Archived entries for

Theo Angelopoulos I: La eternidad y un día (autobús)

Spatial Poems by Shiomi Mieko

Spatial Poem No. 1

“Starting in 1965, Shiomi Mieko conducted a series of nine events that she called Spatial Poems. Each one began with an invitation to a large number of friends and colleagues to respond to a simple instruction, which often took the form of an intimate action poem that anyone could perform. The responses she received in the mail would then constitute the work. In 1975, Shiomi published a booklet documenting the nine Spatial Poems and including a collection of responses to each of these works. The accumulated responses give a glimpse of the wide network of artists who were connected through Fluxus activities, from those engaged in the eclectic arts and letters scene in New York City’s downtown to artists located in Tokyo, Łódź, Montevideo, and New Delhi.”

via Spatial Poems by Shiomi Mieko & Kayla Anderson



Monster soup commonly called Thames water, William Heath (1828)

Monster soup commonly called Thames Water


Marc-Antoine Mathieu #20150315


Today abstraction is no longer that of the map, the double, the mirror, or the concept. Simulation is no longer that of a territory, a referential being, or a substance. It is the generation by models of a real without origin or reality: a hyperreal.

If once we were able to view the Borges fable in which the cartographers of the Empire draw up a map so detailed that it ends up covering the territory exactly (the decline of the Empire witnesses the fraying of this map, little by little, and its fall into ruins, though some shreds are still discernible in the deserts – the metaphysical beauty of this ruined abstraction testifying to a pride equal to the Empire and rotting like a carcass, returning to the substance of the soil, a bit as the double ends by being confused with the real through aging) – as the most beautiful allegory of simulation, this fable has now come full circle for us, and possesses nothing but the discrete charm of second-order simulacra. Today abstraction is no longer that of the map, the double, the mirror, or the concept. Simulation is no longer that of a territory, a referential being, or a substance. It is the generation by models of a real without origin or reality: a hyperreal. The territory no longer precedes the map, nor does it survive it. It is nevertheless the map that precedes the territory – precession of simulacra – that engenders the territory, and if one must return to the fable, today it is the territory whose shreds slowly rot across the extent of the map. It is the real, and not the map, whose vestiges persist here and there in the deserts that are no longer those of the Empire, but ours. The desert of the real itself. In fact, even inverted, Borges’s fable is unusable. Only the allegory of the Empire, perhaps, remains. Because it is with this same imperialism that present-day simulators attempt to make the real, all of the real, coincide with their models of simulation. But it is no longer a question of either maps or territories. Something has disappeared: the sovereign difference, between one and the other, that constituted the charm of abstraction. Because it is difference that constitutes the poetry of the map and the charm of the territory, the magic of the concept and the charm of the real. This imaginary of representation, which simultaneously culminates in and is engulfed by the cartographers mad project of the ideal coextensivity of map and territory, disappears in the simulation whose operation is nuclear and genetic, no longer at all specular or discursive. It is all of metaphysics that is lost. No more mirror of being and appearances, of the real and its concept. No more imaginary coextensivity: it is genetic miniaturization that is the dimension of simulation. The real is produced from miniaturized cells, matrices, and memory banks, models of control – and it can be reproduced an indefinite number of times from these. It no longer needs to be rational, because it no longer measures itself against either an ideal or negative instance. It is no longer anything but operational. In fact, it is no longer really the real, because no imaginary envelops it anymore. It is a hyperreal, produced from a radiating synthesis of combinatory models in a hyperspace without atmosphere.

via Jean Baudrillard – Simulacra and Simulations – I. The Precession of Simulacra, translated by Sheila Faria Glaser.

“Il est nécessaire de choisir : monde ou situation, puisque ce sont deux réalités qui s’excluent mutuellement, de la même façon que s’excluent l’individu et le sujet politique.”

Il est nécessaire de choisir : monde ou situation, puisque ce sont deux réalités qui s’excluent mutuellement, de la même façon que s’excluent l’individu et le sujet politique. Ceci signifie-t-il que nous reconnaissions l’impuissance de l’action restreinte, situationnelle, face au monde ? Bien au contraire, c’est le " monde " qui réduit toute action politique à l’impuissance puisqu’elle la soustrait d’une situation concrète. Ce qui signifie que la préoccupation médiatique pour le monde non seulement nous met en position d’impuissance face à son spectacle, mais nous anesthésie et nous empêche d’agir là où, effectivement, on peut le faire : dans notre situation. Ainsi, l’action restreinte s’oppose à toute velléité de pouvoir, à tout messianisme omnipotent qui depuis une position quasi-délirante regarde le monde comme il est et décrète comme il devrait être. Si l’action restreinte est une praxis dans et pour la situation cela est dû à ce que sa délimitation et ses termes ne sont pas des données fournies par les médias. Ce que l’on présente comme situation doit être à la fois le fruit d’une recherche, d’une pensée et d’une praxis à partir de laquelle nous pouvons dire : si telle est la structure de la situation en question, tel sera alors notre pari. Dans un tel cas, même l’erreur fera partie d’un moment dans la reconstruction d’une praxis libertaire. A cet égard, il est nécessaire d’être concret : le " monde " comme une totalité de faits est une illusion médiatique, la seule chose qui existe étant la multiplicité des situations. Chacune d’elles nous renvoie ainsi à un problème, à un universel concret qui se distingue radicalement du " monde " comme totalité abstraite.

Manifeste du Collectif Malgré Tout (1995).

David Gissen and a new aestheto-cartographic narrative for architecture

“Architecture’s Geographic Turns,” which was great fun to write, ends with a proposition: What if architects stopped turning to geography as a source from which to interpret the world empirically, and instead projected concepts of architectural thought into cartographic worlds? In other words, what if they rewired the historical relation between these fields and architecture entered a new aestheto-cartographic narrative…

via David Gissen / HTC Experiments.


“Ninety-two is the atomic number of uranium, and Tulse Luper Suitcases aims at nothing more or less ambitious than a history of the twentieth century as the “uranium century”. It is also a number that Greenaway has constantly associated with Luper: it is the number of maps in A Walk Through H , which can also be found in Luper’s book Some Migratory Birds of the Northern Hemisphere , and it recurs throughout The Falls , firstly as its basic structural unit in terms of the number of biographies of the characters affected by the Violent Unknown Event (VUE) and then within the film itself. The counting system of ninety-two elements originates in Greenaway’s miscounting of the ninety parts of John Cage’s Indeterminacy Narrative . Greenaway’s work has always been preoccupied with such systems of classification: “If his work is tirelessly systems-based, his systems – his games, lists, alphabets, countings, variously simple, intricate, playful, philosophical, comic – are above all ironic, self-referential, never in conflict with the surplus of material available for classification, a surplus which they display as much as they discipline” (Woods 22).”

Tulse Luper Database: Peter Greenaway, the New Media Object and the Art of Exhaustion by Benjamin Noys.

Man in a Suitcase: Tulse Luper, Duchamp’s Boîte-en-valise, Benjamin’s suitcase and heterotopias

“As a symbol, then, the suitcase is double-edged, ambivalent in the extreme: on the one hand, it evokes travel, displacement, emigration, exile and transience; on the other, it is that part of home that travels with us, a reminder of belonging and stability, the world of things we collect around us, the promise of continuity in the midst of change, of order restored. The suitcase is a portable heterotopia, an ‘other space’ that is always there and here at the same time, a home away from home, but also offering the endless possibility of new departures, whether desired or forced. At Compton Verney, the suitcase has lost its traditional use value as a transporter of a selection of items – the tourist’s range of clothes, the travelling salesman’s range of wares – to take on other functions. By virtue of its plurality, it has become collective, is no longer the container of individual dreams or necessities, but an element in a collection that, as a whole, represents the century.”

Man in a Suitcase: Tulse Luper at Compton Verney by Bridget Elliott and Anthony Purdy.

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