14 August 2019

cam church












We have to dispense with the idea that theorising occurs after the creative event; that a poem or a track or a text is made and then, as part of its process of dissemination, there follows the theorising of the piece. Such a theorising is normally attributed to those known variously as critics, reviewers and essayists. However, what actually occurs is that theorising goes on at the same time as the creative event is being worked upon. It is complementary to the event and, more importantly, it is the continuous precondition for the event. There is always this theoretical supplement to any activity: a carpenter fits cupboards into an alcove and there is this ongoing process about the nature of the material, a questioning of the next step, and how it is best to overcome those obstacles, such as the unevenness of the wall, that present themselves. Similarly, when producers make a track there is a similar theorisation going on: what sounds to use, how they fit in to other sounds, how they relate to expectation, how best to structure the track. Such a theoretical component to any activity is denied because theory is normally attributed to a textual product, and like the role of the critic, this comes to exercise the effect upon creative producers that their activity is somehow ‘below’ the level of theoretical process.
 

This self-deprecation, actively instituted by the division of labour (a compartmentalisation of tasks that undoubtedly limits perception), serves to reinforce the divide between consciousness and activity, between thought and action; it severs the creative producer from the consciousness of his or her activity to the point that the theoretical component is occluded.  However, if there wasn’t an ‘auto-theoretical’ element to activity, which always includes context and reciprocity and which, if made conscious, can defy the division of labour and its instating of various dualities such as that between perception and conception, then there could be no next creative event as the process of engagement is always giving rise to tangents and possible ideas for the next poem, text or track. There is a thinking and an engaging with materials at the same time. Praxis. Process. Bearings that, in the slipstream of the creative event, offer an inkling of objectives, limitations and, crucially, autonomy. Process premisses change. To deny this everpresent and constant theoretical activity, these re-orientations that include memory, endless self-interpretation and renewed possibility, is to conform to a definition of theory that is imposed: ‘it is forgotten that experience can inform theory, that theory is in itself a form of experience, that there is such a thing as a theoretical practice.’ 

Perhaps a theorising that neglects such auto-theoretical aspects could be termed ‘discourse’ and that this latter form of theoretical activity is so often hermetic, self-referencing and exclusionary is maybe because it seeks to resolve problems ‘once-and-for-all’ within a text rather than filtering these through an activity that is constantly posing these problems anew as a part of daily practice. In this way, by corralling theory into servicing their own renewal, academics do not confront the division of labour (the provisos of their knowledge) and instead reproduce the hierarchisation that not only occludes but occults the shared auto-theoretical component. Such hermetic academic discursivity – seen in the proliferation of secondary texts that veil and seek to possess the primary text – serves as a means of formalising the ‘right’ to theory; specialising it as a work of discipline that is divorced from ‘practical energies’. Yet, to re-create what is meant by ‘theorising’, to refuse to differentiate it from ‘everyday’ activity, experience and experiment is to be engaged in a process of de-conditioning; a translating and de-translating of the ‘inexhaustible stores of material’ that, by means of memory and conscience, make of everyone an auto-theorist. Such a process, in not confining problems to discourse nor in seeking to compress them within formal, dispassionate and conclusive restraints, is a process of social engagement. Not knowing of boundaries, not even knowing of taught techniques of cross-over, the sui generis sites of communication proliferate and as they do it becomes clearer that, beyond the models offered by the media and the academy, it becomes a matter of re-appropriating the means of written, visual and aural expression. This approach is, in part, what those conspicuous outsiders, the situationists, meant by ‘drifting’: a reflective activity is not solely a matter of a ‘large table and piles of books’ but is as much a matter of the social-interaction of ‘walking’: a non-discursive sense of the environment. This situationist take on auto-theorisation, which relates to the Marxist sense of critique as opposed to criticism, was partly employed to differentiate their activity from academia and, if, today, this auto-theoretical dimension has been supplanted by the discursive, making this dimension invisible to practitioners who self-deprecatingly deny its existence to themselves, it is sadly sought and reconvened in the pages and sites of the media where, not only does it fall to journalists to articulate our activity for us, it is, as a result of such voluntary delegation, a matter of creative producers searching for a ‘scene’ anywhere other than in their own auto-theoretical potential to be engaged.

—Howard Slater, "Post-Media Operators: ‘Sovereign & Vague’" in Provocative Alloys: A Post-Media
Anthology

5 August 2019

Ferraro suggested that all these eighties sounds seeped into the consciousness of today’s twenty-something musicians when they were toddlers falling asleep (and thus in the state of semiconsciousness known as ‘hypnagogia’). He speculated that their parents played music in the living room and it came through the bedroom walls muffled and indistinct.



Q

Hi - my name is Jenna, and I work at Artsy. While researching Marcel Duchamp, I found your page: http://knowleseddyknowles.blogspot.com/2009/07/marcel-duchamp-untitled-hand-and-cigar.html.

I am reaching out to certain website and blog owners that publish content in line with our mission to make all the world’s art accessible to anyone. We hope to continue promoting arts education and accessibility with your help.

Our Marcel Duchamp page provides visitors with Duchamp's bio, over 35 of his works, exclusive articles, and up-to-date Duchamp exhibition listings. The page also includes related artists and categories, allowing viewers to discover art beyond our Duchamp page. We would love to be included as an additional resource for your visitors via a link on your page.

If you are able to add a link to our Duchamp page, please let me know, and thanks in advance for your consideration.

Best,
Jenna

"What art is, in reality, is this missing link, not the links which exist. It's not what you see that is art; art is the gap."
-Marcel Duchamp


A

Hi Jenna,
You know how Marcel would respond: Nice Tushie!


Have a great summer! 😎











3 August 2019

Every generation of young people has to fight fascism. For mine, it was the overt fascism of the Nazis and their allies. For theirs, in relative peace time, it is the covert fascism of the square world. Usually this fight is lost, because young people fail to root out the seeds of fascism within themselves. -- Robert Filliou



THE CLOSET
Any house is a far too complicated, clumsy, fussy, mechanical counterfeit of the human body. Electric wiring for a nervous system, plumbing for bowels, heating system and fireplaces for arteries and heart, and windows for eyes, nose) and lungs generally. The structure of the house, too, is a kind of cellular tissue stuck full of bones, complex now, as the confusion of bedlam and all beside. The whole interior is a kind of stomach that attempts to digest objects—objects, objets d'art maybe, but objects always. There the affected affliction sits ever hungry—for ever more objects—or plethoric with over plenty. The whole life of the average house, it seems, is a sort of indigestion. A body in ill repair, suffering indisposition—constant tinkering and doctoring to keep alive. It is a marvel we its infestors do not go insane in it and with it. Perhaps it is a form of insanity we have put into it. 

[Fank Lloyd] Wright wrote this the same year he finished the construction of the Robie House, in his essay "The Cardboard House." It was another stab in the age-old battle between architect and housewife. Wright attacked the need for dark closet spaces. For him, the home should not be a junkyard; it should avoid having any poorly ventilated or dark rooms "to pack things out of sight." This cleansing prescription that Wright carried out in the Robie House and the rest of his Prairie homes was the basis of the modernist desire toward abstraction and minimalism: a life without objects. Without closet spaces, the home and the housewife lost the nooks and crannies where the storage of disused objects could take place. Closets contain secrets, and a home bereft of them meant these were left exposed. Closets can act as portals to enter small private worlds of supplies or excess. Previously, closets would have hidden provisions for the family, from bed linens or clothing to serving objects, stores for the winter; without closets there would be overflow in the home. If before the rural home was a self-sustained unit like a farmhouse where the production of clothes to the upkeep of animals happened within its walls, with the introduction of the garage the suburban home became autonomous from its surroundings and dependent on the car. The home became a repository and display of a family's consumption. The introduction of the car into daily life accelerated the speed of consumption. Wright's effort toward removing objects was in vain. The Robies, in need of even more closet space than they had before, started using a corner of their oversized garage. Decades later, once the garage had evolved to be an appendage to almost every suburban American home, the space started performing as the biggest storage room in the house. In the latter half of the twentieth century, the garage became the de facto space of the hoarder, the American consumer's preferred landfill. From old Legos, fishing rods, and ladders, to bikes, flotation devices, and old family albums anything and everything that could be saved for later found a home there. This devouring and collecting of goods hidden behind the garage door evicted the car and replaced it with cardboard boxes and containers holding mounds of forgotten household objects. As Wright rid the home of interior closet spaces, the home then spat out the refuse for which there was no allotted space one step closer to the street—into the garage.

-- Olivia Erlanger and Luis Ortega Govela, Garage