TripleAmpersand Journal (&&&)

Its mechanistic protocols of control, exploitation, and expansion catalyzed by industrialization, the geopolitical incursions of highly-toxic Western masculinity have everywhere produced pockets of keen awareness of this masculinity’s illegitimacy and inadequacy. The virtual potential for various forms of liberatory politics to have purchase on the real is increased when these pockets gain depth, density, rationale, and kinesis. It is clear that the dual emergence of telecomputation and the Carbon Liberation Front has given the left project accidental access to the privileged space of End-Game Fantasy . . . and participation in what Uzma Z. Rizvi calls “the speculative fiction of time.

Can we truly embrace the great lesson of ecology, namely, that we are part of a complex array of vulnerable systems, without sparking another reboot in our imaginary cosmogonies? Is representation partly to blame for presenting the world as a digital rendering (everything in it is discreet and divided) instead of a tableaux formed by a multiplicity of topological surfaces that overlap and alter our perception?

The game is to overturn the Pythagorean conception of the string, its harmonics and their respective relations with the series of natural numbers. Under this hegemony, the sound object is conceived of in terms of, or as a number, which in turn becomes the condition for physical structures of the body, initiating sound-action from the executive neurological capacity alone . . . These dynamics, when set into motion, exceed all models founded on transverse vibrations of the string and suggest resonant capacities and emergent properties in the manner of a complex physical system. In practice, the game of Harmonic Criticality is an entrainment with the instrument as object on a neurophysiological level which can be extended to the biochemical and mineral substrates.

The art world shows how the engine of capitalism rather than running on notions of production and labor, or the concept of supply and demand, is actually fueled by capitalization, or how much one is prepared, or rather has been prepared, to pay the price today in order to receive a profit tomorrow. What guarantees future profits in the financial markets as well as the art world is not the logical algorithm of growth but the social power that can be systematically mobilized in both environments to enforce today’s prices and to guarantee a higher return in the future.

Allure, a lure for feeling: shine is a performative operation in which the felt aesthetics of refraction and diffraction reorganize relationality in a radiant choreography of thrown shimmers. Glittering in suspension between revelation and occlusion, between subject and object, between becoming-commodity and its radical disavowal, performances of shine shine light on ways that the derealization of hypervisuality—through embodying the opaque, ornamental, opalescent, obfuscatory—complicate, or even deracinate traditional discourses of visibility in what has come to be known (and often disdained) as conventional “identity” politics . . . Both Holert and Cheng continuously gesture toward a conception of shine beyond its Marxo-Freudian elaboration as “the lure of commodity or sexual fetishism”: a shine, in fact, “that resists precisely the concept of commodification.” This project resonates productively for me . . .

‘Fiction’ is in the air, and it has been for a while. We are all thinking about how plots and narratives are constructed, how convincing stories are told—whether legal, racial, financial, sexual—but what about character:

–as a moral quantity?
–as a narrative agitant?
–as a constructed practice?

If corruption is a process, character is a practice.

Is there not a corresponding danger inherent in the affirmationist discourses around new materialism? If we can locate a symbiosis between new materialism and animation do they not both point to a similar regression to ontological platitudes about internal intensities and oscillating spirits? Does the new materialism end up saying much the same thing as the hit song from The Lego Movie, another recent animated blockbuster: ‘Everything is Awesome!’’

Olivia Leiter responds with a diagram, produced as an algorithmic procedure in order for users to personally cope with the ramifications of sociopolitical corruption.

. . . [f]rom Feuerbach to Rich, we see the utilization of the Spectacle as the means of ensuring a governable population (whose individuals are recruited to die on behalf of the State) and ensuring a specific vision of the future for global politics.[2] What marks this competition as one for ‘divinity’ is not simply the struggle between a ‘secular’ West and a caliphate vying for global dominance – both facts which are nothing but surface effects and require no analysis whatsoever. As Feuerbach notes, even if religion disappears there can remain various substitutes that fulfill its function . . . these spectacular forms of governance are essentially religious because they require populations to be held in states of fear or hope – fear of some divine retribution/damnation, or the hope of a ‘democracy to come’ once the true enemy of the West has been exterminated through a strategy of ‘infinite justice.’

In considering art, culture and workers of every field, it seems that the craving for ‘New Relational Modes’ can be heard from every corner, yet, if one includes colonial history, the Ottoman Empire and the making of the new states mentioned in the text, the formation of the Western world and its relation and imposition of its provincial relational modes (including art), one thing that is easily avoided are the non-Arab Muslim cultures of the same region, and their historic relational modes that pass through the art-highway. What makes us close our eyes to the position of art for Urdu, Persian and Turkish speakers?

Meraud advances a persuasive cartography of the contemporary generic. But for all the polymorphous animism of its rhetoric, the screen remains stubbornly tethered to the device. Yet the Skirmonaut never was beholden to the Californian ideology. The most skillful of their number have always concealed their compulsive piracy under cover of dead media. Painting remains the ultimate scrim, as every good investor knows; neo-formalism the definitive study in purloined iridescence.

While the scientific world never underwent a Kuhnian paradigm shift, it still demonstrated its willingness to doing so, had the evidence proved conclusive. And while science does not simply reveal truths waiting to be discovered, but instead engages things and processes that remain indifferent to our assumptions – at least, until we engage them – we should not read Whitehead or Peirce as asserting that only non-rational negotiations with non-human entities yield results . . . Might it be the case that reason has yet to be considered as itself a material or real process, one in which there is no rationality aside from the invocation of potential yet also material or real reasons?

The Supercommunity Agency, a formal moniker for the millions of intricately networked, constantly mutating social constellations that composed the Government of Earth, transmitted its deliberations over a period of a few months, finally drafting a conclusive decision: humanity would mobilize itself towards the TOTALwork, the voluntary commitment to see through the extinction of the human species altogether. Everyone was to renounce biological reproduction – no more new generations, no more strife against the future, no more investment of desire to find itself better fulfilled in those to come. The species would die out together . . . A concession was made within the Supercommunity: for those who longed for a child, a new birth would be accompanied by the enforced sacrifice of the parents. Soon, even those children who grew up into the Supercommunity once the TOTALwork was well underway would no longer know that it was even possible to reproduce. Sterilization procedures had greatly helped. Sex was just that, sex. Work was creativity, without the anxiety of accumulation and inheritance.

While the genres of the past have been exhausted by the revolutions of modernity, the particular practices and functions of our theoretical knowledge provide normative criteria for judging the intent of artistic gestures. An art which takes seriously the constructive application of its role as a cognitive mediator, and responds to the specific content of the special sciences, may no longer speak to the debased average man, but it might join the chorus of that anonymous anyone who is a vector of liberation.

How would the post-humans of the future cope with immortality and unlimited leisure time? Or access to interplanetary travel? While techno-scientific innovations would be indispensable for achieving these ambitious aims, and the dismantling of the myth of the given not only makes such ambitions possible but demands their realization, it is pure fantasy to imagine that the psychopathologies that haunt the present would not continue to manifest themselves in other guises, even in a post-scarcity and post-mortality future . . . Even if the myth of the given is fully dismantled, and scientific nihilism is taken to its final conclusions, with the human fully ‘hacked’ and programmable as the biological machine that it is, the question still remains as to what we ought to do with this amplified power of self-transformation.

Anche had learned early in her education to not accept fate, that *if nature is unjust, change nature*. She had done this with her formula, saving humanity from the pain of decay, but now, in her inclination to find a solution to the suicide epidemic, she could no longer tell if she was looking to change nature again out of a search for justice, or out of sentimentality and a personal sense of loss.

There seems to be quite a lot of reverence for indifferent necessity, for the animals and gods that ‘live outside the languages that name them.’ Can we see here the philosopher peeking out from beneath the poet’s ill-fitting tunic? Or are Nancy’s stanzas so many stages on which the philosopher performs a tragic-comic drama in which he comes to terms with the fact that he must part ways with both animals and gods, reconciling himself to the fact that he, like the poet, must make do with a language that, though it is estranged from truth—or perhaps because it is estranged from truth—might still furnish a life…

See, but don’t be seen, [Tobias] thought, drifting off to sleep while devising half-conscious plans for repurposing technologies such that, rather than surveilling, they could be used as an even more powerful mode of communication.

Plants precede us, and they will continue on after we’ve passed. This is not a denial of the destruction that humans have wrought on the planet, but rather, a speculation of what may come after the Anthropocene. The Otolith Group’s Radiant (2012), presented at dOCUMENTA (13), examines the aftermath of the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant. The evacuated villages testify to the presence of radiation—toxic to humans but seemingly ignored by plants, which grow unfettered in our absence. They play the long game, one in which neither tortoise nor hare have a chance.

Mohammad Salemy tells us a story of “a group of men and women . . . meeting to discuss the future. . . [A] gathering of a variety of odd characters [Alfred McCormack, Abby Aldrich, Clement Greenberg, John Foster Dulles, David Rockefeller, George Orwell, Alfred Barr, William Stephenson, Eleanor Roosevelt, James Connan, and William Phillips discuss] the charged intersection of art, money, literature, geopolitics, and counterintelligence.”

It is not so much the future that is forecast by DIS editors, but a hyperbole of the present. Forever now for more of the same, only more so: “The future is a season.”, “The future does not exist but in snapshots.”, “The future is layered and inconsistent.”, “The future is widely reproduced and distributed.” As a series of speculative musings, “Styles and Customs of the 2020’s” is as incoherent as HUO’s curated collection of statements about the future in The Future Will Be…, from which the contributors have stridently lifted a generous helping of their sentences (11 to be exact). The case of these “predictions” have only succeeded in creating a dry script art world version of Coffee and Cigarettes. “All we can really hope for is some good designer drugs that actually wake us up from the matrix” is not precisely what Foucault may have had in mind when he wrote that ‘[p]erhaps someday we will no longer know what madness was.’

. . . How could human beings decolonize their minds when neoliberalism radically structures human identities and the seemingly bleak future of organic life on Earth? In the absence of remediation of the geological-agental consequences of the nihilistic cycle of consumption and pollution upon which capitalocentrism utterly depends, how could new worlds emerge? Is it enough to spirit away statues, or is something more radical demanded?

One way of thinking about the word radical is the act of growth, a plant or branch emerging from a root or stem. In this sense being radical is related to slow and evolving development. Childhood prepares us for the absurd, grotesque and perverse situations of adulthood. The coping strategies of the child—free play, open and visceral acknowledgement of emotions, embodied listening, lack of focus, boredom, embracing the random — all present alternative responses to the status quo of adult life.

We all know kids say the darndest things. Engaging the tactics of our younger selves and simultaneously creating space for children’s perspective, experience and ever changing subject positions are core radical and political acts.

In exchange for securing ourselves against the haunting pink mass out there—amassing, overcoming everything into something unknown and unfaithful to our memory of how the world is—we begin to lose the opportunity for novelty to reveal itself. Aberrance is abhorrent.

. . . What kinds of memories are permissible in the city? What practices do we have that enable us to elide our relationships to one another in a place that eludes our initial comprehension? Whose family practices will be tolerated?

Now it becomes possible to imagine what can writing and the work of art do after the death of metaphor, and by whose thought, if the works of the gods, the elementals and the philosophers yield nothing more than an arrangement of corpses in a white cube. What is art-working in a situation in which the accumula-tion of the solar as a databank of infinite names is subject, not to the figure of the librarian, the archivist or any other servant of the philosophically sewn or sun, but rather to the figure of the derivatives trader, the uninvited guest, or the parasite? For Serres, in fact acting as a parasite on philosophy, the parasite is like the joker in a deck of cards— the one card that can assume any potential and whose presence alters production, making conditions for new responses— opening up the third space. “The ramification of the network depends on the number of jokers. But I suspect there is a limit to this. When there are too many, we are lost as if in a labyrinth. What would a series be if there were only jokers? What could be said of it?” (Serres) Maybe—nothing?

Brown:
‘From Politics to Metapolitics’
In his ‘Challenge of Islam’
Brown, the Hellenist, the professor of classics, favouring Hellenism over Hebraism, though living far away,
a few months before Iraq attacked Iran in the first week of Autumn
He had become interested in the compilation of footnotes,
in the Spring,
before those bloody years.
He realized he had missed out on one third of the classics,
1979 reminded him of that fact

“. . . art too only has a capacity for compassion, or empathy, and likewise, it only has a capacity to act as a manual, or a record, to give guidance and so on . . . At present, the only fear computing devices present to me though is not that they are mind-numbingly complex, it is that no matter how complex they seem, each runs by a strict textualism predicated on a very close reading of code and metrics. The real quandary isn’t then what should art and science learn from each other vis-à-vis computing, the question is: are our interlinked machines turning more and more into an association of Prousts and Hugos, or into an army of literal minded Antonin Scalias?”

Years after the 2008 crisis, and no-one in the banks has been held accountable. Not even for negligence! It is difficult to disentangle guilty ingredients from the hot financial stew, but much more so without an organized political will. Without better institutions (nomos) our deepening knowledge of the world (cosmos) will continue to fall flat . . . The problem of better institutions, it so happens, is linked to that of better models, since these models provide impetus and fodder. Quantitative models don’t just measure but also create phenomena: in Donald McKenzie’s words, they are engines and not cameras. A digression into the models of finance and their philosophical grounds is, I hope, useful here. Elie Ayache in Blank Swan has put forward a thorough rebuttal of not just the possibility of prediction, but possibility in general.

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That ineradicable contemporary desire to be an individual, to obtain full happiness, to succeed, to live as though one were a project to be endlessly worked on, as though this were the telos of existence, that desire is the motor of capitalism. As a corrective to this, commonality demands we construct and reform institutions, consolidate common desires, and sediment the political. As Peirce affirms, commonality asserts collective capacity for reform and the continual renewal of the political within the institution. To be a citizen is to be understood through the frame of the co-construction of the common.

How can someone account for any group of mobile workers?
To which class of mobility do artists belong?
Is it necessary to depend upon citation to be told who we are?

[T]o echo Zhilyaey, “[p]erhaps uncovering the cosmos [the itch] as a space for restoring—or even inventing—order and the main goal of humankind’s efforts will give us another way to avoid the dark end of everyday contingencies (para. 7).”

With this itch in mind, here are some questions we might consider further:

What is the role of planning in the creation, distribution, and reception of contemporary art?
How might we reformulate processes of planning in contemporary art towards new political and
philosophical demands?
How might technological intervention aid in the recapitulation of processes of planning in contemporary art?

No animal—and least of all a human—can be considered individual because of its reliance on and mutual exchange of symbiotic microrganisms. Our most fundamental existence is codependent . . . One way of attempting to philosophize ourselves out of the Anthropocene has been to try to consider ourselves objects and others. These turns in realism represent a capitulation to all of that which will survive us—our inert creations, our archives, our infrastructures, our garbage. It is a resignation to the inability of humanity to survive, and a validation of the object as the sole locus of value—especially of lasting value.

All of our ideological systems were built as maps and moral compasses to the vision of a future – some where in the future we were supposed to be moving towards, and those maps gave direction and a sense of purpose to entire generations. Politics became a fight about who had the right set of maps with the best instructions on either how to get there or to avoid going there. Contemporary art as a social system and the linear succession of its avantgardes has also been transformed into an aesthetic guide of cultural footprints which claim to lead us toward the “world to come” . . . The not so new news is that there is no world to come, for the world has no future. This is the void lurking behind the shiny surface of an art world which still pretends to contain all the world’s futures. Shininess is a distraction from the absence of any future . . .
(From Renata’s response)

Is it an ethnographic film? Possibly, it doesn’t really matter, better that it just be a film, albeit in an improvisational realist register, as she says. The Karrabing team combines its skills and starts to throw things into the composition: Kevin and Gavin ‘wanted to tell a story about finding two cartons of beer’ then corrupt police, corrupt miners… Corruption and pollution are the twin dystopic figures that organise this improvisation put together by people simply alert to what is going on around them—thus the realism of the text. ‘…corruption is irrevocably a geontology, says Povinelli, ‘the matter that forms as entities struggle to maintain or enhance their milieu in late liberalism.’

“These expanding [technological] systems and networks are the building blocks for what many perceive as simple constructions or operations like web surfing, text messaging, and social media use. More often than not, the tasks completed within these systems are, to at least some extent, automated and would take longer to explain than most people can pay attention for. This in turn has been slowly subjecting the human mechanism to radical and often rapid changes through immersion, leaving most people with the illusion that ‘having all knowledge at our fingertips’ has made humanity actually smarter.” (from Zac’s response)