tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50876980571713185592023-11-16T16:45:41.613+01:00Mirror Metaphysics___________Fashion, Food, PhilosophyUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-57126098994513931552014-03-07T16:09:00.000+01:002014-03-07T16:09:17.147+01:00Seriously, can I?Ok, this is kinda awkward. I quit this blog because I was uncomfortable knowing that people were actually reading this stuff. So I decided to keep myself to myself instead. These old blog posts feel like a trail of shame, in a way. After all those years I thought about starting a whole new blog altogether, and tell no one about it. I can handle the idea that random strangers might stumble upon my rambling foolish thoughts and maybe stroll around in them for a little while, and then leave again. I like it that way: no stress, especially no embarrassment, no confrontations. Blogs – at least that’s how I see it – are not meant for presenting finished ideas, complete texts. A blog is a virtual safe house for trial and error, an anonymous space to taste thoughts: it offers the opportunity to let them simmer for a while, and then you can decide which ones you like and want to keep, and which ones you don’t like and want to forget about as quickly as possible.
Anyways, I still have not decided if I want to keep this blog or if I am going to start a new one. In any case the sort of things I will want to post will be of a different nature altogether. Or maybe not?
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-84101744820144271572011-07-10T11:27:00.002+02:002011-07-10T11:28:24.591+02:00H&M for the richLouis Vuitton, Chanel, D&G, what have you – has anyone ever bothered to take a good look at these things in a shop (meaning, detached from the gorgeous bodies of models)? Frankly, very often you’ll find that qua design as well as qua material these clothes are of inferior quality. They are nothing more H&M for the rich. Everybody still looks the same, and what’s even better: nobody has to think. Here’s just one example. At the opening of the new Louis Vuitton shop in London a lot of celebrities were present – as is usual the case at that sort of ‘event’. What struck me is that three of those celebrities wore the same shoes with oversized bows, only in different colors. And that was only the ones deemed famous enough to publish their photograph. (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1281406/Louis-Vuitton-Maison-launch-Gwyneth-Paltrow-belle-ball-new-hair-daring-keyhole-dress.html) This really is no different to me than the hoards of teenagers that all dress in H&M and the like. They all basically wear the same type of clothes as if they were wearing uniforms.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-80137814399894904942011-07-09T07:31:00.009+02:002011-07-09T07:53:03.693+02:00Emptiness in Antwerp<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNDNr9ggMTtEfrgU-pm7j7FpJAYcpVKAwYuYnA51uU6JIxW73I5tu3rCKQJzdffox6QoWurlYXmwiw-cTFQft2yLOqk1EpC9WraZgkjLU7AbAdquWkxlUT3_JRWG85P3iQbjOOiW4g4sY/s1600/DSC_6893.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNDNr9ggMTtEfrgU-pm7j7FpJAYcpVKAwYuYnA51uU6JIxW73I5tu3rCKQJzdffox6QoWurlYXmwiw-cTFQft2yLOqk1EpC9WraZgkjLU7AbAdquWkxlUT3_JRWG85P3iQbjOOiW4g4sY/s320/DSC_6893.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627223434950195954" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOxugPLNGw8Y7Q0nG7peHMeP-AC2-N8bEK9AEsHAjuD8f4smFhLwt55e88iBKZogjPJ5GFb6iPqHUNvfeO9u1U_Cw-bnW0V88Q_9i_VTcWdBSue8wHcGp1aze5OGa6BXf_h6gJUV9BIjk/s1600/DSC_6896.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOxugPLNGw8Y7Q0nG7peHMeP-AC2-N8bEK9AEsHAjuD8f4smFhLwt55e88iBKZogjPJ5GFb6iPqHUNvfeO9u1U_Cw-bnW0V88Q_9i_VTcWdBSue8wHcGp1aze5OGa6BXf_h6gJUV9BIjk/s320/DSC_6896.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627223775256029842" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_NAmj_AxWYZuZCCbdGF1-eJOl31ELTYn1IvY5MeFXahEcKGGCb1AgI3JCRy3DYnNpJ7gZAVRAHyMZHdeA26XX893hNW44xvuQfeV_DlqmD4VjKKm4NZIPa4jFgcFyuje-937GQ29yTg/s1600/DSC_6889.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_NAmj_AxWYZuZCCbdGF1-eJOl31ELTYn1IvY5MeFXahEcKGGCb1AgI3JCRy3DYnNpJ7gZAVRAHyMZHdeA26XX893hNW44xvuQfeV_DlqmD4VjKKm4NZIPa4jFgcFyuje-937GQ29yTg/s320/DSC_6889.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627223129812838210" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-t_DNMpQg5LIvuHE819T5LcqZ-HZQ71_o-Y_cebnhDvFw-nzSPvmUZJ4DasNniwn5jWBiM1MW8AGzj3fn0b8xQd8QKgIzXiQ0WFlqzIEiNTHO1VfyvX4GO4H0A1gQLRCgfpFrKzvU44/s1600/DSC_6909.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-t_DNMpQg5LIvuHE819T5LcqZ-HZQ71_o-Y_cebnhDvFw-nzSPvmUZJ4DasNniwn5jWBiM1MW8AGzj3fn0b8xQd8QKgIzXiQ0WFlqzIEiNTHO1VfyvX4GO4H0A1gQLRCgfpFrKzvU44/s320/DSC_6909.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627224612254433346" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvEUW-eF_AeYDxSzkftIC9Xpm4wnjVV9CvPxqjuLp95-wjRHUKnX6LtANYAtWvj8ZlidBf2k6eQrhiUUrmhyef5dXfmrduJGa75QJP1ZNJQimRQ27CNLCs2wZz0vdYcH93HLr4Ea9n7I/s1600/DSC_6905.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFvEUW-eF_AeYDxSzkftIC9Xpm4wnjVV9CvPxqjuLp95-wjRHUKnX6LtANYAtWvj8ZlidBf2k6eQrhiUUrmhyef5dXfmrduJGa75QJP1ZNJQimRQ27CNLCs2wZz0vdYcH93HLr4Ea9n7I/s320/DSC_6905.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627224335601952834" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwO8xXPSSQNEYHrjv3XP9EL-GaQpaYzervaIozj1K5qFKNl3pDVubKZm_bmo79RAIdtVQAUCGu9X_r3p7bKMZNPsUimnzhhxcD1JryYEqTvxV88x5iRxjmqSSncN9-k6LQ4zxchW7Kpog/s1600/DSC_6910.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwO8xXPSSQNEYHrjv3XP9EL-GaQpaYzervaIozj1K5qFKNl3pDVubKZm_bmo79RAIdtVQAUCGu9X_r3p7bKMZNPsUimnzhhxcD1JryYEqTvxV88x5iRxjmqSSncN9-k6LQ4zxchW7Kpog/s320/DSC_6910.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627225128021609442" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bLgepC5ig68vAtQ2dQoFyb1u0Os6GuJTEBI8cELHCRAYWeHqwVCM4F7YLF3bn3Ad0AUaI0ApbHZwkHJrkCcM0YmJCWh9zy_5YRnvDzoSHXHdO2c55Fs43UZ0lnbx_-nKqY3sw_23k9M/s1600/DSC_6917.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bLgepC5ig68vAtQ2dQoFyb1u0Os6GuJTEBI8cELHCRAYWeHqwVCM4F7YLF3bn3Ad0AUaI0ApbHZwkHJrkCcM0YmJCWh9zy_5YRnvDzoSHXHdO2c55Fs43UZ0lnbx_-nKqY3sw_23k9M/s320/DSC_6917.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627225469005734450" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-8210065581141658082011-07-08T13:53:00.002+02:002011-07-08T14:54:19.350+02:00Uniform Fashion‘Thus concealment is ontologically prior to any form of revealment.’ Amen to that.<br /><br />With my dreaded dissertation finally as good as behind me it’s time to move on. My new project is called ‘Uniform Fashion’, and it is a logical extension of the work I have done on militarization and philosophy (Heidegger, but also Benjamin, Baudrillard, Barthes etc.). The basic idea is that fashion has never been taken completely seriously as an academic subject, being neither art nor purely consumer object, even though fashion is in a way the exemplary angle to step into the realm of philosophy, to think about what it means to be a clothed, consuming, individual human being in the twenty first century. However, there is a growing interest in fashion, yet when it comes to finding tools for theoretical analysis that can assist in studying today’s fashion world one soon stumbles upon a serious lack. In a certain sense every philosophy (semiotics, structuralism, deleuzianism, feminist critiques, Marxist analysis etc.) can be used to explain fashion, since fashion addresses those issues that are most intricately linked with the subject: individuality, creativity, identity, fear, joy, the body, consumption, class etc. Fashion theorists such as Elisabeth Wilson and Caroline Evans have undertaken excellent pioneering work, and classic studies by theorists such as Roland Barthes and Jean Baudrillard prove that the field of fashion offers a worthwhile subject for philosophers to delve in, but I would like to propose fashion as the staring point of an autonomous theory of the subject. I argue that philosophy not only thinks the clothed subject, it takes for granted – or rather it doesn’t consider the fact - that this subject is clothed, covered in cloth. That means that thinking about the subject always starts after a covering up or concealment that has taken place prior to the conceptualization of the subject. This implies that the ontological ‘wesensgesteltheit’ of the human is a covered one. Nakedness seems more like an exceptional condition to be in, and being clothed the normal one (despite e.g. phenomenological theories about the body). <br /><br />Fashion is a kind of ‘heteromonotony’, it is wanting to be the same as everybody else yet desiring to be different. That’s why this book I am working on is called ‘Uniform Fashion’. I will be looking into concepts such as ‘Gestell’ (‘frame’), camouflage & Reizschutz, commodification, uniformity, exception, ‘fragile militancy’ (about how the emaciated body of fashion wears itself). The basic idea is to develop a theory of the subject as uniform(ity) and fashion(ed).<br /><br /><br />‘The heat, the whisky, the noise, all those uniforms…’ If only, if only...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-79646040810031796002010-07-04T20:54:00.004+02:002010-07-05T10:04:12.689+02:00I am Oak – oh, and The Dirty ProjectorsA couple of days ago a former student invited me to come and see him perform with I am Oak. As they were opening for Dirty Projectors I immediately warmed up to the idea. Every now and then there are advantages to teaching: you get to meet inspiring young people and if – like me – you don’t have children (yet?) you can experience some pride in the fact that you used to teach them. Jolly!<br /><br />Now for the difficult part. Obviously I enjoyed the concert. But what to say about it in this little blog post? Writing about music turns out to be quite a challenge. What to say? How to write about music and a concert? How to commence? Let’s explore some heavily trodden paths. <br /><br />The first thing I am supposed to do I guess is tell a little about the bands, who they are, what ‘kind’ of music they play, what ‘scene’ they belong to. [I am Oak = a young Dutch one man ‘alternative indie folk’ project, supported by an awesome band of Live Oaks. <a href="http://www.myspace.com/iamoak">Check it out</a>. / Dirty Projectors = a New York based ‘experimental rock band’ (that should fill you in), with an elaborate Telecaster+Stratocaster guitar sound and three girls yodeling along. And yep, those girls are pretty amazing.] <br /><br />Now I should probably say a word or two about the setting and the atmosphere of the concert. [Here goes: “When I arrived at the Tivoli in Utrecht the turn-up seemed pretty slim. However, having lived in the Netherlands for a very, very - very - long time I quickly realized that the crowd wouldn’t turn up until after the concert had already started. And it did. The Tivoli is a small and cozy venue that holds only a handful of people, which possibly explains why both bands connected with the audience so effortlessly. Do I need to add some specific little anecdotes? All right then. After fifty minutes of sheer mesmerizing intimacy I am Oak erupted in a rambunctious finale that would make any galley drummer jealous. During a song performed by only two of the six band members Dirty Projectors’ front man asked to dim the lights and leave them that way for the entire show. En toen werd het helemaal gezellig… And another one. Right in front of us a huge Dutch guy and his equally huge girlfriend went absolutely ecstatic over Dirty Projectors. Later on at the coat check I learned that he was their biggest fan and that she was actually slightly embarrassed about his erratic dance moves."] <br /><br />After which I could go over the play list and discuss how ‘cleanly’ the songs were played, whether the live rendition of the songs added something extra or rather took something from the songs, say what songs they did and did not play, whether they played mainly older or new songs, and things like that. [The songs were well played by both bands. I couldn’t say anything useful about the play list, except for the fact that I am Oak played a lot of songs from their new album and Dirty Projectors didn’t screw up any Black Flag songs. Thank God for that.]<br /><br />Finally I ought come up with a lot of adjectives to describe the sound of the bands, and compare them to other bands. [Encore un petit effort. I am Oak: eerie and earthy, stripped to the bark drums, the melody of the songs carved out by an austere yet vivacious banjo and a deep weeping voice that sounds as though it has ripened for at least twelve years in an oak barrel. / Dirty Projectors: although I really liked their performance I am not that much into their sound. Really, do they have one song without ‘EAAAAA’, ‘AAAAH’, ‘OOOOH’, ‘EA-O-EA’, and ‘O-A-O-A’ and any variation on that theme? No comparisons today.]<br /><br />Ultimately I ought to mention whether I did or did not enjoy the concert. [I did.]<br />I’ll even give you a little extra in the category ‘unlikely connections’. That guy from Dirty Projectors bore some uncanny (vicarious? speculative?) likeness to Graham Harman (not so much qua physique as qua gestures). Spooky!<br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TGpvBP0tHaw&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TGpvBP0tHaw&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/voc0etBYyzI&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/voc0etBYyzI&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/A-6hyYUecbw&hl=en_US&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/A-6hyYUecbw&hl=en_US&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-85414635060048312582010-06-25T11:11:00.001+02:002010-06-25T17:18:23.213+02:00Waiting for the Political MomentI recently participated in a conference called Waiting for the Political Moment. Here is the report written by the organizers Bram Ieven and Frans-Willem Korsten. Thank you Bram and FW!<br /><br />______<br /><br /><br />Frans-Willem and I [Bram – MM] were asked to write a report on Waiting for the Political Moment for our sponsors and I took the opportunity to turn it into some sort of summary of the conference. You can tell from the style that it was originally written as a report; but at least it will give you an idea of what the conference was about and what we all did during those four days in Rotterdam and Utrecht.<br /><br />On Wednesday June 16 the participants gathered for drinks at Wolfart Project Spaces in Rotterdam. We chose this location on purpose: Wolfart is located in the heart of the impoverished boroughs of Rotterdam South, which is characterized (or perhaps better: stigmatized) by its crime rate and its ethnic mix. It’s not really special in my view (I’ve been living in such a neighborhood myself for the past five years and before that lived in a similar neighborhood in Antwerp) but it’s a good place start a discussion on politics. Frans-Willem and I chose this location to make sure that the conference would not be restricted to the academic settings to which most of us are used to, and to allow for a possibility of interaction between our participants and the locals. In addition, we purchased all our food and drinks from local shop owners. <br /><br />Following the opening reception we screened Katarina Zdjelar’s new video work, We need to have a civil conscious and basta (2010). The work zooms in on the formation of a political party in Naples in March this year. Zdjelar’s camera registers the discussions during crucial meeting, during which they are deciding if they are to become a political party or not. Rather than evolving around participant standpoints, concrete proposals, agreements and disagreements, the piece looks at the moment of transition, in which a citizen-enthusiast becomes a politician. The wonderful aspect of this work is that, instead of focusing on the speakers that advocate the political turn the organization is about to make, the camera registers the facial expressions of the listeners. <br /><br />On June 17 the conference participants moved to Utrecht by train. In the morning there were three sessions in which participants presented their papers (“re-reading theory”, “world and the political”, and “acting and waiting”). We had lunch in the garden at the Trans 10 (which is where my office is) and then went on with a tight program of three lectures.<br /><br />The first of these was the opening lecture by Frans-Willem Korsten (Professor of Literature and Society at the Erasmus University Rotterdam - University Leiden): “Defining the political moment: finality and goal with Chrétien, Aquinas, and Marsilius of Padua.” In his lecture Frans-Willem went back to an historical period, between 1170 and 1325, in which the political moment was explored in literature and theory, including the distinction between politics and the political. He explored the ideas of Aquinas and Marsilius of Padua and argued, through a critical reading of the story Perceval by Chrétien, that the political can best be defined on the basis of our sensing the world for its conflicts. Moreover, one should not be too afraid of instrumentality, but accept that fact that in both politics and the political people have goals. These should be checked however, by forms of finality.<br /><br />Frans-Willem’s lecture was followed by Martin van Gelderen’s plenary lecture (Professor of History and Civilization at The European University Institute, Florence): “The Grotian Moment: The Politics of De Iure Belli ac Pacis.” Martin confronted the work of the German jurist Carl Schmitt, who has been of such enormous importance in recent discussions about the nature of the political, with that of Hugo Grotius. He did so on the basis of the fact that Schmitt had studied Grotius and had by and large rejected his thoughts. That rejection is then countered by a in a more general rejection of an important strand in European political thought that does not accept the distinction between friend and enemy as decisive, but takes the equality of all that participate in the commonwealth as the starting point for politics. <br /><br />Next up was Patchen Markell (Associate Professor of Political Science at the University of Chicago). He gave a plenary lecture entitled “The Moment Has Passed: Reconsidering Power and Action in Hannah Arendt’s The Human Condition”. Patchen gave a close reading of Hannah Arendt’s The Human Condition in order to establish the nature of Arendt’s ideas on moments of political change, and her ideas on the nature of power. Such power resides in the act of people coming together as a result of which a certain potential is opened up. That potential cannot be judged beforehand, however, since any action performed by people can only be judged with hindsight as having been begun somewhere and having been decisive. <br /><br />The entire audience then moved to Drift 13 for a public lecture by Simon Critchley (Professor and Chair of Philosophy at The New School for Social Research, New York), “Fictional Force, How the Many are Governed by the Few”. Due to technical problems with his airplane, Simon Critchley was unable to present his paper in person, so Tammy Lynn Castelein presented the paper for him. She did this after a short introduction (reading an e-mail sent by Critchley that morning) and then turned her reading into a performance of its own. Critchley argued for a form of politics as a willing suspension of disbelief, in which the government creates a possibility for the people to believe the few represent the many, after which he discusses politics as a magic show (association without representation), and proposed to use the idea of poetry (a means to view the world as malleable) within the realm of the political: to believe in the utopian “another world is possible”. <br /><br />Critchley’s lecture was followed by a lecture-performance by Rabih Mroué. This part of the program was organized in collaboration with BAK at Utrecht and special thanks should go out to Cosmin Costinas, whose wonderful work made this all possible (he organized the performance and made it all happen) and to Maria Hlavajova (with whom it al began). Rabih Mroué did a performance that focused on the ways in which Photoshop produces new realities. In the first part, for instance, he played out his relation with a poster that he had found in the streets on which Egyptian president Nasser found himself next to the Libanese president Rafic Hariri (who was murdered in 2005). In the third part he discussed the genre of photographs of martyrs of Hezbollah, who decorate the streets and on which all the martyrs have the same body, carrying the same cloths, with their different heads being photo-shopped on this one body. The performance was followed by a tapas buffet, and a visit of the Rabih Mroué exhibition at BAK Utrecht (also curated by Cosmin, and you should all go an see it!). <br /><br />On Friday June 18 we were back in Rotterdam to discuss the work of 5 participants on the relation between politics and aesthetics, and on the relation between biopolitics and nihilism. The session was well attended by the entire audience and led to some lively discussions. The sessions were followed by a screening of Lene Berg’s Stalin by Picasso (curated by Katarina Zdjelar). In 1953 Pablo Picasso – a member of the Communist Party – made a drawing of Joseph Stalin commissioned by the French communist weekly ‘Les Lettres Françaises’, a portrait that was intended as a tribute to the recently deceased leader. Much to Picasso’s surprise, his drawing caused a scandal. The film traces the personal, political, artistic and media implications of a simple artistic act. As with Zdjelar’s screening two days earlier, the screening led to an in-depth debate with the audience of scholars. Both the work itself and the difficulties Lene Berg ran into when exhibiting her work in Oslo and New York were discussed. After this people were quite happy with the lunch that was prepared meanwhile by three multi-talented students.<br /><br />During the afternoon we had plenary lectures by Olivier Marchart (Professor in Political Theory at University of Luzern), “On Minimal Politics” by Ben Noys (Reader in English at Chichester University), “The Political Moment of (Dis)orientation”, and myself, “The Broken Universal Scene: Universality and the Political Moment”. <br /><br />Olivier gave a lecture in which he tried to define some minimal criteria for politics. Taking issue with recent political theories that have argued that everything might be political, Oliver argued that everyday practices should not be called politics. One of the minimal conditions for politics is that it has a certain level of organization. Oliver then went on to discuss what organization means in politics and came to some minimal conditions of calling something political.<br /><br />Ben discussed how the characterization of the contemporary ‘political moment’ is dominated, across the political spectrum, by an emphasis on the disorientation, neutralization, and the ‘hollowing-out’ of politics and the political. The result, he argued, is that this leads to a call for re-orientation, re-enchantment, and re-figuration of a ‘concrete’ or possible politics. Taking issue with this, Ben analyzed how such a call usually mixes the epochal and metaphysical with the local and conjunctural to postulate a singular moment of radical ‘disorientation’. This then conjures up the idea of a concrete moment. Criticizing this illusion of concreteness, Noys made a plea for a politics of abstraction.<br /><br />I presented a paper (work in progress really) that revolved around the difficult relation between universalism in politics and the momentary nature of politics. On the one hand contemporary politics is accurately aware of the historicity of the political and affirms the momentary nature of doing politics; on the other hand modern politics has seen the emergence of a universal aspiration: the universal appeal of the nation state, the universal claims made by emancipatory political groups, and the universality of human rights are all central phenomenon of modern politics. In my lecture I looked at how universality (with its supposedly absolute and non-temporal value) could be combined with a politics that starts from the moment, from the here and now (and hence from the particular and temporal historical circumstances). I did so by paying attention to a political theorist who has done the most work in rethinking universality in politics and has paid attention to the political moment as a key notion for politics: Ernesto Laclau. (Much to my relieve both Jodi and Oliver liked what I had to say.)<br /><br />All lectures were followed by a lively discussion. In my case, members of the audience asked about my interpretation of Laclau’s work and about my ideas on the role of the modern state in constructing a concept of universalism in politics. In the case of Oliver there was considerable debate about the question whether it would be possible to define the minimal conditions of the political. In the case of Ben the question was how to think about abstraction in political terms. <br /><br />By public transport the entire group moved to debate centre De Unie, at the Westersingel, for a public lecture by Rosi Braidotti (Distinguished Professor and Director of the Centre for the Humanities at Utrecht University), “Powers of Affirmation”. Rosi sketched a general overview of her thoughts on the issue of politics in relation to her position as a feminist, poststructuralist, Deleuzian philosopher. Her question was first of all how we could avoid falling in the trap of commodifying scholarly work, in presenting it as always the newest of the new. Instead she proposed to consider the relevance of political theory as it had been developed in the seventies and eighties of the previous century. Secondly, she explored how we could present a positive account of politics by means of an ethic of affirmation. <br /><br />Our company moved back again to Wolfart Project Space for a small diner, bought and brought by a Turkish shop owner in the neighborhood. Then a screening followed of the film The Nightcleaners (Berwick Street Film Collective, 1975) with a short introduction by artists Petra Bauer and Dan Kidner. Petra and Dan introduced The Nightcleaners, a movie about the cleaning ladies in Great Britain during the early seventies. The movie presents the cleaning ladies and associates in their fight for better working conditions in short scenes (30 sec. to 5 min.) which are separated by a black (empty) screen, sometimes with a female voice over (4 sec. to 1 min.), resulting in a documentary with aesthetic qualities.<br /><br />On Saturday June 19, 6 participants presented their papers within 2 sessions, which were held simultaneously (“populism and democracy”, and “opening up the political”). The sessions were well attended and everyone participated in the discussions.<br /><br />The sessions were followed by a performance by Petra Bauer and Dan Kidner. The performance by Dan and Petra consisted in a re-reading of a scholarly paper presented at the Edinburgh film festival in the seventies of the previous century, without however notifying the audience of the fact that they were doing this. Some members of the audience immediately noticed and had to laugh, others fell asleep, others got very angry. The performance was followed by a lively (and even heated) debate. At a certain point in the discussion Dan argued that their research was an artwork and not an academic paper, and the audience’s emotional response was exactly what an artwork should bring about (or actually he literally said: if all I do is piss you off then I’m happy with that). Some scholars (myself included) argued that instead of dismissing theories from the seventies, they should be studied again for their relevance. If nothing else, the discussion showed the value of the combined theoretical and artistic program because it lead to an acute awareness of our political commitment to some of the more militant ideas from the seventies. <br /><br />During the afternoon we had plenary lectures by Mieke Bal (Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences Professor - KNAW; Amsterdam School for Cultural Analysis - ASCA, University of Amsterdam) “Wating for the Political Moment”; by Bruno Bosteels (Associate Professor of Spanish at Cornell University), “The Bolivian Moment: Communism or Andean Capitalism?”, and by Jodi Dean (Professor of Political Sciences at Erasmus University Rotterdam), “As long as the music is playing, you've got to get up and dance. We’re still dancing”. <br /><br />In her lecture Mieke Bal discussed what a ‘political moment’ could be in relation to art and the analysis of artworks. Taking the work of the Columbian-born sculptor Doris Salcedo as her point of departure, Mieke demonstrated how artworks like that of Salcedo, though they are not directly of explicitly political, force the viewer to renegotiate his or her own relation to the object that the artwork itself is. The result of this aesthetic negotiation is that we become aware of our world and our surrounding and are forced to rethink our position in it. This opens up a political moment, Mieke argued.<br /><br />Bruno Bosteels’s lecture was entitled ‘The Bolivian Moment’ and appropriately dealt with the recent political developments in Bolivia. Bosteels reflected on the recent elections in Bolivia (2009) and the socialist measures that have been taken by it. On the basis of this concrete analysis, Bruno argued against the classical Marxist concept of uneven development and instead defended a socialism of multiple temporalities in which the necessity of going through several unavoidable phases - and the linear concept of history implied by it - is rejected. This allowed him to attenuate certain claims made by (mostly) Western commentators of Bolivia, who argue that the country is going through a phase that has been experience by ore ‘developed’ countries years ago.<br /><br />Jodi Dean gave a lecture in which she analyzed the 2008 financial crisis and the mystifying discourse that surrounds it. Looking at how the crisis itself was declared unpredictable and how the culprits managed to escape responsibility on account of the so-called emergent complexity of the financial system, Jodi then analyzed the epistemological short-circuit that allows for these kind of arguments. During the second half of her lecture Jodi developed an alternative to this impasse. (this is not as good as a summary as I would have liked to provide, but suffice it to say that Jodi came up with a wonderful analysis of the impasse of action on the basis of a reading of Lacan and the discourse of the master and the discourse of the hysteric).<br /><br />All three lectures were followed by lively response and discussion. In the case of Mieke Bal the audience asked how the relation between art and politics could be approached more historically, and what position propaganda would take in this framework. With Bosteels the public discussed his critique of uneven development in relation to other nations such as Turkey. Dean discussed the motivation that was behind her ideas. After this the participants enjoyed a well-deserved cup of coffee.<br /><br />We then screened Ustala by Ine Lamers (curated again by Katarina) In USTALA, Ine Lamers explores the notion of dystopia. The story takes place in the Russian model city of Tolyatti, which was built on utopian foundations in the 1950s and 60s. Significant political and historic events – the fall of the Iron Curtain and the dismantling of the Soviet Union – transformed the collective paradise into capitalist chaos. Utopia became dystopia. In the film a group of Russian kids loiter among the silent monuments and the debris of this former Communist paradise. Their repetitive acts seem to suggest that they are caught up in a ritual. Do they really want to escape from this apocalyptic setting?<br /><br />The conference ended with a public lecture by Alberto Toscano (Senior Lecturer in Sociology at Goldsmith College, London), “Between Crisis and Catastrophe”. Alberto showed how the concept of crisis suggests that the problems at hand are in fact nothing but a temporary setback that can be overcome by the existing political regime. The problem he saw with this is that this kind of logic has not led to any effective action or appropriate measure with regard to structural problems of our society. As an alternative to this, Alberto suggested the concept of catastrophe. In the case of catastrophe, the subject and its world are entirely annihilated. As a result, the concept does not hold the promise of salvation or improvement that is inherent in ‘crisis’. By acting as if a catastrophe has already taken place and then looking at how it could have been avoided, a more profound political reaction to ecological and economic problems can be developed.<br /><br />We had a closing reception at Hotel New York with food and wine. I think we all deserved it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-25014055928548737852010-06-20T21:30:00.002+02:002010-06-20T21:33:21.723+02:00AurakillersI have absolutely no idea what kind of an impression I make on people. So I guess I sometimes literally hide behind my clothes to make up for my lack of social skills. That is why I own some extravagant (and admittedly expensive) items of clothing. In this respect I sometimes wonder whether I would buy extremely expensive labels if I could afford them. I don’t think I would and the reason is this: I don’t like labels, because I don’t like it when things are all too easily identifiable. Once objects become identifiable as belonging to this or that brand they lose their aura. Clothing and accessories should be able to capture an atmosphere and open up a world. If they have LV or D&G written all over them the only thing they open up is one’s wallet. And what’s a lot worse, they foreclose the possibility of unhinging the ordinary and lifting it to another level. I guess I am expected to add a nice Heidegger quote here. Something from <span style="font-style:italic;">Welt, Endlichkeit, Einsamkeit</span>, I suppose. Please pretend it is here so I don’t have to go through the motions. <br /><br />I’ll give you another quote instead. “Das sind vor allem ‘Dinglockungen’, maskiert; mit verschiedenen Farben der Lust und ebensolchen Phasen des Absturzes dahinter. Denn jede Lockung enthält den sirenisch gedachten Befehl zur Lust; erst dahinter, als einer verfolgten, erfahrenen, stürzt das verführte Subjekt ins ‘Gegenteil’. In den Schein, der eben <span style="font-style:italic;">nicht </span>hält, was er verspricht, weil er zu schön ist.” (You all know who this quote is from, right? A tip in case you don’t: Gershom Scholem absolutely hated this guy’s guts.) <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjoi4nACRLwVilUjdXRY74FU0q_x02yR2w6G9YvPdr1WCRHN2xeQsHxDwPCciWKHOINNOxTzZjcZJbjmffvpF86na2cu9Flt_wBAN7S9TwZvZ_ij2MAF86bjN3QtfBL-DNfQm8KvkiTs/s1600/Handtas.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjoi4nACRLwVilUjdXRY74FU0q_x02yR2w6G9YvPdr1WCRHN2xeQsHxDwPCciWKHOINNOxTzZjcZJbjmffvpF86na2cu9Flt_wBAN7S9TwZvZ_ij2MAF86bjN3QtfBL-DNfQm8KvkiTs/s320/Handtas.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484940923824459394" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-79476540411853877082010-05-31T21:17:00.001+02:002010-05-31T21:23:20.360+02:00Dear TDECI was just listening to some of the stuff that I used to listen to when I was in my early teens, things like Suede, The Pixies, Renegade Soundwave, Sonic Youth, The Stone Roses, dEUS, Meat Puppets, Heather Nova… and of course Blur. TDEC, remember that Blur concert in Cologne when we were 15? I think I accidentally threw out the plastic cup Damon gave me, when I was getting rid of some old things in my bedroom in my parents’ house, forgetting what it was, how he had said “there is someone in the front row with a fan and it’s so cute.” Thank God we hardly knew what a man was back then, hahaha! <br /><br />Remember how I was obsessed with Rimbaud and knew just about the complete <span style="font-style:italic;">Une saison en enfer by heart</span> and the pilgrimages to Charleville-Mézières, and how you were enchanted by Lord Alfred Bruce Douglas? And that time we went to school in those incredibly flashy outfits that made even the teachers grin? How we would stay at your mother’s house in Brussels to go the <a href="http://www.vkconcerts.be/">VK</a>?<br /><br />Okay, I hereby solemnly promise never to post anything sentimental and nostalgic like this again – but it was nice thinking about it.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-33205279294153912672010-05-24T20:33:00.002+02:002010-05-24T20:36:14.657+02:00Occupational Therapy for the Clinically CommunistI'll probably do some more of these, maybe even a whole series. Great Fun!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqs6URvl2K6mMIPDmgOkn20uc_GQUxy7QkJLtWAFSaujquu2lUwzM7oCAaX5hni841LF28QBNO6im0NexszHcmJTO-7MPI6IiJSrPaJIlQiJQOfrRMa421j773SPjj069DrOxfO5d1iUE/s1600/DIY+El+Lissitzky.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqs6URvl2K6mMIPDmgOkn20uc_GQUxy7QkJLtWAFSaujquu2lUwzM7oCAaX5hni841LF28QBNO6im0NexszHcmJTO-7MPI6IiJSrPaJIlQiJQOfrRMa421j773SPjj069DrOxfO5d1iUE/s320/DIY+El+Lissitzky.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474907103336558530" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-61163483699640559362010-05-22T17:17:00.003+02:002010-05-22T17:39:37.542+02:00Haribo + cul-de-sac = OddsacEvery now and then I disappear for a while. That’s just what I do. But I always resurface. What brought me back again this time was the colorful world of <a href="http://www.oddsac.com/">Oddsac </a>that came to town yesterday, along with the sun. Video artist <a href="http://diptriana.com/">Danny Perez</a> teamed up with the band <a href="http://www.myspace.com/animalcollective">Animal Collective</a> to create this vibrant multihued project which took four years to materialize. Images of laughter, revulsion and weirdness interspersed with abstract color schemes and the occasional blank page interact with ominous, happy and trance-inducing soundscapes. Hypnotizing and bewildering, psychotic and poetic, elegant and electrical, Oddsac oscillates between disgust and seduction, between the hyperkinetic activity of <a href="http://www.google.be/images?hl=nl&rlz=1G1GGLQ_NLNL364&=&q=victor%20moscoso&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi">Victor Moscoso</a>’s psychedelic posters and the static power of <a href="http://www.russianpaintings.net/articleimg/malevich/malevich_white.jpg">Kazimir Malevich</a>’s suprematist white square. <br /><br />“I hate symmetry.” It could have been my line, but I’m quoting Danny Perez here. I am convinced that in art as well as in life two things should be avoided: symmetry and association (and by extension narrative). And I guess that is what instantly made me like this work: Oddsac challenges the limits of video art, it defies the cul-de-sac of a medium that has been banging against the walls - or rather the frames - to which it has been restricted since its inception. By steering clear of the formalism of pure abstraction while at the same time not succumbing to the lure of narrative Oddsac offers a tantalizing experience of – well, of energy. Oddsac delivers a trip that leads from a girl engulfed in gooey, campers being attacked by their own marshmallows in a pitch-black wood, a blonde faceless drummer in sea of rocks as a modern day incarnation of <a href="http://kunststad.nl/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/caspar_david_friedrich-nevelzee1.jpg">Caspar David Friedrich</a>’s ‘Wanderer above the sea of fog’, over kinetic transient pulses, to an ecstatically dancing crowd without ever becoming fixed to just one set of references or just one interpretation.<br /><br />When asked where the name Oddsac originates from David Portner (aka Avey Tare) answered that they simply like candy, of the <a href="http://www.britishdelights.com/images/xm84.jpg">Haribo kind</a>, all the different kinds of candy tossed together in a bag. That somehow connects to the childlike tenderness that also pervades the work – and that makes Oddsac at the same time pretty cool and endearingly fragile. The obvious homage to B-movies and their genre conventions – such as the scene with the <a href="http://hunterblatherer.files.wordpress.com/2009/07/bela_lugosi_big2.jpg">vampire </a>who isn’t all that scary – demonstrate this delicateness as well.<br /><br />There is a laziness of the good kind, the “<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0g-NkaFYpmE&feature=related">I’m the laziest gal in town</a>” Marlene Dietrich kind of laziness, and there is laziness of the bad kind where everything just has to be easy and accessible. <a href="http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carl_von_Ossietzky">Carl von Ossietzky </a>wrote about <a href="http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siegfried_Jacobsohn">Siegfried Jacobsohn</a>: “Um politisch zu werden, brauchte er nicht die Kabbala der Ismen.” I’d argue that many artists today need the ‘kabbala of isms’ to become creative. There definitely lurks a bad kind of laziness in this. Oddsac however breathes labor, perseverance, insight and guts. <br /><br />Danny Perez said that he has a recurring dream about being in <a href="http://www.amsterdamsebinnenstad.nl/pics/oudnieuw/amstel2b.jpg">Amsterdam</a>, working there, and then finally drowning there. Makes sense, there is way too much water in this town. As Deleuze rightly pointed out: this city is a war machine due to its numerous canals. One can only hope that Danny Perez will find inspiration instead of death here. <br /><br />Here’s the trailer:<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2H48VtETngA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2H48VtETngA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-72609063924527579362010-03-18T11:12:00.006+01:002010-03-18T11:23:41.038+01:00Stiletto’s & Schaftstiefel“Mankind consists of consumers. Behind flags and flames, heroes and helpers, behind all fatherlands an altar has been erected at which pious science wrings its hands: God created the consumer! Yet God did not create the consumer that he might prosper on earth, for the consumer was created naked and becomes a dealer only when he sells clothes.” And shoes one might add. Karl Kraus was a wise man. Clothed consumers of the earth, unite!<br /><br />The story of the stiletto heel starts in the fifties. Shoes were an essential part of the hugely successful New Look that Christian Dior kicked off in 1947. In line with contemporary fashion & design trends the demand arose for shoes that matched the simple yet elegant design style that was favoured in the fifties, also known as the international style. The stiletto heel roughly belongs to the same style paradigm as the Neue Typographie, which is characterized by clarity, asymmetry, control (“controlled dadaism”), functionalism, and sans serif letters. And yes, there definitely exists a style match between the look of a nicely balanced sans serif such as Akzidenz Grotesk or Helvetica and the austere albeit curvy lines of the stiletto heel of the fifties. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/32/Akzidenz3.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 800px; height: 160px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/32/Akzidenz3.png" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xikS3KXWM3MxpV53N2ON9P6Lp2Ou6rnRFBsNWJz0wzgDkA14WojKFb4_MEKcCkAKqqPdY8tqyaRWkCXQOcnHYH1RVRhVczXXKqc_5IiXHJREFhpz6kjaDcagXc2rfgAA2G2ujDlFXU8/s1600-h/Jeann+Marsch+in+stiletto+heels.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 316px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xikS3KXWM3MxpV53N2ON9P6Lp2Ou6rnRFBsNWJz0wzgDkA14WojKFb4_MEKcCkAKqqPdY8tqyaRWkCXQOcnHYH1RVRhVczXXKqc_5IiXHJREFhpz6kjaDcagXc2rfgAA2G2ujDlFXU8/s320/Jeann+Marsch+in+stiletto+heels.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449916060159082690" /></a><br /><br />But just like so many things the so-called Swiss or international, consumer-directed, corporate style had its origins in the leftist avant-garde. One very striking example is El Lissitzky’s design and lay-out for Vladimir Mayakovsky’s collection of poems For Reading Out Loud. Notably El Lissitzky was one of the first Constructivists to disconnect the umbilical cord that existed between communist ideology and constructor-art, by transposing the constructivist art principles onto consumer advertising. Here are two poems, ‘Our March’ and ‘Left March’, from the good old days, with the poems nearly marching off the page in high and chunky Cyrillic letters.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGtqxzDKTfwzbsqB_ZWDZCorvFNbhkufwLKtXnzqm2hXTMRztUYjzkC83avcci2Tm1QEnHf6GNDMSIp_9Ch72H1D0gk8ccn1aWdrer4911qdI2vAhWiPHqO73GQ7d2NKIZ6d4U5upmy8c/s1600-h/Afb.+41+lissitzky+our+march.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGtqxzDKTfwzbsqB_ZWDZCorvFNbhkufwLKtXnzqm2hXTMRztUYjzkC83avcci2Tm1QEnHf6GNDMSIp_9Ch72H1D0gk8ccn1aWdrer4911qdI2vAhWiPHqO73GQ7d2NKIZ6d4U5upmy8c/s320/Afb.+41+lissitzky+our+march.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449915228393938402" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqO3sank9KgGf7jWtqUbjbcL1bfZsuK6OvZLO-oBdruJyosBRmgaEpQXdGIKuYvxCsElYfZLhRXte6tIaRG8QbxCwhYaGKHnq7rs2UKKKr7fUMMxLWJyw7x04f5nvVc4QCo-469UnaDSo/s1600-h/Mayakovsky&Lisstizky1063.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqO3sank9KgGf7jWtqUbjbcL1bfZsuK6OvZLO-oBdruJyosBRmgaEpQXdGIKuYvxCsElYfZLhRXte6tIaRG8QbxCwhYaGKHnq7rs2UKKKr7fUMMxLWJyw7x04f5nvVc4QCo-469UnaDSo/s320/Mayakovsky&Lisstizky1063.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449914976132226994" /></a><br /><br />With its origins in the leftist avant-garde the international style was a reaction against another sort of march: the rhythmic stampede of the Nazi Schaftstiefel that trampled all over Europe in the forties. The international style offered a counterpart to the highly politicised German design of the forties. From the beginning of typography Germany preferred blackletter or Gothic script (Textura, Rotunda, Schwabacher & Fraktur) over Latin letters, as they believed this was better suited to capture the German spirit in its distinction from the Latin mindset. Luther’s enormously influential German translation of the New Testament in 1522, e.g., was printed in Schwabacher because this further demonstrated how much Germany differed from the Latin (Catholic) world. It’s no surprise then that to many blackletter came to represent German nationalism, which disastrously culminated in the Hitler period. Some blackletter scripts from the thirties are known as ‘Schaftstiefelgrotesk’. A Schaftstiefelgrotesk is characterised by long black vertical lines resembling the boots that the German military preferred in that period, but in fact these scripts are – and this was probably not realized by the Nazi’s at the time - a mixture of Fraktur with elements of abstract geometric forms that originated in the sans serif types that were developed in the wake of the (constructivist) avant-garde.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKolaneoaVwEyfBh3fZV1x3nv7AuxNCpXRJsJseluxAtXxsVFgdF1tbFGGy_uLp0XpaKjvrPZqfsCIfAj0fJtVtDFUnMkoMkFqIuiilvYwByukNU-C8gjgbm8A8sBvuXBypufcJna5DaU/s1600-h/Afb+45+anoniem+Deutschland+typeface+1934.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 114px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKolaneoaVwEyfBh3fZV1x3nv7AuxNCpXRJsJseluxAtXxsVFgdF1tbFGGy_uLp0XpaKjvrPZqfsCIfAj0fJtVtDFUnMkoMkFqIuiilvYwByukNU-C8gjgbm8A8sBvuXBypufcJna5DaU/s320/Afb+45+anoniem+Deutschland+typeface+1934.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449915456631107282" /></a><br /><br />In order to be complete it has to be added that blackletter all of a sudden became blacklisted as of January 1941. In an official letter über-antisemite Martin Bormann rejects blackletter on the grounds that it is supposedly a ‘Jewish script’: “Die sogenannte gotische Schrift als eine deutsche Schrift anzusehen oder zu bezeichnen ist falsch. In Wirklichkeit besteht die sogenannte gotische Schrift aus Schwabacher Judenlettern.“ From now on, he continues, every official German document has to be drawn up in “Normal-Schrift.” By the way, it is interesting to notice how he uses one of the most dangerous words around: normal. If you want to mainstream something, just call it normal, implying that what you don’t like is simply… abnormal.<br /><br />And the moral of the story, my friends, is that from now on you can always counter criticism on your high-heel-wearing habits, by pointing out that typographically speaking at least it is more politically correct to wear high heels than long black boots (even despite Bormann’s letter)!<br /><br />Here’s another pair of my favourite heels, again by Victor & Rolf. (And I love that book!)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbSnfdP2Qp9w8KegksDFZfYOzmYYkLB_on5JUm05pHZBYNgGkwLrwGUlyEL9ByrU9_lr_-Que2apNeSSBPQ66zFAZ2Yww_KR_y9ZEOe1rwxpRMMcI3mUC1fJNaVUzTV2alYvsfxPHg_EE/s1600-h/V&Rfraktur.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbSnfdP2Qp9w8KegksDFZfYOzmYYkLB_on5JUm05pHZBYNgGkwLrwGUlyEL9ByrU9_lr_-Que2apNeSSBPQ66zFAZ2Yww_KR_y9ZEOe1rwxpRMMcI3mUC1fJNaVUzTV2alYvsfxPHg_EE/s320/V&Rfraktur.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449915597376667458" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-48333739036492307012010-03-13T17:51:00.015+01:002010-03-13T18:08:24.197+01:00Philosophy Street: Streetwise Philosophy in AmsterdamHere’s a selection of streets that have been named after philosophers in Amsterdam, although it’s more like philosophy in the slums I guess. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPE6xIGZswZn439SSMPulSn_LdWPGndRbPq3mB-qLTB3pQQX_s30AslwpRDuS7Lz2xNKGbBhBUmi99iVsi9hKcIYncfV6j3-t2feZ4vy4HXKIi9MHVfalcuLgKR6VHK_rgBo7PDl5u3no/s1600-h/Epicurus.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPE6xIGZswZn439SSMPulSn_LdWPGndRbPq3mB-qLTB3pQQX_s30AslwpRDuS7Lz2xNKGbBhBUmi99iVsi9hKcIYncfV6j3-t2feZ4vy4HXKIi9MHVfalcuLgKR6VHK_rgBo7PDl5u3no/s320/Epicurus.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448163175441719874" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFf4ExtVitquf5cd1mc5_cTvKtR38N-HJxj9xw_HiWNV-WngfpZ_yToGTO0-ck3iJEg5n8EumCIcweahav09U9V4FsBMyXNKr-VzIEhM2hmG2GQ0zatw6V04y1mWg2p3Z12aJIkgiSupY/s1600-h/Bergson.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFf4ExtVitquf5cd1mc5_cTvKtR38N-HJxj9xw_HiWNV-WngfpZ_yToGTO0-ck3iJEg5n8EumCIcweahav09U9V4FsBMyXNKr-VzIEhM2hmG2GQ0zatw6V04y1mWg2p3Z12aJIkgiSupY/s320/Bergson.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448164124982176882" /></a> <br /><br />“Beyond the walls of your room, which you perceive at this moment, there are the adjoining rooms, then the rest of the house, finally the street and the town in which you live. It signifies little to which theory of matter you adhere; realist or idealist, you are evidently thinking, when you speak of the town, of the street, of the other rooms in the house, of so many perceptions absent from your consciousness and yet given outside of it.” (Bergson)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-oF87L52oBu0fkGpbrOSHR9hJtYcnfjol2xG3dWFXHYjR1PZkg4Cakd19N01JzEltfT3Dv6rsCkKz5hWENMkz-cnIvUBiK5de1CBPGO3GrV7yB-bI0X1NQesVdXNdOxmg5PJeIaFlzt4/s1600-h/Kierkegaard&Descartes.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-oF87L52oBu0fkGpbrOSHR9hJtYcnfjol2xG3dWFXHYjR1PZkg4Cakd19N01JzEltfT3Dv6rsCkKz5hWENMkz-cnIvUBiK5de1CBPGO3GrV7yB-bI0X1NQesVdXNdOxmg5PJeIaFlzt4/s320/Kierkegaard&Descartes.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448163641831239122" /></a><br /><br />“You walk down the street, one house looks like the other, and only the experienced observer suspects that in that house, at midnight, everything looks quite different: an unhappy person wanders about, unable to rest; he climbs the stairs, his steps echo in the stillness of the night. We pass one another in the street, the one person looks like the other, and the other just like anyone else, and only the experienced observer suspects that, in that head, there lives a lodger who has nothing to do with the world, but lives out his lonely life confined to quiet domesticity.” (Kierkegaard)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-UqBfbCejBOkQy-MQWa0b6MXBIIZhehChAut4sGR5i9CaDvwZry76GaLKyCeyEU9sHoexgFJDeN91jo-NrRwm9oBVfSyU2JRQrQ-Ca-Wm6RZDjiFqOPgqnzOuMu2UH-wLfeYK8Hwkwj8/s1600-h/Schopenhauer.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-UqBfbCejBOkQy-MQWa0b6MXBIIZhehChAut4sGR5i9CaDvwZry76GaLKyCeyEU9sHoexgFJDeN91jo-NrRwm9oBVfSyU2JRQrQ-Ca-Wm6RZDjiFqOPgqnzOuMu2UH-wLfeYK8Hwkwj8/s320/Schopenhauer.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448163882625684738" /></a><br /><br />“Therefore nature is always ready to let the individual fall, and the individual is accordingly not only exposed to destruction in a thousand ways from the most insignificant accidents, but is even destined for this and is led towards it by nature herself, from the moment that individual has served the maintenance of the species.” (Schopenhauer)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghuOyBEQUwCkGSI1KheTepXi2kG0FyL6buXEydB17PeONocSCeESGn-TG4erZNNT1fRJT_23tXLCKtO9f6QUNW5mcPWaL7mh8MzyE5nAjIWgOxYnlLZW7QuFSYKofPhC6643Rqql3GR2g/s1600-h/Hegel2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghuOyBEQUwCkGSI1KheTepXi2kG0FyL6buXEydB17PeONocSCeESGn-TG4erZNNT1fRJT_23tXLCKtO9f6QUNW5mcPWaL7mh8MzyE5nAjIWgOxYnlLZW7QuFSYKofPhC6643Rqql3GR2g/s320/Hegel2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448163382962139922" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggVWRsmrOd3xbj4hHp6Tsc-7KYIhFNV5P-37NQvyeaYj_zwwSIQjrRowT1DF-TSMqdvldaocYqK-nkCdj7PwZifWgZE2qWm2PZ53zjbDsGnZGSxLTjBW_WgUsfTJfAp_7dDQwLF_ajsRM/s1600-h/Hegel.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggVWRsmrOd3xbj4hHp6Tsc-7KYIhFNV5P-37NQvyeaYj_zwwSIQjrRowT1DF-TSMqdvldaocYqK-nkCdj7PwZifWgZE2qWm2PZ53zjbDsGnZGSxLTjBW_WgUsfTJfAp_7dDQwLF_ajsRM/s320/Hegel.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448163300179399954" /></a><br /><br />“The shapes of consciousness are not fully conscious of themselves as shapes of consciousness, nor of their place in a continuous conscious history, until the end of the road is reached.” (Hegel)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalnw-BxY_uA_iQfuoixwtFGbft5EmWfo9YZ0ZiQc9gbLlOIOFrL_j-x0YkNcc49rr-FuimZWf7L7D_RMrnz_i6OyyZEDwokouUtA4HXlh_FjlN420QZbisHlRCQpJWQ0iSOddmTmthRo/s1600-h/Locke.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalnw-BxY_uA_iQfuoixwtFGbft5EmWfo9YZ0ZiQc9gbLlOIOFrL_j-x0YkNcc49rr-FuimZWf7L7D_RMrnz_i6OyyZEDwokouUtA4HXlh_FjlN420QZbisHlRCQpJWQ0iSOddmTmthRo/s320/Locke.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448163738544770482" /></a><br /><br />“But conquest is as far from setting up any government as demolishing a house is from building a new one in the place.” (Locke)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKFEX7Ztl9hHiqY9cjWFtRXCqPJrk-tRlnvYGozpck1V9YdE64w7_iF-x1xrstAu3EUGK4ef5A_pqeK60GD3xMy1LksLSDEKS7SaWCgCUH8AyqUkKQJ4ro8TabafVAJbY_vQAmz6z303A/s1600-h/Descartes.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKFEX7Ztl9hHiqY9cjWFtRXCqPJrk-tRlnvYGozpck1V9YdE64w7_iF-x1xrstAu3EUGK4ef5A_pqeK60GD3xMy1LksLSDEKS7SaWCgCUH8AyqUkKQJ4ro8TabafVAJbY_vQAmz6z303A/s320/Descartes.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448164179498591986" /></a><br /><br />“’Have sensations, as a dog does, or think, as an ape does, or imagine, as a mule does.’ Here my critic is laying the ground for a battle about terminology.” (Descartes)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sVQVmGHfLdVyRPNnOhHPGCDUzcQyPzDuPXsoHqVCEzYreyQZ_hOKcYkVGHttj39BnCDUzCyoHWVe_PHdAwQe36rVTpUQNwDz9YIFx_VjiAcMPCkH3NhoQQUhCDGwHXYg3zNxFNyFKIw/s1600-h/Aristoteles.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7sVQVmGHfLdVyRPNnOhHPGCDUzcQyPzDuPXsoHqVCEzYreyQZ_hOKcYkVGHttj39BnCDUzCyoHWVe_PHdAwQe36rVTpUQNwDz9YIFx_VjiAcMPCkH3NhoQQUhCDGwHXYg3zNxFNyFKIw/s320/Aristoteles.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448164059751445506" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDzWI1FymkBIrxQQg7SPD_Ou-KrUB7XLpD705loTMpeT9ppcx0S39WuJ_Xpe83snSz0enEvSqGnxH69LxCZT33EMNXmbTOLpM5M4Y2zX8UjadESPyzk8B2tekSZSnNI_WY_C1-1D-FjDc/s1600-h/Socrates&Parmenides.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDzWI1FymkBIrxQQg7SPD_Ou-KrUB7XLpD705loTMpeT9ppcx0S39WuJ_Xpe83snSz0enEvSqGnxH69LxCZT33EMNXmbTOLpM5M4Y2zX8UjadESPyzk8B2tekSZSnNI_WY_C1-1D-FjDc/s320/Socrates&Parmenides.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448163948322735970" /></a><br /><br />“- But then, what is to become of philosophy? Whither shall we turn, if the ideas are unknown?<br /><br />- I certainly do not see my way at present.<br /><br />- Yes, said Parmenides; and I think that this arises, Socrates, out of your attempting to define the beautiful, the just, the good, and the ideas generally, without sufficient previous training. I noticed your deficiency, when I heard you talking here with your friend Aristoteles, the day before yesterday. The impulse that carries you towards philosophy is assuredly noble and divine; but there is an art which is called by the vulgar idle talking, and which is often imagined to be useless: in that you must train and exercise yourself, now that you are young, or truth will elude your grasp.” (Plato)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ639uW24NejwpD_IqeOXVpNpa_9H4XDlvbjREEG-EE-js3gRkAveIdnhbPQ3Tnd387xxdNI3hhM_w7UsPQ5_JkDuxAaF2eMf3RfpDiqs4SgJeHeZ_gY4UldBCuo62gh7gUq-pKRzQIhY/s1600-h/Rousseau.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ639uW24NejwpD_IqeOXVpNpa_9H4XDlvbjREEG-EE-js3gRkAveIdnhbPQ3Tnd387xxdNI3hhM_w7UsPQ5_JkDuxAaF2eMf3RfpDiqs4SgJeHeZ_gY4UldBCuo62gh7gUq-pKRzQIhY/s320/Rousseau.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448163808556463138" /></a><br /><br />“When the home is a gloomy solitude pleasure will be sought elsewhere.” (Rousseau)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdUCoIwA4UHvHnP07NDSk8txJ8DrMxMThxpG8hDd-1wY5WeBomYvlsFwA3uVz8Ow-37TCBhbCVJ905CP1euNAIQnvdkmyE2FKdCwHq6__2d2EcRirJpE2ZIzaSaRCawLaw-6vlfkE_GRw/s1600-h/Hume.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdUCoIwA4UHvHnP07NDSk8txJ8DrMxMThxpG8hDd-1wY5WeBomYvlsFwA3uVz8Ow-37TCBhbCVJ905CP1euNAIQnvdkmyE2FKdCwHq6__2d2EcRirJpE2ZIzaSaRCawLaw-6vlfkE_GRw/s320/Hume.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448163459794441810" /></a><br /><br />“We found a vanity upon houses, gardens, equipages, as well as upon personal merit and accomplishments; and tho’ these external advantages be in themselves widely distant from thought or a person, yet they considerably influence even a passion, which is directed to that as its ultimate object. This happens when external objects acquire any particular relation to ourselves, and are associated or connected with us.” (Hume)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1KA-ztX06b4eujB9U7Qhat3AfO2Cs1aMllhuIYUb8wWBGXUWEpx05aNXtQbOvBRlv7nIxUum9_RasCh7j6G-A2ofYy4rXhnyp8It7rPeC2KYyxSU_GI9ia4AmHpnS0kmDU5YuuOWrek/s1600-h/Diderot.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1KA-ztX06b4eujB9U7Qhat3AfO2Cs1aMllhuIYUb8wWBGXUWEpx05aNXtQbOvBRlv7nIxUum9_RasCh7j6G-A2ofYy4rXhnyp8It7rPeC2KYyxSU_GI9ia4AmHpnS0kmDU5YuuOWrek/s320/Diderot.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448164233699394370" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimilcnnO8JwRF7frzqCUpUJ4tcgwqEVEoog1B7u1ZU8KKArkmx-DJcw0w5DmEyfCBwyJnhh_-IBXMh1np9rgjwLmKAtGBx8OerTKee8cXKgAbi-ioWtEr0lIeRuxgyJF2_70ddKLf4Ehw/s1600-h/Kant.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimilcnnO8JwRF7frzqCUpUJ4tcgwqEVEoog1B7u1ZU8KKArkmx-DJcw0w5DmEyfCBwyJnhh_-IBXMh1np9rgjwLmKAtGBx8OerTKee8cXKgAbi-ioWtEr0lIeRuxgyJF2_70ddKLf4Ehw/s320/Kant.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448163528344208610" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-50735872920410650842010-03-11T09:01:00.006+01:002010-03-11T09:14:39.817+01:00Collar Blind, or Des goûts et des cols, on ne discute pasAt the beginning of Eric Rohmer’s 1967 film <span style="font-style:italic;">La collectionneuse</span> one of the protagonists, Daniel, an avant-garde painter, is discussing his art with a friend. Daniel has painted a can and lined it all around with razor blades. When his friend picks up the can he cuts himself and he bleeds. This incites him to comment : « Tu me fait beaucoup penser à l’élégance des gens du fin de la 18ième siècle, qui étaient extrêmement soucieux de leur apparence, de l’effet qu’ils produisaient sur les autres. Cet effet c’était déjà une création, c’était déjà le commencement de la révolution. La distance établie par l’élégance par rapport au gens non-élégants est capitale. Parce qu’elle s’établit une sorte de vide autour de la personne. C’est ce vide autour de la personne que tu crées, que tu crées avec tes objets aussi d’ailleurs.» The sharp edges of the razor blades and the blood lead his train of thought toward the aristocratic absolutist regime that was overthrown by the revolution. The word ‘capitale’ certainly has an extra ring here.<br /><br />The razor blades demand distance. The elegance, the powdered faces and the sheer size of the robes and wigs that the aristocrats of Versailles wore, the estheticism of the regime, also commanded a material distance. This made it sheer impossible to come close to them physically, thus establishing a zone of emptiness that became ultimately unbridgeable. The emptiness surrounding someone like Marie-Antoinette is excellently conveyed in Sofia Coppola’s movie. The chasm between these ‘elegant’ people and the ‘non-elegant’ population paved the way for the revolution, since this in itself is already a pushing to the extreme of the system, an ‘aller jusqu’au bout’, which calls for the collapse of the regime. What does this say about the artist Daniel? His friend seems to imply that the ‘jusqu’au bout’ of Daniel’s art objects fuels revolution just like the distancing elegance of the Versaillesians. Both are catalysts of revolution, both counterdemand revolt, because the gap they generate forecloses any form of connection. <br /><br />In La chambre claire Roland Barthes discusses a photograph by Lewis W. Hine of two retarded children to illustrate his well-known theory of the studium and the punctum. The studium represents what is culturally coded, whereas the punctum refers to that which is not reducible to conventions but which draws the attention of the individual viewer regardless. Barthes writes: “[…] des deux enfants débiles d’une institution du New Jersey (photographiés en 1924 par Lewis W. Hine), je ne vois guère les têtes monstrueuses et les profiles pitoyables (cela fait partie du studium) ; ce que je vois, […], c’est le détail décentré, l’immense col Danton du gosse, la poupée au doigt de la fille ; je suis un sauvage, un enfant – ou un maniaque ; je congédie tout savoir, toute culture, je m’abstiens d’hériter d’un autre regard. » Instead of focusing on the giant head of the girl or the dwarflike figure of the boy Barthes claims that he only really notices the minuscule bandage on the finger of the huge headed girl and the oversized collar of the tiny boy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b1/Georges_Danton.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 236px; height: 285px;" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/b/b1/Georges_Danton.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />In his article ‘Notes on the Photographic Image’ (published in Radical Philosophy) and in his book <span style="font-style:italic;">The Emancipated Spectator</span>, Jacques Rancière criticizes Roland Barthes’ theory of the studium and the punctum by arguing that the punctum is always already affected by what Barthes calls the studium. It’s interesting to note how Roland Barthes’ mentioning of the Danton collar of the boy goads Rancière onto a similar mode of thought as Rohmer’s character. The Danton collar makes him think of the role that Danton played in the revolution, and hence of death. The Rohmer character moves from razor blades and blood to revolution. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://wwwmcc.murdoch.edu.au/~mchoul/H335/barthes.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 448px; height: 312px;" src="http://wwwmcc.murdoch.edu.au/~mchoul/H335/barthes.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />Technically a Danton collar is a high collar that is folded over. And indeed, that seems to be what the little boy is wearing, although I think Rancière is right when he claims that: “The French reader has no idea what a Danton collar might be. However, the name is immediately associated with that of a revolutionary who had his head sliced off by the guillotine. The punctum is nothing other than death foretold.” (in <a href="http://www.radicalphilosophy.com/default.asp?channel_id=2188&editorial_id=28229">Radical Philosophy</a>) Every collar does in a way separate the head from the body, and this is especially the case with high collars. The association between a high collar (as a partial object), cutting off the head, the revolution, the guillotine, Danton and ultimately death is not that far-fetched. Only, I would argue that his collar bears a closer resemblance to another sort of collar that is more widely known: the Richelieu collar. Richelieu versus Danton: an aristocratic cardinal and architect of the absolute monarchy versus a revolutionary leader. What would it have meant if Roland Barthes would have referred to the boy’s collar as a Richelieu collar? <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKiPGP-QUo1met56OYamGRxKRi8CVlZmFyrS_XWWLRCzqub_2C62J5PlVH1wgPI8k4qmjfqno1fjHOkP2ZHZ-S6vzJ9TgBK7PeJ5xeTr0qua-CY_esnQ8328ovQdJxUN6h7WTbEUSgb0/s1600-h/richelieu.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNKiPGP-QUo1met56OYamGRxKRi8CVlZmFyrS_XWWLRCzqub_2C62J5PlVH1wgPI8k4qmjfqno1fjHOkP2ZHZ-S6vzJ9TgBK7PeJ5xeTr0qua-CY_esnQ8328ovQdJxUN6h7WTbEUSgb0/s320/richelieu.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447286451399572642" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-72199811117823785122010-03-06T10:25:00.006+01:002010-03-06T10:35:51.581+01:00The Dynamic Verticalism of High HeelsHigh heels. There has been a lot of discussion about why we should or shouldn’t wear them: they are unhealthy for your feet (a couple of weeks ago Victoria Beckham’s bunions shocked a nation) or maybe they are not really that harmful as long as the heels aren’t too high; they are empowering (“High heels create a level of authority”) or bimbofying (“The stiletto has been widely recognized as symbolizing female subordination”) or both; they serve as a penis substitute or an extra vagina… Hell, those aren’t arguments. As the Dude would say: “That’s just like your opinion man.” That’s why I would like to suggest some different theoretically inspired takes on heels. Here’s the first.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Heels as modernist steeplejacking<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span><br />Wearing high heels makes you taller. That in itself is hardly a merit. Why would anyone want to be tall rather than petite? Yet there exists a persistent penchant for tallness & thinness. Instead of considering this in the context of anorexic model mania I would like to propose wearing high heels as a tribute to the slender yet firm vertical erectness of modern(ist) architecture.<br /><br />One of the landmarks to revere in this respect is Vladimir Tatlin’s ‘Monument to the Third International’ from 1920 - according to Vladimir Mayakovsky “the first monument without a beard.” This 1300 feet ‘dreamworld’ building was never realized due to the technical limitations of early revolutionary Russia. Tatlin constructed a 20 ft. model of his project which was on display in Moscow, but it was the print that Nikolaj Punin made of it that gained the monument a greater audience all over Europe. Punin wrote about Tatlin’s project: “Societies divided by class fought to own the earth, the line of their movement is horizontal. The spiral is the movement of liberated humanity. The spiral is the ideal expression of liberation: with its base set in the earth, it flees from the ground and becomes a symbol of the suspension of all animal, earthly and grovelling interests.” So, allow your heels to lift you into the sky, to be liberated from the urge to conquer every square inch of the earth in acts of horizontal territorialization and become instead a dynamic locomotor apparatus of revolutionary verticalism. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://newsfeed.kosmograd.com/images/tatlin/double_tatlin.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 440px; height: 280px;" src="http://newsfeed.kosmograd.com/images/tatlin/double_tatlin.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Ludwig Mies van der Rohe, who has his roots in the Bauhaus, is another modernist who deserves homage from high heels-wearers across the globe. He referred to his own work as ‘skin & bones architecture’, as it was skimmed to the pure basic essentials of steel, concrete & glass - and height. The Seagram building, which Mies developed together with Philip Johnson in New York in 1957, is a prime example: not only does the building reach for the clouds, it is perched on pillars as if it is standing on its toes to attain even more height. It is interesting to note how the Constructivists’ idea that verticality has a revolutionary quality was appropriated by the International Style that became almost synonym with corporate culture. It seems that in the last instance the corporate incorporates all. Is the uncanny resemblance to the skin & bones look of the high-heeled modern businesswoman merely accidental? <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://dekluizenaar.mimesis.nl/wp-images/seagram_building.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="http://dekluizenaar.mimesis.nl/wp-images/seagram_building.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />Here’s a photograph of a pair of my favourite heels, by Victor & Rolf.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBBCu2hhb9br8siWHXfEzkFQtr-98YAvnlTHx5xmD3Yu05aBP1YCr4_WhLeFQcjVlBlzelnkwLwktlGYrDqpa7_g7bFsKRBVlEDE-5PmDhq2bg8dFHxsWbx4UEOPzayqLfbN90TGPjfqU/s1600-h/Victor&Rolf1.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBBCu2hhb9br8siWHXfEzkFQtr-98YAvnlTHx5xmD3Yu05aBP1YCr4_WhLeFQcjVlBlzelnkwLwktlGYrDqpa7_g7bFsKRBVlEDE-5PmDhq2bg8dFHxsWbx4UEOPzayqLfbN90TGPjfqU/s200/Victor&Rolf1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445450819739608162" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-67781620860090360202010-03-02T23:37:00.007+01:002010-03-02T23:57:09.326+01:00Mind the captionsMaybe I should have called this blog: Mirror Metaphysics – a blog on Fashion, Food, Philosophy & War (or rather Fighting, to stick to the F-alliteration thing). Because, yes, I admit it, my fascination for war stretches further than a uniform fetish. <br /> <br />I used to teach philosophy (ranging from an introductory course to philosophy of culture and media, to aesthetics and art theory) to Fine Arts students. They work with images every day but to them images seem to be mere objects that yearn to be photoshopped, cut up, or scribbled over, and sometimes objects that simply ought to be created for the glorious satisfaction of creation ex nihilo (well, pro magistro to be more precise). In any case images are certainly nothing that deserves any kind of reflection other than ‘what grade would I get for this’. So, as I had to tell them something, I decided to discuss Susan Sontag’s essay <span style="font-style:italic;">Regarding the Pain of Others. </span><br /><br />The first thing that captures the attention when reading <span style="font-style:italic;">Regarding the Pain of Others </span>is that even though Susan Sontag’s text deals exclusively with images there is not a single reproduction of an image in it. Sontag describes the images she builds her argument around extensively so that the viewer can imagine them, but they are not shown. This concurs with her thesis that images can only affect, whereas narratives can effect understanding. Only when furnished with captions can images be ‘read’ comprehensively. In this respect Sontag’s text could be regarded as one ultra image-caption: the whole essay is one huge caption to a collection of images that are ultimately not shown. Is this a strategic move to prove her point that it’s all in the captions, that only a narrative (even of images analyzed) can provoke thought, while images alone lead merely to (mindless?) affect as they ‘haunt’ their viewer? (Would an image-essay, a line-up of every image Sontag talks about yield the same conclusions she draws – with or without captions?) <br /><br />In her book <span style="font-style:italic;">Frames of War. When is Life Grievable?</span> Judith Butler makes an interesting point. She states that by the end of <span style="font-style:italic;">Regarding the Pain of Others </span>Sontag seems to conclude that photography can effectuate at least some form of understanding in that it “brings us close to an understanding of the fragility and mortality of human life, the stakes of death in the scene of politics.” (96) Butler points out that the frustration Sontag experiences when confronted with pain-depicting photographs lies in the fact that while these photographs succeed in causing outrage because of what they depict, they fail to canal this outrage towards political action. This shows clearly from Sontag’s analysis of Virginia Woolf’s <span style="font-style:italic;">Three Guineas </span>and Ernst Friedrich’s <span style="font-style:italic;">Krieg dem Kriege</span>. <br /><br />Sontag blames Woolf for being naive (and ‘tartly’) in her idea that there exists a one-on-one relation between experiencing indignation when seeing (photographic) evidence of violence and the automatic response to desire the immediate ending of this violence and the atrocities it creates in its wake – at least to the rational mind. After dealing with Virginia Woolf, Sontag moves on to Ernst Friedrich. Friedrich, a WWI veteran himself and as ardent a pacifist as they came in the Interwar Years, published the book <span style="font-style:italic;">Krieg dem Kriege</span> in 1924. The book consists of a collection of photographs, mostly of horrifying scenes and mutilated bodies (I must admit I have the book lying next to me but I shudder to leaf through it). In the true spirit of the International the book is composed in four languages. It carries the same strong anti-war message that Friedrich tried to convey in the <a href="http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anti-Kriegs-Museum">Anti-Kriegs-Museum</a> that he founded in Berlin in 1925. Friedrich, Sontag argues, is one step further than Woolf in that he recognizes the power and the necessity of captions in the effective employment of photographs against war. But to both Woolf & Friedrich it is simple: they believe in a direct causal connection between seeing atrocities and the need to abolish their origin, i.e. war and violence. Sontag claims that position has become untenable: we have been bombarded with so many gruesome pictures that we have become numbed, anaesthetized, no longer shockeable, hence her dictum: “The image as shock and the image as cliché or two aspects of the same presence.” (23)<br /><br />Until the twenties and thirties one could be a total pacifist. Public intellectuals like Einstein, Woolf or Russell could argue against war – all war. The really heinous & vicious thing today is of course that war itself has gotten an entirely different interpretation. Whereas until the thirties it could be considered as a pure act of violence that leads to carnage and is therefore reprehensible, war today is (roughly) represented as either something unlawful that primitive states engage in (Congolese tribesmen and the like) or as something lawful in which case it is often connected to the idea of a just war, a humanitarian necessity. The idea of war as a bad thing has become tainted. One of the evil-doers in this respect is definitely Michael Walzer. Just one example from his book <span style="font-style:italic;">Just and Unjust Wars. A Moral Argument with Historical Illustrations</span> which is permeated with statements which are as formalistic as they are pernicious, such as this one: <br /><br /><blockquote>But war is hell even when the rules are observed, even when only soldiers are killed and civilians are consistently spared. Surely no experience of modern warfare has etched its horror so deeply in our minds as the fighting in the trenches of World War I –and in the trenches civilian lives are rarely at risk. The distinction between combatants and bystanders is enormously important in the theory of war, but our first and most fundamental moral judgment doesn’t depend on it. For in one sense at least, soldiers in battle and nonparticipating civilians are not so different: the soldiers would almost certainly be nonparticipants if they could. (30) </blockquote><br />So in war, apparently, we encounter the following categories, nice and neat: soldiers, civilians and the idea of (non)participation. It almost seems as though for Walzer donning oneself in a uniform automatically turns one into a soldier, that all soldiers are professional soldiers (even if they are conscripted), and that by becoming soldiers they become an ontologically separated category from civilians. Well, if you hold that conviction the statement that most soldiers in battle wish to be non-participants does not make sense: professional soldiers know there will be fighting and generally they realize what they have signed up for. (Has the man never read Jünger?) By claiming that most soldiers wish to be nonparticipants Walzer acknowledges in a way that they are not real soldiers, that in fact maybe they are just civilians dressed liked soldiers. Freud was correct when he referred to the Austrian-Hungarian army of the First World War as a ‘Volksheer’, an army of conscripted civilians. They say the clothes do not make the man, but the uniform does seem to make the soldier for Walzer. (And another thing: I am always suspicious when a book claims to offer a ‘moral’ analysis.) <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.greatwar.nl/children/child06.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 331px; height: 495px;" src="http://www.greatwar.nl/children/child06.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a> <br /><br />Walzer appears to start from the idea that (almost) all human beings are rational & moral beings that do not desire war (after all mayhem & chaos don’t make for a rational order of things and they do tend to be morally challenging), but every now and then the necessity of war forces itself upon even the most rational & moral minds. Luckily enough we have a set of rules available for when this unfortunate situation occurs. Strangely enough in this respect Walzer, Woolf & Friedrich seem to concur: they all seem to depart from the idea that a) humans are rational & moral (or at least possess the innate capacity to be so), and b) that the rational & moral thing to do is not to want war and all the horror that comes with it. The difference is that some claim that the horror has to end immediately, whereas others believe that you have to fight – and produce some more horror first - if reason and moral call for it.<br /><br />Friedrich is abhorred by the massive death & destruction of the First World War (and is willing to fight war manu militari). In his book he shows in pictures (with snappy captions or juxtaposed in a lugubrious ‘before & after’) what writers such as Erich Maria Remarque, Carl Zuckmayer, Arnold Zweig & loads of others describe. But I would argue that the main difference between these two approaches is not so much the fact that one works with words and the other with images and captions. The main difference lies rather in the observation that Friedrich employs ironic (cynical even) humor whereas the others remain devoid of humor when discussing the horrors of war. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5EX_nqHo_J60SOSWMESfXe8V64KAUXn706B6T5Scw77NAiog_RldhIzc5lUKevAis3iX-AZH_cI_7m88kHHBl7EVFypeot8D60xaIW_tjHbfCSpKXulJl763aI6s2D0kQcPVj9NTK5o0/s1600-h/Das+Ebenbild+Gottes+mit+Gasmaske062.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 122px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5EX_nqHo_J60SOSWMESfXe8V64KAUXn706B6T5Scw77NAiog_RldhIzc5lUKevAis3iX-AZH_cI_7m88kHHBl7EVFypeot8D60xaIW_tjHbfCSpKXulJl763aI6s2D0kQcPVj9NTK5o0/s200/Das+Ebenbild+Gottes+mit+Gasmaske062.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444169927738645714" /></a> <br />Here are some random German examples of descriptions of the horrors of war, one in the form of an autobiography, one a war diary and one as a novel based on personal experiences. <br />Ernst Toller, <span style="font-style:italic;">Eine Jugend in Deutschland</span>: <br /><blockquote>An Krücken humpelt mit zerrissenen und blutbefleckten Kleidern einer, dem sie das Bein weggeschossen haben. Ich sehe zum ersten mahl einen Verwundeten. [a classic topic: almost every single one of them recounts their rite of passage into soldierhood at their first experience of wounds and death]. Ich sehe ein lehmgelbes, eingefallenes Gesicht, müde, blicklose Augen, .... Wir begraben unsere Toten nicht …. Oft warden ihre Körper so zerrissen, dass nur ein Fetzen Fleisch, an einem Baumstumpf klebend, an sie erinnert. ...“</blockquote><br />Egon Erwin Kisch, <span style="font-style:italic;">Schreib das auf, Kisch! Das Kriegstagebuch von Egon Erwin Kisch</span>:<br /><blockquote>Die Kolonne der Verwundeten, die zu Fuss kommen, wird dadurch nicht geringer. Von Schüssen zersprengte Knochen ragen aus dem Fleisch, Hautfetzen hängen von den Gesichtern, Bluse, Mantel, Verband imprägniert mit einem einzigen Farbstoff: mit Blut. Immer dichter, immer ergreifender wird der Totentanz. Einer hat die Stirn verbunden, zwei tragen ihn mehr, als er geht, er hält den Kopf weit zurück in den Necken gedrückt, damit er trotz der Bandage nicht verblute. Aber der Fuss fliesst nach hinten.<br />Barfüssig schleppen sich andere vorwärts, beide Füsse verbunden, der Stock ist ihr einziges Bein, weinende Burschen, deren geröteten Hosen Schenkelwunden verraten, hunderte anderer Jammerbilden. Dann ein Gruppenbild: ein Hilfsplatz des Inf.-Regts. 102. Tote liegen da, die Füsse hochgezogen vor Schmerz, bevor sie Erlösung fanden. Einer liegt, den Kopf nach links geneigt, auf der Bahre, seine starren Hände halten die Photographie einer jungen Frau und zweier Kinder.<br />Einer brüllt, einer wimmert, die meisten haben die Hände gefaltet und murmeln Unverständliches, warscheinlich Bitten und Gebete. </blockquote><br />A.M. Frey, <span style="font-style:italic;">Die Pflasterkästen. Ein Feldsanitätsroman</span><br /><blockquote>Funk sieht zum ersten Mahl grosse Verwundungen in Masse. Einem Pionier ist die Bauchdecke weggenommen. Die Därme quellen hervor, blaugrau, träge sich rührend, als wollten sie über die zerfetzte Uniform davonkriechen. Der Mann liegt auf dem Rücken, er blutet erschreckenderweise kaum. Er sagt nur unablässig mit hoher, entsetzlich kläglicher Stimme: „Hu, mich friert – hu, mich friert!“ Er hat den jäh einsetzenden Frost der Schwerverletzten. Er selbst scheint nicht zu merken, dass auch seine Hand am Knöchel glatt abgeschlagen ist, sie hängt nur noch an einem Hautstück und baumelt leise mit verkrallten Fingern, denn er hält den Arm im Ellbogen aufgestützt. Auch hier keine Blutung bei in sich gerollten Adern.<br />Andern sind die Arme zerschmettert, die Brüste aufgerissen, die Hälse zerfleischt.</blockquote><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRZl1fXrczpfT2B6FXqHdqPlfErhmh0KiICBeBz5KOzx2J51myPBI0cwjHlwl5CMMXP57waQ5LJY1zLyKO5FAcTognrJIYeh4Wz-WFjZazSCBes0uDLwi1_uUnWKJPivPe0RzKKnSpBc/s1600-h/The+Pride+of+the+Family061.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 163px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWRZl1fXrczpfT2B6FXqHdqPlfErhmh0KiICBeBz5KOzx2J51myPBI0cwjHlwl5CMMXP57waQ5LJY1zLyKO5FAcTognrJIYeh4Wz-WFjZazSCBes0uDLwi1_uUnWKJPivPe0RzKKnSpBc/s200/The+Pride+of+the+Family061.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444170283159366098" /></a> <br />These three reports are all written by left-wing writers who share Ernst Friedrich’s pacifism. Friedrich relies on captions and juxtapositioning as an instrument for inserting contemplation into the pictures he presents. The writers cannot add a text balloon or a notation in the margin of their text to express how they feel about the scenes they portray. They express their individual interpretation of the events by their own specific style (ranging from cold and matter-of-factly to pathetic laments) and often by adding some sort of condemnation after the description of the repulsive effects of brutality. A depiction of vileness is regularly followed by an exclamation along the lines of ‘this is bad’, e.g. in Frey: “Funk mustert die Leichen, voll neugierigen Grimms. Schau es dir an, das Antlitz des angeblichen Heldentums, das Schandalantlitz des Krieges!“ This does not differ so much from Friedrich’s collage of the heroic German ‘pride of the family’ before and after the battle. The main difference here is that Friedrich’s rendition of the same problem (heroism can lead to a gruesome death) incites a kind of ironic power that Frey’s account does not convey. It would seem that Friedrich’s ironic comments and bricolage succeed in adding a dimension that only the fragmentary loneliness of those two images connected by a remark that is at the same time callous and compassionate can suggest. To Sontag these images don’t incite political action. Even the shock they produce is cliché. Maybe that is the case. But Friedrich’s captions certainly aren’t mere clichés. Their ironic power evokes something that reaches beyond the cliché and touches the universal.<br /><br />(By the way, it’s quite unbelievable but Ernst Friedrich does not have an English Wikipedia page!!)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-76240658360376282682010-02-27T17:21:00.007+01:002010-02-27T17:33:37.316+01:00Spats & Gaiters II<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEOFh9dU3YX8bw47vovwep-kPxrcEiLSjp19RSkBzJ4_g0UtzmnpDca4TUELwUny6KXfUDj9-boCyH0Ba5_PTV1wY98OwGrQeFbQ1lAnWMPKI0QGfj9NgxgJgDTOtLPiCaH7ui8oG8GQg/s1600-h/spatslow.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEOFh9dU3YX8bw47vovwep-kPxrcEiLSjp19RSkBzJ4_g0UtzmnpDca4TUELwUny6KXfUDj9-boCyH0Ba5_PTV1wY98OwGrQeFbQ1lAnWMPKI0QGfj9NgxgJgDTOtLPiCaH7ui8oG8GQg/s200/spatslow.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442959534086718978" /></a><br />Here’s some more gaiters. The low ones are WWII German officer’s spats. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6tmysPicAoaHDYyvu_UscT7QJ3xLv-Rp-VJSEpnczqKqBkhw-kiiZpQOVO7_8nRJiX9hHj7hcWvzm13SzJWJtGaJMG60KNL81FlrJBPFRaDFzEzy_PKaD-NzlM_2gX21Zv19ra_3KW_E/s1600-h/spatshigh6.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6tmysPicAoaHDYyvu_UscT7QJ3xLv-Rp-VJSEpnczqKqBkhw-kiiZpQOVO7_8nRJiX9hHj7hcWvzm13SzJWJtGaJMG60KNL81FlrJBPFRaDFzEzy_PKaD-NzlM_2gX21Zv19ra_3KW_E/s200/spatshigh6.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442959813102695858" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocC4g6OIkRyBXbxTHxesCCPT7yNlunsy2aORqvtmNDLkLQsc-6OJ5ZMzzDCBudqtnztx88WVCirZTBMsWEY4SdZOtKwrYBYRfOjxlXqTvNtn1NFyC78k23XB4N8UIYgeweb99_Rrr2aY/s1600-h/spatshigh3.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjocC4g6OIkRyBXbxTHxesCCPT7yNlunsy2aORqvtmNDLkLQsc-6OJ5ZMzzDCBudqtnztx88WVCirZTBMsWEY4SdZOtKwrYBYRfOjxlXqTvNtn1NFyC78k23XB4N8UIYgeweb99_Rrr2aY/s200/spatshigh3.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442960134793250274" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-56879101755392907712010-02-23T16:21:00.011+01:002010-02-23T16:43:29.698+01:00Fashionably Late III: Hats - a perimeter of privacy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtrcEMq__l9h1l5BtlJZQ6odgnp34NrFrv9XaxCbSwLwgr8fCd86RS2XtJWBRqOZZ7jEcpk5j8tkIMxpOr_VBE-YJ82goKJw3GGGzibC7wLY_3X9PfcuqH55JFgmTM8AeL5Ecsga1pjZQ/s1600-h/hoed2A.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtrcEMq__l9h1l5BtlJZQ6odgnp34NrFrv9XaxCbSwLwgr8fCd86RS2XtJWBRqOZZ7jEcpk5j8tkIMxpOr_VBE-YJ82goKJw3GGGzibC7wLY_3X9PfcuqH55JFgmTM8AeL5Ecsga1pjZQ/s200/hoed2A.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441460013021055474" /></a><br />Clothes are invented to keep us warm. They are also helpful in creating an identity of one’s own. Their main purpose if you ask me however is to create distance, distance between oneself and all the scruffy neo-liberals that crowd the streets. In this respect hats are invaluable. Just one example to illustrate my point: imagine you’re on a crowded tram, where the seats are maliciously placed back to back so that the person sitting behind you’s probably unwashed hair is constantly threatening to touch yours. Well, wear a hat and there’s at least a border, a perimeter of privacy that cannot be so easily penetrated by strangers’ undesired nearness. <br /><br />By the way, the orange hat was made by Liezet, my incredibly skilful and creative mother-in-law (and no, she doesn’t sell her hats). <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdK3fMqxKKNGAW-ZFgbHoaiAhDPFfVQgkdbzyMrpKjUjfMh0hcH2CQQSD-2drsm-MCvyjgPkgXkU_hW7fEiAOpPuGSzR4I3Fr4wzjY6P5wcUvuJtdTHPCGRmXvbx1L9d0Sv-x-hMpFJPM/s1600-h/hoed3B.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 101px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdK3fMqxKKNGAW-ZFgbHoaiAhDPFfVQgkdbzyMrpKjUjfMh0hcH2CQQSD-2drsm-MCvyjgPkgXkU_hW7fEiAOpPuGSzR4I3Fr4wzjY6P5wcUvuJtdTHPCGRmXvbx1L9d0Sv-x-hMpFJPM/s200/hoed3B.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441460249900960962" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK0_IIICvCCswvkboqtO6byZ7HkBQF_uQh4lqRWcAoENWSePjpHnDlr-Ycd4WJm_yOEKKM5WeXHLSRb7w145Ypcxlp7kVT6Fq1bFAzuXqoGxhn_0a-utAQaZHsOAAjG4m2fef6dWhiW7Y/s1600-h/DSC_6835.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK0_IIICvCCswvkboqtO6byZ7HkBQF_uQh4lqRWcAoENWSePjpHnDlr-Ycd4WJm_yOEKKM5WeXHLSRb7w145Ypcxlp7kVT6Fq1bFAzuXqoGxhn_0a-utAQaZHsOAAjG4m2fef6dWhiW7Y/s200/DSC_6835.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441461477059780162" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiADX_NgYML4uUANTs6dZsqH-FMUrmfgVGtSii4auBLK_DvjLp_C3Dd-rIBvtmWSJ4VdfoxaJsqxZRtnHRNaYC0tJETopQKCBOWUnigU7xQJGzSiogNcOtOI0FiujVMAGfbSllBcUQEfI/s1600-h/hoed2B.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiADX_NgYML4uUANTs6dZsqH-FMUrmfgVGtSii4auBLK_DvjLp_C3Dd-rIBvtmWSJ4VdfoxaJsqxZRtnHRNaYC0tJETopQKCBOWUnigU7xQJGzSiogNcOtOI0FiujVMAGfbSllBcUQEfI/s200/hoed2B.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441464075581664802" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtuQP7Qe27EYuHCqAEsWZzXd8DiaCPByBW4Lp938bFsNhO5UStZ-qlJqcNml8oHpkNMx8LgTaHE6X4B_gZ39tGa9j1zE_UcK93uTT92g5KXGMozLo8Lx4LtxLS-R0O1fRe5ravmJPD17I/s1600-h/hoed1A.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtuQP7Qe27EYuHCqAEsWZzXd8DiaCPByBW4Lp938bFsNhO5UStZ-qlJqcNml8oHpkNMx8LgTaHE6X4B_gZ39tGa9j1zE_UcK93uTT92g5KXGMozLo8Lx4LtxLS-R0O1fRe5ravmJPD17I/s200/hoed1A.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441461102311692594" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-42874932068342272892010-02-22T14:00:00.004+01:002010-02-22T14:10:37.870+01:00Red is for RevolutionA couple of days ago I saw Yoshida Kiju’s ‘Coup d’état’. In this monumental film Yoshida considers the revolutionary path of Kita Ikki, a Japanese Sutra reciting rightist who wrote a conservative-revolutionary book that had quite some influence and who became entangled in a military coup in the thirties. It failed and he died – executed. In one scene Kita Ikki explains to his young son that the true revolutionary is not the one who plans revolutions but the one who endures them. <br /><br />I love Antwerp. I nearly bought a wonderful house there once but it wasn’t meant to be. Anyway, I was in Antwerp recently and I decided to visit the Fashion Museum. The museum currently runs an exhibition on Delvaux, Belgian manufacturers of handbags since 1829. After some initial confusion - the public at the exhibition was just about as old as the house Delvaux itself and I feared that I had mistakenly entered some luxury geriatric ward – I climbed the impressive wooden staircase and entered a room …filled with bags and old people. A glimpse at the info brochure taught me that ‘the creative process behind each bag has remained practically unchanged over the past sixty years’. A quick look at ‘the timeline’ seemed to corroborate that: row upon row of basically the same bag adorned the wall with the minute changes that did occur over time neatly pointed out to the viewer (just in case they might miss them).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0og6BsMX8aUcFR2Ua0qIODIEbBdKGTtHsF7ZCBIEt_nUe-pctD-2MhhukEiA_jO_6-mtSk2OYJ89AwGJGv89lCE7wzS2OskCMw46RGj-VOEEeQp6vBJoCS5vVbWg9yCeAW63ZwhfjQg/s1600-h/Delvaux+Hall.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO0og6BsMX8aUcFR2Ua0qIODIEbBdKGTtHsF7ZCBIEt_nUe-pctD-2MhhukEiA_jO_6-mtSk2OYJ89AwGJGv89lCE7wzS2OskCMw46RGj-VOEEeQp6vBJoCS5vVbWg9yCeAW63ZwhfjQg/s200/Delvaux+Hall.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441053212808218322" /></a><br />Delvaux has from the beginning been closely linked to the Belgian monarchy (they precede it by only one year). By the end of the nineteenth century Delvaux had made it to ‘Gebrevetteerde Hofleverancier’, which basically meant that they could deliver to the Belgian army. After the Second World War Delvaux incorporated the Belgian crown into its corporate logo and it designed the so called ‘Mon Grand Bonheur’ bag as a wedding gift for queen Paola. Its sustained loyalty to the crown was demonstrated in the ‘L’union fait la force – Eendracht maakt macht’ bag. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQEUjF6TIezUQlXLJJg7upOYxLddWe2LdbIemgHDO7AZ_5seoGbWQj3NZIG0DLZc8mcESUZjpv6JMh7h4RMscLzlUg5vgBGzKY_t45qS7sgi2kY9JgAF6yCBW0hIQz56KhKl3YcuES3k/s1600-h/Delvaux+Union.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPQEUjF6TIezUQlXLJJg7upOYxLddWe2LdbIemgHDO7AZ_5seoGbWQj3NZIG0DLZc8mcESUZjpv6JMh7h4RMscLzlUg5vgBGzKY_t45qS7sgi2kY9JgAF6yCBW0hIQz56KhKl3YcuES3k/s200/Delvaux+Union.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441053558812852370" /></a><br />In 1933 the house was taken over by Franz Schennicke, who had previously been a colonial entrepreneur in Belgian Congo. At the world expo in Brussels in ’58 Belgium was keen to show off its colonial assets. Delvaux supplied the hostesses’ bags. Delvaux prides itself on the fact that it provides luxury handmade goods. In the future these goods will remain handmade, but they will be manufactured in Indochine, o pardon Vietnam - colonial heritage dies hard. Well, at least they stay true to their roots. <br /><br />In a little recess off the main exhibition room I found the curator’s homage to the expansion of Delvaux territory into France. Around 1989 Delvaux opened its first shop in Paris. Apparently the curators of the exhibition thought it would be an original idea to pile up a load of red handbags (the brochure teaches us that red has been since the beginning one of the main colours of the Delvaux palette and had been especially prominent in the eighties) next to the words ‘Egalité, Liberté, Fraternité’ spelled out in blood red letters. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklHmuMZZ0bJZLtflINDkMwOFWPROw5hh1nwgCn19t9gwdSd-ehyThx6W1j_3cQemCwfr_KIJzCs4QE__EumHlC4_-mErYO1wQkAQP1xnhhJau28CWAjfFctqzACW-lvCC3LHm7vIICKc/s1600-h/Delvaux+Red.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgklHmuMZZ0bJZLtflINDkMwOFWPROw5hh1nwgCn19t9gwdSd-ehyThx6W1j_3cQemCwfr_KIJzCs4QE__EumHlC4_-mErYO1wQkAQP1xnhhJau28CWAjfFctqzACW-lvCC3LHm7vIICKc/s200/Delvaux+Red.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441053995616666722" /></a><br />In France you can sell bags by linking them to the revolution that was sealed with blood. In Belgium glamour is added to luxury goods by connecting them to a monarchy that has earned a fortune by bleeding out a colony. Well, as long as it sells, right? As Kita Ikki taught us: it’s not those who plan the revolution that are the true revolutionaries but those who endure it. Any revolution. For 180 years by now.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-21725839258014698822010-02-10T10:19:00.007+01:002010-02-10T10:35:46.340+01:00Fashionably Late II: Loose Collars & Ruffs<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPV42YC6hTih4OHS2KDfdsYRxPYq5csYUYl3iAV8pWiE7ZHvVAL-kvXR0hV1l7JAaDkMXsSg_P_JY6Tg-zFx3-2fgVHLkMBNOnJf02E1XOIj8nfBOw4b2DRln3dpVRsv3xwFvYBVuMv6k/s1600-h/collar+girl.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 202px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPV42YC6hTih4OHS2KDfdsYRxPYq5csYUYl3iAV8pWiE7ZHvVAL-kvXR0hV1l7JAaDkMXsSg_P_JY6Tg-zFx3-2fgVHLkMBNOnJf02E1XOIj8nfBOw4b2DRln3dpVRsv3xwFvYBVuMv6k/s320/collar+girl.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436545216999881666" /></a><br />Like so many people I enjoy daydreaming, musing over old photographs per example. One thing that gets my reveries going is collars, ruffs, that sort of thing. But they’re not so easily found nowadays. I add these two gorgeous examples of looks that I would really like to copy, or at least the ‘feel’ of them. The first is an anonymous German girl and the second is actress Anna Held. Maybe I’ll post some pictures later on of my own feeble attempts in this direction.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/113/256531888_7c9d999de8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 342px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/113/256531888_7c9d999de8.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-9154357270248213212010-02-07T22:29:00.002+01:002010-02-07T22:39:00.145+01:00It’s ok to watch Gossip Girl ANY TIMEAnd not just because <a href="http://www.vanityfair.com/online/culture/2009/06/11/kim-gordon.html">Kim Gordon</a> rules. When asked what music he likes a friend of mine thought long and hard before he came up with this answer: “anything, as long as it’s popular”. I would like to take the liberty of adopting his insightful wisdom as a category on my blog. <br /><br />In Shakespeare’s times ‘gossip’ still had two meanings. In the older sense, which is largely forgotten nowadays, gossip referred to the godparent as the idea that God was watching over his God-sibling. Fairytales often employ the idea of a good godmother watching over someone from a distance without being directly present. In Shakespeare’s plays the scenes are acted out under the eye of an all-seeing God. Yet the denotation of gossip as chatter had by then also already entered the vocabulary. In Gossip Girl these two meanings of gossip are at work: everything takes place under the panoptic eye of the eponymous yet anonymous Gossip Girl who operates like a divide-and-conquering deus ex machina. <br /><br />Thurston Moore revealed in an interview with <a href="http://www.rollingstone.com/rockdaily/index.php/2009/09/03/sonic-youth-report-in-from-the-set-of-gossip-girl/">Rolling Stone</a>: “Kim [Gordon] and I are pretty fanatical viewers of the show. It's sort of our dose of Shakespeare every week.” That’s an interesting thought: Gossip Girl and Shakespearean drama ultimately share the same grand gestures. Gossip Girl’s thespian scenes and intense feelings are perfectly in pair with Shakespeare’s verses – Thurston Moore verily is a keen observer – but the doses are meticulously measured out to fit the maximum 160 characters of Gossip Girl’s text messages. <br /><br />It’s really not that surprising that Sonic Youth are praising Gossip Girl. The signs are there: isn’t the very name of the show Gossip Girl in a way an uncanny follow-up of the band name Sonic Youth? Sonic Youth’s massive wall of sound is superseded by GG’s buzzing network of mischievous text messages: GG’s youth, populating the corridors of an exclusive Manhattan high school and nowadays the dorms of New York University, is led by a humming queen bee who won’t touch anything as vulgar as let’s say a <a href="http://www.fender.com/sonicyouth/">signature Fender Jazz Master</a>. <br /><br />There is a certain ring to living your life to the rhythm of text messages that trigger action sequences. And this is where <a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/5135WHFSW1L._SL500_AA280_.jpg">Martin Heidegger</a>’s <span style="font-style:italic;">Being and Time</span> (<span style="font-style:italic;">Sein und Zeit</span>, 1927) comes in. Heidegger know-alls and devotees will be quick to point out that idle talk (<span style="font-style:italic;">das Gerede</span>) should not be confused with gossip and scribbling – which is true, but that is quite besides the point here. <br /><br />Gossip is anonymous, multitudinous even. Not only is it always the other who gossips (as in: ‘Georgina said that Blair said that Serena…’), it is always ‘they’ who gossip (it is not Georgina, Blair, or Serena in particular or all of them together, but an indeterminate multitude of voices, whispering away at each other). Heidegger catches the implications of this vividly with his concept of ‘they’ (<span style="font-style:italic;">das Man</span>), as opposed to the authenticity of Da-sein, the singular being. The existential determination of Da-sein only becomes apparent in its ‘falling prey’ to idle talk, and idle talk ‘discloses to Da-sein a being toward its world, to others and to itself – a being in which these are understood, but in a mode of groundless floating.’ (165) The point is that Heidegger is well aware of the common desire to put a face or a name to gossip or idle talk (think of Serena’s obsession to find out who GG is). Gossip has no author, yet this unquenchable desire to search for the author of the gossip persists even though this author remains elusive because there simply is no author. Heidegger brilliantly appreciates this. It gives him the opportunity to counter the groundless anonymity of idle talk with the groundless authenticity of Da-sein: Da-sein as authenticity is an identifiable author (authen-ticity implies an auth-or). The alluring aspect of authenticity exists merely by the grace of the inauthentic, i.e. the desire for authorship that necessarily remains unfulfilled in idle talk. Yet Da-sein yearns to uncover an authorship of this idle talk which remains hidden. This unappeasable desire can only be filled by turning to the authentic that ultimately can only be found in the self, in Da-sein. Heidegger strategically uses the dialectic between the no-one of the they and the desire for authorship. And so does GG.<br /><br />The exciting thing about GG is that it reunites the two meanings of the word gossip: on the one hand we have the common meaning of gossip as idle talk and chatter, which of old has been the stuff that soap opera’s are made of, but on the other hand we have the god-like idea of the all-seeing gossip watching over us. Even though the “gossip-like humor” (Shakespeare, <span style="font-style:italic;">Much Ado About Nothing</span>) of GG with it’s outrageously over-the-top characters and story-lines is deliciously fetishable and utterly commodified (tabloids such as News of the World, National Enquirer, and Daily Mirror have worked hard to make it so), the gossip operating behind the scenes of GG is a mixture of all those notions we have come to hate and love all at once: implied author, agent provocateur, deus ex machina, ... Plus the GG characters dress impeccably!!<br /><br />So I say: “peace, you mumbling fool! / Utter your gravity o’er a gossip’s bowl, / for here we need it not!” (Shakespeare, <span style="font-style:italic;">Romeo and Juliet</span>.) <br /><br />XOXO, Mirror Metaphysics.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-9434364058184733082010-02-06T15:36:00.003+01:002010-02-06T15:42:37.808+01:00Fashionably Late I: Spats gaiters puttees jambières Gamaschen getten…<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB5uLRm2Voi9c-TR3xGzcmjB_h7QzrUOdnAewxlVGcE6tC9dmTFjCxYbvsx3cLJ4QuGnV3_gasnJgUC2QdGybchp7zfql3c_rzW4Htz8stNDdphKkMeKko6uaw_FgPJIrRi3bRC6sKvkw/s1600-h/Loden+%26+Gaiters.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 113px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB5uLRm2Voi9c-TR3xGzcmjB_h7QzrUOdnAewxlVGcE6tC9dmTFjCxYbvsx3cLJ4QuGnV3_gasnJgUC2QdGybchp7zfql3c_rzW4Htz8stNDdphKkMeKko6uaw_FgPJIrRi3bRC6sKvkw/s320/Loden+%26+Gaiters.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435140209835920114" /></a><br />Those who know me can testify to my love of the First World War. I can call myself the proud owner of a customized bomb shell (Canadian, 1917), a birthday present from my brother who is a collector of World Wars I & II paraphernalia. Uniforms however, are my true weakness. It probably has something to do with my upbringing but I simply cannot resist the rigidity and the often tight cut of uniforms, and of course the long lost world of childhood memories that they evoke to me (the smell of my father retuning from manoeuvres, the cast iron Saint Barbara in the officers’ mess, those rock hard yet delicious standard army issue biscuits, ….). One specific part of uniforms that fascinates me concerns leg- and footwear. Soldiers during the First World War often wore some sort of protection for their legs, be it boots, gaiters or puttees. For some very cool examples, check out <a href="http://www.diggerhistory.info/pages-uniforms/leg-foot-wear.htm">this webpage</a>. A couple of years ago I bought a pair of gaiters by Belgian designer Kaat Tilley that are clearly inspired by the army versions, yet they are also imbued with a very feminine touch.<br /> <br />By the way, gaiters combine very well with a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loden_cape">Loden cape</a>, another good candidate for my ‘Fashionably Late’ category.<br /><br />I will definitely be revisiting this topic!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-50753812137767553962010-02-06T12:26:00.000+01:002010-02-06T12:27:34.379+01:00Fashionably LateI’ m thinking about posting regularly about clothing items and ways of presenting oneself that somehow have gone out of fashion or are not seen regularly on the streets anymore, but that ought to be rehabilitated – at least to my mind. I crave for more elegance and attention to detail, greater care and precision, and a healthy sense of the … untouchable, without however taking uncritical refuge in the past.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-82520818114764180142010-02-03T11:01:00.001+01:002010-02-03T11:01:37.250+01:00Evocative philosophy, or a hint for representationIt must be an occupational hazard: being a ‘professional philosopher’ (I admit it does sound sort of peculiar if not downright ridiculous) I tend to read a philosophical inspiration into a lot of things. Into almost everything really, but especially into artistic expressions. <br /><br />Into modern dance for example. Nowadays one very often encounters the point of view that one really should not look at creative acts through the lens of philosophy, since artistic creations have their own image-language and one should not indulge in too much philosophical hineinlesen. That’s fair enough. However I do wonder whether this critical stance is entirely appropriate or even tenable as more and more art-makers themselves have started using philosophical concepts in relation to their works. Sometimes this makes sense to a trained philosopher and sometimes it doesn’t. Yet it is not all surprising that art-makers turn to philosophy. Haven’t philosophers been turning to art from times immemorial?<br /><br />This is why I wasn’t surprised when I did a little preliminary research about the dance performance I/II/III/IIII by Belgian choreographer Kris Verdonck that I enjoyed watching a couple days ago. The hermeneutic machinery surrounding this type of art told me that this performance ‘plays with the concept of repetition by Gilles Deleuze’, deals with ‘the uncanny by Freud’, but also that it relates to Kleist, the Golem and Frankenstein, that it evokes images from Dadaist marionettes to fallen angels, and that it is indebted to the classic number theory of the ancient Greek philosophers – among other references. <br /><br />So what was this performance about? What did we see? As the name of the performance indicates we first saw one, then two, then three and finally four female dancers, barefoot and dressed in short but demure little black dresses, suspended from hooks attached to a mechanical device that flew them all over the stage. A strong spotlight artfully followed their every move so that we got to witness both their bodies and the shadows they produced. These shadows sometimes blended into strange shapes and seemed to create an imagery of their own. Interestingly enough there was no direct interaction between the dancers. The only interaction took place on the level of the shadows (this became obvious when during the duet one of the dancers was checking whether her position had the desired effect on her shadow that was supposed to form some kind of heartlike shape). Between each piece there was an interval: the dancers had to re-attach themselves to the machine as an extra dancer was added to it. During these little breaks the stage was dark and the audience lit so that we wouldn’t be part of the ‘technical practicalities’. (Naturally people started talking and visiting the lavatory.) The music consisted of - oh gentle shock of mild surprise – one tone for the single dancer, two for the duet and so on. Each time it started off with a ‘pure’ sound which then became more and ‘machinated’ into the standard beeps and rustles of a computerlike machine. <br /> <br />How can one say something about this performance without reverting to theoretical constructs, especially when the makers do it themselves? The art-creators themselves, like a lot of the art-critics surrounding them, fall back on philosophical concepts to elucidate their work. Although sometimes these theoretical embeddings seem to be aimed at producing a coherent framework for viewing a performance, their true function lies elsewhere, I would venture to argue. Ultimately philosophy here isn’t a sort of clarifying device; it rather serves to evocate something, an image to associate with the work of art, a hint for representation. One could say that philosophy here doesn’t leave the realm of association and comparison, but that is beside the point: philosophy doesn’t explain (it doesn’t need to), instead it evocates. Philosophy here evocates images and concepts and in doing so it becomes part of the work of art. By conjuring up philosophically inspired images to go hand in hand with their art, artists turn concepts into images. Philosophers have turned images into concepts, reading art as an illustration for their theories, for a very long time. Do artists now read philosophy as images, as evocations to bolster up their art? Are they beating us at our own game?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5087698057171318559.post-21473123851812845702010-02-03T11:00:00.001+01:002010-02-03T11:00:52.495+01:00'Mission' statementHaha! Hello and welcome to my blog! This blog will – roughly - cover my three main interests: fashion, food & philosophy. A little of one and a lot of the others makes for good living!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0