1. (via “Firmly Mid-Career”: Yoshiko Chuma in conversation with Penny Arcade « Critical Correspondence)

Penny Arcade and Yoshiko Chuma discuss Chuma’s new work Love Story, Palestine, which will be at La Mama May 9-12, 2012. Arcade and Chuma discuss Chuma’s yearlong documentation process in Palestine, the sensation of border crossing and wanting to “stay.”

…
Over one year I documented all the time [in Palestine]—document of the conversation, document of the landscape, document of the action, and document of the dance. I am very scared that my document is my experience—but that is not going to be completely the definition of Palestine. On one hand, for people all over the world, daily life is not that different. I would like to present Love Story, Palestine as: they are not much different than we are. I am kind of chasing a cliché of the cultures, which we are passing through always. Yes, I come from Japan. Sometimes people say really simply, “Oh you are Japanese, you are a feminist, a woman, strong, you could not live there so you had to move here.” No, I’m not in that category at all. People sometimes put labels.
… I think Love Story, Palestine is really challenging [this]—I want to say something about the situation in Palestine in the present. I don’t think my performance Love Story, Palestine is going to change [that].

… Physically and mentally I was so curious about being relocated. In 2006, the first time I went to Amman, I knew the name because in the Iraq War you hear the name a lot: “News came from Amman…” I was walking in Amman and thought, I’m in Amman. Since then I am very intrigued in the challenge to locate my life in Amman and Ramallah. 

… Cunningham dying very much influenced me. And also that time of 2012—Bill Rice died, Tom Murrin died. I lost a lot, my mother, all my family is gone now. Before I had lots of chances to see people and I didn’t think about if I would be able to see them. And that is going to twist my brain… then I start connecting. I have maybe 100 friends in Ramallah. Every one has so many stories. And each of those stories I really want to listen to. I don’t need to say my story. In Palestine they are talking about: number one, about the family; number two, about the family; number three about…

Penny: The family.

Yoshiko: Because they have less chance to be together. That is such a beautiful human emotion. These kinds of very sensitive one-to-the-other human relations—if I think back in my work, I have never felt this much. And, you know… I love Palestine.

    (via “Firmly Mid-Career”: Yoshiko Chuma in conversation with Penny Arcade « Critical Correspondence)

    Penny Arcade and Yoshiko Chuma discuss Chuma’s new work Love Story, Palestine, which will be at La Mama May 9-12, 2012. Arcade and Chuma discuss Chuma’s yearlong documentation process in Palestine, the sensation of border crossing and wanting to “stay.”


    Over one year I documented all the time [in Palestine]—document of the conversation, document of the landscape, document of the action, and document of the dance. I am very scared that my document is my experience—but that is not going to be completely the definition of Palestine. On one hand, for people all over the world, daily life is not that different. I would like to present Love Story, Palestine as: they are not much different than we are. I am kind of chasing a cliché of the cultures, which we are passing through always. Yes, I come from Japan. Sometimes people say really simply, “Oh you are Japanese, you are a feminist, a woman, strong, you could not live there so you had to move here.” No, I’m not in that category at all. People sometimes put labels.
    … I think Love Story, Palestine is really challenging [this]—I want to say something about the situation in Palestine in the present. I don’t think my performance Love Story, Palestine is going to change [that].

    … Physically and mentally I was so curious about being relocated. In 2006, the first time I went to Amman, I knew the name because in the Iraq War you hear the name a lot: “News came from Amman…” I was walking in Amman and thought, I’m in Amman. Since then I am very intrigued in the challenge to locate my life in Amman and Ramallah.

    … Cunningham dying very much influenced me. And also that time of 2012—Bill Rice died, Tom Murrin died. I lost a lot, my mother, all my family is gone now. Before I had lots of chances to see people and I didn’t think about if I would be able to see them. And that is going to twist my brain… then I start connecting. I have maybe 100 friends in Ramallah. Every one has so many stories. And each of those stories I really want to listen to. I don’t need to say my story. In Palestine they are talking about: number one, about the family; number two, about the family; number three about…

    Penny: The family.

    Yoshiko: Because they have less chance to be together. That is such a beautiful human emotion. These kinds of very sensitive one-to-the-other human relations—if I think back in my work, I have never felt this much. And, you know… I love Palestine.

  2. To devastate conventional, standard canonical, representation. Because the poem is the moment of a listening. And the sign is only given to sight. It is deaf and it deafens. Only the poem can voice us, move us from voice to voice, make a listening of us, give us all language as listening. And the continuity of this listening includes, imposes a continuity among the subjects that we are, the language that we’re becoming and the active ethic that is this listening, from which a politics comes. A politics of thinking. The Rhythm Party.
    Henri Meschonnic, “A Rhythm Party Manifesto” (trans by Avra Spector & Lisa Robertson)
    Reblogged from: martin-cj
  3. Judith Butler: As a Jew, I was taught it was ethically imperative to speak up (Part II) - News Israel News | Haaretz

    I think that the BDS movement has taken several forms, and it is probably important to distinguish among them. I would say that around six or seven years ago, there was a real confusion about what was being boycotted, what goes under the name of “boycott.” There were some initiatives that seemed to be directed against Israeli academics, or Israeli filmmakers, cultural producers, or artists that did not distinguish between their citizenship and their participation, active or passive, in occupation politics. We must keep in mind that the BDS movement has always been focused on the occupation. It is not a referendum on Zionism, and it does not take an explicit position on the one-state or two-state solution. And then there were those who sought to distinguish boycotting individual Israelis from boycotting the Israeli institutions. But it is not always easy to know how to make the distinction between who is an individual and who is an institution. And I think a lot of people within the U.S. and Europe just backed away, thinking that it was potentially discriminatory to boycott individuals or, indeed, institutions on the basis of citizenship, even though many of those who were reluctant very much wanted to find a way to support a non-violent resistance to the occupation.

    But now I feel that it has become more possible, more urgent to reconsider the politics of the BDS. It is not that the principles of the BDS have changed: they have not. But there are now ways to think about implementing the BDS that keep in mind the central focus: any event, practice, or institution that seeks to normalize the occupation, or presupposes that “ordinary” cultural life can continue without an explicit opposition to the occupation is itself complicit with the occupation.

    We can think of this as passive complicity, if you like. But the main point is to challenge those institutions that seek to separate the occupation from other cultural activities. The idea is that we cannot participate in cultural institutions that act as if there is no occupation or that refuse to take a clear and strong stand against the occupation and dedicate their activities to its undoingSo, with this in mind, we can ask, what does it mean to engage in boycott? It means that, for those of us on the outside, we can only go to an Israeli institution, or an Israeli cultural event, in order to use the occasion to call attention to the brutality and injustice of the occupation and to articulate an opposition to it.

    I think that’s what Naomi Klein did, and I think it actually opened up another route for interpreting the BDS principles. It is no longer possible for me to come to Tel Aviv and talk about gender, Jewish philosophy, or Foucault, as interesting as that might be for me; it is certainly not possible to take money from an organization or university or a cultural organization that is not explicitly and actively anti-occupation, acting as if the cultural event within Israeli borders was not happening against the background of occupation? Against the background of the assault on, and continuing siege of, Gaza? It is this unspoken and violent background of “ordinary” cultural life that needs to become the explicit object of cultural and political production and criticism. Historically, I see no other choice, since affirming the status quo means affirming the occupation. One cannot “set aside” the radical impoverishment, the malnutrition, the limits on mobility, the intimidation and harassment at the borders, and the exercise of state violence in both Gaza and the West Bank and talk about other matters in public? If one were to talk about other matters, then one is actively engaged in producing a limited public sphere of discourse which has the repression and, hence, continuation of violence as its aim.

    Let us remember that the politics of boycott are not just matters of “conscience” for left intellectuals within Israel or outside. The point of the boycott is to produce and enact an international consensus that calls for the state of Israel to comply with international law. The point is to insist on the rights of self-determination for Palestinians, to end the occupation and colonization of Arab lands, to dismantle the Wall that continues the illegal seizure of Palestinian land, and to honor several UN resolutions that have been consistently defied by the Israeli state, including UN resolution 194, which insists upon the rights of refugees from 1948.

    So, an approach to the cultural boycott in particular would have to be one that opposes the normalization of the occupation in order to bring into public discourse the basic principles of injustice at stake. There are many ways to articulate those principles, and this is where intellectuals are doubtless under a political obligation to become innovative, to use the cultural means at our disposal to make whatever interventions we can.

    The point is not simply to refuse contact and forms of cultural and monetary exchange - although sometimes these are most important - but rather, affirmatively, to lend one’s support to the strongest anti-violent movement against the occupation that not only affirms international law, but establishing exchanges with Palestinian cultural and academic workers, cultivating international consensus on the rights of the Palestinian people, but also altering that hegemonic presumption within the global media that any critique of Israel is implicitly anti-democratic or anti-Semitic.

    Surely it has always been the best part of the Jewish intellectual tradition to insist upon the ethical relation to the non-Jew, the extension of equality and justice, and the refusal to keep silent in the face of egregrious wrongs.

  4. Judith Butler: As a Jew, I was taught it was ethically imperative to speak upIsrael News - Haaretz Israeli News source

    The Israeli government and the media started to say that everyone who was killed or injured in Gaza was a member of Hamas; or that they were all being used as part of the war effort; that even the children were instruments of the war effort; that the Palestinians put them out there, in the targets, to show that Israelis would kill children, and this was actually part of a war effort. At this point, every single living being who is Palestinian becomes a war instrument. They are all, in their being, or by virtue of being Palestinian, declaring war on Israel or seeking the destruction of the Israel.

    So any and all Palestinian lives that are killed or injured are understood no longer to be lives, no longer understood to be living, no longer understood even to be human in a recognizable sense, but they are artillery. The bodies themselves are artillery. And of course, the extreme instance of that is the suicide bomber, who has become unpopular in recent years. That is the instance in which a body becomes artillery, or becomes part of a violent act. If that figure gets extended to the entire Palestinian population, then there is no living human population anymore, and no one who is killed there can be grieved. Because everyone who is a living Palestinian is, in their being, a declaration of war, or a threat to the existence of Israel, or pure military artillery, materiel. They have been transformed, in the Israeli war imaginary, into pure war instruments.

    So when a people who believes that another people is out to destroy them sees all the means of destruction killed, or some extraordinary number of the means of destruction destroyed, they are thrilled, because they think their safety and well-being and happiness are being purchased, are being achieved through this destruction.

  5. What is s=C=a=L=e (writing over capital) | Jacket2, Tyrone Williams on CJ Martin

    martin-cj:

    eyelashleye:

    "One of Martin’s most frequent abbreviations is ‘b/w” or just ‘w-.” For me, it registers at several levels: texting (communication), black & white (telecommunication), and between (the lacuna before or after a message has been sent or received). This lag effect as the very form of received history glosses Martin’s publication methods. Everything “inside” the book and chapbooks is meant to drag its feet against the pull of the next ‘book’ …"

    So grateful to Tyrone Williams for his attention to my work. If you haven’t checked out his reviews marathon at Jacket2 you definitely should…

    Reblogged from: martin-cj
  6. THE END OF THE U.S.A.
    ——————————————
    ALL YOU RICH FUCKERS SEE
    THE BEGINNING OF THE END AND
    TAKE WHAT YOU CAN WHILE
    YOU CAN. YOU IMAGINE THAT
    YOU WILL GET AWAY, BUT
    YOU’VE SHIT IN YOUR OWN
    BED AND YOU’RE THE ONE TO
    SLEEP IN IT. WHY SHOULD
    EVERYONE ELSE STAY BEHIND
    AND SMELL YOUR STINKING
    COWARDICE? HERE’S A MESSAGE
    TO YOU—SPACE TRAVEL IS
    UNCERTAIN AND ANY REFUGE
    OF YOURS CAN BE BLOWN
    OFF THE MAP. THERE’S NO
    OTHER PLACE FOR YOU TO GO.
    KNOW THAT YOUR FUTURE IS
    WITH US SO DON’T GIVE US
    MORE REASONS TO HATE YOU.
    Jenny Holzer, Inflammatory Essays (via communalperversion)
    Reblogged from: lazz
  7. venusbone:

elanormcinerney:

Alice Notley | The Descent of Alette
“rather than trying to integrate the ‘I’, if you could disintegrate it and find a more comfortable way of being”
“cause now I know I’m no one. And there’s a lot to say…”

But also this: "I stand with this, and with the urgency that saying I creates, a facing up to sheer presence, death and responsibility, the potential for blowing away all the gauze"
    Reblogged from: venusbone
  8. cassandragillig:

Hannah Weiner, Scott Burton, Anne Waldman, Vito Acconi, Berndette Mayer, Eduardo Costa, John Perreault AKA, like, the Wu-Tang Clan of experimental art

    cassandragillig:

    Hannah Weiner, Scott Burton, Anne Waldman, Vito Acconi, Berndette Mayer, Eduardo Costa, John Perreault AKA, like, the Wu-Tang Clan of experimental art

    Reblogged from: jeandonnelly
  9. pinoy-noir:

litson clawali
(photo by Noel Shaw)

omg

    pinoy-noir:

    litson clawali

    (photo by Noel Shaw)

    omg

    Reblogged from: pinoy-noir
  10. Guest Interview: "Ta,Too Project" by Kimberley Arteche

    Reblogged from: apresfanon
Next

k*mb*rl**l*d**

Paper theme built by Thomas