through clearance for agriculture, wood fuel
and other demands.
The Tanzania Beekeepers Asali and Nyuki Sanctuary, is a honey (asali), bee (nyuki)
education and community center. It is being developed from the strategic partnership of
Follow the Honey, a Boston-based non-profit, and National Beekeeping Supplies, an NGO in
Tanzania with government support. The objective is to bring a collective of Cooperative &
Tribal Beekeepers together, through a new apiary study center, to share information in both
formal and informal ways, exchange beekeeping methods and provide a commercial exchange
of honeybee products. The Sanctuary is intended to be a place to share experiences and
exchange beekeeping methods, production techniques and information about weather, disease,
and micro-finance; as well as provide a place for commerce exchange of local honey & bee
products. The program elements include a centralized harvesting facility for honey extraction
and processing, capable of meeting EU and U.S requirements; a large open-air honey market;
and a study center for education and services to local villages, in support of their beekeeping
activities. By teaching sustainable methods, providing resources and a market for harvested
products, a supportive Tanzanian government hopes to provide a means of economic support
to rural agricultural communities.
By teaching sustainable methods, providing resources and a market for harvested
products, a supportive Tanzanian investment community hopes to providea means of
economic support to rural agricultural communities. The key relationship of people to
pollinators in the global ecological system is straining to keep equilibrium. The systems in
Africa are intact for now but must be managed. A key component of our design advocacy is to
help foster a sense of community, collaboration and improvement through informal and formal
spaces for interaction, learning and sharing an age-old tradition shared across the globe. The
facility is a prototype that could be a replicated in other global locales, where local people
work with stressed bee populations to maintain a biodiverse ecology. The Nyuki Sanctuary is
meant to bring public awareness of the unique ecosystems on Tanzania. There is also a need
to raise awareness of the relationship between development and the environment. The Nyuki
Sanctuary’s mission is to promote that community participation can lead to environmental
action. The members of the cooperative will find that in equitable sharing of the revenue of the
nyuki production will lead to creating a population of environmental stewards. Environmental
stewardship has grown in importance with the intensifying of environmental problems
identified at the issuance of The National Environmental Policy. The twenty years that have
followed have seen population growth around urban centers, deforestation and environmental
degradation. The processing facility will be built for global distribution and all distributive
profits will return to the Sanctuary to encourage and-use policy, conservation, and ecotourism.
The courtyards and cellular pattern facilitates micro-groups to form in discussion and
informal gatherings to exchange experiences and information regarding beekeeping methods,
production techniques, weather, disease, microfinance etc. building upon social fabric that
exists in villages but extending that beyond discrete villages into a larger network of shared
intelligence and contact with the global community.
The construction of this project signifies an important initiative that promotes economic
growth that maintains and honors Tanzania’s rich beekeeping history that is in harmony with
wildlife and land conservation practices. The Tanzania Beekeepers Asali & Nyuki Sanctuary
builds upon the social fabric that exists in villages as the foundation for establishing a larger
network of shared intelligence and contact with the global community – creating an invaluable
resource of support for the agricultural communities throughout the greater region. The
construction will promote the use of formed bricks or rammed earth which will form the
building out of the landscape of a semi-arid landscape. The processing facility will be built for
global distribution and profits will return to the Cooperative Hub to encourage land-use policy,
conservation, and eco-tourism. The courtyards and cellular pattern facilitates micro-groups to
form in discussion and informal gatherings to exchange experiences and information regarding
beekeeping methods, production techniques, weather, disease, micro-finance etc. building
upon social fabric that exists in villages but extending that beyond discrete villages into a
larger network of shared intelligence and contact with the global educational & commercial
community. We are pursuing through our research in Social Practice, Design Advocacy, and
Pilot Program, a transformative and “actionable idealism”.
REFERENCE
Seeley, T. D. (2010). Honeybee Democracy. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
20
21
Mark Gardner
Tanzania Asali & Nyuki Sanctuary,
2015. Digital Rendering Montage.
© Jaklitsch/Gardner Architects
The Essence
of Fashion1
Adam
Geczy
Fashion 101 holds that fashion is an embodied practice. Any
first-timers to the relatively new discipline of fashion theory
do well to start there.
22
Fashion 101 holds that fashion is an embodied practice. Any first-timers to the relatively new
discipline of fashion theory do well to start there. It is also the quality that largely distinguishes
it from other practices, notably art. Conventionally—and this means outside of notable
exceptions such as when clothing and dress are in a museum display—fashion is made to be
worn, to partake in the lived world. Our perception of a garment, when not worn, is as potential
to be worn, and therefore to be incomplete until such wearing takes place. As sociology of
fashion for over a hundred years would have it, fashion is in time and already pregnant in
the word itself is that it is evanescent, passing. For something to be fashionable immediately
suggests that it will be surpassed sometime soon. That is, that something will no longer occupy
the spaces of lived transaction. By contrast, art is a disembodied practice, and it works under
the presumption that it is superior to fashion because while historical, it can continue to
speak of and for that historical moment into perpetuity where past fashion exists as a relic of
something lost.
The perceptive reader will already begin to feel uneasy with this reasoning, which is its extrapolation becomes
more and more shaky. For when viewed historically, fashion can speak as much of its time as a work of art and
can be expressive of the hopes and desires of that time just as effectively. When fashion is divested of the body,
especially when the garment is distinctive in one way or another, it can speak eloquently of the losses of time
and ghosts of imagination. And if fashion is not entirely an embodied practice, nor is art an entirely disembodied
one either. Particularly art from the twentieth century onwards, which has had its share of the body intercepting
it in many ways: not only in artists like Matisse and Picasso designing costumes for Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes, or
Rodchenko’s Constructivist or Balla’s Futurist clothing designs, but also collage itself, in which the material and
literal world inflitrates the abstract realm of art. When we turn to performance art, the differences blur all the
more. With performance, we can argue that in art the premium is placed on the artist and the idea, while with
fashion, the emphasis in largely on the clothing. But more problems arise: with figures like Leigh Bowery or
Andy Warhol, where does the role of art begin and that of fashion end?
If fashion is worn and when that fashion is in fashion, what makes it so? Image. A
fashion in fashion is there to project an image and for the sake of one. It exists against what
was in fashion, the fashion it usurped, and in anticipation of the next thing in fashion. Each
of these fashions may have family resemblances, as indeed most of them have, but each of
them are accompanied by a shift in image, which is to say that what is at play and at stake is
something that is not reducible to the garment, but rather what is made of it, what it projects,
what effect it produces. A stark example of this interplay is when Sharon Stone wore a Gap
T-shirt when she presented at the Oscars in 1996. It is notable because of Sharon Stone as
celebrity wears a garment associated with non-celebrity status at a blue-chip celebrity event.
It is because of the generic nature of the garment that the emphasis turns to the act.
The question, then, is: “fashion, where is it?” To begin, let us turn to an example that
sits outside, or alongside, what is commonly taken to be fashion. performance artist, Marina
Abramovic first performed The Artist is Present at her eponymously titled retrospective at
MoMA from 14 March to 31 May 2010, where she sat and stared at some 1500 people over
700 hours. The simplicity of the act isolated a number of key factors in performance art in
general, and celebrity in particular. Abramovic, an art celebrity in her own right, is ratified,
confirmed, benighted as celebrity once again by dint of her retrospective at MoMA in New
York. It is her presence that matters and it is in asserting her presence that her presence
matters more still, and it is the artwork made from the mattering of her presence that makes
23
the performance about her existence, which in turn, ostensibly at least, is linked to the
1 Some of this
essay contains
excerpts from
Adam Geczy and
Vicki Karaminas,
Fashion Installation:
Body, Space, and
Performance, London
and New York:
Bloomsbury, 2019.
existence of all the people who stare and her and to whom she stares back. The blogger Hari
Kunzru comments that: “On the opening night, Abramovic sat at her table and began her
eye-work. It was like watching the queen receive artworld courtiers. The artist’s presence was
functioning (as you’d expect, given the location and the crowd) within the matrix of specular
2 Hari Kunzru,
contemporary celebrity.”2 At one point in the exhibition, the actor James Franco joins in on
“Marina Abramovic:
the act (the incident is documented on YouTube). His presence adds yet another layer to
The Artist is
an already convoluted conundrum. Far from cancelling one another out, the co-presence
Present”, 12 June,
2010, https://www.
of an art celebrity with a film celebrity boosted the auratic power exponentially, while also
harikunzru.com/
creating a self-feeding circuit of impalpable value-addedness. In short, the events isolated the
marina-abramovicthe-artist-is-present/ quality of perceived quality itself. Nothing was made or achieved except to determinate this
Accessed 3 June,
indeterminate value, which is nothing without audience participation. Celebrity is all about
2019.
consensus about something imponderable and enviable. It must be imponderable because
were to be rationalised it would lose its mystique.
Fashion, like celebrity, is not rooted in the garment itself but rather the garment is but a catalyst to something
beyond it, physically and in time. To accept this is to find that the assertion that fashion is an embodied practice
is insufficient for the signifying chain necessary for fashion to be fashionable. If the essence of fashion is not
limited to the garment itself it is in the surrounding “air” around it, construed as what it evokes. If this be the
case, then perhaps the essence of fashion lies neither in the body nor the garment, but in perfume.
In 1922, around the time of the first production of that institution of perfume, Chanel
No. 5, before its official release, Gabriel “Coco” Chanel ordered it to be sprayed at regular
intervals throughout her boutique, creating a seductive haze. Ever the canny entrepreneur,
the strategy also attuned the olfactory senses which would be alerted once presented with
the perfume in earnest, the subliminal familiarity engendering an irresistible urge to have it.
Filling the boutique full of scent was also a gesture that would turn the observing, choosing,
and buying of her designs into something more of a discrete experience. But there was yet
another dimension to the perfume that would influence many if not all fashion houses in its
wake. With the introduction of synthetic aldehydes, the prices of original essence s could
off-set substantially, creating an even greater profit margin. The profit margin for modern-day
perfumes far outstrips that of the clothes they are meant to accessorise. And it is common
for a brand to begin first as a fragrance, which is followed by the more costly physical goods
itself—Tommy Hilfiger is one such example. Fashion begins as something indescribable, as a
seductive allusion, before the garments and the bodies are brought to bear upon it. As with
Schiaparelli with Shocking although on a much larger scale, it was the sales of Chanel No. 5 that
kept Chanel financially solvent during the war years, when fashion markets slumped to almost
nothing. (And that was only based on her 10% share.)
As a result, perfume became the centrepiece when Viktor&Rolf launched their first
“collection” in 1996. Simply titled Launch, the centrepiece was Viktor and Rolf Le Perfum, an
empty perfume bottle that could not be opened. The launch had all the same hype and fanfare
as any regular luxury perfume form a commercial house: an aggressive marketing campaign,
press releases, and luxury packaging. But there was no scent. Viktor & Rolf were making an
emphatic statement of the ways in which the fashion world was built around the immaterial,
around desire, whim, novelty and a groundless promise of something to come, but which is
never materially present. Starting with the ubiquity and finality of the name itself Le
Parfum was in many respects the pure perfume, the distillation of the perfume industry
24
which rested in suggestion, as the accompanying blurb maintained: “The perfume
The launch had all the same hype and fanfare as any regular luxury
perfume form a commercial house: an aggressive marketing campaign,
press releases, and luxury packaging. But there was no scent.
can neither evaporate nor give off its scent, and will forever be a potential: pure promise.”3
Fulfilling the prophecy and in fact “completing” the work, the Ersatz perfume nonetheless
3 Cit. http://www.
basenotes.net/
sold
out. Unlike other commercial perfumes, the contents were cost-free, but like commercial
ID26123491.html/
perfumes the costs of packaging and marketing outstripped the perfume itself. Perfume is
accessed 22 May,
2019
a marketer’s dream, since the powers of evocation and association are extreme: a pleasant
smell can be married to any celebrity or scenario. Because of this, Viktor & Rolf could be
said to have brought the condition of modern perfume, that is, its indissolubility to the
narrative experience and the commercial image, to its foregone conclusion. The void, was the
ontological essence of perfume itself, the distillation of perfume per se to its basest elements
of imagination and desire. It was an unforeseen, audacious, but in retrospect completely
understandable intervention on the perfume industry that drew attention to the pre-existent
qualities of perfume as an instrument of the commodity market, and the very proof of Marx’s
gnomic statement that “all that is solid melts into air”.
Fashion, then, is delivered to us in the manifold types of images which give the fashion its broader “image”.
Always transient and contextual, fashion installation places the viewer in an interrogative relation, so that the
consumer is made to feel like a participant in an active speculation as to where he or she fits within the particular
fashion scenario. This is perhaps why perfume plays such a large part in fashion’s life. Coco Chanel’s ten percent
share in No. 5 made her a rich woman, and Schiaparelli was saved financially by her own fragrance when Dior his
generation dominated the postwar era. Marcel Rochas is no longer remembered for his gowns but as fragrance.
When we review the roll call of famous top-end fashion designers, from Tom Ford to Oscar de la Renta to
Viktor & Rolf, it is the perfume that is accessible to most people who cannot afford their garments. It is with the
perfume that the designer has the most pervasive and widespread “life”. And nothing is visible except the spaces
in which the wearers of these perfumes perform as fashionable wearers.
While fashion will always be associated with clothing, perhaps the quintessence of
fashion is perfume, the “air” that surrounds it, the blooms of seduction and desire that evoke
and promise. Perfume either requires a body to wear it, or a person to smell it. It is always
transient, but because the response to it is through the olfactory nerves, its effects can be
the deepest, most sensorially visceral. Installation and performance are both fundamentally
transient, instating an event and thus “evental”. This transience is always a tarrying with
death. The relationship of fashion and death is a common, and necessary philosophical refrain,
but also invoked in works by designers themselves. Yet it is this very transience that is also
assurance that liveliness of life is not muted. Installations, performances and fashions pass,
but it is in their passing that a living memory remains.
25
Live
Stream
Christine Howard Sandoval
Live Stream Video Still, 2018,
single channel video,
TRT: 32:00
Christine
Howard Sandoval
The following text is an excerpt from the voice over script for
Live Stream, a single channel video and audio piece filmed in the
Acequia Madre, a hand dug waterway in Taos, New Mexico (2018).
26
This video is part of a larger project titled CHANNEL, which considers 500-year-old
Hispanic and Indigenous agricultural communities that continue to exist in the Southwestern
region of the United States.
For more information please visit: http://www.chsandoval.com/livestream
I acknowledge that I walk on unceded Indigenous land, land that was the home of the Tiwa. I thank the
ancestors for allowing me to walk this landscape in silence.
1 Lawrence Kip,
“The Indian Council
at Walla Walla, May
and June, 1855”
Sources of the History
of Oregon 1, No.2
(1897), pp. 20.
I wonder if the ground has anything to say?
I wonder if the ground is listening to what is said?
I wonder if the ground would come alive and what is on it? Though I hear what the ground says.1
Young Chief (We-ah-Te-na-tee-ma-nay), 1855 Treaty Council
A- rr- ōyō, arroyo
Or rambla in Spanish, and wadi in Arabic, because this land is connected to all other
desert lands and their people.
In the arroyo you can hear the awkward laughter of young people, erosion did not wash away the dirt’s memories,
when we were young and found ways to kill time in the sandy bottoms carved out of thousands of years of flash floods.
Arroyos are otherworldly, physical manifestations of lightning events that reveal slow sedimented strata. The desert
experiences water in extremes, where the overflow of rivers cut into the land along paths of least resistance.
This landscape is the physical embodiment of memory, the memory of water.
Canoa, or canoe in English, originally from the Arawakan language of the Taino kanowa
meaning “dugout canoe.”
A conduit or pipe, for the acequia a wooden channel that carries water across
interferences in the landscape when the path of a water ditch cannot be rerouted. Originally
canoas were made by hollowing out a wooden log and cutting off the tops, nesting one log into
the neck of the other to form a pipeline, which was held by wooden girders. Today the canoa is
a steel pipe covered on all sides, a new development for the Acequia Madre.
Canoas adapt the least to environmental forces, and often need to be replaced, repaired,
2 https://
and emptied of silt that collects from the flow of water. They are the last option when there are
en.wikipedia.org/
no alternatives to reroute a ditch.
wiki/Acequia
The arroyo intersects perpendicular to another water channel, one that was hand dug
3 Gerald Zarr,
by Spanish colonists in the 17th century along a path that is equally determined by gravity.
“How The Middle
The weight is something that I carry, lands on the ground with every footstep.
Eastern Irrigation
Ditch Called
ə-ˈsā-kē-ə , ä in Velencian,
Acequia Changed
séquia in Classical Arabic,
The American
Southwest,”
“as-sāqiya, has the double entendre of ‘the water conduit’ or ‘one that bears water’”2
AramcoWorld,
They arrived in a procession, like Capitan General Don Juan de Oñate who arrived with four
September 2016,
https://www.
hundred colonists and soldiers, and several hundred Indigenous slaves from what is now
aramcoworld.com/
Mexico, with 83 creaking wagons, 1,000 horses, and 7,000 head of livestock in a procession
es-ES/Articles/
September-2016/
almost 4 miles long that moved as fast as the cattle walked.3 Oñate established one of the
How-The-Middleearliest European settlements, on stolen land, on the backs of enslaved Indian people.
Eastern-IrrigationDitch-Called-Ace.
Upon arrival, the first thing the Settlers did was institute law for the ownership of water.
The violence and bloodshed of manifest destiny etched a boundary between the Taos
27
Pueblo and the town of Taos, an ancient and present interface between Indigenous land,
Hispanic colonialism, and the sprawl of the built environment, a confluence of culture that
flows within my own veins.
Did the naturally occurring arroyos provide the ditch diggers of the Acequia Madre
a direction to follow? Was this ditch determined by weather patterns, surface topography,
and the minerals of soil that settled long before a people?
Geology is the relationship between time and water. This path is marked by forces that
predate real estate, borders, water rights, tribal rights, federal land grants, and war.
5 Sylvia Rodriguez,
“Procession and
I walk an ecology determined by scarcity, a network that at this very moment include
Sacred Landscape in
the
tread
of my boot and the weight of my step. 300 years ago, when the ditch diggers plotted
New Mexico,” New
Mexico Historical
the direction of the Acequia Madre, did they expect that one day water would take out an
Review 77, no. 1
entire section of the land that held their earthen ditch? Has this land always been a survivor
(2002).
of constant erosion, a system of burying and revealing with each passing season?
I walk at night in the waning moonlight, as the Earth travels away from the place where
the sunlight strikes, refracting in a blue iridescent glow.
I walk along a channel that was made to carry water according to the gravitational force
determined by the proximity of the moon’s rotation in relation to the Earth. We are pulled
towards each other. The channel is carefully cleaned, geometrically excavated, hand shoveled
annually since the 18th century. The channel carries sacred water from Ma-wha-lo, or Blue
Lake. Ma-wha-lo is the headwater of the Rio Pueblo, it is a sacred site for the Taos Pueblo.
The water that passes through this channel is sacred water, a life form that is synonymous with the identity of
Tiwa People. The Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848 proclaimed ownership of Blue Lake and gave it to the Taos
Forest Reserve, who stripped the Taos Pueblo of all access to their sacred water. “In testimony before Congress in
1969, Paul Bernal explained, ‘In all of its programs the Forest Service proclaims the supremacy of man over nature;
we find this viewpoint contradictory to the realities of the natural world and to the nature of conservation. Our
tradition and our religion require people to adapt their lives and activities to our natural surroundings so that
men and nature mutually support the life common to both. The idea that man must subdue nature and bend its
processes to his purposes is repugnant to our people.’”4 From 1848 until 1969 the Taos Pueblo fought for the right
of their land and exclusive access to Ma-wha-lo. In 1970 President Richard Nixon endorsed a bill that returned
Blue Lake to the Taos Pueblo. The US President who restored ownership and private access of a sacred water site
to its people, would also be impeached four years later for a government scandal called Watergate.
I wonder if the ground has anything to say?
I wonder if the ground is listening to what is said?
I wonder if the ground would come alive and what is on it? Though I hear what the ground says.
The channel that I walk carries sacred water away from the Blue Lake. The water is
pulled by the force of gravity, it runs towards me as I travel up stream. I walk against its flow,
maybe moving from a past and into a future.
“A march or a procession is a spatial practice that expresses and enacts a relationship
between those who walk and the terrain or territory they pass through. A fence asserts a less
ephemeral claim to space: a static, measurable, concrete boundary.”5
This land is marked by the act of walking– ceremonially, religiously, to procure water
and food, as a form of labor, in the name of conquest, at night, by the light of a waxing
crescent, the first phase after the New Moon, when you can see the features of its surface.
Suddenly the space between the planets is smaller, eyes can see texture, surface, and
topography. Gravity is a force that has multiple directions, the water that runs down this
earthen channel is not disconnected from the tides of the sea, or the high-altitude waters 28
4 “Taos Blue Lake
– United States,”
Sacred Land,
accessed August
30, 2018, http://
sacredland.org/taosblue-lake-unitedstates/.
The channel that I walk carries sacred water away from the Blue Lake.
The water is pulled by the force of gravity, it runs towards me as I travel
up stream.
Christine Howard Sandoval
Live Stream Video Still, 2018,
single channel video, TRT:
32:00
Christine Howard Sandoval
Metal Canoa, Acequia Madre
(Taos, NM), 2018, Image
credit Erin Elder
6 Sylvia Rodriguez,
“Over Behind
Mabel’s On Indian
Land: Utopia and
Third Space in
Taos,” Journal of The
Southwest 53, no. 3
and 4 (2011).
7 “Los Hermanos
Penitentes,”
CATHOLIC
ENCYCLOPEDIA:
Miguel Hidalgo,
accessed August 30,
2018, http://www.
newadvent.org/
cathen/11635c.htm.
8 Ibid.,.
9 John T. Bodine,
“The Taos Blue
Lake Ceremony,”
American Indian
Quarterly 12, no. 2
(Spring 1988):.
29
of the Blue Lake, or the holy water at the entrance of La Morada de Nuestra Senora
de Guadalupe.
“This morada, built between 1810 and 1834, served the town chapter of the Penitentes.”6
“The Hermanos Penitentes are a society of (all male) individuals, who, to atone for
their sins, practice penances which consist principally of flagellation, carrying heavy crosses,
binding the body to a cross, and tying the limbs to hinder the circulation of blood. These
practices have prevailed in Colorado and New Mexico since the beginning of the nineteenth
century. Up to the year 1890, they were public; at present they are secret.”7
“Flagellation, formerly practiced in the streets and in the churches, is now, since the
American occupation, confined generally to the morada and performed with a short whip
(la disciplina), made from the leaf of the amole weed.”8
Amole, or soap weed, is a desert plant that blooms in the middle of summer, the stalk
of bulbous flowers is red or chartreuse color. The leaves are leathery and flexible. The root
produces a lather that is used as soap. La disciplina is made by braiding the dried leaves into
a thick handle that gives way to several thinly braided strands that serve as the whip. These
smaller braided whips have thick knots and are sometimes embedded with sharp metal objects
that are meant to draw blood from the backs, the chests, or the shoulders. For the Hermanos
Penitente the use of the amole plant to cleanse the corporeal and spiritual body is tied to the
land, the land is tied to the spirit. It has been recorded that the Tiwa once used the amole root
to wash their hair in the yucca suds during the sacred pilgrimage to Blue Lake.9
How did the morada come to be situated on Indigenous land? Is the boundary between
the Catholic morada and Taos Pueblo concrete, static, visible? Are the transgressions of one
religion visible within the other?
Cups of
nun chai
Alana Hunt
Cups of nun chai
2010–ONGOING,
a participatory memorial
and media intervention
Alana
Hunt
Cups of nun chai (2010–ongoing) is a participatory memorial
produced by artist Alana Hunt that emerged in response to
the death of over 118 civilians during pro-freedom protests in
the Kashmir valley throughout the Summer of 2010.
30
Cups of nun chai (2010–ongoing) is a participatory memorial produced by artist Alana Hunt that emerged in
response to the death of over 118 civilians during pro-freedom protests in the Kashmir valley throughout the
Summer of 2010. It is an exploration of how we encounter, respond to and remember political violence across
and within cultures. The work took shape through two years of tea and conversation with 118 people, across
Australia, in Brussels and Bangkok, across north India and finally in Kashmir. Alana took a photo of each person
holding their cup of nun chai and wrote from memory about each conversation that drew on its specific location
in an attempt to relate to Kashmir, producing powerful speculations on the shared heritage of colonial violence
globally, and particularly so within South Asia and Australia.
The work progressively accumulated online and from mid-2016 circulated as a
newspaper serial in Kashmir, appearing three times a week in Kashmir Reader over eleven
months until April 2017. Almost a month after this media intervention began the death of a
popular rebel commander set off a wave of violence not seen in Kashmir since 2010. Hundreds
of thousands of people across Kashmir came out to mark the martyrdom of Burhan Wani and
the state responded with ever greater force. Civil society was pushed to its limits and hundreds
of civilians were blinded by the Indian state’s use of pellet guns. The newspaper Kashmir Reader
was itself banned for three uncertain months, leaving an imprint on Kashmir’s fragile media
fraternity that still lingers today.
Written in part by the artist, and in part by world events, by Kashmiri journalists, by the
actions of the state and civilians, and by advertisers whose very business enable the production
and circulation of the newspaper itself, the 100+ newspapers containing the serialisation of
Cups of nun chai paint a telling picture of Kashmir today and shed light on its relationship
with the world we share. These newspapers have been scanned for archival purposes and
the originals bound into three volumes that continue to circulate through readings and
discussions, exhibitions, archives, lectures and publications. Through personal conversation
and public media intervention Cups of nun chai engages with some of the most challenging
areas of contemporary life including the failures of democracy, state and non-state violence,
the power of the media, and the idea of freedom. Cups of nun chai is a search for meaning in
the face of something so brutal it appears absurd and an absurd gesture when meaning itself
becomes too much to bear.
www.cupsofnunchai.com
THE FORTY-FIRST CUP OF NUN CHAI
20.02.11
I met Amity in an inner-city park in Sydney. Large trees, very similar to the famous Chinar trees of Kashmir,
surrounded us. These deciduous trees were mostly green, but some of its star-like leaves coloured in shades
of yellow and orange had begun falling to the ground. I could see Kashmir in the canopy that shaded us from
Sydney’s summer heat. The fact that Kashmir’s most iconic tree is most commonly referred to in Kashmir by its
Persian name as opposed to the Kashmiri boonyi is testimony to the creeping, banal, encompassing nature of
occupation and colonisation and how the pendulum swings as much to one side as it is pulled by the other.
Chinar trees are ‘state property’ in Kashmir, as is the land on which they are growing.
This discourages the planting and growth of new Chinar trees as people uproot them before
they grow large enough to be noticed by government agencies, for fear of losing land to the
government. As my friend Arif pointed out, this makes the most majestic and iconic of trees in
Kashmir an enemy of the people, and the people are made an enemy of it. There are pressing
31
environmental issues here, but the process of registering trees and rendering them state
property feels synonymous with the various kinds of control the military occupation exerts on
people through mechanisms like identity cards.
“How did your friends in Kashmir handle things last summer?” Amity asked. For
many the violence was outside their front door. Brutality was in their face. Anxiety constant.
Curfews were almost continuous. This meant the markets were closed and people lost access
to even the most basic supplies. For months people couldn’t leave their homes. Families lost
their income and schools sat idle. The postal service was sketchy. Phone connections and the
internet were intermittently cut, whenever the state deemed it necessary. Hospitals were full,
understaffed and with limited supplies. Reports circulated that Indian security forces had
actually raided some hospitals.
As the extent of the occupation emerged, Amity sighed, “We were so naïve when we visited Kashmir. We just
jumped on a plane and had no idea.” In 2005 Amity and her friend were traveling around India. After hearing
about the must-see-beauty of Kashmir they decided to visit Srinagar. “I remember, immediately after landing,
the presence of the military. It was like nowhere else we had visited in India. There were a lot of guns, but no one
really explained why.” Amity and her friend stayed in a house boat on Dal Lake towards the end of a Kashmiri
winter. “It was beautiful, but I kept trying to imagine what it would be like in the full bloom of summer.” Amity
didn’t recall an official curfew, but the houseboat owners had told them to be home before dark. “The streets felt
desolate apart from the soldiers and their guns. We didn’t see any other foreigners. There was tension in the air,
but no one ever explained what it was about.” Amity continued, “I remember being given a basket of hot coals
while riding on a shikara on the Dal Lake. It was beautiful.” As the only foreigners, the small income Amity’s
visit brought to those families reliant on tourism in Kashmir must have been significant.
Most tourists are told these ‘baskets of hot coals’ are called kangri, a more palatable
version of kãger, which it is called in Koshur, the Kashmiri language. Foreign palatability is
not without significance in Kashmir, particularly when it comes to tourism. While being told
about the beauty of Kashmir, while booking a plane ticket to Srinagar, while staying on the
Dal Lake, while moving through the city’s streets, while visiting Gulmarg and then returning
to North India, it speaks volumes that no one had properly discussed or even hinted at the
situation in Kashmir to Amity or her friend. There was a gaping silence. Perhaps because it
was an unpalatable truth.
“When we were at Gulmarg an old man was pulling us up the hill on a snow sled. I felt so uncomfortable that
this elderly man was puling my body up a mountain, so I got out and offered to pull him. But I just confused the
whole thing more. I felt awkward about a lot of things like this.” Amity’s experience brought to mind a scene
from Sanjay Kak’s documentary Jashn-e-Azadi (How We Celebrate Freedom), only in this film the tourists don’t
get off the sled to help. This particular sequence in Kak’s film juxtaposes three scenes; the dead body of a young
boy held by his mother while cries for azadi (freedom) echo in the background; Indian tourists sitting on a sled
in the snow pulled up hill by an elderly Kashmiri man wearing a pheran; and the rich rolling green colour of a
newly developed golf course. One of the Indian tourists going gung-ho about the beauty of Kashmir says “Yeh
in logoun ne barbaad kar diya” (These people – Kashmiris – have wasted this place). The film’s narration states:
As an enforced normality is dressed up as triumph, economic opportunism arrives – disguised as peace.
THE NINETY-THIRD AND NINETY-FOURTH CUPS OF NUN CHAI
23.06.12
Nasir held the nun chai in his hands and spoke earnestly, “The symbolism of these
cups of nun chai is strong.” I met Nasir and Burhan under the Chinar trees at Kashmir
University. I had just described in detail how Cups of nun chai began—how the work was
32
an attempt to move against the normalisation of death in Kashmir, how it was a response to
the loss of life in 2010, to the duality of what was at once horribly tangible and at the same time
inconceivable, especially so for me, someone not from Kashmir.
Burhan had been very quiet while I spoke, listening carefully, “I didn’t realise—I mean,
your website doesn’t really convey what you’ve just said.” From that point on our conversation
flowed for hours. It felt like an endless exposition detailing how two young men who yearn for
azadi (freedom) negotiate their way through life in Kashmir today. 2010 was a year Nasir and
Burhan’s generation would not forget.
Nasir and Burhan’s understanding of the political situation that shaped their lives
was nuanced; words had consequences in Kashmir, and this made them more precise with
language. Kashmir was not ‘administered’ by India, but rather ‘held’ and ‘occupied’. They told
me that Ikwhan is an Arabic word originally meaning ‘brother’. However, the Indian state have
used this word to describe former militants-turned-Indian-loyalists, so locally an ‘Ikwhani’
was a brother to the Indian state and a traitor to Kashmir. Nasir and Burhan were conscious
not only of India’s military might, but also of its coercive power. We discussed some of the
government strategies they felt were aimed at shaping the way young people think.
In 2010, individuals were detained in Kashmir for engaging on social networking sites in what the state perceived
to be ‘anti-national activities’. Nasir and Burhan explained that because this received negative press coverage
internationally the state had started to fabricate alternative reasons for detaining people who use the internet
to voice political concerns in Kashmir. The mere suggestion that someone had been involved in street violence
was enough to get you detained under the much abused and draconian Public Safety Act (PSA). Families whose
children were booked under the PSA were often dealt hefty fines and had a black mark levelled against their
name. This limited future employment opportunities and placed immense financial pressure on the family at
large. It has been reported that thousands of people have been booked under the PSA in recent years. Now, in
Kashmir in mid-2012, it feels as though the state is succeeding in making people quiet in very quiet ways.
Like hundreds of other young boys in Kashmir, in October 2011 Wamiq, a 21-year-old
commerce student, was detained under the PSA for his “involvement in anti-social activities
aimed at disturbing the public tranquillity and peace in the city.” A group of anonymous
people built a website to generate awareness around Wamiq’s case, which caught the attention
of Amnesty International. Examples like this were important to young people like Nasir and
Burhan, because they illustrate that there are alternative ways in which voices from Kashmir
can be articulated in non-violent ways and heard by large audiences.
“Can we pause for a moment? I want to think about the martyrs of 2010, but also those
who disappeared.” Nasir requested, “In some ways this is worse than death, because our
families never know. They live with uncertainty and the inability to lay their loved one’s soul
to rest.” We sat quietly for a moment together.
For Nasir and Burhan these cups of nun chai were therapeutic. They said it created
space to reflect on what surrounded them everyday. In their mind’s revolution was real. Just as
I was wondering when freedom would arrive, they told me that India had already lost, because
Kashmir would never forget. For Nasir and Burhan, the resilience of azadi was fuelled by
memory; memories that only became more definite, clear and certain with the events of 2010.
There was much said, and due to the fact that words had consequences in Kashmir,
much best left unwritten.
33
I feel like trying.
I mean crying.*
Excerpts from a non-existent musical.
Photo from exhibition
700 Muffins in a Toyota Camry
in Herðubreið, Seyðisfjörður,
March 23rd 2019.
Photo by Apolline Fjara
LungA
School
(Restructuring of a text performed at Anywhere and Elsewhere,
November 15–16, 2018, Parsons The New School for Design,
New York NY.)
34
Narrator: One day they went to a valley in the mountains and dug a very large hole. Over the hole they put a wooden floor.
The sound it made when walking on the floor was similar to the deep sounds of a large drum, the floor being the skin of
the drum and the hole creating the resonance when their feet were moving on the floor. (Bom bom bom bom bom)
They build walls of granite with holes for large windows. They made the roof from grass and lichen. They hung a
chandelier.
They moved in.
OP E N I N G SC EN E
(Úa and Óa are sitting outside their house in the morning sun. They have their eyes closed.)
Narrator:
When the sun hits the mountain,
the snow hits the water,
the water runs away
and only comes back when it rains.
When the sun hits the mountain,
the snow hits the water,
the water runs away
and only comes back when it rains.
Úa: It lasts just long enough for us not to consider that it’s ending.
Óa: Geological mo(nu)ments.
Úa: Perhaps a shared joke or shared poetry about what we are doing.
Óa: And not doing.
…
SCENE 5
Narrator: There was an air of emergency around the question: What do we do!!?
As in: Something else than what is happening now, must happen. Elements of despair, a bit of urgency, but mostly a sense
of enthusiasm and necessity. For themselves, their wellbeing, their sanity.
Óa: Do you remember when we moved here many years ago we jokingly called that decision an
alternative to suicide, which is of course not funny at all.
Úa: Perhaps not funny, but I still find it a beautiful thought. It’s still a true joke. A ‘yes’ from a
‘no’ while also being a ‘No to Yes’. And clearly a ‘Yes to No’. Rearranging meanings of yes’s and
no’s. A decision.
35
(A short pause. Úa and Óa both looking to the sides, then looking at each other again.)
Úa: The drive towards doing some things is in this case also a drive towards not doing other
things. A willingness to start doing some things and an unwillingness to continue doing other
things. Without necessarily knowing which is which, willingness and unwillingness found
forms, I guess.
For example: I would like to do the dishes.
Óa: God is in the maintenance. Not in the making. It’s the forever ‘caring for’.
Úa: Feel the burn, my friend.
…
SCEN E 14
Narrator: If a microphone had been placed in the room, it could have picked up frequencies of vibrations from Úa and Óa,
from their movements and sounds. These vibrations could travel through the copper inside cables covered in PVC, enter into
perhaps a mixer or a circuit board and turned into data, sent through long cables buried in the ground and underneath the
sea, spread across the world and into homes and houses where they could travel invisibly through the air as electromagnetic
waves and be picked up by anyone, everyone, transformed from data back into vibrations with a frequency that beings with
ears can detect. But there weren’t any microphones in the room.
(Úa and Óa walking in circles in the room. Fast paced drumming resounds from the movement of their feet on
the floor.)
(Bo-bom bo-bom bo-bom bo-bom bo-bom)
Óa: What should we do?
Úa: How should we..
Óa: What should we..
Úa: How..
Óa: Say something to someone.
Úa: Get going.
(Bo-bom bo-bom bo-bom bo-bom bo-bom)
Óa: Write something down.
Úa: Yes, now.
Óa: Start like that.
Úa: Formulate.
Óa: What do we do?
Úa: Why do we do?
Óa: Why do they do?
Úa: Keep it simple.
Óa: What do we do now?
Úa: What do we do!!?
(Bo-bom bo-bom bo-bom bo-bom bo-bom)
Óa: Nurture that which is struggling.
Úa: Very banal. Very much alive.
Óa: At least, I haven’t been cured.
36
(Úa and Óa start walking in an asynchronized pattern)
(bom bo-bo-bom booom bom-bom bo-bobom bo-bom)
Óa: We can see it like this: positions are subjected to each other to reveal, or to give
the possibility at least, for a place to reveal itself to itself.
Constantly seeking limits, not necessarily in its intention, but in its nature.
Do you dare to stay there afterwards? I would like to be there afterwards. To take the
consequences, you know. Consequences for the structure, the culture, the economy,
the ecology etc.
Úa: I really feel like trying. I mean crying.
(Úa and Óa slow down all their movements almost to a standstill. But they keep moving.)
(boom
…
boom
…
boom
…
boom)
Óa: It’s just because it feels so random what this has become, just from the possibility of
something happening somewhere. And now it is this! And then we have somehow been invited
into it, invited to step in and we infect it with all that we are. And it has started growing by
itself because other beings projected their passion for doubting into it and.. And in many ways
it feels like it could have been about anything. But now it’s about this. It could also have been
about pétanque or sailing or cooking or horse riding.
Úa: But all those things that you are sceptic towards, that you don’t trust, they live in you. The
reverse side of praxis. All the other things. The everyday. Constituted and reiterated everyday.
Óa: Like who’s doing the dishes?
Úa: We confront each other’s lives, you and I.
Óa: Is that what has been happening? Is that what is happening now?
Úa: We made this room in this way from the hope that it would do something, remember?
To the kind of space that it becomes and the attention of the ones in it, meaning us.
I was hoping it would do something to us. Like a one-way thing. A no-turning-back thing.
A we’ll-never-be-the-same-again thing. And I think it works.
Óa: Sometimes I have had the feeling that the unfolding of the composition resulted in the
composition dissolving itself.
Úa: What do you mean?
37
Óa: You acknowledge consequences.. You know we have to be here together so I better, sort of,
find out how to be here because… like three weeks, anyone can stand three weeks of tolerating,
but if it’s this, then you need to go into the relationships and deal with the situation. Otherwise
it will be hell.
…
SCEN E 1 7
Narrator: All resignation has an element of relief and this text is not an exception.
The composition overflows its own boundaries.
People meet and things happen. And the other way around. And we return to the composition.
A place revealing itself, to itself. In a more or less confrontative style.
(Úa and Óa are moving in the room guided by two rules. They both want to get as close to the center as possible
while also as far away from each other as possible.)
Óa: A curious thing happened, and tends to happen I think, when insisting on existing for
a long enough time. Organisms deploying new strategies towards each other. Endosymbiosis
perhaps. And then what?
When we are slowly infiltrating, in which ways are we ourselves being infiltrated.
Nothing is for free.
Úa: This is clearly too simple!
Óa: But possibly also true.
Úa: And then what?
Speaking in several tongues, evading definition yet insisting on being,
being someone,
something.
Óa: Exactly! Situated knowledge is a temporal aspect of relation.
Úa: What?? I’m not sure that I..
Óa: Things take time and time takes things. Anywhere. Everywhere.
Úa: We’re far away here, aren’t we?
Óa: Site-specific and thereby distance-specific.
Úa: Distance-specificity.
Óa: Far away from something and closer to something else.
Site-specific.
Size-specific.
And here it is like this: As a starting point we assume each other’s’ consideration and accept
that one can never grasp the full consequence of one’s own actions.
Úa: There are always responsibilities associated with holding each other’s hearts like that.
…
38
(above and left)
Photo from exhibition
700 Muffins in a Toyota Camry
in Herðubreið, Seyðisfjörður,
March 23rd 2019.
Photo by Apolline Fjara
E P I LO G U E
(Úa and Óa singing in chorus while jumping up and down. Each choose the melody they wish)
(bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom)
Úa and Óa in chorus: I spent my last hours of light listening
I spent my last hours of light listening
I spent my last hours of light listening
I spent my last hours of light listening
I spent my last hours of light listening
I spent my last hours of light listening
I spent my last hours of light listening
I spent my last hours of light listening
39
…
New Hypothetical
Continents:
Experimenting
With U/Dystopia
Benjamin
Matthews
The New Hypothetical Continents form the basis
to an art project that probably didn’t happen.
40
The phrase was created by a Melbourne based artist, Lucas Maddock, as a nod to Robert
Smithson’s work, and appropriated from his writings on non-place.1 Here, it invites reflection
on how the present is often shaped by utopian, or dystopian,2 accounts of the past.
This pattern is promoted by global digital communication networks where visual media are increasingly prevalent,
and aesthetic modes of representation such as those associated with art play a leading role. In the digital age,
unprecedented modulation of this theme has emerged. Picture the hidden swarms of intelligent agents that navigate
the Semantic Web and inhabit digital platforms, reminding you to get a skin check that prevents the spread of
a growing melanoma, or inviting you to a protest rally curiously aligned with your nascent, radical politics.
Similarly, what are we to make of the sudden iterative looping between nostalgia for
1 With his
permission I
a great past that never was and a data rich present that rushes by and virtually never is? For
have used the
instance, the collapsing immediacy of Tweets that presage all and none, from global war to
title, and Lucas’
work is central to
Pax Americana, or forest fires that prove mismanagement rather than a changing climate:
the concept – as
gaslighting the planet on everything from misogyny to racism, motivating violent white
Maddock writes
‘In 1969 artist
supremacy with the press of a tropic button.
Robert Smithton
Mediating this pattern motivates the New Hypothetical Continents, which are based
appropriated an
illustrated map
around an interactive website (newhypotheticalcontinents.com) that hosts an archive of
from Lewis Spence’s
responses to a utopian turn in the arts and contemporary culture. Visitors will be encouraged
History of Atlantis
and used it to form
to browse, provide commentary and respond to the archive by offering works of their own.
the basis for his
installation Map
of Broken Glass
(Atlantis)’. See
Maddock, Lucas.
New Hypothetical
Continents.
Melbourne:
Blackartprojects,
2015. Print.
2 I assume utopia
to be in a dyadic
relationship with
dystopia—not
necessarily
contrapuntal
with it, as in the
circumstances of
a simple binary,
though this
possibility is itself a
powerful, generative
utopia—but at least
holding in common
with dystopia certain
traits. For example,
the condition that
people “have and
know their place”.
This is an ancient
philosophical
theme: a structure
one MUST know
and yield to is
both enabling
and repressive.
41
THE RISE OF U/DYSTOPIA
The figure of utopia has emerged with growing frequency in recent art and culture. Vermeulen
and van den Akker (2015) go so far as to describe what they see as a “utopian turn”, where
a “structure of feeling” that moves beyond the postmodern has emerged.
This “turn” is realized as a (paradoxically) ubiquitous and absent presence, such that
‘there is no need to dig deep or look far and wide for the figure of utopia. It appears everywhere
and nowhere across the arts and contemporary culture’.3 Indeed, the ambivalent quality of
utopia—evanescent, yet all about—the authors describe coheres with cultural developments
during the 2010s, which have given rise to collective aesthetic and intellectual movements
that engage with the impact of global flows of digitised capital and culture, and the expanded
influence of related industries such as high-tech manufacturing.
Examples include “Vaporwave” (from music, but not really), “the New Aesthetic”
(coined by James Bridle, and from design, but not so much), and “ruin porn” (from
photography, sort of ).4 Each of these examples are only made coherent by presenting
consistently ambivalent responses to the effects of technology, and very frequently these
responses rely on high-tech means of creation and mediation.
Each movement is emergent, in the sense that they are not intended or centrally
governed, but instead are spontaneous creations of extended networks of individuals. The
participants respond to a broad set of themes and conditions via aesthetic means, rather than
the particular circumstances and politic that tended to define the art movements of the 1900s.
Beauchamp writes, for instance, that ‘Vaporwave arose in reaction to huge economic and
social forces that are still very much a part of our lives: globalization, runaway consumerism,
and manufactured nostalgia chief among them’.5
Like Vaporwave, each of these movements express dissatisfaction with the utopian
presentation of technology and its impacts by the agents of late capitalism that dominated the
period leading up to the end of the second millennium. Digital communication and media,
3 Robin van den
Akker et al., “Utopia,
Sort Of: A Case Study
In Metamodernism”,
Studia Neophilologica
87, no. 1 (2014): 55–67,
doi:10.1080/00393274.
2014.981964.
4 Less coherent
practices, such as
the creation of “dank
memes” (from 4chan,
at some point) also
reflect the sensibility.
5 Beauchamp S,
“How Vaporwave
Was Created Then
Destroyed By The
Internet”, Esquire,
2017, http://www.
esquire.com/
entertainment/
music/a47793/
what-happened-tovaporwave/.
6 Beauchamp S,
“How Vaporwave
Was Created Then
Destroyed By The
Internet”.
7 Beauchamp S,
“How Vaporwave
Was Created Then
Destroyed By The
Internet”.
8 Matthew Battles,
“But It Moves:
The New Aesthetic
& Emergent Virtual
Taste”, Metalab,
2012, http://metalab.
harvard.edu/2012/04/
but-it-moves-thenew-aestheticemergent-virtualtaste/.
9 Mark Fisher,
Ghosts Of My Life
(UK: John Hunt
Publishing, 2014).
10 Mark Fisher,
“The Metaphysics
Of Crackle:
Afrofuturism And
Hauntology”,
Dancecult 5, no. 2
(2013): p46.
high-tech manufacturing, and the computational devices and processes they rely on are the
subject of direct or indirect comment.
Typically, this is achieved by removing and reframing the output from the circumstances
of its production in the mode of appropriation that underpinned the art movements of
modernism. These aestheticising procedures are executed with goal of participation in a
self-corrupting joke: one intended to fail at all but the expression of ambivalence.
Vaporwave is a ‘slowdown, remixed, and appropriative music genre defined at least
in part by an obsession with ‘80s and ‘90s consumer culture…. a kind of musical parody
of pop consciousness, [which] never strived for mass appeal’.6 The first vaporwave album,
Floral Shoppe by Ramona Xavier, AKA Vektroid, AKA Macintosh Plus:
features a Diana Ross track, “It’s Your Move,” chopped and slowed to an awkwardly
relentless zombie shuffle’… brought back from the dead with all of the slickness, the
“product”, completely sucked out of it … the aesthetic of vaporwave is embodied on the
cover of Floral Shoppe. Take a look at it: the retro computer graphics, the Roman bust,
the pixilated city skyline, song titles in Japanese.7
The New Aesthetic adopts a similarly ambivalent pose, highlighting uncanny artefacts
and back alleys inscribed by the collision of AI and media tech with the now. Battles writes the:
New Aesthetic is a collaborative attempt to draw a circle around several species
of aesthetic activity—including but not limited to drone photography, ubiquitous
surveillance, glitch imagery, Streetview photography, 8-bit net nostalgia. Central to the
New Aesthetic is a sense that we’re learning to “wave at machines”—and that perhaps
in their glitchy, buzzy, algorithmic ways, they’re beginning to wave back in earnest.8
In a parallel, earlier engagement with these themes, Mark Fisher took up Derrida’s
concept of hauntology to describe a pervasive sense that contemporary culture (electronic
music in particular) is haunted by the ‘slow cancellation of the future’ — or the ‘lost futures’
of modernity, which failed to occur or were cancelled by postmodernity and neoliberalism.
Hauntology is a ‘pining for a future that never arrived,’ and Fisher’s 2014 book, Ghosts of My
Life, explores examples like the music of Burial and Joy Division, and the films of Kubrick and
Christopher Nolan.9 Fisher argues, with Fredic Jameson, this ‘“blurs contemporaneity” with
elements from the past, but, whereas postmodernism glosses over the temporal disjunctures,
the hauntological artists foreground them’.10
If the “new” quality in these contemporary aesthetic engagements with history is to
be distilled, it is in part as a frustration with the utopian presentation of the role technology
was to play in our lives. But more than this, they are a kind of protest against the morbidity
this inspires. In Fisher’s view, for instance, ‘one function of hauntology is to keep insisting
that there are futures beyond postmodernity’s terminal time’.11 Intentionally paradoxical,
the participants express a distaste for the very process of appropriation that underpins the
movements in the first instance — the uncanny sense that the remix culture they comment
on and through is generative of modernist (psychological) nostalgia, postmodern
(technical) nostalgia,12 and the ineffable allure of utopia.13
If the “new” quality in these contemporary aesthetic engagements
with history is to be distilled, it is in part as a frustration with the
utopian presentation of the role technology was to play in our lives.
42
This is why each movement engages with themes such as control and surveillance, corruption, decline, decay
and ruin via high tech means that hypothesise dystopian visions of impossible, present day coherence. There
is no such thing as the New Aesthetic or Vaporwave: they are dark comedy instead, parodic of coherency, and
perhaps better understood as representing a sensibility than recognisable “movements”.
11 Mark Fisher,
“The Metaphysics Of
Crackle: Afrofuturism
And Hauntology”, p53.
12 Fisher’s (2013)
hauntology is
predicated on a
distinction between
‘[p]ostmodernism’s
nostalgia mode, which
is ‘not defined by a
yearning for the past.
The kind of figure
capable of exhibiting
and expressing such
longing belongs to
a paradigmatically
modernist moment….
[Fredic] Jameson’s
nostalgia mode is
better understood
in terms of a formal
attachment to the
techniques and
formulas of the past,
a consequence of
a retreat from the
modernist challenge
of innovating cultural
forms adequate
to contemporary
experience’ (p45).
13 Along similar lines,
Vermeulen and van
den Akker’s (2009)
“metamodernism”
maps the emergence
of conditions that
permit a liminal
mode of aesthetic
representation and
experience that
takes the form of
unresolved oscillation
between modern
and postmodern
sensibilities.
14 Ruth Levitas,
The Concept Of Utopia:
Reissue With New
Preface By The Author
(Oxford: Peter Lang AG,
Internationaler Verlag
der Wissenschaften,
2010): p9.
43
+ WTF IS UTOPIA??
This sensibility fits neatly with the contemporaneous definition of utopia offered by Ruth
Levitas, who in her book on the topic conducts a thorough review of the many and varied
applications of the concept, before concluding:
[W]e learn a lot about the experience of living under any set of conditions by reflecting
upon the desires which those conditions generate and yet leave unfulfilled. For that is
the space which utopia occupies.14
The space of unfulfilled desires, and the weight of expectation it is freighted with fits
the recent resurgent interest in utopia in the arts, and a broader ambivalent sensibility in
contemporary culture, but also with the deeper history of utopia.
It has been variously defined as preoccupied with a past that never was, a future yet to
be realised, or a forcibly imagined present in the mode of fiction. The last became orthodox
in early modern utopias, where fictional islands became the site of seminal works that are now
considered precursors to the modern novel.
Strong examples are works such as Sir Thomas More’s Utopia (1516), Francis Bacon’s
New Atlantis (1627), and Henry Neville’s The Isle of Pines (1668), which distilled critique of
dominant ideology by offering fictive solutions to social contradictions of the time.
Each of these fictions hypothesise place, and present narrative portrayals of elements of
the real world in a new, “ideal” configuration “as-if” they were real. This rhetorical as-if gesture
contrasts the virtual dimension of utopia with the reality outside these imagined places,
inviting reflection on each. For instance, More’s defining name for the island society – Utopia –
combines the Greek prefix “ou-” (οὐ), meaning “not”, and topos (τόπος), meaning “place”. This
(very likely) satiric construct describes a model society founded on slave labour in a non-place,
or a place that does not exist.
More’s ideal construct seems intended as a comment on the dangerous quality of
assuming ideal situations are ever able to exist. However, given their proximity with the world
beyond the fictional construct, utopian narratives are ever in danger of collapsing into the real,
and being mistaken for reality itself. They rely on reflection, and time taken to contrast the asif with that which lies beyond it.
+ WTF ARE THE NEW HYPOTHETICAL CONTINENTS??
In recent history and the present, speed of information flows and mobile access mean
permanent connection to large volumes of data in real time for many — and that the remainder
of us are entangled with the effects of this connectivity.
Lev Manovich argues that rather than engaging with databases or archives, as we once
did via the Web, we now live in the “data present”, as is evident in the ubiquitous construct of
social media, where feeds create a continuous flow of events he calls the “data stream”.15 Each
event works to:
15 Lev Manovich,
“Future Fictions”, Frieze,
2013, https://frieze.com/
article/future-fictions.
push the earlier ones from the immediate view. The most important event is always the
one that is about to appear next because it heightens the experience of the ‘data present’.16
Paul Virilio describes the influence of this ubiquitous digitising of experience in terms of the presence
of a “sixth continent”. Under these conditions, Virilio argues, the body becomes lost, creating a:
16 Lev Manovich,
“Future Fictions”.
17 Paul Virilio, The
University Of Disaster
(Cambridge: Polity,
2010): p86.
confusion in feelings of belonging and with the drift of the five continents that make up
geographical space towards the sixth continent of cyberspace, [such that] suddenly the
morphological stability of reality is threatened with collapse.17
For Virilio this pattern is consistent with a history where the powerful shape narrative
representations of the present, and now a ‘neocolonial conquest of this “sixth continent”, of
a virtual space that replaces the real space of the other five’.18
But the sixth continent is also inhabited by the agents of resistant, radical groups. Indeed, networked individuals
and collectivism are able to formulate alternate places that supplement the most visible territories and might
foster and provide opportunity for the presentation of alternate continents: New Hypothetical Continents.
THE GROUND
Such reflexive myth generation intends to disrupt, and paradoxically stabilise bodies that intersect and become
tangible via digital networks and that for instance, establish the database as a (“dank”) stronghold: an archive
to anchor against and participate in the destabilising speed of the data stream, and the data present.
18 Paul Virilio
and Julie Rose,
The Futurism Of
The Instant (repr.,
Cambridge: Polity
Press, 2011): p77.
19 Benjamin
H Bratton, The
Stack – On Software
and Sovereignty
(Massachusetts:
MIT Press, 2016):
pp15–16.
In The Stack: On Software and Sovereignty, Bratton captures this elegantly when he argues:
Geographies that were comfortable and doxic are now transient and alien, inhabited
uncannily. But even as strange geographies corrugate, fracture, and smear worldly
scale and tempo, the ground isn’t somehow evaporated into virtual information flux;
to the contrary, we are brought to a certain end of nonplace. For this, a different kind of
placefulness is reestablished, one that is not the organic inverse of artificial abstraction,
but an experience of place as one resonant scale within a much larger telescoping
between local and global consolidations.19
Bratton’s “placefulness” captures the reflexive essence of the New Hypothetical
Continents, where an end to nonplace is celebrated through playful interactions with the
consolidation of local with global phenomena.
For instance, in the seminal eponymous work by Lucas Maddock, Robert Smithson’s Atlantis is mapped in
vector points and rendered as 3D topoi then built as a welded steel frame that mimics joined vector points,
which illuminated become a glimmering plateau, and eventually drab — if protean — once cast in bronze.20
The phases are walked back as the media blur into the relation of utopias, to recuperated models that form the
immediacy of a careful reconnaissance. Inspired by blur, in The New Atlantis (2019), Maddock’s art has been
appropriated again by Grace Barnes, Luke Ylias and Ben Crocker, its vectors unhinged, plunged into darkness
and given a (paradoxically) neon make over.
The New Hypothetical Continents are those places we imagine and create, which
autonomically resist the drift toward collapse into the u/dystopia of the data present,
44
while playfully allowing moments and media to blur, one with the next.
20 This series
can be viewed
on the Project
Anywhere website
here https://www.
projectanywhere.
net/new-hypothetical-continents-benjamin-matthews/,
and in the catalog
here https://gallery.mailchimp.
com/7fe1d990625362cc01
df579c0/files/
Lucas_Maddock_
New_Hypothetical_Continents_
Dome_01.pdf.
45
Benjamin Matthews Grace Barnes,
Luke Ylias and Ben Crocker
The New Atlantis, 2019, digital image, 20.3 x 25.4
cms, Permissions granted in conjunction with
Hypothetical Continents project
Technās Tranquil
Submission:
On Being Spoken
Nancy Mauro-Flude
Error-In-Time()Performance
Still 11, 2016
Nancy
Mauro-Flude
Remember that the theatre of the world is wider than
the realm of England.
—Mary Queen of Scots before her execution judges, October 1586.
46
As people and places interchangeably exalt homebrewed, regional, national and international
connections, the world opens up to us and closes in on itself simultaneously. Technās tranquil
submission is a performative proposition for our networked machine learning age, as to how
computers, as theatre machines, might be read through longing and situation, elation, chatter,
retribution and serendipity. It defines the characteristics of the broader relationship between
poetics and technics by constructing and revealing other ways of engaging with the ubiquitous
materials in our world. While the poetic powers of code are perceptual, symbolic, social
and technical, as they mutate, they are also profoundly moral and existential, they matter
for how people reflect upon and act in a shared, everyday realm of finite human existence –
representing our senses and connecting them to our lives.
Alone with my back to the public, the artwork has concrete constraints both commonly
pertinent; opening a space of awareness and sense of contradiction. I perform with command
line computing, an expressive language within a shell or terminal. This is an alternative interface
paradigm, alternative to the Graphical User Interface (GUI). For the ‘uninitiated’, commandline
computing – text based computing was used before the invention of the MOUSE (or touch pad,
instead of clicking on images) – people controlled computers by text based commands.
sister0: Technās #Echo Hello World
Hello World
sister0: Technās #cat journal-09-03-19-02.txt
Today = newDate();
To make something visible we must leave something out.
On my journey to find sleep I hunted for an image that would
protect me.
I couldn’t find anything.
Eventually the streets fell away.
The horizon veiled the sun.
Night loomed.
I watched from the rooftop all the things I have known.
All the lines passed through me.
I lifted my head and it shifted like a stone.
The skin of the world stood still, but my organs kept moving.
47
#TOP
Processes: 536 total, 2 running, 534 sleeping, 2570 threads
08:27:14 Load Avg: 2.53, 2.29, 2.21
CPU usage: 7.95% user, 3.29% sys, 88.75% idle
SharedLibs: 313M resident, 61M data, 105M linkedit.
MemRegions: 312241 total, 6502M resident, 127M private,
2873M shared.
PhysMem: 16G used (3329M wired), 106M unused.
VM: 3353G vsize, 1319M framework vsize, 66426677(0) swapins,
70054451(0) sw
Networks: packets: 13612557/12G in, 12135257/4870M out.
Disks: 10239607/369G read, 6068588/379G written.
PID
30923
30920
30919
30918
30916
30915
30914
30908
30907
COMMAND
top
bash
login
iTerm2
QuickLookSat
quicklookd
mdworker_sha
mdworker
MTLCompilerS
%CPU
8.8
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
0.0
TIME
00:01.58
00:00.00
00:00.02
00:00.04
00:00.30
00:00.13
00:00.08
00:00.14
00:00.05
#TH
1/1
1
2
2
4
5
3
3
2
#WQ
0
0
1
1
1
2
1
1
2
#PORTS
25
21
30
33
79
98
60
60
24
MEM
8324K
704K
1160K
3084K
12M
3684K
3716K
4820K
6020K
PURG
0B
0B
0B
0B
1432K
108K
0B
0B
0B
CMPRS
0B
0B
0B
0B
0B
0B
0B
0B
0B
With the #top command we begin to understand the processes and
have an idea how to manage them. I can get information on my system
and its operation.
When I look inside machines. I like to touch their inner parts (demystify its senses follow the bus route to the CPU
(central processing unit). Deal with the computer the hard way. With a soft soft hand.
A performance lecture deploying this system of strategies forces an engagement with
formal languages and embodied procedures (including an awareness of the deep structure of
such systems), where the agent has an awareness of his or her own finitude in terms of being
and existing through a language that is always already inscribed.
When operating a computer we are obliged to interface with the machine by means
of our human body, its movements, through our sensory motor perception and organs are
engaged with the mechanism by way of operation. Just as Bergson reminds us “I see plainly
how external images influence the image that I call my body; they transmit movement to
it. They all flow together in the folds and ripples of my flesh”.1 For people who have never
1 Henri Bergson,
1911, ‘Of the
worked with text based computing – those who are already conditioned to the ‘point and
Selection of Images
click on an image’ method – widely cultivated by the GUI, this involves sensitising
For Conscious
Presentation. What
procedures, that one may endure embodying any new instrumental skill acquisition, for
Our Body Means and
instance learning to play the guitar. It is posited that regular use of a computational interface
Does’. Matter and
Memory. Trans Paul,
has physiological effects on our body, like any discipline or ritual, just as the implementation
N, M. & Palmer, W,
of an executable command, a line of code, may call on a series of interrelated programmes
S. George Allen and
Unwin, London.
inside a terminal. Utterances recorded in writing acquire a permanence separated from our
embodied matrix, a perpetual and illusory aim for stability, underpinning our vaulting
2 Jonathan Sterne,
2011 ‘The Theology
visions of affluence where the horizon is forever receding from view. We must recall there
of Sound:
may always and only be rewriting. Language is spun out of the taciturnity of our capricious
A Critique of
Orality’. Canadian
experience. While old categories of thinking have collapsed in the deflated illusion of the
Journal of
binary, to candidly discard or claim that language is somehow a dubious technology, ‘in
Communication,
vol. 36, p. 218.
part because Orality and Literacy is scrubbed of the mysticism in Presence of the Word’.2
Whereas we need to know who and what our rewriting serves. When we obscure these
48
kinds of differences, that is, when we conflate barbaric instinct with literary nuance,
culture and art, and dismiss the contemplative, critical life of a pundit, in esteem of a vitalist
participatory form, then artistic research as a critical strategy risks a new kind of Philistinism.
The relationship of the individual to the systems and structures that seemingly comprise
them, the contained individual I, that countless people have made revolutions to retrieve
from that is at risk, ironically from the very ‘artifices that demand a collective, experimental
art, radically denuded of any tragic connotation’.3 The abstracted, alienated subject is worth
3 Isabelle Stengers,
I 2015 In Catastrophic
holding on to, more fiercely than ever, in the face of contemporary ideological pressures. We
times: Resisting the
should not underestimate the value of abstraction – from the art object, the institution, the
coming barbarism.
Open Humanities
multitude that has evolved in many of our cultural traditions. If they are the kinds of thing that
Press. p.215.
we can change, we can try to change the systems and structures, or at least know how to recode
or re write them.
From inside a labyrinth, I’m trying to decipher the theatrical parables transmitted by an
arcane movement, with only a few twinkles of light to guide me through the edge of a communicative
field. Stumbling out into a visceral abyss of jumbled sinews, cables and knots that on further
inspection contained hidden meanings, multidimensional perceptions.
With my bare hands I gradually pull apart the tangled webs. I suddenly find some velvet
curtains and find myself walking on cold wooden boards, in a vast theatre. I discover myself sitting as
a performer with my back to audience, unravelling the reader, writer, programmer, maker and user.
In the act of re writing these roles, the friction causes a fire.
In the obscurity of the computer shell, this den of veracity, a divination of texts is initiated,
parsing through texts written previous – recoding, reinvigorating, reconfiguring, transfiguring
and computing textual treasures. Transcending the realm of anecdotal, by automating
the analysis of list structures, words are choreographed and transfigured into elemental
constituents. The action of transparently executing code is a way of letting the ‘uninitiated’ into
the magical and mutating processes of mysticism and computing. The text is incorporeality
reanimated, through the organs and skin it is roused, ‘Incorporeal openness, may provide a
way to conceptualize ethics and politics as well as arts and technologies as more than human
(but less than other worldly), as a way of living in a vast world without mastering or properly
understanding it, as creative inventions for the elaboration and increasing complexification
of life in the world of coexistence with all other forms of life and with a nonliving nature’
4 Elizabeth Grosz,
Grosz.4 When we investigate the formal barriers and aspects of the medium of code it is also
2017, The Incorporeal:
tempting to speculate that such theories can touch upon the profound influence and ubiquity
Ontology, Ethics
of the computer on contemporary culture, and hence on the performance of both human and
and the Limits
of Materialism,
nonhuman actors. Embracing the form of active poetry, a code-based séance where
Colombia University
Press, New York. p.14. a computational wormhole is opened to summon transcendental power, time collapses.
I moved under the wings of the stage, past the bulk of velvet curtains, and down to the mettle of the labyrinth. I found
myself twisted in a mortal coil of bedsprings, sequins, beer bottle tops, and discarded components. A surveillance device,
under the guise of an oil container, led me to a 16C pirate map, with this I navigated my way out through the maze, to
discover myself contemplating and substantiating the power of suspending one’s disbelief. I evaluated how the objects
created by our embodied thought shift in tandem with the technologies that in return engage our senses, our inner veracity.
In the performance of code, technical changes and elaborations are revealed and bring with them many possibilities.
Technical consideration of the apparatus as both tool and a theatrical medium is generated and the condition in which
human beings are located – an open-ended, ever variable trajectory – unwraps, rather than the fixed and regulated
machines often characteristic of the consumer world.
49
5 Ihab Hassan, 1987,
The Postmodern Turn.
Ohio State University
Press, Ohio.
6 Jonathan Sterne,
2011 ‘The Theology
of Sound: A
Critique of Orality’.
Canadian Journal of
Communication,
vol. 36, p. 215.
Code is performative – where instead of being ‘spoken’, the execution of the text speaks
itself. In active poetry, other texts unfold inside a new text in order to make it breathe and
pulsate. That is, the act of executing code in the command line, in order to parse through a
text and make one anew, is revealing of how polyvalent such practices can be, and how they
lend themselves. When abstraction is taken to the limit and comes back as new concreteness,5
it seems akin to an alchemic process. Although the shapeshifting of text unfolds and enacts
a demystification of technology, still ‘mystification’ lies in and through the performance of
the machinic assemblage. In ritual and performance ‘disciplines of the body subordinated
collective communication to abstract codes, even if they were not semantico-referential
codes like those of writing’.6 There were technologies prior to writing that served some of its
executable functions. Some of us may be reminded of Friedrich Kittler, who claimed ‘[w]e
simply do not know what our writing does’. To develop further from that point, its implications
are tremendous.
#!/bin/bash
#--> read a poem line by line with sleep
#--> rl | radomise lines
for n in `cat reality.txt | sed ‘s# #__#g’`
do
echo $n | sed ‘s#__# #g’
sleep `echo $n | sed ‘s#__# #g’ | wc -c | sed ‘s#.*#&/20#g’ | bc`
done
7 Walter Benjamin,
1972, ‘A Short History
of Photography’,
Screen, vol. 13, no. 1,
Spring, p 25.
8 Isabelle Stengers,
2015 In Catastrophic
times: Resisting the
coming barbarism.
Open Humanities
Press. p.147.
At night I find the labyrinth inside myself, the walls have strange carvings.
I decode them.
A black cat, deadpan stare; no filter.
Stage full of blue lights accented by a blurry guitarist,
taken through a wine glass.
Screenshot of a text message conversation – a carefully typed asterisk.
Non-relevant texts blurred.
Dignified turmoil, travelling in hope of finding a place to be still.
Finding someone to stay still with.
And as soon as this is found. The moving kicks in again.
A woman dancing as if she was a spider in black and white.
Each cell expanding and contracting, overflowing with the readiness to partake.
The benefit of knowing how to translate and read scripted algorithmic procedures,
may become a necessity but perhaps not for what we assume. Just as Benjamin once said of
analogue photography, ‘The illiterate of the future will not be the man who cannot read the
alphabet, but the one who cannot take a photograph’.7 Stenger reminds us of ‘Antonin Artaud,
who yelled and screamed that thought is not “in the head.”…at the risk of losing himself
in it, the abyss of chaos that must be kept at a distance in order to think…That the human
adventure might pass via the pragmatic learning of techniques…seems quasi-indecent, a sort
of deliberately infantilizing business’.8 Enacting and reframing the computer terminal in a
theatrical manner – is also a way of subtly destabilising such practices and legacies away
from what is a typical necrocaptialist dominated space. Steering away computation from
50
utilitarian function and formal control codes into a virtual cosmos of exuberance and
(above)
Nancy Mauro-Flude
Error-In-Time()Performance
Still 1, 2017
EastBlok Gallery Montreal
(Photo: ThiénV)
(opposite)
Nancy Mauro-Flude
Error-In-Time()Performance
Still 1, 2016
51
possibility where vertigo, ivresse, euphoria instead may exist as potent and valid methodology
productive anxiety of industrial surveillance complex of the fourth industrialised automation
in which we are living. Aesthetically exploiting these otherwise closed systems, techné pays
heed to those dimensions that are not governed by the imperatives of use and efficiency. In the
future, such policies might be abandoned as an impediment to understanding.
What are the ways one can instil notions of holistic soothsaying into the computational
medium – typically considered a domain of pure logic and formal reason? With the creative
process as mediator, the relation between poetry and technics seems to be not yet sufficiently
analysed. By approaching this question from the point of view of artistic practice then it is
possible to think of a productive relation between technology and poetry (distinguishing
this from a mode of daily use consumption that does not touch the essence of technology
at all). That is, technology and poetry’s capacity and flexibility prepare for providence, an
admission to the unknown brought about by its own uncanny. We must therefore serve the
communication between poetry, language and techne, and in doing so propose that the coming
artists must build upon the structure of this relation and in doing so prepare for a possibility
of a new type of dwelling upon the earth.
Parsons X Hela X Unfpa
Lifecycle Undergarment
Project
Members of Parsons School of Design Team
Burak Cakmak, Dean of Fashion
Brendan McCarthy (Alumnus),
Director of School of Fashion Systems
and Materiality Program
Isabelle HC Webster (Alumnus),
School of Fashion Faculty Member
Jeannine Han, School of Fashion Faculty Member
Original Student Team Members
(All are now graduates)
Pamela Cooper, BFA Fashion Design
Isa Medina, BFA Fashion Design
Virginia (Ginny) Jones, AAS Fashion Design
Benedicte Wilhelmsen, AAS Fashion Design
Brendan McCarthy
& Isobel Webster
We are collectively designing a system that is
developing high absorbency underwear to replace
sanitary pads.
52
WHAT’S AT STAKE: WHAT IS THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE PROJECT?
Through a unique partnership structure involving refugee women and girls, Parsons School
of Design students and faculty, Hela Clothing manufacturing company and the UNFPA and
UNHCR, we are developing a revolutionary sustainable design and education system in equal
collaboration to address women’s menstrual and reproductive health. We are collectively
designing a system that is developing high absorbency underwear to replace sanitary pads.
The project began 3 years ago with students in Parsons School of Fashion students
and faculty working with UNFPA, Hela Clothing teams to develop initial underwear system
prototypes through deep research of critical refugee conditions. The students developed
incredible prototypes that were then manufactured by Hela Clothing with aim to bring the
prototypes to Kenya for the next on-the-ground, first-hand co-design, user-feedback phase
of the project.
In July and August of 2018, our Parsons School of Fashion team led by Dean Burak
Cakmak, Systems and Materiality Director Brendan McCarthy and Part-time faculty member
Isabelle HC Webster travelled to Kenya and Ethiopia with the aim to implement the next phase
and create a long-term development infrastructure for the of the project.
Month after month, women around the world face significant challenges when addressing their menstrual cycles.
Quality of life can suffer, deepening inequality among the sexes. During the trip to Kenya and Ethiopia and
through our meetings with women in the Kakuma Refugee Camp and Kalobeyei Integrated Settlement and Host
Communities, we learned first-hand how a lack of privacy and a means to safely and conveniently deal with their
bleeding with dignity can result in women and girls missing school, preventing them from farming and living
pastoral lives, being ostracized by their communities and being forced to spend beyond their financial means to
obtain sanitary pads each month. Disposable sanitary pads, particularly the brand Always, dominate the market
and offer little to no choice to women in Kakuma, Kalobeyei and the Host Communities, including the Turkana
people. The serious negative effects on water sanitation and environmental contamination due to the disposable
nature of contemporary sanitary products, which do not break down for centuries, is only just beginning to be
felt and are worsening by day.
Although menstruation and women’s reproductive health remains guarded by silence,
shame and taboo in nearly every part of society, every woman has hard won experience and
a deeply personal way in which she deals with her own cycle. Every woman knows what it
is to be without the means to deal with her bleeding or have her means fail. It is in part this
understanding amongst all women that has allowed co-design to be so successful. We have
the opportunity to turn the typical design equation upside down, by enabling the women in
the most difficult conditions in the world, with the least means to create a product for all other
women in the world.
The project uses an innovative, inductive, user-centered, co-design methodology
that brings refugees and Parsons students and faculty together to create a sustainable, high
absorbency underwear system. There is no person more apt than the specific woman herself to
design for the needs of her own body and social and environmental context. Our methodology
reverses deductive, unidirectional, top-down approaches that have too oft dominated both
design and international aid and development historically. The collaborative methodology
empowers refugee women and girls, not only ensuring that they are at the center of the design
process, but ensuring that they are, in fact, equal stakeholders in the project and their own
reproductive health futures.
53
Brendan McCarthy and
Isabelle Webster Parsons
X Hela X Unfpa Lifecycle
Undergarment Project, 2018
Through this partnership, we have the ability to develop, manufacture and distribute
a profoundly innovative high absorbency underwear product that is designed by refugee
women and girls and that is universal. The product is not designed just for the benefit of
refugees, it is being designed for all women.
Sexual and reproductive health education can be difficult to provide and is particularly challenging in
refugee and extremely marginalized communities. However, fashion and design provide a dynamic, different
entry point to reimagine new ways to educate people on critical health issues. Fashion, in particular is
an amazing, universal language that has the ability to breakdown and transcend many challenges that
typically impede sexual and reproductive health education like cultural and religious differences, extreme
differences in learning styles, extreme difference levels of education and more. Through this project there is
massive potential to leverage design, and specifically fashion systems design to reimagine how sexual and
reproductive health education and even general education can be taught. Parsons in collaboration with the
UNFPA and UNHCR have the opportunity to establish a design education institution or in refugee camps
that can not only teach design but can help rethink how all forms of education can be delivered in the most
critical of circumstances in our world.
We are extremely pleased to report that the mission was profoundly successful.
Key and diverse stakeholders, (Refugee Women and Girls, Host Community Women and
Girls, UNHCR, Red Cross, International Rescue Committee, Kenya Ministry of Health,
AmRef), strongly agreed that the project and underwear product prototype successfully
and innovatively address critical women’s menstrual needs in a superior manner to
current, existing methods. The key stakeholder agreed that the underwear system we
have co-designed provides an all-in-one, healthy, dignified sustainable system option to
replace sanitary pads. The key stakeholders also agreed that project successfully addresses
key sustainability issues, both environmentally and financially. The co-design and systems
approach itself with refugees was extremely welcomed by key stakeholders reversing
existing, top-down paradigms and giving true equal stake and ownership to refugees.
Key stakeholders, agreed that there is an important education opportunity for
Parsons to engage in refugee camps through this project. Further there is significant
opportunity for sexual and reproductive health education through this project and
leveraging digital technology like gaming.
Through this project there is massive potential to leverage design,
and specifically fashion systems design to reimagine how sexual and
reproductive health education and even general education can be taught.
54
Based on the work of the Parsons team and feedback garnered from key stakeholders
Hela Clothing affirmed deep, long-term commitment to the partnership and project and
co-production of underwear for refugees.
PROJECT SUMMARY DESCRIPTION:
The primary objective of the project is to address critical women’s health needs and challenges
around menstruation through the co-design and development with refugees of a sustainable
system for high absorbency underwear.
Through the use of a collaborative, co-design systems process with refugee women in
their own contemporary contexts, the methodology empowers women refugees to be the key,
central stakeholders driving the creative and design processes in order to address their needs
and determine their own futures.
Through a partnership and collaboration with Parsons School of Design, UNFPA and
Hela Clothing, a design solution has been developed with and introduced for the refugee
community living in the Kakuma Refugee Camp and Kalobeyei Integrated Settlement in
Turkana County, Kenya.
The high absorbency underwear offers women a new, all-in-one, dignified, sustainable
alternative to costly and environmentally damaging sanitary pads. Because the sanitary pad
is integrated into the underwear, it also simply provides underwear, which is an expensive
commodity, that can be worn at any time, not just during menstruation.
Key Objectives:
1. Develop a new system to support menstrual period needs of women using high
absorbency underwear through a co-design process with refugee women and girls
2. Develop a process for distribution of high absorbency underwear to refugees through
dignity kits
3. Create a feedback system for refugees to collaborate in the development of
undergarments
4. Develop an education system on sexual reproductive health and rights for refugees
55
On
Drawing
Ana Mendes On Drawing,
2017, video, 09:53 min
Image credit ©Anna Arca
Ana
Mendes
On Drawing is a research and artistic project that establishes
a connection between thinking and drawing, in the realms of
arts and science.
56
It was initiated in 2014 when I met Mina Pegourie, the housemaid of an artist residence that
I attended in France. Mina is originally from Morocco but has been living in France for more
than 50 years. Since she is unable to read or write anything beyond numbers, her address book
is composed simply of contact numbers alongside corresponding drawings. Thus, I recorded
a video in which she presents the drawings in her address book together with the story behind
each one. After filming this work, I initiated a research project that establishes a connection
between thinking and drawing, collaborating with people from different fields, from scientists
to artists, ordinary people or children.
CONTEXT
Drawing is a common tool used by artists, scientists, technicians, ordinary people and even children. Many
people use drawing as a thinking process, in order to find a solution for everyday problems – architects,
plumbers or choreographers. Nevertheless, artists are probably the only ones who use drawing as a process
(i.e. a tool to think) and also as a product (i.e. art to exhibit). Thus, science has have become increasingly
interested in the ways in which artists think through drawing. A good example is the case of the National
Health System in the U.K. that evaluates the possibility of integrating arts into the health practice.
1 Damasio, A.
In science, drawing is usually perceived as a visualization skill. Scientists convert data
Descartes’ Error.
into
drawings
in order to quantity/visualize the results of their research, as it helps to get a
New York: Avon
clearer picture. In the artistic field, on the contrary, drawing is a tool to get inspiration and
Books, 1994, pp.
247–252.
to generate new ideas. The systematic use of drawing as a professional skill may have impact
on the structure and function of the brain. Therefore, the brain of artists is potentially diverse
2 ibid, pp. 34–71.
from other people.
3 Gaser, C.
Similar to walking, drawing has an impact on the brain, stimulating lateral thinking.
& Schlaug, G
‘Brain structures
Besides, when we draw the hand is connected with the brain through the nervous system,
differ between
contributing to the process of generating knowledge. As the neuroscientist Antonio Damasio1
musicians and nonmusicians’. Journal
proved the brain isn’t the sole decision-maker, as Rene Descartes had stipulated in the precept
of Neuroscience, 2003,
‘Cogito Ergo Sum’, because the body contributes to the process of decision-making. That is
23, 9240-9245.
to say that the body experiences emotions that are later communicated to the brain through
4 Maguire, E. A.
the nervous system. Damasio2 conducted clinical studies of brain lesions in patients whose
& Gadian, D. G.&
Johnsrude, I. S.&
emotions were impaired due to cancer, accidents and other forms of trauma. While these
Good, C. D. &
patients measured well in intelligence tests, they were unable to make decisions, in spite
Ashburner, J. &
Frackowiak, R. S.
of emotional trauma. Thus, this proved that emotions play an important role in the process
J. et al. Navigationof decision-making.
related structural
changes in the
According to neuroscience, our brain is in constant growth and its capacities can
hippocampi of
be improved through different activities, such as drawing, regardless of our age or genetic
taxi drivers.
composition. The brain’s plasticity occurs in different stages. It is believed that Neuroplasticity
Proceedings of the
National Academy
happens as we develop, and into adulthood every time we learn something new, and as a
of Sciences of the
consequence of brain injury. Actually, the more we use an area of the brain, the more it
United States of
America, 2000, 97,
develops; if we don’t use neurons, then they deplete. Moreover, different studies suggest that
4398-4403.
artistic training may impact the structure of the brain – evidence on this matter was already
found in different professions, such as3 musicians and taxi drivers.4
Nonetheless, only recently someone dedicated an exploratory study to the specific case
of visual artists – Dr. Rebecca Chamberlain from the KU, Leuven (BEL), conducted the research
‘Drawing at the right side of the brain’, which aimed at analyzing the impact of developing a
57
visual skill in artists onto the structure of the brain. The study was developed with students
5 Chamberlain,
R. & Mcmanus, I.
& Brunswick, N.
& Rankin, Q. &
Riley, H. & Kanai, R.
(2014). Drawing on
the right side of the
Brain: A Voxel-based
Morphometry analysis of observational
Drawing. NeuroImage. 96. 10.1016/j.neuroimage.2014.03.062,
pp. 163–167
6 L. Lacerda
(2016). Skype
interview. 10
November 2016
7 James, K.,
Engelhardt, L.
The effects of
handwriting
experience on
functional brain
development in
pre-literate children.
Trends in neuroscience
and education, 2012,1.
32–42. 10.1016/j.
tine.2012.08.001.
8 Wexler, B.
‘Shaping the
Environments that
Shape Our Brains:
A Long Term
Perspective’, in:
Cognitive Architecture
Designing Respond
Environment. New
York: Routledge,
2014, pp. 142–167.
9 Damasio, A.
Descartes’ Error.
New York: Avon
Books, 1994, pp.
247–252.
10 Damasio, A. Ao
encontro de Espinosa.
Emocoes sociais
e a neurologia do
sentir. Mem Martins:
Publicacoes EuropaAmerica, 2003,
pp.235–244.
from Swansea Metropolitan University, Wales, and Royal College of Arts, London, between
2008 and 2011. The results of the study point to the same conclusions already found in other
communities: ‘observational drawing ability relates to changes in structures pertaining to fine
motor control and procedural memory, and that artistic training in addition is associated with
enhancement of structures pertaining to visual imagery’.5
Thus, drawing may influence the composition of the brain, as well as increasing longterm memory. As Antonio Lacerda, neuroscientist of the Natbrainlab and institute of Child
Health (UK) clarifies:
It is proved that there is reorganisation in the brain. Depending on the stimulus – be it
visual or audio – there is a transformation – neuroplasticity. This change happens daily
in each of us, but on a small scale. The long-term change that affects the structure of
the brain depends on genetic factors, ambient, but usually takes more time to verify.6
Yet, today, we live in a world that is increasingly digital and visual; we perform less and
less physical activities, such as drawing or writing. Thus, this change will affect the structure
of the brain, as well as our ability to assimilate and process information. Several studies made
with resonance magnetic imaging (MRI) suggest that handwriting may contribute to a better
fine-motor skill development. For instance, in 2014, Karin Harman James, Assistant Professor
of Psychology and Neuroscience at Indiana University, conducted the study ‘The effects of
handwriting experience on functional brain development in pre-literate children’.7 The results
indicate that the neural activity of children who practice handwriting is far more developed
than those who don’t. Thus, computers are commonly blamed by diminishing children’s
learning ability and memory. Although some people also point out the role that iPads play
in learning languages, the skills are different, as selecting a letter is different from manually
drawing it. Nevertheless, the role played by electronic devices in the cognitive process has
changed over the recent decades, as a consequence of the digital culture in which we live.
Yet, we know, from different studies undertaken over time that the human brain evolves
accordingly to the context in which we live. That is how, in broad terms, human evolution has
been processed, since pre-history. As Bruce Wexler explains:‘ The most fundamental difference
between the human brain and those of other mammals is the greater extent to which the
development of its structure and function is influenced by sensory input’.8
Thus, perhaps the first distinction that needs to be made deals with the concept of the
mind. Hence, and although most people commonly associate the brain with the skull, thinking
is an integrated activity, which involves the body, and some argue that external objects are
actively used during the thinking process and even the environment. As was already explained
through the studies of Damasio,9 the brain is not the sole decision-maker, as the body plays a
role in the cognitive process, in the sense that it experiences emotions that are communicated
to the brain through the nervous system. In his book ‘Looking for Spinoza’,10 Damasio goes
even further to suggest that the brain may be a slave of the body, in that it produces emotions/
necessities that the brain has to fulfill.
What is more, Clarke and Chalmers (1998) took the concept of the mind further, in their
seminal paper ‘The Extended Mind’,11 in which they claim that external objects might be part
of the mind, in that they can be part of the thought process. They give as an example the
case of two friends who want to arrive at the museum. The first one relies on his memory
58
to find the place. The second one, who suffers from Alzheimer’s, has the help of his
In his book ‘Looking for Spinoza’,10 Damasio goes even further
to suggest that the brain may be a slave of the body, in that
it produces emotions/necessities that the brain has to fulfill.
notebook, where he stores the address. Hence, the notebook can be seen as a hard
drive, that accomplishes the same role of the biological memory. Hence, it should be perceived
as being part of the mind. Besides, not only patients who suffer from neurological diseases
might think through/with artefacts, as also ordinary people might follow the same procedure.
Clark and Chalmers give the example of the scrabble game, in which a player can complete
words by mentally rotating the pieces of the game; working on the computer, pressing keys; or
physically rotating the parts of the game. Thus, if the first gesture is perceived as intellectual,
so should the other ones, as the artefacts are actively part of the thinking process. The Parity
Principle coined by the duo establishes that if one object performs an activity that is perceived
as being mental, it should be part of the mind of the user.
Withal, one might intuitively oppose this idea, because if the objects are part of the mind, the brain is the centre
of it, thus, it does not play an equal role. Obviously, objects are not able to generate knowledge by themselves.
Moreover, visualization skills are part of what we perceive to be intelligence, and well-known geniuses are
recognized for having enhanced abstraction skills, which did not depend on external factors. On the other
hand, it is also common knowledge that external factors play an increasing role in all aspects of contemporary
societies, which seem to be more and more volatile, and permeable to change. Thus, perhaps, one needs to
change the criteria through which we look at events. American researcher Katherine Hayles considers that not
only is the mind composed of the brain-body and external objects, as a coupled system, it also extends itself in
the environment. As she pictures it:
11 Chalmers, D.,
and Clarke. The
Extended Mind.
[Internet]. New York:
David Chalmers,
[no date], available
from: http://www.
consc.net/ [Accessed
18/04/2019].
12 Hayles, K.
How do We Think.
Chicago and
London: The
University of
Chicago Press,
2012, p 3.
13 Wittgenstein,
L. Philosophical
Investigations. West
Sussex: Blackwell
Publishing Ltd,
2009.
59
The more one works with digital technologies, the more one comes to appreciate the
capacity of networked and programmable machines to carry out sophisticated cognitive
tasks, the more the keyboard comes to seem one extension of one’s thoughts rather
than an external device on which one types. Embodiment then takes the form of
extended cognition, in which human agency and thought are enmeshed within larger
networks that extend beyond the desktop computer into environment12
Finally, digital culture also raises philosophical questions in regard to the connection
between image and words in contemporary society. Ludwig Wittgenstein has suggested in his
book ‘Philosophical Investigations’13 that images are somehow subservient of words, in the
sense that we only know the meaning of an image because we have learnt it before through
words. For instance, if someone shows a picture of a bird, we know what it stands for, because
we learned the word bird, in written or oral speech. Nevertheless, in online communication,
the images are used as unique signifiers, alienated from the words. They become somehow
online symbols or voids, without any reference to the real world. Hence, the question arises:
What happens to human communication in this world of alienated images? How does it
impact our thinking process?
Obviously, there is no right answer to this question, as the effects of the digital culture
are not seen on a deep level in human nature. But, if the brain is always shifting its functions,
it is perhaps arguable that it will reconfigure itself, incorporating the needs of the digital
culture. As Lacerda states, the consequences of the digital culture ‘is something that we
probably won’t be able to see in this generation, but for sure, the habits that we have today
will change our species.’6
#exstrange: A Curatorial
Intervention on eBay
Marialaura Ghidini and
Rebekah Modrak
#exstrange map of transactions,
2017. Digital illustration by
Kelsi Franzino, Dimensions
variable. This map shows the
location of participants—both
artists posting to #exstrange
and strangers engaging—and
the trail of their transactions/
interactions
Rebekah Modrak &
Marialaura Ghidini
#exstrange was a live exhibition project using the online
marketplace eBay as a site of artistic production and
cultural exchange.
60
61
Artists created artworks-as-auctions for #exstrange using eBay’s interface and listing template
—the title, descriptive text, images, and pricing—as material for the work. The interface of
the e-commerce site and the chosen sale category– from Business & Industry to Consumer
Electronics to Tickets & Experiences, for example–became the space in which artworks
resided and were interpreted according to the specificities determined by their design: notably
the seven-day auction, the one-to-one user engagement, and socio-linguistic conventions
pertaining to online commerce. #exstrange grew into the largest artistic intervention ever
enacted on eBay, spanning four months of daily auction launches by over eighty artists from
South America, the United States, Canada, Europe, Africa, and Asia.
As example, Bangalore, India-based artist Tara Kelton choose to place her memory
for sale within eBay’s Computers and Networking category—rather than contextualizing her
consciousness within a medical or biological classification. Though she sold a service—access
to her brain—that is intimate (a sharing of memory), her text is pointedly transactional and
treats memory as data. eBay, in kind, responded to her auction by proposing other “you may
also be interested in” data-based storage systems at the bottom of the listing.
Launched on 15 January 2017, #exstrange presented an artwork-as-auction a day until 8
April 2017. We connected all auctions using the tag #exstrange in listing titles. Viewers could
come upon the works while browsing the vast archive of commodities that is eBay, could search
purposefully for #exstrange within eBay’s search engine, or could enter the project through our
website #exstrange.com, which now serves as an archive for the project. These diverse types of
interactions asked users (artists and public) to negotiate various interpretative contexts from
the field of commerce, to the personal, the public sphere, and the art world.
We started the project by inviting 21 artists from nine countries to post an auction on
a particular day in a sequence of 21 days. Then we invited 12 guest curators to each invite three
artists according to their own interpretation of our curatorial invitation. And, finally, we took
advantage of eBay’s open access (no gatekeeping here) to circulate an open call. The project
led to over 100 artworks-as-auctions during the course of three months, spanning the
inauguration of a new United States president, the Women’s March, and North Korea’s tests
of a ballistic missile.
We saw eBay as an opportunity to explore the politics of e-commerce space as defined
by the global market without being a regulatory system ourselves. For example, eBay targets its
audiences according to nationally defined governmental policies and social codes and does not
offer service in many countries. Artist Joana Moll, Google trackers in North Korea official webpage
(2017)–commissioned by guest curator Bani Brusadin—offered proof of U.S. colonization over
North Korea because “Google trackers” are embedded in North Korea’s official webpage. Her
artwork/auction read:
“A tracker is a piece of data stored in a particular website that allows monitoring and
data collection of user behaviour. … Regardless of disagreements [between the U.S. and North
Korea], the developers of the official website of The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
decided to add a few Google trackers in the site, thus allowing the most powerful American
IT corporation to colonize their online presentation to the world.”
Moll’s ‘item’ was interpreted by eBay as “an embargoed good” because the artist
wanted to sell, as a souvenir, the Google tracker codes embedded in the official website of
The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea. eBay blocked the listing. When Moll tried to sell
the work from a range of other eBay national sites to circumvent the ban, the service kept
(above)
Marialaura Ghidini and Rebekah Modrak
#exstrange home page, 2017, exstrange.com
(opposite)
Marialaura Ghidini and Rebekah Modrak
Tara Kelton, “Human Internal Memory
Storage #exstrange,” 2017, eBay auction
originating in Bangalore, India, Courtesy
of Tara Kelton.
Curators: Marialaura Ghidini & Rebekah
Modrak
Using the platform of eBay for our curatorial work differentiated
our approach from that of curating in the gallery, the museum,
or in public space.
62
‘reading’ it as a North Korean (embargoed) good. The ways in which web services are regulated,
specifically the enduring problems of digital access and the rights to privacy and freedom of
speech that underlie such regulations, were revealed by the algorithmic inaccuracy of eBay’s
‘reading’ of the item up for auction.
When conceiving the #exstrange project, we asked “While browsing for items within eBay categories, what
types of encounters can happen between an artist and a buyer or ‘collector’ beyond the typical exchanges of
commercial web-space?” We wanted to explore the possibility of chance encounters in a space where people of
different backgrounds and interests could easily “meet.” The collective LEXX Exhibitor Space, based in Cholula,
Mexico, auctioned a street vendor’s tricycle normally used to sell corn, but with an enigmatic listing that
suggested being open to artistic intervention. The LEXX Exhibitor space and the potential bidder, who was from
New York, Skyped to talk about flea markets and shared interests in encountering art on the street where people
don’t intend to have an art experience. The buyer proposed keeping the cart in Cholula and using it as a site for
collaborative projects. They created a collaborative team called In the Air and the concession cart lives on as an
exhibition platform; invited guest artists create flags that are flown on the cart while the vendor sells corn. One of
the first flags was printed with text reading (in Spanish) “What do you really want?” One vendor especially loved
flying this flag because people usually buy the corn and leave but, with this flag flying, people wanted to talk
philosophically. First, they’d say: “What I really want is free corn.” Then, “What I really want is a happier life.”
Another group that used the opportunity of eBay as a means of global interaction was
the collective IOCOSE, who sold street protests. The buyer chose what the protest signs would
say. IOCOSE outsourced their message through crowdsourcing platforms to workers all over
the world. IOCOSE’s Instant Protest responded to the failure of online participation, such
as political petitions that generate thousands of signatures but yield little impact. Instead,
IOCOSE used a web service to protest in real time and space. The ten winning bidders from
all over the world each paid $10 to publicize political and social campaigns.
Using the platform of eBay for our curatorial work differentiated our approach from that
of curating in the gallery, the museum, or in public space. The artists of #exstrange became
actively involved in the process of creating the exhibition, and, essentially, built the exhibition
through their choice of categories and audiences. Silvio Lorusso sold Programmed Leisure (2017)
under the category Tickets & Experiences, auctioning a bot-generated programme of self-care
that would allow the winning bidder to ‘receive’ scheduled time off. Geraldine Juárez’s Press
Release (2017), listed under Collectibles, looked at how editorializing not only reframes and
adds value to an artwork, but it is also a sine qua non of the condition of the contemporary
artist. Juárez asked writer Andy Sarafan to write a press release for her work for #exstrange that
she then sold as a unique piece; thereby auctioning, in the artist’s words, “the clerical work
required by curators, venues, publications, funding applications, etcetera”.
Juárez and other #exstrange artists frequently used the context of e-commerce to test
and critique the economic infrastructure that dominates the art world, where labor is very
often valued according to unquantifiable terms—a practice that is alien to other fields of work.
Using the dynamic platform of eBay for our curatorial work allowed us the site-specificity of
working with real locations and objects and the advantages of transgressing space through
the virtual. By “exchanging with strangers,” #exstrange operated in an expanded field strongly
embedded in daily life.
63
The
Grid
Annie Morrad &
Ian McArthur
Our research proposes methods for how artists in diverse
global cities could co-create new online performance spaces.
64
Morrad (London) plays improvised alto, tenor, and soprano saxophone. McArthur (Sydney) broadcasts
electronics, guitars, and field-recordings. The connected, emergent qualities of our collaboration situate it
within telematic (Rofe, Reuben 2017) and technoetic art practices (Ascott 2008). Online platforms1 augment our
live performances through latency, creating unpredictable, ‘defective’ sonic artifacts. We embrace this uniquely
digital palette of additional textural information.
1 https://www.skype.
‘The Grid’ documents our engagement with urban grids, improvised music,
com/en/ and http://
participatory
processes, and radio-art throughout 2018. We composed and performed material
mixlr.com/
derived or inspired from our activities in London, Sydney, and Chongqing and deployed
2 https://wavefarm.
them in broadcasts, video, and installation works. The cities represent specific personal, and
org/ta/artists/x8grjs
professional links to us as practitioners. Our methods interposed real and conceptual grid
structures on: (1) London: via ordinance survey maps and overlaid hand drawn staves creating
‘music’ scores based on intersections in the boroughs of Hackney, Camden, and Islington; (2)
Sydney: via sound drones rendered in open source software where underpinning time-based
grids influence modes of composition; and (3) Chongqing: via field-recordings where elaborate,
broken city grids were distributed via China’s Smart Grid infrastructure – a communication
conduit largely ignored by the West. Wave Farm2 radio provided a regular program for
publishing our sound-art from New York.
LON DON
how do you map a city that is hundreds of years old. how do you map a city that has hundreds of years
of history each layer piled on top of each other, each meandering road leading to another meandering
road that leads you in the wrong direction when you think you’re going in the right direction. how do
you map a city that is constantly changing, consciously echoing bits of itself in different directions, how
do you map a city like that. maybe you think about a sound, maybe you think about a rhythm, maybe
you think about putting a music stave on top of this, placing music notes where intersections cross over
people’s lives and using people’s stories at those intersections. this was the process that I decided to use
when looking at london and thinking about how to map a city through a grid. using these intersections
I found various people who wanted to tell a story about the city that they lived in and you could say the
city that they loved,
these various people took me to these places that they loved and spoke about how the city
related to them in a special way, these people weren’t necessarily born in london these people weren’t
necessarily londoners, what these people were was not known, what these people became was
londoners. london is a most diverse place. london has avenues that turn into small streets that turn into
tiny mew’s that turn into corridors, dark and mysterious, london has all of this, london has different
smells, london has different tastes, london has something that no other city has. what it does share with
other cities is a system by which you can get through london, so using these systems, this project works
with journeys, this project worked with journeys upon journeys sometimes these journeys were on a
bus, sometimes these journeys were by train by underground by overground, sometimes these journeys
were by accident, sometimes these journeys were by foot, sometimes these journeys led to falling in love
with a stranger, sometimes these journeys were in the rain, sometimes these journeys were by torchlight,
sometimes these journeys were a mistake. these journeys had rhythm interspaced with chat.
65
WHAT HAPPENED IN LONDON AND THE PROCESS BY WHICH THIS OCCURRED.
My question was, what is this space? what is this London?
THE FIRST ACTION: I made the decision to have an ordnance survey map of different parts of
London as the starting foundation, this was to enable a sense of institution in the project, from this
I used another institution in the form of a music stave, which I placed on the ordnance survey map.
I used these, as a dressmaker would use a dress pattern, as a known quantity from which to produce
an outcome.
THE SECOND ACTION: I then randomly chose intersections on the ordnance survey map on
which to place the music notes, on the music staves. The reasoning for my choices was somewhat
arbitrary, but I decided that the music key signature was ‘C major’ and the rhythm would echo
West African polyrhythms, using the four beats as us walking through life and the three beats what
life throws at us. (I was once told this break down of polyrhythms in a pub somewhere, by a very
knowledgeable man, whose name I have forgotten!).
THE THIRD ACTION: To take journeys using the arteries of London through using public
transport, not black cabs, Ubers or such like, but transport that situated whole groups of people in
one place with the intention of going from somewhere to somewhere. My ‘intention’ was to gather
data through sound recordings via my iPhone, thereby not bringing attention to the fact that I was
eavesdropping in public. This data was in the form of the conversations people had with each other,
sometimes face-to-face, sometimes on their mobile phone of choice.
THE FOURTH ACTION: This was to interview people I knew, or bumped into at parties, or
friends of friends. Their stories were of certain places in London. These places were based on their
engagement with London and situated within or at particular locations. The interviews told of their
deep connection and physical connectivity to London and how this formed and informed their life.
THE FIFTH ACTION: To revisit the original music stave that had been placed on the ordnance
survey map. To discover how or if the journeys and the interviews matched up with the arbitrarily
placed music notes on what was now a music score. To now, also place the locations that the
interviewees had spoken about onto the music score. To now, also place the journeys as a flow/rhythm
across the music score.
THE SIXTH ACTION: To use the music score (A music score should be a guide or a literal
document? – for another discussion) as a ‘rough’ guide in the placing of journey sounds, interview
sounds, general sounds. To form a sound file of all the material/data. The journeys were the four
polyrhythm beats, the interviews the three polyrhythm beats? Or visa-versa? The journeys were the
flow, the interviews were the music notes? Or visa-versa?
THE SEVENTH ACTION: Me, where did I come into this, was I the conduit for the artwork?
Not unlike public transport is a conduit taking people from one place to another, not unlike stories
from the interviewees are conduits, telling of one place time in another place/time. Here, now
enters the saxophone, my tenor saxophone to be precise (I have others). I wanted my playing to be
a shadow in the corner, a shadow from the darkened alleyway, a shadow form the past/present/
I wanted my playing to be ‘London’, to be the essence of what London
is, to be this constant that is in each person who chooses to be called
a Londoner, mysterious, dark, light, happy, odd, other...
66
Annie Morrad
and Ian McArthur
Figure 1: Theoretical
Framework (Morrad,
McArthur, 2018),
Author’s Diagram
3 https://wavefarm.
org/archive/x18nrv
future, I wanted my playing to be a constant background (not literally, but in the memory), I wanted
my playing to be ‘London’, to be the essence of what London is, to be this constant that is in each
person who chooses to be called a Londoner, mysterious, dark, light, happy, odd, other...
The Grid forges a triangulated dialogic space where the potential of telematic
improvisation to generate “newness” impacting performers,
performance, and audience
occurs, through ongoing
disruptions (Campbell 2017) and
uncanny atmospheres otherwise
unavailable. Where possible we
collaborated with others. Morrad
conducted interviews with people
in London and incorporated them
into field-recordings. Facilitating
an urban mapping lab at Sichuan
Fine Arts Institute in Chongqing,
McArthur implemented a soundwalking process with Chinese, Australian, Singaporean, Argentinian, and American participants
that was documented and broadcast on Wave Farm.3
Sound-walking Instructions:
Form self-organised groups
Each group will be randomly allocated destinations across Chongqing.
Deliverables:
1. A sound map. Don’t look at your environment (a blindfold is a good idea)
Notate and/or draw the soundscape (minimum of 45 minutes)
2. A sound recording (10 minutes duration)
3. Photographs documenting the site
4. A ‘selfie’ photograph at the location
On site:
1. Wander and find somewhere to sit.
2. Be patient and quiet. Give yourself and your ears time to open up. It’s important to privilege your
sense of hearing over sight. Try to listen deeply into the environment.
3. Begin to note or draw a response to the sounds you hear. Note as much information as you can.
4. Try a combination of sketches and words
5. Give yourself 45 minutes for this.
6. Alternatively, blindfold yourself and have a partner guide you through the space noting sounds you
encounter. Create a map of your route and the sounds heard.
7. During your encounter make a recording of 10 minutes of sound. Photograph your environment and
take a selfie as evidence of your visit.
67
The theoretical framework (Figure 1) draws on ideas about society and rhythm (Lefebvre
2004), deep listening (Oliveros 2005), and understandings of ‘time’ as instantaneous moments
(Bachelard 2000). We test the parameters of performative ‘live-ness’ and the documenting of
live-ness (Ausländer 2008, Bailey 1993). Like Ausländer, we engage the telematic in proposing
new spaces where emergent forms of presence and co-presence can be established. Our
response seeks ‘new-ness’ – a “digital unique” referencing the improvised, ‘instantaneous’
inherent to our oeuvre. The significance of this is in how new-ness emerges within listeners
witnessing and experiencing the relationship between object and player, including our
response as artists to the unknown and unforeseen nuances that arise where live-ness includes
contributions of the non-human collaborator – the Internet itself. Our collaboration rethinks
improvisation as an emergent networked art practice, simultaneously leveraging traditions
of instrumentation (e.g. saxophones) but embracing generative and digital networks to forge
a new globally dispersed affect. In doing so, we explore the impact of mediated encounters
with performers and audience, and challenge expectations of performance spaces mediated
by online environments and their accompanying distributed space-time configurations.
4 The Wire,
422 (April 2019)
SYDNEY REFLECTIONS…
It’s after 2:00am when I get offline – around 5:00pm UK time, and 12:00pm the previous
day in New York. I feel disconnected. Not much I had planned meticulously over the previous days
had played out as expected. The samples and MIDI files I had programmed responding to the agreed
improvisational concept hadn’t felt or sounded how I intended in the disrupted swirl of the broadcast.
Bells manifested as string-like; pianos shrill, not jazzy (“brittle” they’d said in a recent WIRE4 review);
field-recordings I used as textures seemed drowned out. The screeching feedback and delay inherent
in our live work dominated much of the performance. Space left for the other performers was replaced
with ambiguous noise. After, Annie had said it was one of our best performances. She liked how we’d
“listened to each other”. As we played I felt relaxed, then anxious as things unfolded unexpectedly,
then focused as we struggled to reach some kind of sonic consensus as we progressed through two hours
online – then finally I let go – whatever transpired was ok … normal for improvisers I tell myself…
but what is ‘normal’ about this always unfamiliar space, this tangled engagement? … Listening back
afterwards I heard it too.
… the sound of artists 16,846 kilometres apart improvising through a wire.
REFERENCES
Ascott, Roy. Cybernetic, technoetic, syncretic: The prospect for art. (2008): 204–204.
Ausländer, Philip. Liveness: Performance in a mediatized culture. Routledge, 2008.
Bachelard, G., (2000). The Instant. Clinamen Press, Manchester.
Bailey, Derek. Improvisation: Its nature and practice in music. Hachette Books, 1993.
De Capo Press.
Campbell, Lee. (2016). Lee Campbell’s Tactics of Interruption. Toynbee Studios, London.
Lefebvre, Henri. Rhythmanalysis: Space, time and everyday life. A&C Black, 2004.
Oliveros, Pauline. Deep listening: A composer’s sound practice. IUniverse, 2005.
Rofe, Michael, and Federico Reuben. Telematic performance and the challenge of
latency. Journal of Music, Technology & Education 10, no. 2–3 (2017): 167–183.
68
And The World
Will Be As One
(opposite)
Jacob Olmedo
Series of Explorations 2018,
Wool and silk-hydroponic textile in Knit,
and tufting, Series of mismatch samples.
Jacob
Olmedo
And The World Will Be As One explores collaboration and community care
and knowledge, hybrid textile techniques and a twenty-first century way
of thinking about spaces, fashion, and farming. While using sustainability
as a practice in consideration that is driven by empathy. When making
with empathy for people, practice, our environment, we start designing
for a positive, progressive future.
70
71
72
(opposite)
Jacob Olmedo
And The World Will Be As One 2017,
Hydroponic Textile, 20” X 33”
Image by Teagan West,
Model: Valerie Grapek
(above)
The Studio Cohort
(Redding Connecticut), 2018
73
In the Wake
of Museul
Whiteness
Macushla Robinson
Dancers on the Daru Staircase,
The Louvre. The Carters. 2018.
Apeshit [film still]. Available
at: https://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=kbMqWXnpXcA,
accessed April 24, 2019.
Macushla
Robinson
There is a ghost ship haunting The Carters’ filmclip for Apeshit.
Although the ship is by no means the most overt theme of the
video, we shouldn’t ignore its persistent presence.
74
The ship appears explicitly in two sites: The Winged Victory of Samothrace in front of which The
Carters and a troupe of dancers perform, and Gericault’s Raft of the Medusa in front of which
Jay-Z performs solo. The museum’s collection is inseparable from, indeed contingent upon,
colonial violence and slavery; it was the ship—the technology of European naval power—that
brought much of the museum’s collection to France; it was often the very same ships that
brought enslaved bodies to plantations.
This film clip is not staged anywhere or indeed elsewhere, not in the periphery but in the very heart of the colonial
French metropole. Yet the Louvre holds the elsewhere of European empire within it. Museal whiteness is not an
omission of people of color, but a wholesale consumption of them, an act of swallowing up and metabolizing.
The colonized world may not be visible, but it is constitutive.
1 Clementine Deliss,
Manifesto for the
Rights of Access to
Collections, 2018, np
Under the Seine in Paris,
where sleep, in the holdings
of ships built for slavery,
these muted bodies,
these human remains.1
The Louvre’s galleries extend the slave ship’s hold. Beyoncé sits at the base of The Winged Victory of Samothrace
at the top of the Daru staircase. The statue represents the Greek goddess Victory—also called Nike—alighting
atop the prow of a ship. Taken from the island of Samothrace in 1863, The Winged Victory has been the subject
of an as-yet unsuccessful repatriation claim. The statue commemorates a Roman naval triumph (though we
don’t know exactly which one). In a way, its prominent display in the Louvre marks the ‘victory’ of the French
colonial empire over its dominions, from colonies in Africa and Asia to the Caribbean sugar islands. But in The
Carters’ use of it, the figure becomes a marker of something else: the victory of the oppressed, the survival and
flourishing of the descendants of the enslaved.
Two minutes and six seconds into Apeshit, the music comes to a sudden halt. It isn’t
silent, exactly—it resonates with the ringing of a church bell while panning over dancers,
paintings and vignettes. We feel the weight of this pause. Everyone in the museum is still,
as though collectively holding their breath. The camera pans across a scene of dancers laying
on the Daru staircase beneath The Winged Victory. In this suspended moment, these women
suddenly bear an uncanny resemblance to the infamous Stowage of the British Slave Ship ‘Brookes’
which was published in 1788 and circulated as an abolitionist image. This schematic shows
enslaved Africans packed into the ship’s hold.
2 Édouard Glissant,
The steps on which they lay echo the interior of the ship’s hold, shown in cross-section
Betsy Wing (trans.)
on the diagram. The ship itself has a stepped quality to it and describes how the enslaved were
Poetics of Relation
(Ann Arbor:
‘stored’ “by means of platforms or shelves in the manner of galleries in a church.” Let’s not let
University of
the linguistic resonance escape us. The diagram demonstrated that these human beings were
Michigan Press,
1997) pp 5-6
treated as things, but it does not capture the experience of the hold.
75
Imagine 200 human beings crammed into a space barely capable of containing a third of them.
Imagine vomit, naked flesh, swarming lice, the dead slumped, the dying crouched. Imagine,
if you can, the swirling red of mounting to the deck, the ramp they climbed, the black sun on
the horizon, vertigo, this dizzying sky plastered to the waves. Over the course of more than two
centuries, twenty, thirty million people deported. Worn down, in a debasement more eternal
than apocalypse. But that was nothing yet.2
To fill this gap, the film gestures toward the violence of the hold with its repeated turn
to Gericault’s Raft of the Medusa. The painting represents a wreckage off the coast of modernday Mauritania. Six life boats did not hold all 400 on board: 146 piled onto a makeshift raft
that was to be towed behind the boats, but was jettisoned after only a few miles, already half
submerged. Of those abandoned on the raft only 15 were rescued, and only 10 survived. The
painting depicts the moment when a ship appeared in the distance, the possibility of survival
animating the bodies of those reaching skyward. Three of the fifteen figures in the painting are
black men. Although the painting does not depict a slave ship, it is thought that Gericault was
sympathetic to the abolitionist cause. Here, this disaster at sea stands in for the disaster of
deportation and enslavement—the violent rupture of the middle passage.
Laying prone beneath a stone ship’s prow, the dancers on the Daru staircase recall
the inert, thingified bodies shown in the Brooke’s diagram. We might imagine them as the
ghosts of ancestral slaves, those who did not make it through the middle passage to centuries
of plantation slavery, the ones whom Christina Sharpe reminds are still present in the oceans
in a ghostly molecular form. But they do not hold still for long; soon they begin to rise—lifting
their heads, hands and feet, reaching upwards in rhythmic motions. For this is not death,
though it passes through its terrain. This is a triumphal dance celebrating generational
survival. In Poetics of Relation, Edouard Glissant proclaims the victory of spoken over written
language, of creole, of the coming together that is enacted in the voice. Reminding us that the
archives of slave societies cannot ever define the enslaved, he embraces liquid becoming and
fluid black being.
3 Glissant, Poetics
of Relation, 1997, p 8
For though this experience made you, original victim floating toward the sea’s abysses, an
exception, it became something shared and made us, the descendants, one people among others.
Peoples do not live on exception. Relation is not made up of things that are foreign but of shared
knowledge. This experience of the abyss can now be said to be the best element of exchange.
This is why we stay with poetry.3
Likewise, Apeshit asserts the inability of the museum to define those colonized and
traded people sacrificed for its riches.
Beyoncé performs in front of several iconic images that set the benchmark of female
beauty to white femininity and, as has been widely pointed out, she reclaims this space and
counter-asserts the black female body as beautiful and strong. Apeshit gives us glimpses of
non-white bodies scattered throughout the museum’s holdings. As Kimberly Drew, who tweets
as MuseumMammy, points out in her comments on the video – Black people have always been
there. I can’t believe we made it, Beyonce sings, but she can – she has been here all along. The
film clip features Benoiste’s Portrait of a Negress, a painting that is rare because it was made by
a woman (one of the few who made it into the annals of art history) and because it centers a
black woman. She is not a maid or a servant in the background of the painting, but its subject.
About her, we know very little. She does not meet our gaze but looks over our shoulder to the
middle distance. We can never know what she is looking at, what she sees. But she is joined
by these beautiful black women who bend and sway in a lively, fleshly retort to the museum’s
stone holdings.
76
We can never know what she is looking at, what she sees. But she is
joined by these beautiful black women who bend and sway in a lively,
fleshly retort to the museum’s stone holdings.
Macushla Robinson Stowage
of the British Slave Ship ‘Brookes’
under the Regulated Slave Trade,
Act of 1788 ca. 1788.
4 MC Master P in
Solange, A Seat at
the Table (New York:
Columbia Records,
2016)
5 Christina Sharpe,
In The Wake: On
Blackness and Being
(Durham: Duke
University Press,
2016). P 105
77
This piece is profoundly celebratory. But it is celebratory in the wake, and it takes joy
in the survival without forgetting what it took to survive. The film claims the space of royalty –
this is clearly marked by the scenes in front of David’s Coronation of Napoleon but also in
the regal affect of these two performers. As New Orleans MC Master P says at the close of
Solange’s last album, “We come here as slaves, but we goin’ out as royalty.”4 While the Louvre
is an instantiation of the slave ship’s hold, and The Carters’ occupation of it a triumph over
the hold. This is precisely because of the painful history that it rests upon. The Carters occupy
this site both because-of and in spite-of the brutality of the hold. The film says both ‘we were
here all along’ and ‘I can’t believe we made it’.
In the wake, the river, and the drowning are death, disaster and possibility. These are some
of the impossible possibilities faced by those Black people who appear in the door and dwell
in the wake.5
Matsushima
Bunko Museum
Ryota Sato Matsushima
Planted Grass, 2018,
© Matsushima Bunko Museum
Ryota
Sato
Matsushima Bunko Museum is located on the smallest
inhabited island in Setouchi sea called Matsushima in
Okayama prefecture, Japan.
78
The building is a repurposed old elementary school that was closed in 1989 due to a lack of
students and reopening as a museum in spring 2019. The project is commissioned by Kurashiki
city for the development and operation of cultural programs in this building and the area
around the site.
The group, including myself who started this new project consists of artists, designers,
architects, and musicians. We started to organize exhibitions and music events in 2010 out of
necessity. We felt the need as commercial galleries, non-profit art organizations, and rental
galleries were closing down rapidly in the city and there were fewer opportunities. Our goal
was simple. We wanted to create a network of local creative members through various events.
In 2013, we were permitted to use a museum which had been closed since 2006 due to
financial difficulties. After discussions with experts and local residents, we decided to start it
as a museum again.
We thought it will be interesting and challenging to replace the museum’s contents from
scratch. The museum was built by the wealthy family who made their fortune on warehousing
business since the Edo period and they had some important collections of traditional Japanese
paintings and artifacts but after the bankrupt, all of the works had been auctioned off to
unknown collectors.
The loss of their collection coincided with a decline of population and local businesses
around the area that filled the local community with a feeling of failure and nostalgia. The
demand for the new museum was high from the local community, ranging from bringing more
visitors and new residents, creating jobs, repairing their abandoned houses, opening a cafe
and to have somebody around to talk to. With these expectations from the community as well
as what we wanted to achieve, we named the museum Fukiage museum and it started in the
spring of 2015.
Our mission remained the same. To provide support for artists and local members through exhibitions and
events. At the beginning of this new project, we never felt the need for directors or curators or any of those
positions because we all worked together equally and thought we could operate a museum without any titles.
Of course, this decision had created many problems for us but we never changed our minds about it even now.
One of the problems with this decision is that we never really knew how to present ourselves without titles and
people never knew who is responsible for what. It became messy when it comes to decision making. We had to
talk to each other all the time and we constantly had a communication problem.
None of us had any experience in operating a museum before. We had a goal to create
a network of artists but when it came to programming, we had little idea about how to brand
our museum through programs. Few advisers had ideas and suggestions, but we couldn’t
decide. So, in the end, we vaguely decided to do things that other real museums can’t do. One
different thing that happened compared to conventional institution around the area was giving
up responsibility to brand ourselves internally. This happened naturally as we started the
museum without knowing what to do and hoping that we will have more fixed ideas later. Also,
we wanted to invite participants to decide how they want us to become rather than finding a
neutral benefit for both artists and the museum. Although there were problems in defining
what we are, we liked the fact that it was a collective effort to operate the museum and running
a museum became more like a collaborative artwork.
One of the interesting outcomes of this attitude was a program led by one of our
architect member Shinsaku Yamaguchi who started a walking program around the museum
79
to record and study the condition of narrow passages of this small town. After one year of
workshops, he made a hypothesis that some of the passages could have existed for more than
15,000 years. As they accumulate more information, the work takes ever-evolving forms of
maps, data, the walks, conversations, and the discovery.
During two years of operating the Fukiage museum, we were fortunate with artists and
local members to come up with programs. However, we faced a crucial problem. We didn’t
make any money and the funding had dried out. Unfortunately, we had to close the museum
in 2017 due to a similar problem as the previous museum.
Before we started the Fukiage museum, I have predicted that financially, running this museum will be impossible
and strongly reacted against taking up this opportunity to restart a museum. My prediction was right, and we
failed to accomplish local members wishes but I have changed my mind about doing this project. We all saw the
potential of collaboratively working together to shape and manipulate the museum. In the end, we didn’t feel
having exhibitions and talks provided the network that we hoped for. The relationship between the museum and
the audience was too static. We provided something and people came and saw stuff. We became more interested
in doing something dynamic like Shinsaku Yamaguchi’s project where project shifts according to participants
and the environment. We wanted to operate similarly to our museum and now we had a new opportunity.
In 2016, our group was approached by Kurashiki city to develop and operate new
programs for a museum on Matsushima island. Despite the fact we failed, Kurashiki city has
given us a new chance.
The location of the museum is not ideal. There are no regular ferries that go to the
island. You have to take a private boat. Many were surprised we even took this new opportunity.
People thought this project will be tougher than the Fukiage museum. I think they are right.
When I heard about this opportunity, I thought we will fail again and felt it is a stupid idea. But
this was a good sign. At that time, we considered failure as a part of natural development. After
the Fukiage museum, we all realized it was worth pursuing the museum project even though
it seemed unfeasible and unrealistic. Without doing the Fukiage museum project, we would
have never given a new opportunity. So, we decided to move to Matsushima island. We called
it Matsushima Bunko Museum.
Just before I joined the museum member in 2018, I was told that we cannot call the building Matsushima Bunko
Museum, but we can call our activity Matsushima Bunko Museum. I was shocked because we already made
our name public. I was struck by how open Kurashiki city cultural development department was in calling
our activity a museum rather than a fixed building. After a while, I find it an opportunity for us to play with
the notion of what museum can be. It meant that they were willing to experiment with new methodologies for
developing a cultural institution together.
In the spring of 2019, I started to work on the Matsushima island. Maintaining the island
and the operation of the museum as well as working with two residents on the island. We need
permission to do anything from the residents at all the time. To cut grass, chop down bamboo
trees and planning events and everything. It seems like they have permission to do anything
even on the land which they do not belong to. I have started to regard them as king and queen
on the island. The true ruler of the island.
One day, my queen had started to plant grass on the edge of our museum garden.
We have strict rules on how to maintain the garden, planned by our garden designer but we
decided not to interfere with her work. Her work seems different from other gardener’s jobs.
She picked particular grass from the field next to our garden and plant them neatly with
few bits of seaweed beautiful arranged near the plants. I regard them as artists, but we
80
need to build a framework so that we can represent their work at the museum without
It seems like they have permission to do anything even on the land which
they do not belong to. I have started to regard them as king and queen on
the island. The true ruler of the island.
Ryota Sato Matsushima
Bunko Museum, 2018,
© Matsushima Bunko Museum
81
objectifying them as artists or commodifying their work on the island. I don’t know how we
will achieve this, but I am hoping to build this framework with residents, community members
as well as artists in residents in the future.
Everything seems so good but again we have the same problem. We still don’t know
what to do. There were discussions but we can’t decide what to do, so we ended up abandoning
out the responsibility of coming up with a goal entirely and leaving it up to the participants to
decide with us. We decided that the only thing the museum offer is an invitation. An invitation
to build programs, platforms and the museum itself. The exploration of what museums can
be became our central conversation and we all agreed that one of the main functions of any
museum is to provide education and our museum will attempt to provide the same. By actively
engaging in the development of the museum together, Matsushima Bunko Museum hopes to
provide education through participation, not by offering lessons.
Textiles as Art, Culture,
and Science: Discovery of the
Ephemeral and Perennial
Imprints Through Modeled
Ecosystems
(opposite)
Luciana Scrutchen
Gathering the Coveted, 2017,
digital photo of Lichen
from Juneau, Alaska, print
and Kaledo textile design,
11.4 x 25.4 cms
Luciana
Scrutchen
As a textile artist the level of engagement in all of my research begins with
the necessary creative stimulus of every textile making process; whether
spinning fiber, weaving cloth, hand-dyeing, or printing, all manner of making
draws me ever deeper into an understanding of this ancient art form.
82
My personal history underpins my desire as a maker of textiles, textile arts, and educator. My
need to understand why I always felt drawn to textiles and regarded them as something to be
revered can be found in my ancestry, which has records tracing back six generations to the late
1700’s—early 1800’s, with vague terminology, purposefully obfuscating the word slavery with
forced labor. Although it’s impossible to get a clear view of an individual’s specialties or tasks
from that period, slaves were considered property so records do not list titles or positions.
Although it is safe to say slavery most certainly fostered a subsistence existence which didn’t
end when slavery did.
My grandmother was a well-respected seamstress in her community. She was not
allowed to try on clothes or shoes when shopping in a clothing store, therefore she’d buy
a garment blindly in the hopes it would fit properly, and make alterations and tailor as
needed. She learned patternmaking and created her own patterns which she’d reuse. But
quality materials and textiles were difficult to come by and were prohibitively expensive. Her
materials, patterns, and garments, were precious. They required skills that were not common
knowledge and materials that were exceptional to their subsistence culture. This is why I’ve
always felt the need to preserve and respect textile materials and patterns. They are precious
to me because they were precious to my family.
Working in the fashion industry and as an educator allows me a wide breadth in which
to produce patterns, textures, and dyes for cloth, leathers, or skins but I find fresh inspiration
with practices that fall outside of industry standards of mass production, existing in that
intersection between bio-science and micro-agrarian cultures. My research and art have been
informed by the philosophies and practices of subsistence cultures and sustainable systems in
the Americas. By seeking knowledge from and with these communities I aim to find context for
ecological thinking born out of necessity. Understanding the history and current practices of
cultures that exist on the fringe of existence who remain mindful and conserve their precious
resources provides a baseline for necessary sustainable practices.
This led me to take my research to Alaska, whose harsh climate and isolation from the contiguous states
maintains numerous subsistence cultures. The Alaskan natural resources are often non-traditional and its
people still live off the land with few modern conveniences. My process of research is empirical observation,
collaborations with native artisans or resource managers, collecting oral histories, gathering and exploring source
materials, and personal artistic experimentation and creation. In this manner, I can have first-hand knowledge
free of influence by others who may be doing similar study or research. My collaboration with indigenous
artisans allows me to learn traditional techniques necessary to process raw materials or create textiles unique to
a particular system. From indigenous people who have mastered ancient practices of natural dyeing and tanning
to farmers and conservationists expanding into new fields of Muskox qiviut gathering and aquaponic farming, all
ideas are rooted in some form of sustainability and each has merits and drawbacks. In a culture and area of the
country that relies on subsistence living nothing is wasted and everything must find a use that sustains not only
the population but also the resource. Every collaboration, every new exploration, every new material can produce
surprising and beautiful results in my making process.
83
GATHERING THE COVETED
The most immediate form of visual stimulation can be pulled from natural materials that
drive and inspire fractal patterns or color variations. The delicate tendrils of lichen or the
subtle natural striped ombre of whale baleen can be translated through digital textile design
and make its way into fabric production, which is a way of honoring rather than appropriating
indigenous culture. Although subtle and obscure, the mere suggestion of nature can trigger
an emotional response in a viewer even if they don’t recognize the visual reference or source
of the design.
I gathered lichen from the Arctic and Rainforest regions, interested in creating natural
colorants and dyeing techniques with these composite organisms that are both an algae and
fungi species. I sought out the coveted resource in Juneau at Tongass National Forest, with the
permission of the Park Rangers I gathered several different genus samples, including Usnea,
Ramalina, Cladonia, and Shield lichen. The fragile ecosystem relies on the important role
that lichen plays as food for reindeer during lean winter months and a decomposing agent for
wood and rocks. Lichen grows in some of the most inhospitable environments, requiring very
little water, and has explosive growth spurts in the continuous daylight hours during Arctic
summers. It is necessary to create topsoil in an area where few leafy plants grow that would
otherwise provide organic material. Lichen, however, has a fragility to air pollutants. While
it’s able to gather nitrogen from the air for its use and deposit necessary nitrates into the soil,
it will perish in a polluted environment. Because of its crucial place in the ecosystem naturally
grown lichen cannot be harvested in sufficient quantity to supply mass production. The small
amounts of specimens I gathered for research would be enough to produce only the meagerest
amount of natural dye but the results were wonderfully surprising. A future sustainable
practice for harvesting lichen for industrial dye purposes could only be considered within
a controlled hydroponic environment. I found inspiration in lichens fragile beauty juxtaposed
with the strength of this plant that could decompose rocks, which in my mind created a
beautiful symmetry for digital exploration. I created a black and white pattern for
a woven textile that encompasses both properties of lichen; that of soil creator as indicated
by the vertical strata of the design, and as an environmental indicator of negative
changes created by man represented by the harsh black horizontal bands that interrupt
84
the natural flow.
Lichen, however, has a fragility to air pollutants. While it’s able to gather
nitrogen from the air for its use and deposit necessary nitrates into the
soil, it will perish in a polluted environment.
(opposite)
Luciana Scrutchen
Scrimshaw and Baleen, 2017,
digital photo from Iñupiat
Heritage Center, Barrow,
Alaska, 25.4 x 11.43 cms
85
(above)
Luciana Scrutchen
Instinct of Ethereal, 2016,
painting with live microbes
on silk, 18.2 x 25.4 cms
IMPRINTS OF SUBSISTENCE CULTURE
My preconceived assumptions of native culture and regional environments were shattered
during my investigations. Historical garments, housed in the Heritage Museum, changed my
idea of a singular Arctic climate. Alaska contains several different climates and ecosystems
and each area requires different methods and materials for useful clothing and textiles, while
local natural resources dictate a vast array of dye techniques, ornamentation, and aesthetics.
But always, function necessitates form.
Alaska’s diverse ecosystems, from the Hyper-maritime rainforests to Boreal Forests,
and Arctic Tundra, supports aboriginal cultures dependent on the flora and fauna sustained
within the varied climate conditions. Barrow, Alaska, on the northernmost tip of the state, in
the Arctic Tundra is such a place where subsistence is not dependent on plant life. Historically
the populous relied upon whaling, fishing, trapping, and hunting as the only means of survival.
Evidence of Barrow’s history of subsistence was displayed in a small curio shop/museum, in
the form of a pair of polar bear pelt pants and hand-stitched sealskin mukluk boots. While
such precious pelts evoke emotional triggers in a world teetering on extinction events, it
should be remembered that these items were created for survival, not novelty, and no element
of any hunt was ever wasted.
Whale hunting continues to be important to Barrow denizens and are still used for meat, fuel, and their tanned
skins used for boat hulls. I found the Baleen filter, from the whales, very interesting. The keratin filter is made of
a very coarse, fibrous material, much tougher than hair but a bit softer than fingernails. Although I did not find
any evidence of it currently being used in textiles or weaving, I couldn’t help but wonder at the possibility. While
there was a practical use for almost every part of a whale, the parts that might be discarded in modern industrial
fishing are used as source material for a local Barrow artisan. The craftsman utilized the two long teeth of the
Baleen Whales to create storytelling scrimshaws depicting indigenous people ice fishing amongst walruses, polar
bears, and breaching whales. Full platters of fish celebrate the bounty of what is provided by nature. Historically
scrimshaw storytelling may have been an old form of communication, but in today’s society, one has to wonder
if it isn’t more of a luxury item.
FARMING SCIENCE
The crux of my research in Alaska was to investigate and understand the cultures and
resources, from the indigenous past to the present, to come to an understanding of the issues
of sustenance, commerce, and politics that shape the community and individual lives. When
a culture lives so closely tied to natural resources to survive, are their methods of process and
production ecologically viable, sustainable, and possibly scalable?
Sustainable cultural practices can be found in the outskirts of Anchorage in the
Subarctic Tundra regions, where grasslands plains are abundant. Farming cultures of reindeer
and muskoxen, are abundant. The muskox is not native to Alaska but its hearty nature is
a natural fit in a brutally cold environment. Muskox wool is in keeping with all ideals of
sustainable practices and Alaskan farmers are poised to scale up as demand requires, adding
to the local economies. The qiviut wool is warmer and more durable than sheep’s wool,
softer than cashmere, and doesn’t shrink in the wash. Aside from its textile quality, it is very
sustainable and completely humanely as it’s gathered from trees and bushes in the spring
after they molt.
Salmon fisheries of the Bristol Bay and Aleutian Peninsula sustain local culture
86
and economy but are fraught with problems of overcrowding and excessive waste
Luciana Scrutchen
Subtle Conglomerate, 2018, Digital print
prototype of woven pattern for Alaskan
plied fibers including bacterial dyed
fiber, baleen, fish leather, pelts and
qiviut, 25.4 x 15.2 cms
87
material. I am inspired to find a purpose for waste products to create sustainable practices.
Salmon skins are already being reclaimed for supple yet strong leathers as demand dictates.
I have been experimenting with the fish waste material for bacteria-produced dye pigments
with beautiful results. While I have been approaching bacterial dyeing from a purely aesthetic
and artistic point of view, the intersection of dyeing science coupled with the recycling of
unexpected source materials can be scaled up and creates more sustainable practices for
mass production.
I am inspired by all the new materials I’ve discovered in Alaska and digitally prototyped
my next weaving project, Subtle Conglomerate, to include the fibrous whale baleen, Qiviut,
salmon leather, and pelts, as a visual homage to all Alaska has to offer. Aesthetic versus utility
will be examined from the viewpoint of the wearer and textile practitioner. From a perspective
of systems, I am continually discovering that fashion has a natural comradery with textile
mechanisms for production that creates more sustainable outcomes. Solutions will be found
by pursuing dynamic natural occurring source materials that encompass minimal water use
and/or land cultivation that will help us design within the scope of renewability to both the
ephemeral and perennial.
The Common Ground
of Light and Dark
Leela Shanker,
The Common Ground
of Light and Dark, 2019
Leela
Shanker
The unexpected, encountered in public, creates a new public.
88
This living proposal is an evolving response to the question of how a city laced with newfound registers of
darkness and light may provoke or enhance relationships between its inhabitants and their surroundings.
The prompt is to create an alternate composition of photonic and social relativities from those of incumbent
site conditions. Moving from the status quo, we set in motion a series of consequential, circumstantial
relationships that begin in the material and spatial, continue to modify the experiential and have ultimate
impact in the interpersonal.
LOCUS OF THE GROUNDS
Light and dark are expressions that enounce the vocabulary of the impossible; being
phenomena of the ephemeral, the paradoxical, the often inexplicable. As a universal language
learnt before the mother tongue, light literacy is innate to all a city’s inhabitants. The potence
of light and dark as mediums of connection and communication are deepened by their
powerfully emotive nature; stirring the subconscious; speaking to our instincts before the
conditioned logics of acquired, rational knowledge intervene.
Though intangible, light and dark are also inhabitable, spatial conditions. Their qualities
are understood by the body despite being formless and possessing no physicality themselves.
Without perceptible mass, they yet hold certain weight of presence.
The “grounds” of shadow to luminosity are untied to a footprint. The continuum
of light’s scale and impact are instead plotted on axes of psychological and physiological
parameters. The bounds are unfixed and in constant flux as interactions between light, the
body’s adapting photoceptors and surrounding geometries and materials.
Departing from the sharp shapes of strong light, darkness plays a leading role in blurring
edge and form, thereby leaving fertile space for our own imagined narratives to be overlaid.
Encountered along the concrete and cobblestones of the city, the vitality of these projected
grounds bring light to our step.
Creating site specific work in public space may commence with relatively defined
physical location and conventional, physical, spatial dimensions. By contrast, working with
light as a found “object” involves sculpting the path of the invisible and casting the field of
void as opposed to its material extents. Choreographing its performance transposes process
to another locus: an exercise in mapping experiential territory.
89
THE COMMONS SHARED
The rhythm of a city is felt in the void of its open spaces. The speed with which its people
navigate its textured bounds, and where and when they pause to spend time in proximity
with strangers, cumulatively generate an energy. The textures of light and dark that amplify
that collective source of energy are a reflection of societal perspectives on social goods, crime
prevention, security and leisure, as much as demographics and economics.
An alternate light culture is the product of a new set of shared values. For example, the
quality of darkness embraced by a city is a litmus of the prevailing sense of trust between the
members of its community. A spatial and experiential commons defined by qualities of delight,
awe and curiosity transforms the way people relate in the immediate moment and the nature
of communities and cities that manifest ongoing.
Happening upon that commons - a place of unanticipated wonder - in the terrain
of the city has an augmented impact on the spirit, more than any planned spectacle or
performance. The discovery becomes a catalyst for the untethering of ideas and liberation
of previously held assumptions.
That same discovery, when shared between strangers, seeds common ground created in
one moment that becomes transformative in the next. There lies humanity within anonymity.
There too lie beginnings through unfinishings of previously prescriptive program and path.
And there lies romance with the city, caught by its unforeseen allure.
Countering shrinking and stagnant perspectives, the impossible writes itself into the
language with which we form the narrative of our Everyday; opening doors, grates and hatches
to Elsewhere and Elsewhen.
DARKNESS AND LIGHT: THE PROTAGONISTS
Darkness and light are fitting media with which to explore and convey relationships.
Shadow is a relationship with the mass of an object - obstructing the passage of light. Light
is a relationship with a material - travelling unseen in perpetuity until touching a surface.
Together, they are relative terms of each other; both coexisting in degrees. Disrupting and
reconstructing the path and quality of light as it makes passage between people, calls for a
framework of richer degrees of contact and potential interdependencies between individuals
and their environments.
The palette of dark to light offers a spectrum of conditions that accentuate the drama
of urban scapes. The spectacle of light catches the consciousness; a wink from the city that
inflames curiosity to stray from path. As the primary mode of reveal, light unveils the patterns
of the city and its moving parts. Inversely, darkness comforts us in its heavy quiet, immersing
us in the grace of stillness. Darkness draws a space in, and those within it, subtly closer. The
polarities hold evidently distinct experiential conditions and sense of proximity. We move in
light. We wear the darkness.
If darkness is the medium of intimacy, may it also be a medium of empathy? There is
a strange calming, an affirmation of humanity, to share stillness, in low light, with those we
are yet to meet. For those we have known, darkness aids carriage of sentiments from one to
another; the percussion of pronunciation and intensity of meaning amplified as the words
sail through deep dusk.
Quietening the visual palette with a layer of darkness provides for critical contrast when
the brush of light is applied. It allows notes of saturation to sound in celebration; full colour
given life with light. Contrast then becomes the guide to perceptual procession and rhythm
of reveal as light and dark become agents of anticipation.
POTENTIAL OF THE UNCOMMON COMMON GROUND
The street is a path to the new commons. Lit by compositions of darkness, our steps lead us
to other worlds. We taste the sweet recalibration of the Ordinary. Recognising our commonality
in delight, awe and curiosity we revel in the script of an uncommonly moving, common ground.
This is the scope of the Kinetics of the Unexpected. And the metric of time most valued is
viscosity; measuring the thickness of time shared, of engagement and heightened experience,
more than duration of contact. Here, the most concentrated and visceral of memories take
shape, played out by characters our imagination led into the space darkness and light left open.
90
If darkness is the medium of intimacy, may it also be a medium of
empathy? There is a strange calming, an affirmation of humanity,
to share stillness, in low light, with those we are yet to meet.
91
Leela Shanker
5 Strangers, 2019
What Happens if
Tommy Lee Jones
Doesn’t Write Back?
Mark
Shorter
92
93
Mark Shorter
What Happens if Tommy Lee
Jones Doesn’t Write Back? Lecture
Performance Documentation, 2019
Mark Shorter
What Happens if Tommy Lee
Jones Doesn’t Write Back? Lecture
Performance Documentation, 2019
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95
Filming A Quasi-Fictional
Cartographic Landscape
And Other Absurd Methods:
Typographic Landscape
Ecologies, Alameda, Ca, USA
Joshua Singer
Detail of filtered view of
semiotic legacy projection
megastructure, 2017
Joshua
Singer
Typographic Landscape Ecologies is an ongoing critical design
research project conducting various investigations in various
geographic regions. It examines typographic artefacts in the urban
landscape, the silent but potent language that surrounds us.
96
1 Christian Bök, C.
(2002) ’Pataphysics:
The Poetics of an
Imaginary Science.
Avant-Garde &
Modernism Studies.
Northwestern
University Press.
97
As an instrumental methodological design research project, it creates geosemiotic conceptual
frameworks and develops procedures for their visualization to test simple hypotheses of the
semiotic nature of typography in the human-made landscape.
As a meta-practice of design research, it operates as a stratagem to examine the
assumptions we live by modeling simulations of ephemeral cultural forces created by graphic
design and making conjectures about their role in the construction of a reality not readily
apparent. These ephemeral semiotic structures are conceived as concrete dimensional objects
in virtual digital landscapes. These structures are speculative at best, and, more often than
not, quite intentionally far removed from reality (but not much more so than anything else)
being arrived at through attenuated conclusions from equivocal relationships between
semblant variables.
It follows methodologies of ‘Patadesign research, a subset of the pataphysical sciences.
A science of imaginary solutions, ‘Pataphysics sits as far out from metaphysics as metaphysics
stands from physics. Just as standard physics expands, or maybe contracts, to quantum
physics and concedes other seemingly impossible behaviors to occur, practicing design
research beyond the metaphysical and into the pataphysical can extend our conceptual
framing to the outer limits of potentiality, and to the vastitude of exceptions possible within
semiotic urban landscapes.
As a method of Patadesign, Typographic Landscape Ecologies does not create
representations of geosemiotic space but rather generates pataphysical hypotheses of
geosemiotic space assuming that geosemiotic space is constructed by metered poetic syntaxes
of sequences and codes and that these sequences of codes can be hacked to create new
metered poetic syntaxes thus constructing new geosemiotic spaces and hypotheses. Christian
Bök sums up the efficacy of such a method when he says that “If poetry has failed to oppose
science by being its antonymic extreme, then perhaps poetry can attempt to oppose science
by being its hyperbolic extreme.”1
As a method of hyperbolic poetry, Typographic Landscape Ecologies creates syntaxes
for these hypotheses to visualize existent latent liminal prospective semiotic ecological
megastructures revealed through various filters illuminating invisible yet ever-present timespace structures generating in real time the typographic geosemiotic elements we observe
normally in the physical landscape. In Figure 4, for example, we see a Semiospheric Particle
Tunnel rising kilometers into the sky projecting to (and from) the quotidian artefacts in
a prescribed typographic semiotic biome. This projection is segmented into sequences of
indexical determinations each comprised of specific catalytic modifiers in the creation
of the semiotic biome in question.
This speculative composition of semiotic space and the others within the research
project are nothing more than the research’s entry point into a yet larger typographic timespace structure and framework networked with greater interrelations and entanglements
with other typographic artefacts across space and time.
(top to bottom)
Joshua Singer
Examples of typographic
artefacts, 2017, digital
photos
Joshua Singer
Screenshots from
Typographic Landscape
Ecologies, Alameda CA
USA, 2017, video 10:59
Joshua Singer
Detail of digital interactive
map indicating font style
of relevant historic periods,
2017
98
99
Joshua Singer
Letter Cone Space-Time Diagram,
2017, illustration
Three
Conversations
Bird Closet is distinguished by its playful, prankish nature. Members of the collective have
each assumed a bird alter ego and fashioned an accompanying mask. By conjuring an alternate
universe steeped in a rich self-mythology, Bird Closet creates a parallel space in which the
artists are free to pursue creative and social projects that may seem otherwise untenable in
the world as it exists. Far from escapist, the works of Bird Closet are meant to intervene on
material reality and inspire similar explorations by other residents of the area and beyond.
Bird Closet’s public interventions have included a series of three billboards installed at
the entrance to the village of Bethel on a major state highway, and the zine Fraxinus, issues of
which have been covertly disseminated in public areas around the village. At the heart of Bird
Closet’s public interventions are collages, which reconfigure language and imagery extracted
from relevant literature and the publicly available archives of the Bethel Historical Society and
Museum. By reappropriating fragments of Bethel’s history, Bird Closet invents a brand-new
idiom through which to voice new forms of community and new modes of social imagination.
As Bird Closet continues to evolve, one constant has been the use of Snapchat group
chats as a strategy for organizing and communicating. Bird Closet’s group chats ensure an
ongoing conversation in which members can share their daily lived experience, support one
another, voice their frustrations and concerns, discuss difficult topics, and continue imagining
new possible futures for the collective, their community, and the world at large.
The following are excerpts from three recent conversations in a Bird Closet group chat.
(opposite 124–125)
Francesca Fiore and Hillary Wagner
SOIL SERIES: A Social Drawing 2018
Bird Closet
(SOIL SERIES:
A Social Drawing)
In Bird Closet, teens who have played integral roles in the evolution of
SOIL SERIES become artists in their own right, working in horizontal
collaboration with one another and with SOIL SERIES’s founding artists
to create works that excavate Bethel’s past and use this history as
material for the creation of a new future.
100
I.
101
II.
102
103
III.
104
105
Elsewhere /
Tomorrow
Since ever the mosaic has been the medium for identity representation, storing a spirit in time for eternity.
On the contrary, the screen shows live images based on light. By combining the durability of the mosaic
and the ‘transient moment’ of the screen, we can make a mosaic of the present.
The oldest and most contemporary mosaic is the sky, visible from every place on earth. It
remains recognizable as the sky, while never being the same. Over decades, it served as a canvas for the
representation of society, its structures and its dreams.
To create a mosaic of the present, we calculate an image, showing the prediction of the sky in 24
hours. This prediction of the future is the stage for the negotiation of the topics of today, such as: power,
dreams, territory, ephemeral, Anthropocene, big data, surveillance
and spirituality.
This live image is supposed to be shown on a large screen, contrasting with the real sky and being
updated constantly.
Kaspar Stöbe +
Nicolò Krättli
How can Identity be represented? Identity is located in the present,
positioned between the past and the future. Since the past is given
by history, we need to oppose reality with a projection of the future,
to drag identity into the present.
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TWO SKIES
A proposal for an artwork placed as an LCD screen on the front facade of a childrens’ hospital.
Parallel to the progress of time, the sky image moves and shows 24 hours in advance. The
real sky contrasts with the future sky. It is a dialogue between the present and the future. The
image is calculated from a range of data collected worldwide. It is intended to captivate with
its affinity with the natural model.
This simple idea is the distillate of a conceptual analysis of the identity of the hospital. It stems from the desire
to redefine the identity of the entire institution by means of a contemporary work of art, a dialogue of technology
with poetry and a study of placing anticipated reality within reality.
HERE AND ELSEWHERE
The project Sky Of Tomorrow is a study commissioned by the hospital organization in
Datteln, Germany.
Our aim is to liberate the idea of the artwork from a specific location. The Sky of
Tomorrow can be installed anywhere on the planet. A change of the coordinates takes this
screen from one place to any other.
1 Friedrich
Nietzsche —
Ecce Homo,
Werde der du bist,
(How One Becomes
What One Is)
MOSAIC OF THE CONTEMPORARY
A mosaic stores a picture for eternity. Such an eternal image can depict an ephemeral subject
and keep it for the future. We equally strive to create an image of an ephemeral entity that of
the eternally changing sky, as a symbol of a constantly changing world.
In a similar sense, the identity of a person adapts continually to the world: new clues
are found, and old ones are repelled. The identity of a human being is conceived as something
ever-nascent and not as something static as Nietzsche pointed out.¹ Thus the mosaic of the
present also becomes a symbol of the nature of man.
WEATHER IN CONSERVATION
What is the weather going to be like tomorrow? This question is asked by everyone,
everywhere, all the time.
This simple question is the starting point for long intense discussions among artists, doctors, patients,
engineers, physicists, meteorologists, IT-specialists, interaction and game designers.
FASCINATION
The screen shows a picture that is older than any rock on this planet. The sky has existed
since the earth has had an atmosphere. And since then, the sun’s rays have broken into the
atmosphere’s water drops, which have absorbed the blue light. The heat of the sun, beating
down on the world’s oceans and the humid continents, makes the water evaporate, and rise,
and turn into clouds. This spectacle has accompanied life on earth since the first hour.
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SCIENTIFIC LOGARITHM
The project is a calculated “painting” from the large source of big data available from the global
worldwide network: meteorological data, aircraft movements, mathematical calculations of the
movement of the orb, data of migratory birds, which are collected to protect them from flying into
wind parks. Everything is joined together to form a digital vision of the future. This simple idea —
a humble statement — is an invitation for the observer to raise questions about today’s reality.
SYMBOL
The aspect of the sky is unique at any place at any time. And yet everyone is familiar with
it and can see it from every place on earth. The complexity of today’s global information
network, the Internet, is reflected in the complex genesis of this celestial image. It is a portrait
of our digital era. When asked how to create the digital “painting”, people have suggested to
simply record the existing weather over a year and replay a recorded segment of it according to
the weather forecast of the following day. This technique would show the future with playbacks
from the past. But since we want to make a mosaic of the contemporary, we want to stay
connected to the present as closely as possible. Records from the past are not acceptable.
2 Hannah Arendt,
in the prologue
of “The Human
Condition” 1958
3 Jean Jacques
Rousseau (1754),
On the Origin of
the Inequality of
Mankind
FUTURE OUTLOOK
Hannah Arendt stated in 1958 after the astronauts had flown out into space, that whatever they
explored out there, the most important discovery was the planet earth itself.2 The globe as an
object, with a finite expansion. The look up into the sky is a different one than the one down
to the earth. This elevation to the sky is the perspective of the human. The human condition
on earth. This is unlike the perspective of the world maps, the baroque divine perspective,
the perspective of the satellites, the perspective of surveillance. With this artwork we require
people to think about what our time and our networking is all about. We take the perspective
of a child in a meadow, who looks high up into the sky, a child that asks the questions, what
do I want to do with my contemporary possibilities? What is my potential and what do I have
to heed?
WEATHER FORECAST – A NATIONAL INSTITUTION
The search for the best data-source for weather modelling always led to national institutes
which provide the weather forecast. The reason for this is: In order to provide
the most precise forecast, one needs a super computer to calculate the forecast from a less
precise, world-spanning model into a more precise national model, (ICON [World, grid 13 km]
-> COSMO EU [Europe, grid 7 km]-> COSMO DE [Germany, grid 2.7 km]). In the end it’s
a matter of national wealth if a country is able to run its own institute of meteorology.
TERRITORY VS. BORDERLESS
Unlike a map, the sky cannot be divided by borders. The weather map shows the weather
within borders. The maps can be divided into very small pieces. And on each of these pieces
you will find at least one person, who demands the right of property. Jean Jaques Rousseau
stated once that “the fruit of the earth belong to all of us, and the earth itself to nobody.”3
The earth, as we know it, is still a divided place. The sky is unified. We do not want to
propose a future identity based upon territorial or national divisions. Free and boundless
must be the gaze of a child when it looks into the sky, like the one in the painting of Franz
von Lembach, The Shepherd Boy. It represents the wish of liberation in thinking and speech
in the time of Biedermeier. Back then, revolutionary people had to flee into privacy to escape
the constrictions of the nobility who relaunched the old system in the Age of Restoration after
Napoleon’s banishment. This boy, looking up into the sky, sees no divine assembly of angels
and popes ruling the world. He can simply follow his dreams and hopes.
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The human condition on earth. This is unlike the perspective of the world
maps, the baroque divine perspective, the perspective of the satellites,
the perspective of surveillance.
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Kaspar Stöbe and Nicolò Krättli
STREAM I - 13th/14th of April on the
12th/13th of April 2019, Installation
with LED-Screen at Fiktiva Festival
2019, Düsseldorf / Germany
4 Hans Haacke –
“Der Bevölkerung”
(to the people)
5 Yves Klein about
the sky: “Alors
que j’étais encore
un adolescent, en
1946, j’allais signer
mon nom de l’autre
côté du ciel durant
une fantastique
voyage “réalisticoimaginaire”. Ce
jour-là, alors que
j’étais étendu sur
la plage de Nice, je
me mis à éprouver
de la haine pour les
oiseaux qui volaient
de-ci de-là dans
mon beau ciel bleu
sans nuage, parce
qu’ils essayaient de
faire des trous dans
la plus belle et la
plus grande de mes
œuvres.”
6 Yves Klein,
exhibition “Le Vide”,
in Iris Clert Gallery,
1958
7 Vilém Flusser,
Informationsgesellschaft als Regenwurm, (edited in
“Kultur und Technik
im 21. Jahrhundert”),
1991, p.77
TO EVERYONE
Hans Haacke’s work of art, DER BEVÖLKERUNG, in a courtyard of the German Reichstag
building is an homage to all the people who live in this country⁴, regardless of where they
were born or what passport they possess. Today, identity can no longer be understood in
the collective, it is neither homogeneous nor national. The children in the hospital near
Dortmund, Germany, are both: children of Germany and Europe, but they might also be
rooted in Africa, Asia or America. Our artwork suggests identity as something boundless
and omnipresent.
THE MONOCHROME
Yves Klein was the artist who sat under the bright blue sky and willfully put his signature on
the lower edge.⁵ He did not invent the sky, but he established monochrome blue as art, as
his art. In this respect, the void space seems to be a consequence of his thinking. At a later
date, he exhibited the empty space of a gallery: “Le Vide,” the void space.⁶ He placed himself
in the room and told the people: “First there is nothing, then there is a deep nothing, then a
blue depth.” Here Yves Klein uses the void space — so to say the blank canvas — to evoke his
imaginary and immaterial and even invisible blue sky in the visitor’s head. The sky becomes
a deep nothing while it is being contemplated. In fact, it mirrors endless potentiality.
VANISHING
The artwork will not produce any deposits in the future. There will be no digital sedimentation
of past states. This work of art will not contribute to the collection of big data. We want to
prevent a digital Anthropocene. Showing the present without digital storage is a manifesto
against the trend of our digital age.
NOTION OF TIME
As Vilém Flusser put it:
“We have a different concept of time than our parents. For our parents, time was a
stream that flowed from the past into the future, did not stay in the present and tore
everything with it. Of course, this dramatic term is insane. First of all, time does not
come from the past, but from the future, and secondly, the present is what matters. If
we leave the historical picture of time and resort to the new concept of time, according
to which time arrives from all directions, from the future, and the things that come
from the future realize themselves in the present, according to which the present in
these things is then transformed into two kinds of past, that are transformed, processed,
on the one hand into retrievable, that is to say in memory, and on the other hand into
non-retrievable, that is to say oblivion.“⁷
110
111
High Island
Circumambulation
Andrew
Stooke
only imagination diagrams without stilling
emotional responses, worn smooth as they are exchanged
within the long duration of the live act
112
Andrew Stooke
Chat – felt and stone, 2016, Digital
print on Neoprene, 83 x 110 cm
113
Andrew Stooke
Moon (detail), 2018, Lambda print
light box, 32 x 57 cm
114
Andrew Stooke
High Island, New York, November 13,
2018, personal photograph by
Andre Stooke
115
The Cubby Cave;
the Raft; the Return
Threshold; and Sun,
Moon, Walk
The Cubby Cave was begun in 2014 and is built on my family land in regional NSW Australia, where I have lived
since the age of two. The Cubby Cave was built in the canopy of a fallen tree, which my father had cut down for
firewood two winters before the project started. The initial idea for the work was to spend time with my father
and reconnect with my cousin. This would soon develop into a body of work that explored rite of passage and
archetypal journeys.
Also included in this photographic essay are The Raft, The Return Threshold and Sun, Moon, Walk—which
followed the sun and moon with a mirror through the streets of New York City on a 24-hour personal pilgrimage.
They began at sunrise on the roof of my apartment in Bed-Stuy Brooklyn. I welcomed the sun by catching its
rays, reflecting them back with a circular mirror. I walked for the next ten hours following the sun, reflecting its
light onto the grey concrete, onto glass and steel buildings and onto the people that passed me. I walked over
the Brooklyn Bridge, through Manhattan, to the west side of the island. There I watched the sun as it set and I
turned, reflecting the almost full waxing moon. With mirror and moon in hand, I walked back through the night
for the next 12 hours, through the city and in the early hours of the morning back to the roof of my apartment.
The piece would end when for the second time the golden rays of the sun touched the silver surface of the
mirror… I had carried the sun and moon in my hands.
Shan Turner- Carroll
The Cubby Cave; The Raft; The Return
Threshold; and Sun, Moon, Walk,
2014 – 2019, photographic essay
Shan
Turner- Carroll
The Cubby Cave was begun in 2014 and is built on
Turner- Carroll’s family land in regional NSW Australia,
where he has lived here since the age of two.
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117
118
119
Ris
Publica
Jessica Winton
Domestic Cleansing, 2016, Mixed media,
dimensions variable.
Image credit © Katherine Knight 2016
Jessica
Winton
Ris Publica (trans: public laughter) proposes the site of the civic parade
as a unique possibility – as an event that carries forward a history
and infrastructure of civic culture, while containing potential for the
enactment of a diverse civic identity.
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In a humorous form of open, generous and joyful participation, the project ensconces itself in
the event of the parade by creating a semblance of conventional float entries.
To date, this project includes eight, large-scale situation-specific installations with an
aspect of public participatory practice. These multi-disciplinary projects have been sited in the
Halifax Natal Day Parades of 2016, 2017, in 2018 at Charlottetown PEI’s Art in the Open, and
an upcoming work in 2019 in the Apple Blossom Parade in Nova Scotia’s Annapolis Valley, all
situated in Canada.
METHODOLOGY
Ris Publica employs an approach that engages at the intersection of art, civics and everyday
life. The ensconcing methodology employed attempts to position audience participation and
response to an artwork into the format of civic festivity, thus hybridizing and expanding the
realms of aesthetic literacy. This approach has dual objectives – providing both visual examples
of participation to the audience and instruction to annual participants in tandem. Ris Publica
envisions expanded aesthetic literacy and fosters the use of this vocabulary through additional
participation promotion in upcoming years.
Delving into the complex interactions of agents involved in the public spheres, this project limits its direction
towards consideration of participation in the parade, rather than a specific platform outside of the event. By
using indeterminacy (of authorship and meaning) as a possible point of accessibility for the audience, Ris Publica
draws from the many strategies and concerns of the Fluxus movement, though distinctively, the intention of the
Ris Publica project is to politicize the annual civic festivity through an accessible and symbiotic form, rather than
contend the event itself has an “agency for action”.1
2 Rancière, Jacques.
This endeavor seeks to jointly engage members of civic society for the parade, which
(Gabriel Rockhill,
provides
the opportunity for the Ris Publica artworks to be recognized as having ‘exclusive
transl.) The Politics
characteristics and yet simultaneously shared experience’.2 The postulation is that through
of Aesthetics: The
Distribution of the
both the visual example provided by Ris Publica and participants’ experiences of each event,
Sensible. London
aesthetic
literacy will improve, and the public will regard the arts with increased value and
New York:
Continuum, 2006.
will thus increase heterogeneous participation. The results of this practice will be borne out
as Ris Publica continues over several years and events.
3 Beuys’ concept
of expanding
The creation of this work as sculptural/performative objects stems from an interest in
sculpture socially as
what Joseph Beuys described as social sculpture3 a methodology that elevates the importance of
a gesamtkunstwerk,
(a total artwork) for
the connection of the work to its audience over its form. Unlike Beuys, this practice eschews
which he claimed a
creative, participatory the celebrity status of the individual artist, thereby landing in the dialogical framework of
role in shaping
participatory practice. To the Project Anywhere audience, the explication of contextual politics
society and politics.
will remain vague, though assuredly the inaugural forms engaged deliberative environmental and
4 Hirschhorn,
time specificity to inform the content. Articulation of future versions will result in unique floats
Thomas, et al. Critical
laboratory the writings and performances being created, again derived from context specificity at time of creation.
of Thomas Hirschhorn.
The process of situating the first version in Halifax, Nova Scotia’s Natal Day Parade
Cambridge,
resulted
in (estimated) 40,000+ in public attendance. This is equivalent to the estimated
Massachusetts: The
MIT Press, 2013.
number of annual visitors to the two provincial art institutions of the Art Gallery of Nova
Scotia. This outcome is significant, in terms of reception to the expanded field of public art,
in that it reaches those whom Thomas Hirschhorn would describe as a non-exclusive audience.4
The participants, who are drawn to the project through various public media appeals
and word of mouth, encompass many from this non-exclusive group. This smaller group,
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somewhat diverse in age, gender, sexuality, socio-economic status, education, family position
1 Meyer-Hermann,
Eva, Andrew
Perchuk, Stephanie
Rosenthal, and Allan
Kaprow. Allan Kaprow
– Art As Life. London:
Thames & Hudson,
2008, p.82
Jessica Winton
Lorem Ipsum, 2016, Mixed media,
dimensions variable.
Image credit © Katherine Knight 2016
and heritage, experience the work as a socially engaged art project – co-creating choreographic
movement for each entry and contributing to the work’s own community through participation
in rehearsals and convening before and after the parade for discussions.
A unique consideration of this work is a typically unrecognized participatory audience – the 20+ members of the
municipal civic events administration and parade volunteers as well as local businesses that contribute material
and supplies. These instrumental participants’ involvement in authorization of this work thereby supports
its occurrence and recognizes its importance. Through this civic process, the Ris Publica project has officially
becomes a matter of public record, archived by the parade organizers.
5 Habermas,
Jürgen. Thomas
Burger, and
Frederick Lawrence.
The structural
transformation of
the public sphere:
an inquiry into a
category of bourgeois
society. Cambridge:
Polity Press, 1992.
Print.
6 Butler, Judith.
Notes toward
a performative
theory of assembly.
Cambridge,
Massachusetts:
Harvard University
Press, 2015, p.52.
CONTEXT
Ris Publica intentionally chooses the forum of the public parade believing it resists the logic,
values and power of financialization, as it occurs in an event largely unrecognized by typical
institutions of art. As such, the parade functions as a “public sphere”5 as Jürgen Habermas
proposed, and could be the method by which the civic structure is shaped and altered to suit
the dynamic needs of the people it ostensibly supports. In its ideal form, the civic parade has
the opportunity to graft the social identity of [non-partisan] registrants onto the viewers and
allow for a safe and welcoming arena for the multiplicity of issues at hand for the citizenry.
As Judith Butler puts it:
“To be a political actor is a function, a feature of acting on terms of equality with
other humans…The exercise of freedom is something that does not come from you
or from me, but what is between us, from the bond we make at the moment in which
we exercise freedom together, a bond without which there is no freedom at all.”6
122
7 Léger, Marc J.
Brave new avant
garde: essays on
contemporary art and
politics. Winchester,
UK Washington,
USA: Zero Books,
2012, p.3.
8 Lacy, Suzanne.
Leaving Art:
Writings on
Performance,
Politics and Publics,
1974–2007. Durham
and London: Duke
University Press,
2010, p.30.
123
The critical difference in the structure of a civic parade rather than a protest or
demonstration (what Butler’s earlier writing refers to) is that the purpose of participation
is simply [re]presentation, under the auspices of a civic structure. This methodology of
ensconcing the work within the civic parade (as opposed to a novel performance) not only
allows for a widening of possible viewership and participation, but also corresponds to what
Marc James Léger terms the “…sinthomeopathetic, which proposes a transformation of the
mediating functions of institutions through occupation and radicalization”7. In the case of the
Ris Publica project, the institution occupied being the civic event of the regional Municipal
Councils, transforming their function towards a more creative and representational venue.
Registrants have the potential to engage in this ‘public sphere’ via their own floats or
entries – which are the visible elements of the reflected community – allowing for the recognition
of one’s individual values, and the issues at hand in one’s social circles, amongst a plethora
of other concerns. This is what Suzanne Lacy designates the “activated value system”8 of the
audience with which art has the ability to connect. This activation could be seen as blurring
the distinction between ‘high art’ and social practice taking place on the tableau of society.
Ris Publica pursues the performance of humor-based critique within the civic event,
created for, and enacted by citizenry on public streets where strangers interact, with the
ambition of the existence of emancipated public spheres. These interests will be bolstered
when carried out in multiple locations, with engagement and participation strategies effectively
researched, by critiquing locally supported issues within local contexts and ultimately
disseminated via platforms anywhere.
The following practical descriptions, present the seven entries created thus far:
Domestic Cleansing: performers sweep around and under a 10’ x 16.5’ carpet, rolling two
inches off the ground and maneuvering with brooms that are attached to the rolling chassis by
cables. Additional performers glean the leftover debris.
Lorem Ipsum: a group of performers carry a banner with an intentional “placeholder” text
as the group name. Group member performers interact in a manner similar to a “wave” in the
crowd at an arena, passing movement through and across themselves, initiated from within or
from the audience themselves.
Sweet Nothings: oversized “candy” barricade with wheels. Three performers roll the futile
barricade slowly forward while a repeated soundscape of various global resistance movements
emanate from speakers hidden within the structure.
Good Intentions: performers work with the machinery and hand tools of a paving crew;
things go awry as they attempt to maintain the civic infrastructure – taking measurements
and flattening the pavement – despite their best efforts to do a good job.
Moving Mountains: participants carry or drag self-created mountains together, using
improvised moving methods towards their goals to change the scene, as the crowd applauds.
The Vision: participants display a visual representation of A. Maslow’s Hierarchy of
Needs wearing sashes indicating their own perceived level of attainment as they cross the
harbour bridge.
–waterline–: Participants perform as waves crashing forward, as others discuss the
ramifications of indicated of sea level rise over the next century in Victoria Park, Prince
Edward Island.
Walking
With Satellites
Christopher Wood
Walking With Satellites, 2016,
Publicity Shot, Ermoupoli,
Greece
Christopher
Wood
Walking with Satellites is an ongoing project to explore
the meanings held within the GPS satellite network.
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1 Salter, Burri and
Dumit 2017: 140
POETIC RESEARCH
It is situated within the wider use of what I call ‘poetic research’. This approach frames
and analyses research work using techniques borrowed from critical art practices. It builds
understandings of an infrastructure’s actions, or the “texture” of those actions by leveraging
symbol and metaphor. Salter, Burri and Dumit propose several uses for art practice in research
work including its ability “to question and critique the political formations of existing
practices”.1 I take this as the starting point for ‘poetic research’.
GLOBAL POSITIONING SYSTEM
GPS technology emerged from a Pentagon-funded research project in the 1970s and spent
much of its early life facilitating military operations, most famously in the 1990s when a
discourse around targeted ‘surgical strikes’ emerged. Here, missiles fitted with a GPS sensor
could be targeted and directed with a greater degree of accuracy than what was previously
available. Civilian uses of the GPS network were operated with deliberately low accuracy until
the year 2000 when it was decided to allow civilian users up to 5 metres accuracy. In the period
since, civilian uses of GPS have increased dramatically, especially since smartphones began to
incorporate the technology in the late 2000s. Now ‘location services’, commonly driven by GPS
are used in many smartphone apps. While we are likely most familiar with these applications,
GPS is also used to sync financial trades, predict the weather and track pets, children and
criminals. It has, in short, become a key infrastructure in the present socio-economic order.
In technical terms, the GPS system is a collection of satellites, ground antennas and control centres, operated by
the US military. A constellation of satellites circles the earth in a series of orbits designed to provide maximum
coverage at any given moment. The satellites each contain an atomic clock and constantly emit electromagnetic
signals containing a timestamp and satellite ID. A GPS sensor matches these timestamps with an almanac of
information about the positions each satellite is supposed to be in. The device then uses these pieces of information
to triangulate position. GPS therefore relies on a clear line of sight with multiple satellites to establish a location fix.
The ability to provide a fix is also a profoundly temporal operation, for the timestamp system to work, the speed of
the signal from satellite to device must be predictable. Environmental factors such as air humidity and reflections
as signals strike buildings may slow down signals and throw off a location fix.These technical elements are typically
hidden from the user. As a result, GPS technology can seem light and odourless when reduced to a flashing,
blue, ‘you-are-here’ dot on a map. Walking With Satellites seeks to bring attention back to the infrastructure by
leveraging architecture to create an experience where GPS fails, thereby inspiring reflection on the ways in which
meaning emerges across the entire network, rather than being concentrated in the hands of the user.
2 Ibid. 36.
125
FINDING TEXTURE
Bowker and Star argue that, in order to recognise “the depths of interdependence of technical
networks and standards, on one hand, and the real work of politics and knowledge production
on the other” (Bowker and Star 1999: 34), we can use a technique called “infrastructural
inversion”. This alienates us from our established uses of an infrastructure and offers
alternative histories and understandings. The way an infrastructure ‘acts’ to influence our
behavior and sociotechnical practices can be indirect and difficult to catch. This is because
it may not act directly but through the technologies which it supports. One way to explore
infrastructural action is through “texture”. According to Bowker and Star, texture is the ways in
which the actions of an infrastructure are understood by those who use it. In exploring texture,
the use of metaphor can be especially useful in forming understandings.2
METHOD
In order to make GPS infrastructure visible I organised walks in architectural sites which have
the potential to disrupt its smooth operation. This is usually done by picking spaces which
have limited lines of sight with the sky. These include narrow streets or building complexes
with covered walkways and underpasses. The walks often take place in collaboration with
existing arts programmes and the participants are unpaid volunteers. During the walk, each
person is given an android smartphone running an app which reverse-engineers the process
of location fixing, instead showing where the satellites are in relation to the device. I use a
commercially available app, GPS Test. After walking around the site individually for some time,
the attendees reconvene and draw and write responses to the experience. We then conduct
an open-ended discussion. I use what is written, drawn and discussed to establish themes
around perceptions of the infrastructure. The participants gain knowledge of how a hidden but
essential technology operates and are able to reflect back on that technology’s implications.
The emergent themes included a growing awareness of an electromagnetic realm
which was, at once, both profoundly physical and symbolic. This “field of signals” took in
GPS signals, Wi-Fi networks, reflective architecture and the human body. Another strongly
held theme was privacy and surveillance, particularly, a re-evaluation of the costs and benefits
of the user agreements through which we are able to use locative services. In the words of
one participant.
“Even though I’m using a service, the service is using me just as, probably more than,
it’s used by me. When you actually see just how many of them [satellites] there are,
I started thinking a lot more about the information flow the other way.”
MYTHOLOGY
Alongside this more traditional research work, I developed my own speculative project.
This was motivated by a desire to work more within a symbolic realm, offering an alternative
understanding of the infrastructure. In this project, GPS Tarot, I give tarot readings where
I arrange cards in a pattern to match the positions of satellites overhead. I then read lines in
the chart of cards in response to a question. The practice is not an attempt to tell the future,
but rather to provide space for participants to reflect on the present. The collective name for
an array of satellites is a constellation. This project echoes the storytelling and divination
potential people have long ascribed to the stars, rethinking the role GPS satellites play in
telling us where we are and where we are going. To date I have given several hundred readings
in person at galleries and over text message via the business card pictured here.
126
Christopher Wood
GPS Tarot Business Card, 2016
Christopher Wood
Walking With Satellites, 2016,
Workshop, London
127
Christopher Wood
Walking With Satellites, 2016,
Visual Workshop Data, London
Bios
128
AMbER EvE ANdERsON is a multidisciplinary
artist and writer whose work is rooted in ideas of
home and the experience of displacement. She is
a graduate of the Mount Royal School of Art MFA
program at the Maryland Institute College of Art and
is currently a resident artist at School 33 in Baltimore
and a regularly contributing writer at BaltimoreArt.
Her first self-published book, Free to a Good Home,
was purchased by the New York Public Library and
is sold at Printed Matter. She founded Ctrl+P, an
independent publishing project dedicated
ARchiE bARRy is an interdisciplinary visual artist
based in Melbourne, Australia. Their work embeds
language (spoken, sung or written) into gestures,
serving to de-form and re-form words as embodied
experiences. Their work has been exhibited at the
Australian Centre for Contemporary Art, The State
Library of Victoria, The Centre for Contemporary
Photography, Neon Parc, Artspace Sydney and
ALASKA Projects among other spaces. They are
currently undertaking a three-month residency at
Phasmid Studio in Berlin supported by the Fiona
Myer Travelling Residency Award. Barry completed
a Masters of Contemporary Art at Victorian College
of the Arts in 2017.
biRd clOsET is a collective of young people
that developed organically from the relationships
established as part of SOIL SERIES: A Social Drawing,
a socially engaged artwork and ongoing collaboration
between artists Francesca Fiore and Hillary Wagner
and the rural Appalachian community of Bethel, Ohio.
jOANNE chOuEiRi is an architect/interior architect/
and researcher from Lebanon. Her trans-disciplinary
training allowed her to work at the cross section
between art, architecture, and research. Her research
focuses on possible speculative narratives of space,
interiors, and the city. With her work, she has
participated in several exhibitions in Milan, London,
and Rotterdam. Before moving to Australia, Joanne
was a lecturer at the Lebanese American University
129
of Beirut. Currently, she is a PhD candidate and
lecturer of architecture and interior design at Griffith
University, Australia.
shOuFAy dERz is an Australian artist and educator
of German and Taiwanese heritages. She works across
a range of media including photography, video and
installation. She was awarded the 2019 Australia
Council International Residency at the Künstlerhaus
Bethanien, selected by an international jury and
granted annually to one artist across Australia. Derz
has exhibited her works in China, Taiwan, Singapore,
Korea and New Zealand. Solo exhibitions include
‘The Face of the Deep‘ at GAG projects, Adelaide, ‘In
Memory of water’ at Manly Art Gallery and Museum
(2018) and ‘The wish’ at Bathurst Regional Art Gallery
(2016). Group shows include the Adelaide Biennial
of Australian Art at Art Gallery of South Australia.
Interdisciplinary collaborations include the Australian
Pavilion for the XXII Triennale di Milano “Broken
Nature” commissioned by UTS with Architect teams
Grandeza and Bajeza. The pavilion received the
highest award of the Golden Bee. In 2017 she was
visiting scholar at The New school – Parsons, New
York. Derz is a PhD candidate at the University of
Sydney and holds a MFA by research at the University
of New South Wales. She is represented by Artereal
Gallery Sydney. www.shoufay.com
MARk l. GARdNER is a Principal at Jaklitsch /
Gardner Architects. He is Director of the Graduate
Program in Architecture and the Assistant Professor
of Architectural Practice and Society at the School
of the Constructed Environments, Parsons the New
School. Mr. Gardner is on the Board of Overseers
for the University of Pennsylvania School of Design
tackling issues of inclusion. He currently serves on
the Board of Made in Brownsville. Mr. Gardner serves
on the Van Alen Institute’s Board of Trustees and is
a Fellow of the Urban Design Forum.
AdAM GEczy is an artist and writer who teaches at
the University of Sydney. His Art: Histories, Theories and
Exceptions (Berg, 2008) won the Choice Award for best
academic title in art in 2009. Having published over
14 books, recent titles include Fashion and Orientalism
(Bloomsbury, 2013) and Artificial Bodies in Fashion and
Art (Bloomsbury, 2017). With Vicki Karaminas his titles
include Fashion’s Double: Representations of Fashion
in Painting, Photography and Film (2016) and Critical
Fashion Practice, and (edited) The End of Fashion:
Clothing and Dress in the Age of Globalization. He is
editor of the Journal of Asia-Pacific Pop Culture and
ab-Original (both Penn State University Press).
MARiAlAuRA GhidiNi is a curator and researcher.
She founded the web-based curatorial platform
or-bits.com (2009–2015), organizing online and gallery
exhibitions and site-specific interventions in public
spaces, radio broadcasts and AiR programmes. With
a background in the humanities and a PhD in Curating
After New Media (CRUMB, University of Sunderland,
UK), Marialaura is currently faculty and course leader
for the Bachelor in Creative Arts in Experimental
Media Arts at the Srishti Institute of Art, Design and
Technology in Bangalore, India.
chRisTiNE hOwARd sANdOvAl is a Chumash and
Hispanic artist based in New York City. Her work
challenges the boundaries of representation, access,
and habitation through the use of performance,
video, and sculpture. Sandoval makes work about
contested places such as the historic Native and
Hispanic waterways of northern New Mexico; the
Gowanus Canal, a Superfund site in New York; and an
interfacing suburban-wildland in Colorado. Sandoval
has exhibited nationally and internationally at The
Museum of Capitalism; Designtransfer; Universität
der Künste Berlin; El Museo Del Barrio; and Socrates
Sculpture Park. Her first solo museum exhibition will
debut at The Colorado Springs Fine Art Center in
2019 during which time she will be the Mellon Artist
in Residence at Colorado College. Sandoval has been
awarded residencies at the Santa Fe Art Institute,
Triangle Arts, and The Vermont Studio Center.
She holds a BFA from Pratt Institute and an MFA
from Parsons The New School for Design. She teaches
at Parsons.
AlANA huNT makes art, writes, and produces culture
through a variety of media across public, gallery and
online spaces. She lives on Miriwoong country in
the north-west of Australia and has a long-standing
engagement with South Asia. The politics of nation
making and the colonial past and present of Australia
and South Asia are central to her practice. Her work is
invested in the capacity of art and ideas to shape the
social space between people and the public sphere.
NicOlò kRäTTli lives and works in Zurich,
Switzerland. He studied architecture at the ETH
in Zurich, and completed his Masters with Prof.
Christian Kerez in 2015. Together they collaborated
for the swiss contribution ‘Incidental Space’ at the
Venice Biennale in 2016. Amongst others, Krättli has
worked at the atelier of Peter Zumthor. More recently,
Not Vital brought him to Agadez in Niger, where
heattempted to build a minaret sculpture. Since
2016 Krättli works as an artist. In a recent project, he
aimed to preserve and materialize virtual data such
as film in a so-called Video-Solid sculpture. For this
project, he received a prize for digital sculpture 2016
at Art Museum Ulm, Germany. Since 2018 he teamed
up with Jonthan Banz. This collaboration enables a
profound research into the digital fabrication of these
kind of printed sculptures. They were exhibited in
various places, such as Benzeholz, CH-Meggen 2019;
Case Studio Vogt, Zurich 2019; Kleine Humboldt
Galerie, Berlin 2019; 8 Salon, Hamburg 2018
bENjAMiN MATThEws is a consultant and Adjunct
Fellow at Western Sydney University in the School
of Humanities and Communication Arts, researching
in the areas of digital practices and literacies, postindustrial media work, media art, globalization and
networked collectives. He collaborates with artists,
and frequently appears as a guest lecturer. His areas
of interest are inspired by a decade of experience in
media work, and academic background that
130
cuts across anthropology, digital media studies and
literary studies. He is co-author of the forthcoming
Understanding Journalism (Sage, 2018).
NANcy MAuRO -FludE is an artist who specializes in
artisanal networked systems; she is interested in the
demystification of technology, and the ‘mystification’
that lies in and through the performance of the
machinic assemblage. Mauro-Flude has devised and
curated extensively within the field of experimental
art forms. She has contributed to publications such
as: FLOSS+Art London: Mute; Intersecting Art and
Technology in Practice: Techne/Technique/Technology,
Routledge; Unlikely: Transdisciplinary Journal for
Creative Arts; Live Interfaces, Leonardo MIT Press.
Formerly, Assistant Professor Communications and
New Media, National University Singapore, Nancy
now runs the Post Digital Culture studio in the
Digital Media Programme, School of Design, RMIT
Melbourne. http://sister0.tv
bRENdAN MccARThy and isAbEllE wEbsTER
have interdisciplinary academic and professional
practices that combines their expertise in conceptual art,
performance, installation, filmmaking and quantitative
analytical methods with fashion design systems. Their
current research and pedagogy focus on ways that
fashion can address critical social issues facing specific
communities by employing user-centric design and
conceptual art strategies in combination with ethical and
sustainable sourcing and production systems. McCarthy
has a BA in mathematics from Columbia University
and an MFA in Fine Art from Parsons. He also studied
architecture at Harvard’s Graduate School of Design.
Webster has an MFA in Fine Art from Parsons Prior.
They won the BrotherWin Gobi Desert International
Art and Design Competition and have held numerous
artist residency fellowships. They are both faculty at, and
McCarthy is the Program Director, BFA Fashion Design:
Systems and Materiality at Parsons.
ANA MENdEs is a writer and visual artist who
develops projects using video, performance, text,
131
photography, drawing and sound, to address issues
such as memory, language and identity. Recent solo
shows include the Natural History Museum, Vienna,
Austria (2017), the Universalmuseum Joanneum/
Natural History Museum, Graz/Austria (2017). Recent
group exhibitions: Jerwood Space, London, UK (2017)
and the MAC, Belfast, UK (2016). She has been the
recipient of several awards in literature, photography,
performance and drawing throughout Europe and
North America – recently the Jerwood Drawing
Prize 2017, second prize winner, Jerwood Charitable
Foundation, London, UK. www.anamendes.com
REbEkAh MOdRAk is an artist and writer working
at intersections of design and creative resistance
to consumer culture. She creates Internet-based
interventions, such as Re Made Co., an artwork posing
as an online “company.” Re Made recreates actual
company Best Made Co. (specializing in $350 designer
axes) to satirize their appropriation of manual
labor for leisure consumption and revitalization
of traditional male roles. Her work Rethink Shinola
exposes the company Shinola’s co-option of Detroit’s
image and its promotion of the white savior myth.
Modrak is Professor of Art in the Stamps School at the
University of Michigan.
ANNiE MORRAd is a London-based artist and
musician who plays saxophone, produces ‘unheard
music’ prints, makes music for films and develops
live improvisations with art and music practitioners.
iAN McARThuR is a Sydney-based hybrid
practitioner, working in the domains of
interdisciplinary design, and sound art. These
two musicians work together in a telematic digital
structure formed from open source and proprietary
software platforms.
jAcOb OlMEdO holds a BFA in Fashion Design and is
in the inaugural class for his MFA in Textiles at Parson
School of Design. He is a designer who focuses on
sustainability and the future of textiles and garments.
He is the first Liz Claiborne Scholar in 2018 awarded
by the Council of Fashion Designers of America,
while also winning the Designer of the Year: Future
Textiles Award in 2017. Jacob practices in-depth
research, systematic analysis, experimental material
development, user testing, and garment construction,
all as a part of his continuing design work And The
World Will Be As One.
MAcushlA RObiNsON is a writer and curator. She
is currently the General Sir John Monash Cultural
Scholar completing graduate study at the New School
for Social Research in New York. She is also Assistant
Curator to the New School Art Collection. Prior to this
she was Curator of Contemporary International Art at
the Art Gallery of New South Wales. She has worked
on a wide range of projects at the AGNSW including
curating the exhibition See You at the Barricades
(2015); managing the contemporary project series for
2014 and working on projects including Tino Sehgal:
This is So Contemporary (2014); Francis Bacon: Five
Decades (2012) and the John Kaldor Family Gallery
(2011). Publications include a chapter in the Kaldor
catalogue and articles for Art & Australia, Art Monthly
Australia and Art Asia Pacific, dealing with a range of
topics from the devotional text in contemporary art
through to empathy in contemporary Indian video art.
RyOTA sATO (b. Okayama, Japan) is an artist currently
based in New York. His practice spans digital
media, video installation, painting, photography,
and sculpture. His work explores the relationship
between human bodies, landscapes, information
media, slippage of nature-culture and the circulation
of imagery particularly in relation to image capturing
devices. He will be joining Matsushima Bunko
Museum in 2019, working as a collaborator and a
liaison between the museum and participants.
luciANA scRuTchEN, Asst. Prof. of Fashion,
Parsons School of Design, received her BFA in
Weaving and Textile Design from Rochester Institute
of Technology and her MFA in Design and Technology
from Parsons School of Design. Her textile and digital
work embodies an exploration of plant, insect, and
earth colorants with the visceral materiality of new
and experimental fibers and leathers gathered from
Alaska’s sustainable and subsistence cultures. Her
research integrates intersections of biology and
textiles, developed into constructed and printed
materials, investigating the relationship to fashion,
ecological systems, as well as the impact of smallscale and large-scale textile production practices.
lEElA shANkER is an artist and designer working
with the medium of light. Founding the Flint Collective
NYC with peers from art, architecture, lighting design,
interactive design, product design and film, Shanker
approaches the city as a platform for provocations of
alternate realities and collective experience. Having
collaborated and curated with art and design collectives
in Berlin, Shanghai, New York and Sydney, Shanker
completed a Master of Architecture and Master of Fine
Arts – Lighting Design at Parsons School of Design.
Based in New York, she continues to incorporate light,
film, performative art and interactive media into site
specific interventions.
MARk shORTER is an artist and academic who
completed a PhD in Visual Arts at the Sydney College
of the Arts, Australia. Significant exhibitions and
performances include: Hello Stranger, Campbelltown
Art Centre, Sydney 2018; 6m of Plinth, Artspace,
Sydney 2016; Mapping La Mancha, The Physics Room,
New Zealand 2015; The Groker, Plato’s Cave, EIDIA
House 2015, New York. From 2010 to 2012 he was the
host of “The Renny Kodgers Quiz Hour” on Sydney
radio station FBi 94.5FM. Shorter currently Head of
Sculpture and Spatial Practice at Victorian College of
Arts, University of Melbourne.
jOshuA siNGER is a designer, teacher, and writer.
He is Associate Professor and Coordinator of Visual
Communication Design at San Francisco State
University, and Director of the San Francisco State
University DESIGNSPACE gallery. His work sits at
the busy intersection of design research, design
theory, geography, and experimental and critical
132
methodologies. He has a BA from Hampshire College,
MFA in Fine Art from the City University of New York
/ Hunter College, and MFA in Design from California
College of the Arts. You can see some of his work at
adhocatlas.com.
jONATAN spEjlbORG and lAssE høGENhOF, both
based in Seyðisfjörður, are artists, teachers, janitors,
carpenters, friends and more depending on the
situation. They are living and working in and through
the experimental art school, LungA School, founded
in 2014. Their collaboration and praxis is founded on
enthusiasm and centred around creating and exposing
interesting situations through more or less civilised
structures, actions and complete engagement as well
as fostering environments for conscious, social praxis
of generating culture.
kAspAR sTöbE is an architect and artist based in
Düsseldorf, Germany. He runs a studio that serves as
platform for multidisciplinary collaborative projects in
different scales and in the field of architecture, art and
beyond. Kaspar is interested in the way, our daily life
is constituted by invisible structures. These structures
serve as a pool of inspiration for the development of
work in between political, spacial, conceptional and
virtual logic.
ANdREw sTOOkE is an artist and writer based in
London and Shanghai. His work combines of new
and traditional media. Recent projects include;
‘Impossible Bands’ at Shanghai Power Station of Art,
testing empathy via fallible Internet messaging; and
‘Pigeon’, commissioned to mark the anniversary of
the UK’s legalization of private homosexual acts,
concerning the love of birds nesting on the roof of a
former home of British modernist composer Benjamin
Britten. Previously he was director of the Oliver Holt
Gallery in Dorset UK; a space for artists’ residencies
and commissions based in the context of heritage,
education and science.
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shAN TuRNER- cARROll is a regionally based
Australian artist of Anglo Burmese descent. His
practice questions current modes of living and
explores alternative methodologies and modes of
education. Turner- Carroll has exhibited throughout
Australia, as well as in New York. New Zealand,
Iceland, Hong Kong and Myanmar. His work is in
The Macquarie Group Collection, University of
Newcastle Art Collection, Curve Gallery Collection,
and private collections in New York, Newcastle,
Sydney, Perth and Burma.
jEssicA wiNTON is an advocate for art in the
public realm who creates performative / sculptural
installations to provoke civic engagement on sociopolitical issues. Her experiences as a prop builder in the
film & television industry have influenced her atypical
approach to material usage. Having recently attained
an MFA from NSCAD University, she continues
to investigate the role of the artist in the public
spheres we occupy. Her art projects aim to unwind
public ambivalence through common metaphor and
intriguing illusion. Her home and studio are based in
Halifax, though her projects often carry her off into the
streets, woodland and open fields.
chRis wOOd is an artist and researcher interested
in imaginaries around technology, especially the ways
emerging technology define our experiences of space
and time. His practice is based around collaborative
workshops, conversations and interactions. He
uses these to develop interactive installations and
encounters. His work also draws on his background
as a sound recordist, engineer and radio producer,
through a strong use of speech and narrative. He had
exhibited across Europe and in North America and
recently completed a PhD in Media & Arts Technology
at Queen Mary University of London. Examples of
work can be found at http://chriswood.art
Editorsthe Editors
About
134
sEAN lOwRy is a Melbourne-based artist, writer, curator and musician. He holds a PhD in
Visual Arts from the University of Sydney and is currently Head of Critical and Theoretical
Studies in Art at Victorian College of the Arts, University of Melbourne. Lowry has exhibited
and performed extensively both nationally and internationally, and his writing appears in
numerous journals and edited volumes. He is also Founder and Executive Director of global
blind peer reviewed exhibition program Project Anywhere (www.projectanywhere.net)—which
is currently supported as part of a partnership between the Centre of Visual Art (University of
Melbourne) and Parsons Fine Art (Parsons School of Design, The New School). Lowry is also
one half (with Ilmar Taimre) of The Ghosts of Nothing (www.ghostsofnothing.com). For more
information, please visit www.seanlowry.com
siMONE dOuGlAs is a NYC-based artist, curator and writer. She is currently the director of
the MFA Fine Arts Program at Parsons School of Design, The New School. Douglas’ works have
been exhibited at, and are held in Victoria & Albert Museum, London; Art Gallery of NSW,
Sydney; National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne; Photographers Gallery, London; Museum
of Contemporary Art, Sydney; Australian Centre for Photography, Sydney; and Month of the
Photo, Paris. Douglas has curated for the Auckland Festival, The Pingyao International Festival
of Photography and on behalf of the Getty Conservation Institute and the Australian Museum.
She is co-editor of Anywhere and co-curator of Anywhere & Elsewhere.
135
Proudly supported as part of a partnership between Project
Anywhere, Centre of Visual Art (University of Melbourne) and
Parsons Fine Art (Parsons School of Design, The New School).
Editors
Sean Lowry and Simone Douglas
Proofreader
Robyn Adler
Editorial Assistant
Kellie Wells
Design
Ella Egidy
Contact
projectanywhere@gmail.com
ISBN
978-0-6487354-0-3
Published by Project Anywhere; Centre of Visual Art (University
of Melbourne) and Parsons Fine Art (Parsons School of Design,
The New School).
All Included Images © 2019 the Artists Unless Otherwise Noted
All supplementary images courtesy National Institute of
General Medical Sciences from the Life: Magnified collection.
Cover & p. vi: Bryan William Jones and Robert E. Marc 1C top Metabolomics eye
p. iv: National Institute of General Medical Sciences from the Life: Magnified collection
p. 1: B. Joseph Hinnebusch, Elizabeth Fischer, and Austin Athman Bubonic plague
bacteria (yellow) on part of the digestive system in a rat flea (purple)
pp. 2–3: Thomas Deerinck Cerebellum (the brain’s locomotion control center) up close
pp. 129: Philipp Keller, Bill Lemon, Yinan Wan, and Kristin Branson Zebrafish embryo
p. 134: Daniela Malide Fat cells (red) and blood vessels (green)
Art at the
Outermost
Limits of
LocationSpecificity
978-0-6487354-0-3