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such fatigue, touch: resolve

“It is our ‘bodily’ intentionality which brings the possibility of meaning into our experience by ensuring that its content, the things presented in experience, are surrounded with references to the past and future, to other places and other things, to human possibilities and situations.”

Merleau-Ponty

 

Human beings are embodied creatures perceiving the world through experience, in a sort of dialog, an ongoing negotiation with all they encounter. To make this clear, Merleau-Ponty returns the idea of consciousness to the body and distinguishes experience by confronting the question of “sense experience” (Melreau-Ponty 60). Merleau-Ponty states, “Empiricism” has “emptied” sense experience “of all mystery … moving far from the ordinary acceptation of the word” (66).

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tell me again

Experience which is passed on from mouth to mouth is the source from which all storytellers have drawn. And among those who have written down the tales, it is the great ones whose writ- ten version differs least from the speech of the many nameless storytellers. Incidentally, among the last named there are two groups which, to be sure, overlap in many ways.  

Walter Benjamin, The Storyteller

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nonhumanity

Modernity is often defined in terms of humanism, either as a way of saluting the birth of 'man' or as a way of announcing his death. But this habit itself is modern, because it remains asymmetrical. It overlooks the simultaneous birth of 'nonhumanity' - things, or objects, or beasts - and the equally strange beginning of a crossed-out God, relegated to the sidelines. Modernity arises first from the conjoined creation of those three entities, and then from the masking of the conjoined birth and the separate treatment of the three communities while, underneath, hybrids continue to multiply as an effect of this separate treatment. The double separation is what we have to reconstruct: the separation between humans and nonhumans on the one hand, and between what happens 'above' and what happens 'below' on the other. 

~ Bruno Latour, We Have  Never Been Modern

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[a compendium of angels] pg. 3-4

angel of autumn patrol ambush upriver clarity clean genocide. she climbs coffins so that she will not sleep, hides bullets in baskets of rice. she barters fuel drums for me love you long time. she blows bridges disney electric light show in the asshole of the world. liberators rebuild and she blows them up again.

angel of racial epithet, your enemy is a dismembered fuck you in the wind. snipers collect tusks of wild boar, go native. angel of corrugated metal shacks, steel vessels spectral bodies swallowed, lulled by jungle.

angel of machetes, stone dragon sentinels, even corpses must be guarded, for skulls and souls find a way back to their gods. how lovesong is contracted from “if it were not so,” holds relevance, especially here, where buzzing malaria bamboo prisons is no mythology.

angel of proper burials, let earth and river reclaim their fractured children. adorned in violet ribbons, we mimic predatory birds’ movements beating brass gongs. angel of heathen incantation, a procession of painted headhunters crosses international borders. adolescents wield scythes and semiautomatic rifles. a child’s third eye opens with a diamond bullet. headdressed elders invoke river spirits. bend the imagination, and the landscape is dotted charred crucifixion.

the opposite of eden: angel of guerrilla resistance, let typhoon deities conceal your tattered soldiers. let ceremonies of rain and fire measure the weight of the final kill.

~ Barbara Jane Reyes

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[a compendium of angels] pg. 1-2

[a compendium of angels]

angel of blades beating air synthetic sound chemical rain blood sunset pearls steel demon birds vapor rising jungle’s fire trees erase the name of here. blades twirl inverted faces. orange sky fallen cities of broken stone. awakened into nothing, comforted by shards, memory can be filled with so much detonation.

angel of descent’s interlocked confessions. angel of black smoke air raid sirens. heaven is infected wound attack formation sun rising missile dance skimming the skin of ocean.

angel of morphine’s shrapnel embedded in flesh. jet fighters needle sea spume’s virgin gowns. the opposite of home, this gun-happy necessity. in labor camps, women strap explosives to their bodies and unfurl wings in ululation. the river parts its waters.

angel of rock and roll first world impotence, ordered to leave no evidence. despite this, the dead still hang from trees. parched, earth drinks. 

 ~ Barbara Jane Reyes 

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illegitimate mixtures

”The Laws of Nature allowed the first Enlightenment thinkers to demolish the ill-founded pretensions of human prejudice. Applying this new critical tool, they no longer saw anything in the hybrids of old but illegitimate mixtures that they had to purify by separating natural mechanisms from human passions, interests or ignorance. All the ideas of yesteryear, one after that other, became inept or approximate. Or rather, simply applying the modern Constitution was enough to create, by contrast, a ‘yesteryear’ absolutely different from today. The obscurity of the olden days, which illegitimately blended together social needs and natural reality, meanings and mechanisms, signs and things, gave way to a luminous dawn that cleanly separated material causality from human fantasy. The natural sciences at last defined what Nature was, and each new emerging scientific discipline was experienced as a total revolution by means of which it was finally liberated from its prescientific past, from its Old Regime. No one who has not felt the beauty of this dawn and thrilled to its promises is modern.”

~ Bruno Latour, We Have Never Been Modern

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Spaces

Space
No center, no above, no below
Ceaselessly devouring and engendering itself
Whirlpool space
And drop into height
Spaces
Clarities steeply cut
Suspended
By the night's flank
Black gardens of rock crystal
Flowering on a rod of smoke
White gardens exploding in the air
Space
One space opening up
Corolla
And dissolving
Space in space
All is nowhere
Place of impalpable nuptials

 

~ Octavio Paz

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transition transmission

This is the potential in wonder, its lack of direction, its willingness to accept a thing in part or as part of a whole not yet understood, an openness to the experience of a thing, to a world that is new again and again, ever changing and being changed, uncontainable.

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wild bees

Wild Bees 


Often in summer, on a tarred bridge plank standing, 
Or downstream between willows, a safe Ophelia drifting 
In a rented boat - I had seen them comes and go, 
Those wild bees, swift as tigers, their gauze wings a-glitter 
In passionless industry, clustering black at the crevice 
Of a rotten cabbage tree, where their hive was hidden low 

But never strolled too near. Till one half-cloudy evening 
Of ripe January, my friends and I 
Came, gloved and masked to the eyes like plundering desperadoes, 
To smoke them out. Quiet beside the stagnant river 
We trod wet grasses down, hearing the crickets chitter 
And waiting for light to drain from the wounded sky. 

Before we reached the hive their sentries saw us 
And sprang invisible through the darkening air. 
Stabbed, and died in stinging. The hive woke. Poisonous fuming 
Of sulphur filled the hollow trunk, and crawling 
Blue flames sputtered - yet still their suicidal 
Live raiders dived and clung to our hands and hair. 

O it was Carthage under the Roman torches, 
Or loud with flames and falling timber, Troy! 
A job well botched. Half of the honey melted 
And half the rest young grubs. Through earth-black smoldering ashes 
And maimed bee groaning, we drew our plunder. 
Little enough their gold, and slight our joy. 

Fallen then the city of instinctive wisdom. 
Tragedy is written distinct and small: 
A hive burned on a cool night in summer. 
But loss is a precious stone to me, a nectar 
Distilled in time, preaching the truth of winter 
To the fallen heart that does not cease to fall.

 

~ James K Baxter

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babble babble ZZZZZZ

When a concert is very good (mainly experimental music, I like street music less) I get the impression that, when all my senses of perception have been eliminated, the way I hear is forced to renew itself. I hope that this affects my ossification-threatening designs.

Franz West

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a little grease

It is through contingent means, through wildness and desire, that we unseat the “real,” expose reason and its limitations and may consider all that operates outside of these limitations.

IMG_2332.JPG

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Er/schrecken

Through wonder we are drawn into experience, a present and open experience of the world. Our experience is a co-participation with things in the world, an experience in which our sway is contingent on the whole and its parts as they relate to the whole. Wonder as a means moves us, unsettles us and pushes us to experience. We are drawn into this experience as a thing hinging on and collaborating with other things, an experience in relation that goes beyond conscious knowing and emotion.

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you move me

"If the opposite of being a body is dead [and] there is no life apart from the body…[then] to have a body is to learn to be affected, meaning ‘effectuated,’ moved, put into motion by other entities, humans or nonhumans. If you are not engaged in this learning, you become insensitive, dumb, you drop dead."

Bruno Latour

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definitive answers?

"The nature of this melancholy becomes clearer, once one asks the question, with whom does the historical writer of historicism actually empathize. The answer is irrefutably with the victor. Those who currently rule are however the heirs of all those who have ever been victorious. Empathy with the victors thus comes to benefit the current rulers every time."

Walter Benjamin


 

Gallery Opening for Gifts: Unit 2 (part 3) on Feb. 1, 6-9pm

Nostos Gallery is pleased to present Gifts: Unit 2 (part 3), an exhibition of works made by or in collaboration with prisoners living in Unit 2 (the death row unit) of the Riverbend Maximum Security Institution in Northwest Nashville.

http://reachcoalition.wordpress.com



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one way in / one way out

"Everywhere the hidden curriculum of schooling initiates the citizen to the myth that bureaucracies guided by scientific knowledge are efficient and benevolent. Everywhere this same curriculum instills in the pupil the myth that increased production will"" provide a better life. And everywhere it develops the habit of self-defeating consumption of services and alienating production, the tolerance for institutional dependence, and the recognition of institutional rankings. The hidden curriculum of school does all this in spite of contrary efforts undertaken by teachers and no matter what ideology prevails.

In other words, schools are fundamentally alike in all countries, be they fascist, democratic or socialist, big or small, rich or poor. This identity of the school system forces us to recognize the profound world-wide identity of myth, mode of production, and method of social control, despite the great variety of mythologies in which the myth finds expression."

Ivan Illich, Deschooling Society

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a position in flow

"Wonder dwells in this relentless between. And in fact, it may be that even a word like 'between' fails us here, because in wonder’s shock and awe, the ordinary and the extraordinary, the true and the untrue, the earthly and the ideal open in and through one another, even perhaps as one another." 

Mary-Jane Rubenstein

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