Inverno by Juosten Kustannus

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C H R O N I C L E Â C O N D I T I O N

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Intercalation (timekeeping)

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Intercalation or embolism in timekeeping is the insertion of a leap day, week, or month into some calendar years to make the calendar follow the seasons or moon phases. Lunisolar calendars may require intercalations of both days and months. Contents [hide] 1 Solar calendars 2 Lunisolar calendars 3 Islamic calendars 4 Leap seconds 5 Other uses 6 See also 7 References Solar calendars[edit] Further information: Egyptian intercalary month The solar or tropical year does not have a whole number of days (it is about 365.24 days), but a calendar year must have a whole number of days. The most common way to reconcile the two is to vary the number of days in the calendar year. In solar calendars, this is done by adding to a common year of 365 days, an extra day ("leap day" or "intercalary day") about every four years, causing a leap year to have 366 days (Julian, Gregorian and Indian national calendars). The Decree of Canopus, which was issued by the pharaoh Ptolemy III Euergetes of Ancient Egypt in 239 BCE, decreed a solar leap day system; an Egyptian leap year was not adopted until 25 BC, when the Roman Emperor Augustus successfully instituted a reformed Alexandrian calendar. In the Julian calendar, as well as in the Gregorian calendar, which improved upon it, intercalation is done by adding an extra day to February in each leap year. In the Julian calendar this was done every four years. In the Gregorian, years divisible by 100 but not 400 were exempted in order to improve accuracy. Thus, 2000 was a leap year; 1700, 1800, and 1900 were not. Epagomenal[1] days are days within a solar calendar that are outside any regular month. Usually five epagomenal days are included within every year (Egyptian, Coptic, Ethiopian, Mayan Haab' and French Republican Calendars), but a sixth epagomenal day is intercalated every four years in some (Coptic, Ethiopian and French Republican calendars). The Bahá'í calendar includes enough epagomenal days (usually 4 or 5) before the last month (‫ءالع‬, ʿalāʾ) to ensure that the following year starts on the March equinox. These are known as the Ayyám-i-Há. Lunisolar calendars[edit] The solar year does not have a whole number of lunar months (it is about 12.37 lunations), so a lunisolar calendar must have a variable number of months in a year. Regular years have 12 months, but embolismic years insert a 13th "intercalary" or "embolismic" month every second or third year (see blue moon). Whether to insert an intercalary month in a given year may be determined using regular cycles such as the 19-year Metonic cycle (Hebrew calendar and in the determination of Easter) or using calculations of lunar phases (Hindu lunisolar and Chinese calendars). The Buddhist calendar adds both an intercalary day and month on a usually regular cycle. Islamic calendars[edit] Main article: Nasi' The tabular Islamic calendar usually has 12 lunar months that alternate between 30 and 29 days every year, but an intercalary day is added to the last month of the year 11 times within a 30-year cycle. Some historians also linked the pre-Islamic practice of Nasi' to intercalation. The Solar Hijri calendar is based on solar calculations and is similar to the Gregorian calendar in its structure, and hence the intercalation, with the exception that the year date starts with the Hegira.[2]

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Leap seconds[edit] The International Earth Rotation and Reference Systems Service can insert or remove leap seconds from the last day of any month (June and December are preferred). These are sometimes described as intercalary.[3] Other uses[edit] ISO 8601 includes a specification for a 52-week year. Any year that has 53 Thursdays has 53 weeks; this extra week may be regarded as intercalary. See also[edit] Lunisolar calendar Egyptian, Coptic, and Ethiopian calendars Iranian calendar Islamic calendar Celtic calendar Thai lunar calendar Bengali calendar Igbo calendar The World Calendar Intercalated Games References[edit] Jump up ^ From ἐπαγόμενος, epagomenos (present participle passive of ἐπάγειν, epagein "to bring in") + -al Jump up ^ "Hijri-Shamsi Calendar". Al Islam. Retrieved June 14, 2014. Jump up ^ leap second by Merriam-Webster OnLine [show] v t e Time [show] v t e Time measurement and standards Categories: Calendars Navigation menu Not logged inTalkContributionsCreate accountLog inArticleTalkReadEditView historySearch Search Wikipedia Go Main page Contents Featured content Current events Random article Donate to Wikipedia Wikipedia store

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Hibernal solstice / December 27 Loneliness of the Project Room 12 / 180

Recent changes Contact page Tools What links here Related changes Upload file Special pages Permanent link Page information Wikidata item Cite this page Print/export Create a book Download as PDF Printable version Languages አማርኛ ‫ةيبرعلا‬ Deutsch Esperanto ‫یسراف‬ Français Hrvatski Latina Bahasa Melayu 日本語 Polski Simple English Српски / srpski Srpskohrvatski / српскохрватски Svenska ไทย Türkçe Tiếng Việt 中文 Edit links This page was last modified on 6 February 2017, at 01:48. Text is available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License; additional terms may apply. By using this site, you agree to the Terms of Use and Privacy Policy. Wikipedia® is a registered trademark of the Wikimedia Foundation, Inc., a non-profit organization. Privacy policyAbout WikipediaDisclaimersContact WikipediaDevelopersCookie statement

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The Weak Universalism

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totta

94.

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Institute

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tamme ja saatamme sortua moraalisesti epäilyttävään toimintaan.

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Passiot ja akrasia

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Onnellisuus saavutetaan siis johdonmukaisel- Hyveellistä toimintaa uhkaa passioidenarmeila käytöksellä. Toisin sanoen ihmisen on pys- ja. Passiot syntyvät sekavista ja hetkittäisistä tyttävä mahdollisuuksien mukaan erottamaan havainnoista, jotka jäävät inhimillisen tiedostodelliset hyvät näennäisistä hyvistä. Tämä tuskyvyn alapuolelle mutta jotka silti vaikuttaei ole mitenkään helppoa, sillä esimerkiksi vat harkintaan. Esimerkkinä voidaan mainita ruokaan tai juomaan liittyvät hyvät voivat vaikkapa tuoksut, äänet ja visuaaliset ärsyknäyttää paljon houkuttelevammilta kuin esi- keet. Leibnizin mukaan jokaisessa inhimillimerkiksi henkiset ilot, joissa ”palkinto” tulee sessä tilanteessa on läsnä sekavia havaintoja, vasta pitkällä tähtäimellä. Toisaalta todellisten jotka sekoittuvat selviin ja tarkkoihin ideoihin hyvien synnyttämä mielihyvä on kestäväm- ja voivat vääristää niitä. Toisin sanoen passiot pää laatua (esimerkkinä vaikkapa musiikki). ovat väistämättä läsnä kaikissa harkintatilanTäydellisyyden kokeminen liittyy Leibnizilla teissa. Leibnizin mukaan mitä selvempiä ja sekaviin havaintoihin, ja siksi kokemusta on tarkempia havaintomme ovat, sitä vapaampi, vaikea yksilöidä (G VII, 86). Voimme sanoa spontaanimpi ja aktiivisempi mielemme on miltä jokin taideteos tuntuu, mutta meidän on (Nouveaux essais II, xxi, § 72; A VI, 6, 210). vaikeampi selittää, miksi se aiheuttaa meissä tietynlaisen kokemuksen. Kokemus aiheuttaa Leibnizin harkinta on modernistisesti moniarkuitenkin mielihyvää ja synnyttää myös odo- voista – harkinnassa on aina läsnä monia eri tuksia vastaavanlaisista mielihyväkokemuk- suuntiin vetäviä taipumuksia, joiden väliltä sista tulevaisuudessa. ymmärrys valitsee. Toisinaan eri taipumukset joutuvat keskenään ristiriitaan tai sulautuvat toisiinsa, jolloin lopullinen toimintasuositus on eräänlainen kompromissi monista eri taipumuksista (Nouveaux essais II, xxi, § 39; A VI, 6, 192). Harkinnalle on läsnä sekä selviin ja tarkkoihin havaintoihin perustuvia taipumuksia että sekaviin havaintoihin perustuvia taipumuksia. Mitä tarkemmin harkinta kykenee erottamaan nämä toisistaan ja valitsemaan voittopuolisesti selviin ja tarkkoihin havaintoihin perustuvat taipumukset, sitä parempi on se toimintasuositus, jota tahto yleensä seuraa. Jos harkinta epäonnistuu, seuraamme passioi Leibnizilla on mielenkiintoinen ajatusrakennelma itsensä kouluttamisesta tai manipuloimisesta. Hänen mukaansa emme voi suoraan vaikuttaa tahtomuksi imme. Niihin voi kuitenkin vaikuttaa epäsuorasti kehittämällä ymmärrystämme järkeä käyttämällä. Itsekoulutus tähtää hyvien tapojen omaksumiseen, jonka seurauksena on helpompi vastustaa kiusauksia. Tämänlainen koulutus on myös keskeinen ase heikkotahtoisuutta vastaan. Heikkotahtoisuus tai akrasia on Leibnizin mukaan lähes päivittäinen ilmiö, jota vastaan on taisteltava systemaattisesti. Leibnizin mukaan heikkotahtoisuudessa oikea vaihtoehto (toimintataipumus) on läsnä harkinnassa ja tiedostettu, mutta se ei motivoi toimijaa riittävästi, jotta hän seuraisi sitä. Sen sijaan toimija suuntautuu toiseen vaihtoehtoon, joka on vähemmän hyvä kuin paras mahdollinen toimintasuositus. Toisin sanoen, toimija jättää parhaaksi tietämänsä toimintasuosituksen mukaisen teon tietoisesti suorittamatta. ”Ihmisille on päivittäistä toimia sitä vastaan minkä he tietävät; he piilottavat sen itseltään kääntämällä ajatuksensa syrjään, jotta voivat seurata passioitaan. Muussa tapauksessa emme huomaisi ihmisten syövän ja juovan sellaista, jonka he tietävät tekevän heidät sairaiksi tai jopa tappavan heidät.” (Nouveaux essais I, ii, § 11; A VI, 6, 94) Tahtoaan voi kuitenkin vahvistaa manipuloimalla itseään ja valmistautumalla ennakolta tilanteisiin, joissa kiusauksia sattuu (G VI, 391–392). Koska tahto yleensä seuraa ymmärrystä, meidän on pyrittävä selviin ja tarkkoihin havaintoihin asiassa kuin asiassa, jolloin ymmärryksemme sortuu vähemmän todennäköisesti sekavien havaintojen seireeninlauluun. Kommentaarissaan Descartesin Principia Philosophiae -teokseen (Animadversiones in partem generalem Principiorum Cartesianorum) Leibniz vertaa järkeilyä laskemiseen ja korostaa tarkistusten, keskittymisen, eri osa-alueiden punnitsemisen ja harjoituksen merkitystä (G IV, 361–362). Mm. näillä metodeilla ymmärrystä voidaan kehittää, jolloin kykymme rationaalisiin

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The Weak Universalism

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Loneliness of the Project Room

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Hibernal solstice / January 5

FERNAND BRAUDEL AND GLOBAL HISTORY1 The Life and the Man Fernand Braudel (1902-1985) was one of the great historians of the twentieth century. He published his great work on The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World of Philip II in 1949. His other major later work, the three volumes of Civilization and Capitalism, was published in 1979. Throughout his later life he exerted a great influence not only through his writing but also as Director and Editor of Annales, the journal founded by Bloch and Lucien Febvre. He was also president of the sixth section of the Ecole Des Hautes Etudes and founder and administrator of the Maison Des Sciences de L’Homme and a Professor at the College de France. Braudel was clearly a man of immense creative energy, his five volumes on the Mediterranean and Capitalism, comprised nearly three thousand pages, but were only two thirds of his printed output. He was also a considerable linguist, reading in original languages in the archives in Spanish, French, Italian and other languages. . By the age of 36, Braudel had deep experience of three different civilizations, his own French attachment to Lorraine, the Islamic/North African experience of teaching in Algeria for about ten years, and the Portuguese/South American experience of teaching in Sao Paolo for three years. This had an opening effect which may explain his realization of long-distance links and interest in world history. It also gave him a sense of curiosity about his own world. He emphasized in his work that it was important to feel ‘surprise and distance - those important aids to comprehension are both equally necessary for an understanding of that which surrounds you - surrounds you so evidently that you can no longer see it clearly.' 2

Loneliness of the Project Room

Like some latter-day shaman, he underwent a conversion experience accompanied with a long period of seclusion. When he reacted against diplomatic and short-term political history in the late 1930's, and had gathered most of the data, he then found himself in a German concentration camp at Lubeck for five years. It is tempting to speculate that this allowed him to fuse his thought and send it in a different direction. His shame, helplessness and remorse at the defeat of his beloved France seems to have set in his blood his most famous contribution to historical method, the distinction between the three levels of time. All these occurrences which poured in upon us from the radio and the newspapers of our enemies, or even the news from London which our clandestine receivers gave us - I had to outdistance, reject, deny them. Down with occurrences, especially the vexing ones! I have to believe that history, destiny, was written at a much more profound level.3

He explained that In the course of a gloomy captivity I fought hard to escape from the chronicle of those difficult years. To reject the events and the time of events was to put one's self beyond them, in a shelter, to look at them from a little distance, to 1

This is an expanded version of a talk given on 1st February 1996 at the Institute of Historical Research at a seminar on global history organized by Patrick O’Brien. I have not altered the contents except minimally to improve style and grammar and to expand the notes into a full text. 2 In ed. Burke, Economic,24. 3 In Mayne preface, History of Civilizations, xv.

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judge them better and not too much to believe in them. From temps court to pass to temps less court and temps very long...'4

The outcome of his work is indeed impressive. Lucien Febvre described Braudel’s 'Mediterranean' volumes as 'this perfect historical work...more than a professional masterpiece. A revolution in the way of conceiving of history...'5 The usually acerbic J.H.Hexter, despite small criticisms described it as 'a miracle of historical scholarship that shames both my narrow vision and my narrow learning'. The English chronicler of the Annales School, Peter Burke, 'has a good claim to be regarded as the most important work of history of the century'. 6 As for his influence, we are all heirs of Braudel, whether we like it or not. He is part of the air we breathe. Again quoting Burke, '...his contribution to the renewal of historical studies in our time was greater than that of either Marc Bloch or Lucien Febvre, and possibly greater than that of the two scholars together.'7 What Braudel created; a tour round the Braudelian museums. Throughout Braudel's work there are metaphors and they particularly cluster around the idea of levels. In his famous divisions of subject and time into He made a famous division of subject and time into the following: structure - longue duree (thousands of years; geological time; geography, culture etc.; for example long-term climatic changes) conjoncture - moyenne duree (decades or hundreds of years - economic and social time; for example the industrial revolution) evenement - courte duree (days, weeks, a year; political and diplomatic time – for example the Battle of Lepanto)

Loneliness of the Project Room

Three metaphors appear to represent the 'levels'. The first is of the ocean; the deep, unmoving water; the second is slow movement of the tides; the third is the froth of the waves. Thus, in a famous image he described events as mere ‘crests of foam that the tides of history carry on their strong backs’. 8 A second metaphor is geological: the deep rocks, the middle soils, the surface stones and flora and fauna. A third metaphor is architectural, a building with floors or levels. For instance, he writes that the great fairs of the sixteenth century 'can be viewed as a sort of penthouse to the structure, a superstructure and therefore as ballooning out of this superstructure...'9 In this sense of implying levels of structure, Braudel is part of that wider structural movement that dominated all of the social sciences in the middle of the twentieth century. Braudel explicitly acknowledges this. In the last lines of the Mediterranean he declares, 'By temperament I am a structuralist, little attracted by events and only partly by conjoncture, that grouping of events carrying the same sign."10 The third, architectural, metaphor gives us a way of approaching his two great works, for they may 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Quoted in Hexter, On Historians, 104. Hexter, On historians, 111. Burke, Sociology and History, 26. In Dict. of Historians, s.v. Braudel. Quoted in Burke, Dict. of Historians, 50. Braudel, Afterthoughts, 25. Quoted in Hexter, 97.

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Hibernal solstice / January 8 Previous chapters 36 / 180

We argue that in cases where seriality is not explicit, a publication exempts itself from several characteristics fundamental to the genre, foremost being the notion of futurity, which has implications for an artist´s ongoing commitment to a project and audience´s expectations of new issues. This is one of this survey´s principal revelations: that the promise of a “next issue” can open a channel for dialogue that allows an artist to respond to his or her audience (and vice versa) within the work itself.

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“The spectacle expresses nothing more than society´s wish to sleep.”

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PREFACE As I prepared to send this manuscript to the press I was struck by the realization that I was at the age at which Boethius may be supposed to have been executed. My first temptation was to say that I had spent more of my life in contemplation of his Consolation of Philosophy than he ever did, two decades that have seen a dissertation and two literary studies as well as the painstaking work that has resulted in this, what I hope will be seen as, not only a new translation, but a new sort of translation, of Consolation. But the truth rapidly displaced this boast: Boethius did spend more time on Consolation than I have. I do not mean that he composed it over twenty years; rather, it had become clear to me that this book encapsulates and consummates a lifetime of work, embracing in subtle and remarkable ways both the volumes of translations and commentaries that he had been able to commit to paper and all of those projects for which he would never be given the opportunity or the time. I do not refer just to the well-known hopeful statement of the young Boethius that he intended to translate and comment on all of the works of Plato and Aristotle and demonstrate their harmony and consistency. Rather, the spirit of St. Augustine, whose Con- fessions presides over many aspects of this work (the general structural principle of dialogue as self-examination, for example, and the anguished doubts about the nature of rational inquiry at V.3 and V.m.3), directed Boethius to compose as his last work what may in many ways be seen as a parallel to Augustine’s Retractions. Augustine was once able to contem- plate all the works that he had written and comment on their strengths and weaknesses; Boethius, I would argue, does the same here in these retractions, meaning not “withdrawals” but “going over one more time.” It is an unfortunate and incurious simplification that sees Consolation as merely inspirational; it is also confessional, and the prisoner’s struggle to locate himself

1 Most important are the translations from Boethius’ First and Second Com- mentaries on Aristotle’s On Interpretation in Blank and Kretzmann 1998, 129–86. Boethius’ analysis of Chapter 9 of On Interpretation, in which Aristotle intro- duces his famous example of tomorrow’s sea battle in a discussion of future con- tingents, makes a number of important appearances in Book V of Consolation. See also Spade 1994, 20–25, for a translation of Boethius’ discussion of the three questions about universals that Porphyry refuses to discuss in his Isagoge (Introduction to the Categories of Aristotle) from his Second Commentary on the Isagoge. 2 Curley 1986, 211–12, begins with a brief discussion of the gulf that separates modern Western philosophy from Boethius, and of the modern inability to respond literarily to a philosophical work. x INTRODUCTION xi structures into which it fits its arguments than by the arguments themselves. Not only is it not a commentary; it chooses in preference to align itself with a number of other literary forms that would seem to have little to do with systematic philosophy. The first is announced in the title, which is not merely a poetic fancy but a generic labeling: Consolation lays claim to the genre of consolation, a moral exhortation, an address to one who is bereaved, an argument that death is not to be feared.3 But here too is a surprise for any reader whose sole exposure to ancient consolatory literature is Boethius. The title is a paradox at best; Philosophy’s consolation is not a consolation according to the practices of the genre. It avoids what is the most characteristic function of the genre: to explain why death is not to be feared.4 If anything, Consolation is about the consolation that death itself provides (Philosophy encourages the prisoner to embrace it; cf. I.3.6, 9; II.7.21–23, IV.6.42).5 An ancient reader who expected a consolation would have been frustrated in that expectation; the modern reader must be encouraged to wonder about the author’s provocative title. There is another false promise associated with this one: All consolations conclude with some sort of explanation of the rewards of the blessed or the punishments of sinners, some view of the life after death and the abode of the good. Philosophy in fact frequently offers to take the prisoner to his fatherland, from where he can look down on the world below (cf. IV.1.8–9, IV.m.1, V.1.4; so also the conclusion of III.m.12); one may see the rewards of virtuous philosophers and the punishments of wicked tyrants in this world. In this regard, Consolation could be called Apocalypse Denied; for some reason, the beatific vision is never achieved. Death hangs over this Consolation, but something other than the fact that our soon-to-be-executed author chooses not to make himself die in this work of fiction is responsible for this deferral. It is another frustration for the reader: Why does Consolation so often evoke the expectation of such a vision and then refuse to satisfy it? But there is a genre whose rules and conventions Boethius the author does follow in writing this strange Consolation: This is the comic genre of Menippean satire, which delights in multiple points of view, the presence of many genres of literature within a single work, and the 3 An excellent presentation of the conventions of consolatory literature in antiquity and late antiquity may be found in the introduction to Scourfield 1993. 4 Despite its vast medieval authority, Boethius’ Consolation had no influence on medieval consolatory literature for this simple reason. 5 Cf. Shanzer 1984, 362–66. xii INTRODUCTION frustration of expectations. Named after the Cynic philosopher and au-

within the world of time, Book V’s capstone to Philosophy’s presentations, is no mere step in an impersonal argument. Frank Kermode, toward the end of The Sense of an Ending, quotes Philip Larkin: Truly, though our element is time, We are not suited to the long perspectives Open at each instant of our lives. They link us to our losses . . . . viii PREFACE ix Kermode comments: “Merely to give order to these perspectives is to provide consolation. . . .”1 Boethius the author belongs to two worlds, perhaps to a number of pairs of worlds, all of which find their place in Consolation: active and theoretical, Aristotelian and Platonic, temporal and eternal, Christian and pagan. His life’s work was dedicated to one particular world, to Aristotle and commentary on Aristotle, to toil on the lower slopes of Parnassus: In the world of Neo-Platonism, Aristotle was, after all, only considered an adjunct to the study of Plato and the higher studies of the metaphysical architecture of the universe and the myth of the soul’s return to its source. Might not Boethius, like any author, pause to regret the limitations of his past choices, to try to create something newer and bigger, and to hope for a chance to write again? Surely, Consolation of Philosophy is like nothing else that the author had written before, or that any philosopher had written before. How and why such an eccentric work came to be written is worthy of all our attention. In what follows, I try to make clear, if nothing else, at least how complex and many-layered a work Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy is; I hope also to provide the means to make this complexity comprehensible. I have a number of people to thank who have helped me in this enterprise: Deborah Wilkes of Hackett Publishing Company, who encouraged me to undertake this translation; Wheaton College, which, for the sabbati- cal in which the first draft was done, gave me a lovely office in the library through whose windows the ivy grew; my colleague Jonathan Brumberg- Kraus, who in a lapidary phrase suggested to me that Philosophy may be what Boethius speaks through, but religion is what he talks about; Joseph Pucci of Brown University, “the present truth of Providence,” who gave every word of this translation meticulous scrutiny; my family, a source of inspiration greater than Philosophy.

thor of the third century B.C.E., the genre is best known for its mixture of prose and verse; but as I have argued, the function of such a mixture is to make the resulting work unclassifiable by ancient literary standards, which strictly separate prose and verse genres.6 By mixing prose and verse organically together, not merely quoting poetry but incorporating it; by having speakers within a dialogue speak in verse; by having a narrator who will at times communicate in verse as well as in prose; by making a problem out of the very fact of the composition of the text7— by all of these means the genre creates unreliable narrators, authors of questionable authority, and texts with ever-shifting points of view. It undermines the consistency that a reader expects of a work, and makes the interpretation of the work problematic. It may seem surprising that Consolation with all its sincerities belongs to such a genre; but it is in fact an ideal genre for describing two worlds, and for suggest- ing that such worlds do not easily coalesce into one. Prose and verse within Consolation have long been thought of as representative of two different avenues to the truth, logical and emotional, discursive and affective. But I would argue that Consolation is in fact trying to enclose all of human experience within it; and true to its Menippean origins, it expresses the difficulty inherent in trying to reduce such human experience to theory and rule. Consolation may not seem to have much in common with the Satyricon of Petronius, the best-known Menippean satire, though it is worth noticing that Death is a powerful presence in both of them; more important is what happens to the genre in late antiquity, and particularly in two works (of the early and late fifth century, respectively) close to Boethius’ own time that clearly have left their stamp on it. These are both encyclopedias of sorts, each an attempt to encapsulate human wisdom, each depicting the embarrassment of a theorist who thought that the world could be so easily categorized and understood. The first is the allegorical extravaganza of Martianus Capella, The Marriage of Philology and 6 Relihan 1993, 12–48: “A Definition of Ancient Menippean Satire.” 7 Nowhere in Consolation does Philosophy tell the prisoner to write; he is first seen taking dictation from his Muses, and then setting his pen down. At II.7.20, Philosophy tells a story of a false philosopher, who

would have proved himself a true philosopher had he kept quiet; the fact that the philosopher Boethius has written Consolation down, evidently after the fact of his conversation with Phi- losophy, may be seen as a sort of rejection of Philosophy’s expectations for what constitutes a true philosopher. Only one who did not escape with Philosophy to his true fatherland could have done so. INTRODUCTION xiii Mercury.8 In it, Philology is chosen to be Mercury’s bride; she prepares

I did not, of course, take all the advice that I was given; for the errors and infelicities that remain because of my injudicious refusals, I take lonely responsibility. J. C. R. Wheaton College Norton, Massachusetts 1 Frank Kermode, The Sense of an Ending: Studies in the Theory of Fiction (New York: Oxford University Press, 1967), 179. INTRODUCTION The philosophers of the sixth century neither sought nor prized originality. Their labors took the form of commentary (or, in the case of the Latin Boethius, translation and commentary) on the established corpus of Platonic and Aristotelian works. A new idea may occasionally find expression in a commentary, decently obscured by the verbiage around it; but the philosophical system most characteristic of this period, which we call Neo-Platonism, did not present itself as, or even imagine itself as, anything other than the literal meaning of a systematized Plato. Philosophers were the guardians of inherited truth; their views were conserva- tive; their contributions lay in the ever-more-elaborate presentation of the harmonies of the philosophical thoughts that came before them. It is now possible to read portions of Boethius’ own Aristotelian commentaries in English translation, and this is in fact a highly desirable exercise, to appreciate the vast gulf in style, structure, tone, and intellectual goal that separates his commentaries from this, his final work.1 If Consolation of Philosophy were in any way a typical product of this era, it would today be scarcely read or remembered. The reader must not be misled by the fame of the book into thinking that it is in any way ordinary. The philosophical views expressed within it may be quaint by modern standards, but Consolation is in fact a work of surprising originality.2 This originality is communicated more by the

herself for her wedding; she ascends to Olympus, catching briefly a view of the abode of the Unknown Father that lies beyond, offers a prayer to the Father, and arrives on Olympus where the Seven Liberal Arts are presented to her as wedding gifts, explaining to her in encyclopedic fashion their knowledge.9 The prayer to the Unknown Father, in epic hexameters (2.185–93), is the model for the hexameter central poem of Consolation (III.m.9), also an address to the Creator. Also of interest is that the work is presented in the form of a debate between the author and Satire, the Muse of the work; they struggle with questions of propri- ety, and at the end the Muse abandons the work in disgust as unworthy of her lofty goals; the narrator has had too much influence in it. Still closer to Boethius’ own time is the Mythologies of Fulgentius, three books of simple-minded allegorical interpretations of Classical myths accommodated to Christian thought. The appearance of Calliope, the Muse of the work, to the sleeping and incompetent narrator in the introduction is one of a num-

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To Elise again and always

Hibernal solstice / January 11 Loneliness of the Project Room

Paragraphs on Conceptual Writing Kenneth Goldsmith I will refer to the kind of writing in which I am involved as conceptual writing. In conceptual writing the idea or concept is the most important aspect of the work. When an author uses a conceptual form of writing, it means that all of the planning and decisions are made beforehand and the execution is a perfunctory affair. The idea becomes a machine that makes the text. This kind of writing is not theoretical or illustrative of theories; it is intuitive, it is involved with all types of mental processes and it is purposeless. It is usually free from the dependence on the skill of the writer as a craftsman. It is the objective of the author who is concerned with conceptual writing to make her work mentally interesting to the reader, and therefore usually she would want it to become emotionally dry. There is no reason to suppose, however, that the conceptual writer is out to bore the reader. It is only the expectation of an emotional kick, to which one conditioned to Romantic literature is accustomed, that would deter the reader from perceiving this writing. Conceptual writing is not necessarily logical. The logic of a piece or series of pieces is a device that is used at times, only to be ruined. Logic may be used to camouflage the real intent of the writer, to lull the reader into the belief that she understands the work, or to infer a paradoxical situation (such as logic vs. illogic). Some ideas are logical in conception and illogical perceptually. The ideas need not be complex. Most ideas that are successful are ludicrously simple. Successful ideas generally have the appearance of simplicity because they seem inevitable. In terms of ideas the writer is free even to surprise herself. Ideas are discovered by intuition. No matter what form it may finally have it must begin with an idea. It is the process of conception and realization with which the writer is concerned. Once given physical reality by the writer the work is open to the perception of all, including the author. (I use the word perception to mean the apprehension of the sense data, the objective understanding of the idea, and simultaneously a subjective interpretation of both). The work of literature can be perceived only after it is completed.

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Literature that is meant for the sensation of the ear primarily would be called aural rather than conceptual. This would include most poetry and certain

strains of fiction. Since the function of conception and perception are contradictory (one pre-, the other post-fact) the author would mitigate her idea by applying subjective judgment to it. If the author wishes to explore her idea thoroughly, then arbitrary or chance decisions would be kept to a minimum, while caprice, taste and others whimsies would be eliminated from the making of the text. The work does not necessarily have to be rejected if it does not look well. Sometimes what is initially thought to be awkward will eventually be aesthetically pleasing. To work with a plan that is preset is one way of avoiding subjectivity. It also obviates the necessity of designing each work in turn. The plan would design the work. Some plans would require millions of variations, and some a limited number, but both are finite. Other plans imply infinity. In each case, however, the writer would select the basic form and rules that would govern the solution of the problem. After that the fewer decisions made in the course of completing the work, the better. This eliminates the arbitrary, the capricious, and the subjective as much as possible. This is the reason for using this method. When an author uses a multiple modular method she usually chooses a simple and readily available form. The form itself is of very limited importance; it becomes the grammar for the total work. In fact, it is best that the basic unit be deliberately uninteresting so that it may more easily become an intrinsic part of the entire work. Using complex basic forms only disrupts the unity of the whole. Using a simple form repeatedly narrows the field of the work and concentrates the intensity to the arrangement of the form. This arrangement becomes the end while the form becomes the means. Conceptual writing doesn't really have much to do with mathematics, philosophy, or any other mental discipline. The mathematics used by most writers is simple arithmetic or simple number systems. The philosophy of the work is implicit in the work and it is not an illustration of any system of philosophy. It doesn't really matter if the reader understands the concepts of the author by reading the text. Once it is out of her hand the writer has no control over the way a reader will perceive the work. Different people will understand the

same thing in a different ways. If the writer carries through her idea and makes it into visible form, then all the steps in the process are of importance. The idea itself, even if not made apparent, is as much a work of art as any finished product. All intervening steps - sketches, drafts, failed attempts, versions, studies, thoughts, conversations- are of interest. Those that show the thought process of the writer are sometimes more interesting than the final product. Determining what length a piece should be is difficult. If the book were made lengthy then the size alone would be impressive and the idea may be lost entirely. Again, if it is too small, it may become inconsequential. I think the text must be long enough to give the reader whatever information she needs to understand the work and framed in such a way that will facilitate this understanding. The page can be thought of as the flat area bound by the three-dimensional volume. Any tome will occupy space; one must never disregard the physical characteristics of the printed volume. If the text is meant to reside permanently on the computer or network, its placement on the screen or printout is equally important. It is the interval between things that can be measured. The intervals and measurements can be important to a work of conceptual writing. If space is relatively unimportant -- as, for example, on a web page -- it should be regularized and made equal (things placed equal distances apart) to mitigate any interest in interval. Regular space might also become a metric time element, a kind of regular beat or pulse. When the interval is kept regular whatever is irregular gains more importance. Marketplace fiction and forms of "purposeful" writing are of completely opposite natures. The former is concerned with making a text with a specific function. Fiction, for example, whether it is a work of art or not, must be utilitarian or else fail completely. Conceptual writing is not utilitarian. When poetry starts to take on some of the characteristics, such as staking out utilitarian zones, it weakens its function as art. New materials are one of the great afflictions of contemporary writing. Some writers confuse new materials with new ideas. There is nothing worse than seeing art that wallows in gaudy baubles. The electronic writing landscape is littered with such failures. By and large most authors who are attracted to these materials are the ones who lack the stringency of mind that would enable them to use the materials well. It takes a good writer to use new materials and make them into a work of literature. The danger is, I think, in making the physicality of the materials so important that it becomes the idea of the work (another kind of Romanticism). It is challenging enough for the author to simply write with the rigidity of an idea in mind; add to that programming, design and sound and the challenge becomes insurmountable. Writing of any kind is a physical fact. The physicality is its most obvious and expressive content. Conceptual writing is made to engage the mind of the reader rather than her ear or emotions. The physicality of the work can become a contradiction to its nonemotive intent. Rhyme, meter, texture, and enjambment only emphasize the physical aspects of the work. Anything that calls attention to and interests the reader in this physicality is a deterrent to our understanding of the idea and is used as an expressive device. The conceptual writer would want to ameliorate this emphasis on materiality as much as possible or to use it in a paradoxical way (to convert it into an idea). This kind of writing, then, should be stated with the greatest economy of means. Ideas may be stated with numbers or words or any way the author chooses, the form being unimportant.

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These paragraphs are not intended as categorical imperatives, but the ideas stated are as close as possible to my thinking at this time. These ideas are the result of my work as a writer and are subject to change as my experience changes. I have tried to state

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As a process tool,

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As a process tool,

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Hibernal solstice / January 13 Loneliness of the Project Room

And this. Looks good. All these pdfs (and more!) you can download from here.

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QR kiloa Kittens!

Lista taiteilijoista, joita on pompannut esille tästä työstä keskusteltaessa; Juurikin nämä keskustelut ovat mulle henkilökohtaisesti olleet kaikkein inspiroi s e n s u u r i n tapoja e s t e t käsitell i i k k a , äetyötä, p ä a r ja t i khakea u l a a tuusia io, m umina näkökulmia; tälle studiovisiitin tapaiselle olomuodolle haluan rakentaa uusiakin suuntia; myös koulun jälkeen; kun se ei o näin helppoa;

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The good old gum printing

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Additional text only, Additional text only. Additional text only, Additional text only Additional text only, Additional text only Additional text only, Additional text only. Additional text only, Additional text only. Additional text only, Additional text only. Additional text only, Additional text only. Additional text only, Additional text only. Additional text only, Additional text only.

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Loneliness of the Project Room

Hibernal solstice / January 15

The reading may stop in the very moment you have understood the total structure of the book. (Ulises Carrion)

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Hibernal solstice / January 16 Loneliness of the Project Room 52 / 180

their definitions. T e quota- tion from the New Century Dictionary, for example, opens with a conceptu- alized linguistic version of history painting—the etymology of the word— and passes into a sweeping atmospheric landscape and paysage marin: “the liquid which in more or less impure state constitutes rain, oceans, lakes, rivers, etc.” T e Oxford definition, in contrast, suggests the relation of the water panels to Kosuth’s nothing series by stressing privatives: “colourless, transparent, tasteless, scentless.” Avoiding the more scientific language of chemistry that other dictionaries emphasize, Oxford continues: “in liquid state convertible by heat into steam and by cold into ice.” One might take that panel, accordingly, as a response to George Brecht’s 1961 Fluxus score for “T ree Aqueous Events”: • ice • water • steam Regardless of the intertextual resonance with Kosuth’s photostat, such Fluxus scores were important antecedents for conceptual art because their laconic propositions anticipated a wide range of possible actions and objects; the scores presented suffi ciently abstract models of potential, rather than completed events or crafted objects, and so required thought both on the part of the performer, who had to work the cryptic sketches into concrete forms, and on the part of the audience, who had to make the mental connection between score and performance. At the same time, those specific events and objects, however quotidian and unremarkable they might be, necessarily constituted art by fulfilling the requirements of the score. T rough the force of the score’s nominalization, enactments were, by definition, artistic performances. xxvi CRAIG DWORKIN Rauschenberg and Kosuth, each in their own way, took Duchamp’s lead in privileging the intellectual over the visual, ideas over mimetic represen- tations, and linguistic play over mute visual language or sculptural craft. “Everything was becoming conceptual,” Duchamp explained: “that is, it depended on things other than the retina.”9 Eschewing the visual emphasis of illusionistic or referential imagery—with its call for aesthetic appreciation, narrative engagement, or psychological response—conceptual art equally abandoned the compositional bids for phenomenological experience or emotional intensities that abstract art elicited. Instead, conceptual art off ered information. Abstraction, to be sure, had pioneered a mode of art that did not refer to something outside itself, but conceptual art substituted factual documentary—information about information—in place of the optical apprehension of composition, gesture, and the material facture of traditional media.10 As Douglas Huebler put it, inspired by the insistently literal, nonmetaphoric, and exhaustive writing of Samuel Beckett and the nouveaux romanciers, the new interest was in “the factic- ity of that raw information without worrying about supposed meanings.”11 Robert Morris dramatized the deadpan literalism that would come to char- acterize conceptual art’s recursive factual tactic with his 1961 Box with the Sound of Its Own Making, in which a roughly unfinished—if rather tidy— ten-inch-square walnut box encloses an audio tape player with a looped recording of the box’s construction: sawing and hammering; the scuff and knock of parts being moved; long, silent moments of measure or cogita- tion or rest. T e box turned Duchamp’s À bruit secret (With Hidden Noise, 1916) inside out, displaying with documentary clarity what Duchamp had kept tactfully cryptic. T e earlier sculpture, a roughly thirteen-centimeter- square assemblage securing a ball of twine between two inscribed brass plates with long bolts, conceals an unknown object—surreptitiously introduced by Walter Arensberg while Duchamp was constructing the piece— which rattles when the sculpture is shaken.12 À bruit secret is animated by its surreal comixture of organically coiled twine and hard machined metal, as well as by its kinetic interactivity and the tension between its hand- scaled size and relative heft. In comparison, Morris’s box—more pragmatic American shop product than industrial primitive fetish— forgoes the invi- tation to shake and invert the sculpture (one of the plates in À bruit secret is inscribed on the bottom), but it picks up on the cognitive dynamic of Duchamp’s work, underscored in modern museum settings where the piece is displayed, unshakable, en vitrine. Apart from its visual, tactile, and sonic qualities, Duchamp’s sculpture is a black box in the philosophical sense, e Fate of Echo xxvii creating an epistemological puzzle and taunting its audience to speculate on the unknown object. Morris also relies on the audience’s mental engagement to relate the temporally discrepant sounds to the object in front of them and to think through the logical tautology of recursion that explains their raisons d’être. Equally important to conceptual art, Morris’s Card File from the following year restaged his box in linguistic terms. T e horizontally mounted drawer from a business filing cabinet sorts typed index cards in forty-three roughly alphabetized categories.13 Self-referential and cross-indexed, the cards note the circumstances of the work’s conception and construction. A less proce- dural example of descriptive selfreferentiality, Adrian Piper’s portfolio suite Here and Now (1968) contains eight-by-eight chessboard grids, empty except for typed phrases indicating their location. On one page, for instance, the third square from the bottom right encloses the following sentence: HERE:the sq uare area i s 3rd row f rom bottom, 3rd from ri ght side. Conceptual artists further realized that if an artwork could be self- descriptive and made of language, then that language could describe itself. Dan Graham’s Poem-Schema, for example, enumerates the formal and grammatical properties of its printed instantiation, with “the exact data in each particular instance” of its publication set “to correspond to the fact(s) of its published appearance.”14 As Graham explained it elsewhere: A page of Schema exists as a matter of fact materiality. . . . It is a measure of itself—as place. It takes its own measure—of itself as place, that is, placed two-dimensionally on (as) a page.15 Graham considered his template (included in this volume) to be a sche- matic model for “a set of poems whose component pages are specifically published as individual poems in various magazines.”16 For each particular publication, the editor of the periodical was to provide information about the physical support and typography, adjusting the tally accordingly. When the work was published in the inaugural issue of the British journal Artxxviii CRAIG DWORKIN Language, for instance, it was printed “off set cartridge” in a ten-point Press Roman face, so the entry listing the number of capitalized words, was “2.”17 T e same held for its appearance in the anthology Possibilities of Poetry, where it was printed in ten-point Aster type on Dondell paper stock.18 In another instance, for comparison, the number of capitalized words was calculated at four because it was printed in a Futura face on Wedgwood Coated Off set stock.19 T e entire process seems mechanical, but the answers are rarely as straightforward as they seem. Published in Aspen magazine, as “Poem, March 1966,” the text was printed in ten-point Univers 55 type on generically “dull

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cisely the same time Kosuth was mounting his series of photostat definitions, for example, John Baldessari exhibited a set of similarly ironic quotations, neatly painted in black block letters on primed canvas. Drawn from art theory and art appreciation textbooks, these quotations were presented in place of the kind of art they were meant to illustrate. Ventriloquizing the presump- tion that text itself could not be an artwork—the very position conceptual art like Baldessari’s was challenging—one canvas reads: “Do you sense how all the parts of a good / picture are involved with each other. Not / just placed side by side? Art is a creation / for the eye and can only be hinted at with / words.”28 Another, quoting from the same source, reinterrogates the status of a painting when its subject is indeed language, implying that traditional viewing habits may be inappropriate for conceptual art: COMPOSING ON A CANVAS StUDy tHE COMPOSItION OF PAINtINGS. ASK yOURSELF qUEStIONS WHEN StANDING IN FRONt OF A WELL COMPOSED PICtURE. WHAt FORMAt IS USED WHAt IS tHE PROPORtION OF HEIGHt tO WIDtH WHAt IS tHE CENtRAL ObjECt WHERE IS It SItUAtED HOW IS It RELAtED tO tHE FORMAt? WHAt ARE tHE MAIN DIRECtIONAL FORCES tHE MINOR ONES HOW ARE tHE SHADES OF DARK AND LIGHt DIStRIbUtED WHERE ARE tHE DARK SPOtS CONCENtRAtED tHE LIGHt SPOtS HOW ARE tHE EDGES OF tHE PICtURE DRAWN INtO tHE PICtURE ItSELF ANSWER tHESE qUEStIONS FOR yOURSELF WHILE LOOKING At A FAIRLy UNCOM- PLICAtED PICtURE.29 Yet another piece makes the same move in terms of presumptions about the viewer’s experience, disproving itself by means of its own unequivo- cal assertion: “a two dimensional / surface without any / articulation is a / xxxii CRAIG DWORKIN dead experience.” Baldessari has wittily articulated the sentence, quite liter- ally, through line breaks; in its original source, it happens to appear typeset intact across one full line of prose.30 A slightly later canvas, for another example of this logical short circuit of simultaneous assertion and negation, attempts to invert the Duchampian nominalist proposition with the oxy- moron of “art as idea” without an idea; running up against the fact that the rejection of a concept is itself a concept, the canvas reads: “everything is purged from this painting / but art, no ideas have entered this work.”31 Whatever their particular statements, all of these canvases also illustrate conceptual art’s impulse to distance the artist from a position of creatively original authorship.32 Not only are the texts unattributed quotations, but Baldessari did not even paint the canvases himself, and their production was deliberately impersonal and deaestheticized, suppressing the idiosyn- cractic in favor of the idiomatically vernacular. As with much conceptual art—such as Kosuth’s photocopies or Ed Ruscha’s influential photographic books from the 1960s—the visual rhetoric of Baldessari’s canvases mim- icked quotidian commercial or amateur processes rather than rarefied high- art modes. As Baldessari explained, “Someone else built and primed the canvases and took them to the sign painter . . . and the sign painter was instructed not to attempt to make attractive, artful lettering but to letter the information in the most simple way.”33 In his 1969 series Commis- sioned Paintings, Baldessari further removed himself from the creative process. Once again, others did the actual painting: sign painters for the lettering and amateur genre painters whom Baldessari hired to reproduce—“as faithfully as possible”—oil renditions of the snapshots he provided them. Although he had still taken the photographs himself, Baldessari outsourced the more fundamental Duchampian task of choosing. T e snapshots documented a friend pointing at quotidian objects that the friend had selected, and the painters were asked to choose their subject from among a number of those photographs.34 Commissioned Paintings also points to another important tactic by which conceptual art distanced the artist at an oblique remove from the work. Although the production of any artwork can be retroactively described in abstract terms (e.g., “apply oil paint with a brush to a stretched and primed cotton canvas”), in Baldessari’s case, the abstract procedure is an integral part of the final work and not merely an incidental means to an end. For the work as a whole to be eff ective, the conceptual formulation must be kept in mind along with any visual and mental considerations of the finished paintings. Like Graham’s poem, in which publishers carried e Fate of Echo xxxiii out the task of producing the work’s final form, conceptual artists often focused on the initial procedures to be followed—guidelines, parameters, and recipes—rather than the subsequent physical production. “When an artist uses a conceptual form of art,” as LeWitt explained, “it means that all of the planning and decisions are made beforehand and the execution is a perfunctory aff air. T e idea becomes a machine that makes the art.” To give a literal example of this mechanistic production of art, the score for György Ligeti’s 1962 Fluxus composition Poème symphonique (Symphonic Poem) consists of detailed instructions on the windings and oscillation settings for one hundred metronomes, which are then set ticking and allowed to run their course without intervention. Ligeti carefully maps out parameters, but he does not score individual notes, and the mechanical performance eliminates any subjective interpretation by musicians. As LeWitt explained this Cagean ethos of nonintervention: “to work with a plan that is pre-set is one way of avoiding subjectivity . . . the fewer decisions made in the course of completing the work the better.”35 LeWitt’s focus on a work’s abstract inception hints at conceptual art’s most daring wager. Having tested the propositions that the art object might be nominal, linguistic, invisible, and on a par with its abstract initial description, the next step was to venture that it could be dispensed with alto- gether. Lawrence Weiner’s 1968 exhibition Statements—an exhibit taking the form, significantly, of a catalog—contained two dozen self- descriptive pieces composed of short phrases, grammatically suspended by the past participle without agent or imperative, as if they had already been realized as soon as written (or read): “one aerosol can of enamel sprayed to conclusion directly upon the floor,” “two minutes of spray paint directly upon the floor from a standard aerosol can,” “one quart exterior green enamel thrown on a brick wall,” “one pint gloss white lacquer poured directly upon the floor and allowed to dry,” “an amount of bleach poured upon a rug and allowed to bleach,” “one standard dye marker thrown into the sea,” and so on. T e grammatical form with which these phrases float free of particular agents underscores Weiner’s insistence that his artworks existed as statements, fully suffi cient as they were printed, and not as particular enactments or unique objects. Although—like many Fluxus scores—they have subsequently been performed, as far as Weiner was concerned, the descriptive statements never needed to take any particular material instantiation. In his “Declaration of Intent,” formulated the following year, Weiner lays out this conceptual faith in three articles: xxxiv CRAIG DWORKIN 1. T e artist may construct the work. 2. T e work may be fabricated. 3. T e work need not be built.36 Here, again, the grammar does much of the work; in place of the necessity and obligation that would have been signaled by must, the

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Ister

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We will return to this point about collecting images, signs, or information, because the hypothesis that I wish to argue is that in the books it is collection that takes the place of landscape.

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Anne Moeglin-Delcroix

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Key moment

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out beginning or end. The absurdity of these positions is made apparent if we ask with St. Augustine, "What was God [the Eternal] doing before he made the world?" the answer being, of course, that inasmuch as time and the world presuppose each other and in terms of "creation" are "concreated", th,eword "before" in such a question has no meaning whatever. Hence it is commonly argued in Christian exegesis that ev adXf, in principio, does not imply a "bieginning in time" but an origin in the First Principle; and from 2 Cf. St. Augustine, De ordine 2. 51: "In this world of sense it is indeed necessary to examine carefully what time and place are, so that what delights in a part, whether of place or time, may be understood to be far less beautiful than the whole of which it is a portion". 2 this the logical deductionfollows that God [the Eternal] is creating the world now, as much as he ever was. The metaphysical doctrine simply contrasts time as a continuumwith the ,eternitythat is not in time and so cannot properly be called everlasting, but coincides with the real present or now of which temporal experience is impossible. Here confusion only arises because for any consiousness functioning in terms of time and space, "now" succeeds "now" without interruption, and there seems to be an endless series of nows, collectively adding up to "time". This confusion can be eliminated if we realise that none of these nows has any duration and that, as measures, all alike are zeros, of which a "sum" is unthinkable. It is a matter of relativity; it is "we" who move, while the Now is unmoved, and only seems to move,-much as the sun onlv seems to rise and set because the earth revolves. The problem that arises is that of the locus of "reality" (satyam; TOOV; ens) whether reality or being can be predicated of any "thing" 3 that exists in the flux 3 The words "real" and "thing" have an interest of their own. "Real" is connected with Lat. res, and probably reor, "think", "estimate"; and "thing" with "think", denken. This would imply that appearances are endowed with reality and a quasi-permanence to the extent that we name them; and this has an intimate bearing on the nature of language itself, of which the primary application is always to concrete things, so that we must resort to negative terms (via negativa) when '.we have to speak of an ultimate reality that is not any thing. That a "thing" is an appearance to which a name is given is precisely what is implied by the Sanskrit and Pali expression nIzma-rupa (name, or idea, and phenomenon, or 3 of time and is therefore never self-same, or only of entities or an allinclusive entity not in time and therefore always the same. A brief discussion of this problem will provide a setting for the treatment of the traditional doctrine of time and eternity. Sanskrit satyam (from as, to "be"), like T6Ov and ovoia (from dE/i, to "be"), is the "real", "true", or "good",-ens et bonum convertuntur. In these senses, satyam can be predicated of existents4, for which body) of which the reference is to all dimensioned objects, all the accountable individualities susceptible of statistical investigation; that which is ultimately real being, properly speaking, "nameless". "Name-and-appearance in combination with consciousness are to be found only where there are birth and age and death, or falling away and uprising, only where there is signification, interpretation, and cognition, only where there is motion involving a cognizibility as such or such" (D. 2. 63). The Vedantic position is that all differentiation (naturation or qualification) is a matter of terminology (vacarambhanam vikarah, CU. 6. 1. 4-6, cf. S. 2. 67 viihninassa arammanam); and in the same way for Plato, "the same account must be given of the nature that assumes all bodies; one cannot say of the modi- fications that they are, "for they change even while we speak of them", but only that they are "such and such", if even to say that much is permissible (Timaeus 50 A, B). In this passage, the "nature referred to is that primary and formless matter that can be informed,... nature as being that by which the Generator generates" (Damascene, De fid. Orth. 1.18) or "by which the Father begets" (St. Thomas, Sum. Theol. 1. 41. 5). 4 Throughout the present article, "exist", "existent", etc. are used in the strict sense of ex alio sistens, and to be distinguished from "being" or "essence" in seipso sistens. The distinction goes back at least to Plato's opposition of yEvess - bhava to ovoia = astita, survives in St. Augustine (De Trin. 4 "things" in all their variety the collective term is "name-and-shape" (ndma-rupe; o6Ayo; xatl 6 ,uoepq, Aristotle, Met. 8.1. 6): and by this (relative) truth, that of the name-and-shapeby which God is present in the world (SB 11.2.3.4,5), and as which it is differen-

tiated (BU. 1.4.7; CU. 6. 3.2), "the Immortal, the Spirit of Life is concealed" (etad amrtam satyena channam; prano vd amrtam, namarupe satyam, tdbhydm ayam pranas channah, BU. 1.6. 3), just as the Sun, the Truth, is concealed by his rays (JUB. 1.3. 6), which he is asked to dispel so that his "fairer form" may be seen (BU. 6.15, Isa Up. 15,16). In the same way, the powers of the soul are "true" or "real", but "the Truth that the Self is, is the Reality of their reality, or Truth of their truth" (satyasya satyam... teSdm esa satyam, BU. 2. 1. 20); it is "that Reality, that Self, that thou art" (CU.6. 10.3). In this absolute sense, also, Truthor Reality (satyam) is synonymous with Dharma, b6xacoovvr, Justice, Lex Aeterna (BU. 1.4. 14), one of His names "who alone is today today and tomorrow" (BU. 1. 5. 23): and he only who knows this Ultimate Truth (param&rtha-satyam) can be called a master- speaker (ativadati, CU. 7.16. 7 with Comm.), "nor ever can our intellect be sated, unless that Truth shine upon it, beyond which no truth has range" (Dante, Paradiso 4. 124-126) 5. 6. 10. 11), and is fully dealt with by St.Thomas (De ente et essentia). 6 The Vedantic and Buddhist distinction of empirical knowledge, valid for practical purposes, and prob-able, from the intellectually valid and axiomatic truth of first principles is the 5 It is, then, from the relative truth of name-and-form that the Comprehensor is liberated (namarupad vimuk- tah, Mungd.Up. 3. 2. 8); however it may be a valid truth for practical purposes, it is a falsity or unreality (anrtam) when compared with the "Truth of the truth, Truth absolutely, and it is by this falsity that our True Desires" are obscured. In other words, temporal are both real and unreal. The Vedanta does not in fact, as has so often been asserted, deny an existence of temporalia,-"for the distinct suchness (anyat- tattvam) of this world of affairs, evidenced by all cri- teria, cannot be denied" (BrSBh. 2. 2. 31), "the non- existence of external objects is refuted by the fact of our apprehension of them" (nabhiva upalabdheh, BrSBh. 2.2.28). That

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missing file

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THE problem of technics and its relation to Culture and to History presents itself for the first time only in the nineteenth century. The eighteenth, with its fundamental scepticism — that doubt that was wellnigh despair — had posed the question of the meaning and value of Culture. It was a question that led it to ever wider and more disruptive questions and so created the possibility for the twentieth, for our own day, of looking upon the entirety of world-history as a problem. The eighteenth century, the age of Robinson Crusoe and of Jean Jacques Rousseau, of the English park and of pastoral poetry, had regarded “original” man himself as a sort of lamb of the pastures, a peaceful and virtuous creature until Culture came to ruin him. The technical side of him was completely overlooked, or, if seen at all, considered unworthy of the moralist’s notice. But after Napoleon the machine-technics of Western Europe grew gigantic and, with its manufacturing towns, its railways, its steamships, it has forced us in the end to face the problem squarely and seriously. What is the significance of technics? What meaning within history, what value within life, does it possess, where — socially and metaphysically — does it stand? There were many answers offered to these questions, but at bottom these were reducible to two. On the one side there were the idealists and ideologues, the belated stragglers of the humanistic Classicism of Goethe’s age, who regarded things technical and matters economic as standing outside, or rather beneath, “Culture.” Goethe himself, with his grand sense of actuality, had in Faust II sought to probe this new fact-world to its deepest depths. But even in Wilhelm von Humboldt we have the beginnings of that anti-realist, philological outlook upon history which in the limit reckons the values of a historical epoch in terms of the number of the pictures and books that it produced. A ruler was regarded as a significant figure only in so far as he passed muster as a patron of learning and the arts — what he was in other respects did not count. The State was a continual handicap upon the true Culture that was pursued in lecture-rooms, scholars’ dens

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con- geals around the date itself.9 With the emergence of Language writing, however, there was a move from the datable event to forms of nonnarration that had no other temporal index than the relation of words and sentences on the page; the denial or stoppage of historical time led to the spatial form of the work. What resulted, my second register, is a paradoxical combination of writing as nonnarrative and as event (in both the event of writing and the event of a kind of writing) as a hybrid form: so Language writing was an event of nonnarration for anyone experiencing it in the period in which it was written. In my third register, narrative contains nonnarrative, but in such a way that nonnarrative’s temporal and historical irresolution enables narrative’s determination of history in its periodizing frames.10 The Grand Piano is “driven” by nonnarrativity but as a narrative form contains and periodizes two forms of nonnarrative: dated and evental. There is not only a sliding scale between 1) nonnarrative datelessness, 2) the shifting date, 3) narrative, and 4) the historical period, but a dialectical relationship between them. In this sense, a fundamental device of The Grand Piano occurs in the alternation of moments of atemporal, nonnarrative poetry or prose as index to a date or event within narrative forms that frame them. Poetry as nonnarrative and subjective (“present”) becomes datable and historical as a result, while neither presentism nor periodization can be understood as its master narrative. The Conceptual Date The seemingly atemporal and one-dimensional date paintings of On Kawara are exemplary of conceptual art’s combination of presentism and 134 J N T periodization. This signature series of works—formally known as Today (1966–), a continuing sequence of unique paintings in five preselected sizes that present the date of their manufacture in white, hand-drawn lettering in the date style and language of the country in which they are fabricated, on a flat, monochrome background, stored in boxes with a newspaper page from that date—have become icons of the conceptual art movement, displayed in nearly every significant exhibition of conceptual art.11 As “dated” works that present the moment of their fabrication as a past index of the artist’s work, the date paintings combine both narrative and nonnarrative as immanent in the form of the work and as inextricably linked to its historical periodization. However, it is the nonidentity between radical present and historical period in On Kawara’s date paintings, the gap between them rather than any positive figuration of their historical moment or frame, that makes them historical. I see the date paintings as exemplary of the historical content of conceptual art, even as certain of their features (the meticulous craft evidenced in the details of their construction; their initial referencing of historical markers; the epochal break they make with the artist’s past work; and their production in a temporal series) are atypical of conceptual art in a formalist account (which locates “concept” in the absence of form). In such an account, conceptual art is defined formally as visual art that abandons its material substrate in order to question the nature of art as a concept or practice; a work of conceptual art may be nothing more than an idea for a work of art, but never actually be made, and it need contain no historical framing at all. Form and history connect, however, through the narrative of art history itself, in the declaration of a style, genre, movement, or period of artistic production of the New; the conventional account of conceptual art would thus begin with the first works that questioned the material substrate of the work in order to reveal the nature of art as a concept or practice. Problems for art history arise, however, when numerous works of Marcel Duchamp from the 1910s and 1920s (the urinal; the ready- mades; the rotoreliefs and their mottos; the notes to the “large glass,” and so on) anticipate the periodizing history of conceptual art that begins in the early 1960s, in one version with the declaration of Robert Rauschenberg’s Portrait of Iris Clert: “This is a portrait of Iris Clert if I say so.”12 The abstract and formalist periodization that follows, as well, is contested by more plural and historicist narratives that conceptual art is not simply determined Presentism and Periodization 135 by “the dematerialization of the art object” but exists within a field of practice, or at the intersection of several practices, which foreground its concerns with dematerialization and concept.13 If the 1970 “Information” show at the Museum of Modern Art introduced the first qualification, by seeing conceptual art within a range of related practices, the 1999 “Global Con- ceptualism” exhibition at the Queens Museum broadened conceptual art from its assumed Anglo-American origins to a transnational phenomenon.14 This broader field of practice has, in my view, irrevocably altered the auteur-ist, Anglo-American, formalist/idealist account of conceptual art, positioning On Kawara’s transnational, historicist, materialist date paintings as exemplary. My own encounter with On Kawara’s date paintings—and my emerging understanding of their seriousness over a decades-long series of en- counters—itself has a narrative. I had been aware of his works since the previously mentioned “Information” show in 1970, and I experienced them with even greater impact at the 1999 “Global Conceptualism” show and at Documenta XI in 2002. The concern with dates and events in On Kawara’s work is thus readily inserted into a historical narrative, one that with very little effort could be developed into a periodizing framework. The shifting indices of On Kawara’s date paintings give rise to a range of historical meanings that become available through the multiple temporal and spatial forms of their exhibition and reception.15 As shifters, the date paintings construct and iterate an important paradox between the date as “floating signifier” and the historical frames they evoke and in which they are experienced.16 Just so, on Saturday, Janu- ary 14, 2006, returning from the University of Göttingen, where I had concluded my four months’ stay in Germany and presented a conference paper, I stopped at the Frankfurt Museum of Modern Art on the way to the airport (see “Return to DE”). There, I encountered several of On Kawara’s date paintings and drawings in Spinnwebzeit: Die EBay- Vernetzung [Spinning the Web: The E-Bay Connection], an exhibition that juxtaposed works from the museum’s permanent collection with items purchased on E-Bay (fig.1).17 This show, one of the more interesting of many innovative recent exhibitions in Germany, created a series of interpretive frameworks between the museum’s collection of “high” works of art (however conceptualist or postmodern) and “low” collectible objects. For On Kawara, a historical framework was created by the juxtapo136 J N T Fig. 1. Copy of Gertrude Stein’s The Making of Americans (1934) acquired on E-Bay and exhibited at Spinnwebzeit: Die EBay-Vernetzung [Spinning the Web: The E-Bay Connec- tion], Museum der Moderne Kunst, Frankfurt-am-Main, 2005. Photo: author. sition of one of his date paintings (July 1, 1974) with a copy of Time magazine accessioned on E-Bay (dated August 20, 1945; fig. 2). The juxtapo- sition of the date painting with a record of a punctual event (if there ever was one, the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki) created a complex in- terweaving of interpretive frames. In the Time cover, the abstract graphic—the Japanese sun emblem being crossed out by the American X—reduces human tragedy to a cipher and suggested similarly negative interpretations of conceptual art. Just so, in its dominant, Anglo-American form, conceptual art may connect to American war crimes as a distancing form of abstraction that conveys cultural supremacy and denial of humanity. The date paintings thus might refer in some way to the form of denial of the Time cover. Is this a correct reading, or even a possible one? Given this juxtaposi- tion, how might we read the date paintings otherwise as historical? In the most negative account, conceptual art as abstract is rendered equivalent to the denial of a traumatic event occurring at a specific date—but of course, the date represented is not that date. On Kawara’s date paintings also can be read in an opposite sense, as a reenactment or repetition after the event. Presentism and Periodization 137 Fig. 2. Cover of Time magazine (20 August 1945) acquired on E-Bay and exhibited at Spinnwebzeit: Die EBay-Vernetzung. Photo: author. Such a reading is supported by a series of drawings of burn victims from Hiroshima and Nagasaki in the next gallery in the museum, representing On Kawara’s pre-conceptualist work (1953–56) and published as Thanatophanies in 1995.18 The drawings, which evoke trauma in form and content, access similar psychic material as the surrealist-inflected drawings On Kawara made before his turn to conceptual art and his refusal to return to Japan or to use Japanese characters in his work. A plausi138 J N T ble sequence of interpretations, then, connects the historical event of Hi- roshima and Nagasaki to the working through of trauma in the drawings to the

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The Weak Universalism

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Access Provided by University of Utah at 06/26/11 1:52AM GMT

Presentism and Periodization in Language Writing, Conceptual Art, and Conceptual Writing - Barrett Watten In this essay, I contrast three movements of contemporary art practice involving language—Language writing, conceptual art, and the recently emerged movement of conceptual writing—in terms of how each formally and historically encodes concepts of presentism and periodization. While each of these movements constructs a version of “the present,” or sees itself as an art of the “present time,” in formally and historically specific ways, in each presentism and periodization are differently implicated in the work’s formal construction. While periodization as a concept is well understood (after Michel Foucault, Fredric Jameson, and Hayden White), “presentism” is a recently activated and contested term, reflecting specific debates in cultural, gender, and digital studies.1 In this discussion, presentism will stand for an interpretive practice in which object and interpreter are not historically framed, even if temporal indices of present time are in- voked (or not); periodization provides historical framing for an interpretive practice. Presentism thus connects to nonnarrative representation, in the sense that both rely on the suspension or refusal of narrative, while periodization requires narrative frames. (I propose to include the often-heard usage of presentism as “the interpretation of past events in terms of present concerns” within the more general sense of interpretation that does not distinguish between past and present.) JNT: Journal of Narrative Theory 41.1 (Spring 2011): 125–161. Copyright © 2011 by JNT: Journal of Narrative Theory. 126 J N T

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In Language writing, I am interested in how nonnarrative forms as presentist are embedded in periodizing historical narratives, a comple- mentary perspective to how nonnarrative forms may themselves be historical. As combining both the objective and subjective historicity of nonnarrative, conceptual artist On Kawara’s date paintings are a crux for my discussion of the historicity of nonnarrative (or a presentism of history), given their referential shifting between the time of production (the day on which they were made) and subsequent historical frames for their represented dates as historical. On Kawara’s citation of historical contexts for these dated works, newspaper clippings placed “under era- sure”—not exhibited with the date paintings but stored in boxes fabricated individually for them— become formal registers of the historical time frames in which they are made. Following my consideration of On Kawara’s conceptualism, I discuss the positioning of the absolute present as the “date,” within a series of dates in conceptual writing (after White’s discussion of the narrative forms of the annal and chronicle in Content of the Form). In the recent emergence of literary conceptualism, I see a historical invocation of the language strategies of conceptual art that paradoxically provides a narrative frame for conceptual writing’s claim to be purely an art of the present, to represent nothing but the New, at the intersection of the historically prior practices of Language writing and conceptual art. Finally, I place all three nonnarrative genres at the intersection of aesthetic form, time, and history, re- newing an earlier call for a historical explanation of practices of nonnarration.2 Writing the Present Today is Saturday, December 18, 2010. As I begin work on the revised version of my article, it is now 10:10 AM. I began writing the first draft of this essay on Sun-

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day, October 18, 2009 and first presented it in public on Saturday, October 24, 2009 at 8:45 AM. The present version will circu- late to the reader on Wednesday, December 22, 2010; it will be revised on receipt of readersâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; comments on Saturday, January 15, 2011; it will be published in print and digital form on day/month/date/year; and you are reading it on day/ month/date/year. The relation of the actual date on which these sentences were written, spoken, or read to the dates as Presentism and Periodization 127 represented here will vary on a sliding scale from identical to yet-to-be- determined, while the frame of reference that deter

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Overview 1.1 Books and journals as the core of scholarly publishing. Printed-and-bound books and journals and their electronic counterparts constitute the core of scholarly publishing. Book-length works in particular-in their breadth and variety, not to mention their long history-provide an overview of the anatomy of a scholarly work that, in conjunction with the discussion of journals (see 1.72-110), can be usefully applied to other types of published works. 1.2 Electronic publishing. Electronic publication of scholarly books and journals in various formats is increasingly common. Most journals at Chicago have implemented a simultaneous print and electronic publishing model (see 1.72)-a model that has become the industry standard. For books, if print has remained the most common format, publishers are increasingly gravitating toward a simultaneous print and electronic model. In general, electronic books tend to emulate the organization and structure of their printed-and-bound counterparts, whether they are offered as page images or in an e-book format, proprietary or not-and whether or not they incorporate hyperlinks, search engines, and other features that are unique to the electronic environment. In fact, the industry-wide goal for e-book versions of printed monographs has been one of approximating on-screen the experience of reading the printed book. The discussion on the parts of a bookthough it assumes electronic publication is an option for any scholarly book-therefore includes special considerations for electronic book formats only where these might differ from those for print. But see 1.11117. The Parts of a Book Introduction 1.3 Rectos and versos. Publishers refer to the trimmed sheets of paper that you turn in a printed-and-bound book as leaves, and a page is one side of a leaf. The front of the leaf, the side that lies to the right in an open book, is called the recto. The back of the leaf, the side that lies to the left when the leaf is turned, is the verso. Rectos are

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Kill your darlings

(https://www.wikipedia.org/wiki/Makasiini)

Makasiini on monimerkityksinen sana. Useimmat sen merkityksistä liittyvät varastoimiseen tai säilyttämiseen. Nimitys on vanhahtava. Makasiini voi tarkoittaa; erillistä varastorakennusta, kaupan tai tehtaan (ulko)varastoa, tullin varastoa eli tullimakasiinia, pakkahuonetta, erityisesti kirjaston tai arkiston asiakkailta suljettua varastoa, varastointiin liittyvää organisaatiota, kuten Suomen armeijassa sotien aikana käytetyssä nimityksessä elintarvikekenttämakasiini (lyhenne EKM), jonka nimitys on johdettu varastorakennuksen nimityksestä, kiväärin patruunalipasta, aikakauslehteä, makasiinityyppistä lehteä (englanniksi magazine) Makasiini-lehteä; vuosina 1978–90 ilmestynyttä sisustuslehteä, makasiiniohjelmaa, joka on televisiossa tai radiossa esitettävä useasta lyhyestä ohjelmaosuudesta koostuva kokonaisuus, varastotilaa laivassa, tiettyä rakennusta, kuten VR:n makasiinit (Helsinki) tai Peltimakasiini (Tampere), jolloin sana makasiini on osa nimeä, entinen halpahalliyritys (Maxi-Makasiini), joka yhdistyi Tokmanniin

(http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=magazine)

The original sense is almost obsolete; meaning “periodical journal” dates from the publication of the rst one, “Gentleman’s Magazine,” in 1731, which was so called from earlier use of the word for a printed list of military stores and information, or in a gu- rative sense, from the publication being a “storehouse” of information.

magazine (n.) 1580s, “place for storing goods, especially military ammunition,” from Middle French magasin “warehouse, depot, store”, from Italian magazzino, from Arabic makhazin, plural of makhzan “storehouse” (source of Spanish almacén “warehouse, magazine”), from khazana “to store up.”

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thing prosaic and stupid and beneath notice, although in fact it was in daily demand. To mention a great merchant or a great engineer in the same breath with poets and thinkers was almost an act of lèse-majesté to “true” Culture. Consider, for instance,

and studios. War was scarcely believed in, being but a relic of bygone barbarism, while economics was some-

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PREFACE IN THE winter and spring of 1031,1 was invited to give a series of ten lectures at Harvard University. The subject chosen was the Philosophy of Art; the lectures are the origin of the present volume. The Lectureship was founded in memory of William James and I esteem it a great honor to have this book associated even indirectly with his distinguished name. It is a pleasure, also, te recall, in connection with the lectures, the unvarying kindness and hospitality of my colleagues in the department of philosophy at Harvard. I am somewhat embarrassed in an effort to acknowledge indebtedness to other writers on the subject. Some aspects of it may be inferred from authors mentioned or quoted in the text. I have read on the subject for many years, however, more or less widely in English literature, somewhat less in French and still less in German, and I have absorbed much from sources which I cannot now directly recall. Moreover, my obligations to a number of writers are much greater than might be gathered from allusions to them in the volume itself. My indebtedness to those who have helped me directly can be more easily stated. Dr. Joseph Ratner gave me a number of valuable references. Dr. Meyer Schapiro was good enough to read the twelfth and thirteenth chapters and to make suggestions which I have freely adopted. Irwin Edman read a large part of the book in manuscript and I owe much to his suggestions and criticism. Sidney Hook read many of the chapters, and their present form is largely the result of discussions with him; this statement is especially true of the chapters on criticism and the last chapter. My greatest indebtedness is to Dr. A. C. Barnes. The chapters have been gone over one by one with him, and yet what I owe to his comments and sugvgestions on this account is but a small measure of my debt. I have had the benefit of con versations with him through a period of years, many of which occurred in the pzesence of the unrivaled collection of pictures he has assembled. The influence of these conversations, together with that of his books, has been a chief factor in shaping m y own thinking about the philosophy of esthetics. Whatever is sound in this volume is due more than I can say to the great educational work carried on in the Barnes Foundation. That work is of a pioneer quality comparable to the best that has been done in any field

during the present generation, that of science not ex cepted. I should be glad to think of this volume as one phase of the widespread influence the Foundation is exercising. I am indebted to the Barnes Foundation for permission to reproduce a number of illustrations and to Barbara and Willard Morgan for the photographs from which the reproductions were made. J. D. CONTENTS PREF ACE vii I. THE LIVE CREATURE 3 n. THEL IVECREATUREANDâ&#x20AC;?ETHERIALTH INGSâ&#x20AC;? 20 III. IV. V. VI. Vn. VIII. IX. X. XI. HAVING AN EXPERIENCE 35 THE ACT OF EXPRESSION 5* THE EXPRESSIVE OBJECT 82 SUBSTANCE AND FORM xo6 THE NATURAL HISTORY OF FORM 134 THE ORGANIZATION OF ENERGIES 162 THE COMMON SUBSTANCE OF THE ARTS 187 THE VARIED SUBSTANCE OF THE ARTS 214 THE HUMAN CONTRIBUTIONzB Y ONE of the ironic perversities that often attend the course of affairs,the existenceof the works of art upon which forma tion of an esthetic theory depends has become an obstruction to theory about them. For one reason, these works are products that exist externally and physically. In common conception, the work of art is often identified with the building, book, painting, or statue in its existence apart from human experience. Since the actual work of art is what the product does with and in experience, the resultis not favorable to understanding. In addition, the very perfection of some of these products, the prestige they possess because of a long history of unquestioned admiration, creates conventions that get in the way of fresh insight. When an art product once attains classic status, it somehow becomes isolated from the humanconditions under which it wasbroughtinto being and from the human consequences it engenders in actual life- experience. When artistic objects are separated from both conditions of origin and operation in experience, a wall is built around them that renders almost opaque their general significance, with which esthetic theory deals. Art is remitted to a separate realm, where it is cut off from that association with the materials

that were a demand for the building and that were carried to fulfillment in it; it is not an examination such as might be carried on by a sociologist in search for material relevant to his purpose. The one who sets out to theorize about the esthetic experience embodied in the Parthenon must realize in thought what the people into whose lives it entered had in common, as creators and as those who were satisfied with it, with people in our own homes and on our own streets. In order to understand the esthetic in its ultimate and approved forms, one must begin with it in the raw; in the events and scenes that hold the attentive eye and ear of man, arous ing his interest and affording him enjoyment as he looks and THE LIVE CREATURE 5 listens: the sights that hold the crowdâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;the fire-engine rushing by; the machines excavating enormous holes in the earth; the human-fly climbing the steeple-side; the men perched high in air on girders, throwing and catching red-hot

bolts. The sources of art in human experience will be learned by him

sees

who

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and aims of every other form of human effort, undergoing, and achievement. A primary task is thus imposed upon one who undertakes to write upon the philosophy of the fine arts. This task is to restore con tinuity between the refined and intensified forms of experience that are works of art and the everyday events, doings, and suffer ings that are universally recognized to constitute experience. Mountain peaks do not float unsupported; they do not even just rest upon the earth. They are the earth in one of its manifest oper ations. It is the business of those who are concerned with the theory of the earth, geographers and geologists, to make this fact 4 ART AS EXPERIENCE evident in its various implications., The theorist who would deal philosophically with fine art has a like task to accomplish. If one is willing to grant this position, even if only by way of temporary experiment, he will see that there follows a conclu sion at first sight surprising. In order to understand the meaning of artistic products, we have to forget them for a time, to turn aside from them and have recourse to the ordinary forces and conditions of experience that we do not usually regard as esthetic. We must arrive at the theory of art by means of a detour. For theory is concerned with understanding, insight, not without ex clamations of admiration, and stimulation of that emotional out burstoftencalledappreciation.Itisquitepossibletoenjoy flowers in their colored form and delicate fragrance without knowing any thing about plants theoretically. But if one sets out to understand the flowering of plants, he is committed to finding out something about the interactions of soil, air, water and sunlight that con dition the growth of plants. By common consent, the Parthenon is a great work of art. Yet it has esthetic standing only as the work becomes an experience for a human being. And, if one is to go beyond per sonal enjoyment into the formation of a theory about that large republic of art of which the building is one member, one has to be willing at some point in his reflections to turn from it to the bustling, arguing, acutely sensitive Athenian citizens, with civic sense identified with a civic religion, of whose experience the temple was an expression, and who built it not as a work of art but as a civic commemoration. The turning to them is as human beings who had needs

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makhazan

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introduction

the gold of

cleaning up in front

the colonial

language,

of oneâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s house,

thing

the luster of scybala

heaping against the wall

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viii

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HISTORY OF

shit

DOMINIQUE L APORTE

Loneliness of the Project Room

translation by Nadia Benabid and Rodolphe el-Khoury, with an introduction by Rodolphe el-Khoury A DOCUMENTS BOOK

This translation © 2000 Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Documents Magazine, Inc. French edition originally published in 1978 under the title Histoire de la merde (Prologue), © 1993 Christian Bourgois E´diteur All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means (including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval) without permission in writing from the publisher. This book was set in Filosofia Regular by Graphic Composition, Inc. and was printed and bound in the United States of America. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Laporte, Dominique-Gilbert, 1949–1984. [Histoire de la merde. English] History of shit / Dominique Laporte ; translated by Nadia Benabid and Rodolphe el-Khoury ; with an introduction by Rodolphe el-Khoury. p.

cm.

“A Documents book.” Includes bibliographical references and index.

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ISBN 0-262-12225-1 (hc : alk. paper) 1. Feces—Miscellanea. GT2835.L3613

I. Title.

2000

394—dc21 99-046032

To the young Flaubert, for the beautiful explanation

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â&#x20AC;˘

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Who’s Last The Who MCA Records BY KURT LODER February 28, 1985 With Keith Moon on drums, the Who was one of the most exciting live acts in rock history. With ex-Small Faces drummer Kenney Jones slotted into the band after Moon’s death in 1978, it became a professional touring unit — still capable of considerable fire on a good night, but never on the scale of its early years. This is not to slight Jones; Moon was simply irreplaceable. Who’s Last captures the group at what was claimed to be the end of its eighteen-year career, with reformed alcoholic Pete Townshend and company traversing North America on a 1982 tour sponsored by a U.S. beer company. At the time, the motivation behind this “last tour” seemed dubious: the band ran through each night’s set with very little variation, almost by rote, its once-mighty roar nearly eclipsed by the sound of money being raked in. As a document of that tour, Who’s Last is an appropriately crass artifact.

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To put it bluntly, the Who never sounded worse — more impotent and eviscerated — than on this dismal double album. The drum sound is unbelievably dinky and the vocals are a complete mess throughout. Townshend manages to blast through the hideous mix in “Won’t Get Fooled Again,” and John Entwistle’s rich, meaty bass tones and triphammer attack remain marvels of the hard-rock form; but several of the sixteen songs here are available in far superior live versions on such albums as Live at Leeds and the soundtracks of Woodstock and The Kids Are Alright, and even the most casual comparison with those previous LPs exposes Who’s Last as the disgraceful cash-in that it is. Most appalling of all are the liner notes, a noxious spew of self-aggrandizing superlatives and tacky ticket-sale statistics, capped by an assertion that the album is “offered as a token of appreciation” to the band’s “fantastic fans” — as if they were giving this sucker away. I can’t think of another band as committed and allegedly idealistic as the Who that has ended its career on so sour and sickening a note. From The Archives Issue 442: February 28, 1985

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The last films developed in WhoÂ´s next Lab in Helsinki by Olli.

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Eternal index

Additional text only, Additional text only. Additional text only, Additional text only nly. Additional text only, Additional text only. Additional text only, Additional text only.

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The Technique of the Present Jean-Luc Nancy

1. technique. This technique, that Poetry, before being the name of a particular art, is the generic name of art. Techné poiétiké: productive to another thing or a use, but with a is, this art, this calculated operation, this procedure, this artifice produces something not with a view presents and exposes it. view to its very production, that is, its exposition. The pro-duction of the thing puts the thing forward, the contingence of a passing moment, a To expose is to depart from a simple position, which is always also a deposition, a relinquishing of necessary presence. The word poiesis is circumstance or a point of view. What is exposed is placed in the order of absolute, immutable and Art is disposition. It disposes the thing derived from a word family that designates ordering, arrangement, or disposition. Poetry disposes. according to the order of presence. It is the productive technique of presence. prae-est. It is put forward or in Presence is not a quality or a property of the thing. Presence is the act by which the thing is put forward: origins, relations, process, front of its nature as a thing, and of everything which immerses this nature in the world of its connections: in its unfurling within these relations. finalities and becomings. The nature of the thing is in its birth, as the word “nature” indicates, and a thing as it passes. In this subtracts that act the is presence But It can subsist only in this movement, and its permanence is in the passing. is, all the reality of the res – in the single way it subtracts the thing from its thingness, or it withdraws the thingness from the thing – that foregrounding, in this single advancement. in time in relation to a past, is immediThis advancement is that of the present. The present is not ahead in time, for that which is ahead time is nothing: it is pure time, the pure ately behind in relation to a future. Unless the contrary is true. But in either sense, the present in longer” to “not yet”, is a passage without present of time, and thus its pure presence, that is, the negativity of the passing. From “already no all things. pause, a step not taken, neither disposed nor exposed, inexposable, only and ceaselessly deposing question which the arts never cease On Kawara’s question is how this inexposable can be exposed. (In a certain sense, it is perhaps a pure conjunction of passing and to take up and pass between themselves: how to grasp the ungraspable of passing, how to grasp the presence, of fleeing and stasis?) its course, but in its most intimate The present of presence is not in time, it is ahead of time, in front of time. Or it is within it, not in out and inexposes itself. Space does not heart or hollow. It is pure time subtracted from temporality: the space in which pure time opens time, distends time, distending the very represent time, like a line that would be the immobile figure of a mobile process, but space opens Space is thus the origin of time. It is itself. moment to expose this present that does not pass, and that is time itself, negativity imposed for time, the simultaneity of its spacing. simultaneously its point of nullity and the whole extension of its successivity. It is the opening of It is not in nature. In nature, there is On Kawara’s art is a productive technique of this spacing, which, in effect, does not produce itself. nature: in a technique, in art. only the passage, the passing or the pass of time. Only outside nature can there be time itself. Outside – in this “outside” that is not another The spacing of time, or space opening time as such and as a totality, is before time, outside of time A place is always the curving or place, because it is outside all places, but which is the taking-place of place in general and of all places. a curving of this very within. There is rather: or – spacing absolute within outlets) and thresholds its (with closure certain a of collecting thing), there is no world in which thus no place for the pure spacing presupposed by every place. In the same manner (and it’s the same puts in place any possible place, does, it what or is, it what the creation of the world takes place. Thus creation does not take (its) place. But and any taking-place.

How, despite everything, can creation itself or absolute spacing be put in place? How can time leave skill can be used?

time? What ruse, what detour, what

On Kawara’s art proposes a technique to put in place spacing itself, to put forward and expose spacing contour, the frame of a place, in its local color.

itself according to the curve, the

hollow in time and space. For within time, the spacing of time does not present itself. Space-time itself does not open its creative technique must be used for that: a technique, in sum, to recreate the creation that has not taken place.

calendars put chronometric techniques There must be a technique, just as there must be a technique to measure passing time. Clocks and its opening, preceding and spanning to work. They measure the number of time. But here is a chronometry that measures time’s spacing, its gap. It is chronomorphic poiesy.

2. Between the two, the space where we are: we On Kawara gathers the time of men, measurers of time. A million years back, a million years ahead. the present of he who makes the work, and who here now, as much as and as everyone, at every moment and in every place. But everyone, also, in withdraws from it as he opens it, who withdraws from it as he exposes it. – in the totality of its span and sway. Two million years do not constitute a history: they are history itself – along with prehistory and posthistory heaping together of culture and barbarity, nor Not history as a grandiose or confused movement of the destiny of peoples, nor as the monumental history, presentified history. as an adventure of events, but history as the simultaneous presence of its millions of histories, present the recollection of humanity past and humanity In Greek, the meaning of historia is a collection or recollection of occurrences. On Kawara exposes of years is in itself merely the logarithmic index of yet to come, subtracted from memory and expectation. The collection of a considerable number is not a count, it is the numeral or the code of “million” The pass. will that those and passed have that those of number prodigous the monstrous or past not yet arrived, unnamed, not anonymous, the incommensurable, in the shape of a common measurement. All are present together, already bound in a unique, complex collection: not “men” but representatives of the present. of presence: makers of steles, stanzas and Those who open space-time each time, those who from within nature distance nature, the technicians artisans, artificers. instants. They are there grasped in their formidable absence, indistinguishable and unfigurable, artists, numerals of a computation that refers to no There is nothing to read in this long collection, nothing of their histories, nothing but the exhausting is used, but its only function is as a universal founding or revolutionary event, to no feast or celebration. (Of course, the western Christian calendar B.C. or A.D. no longer have sense, but are indicating technique: in itself, it is merely the technical dissolution of its occidental specificity, and place once a year, and here, it is the year itself takes which that solemn: the of idea very the is solemnity only The location.) of codes formal merely insofar as it returns, identical and different, the solemn return of the annual. is history with its great rhythmic irregularities; The year presents the annular space of a cycle of life and death. Beyond this, there is no cycle, there from another but the difference of a numeral, and but still further beyond, there is the simultaneous eternal present. Nothing distinguishes one year sameness. nothing presents the perennial but the simultaneity, here, of all these differences. Their self-same voices of a man and a woman, recorded and What can thus be read in this collection – and what is read aloud, pronounced by the alternating no signification. They constitute an order. They broadcast in this very hall – are the numerals that form the numbers of the years. The numbers have in the sexed difference of the voices. The readforce a reading of tvhe ordering of difference in identity, like that of the identity of their enunciation ordered by its writing, by the reproduction ing of the collection – this reading that is more or less impossible and nonetheless available – is strictly mechanical strokes. Poetry without letters the of time minuscule the in side, of the traces of numerals one after the other, one by one and side by changes, to the versus of the line, verse after or words, poetry of cadenced regularity, numeral after numeral, going to the next line as the number verse, caesura after caesura, calculated discretion.

The triptych is a classical form, or format, of western ecclesiastical painting. It is often placed above or before an altar. It can often (and originally, it always could) fold onto itself. It forms an articulation of spacing, a space that can open or close onto that which can be considered both as part of itself and as another space. It exposes the fold and the unfolding of space. Viet-Nam persists as the proper name of a time when the world had to learn of another kind of partitioning than that practiced by imperial domination. The principle of an empire is beyond space and time. It is a punctual and immobile power which extends indeterminately, and virtually interminably. Empire crushes the distances it extends. It is a spreading out, not a spacing. The dismembering of empire is a dis-location which distinguishes places. Here, Viet-Nam, opens the present, 1965, of a partitioning of spaces which put a relation in place. It is a matter of understanding how each thing – one-thing, the “one” and the “thing” intrinsically linked – has its own place, puts its place in place, and puts equal places in equal relations. A place is opened and delimited by the always similar taking-place of an event that is always different. Taking-place is merely the intersection of time and space – its opening. This opening is singular, producing each time its own local color – or rather, the place itself as a color: it is the topology of geographical maps. This color, here, the color of the triptych Viet-Nam, is called “magenta” or “red magenta”. This is the name of a battle in which the troops of an empire were vanquished, in 1859. In 1860, the dark crimson coloring was discovered and given the name of the deadly battle of the preceding year. This color is the datum of a bloody spatter. Painting does not use colors, it produces the color of a place insofar as this place is an origin of the world. On the one hand, the place is independent of all places, and each locality is absolute: it instantly colors the totality of a world. But on the other hand, the place is merely localized by its relation to and distance from all places. It is ordered by its coordinates to the very ends of the world.

The painting entitled Location paints the place of locality in general, painting it by the coordinates of a singular place. Latitude is a given measured in relation to the equator, which is the greatest length of land along the axis which does not connect the poles. Longitude is a given measured in relation to an arbitrarily selected meridian (at least, according to the arbitrary choice of making localization occidental and, in the Occident, English: the imperial place of geography). “Meridian” means “partitioning of the day”: it is the line along which time (the hour) is the same from one of the Earth’s poles to the other. Place is the intersection of the two measurements, according to space and according to time, the point where the one and the other prove to have no dimension, merely the crossing of two lines. Nothing subsists in a point, except for the simple exteriority of points in relation to each other. A point consists of nothing (it has no “inside”): it is merely relation to other points. There is no point of space nor point of time (as if it were a little particle of the one or the other), but space and time are the oneoutside-the-other of punctuality itself. Thus puctiform space immediately opens time which goes from one point to the other – and time opens space as the truth of its trajectory (the point which is already not the one and not yet the other). The encounter of space and time: here-and-now.

This is not in the least abstract: it is the concrete itself – and it is what is present here. For this painting does not represent the coordinates of a point (which can, moreover, be found on a map and situated in the desert of North Africa). It does not represent: it gives the coordinates. It presents the truth of the point: its non-existence outside of its relation to all the points of this painting itself, its concrete absolute. The point pointed to here is in a determinate relation, always calculable, with the precise place where the painting is hung or placed. It is the concrete itself abstracted, that is, withdrawn from all that is not itself in its very concreteness. Hard as a grain of desert sand.

July 21, 1969: the date of the first moon landing of human cosmonauts. It’s the date on which those who mark time, its artists, concretely open up the cosmic spacing of time. There is no longer a sublunar world of time, and a supralunar world of pure presence. The moon is no longer a signal of the partitioning of spheres, but is itself merely one of the points from which the space of time opens out simultaneously in all directions in the universe, one of (A brief word on “conceptual art”: On Kawara has often been presented as a conceptual artist. He himself strictly refuses this classification. Indeed, it has the innumerable points stochastically disposed everywhere where there is someplace. no more justification than most of these sort of qualifications, “abstract art” or “minimal art”, etc. If art can be conceptual, it is in the sense that “conceive” signifies gathering and containing in the self, giving place, space and form to a presence. But in this case art is always conceptual – and, most importantly, There is no art that is not cosmological, because the productive technique of spacing produces the world each time, an ordering of the world, the world in the concept must always end by conceiving of itself as art.) whole or in part, but always the whole in each part each time. The world is never anything but the indefinite reference of all its points between themselves, and what is called a work of art is each time a singular, monadic and nomadic solidification of the cosmos.

5. On July 21, 1969, something happens in the history of painting, and of poeisy in general. The heavens are no longer celestial. They are neither the province of light above all figures, nor the region of transfigurations. They are no longer heavens but space, and the night of space whose sole figure is the date: the This painting which foregrounds the spacing of time as such foregrounds – exposes – that which, precisely, is not as such. It is not possible to say what arbitrary notation of its obscure opening. They are neither ground nor form, but the universal spacing of spaces, from all points to all other points: the the spacing of time is as such, because it is negativity for itself.3 Negativity cannot pose itself as itself (which would also suppose that it can be taken as ensemble of openings to the ensemble of what is open. something else, as another kind of thing): it can only open, it opens, it hollows out or punctures, it has no genre, not even its own. Unexposable, absolute exposer. Thus, the painting entitled July 21, 1969 paints the heavens because it covers one space among many with paint, a space identical to all spaces, and which is, as much as any other, at this instant, here and now, the origin or center of all spacing. It is not man’s conquest of space, but space’s request of man. The spacing of time is not a being, nor an operation of being or in being. If there is something in it, whatever it might be, it takes place only on the condition of the spacing of time, which is therefore anterior or exterior to being. Or more precisely: the spacing of time is the act of being – but not in the sense of the action of a subject. It is an act coextensive and cooriginary to being itself. It is thus so little “something” that not only is it not in space nor in time, but it is neither space nor time, and it is, insofar as it is, closer to this: space and time are two names, a double name, rather – space-time – for the necessarily double nature of that which is essentially outside itself (that whose essence consists in the outside-itself). 4. Space-time is the unity of that which is outside itself in its very unity (or rather: outside it). It is the opening of the world, of creation – but creation without It is therefore the sacred, sacred painting, which is in question. That is to say, not painting used to represent religious themes, but the sacred proper to a creator, without which space and time would only be in God, and thus, being in him, led back to a subsisting unity with neither space nor time. The one painting itself – and, in general, to the re-productive technique of the world. The sacred operates by setting aside or setting apart, insofar as this distancing and the other, or rather, this one-other which they form together, are the originary extroversion of that which does not subsist in itself. Space is the condiis the condition of the relation or of communication – or more precisely, insofar as this gap is the condition of the infinitude of the relation. (The sacred is tion of temporal passage, and time is the condition of spatial passage: the universal outside of the network of referrals which makes the inside of the world. nothing other than the ordinary condition of communication: reserve, threshold, access without access.) The present is the negation of the double passage, or the pure grasping of the passage as such, immobilized on itself in its very movement: the instantanePainting cuts out a space – the most basic sacred gesture, the trace of the templum. The templum is the cut-out of the heavens, the caeli lucida templa ous point and the punctual instant. The pure present is that which is purely outside the world, like its creation. But outside the world, there is no outside of that Lucretius speaks of and also calls magnas caeli cavernas.2 The templum is a hollowing-out of the heavens which defines relations, and, consequently, the world: neither space, nor time of creation. Outside the world there is the outside of the outside: the intimacy of the opening. non-relations as well.

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Poetic technique is devoted to presenting this present, what we call “re-presenting” not in the sense of recopying, because there is nothing here that can be copied, but in the sense of putting in front, putting forward. This art is devoted, like all art, perhaps, from its own angle, to putting forward that which remains buried, putting into the world that which is outside-the-world.

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2) the color of the painting, which is the vibration of the surface: the trembling, quivering, shivering, shuddering or brushing of the present, the noise and rustle of its restraint. The numerals and letters of the date are painted in white. White is the color beyond colors, the color of their simultaneous presence, which also causes their disappearance: the color of pure simultaneity remains.

1) painting itself, that is, the pigment, paste, diligently applied, smoothed to the limits of the pure plane without, nonetheless, doing away with the traces of the brush, affirming that a ground is covered over, making the ground come forward - the pure thickness obscure in itself – like a ground that surfaces, the presentation of a ground, like the side of a cut-off corner where the ground opens the eye: it itself opens like an eye that looks at us by opening our eyes. What can be seen in this way is painting emptied by the present of its own execution. I paint the date on which I paint. As if each painting, here, was an enlargement of one of the corners where the painter has painted the date the painting was completed. But also: as if the date were a naked ground which had to be painted. Painting, in this sense, is first of all the affirmation of a surface. Why paint the walls of a room? Not to “beautify,” but because without paint the walls disappear, melt into a groundless ground, taking the dwelling with them. Now, there must be a dwelling [demeure]: sojourn, lateness, remaining, repose, and even reserve, delay. The present held back against the precipitation of time, the present extracted from time, spaced.

From this group of interdependent propositions, the Date paintings allow for verification on four broad axes:

The subject can only be present as [en tant que] a painted subject. Painting can be present only as [en tant que] a painting of the subject. Painting is the presenter (or giver) of the subject just as much as the subject is the presenter (or giver) of painting. The present cannot be such as it is [en tant que tel] except in the spacing of the present, that is, of time itself. The subject can be only the subject of a retreat on this side, and not beyond, its own presence.

(It must be immediately specified that this may have something, or nothing, to do with the individual subject On Kawara, with his anxiety or with his certainty of being himself, and being a painter, and existing in general, etc. In this respect, all hypotheses are equally possible, and they are equally indifferent, at least in respect to what is presented to us, which is painting, and not an encounter with a person. There is no presence of no one: nothing but the present of painting.)

The date is here the subject. That is to say that the subject of this painting is the subject, absolutely. What must then be understood here is that the subject, here, paints itself. Or rather, if one wishes, that painting, here, subjectivises itself. These two propositions are correlative and reciprocal. Painting and subject identify the one with the other, and the one by the other.

The most one can say is that presence gives itself: it gives itself and conceals itself, in the same gesture of the present, in the same comings and goings of the present. But giving itself is precisely not to be given. Giving itself is the act of a subject – and it may very well be the exemplary act of the subject. But this assumes that it takes itself from this side of itself in order to deliver itself beyond itself. In this gesture, the self subtracts itself. It is nothing – if it can be said to “be” – but the distance between this side of it and its beyond. This distance “is” thus the self “itself ”, the present of the self – not its presence: the space it needs to be itself, to attain the self as much as to return to the self.

Such is the logic of the present: at this precise moment, the moment erases itself, and this is how it is a moment. The voice becomes silent, sticks to the canvas, and this is how it resonates: and its resonance is painting. The instant is unstable, and in this way it is an instant. The present is a spacing in which presence conceals itself. That is to say that it does not subsist there. It is not given, posed, deposed, available as an object, as a thing. The present opposes presence: it ruins it, abducts it, in the same movement by which it brings it.

As such, the given is only present: posed, deposed, being-there, without past and without future, without provenance and without destination, without donor and without recipient. The pure given as such in itself cancels the gift, reabsorbing the giving. Thus, strictly speaking, it is no longer given. The Date painting erases the date: it reinscribes it outside its giving, outside its dating. This date no longer dates: it is eternalized by the Date painting. For this reason it multiplies it indefinitely: the erasing is infinite because it is still on the date that the date erases itself. On the date of the painting - the day itself – but also the date of each reexposition of the painting.

Tautological painting of the date makes the date what it is: a pure datum, with no other reference. “Date” comes from the formula littera data, “given letter,” consigned on this day. The date is the being-given of the given, or the given as such.

Reference to events is not absent, if one refers to the canvas’ protective box, also exposed sometimes, containing one page of a newspaper from the day and the place where the canvas was made. But the properly pictorial gesture consists precisely in separating the date from its use as a point of reference for events and information.

Moreover, it is in this and only this way that the date can speak in painting, that it is, effectively, and there again in all its ambiguity, the subject of the painting: it does not discourse on a story, it only announces itself, utters itself, offers itself. Nothing but a point in the network of all the dates of the world – of all the dates that the world is, being nothing else and itself dateless. That’s why the date is not read on the canvas: it is not interpreted, it does not enter into a story, but one can only hear it. One hears a voice, although this time there is no recording to accompany the plastic and graphic work. One hears a voice, that is, a timbre and a tone, not a word. One hears time [le temps], one hears the which of the date [le tant],4 as is said in French to indicate an undetermined date, the date in general or the idea of the date: “le tant”, “on est le tant” [what date is it?]), the tantum quantum, the quantity of measured time, not according to its duration, but according to its occurrence. Furthermore, what one hears in this way, before the canvas and coming from the canvas is not a foreign voice given the task of reporting the date, giving the information about it. One hears oneself saying the date: I see the canvas and I pronounce its date, thus repeating that which makes the canvas itself. With a canvas voice, matte and flat against the wall, each person says the which of the date [le tant] again.

With On Kawara, this technique is devoted to this project under a condition which may at first seem purely tautological. The date says nothing but itself. It could happen, moreover, that the tautology is multiplied in the redundancy of several canvases painted on the same day, bearing the same date. In saying nothing but itself, the date says nothing of itself: this time it is the date of nothing, of no event. It says of itself only (and it doesn’t say it, it isn’t visible): that it is painted the very day. In French, one can say, with all the resources of ambiguity: it is painted of the very day/ on the very day.

1 Lecture given in January 1997 at the Nouveau Musée during the exposition of On Kawara’s works, “Whole and Parts – 1964-1995”. The text was rea in the exhibition halls, and the speaker moved his way through it, along with the audience. Parts 1 and 2 were read in the gallery consecrated to “One Million Years”, part 3 in the gallery containing “July 21, 1969”, part 4 in that containing “Title, 1965” (the Viet-Nam triptych) and “Location painting” 31*25’N/Long 8*41*E), 5 and 6 in that containing “30 Years Date Painting 1966-1995”. I would like to thank Jean-Claude Conésa for his active collab tion on this stroll, and also Jean-Louis Maubant, Pascal Pique and the entire team of the Nouveau Musée for their kind reception. 2 De rerum natura, I, 1014 and IV, 171. 3 Hegel, Encyclopedia, b257 sq. 4 Tr. note: in French, the two words temps and tant are homonyms, both pronounced [tã].

NOTES

Translated by Alisa Hartz

It’s the thing as this thing. The thing at an encounter with itself. My gaze is this encounter. It is not the representation of the thing, nor am I the subje a representation nor of an intention (for me, in me, absorbed by me, consumed, appropriated, filled). I am the staring present of the presentation. I a place of the date. I am only that, and “I” – ego – means nothing else. The spacing of a point which is nonetheless not the spacing between two points. single distended point: not the infinite divisibility of space, but the division of the indivisible product of all division. The non-dimension as distentio intentionality. But the precise date of the end of intention, on this side of all aims. Poetry is the productive technique of this end. For what one wants is nothing but this: this end, each time, this overflowing of the present in any present whatsoever. That’s what one strives to fabricate, behind the im and perpetual flowing of presence. But where, behind where, and when? There where time opens.

The present is this disposition which exposes the thing to its vision. That is, to its desire to be open to itself. Seeing and knowing are the same thing. Sanskrit, oida Greek, wissen German. The thing seen and known is the thing which is not left to its opaque thickness. It is the thing cut by the presen which distances it from itself – by the plane that colors and exhibits it.

The form of seeing is the opening of the eye, and in it the spreading of the pupil. This spreading adjusts itself to light, which allows the present of a fo with its color to penetrate in the orifice – this little mute mouth open in the center of the iris. No form without color, no color without form. The sim taneous solidarity of form and color makes the present of vision. Vision sees the present, but only because the present opens the eye, and disposes it t presentation.

But a date, in English, is also an encounter. And to date can mean: “go to an encounter.” The date is the possibility of an encounter, with the indicatio place, that is, of the point ordered by the punctuality of the encounter. Here, the place is here. That is, anywhere: in any place where I am dating here, in any place where a date painting can be exposed. On Kawara sets a date anywhere, anytime, he sets a date with “the date” itself. The painting annou find me there where I am, and we will meet. You will recognize me by this, that I am only there for the encounter. And I will recognize you by the sa will be there, you as well as I, only to find ourselves there. (In the same way, a museum, a gallery, is a place made to be a place). “Find ourselves there trouver, in French, can mean both “be there” and “meet each other there, find each other there again”. We will find each other by each other. Somethi see which finds itself there only to be seen, and a seer who finds himself there only to see, to regard – that is, with regard for the visible. It’s sight’s dat vision. The encounter of sight with its capacity to have regard for its own opening, for its own gaze, that is also for its own ideality: seeing the very for seeing.

4) the exposition as such: the position-before, there-before, over there before us. The date is subtracted from the course of time, and from its referent function. It coordinates nothing; it does not allow an act to be situated in a succession. It exposes the simultaneity of an act with itself. “I am painting painting” On Kawara wrote on 1/18/1966. And ten days later: “I am dating here.”

This is exactly what another great fictioner says, at the height of his feigning - Descartes, when he pronounces: ego sum, ego existo. The certitude of t sum is coextensive with the time of its enunciation (or its thought). Outside of this present, my being or my existence may be nothing but a fiction. B present, precisely, repeats itself incessantly, it does not cease to arrive. Here, the certitude of the date is coextensive with its exposition. It is immediat the instant, my certainty as a spectator: that I see this date, and that I am myself, here and now, its truth. I am not before an old calendar. I am before repetition in the present of the present of this date. I am the present of each date. Today - the title of the series – is each time the today of the expositi

3) the calculation of mimesis, or the fiction of presentation. The presence of the present must be made, fabricated, composed, modeled and thus feig This poiesis is necessary to grasp the ungraspable. Thus, the painted date is immediately destabilized: it is as feigned as it is true. Its truth (being the d the date of the painting) has no other attestation than itself, which could nonetheless have been painted on another date. In a parallel fashion, its trut ing the very date of the very date) is lost as soon as the date is over, and the painting with it. At midnight, this truth is no longer current, but the pain is ready to expose it. But in this way it is a truth: by conserving itself across time, the immobile repeated acute present of an vanished present. In exp itself as this date – this given – it exposes that the given absolutely conceals the gift. But this concealed gift is that which gives itself again each time, a exposition: it gives itself again, withdrawn into its feigning. Each date announces: I am a present which has passed as the present that it says, and whi perhaps, in saying it, feigns only to have been, but which is no less incontestably present as this saying and as this feigning.

But the ground (or the surface emptied by the date), the ground is at bottom that which the date, here, designates (that it designates and dates at the s time, that it designates in dating), the ground that is thus the referent of the date - its thing, its substance, its dated - is each time but one color. This c varies, dark or sky blue, green, brown or dark gray, sometimes cadmium red, the tendency is to somber colors, but this darkening is not obscurity: th is never consumed by the dark, in real black. No black out, but gradation, relation and difference, chromatism, that is flesh, the complexion (chroma from chrôs, surface of the body, skin, flesh), the light brushing of its proper nuance, the perceptible distancing of an imperceptible distinction, graspe at the moment of its detachment, of its distancing within a limited but infinitely reduced specter: when one speaks of an imperceptible “gradation”, th means that the present of the leap has not been felt, not grasped at the instant it passed, the presence of the leap. Each canvas, size and color, only det itself from the others, opening between them the series, the rhythm and the syncopation of presents. Difference in the identity of the present.

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Introduction

point because it represents the terms under which I entered theoretical discourse on performance: enthusiasm for talking about acting, interest in the avant-garde, commitment to a communitarian view of theatre informed by the ecstatic political theatres of the 1960s. It is important to note that my approach to all these things was defined in terms of a very traditional analytical concept: catharsis, a concept little used in cutting-edge theatre scholarship since the 1970s.4 The difference between the first essay and the second, both of which are about modernist theories of acting and address the work of Grotowski, among others, can be summed up in one word: Theory. Between 1979 and 1983, I received degrees from two graduate programs in theatre, both of which were Theory-Free Zones at the time. The Theory and Criticism I studied in these programs was limited to traditional dramatic theory; I emerged from graduate school completely unacquainted with the current trends in First published 1997 literary and cultural theory (e.g., semiotics, deconstruction, readerby Routledge response theory, feminist theory, etc.). I suspect that my experience 11 New Fetter Lane, London EC4P 4EE was fairly typical, in that the application of Theory to Theatre This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2002. Studies in the North American academy only began in the early Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada 1980s. (I date its advent to 1982, with the publication of Herbert by Routledge Blau’s Take Up the Bodies: Theater at the Vanishing Point and the two 29 West 35th Street, New York, NY 10001 essays in Modern Drama that I discuss in Chapter 5. Other important © 1997 Philip Auslander developments, such as Elinor Fuchs’s engagement with deconstruction and postmodernism around 1983, and Sue-Ellen All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilized in any form or by Case’s Feminism and Theatre [1988], followed in the next few years.) 6 Introduction any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now The watershed event for American scholars was the presence of two known or hereafter invented, including photocopying competitive panels on the program of the 1984 of the and recording, or in any information storage or structuralist, poststructuralist, andconference identity-based criti American Theatre Association. Collectively entitled “Toward a New pr retrieval system, without permission in writing from success of which can be measured by the scholarly Poetics,” these panels were designed to examine the implications the publishers. last decade, especially in the area of feminist for theat theatre of the new critical methodologies we were British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data myself, deconstruction provided beginning a way of to gain acknowledge. My paper, “‘Just beacting your self’: logocentrism and a Deanna Sirlin, my One and Only A catalogue record for this book is available from the BritishFor Library perspective on the theories I had examined différance in performance theory” analyzed modernist uncritically, up to (Chapter that point.3),This perspective enabled Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication Data acting theory in light of Derridean deconstruction. A catalogue record for this book has been requested the theories and acting itself in terms of an expan I cannot overemphasize thetoimportance of the New Poetics textuality, and understand how they might be sub ISBN 0-415-15786-2 (hbk) panels.5 Those sessions, and the considerations of how new ideas critiques other kinds of texts were undergoing. Bec ISBN 0-415-15787-0 (pbk) might infuse theatre practice and scholarship from them,I w ISBN 0-203-44426-4 Master e-book ISBN was organized around the ideaarising of a New Poetics, galvanized the field in a wayinthat fewdeconstruction concepts or events have sincefor ISBN 0-203-75250-3 (Glassbook Format) interested what might mean (I felt a similar energy at the First Annual Performance Studies practice. Since my focus at the time was on the Der Conference in 1995, but I’m not sure it willthat prove havenot thebase same of différance, I concluded one to could am generative power;orsee Auslander 1995b). The New Poetics was the a style of theatre directly on deconstruction. Later, point of entry into American Theatre Studies for all varieties of exploring the question of postmodernist pol

Introduction

deconstruction provided the basis for conceptualizi strategy. within Western culture, to think “performance” without thinking The third essay in this first section, “Task and “theatre,” so deeply engrained is the idea of theatre in both Dafoe in LSD,” is an analysis of a particular perfo performance and discourse about performance. “[I]t is theater which placed this essay here because it continues the haunts all performance whether or not it occurs in the theater” (Blau deconstructive theatre practices begun in Chapt 1987:164–5). “[T]heater is the repressed of performance” (Diamond because the Wooster Group’s performance sty 1996:4) even, perhaps especially, when it is a kind of performance recognizable tropes of acting, yet, by deconstruct that is overtly antitheatrical.3 tropes, becomes something other than acting. With t The selection and organization of the essays here is meant to this essay, this section maps in small the transitions reflect this perspective on the relationship of theatre and in this book. It suggests the development of my o performance as well as the development of my own work. Although traditionally based analysis of acting toward a mo the essays are not presented in strict chronological order, they are informed performance criticism, which occurred a Contents arranged viii to give a sense of that development. Although I have major change in the discipline generally. It also indi edited and revised Notes the essays, in some cases substantially, I have 141 transitions in theatre itself: from an aspiration to uni endeavored not to alter them in ways that would efface their original Bibliography 154 toward much localizedofdiscou Name Index I might think differently today. The 163 communication I would like to thank Talia Rodgers formore her support arguments, even where essays particularly modernist avant-garde and the ecstatic theatres Index this project, and167 Herb Blau for useful criticism and good advice. I of th are very muchSubject products of the times in which they were written, and postmodernism; and a progressive redefinition would also like to thank Tanya Augsburg and Maria Pramaggiore of the I did not want them to lose that time-bound quality. away from “character” toward “performance p for helping The first section, “From Acting to Performance,” provides an me research Chapter 11 at a time when it was impossible consequent redefinitions of the function of the perf overview of the developments I have been discussing here. Ifor feelme thatto do it myself. to performance. Although they arerelation far too numerous to mention by name, I would I am taking something of a risk in reprinting as early a piece as Although I embraced the skepticism implicit in d like “‘Holy theatre’ and catharsis,” the first essay in that section. Into thethank all those who included my papers on panels they I was frustrated by its seeming inappropriateness a organized, course of working on this volume, however, I became more and and all the editors of journals and books who selected for discussing political theatre, in which I have a more convinced that it was important to include this piece,my in work part for publication. Editorial feedback from such sources has of criticism. postmodernism been one of my mostinterest. valuableTheories sources of I wouldseemed also liketo me because I realized how many times I return in later work to the convincing description of contemporary culture an thank all of the colleagues who heard and read this material at figures and ideas mentioned there as objects of comparison,tousually which that discussion might take place, and became to take issue with them. The figures and conceptions ofvarious theatrestages of its development—I’ve learned a lot from you.

Acknowledgments

Contents

Acknowledgments 1

Introduction

Part I From acting to performance 2

“Holy theatre” and catharsis

“Just be your self”: logocentrism and différance in performance theory

Task and vision: Willem Dafoe in LSD

Part II Postmodernism and performance 5

Presence and theatricality in the discourse of performance and the visual arts

Toward a concept of the political in postmodern theatre

Embodiment: the politics of postmodern dance

Part III Postmodern body politics 8 9

Vito Acconci and the politics of the body in postmodern performance Boal, Blau, Brecht: the body

ix 1

11 13 28 39

Introduction

49 58 73

87 89 98

“Brought to you by Fem-Rage”: stand-up comedy and the politics of gender

108

The surgical self: body alteration and identity

126

Acknowledgments

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Francisco, 1984. It was subsequently published in Art and Cinema (New Series), 1, 1 (1986), and in Acting (Re)Considered, edited by Phillip Zarrilli (1995). It has been revised for inclusion here. “Task and vision: Willem Dafoe in LSD” (Chapter 4) was commissioned for a special issue of TDR on the subject of performance personae. That issue never came off, but the essay appeared (severely edited) in another special issue on the Wooster Group (TDR, 29, 2), reprinted here by permission of MIT Press, © 1985. The unedited version was published in Acting (Re)Considered,The title of this collection, for which I have my edito edited by Phillip Zarrilli (London and New York: Routledge, 1995).Rodgers, to thank, is evocative for me on several level That version has been revised for inclusion here. personal level, From Acting to Performance suggests the cou “Presence and theatricality in the discourse of performance and thedevelopment of my own interests has followed, from an visual arts” (Chapter 5) was my contribution to the State of thecommitment to theatre toward a broader concep Profession panel at the annual conference of the American Societyperformance and its genres. (I hope it is not presumpt for Theatre Research in Providence, Rhode Island, 1992. suggest that many theatre scholars of my generation sh “Toward a concept of the political in postmodern theatre”intellectual history with me.) The same phrase sugge (Chapter 6) is reprinted from Theatre Journal, 39, 1 by permission ofdirection of developments in my original area of in the Johns Hopkins University Press, © 1987. experimental theatre, over the last twenty-five years “Embodiment: the politics of postmodern dance” (Chapter 7) isWhereas the modernist and avant-gardist theatres of reprinted from TDR, 32, 4 by permission of the MIT Press, © 1988.nineteenth through the mid-twentieth centuries conceived “Vito Acconci and the politics of the body in postmodernwork in terms of innovations in acting, subsequent postmo performance” (Chapter 8) is reprinted from After the Future:innovations have resulted from a recon-sideration of th Postmodern Times and Places, edited by Gary Shapiro, by permissionnature of the activity that takes place on the stage, a of the State University of New York Press, © 1990. development of performance art, in which artists fro “Boal, Blau, Brecht: the body” (Chapter 9) appeared originally intheatrical backgrounds have brought divergent sensibil Playing Boal: Theatre, Therapy, Activism, edited by Mady Schutzmanbear on the act of performance. Finally, the title phrase ical theories, the and Jan Cohen-Cruz (London and New York: Routledge, 1994). Itdevelopments and debates within the American ac roduction of the has been revised for inclusion here. surrounding the evolution of Peformance Studies as a di tre studies. For “‘Brought to you by Fem-Rage’: stand-up comedy and the politicsapart from Theatre Studies. It is with these debates that ning a critical of gender” (Chapter 10) is reprinted from Acting Out: Feministbegin my discussion here. Despite the antagonisms expre analytically, but Performances, edited by Lynda Hart and Peggy Phelan, by permissionboth sides, the title of this book expresses my perception d me to see both of the University of Michigan Press, © 1993. relationship between Theatre Studies and Performance Stu nded notion of Part of “The surgical self: body alteration and identity” (Chapterone of continuity rather than rupture. bject to the same 11) was published as “Orlan’s Theatre of Operations,” TheatreForum, Detecting within me a histrionic impulse, my mother cause 2theIntroduction panel 7 (1995). I presented an earlier draft of the current essay to theoff to acting classes beginning around age nine. Thus be was particularly Gender/Technology Conference organized by E.Ann Kaplan at thelife-long involvement with an art form and an academic high school, I worked Institute intensively in the theatre, primarily as York an at Stony r future theatre Humanities at the State University of New which I eventually earned two graduate degrees. Thro actor, takingBrook, a relatively rridean concept 1996. uncritical view of the enterprise. It was only Introduc undergraduate that I began to think about the social, cultural, methodasofanacting and political significance of theatre. That I attended college during , when I started mutually exclusive: if you accept the new paradigm, you must immediate post-Viet Nam, post-Watergate period had much to iticalthe theatre, the previous one. So different are the premises on which comp with this growing emphasis. I left college briefly to study acting ing a do necessary paradigms are based that scientists who accept different parad at professional schools in New York, but was so disenchanted with cannot even speak meaningfully with one another. In Kuh theWillem lack of intellectual curiosity among my fellow students that I vision: terms, Theatre Studies would not be a subset of postrevo-luti returned ormer’s work. to I a conventional undergraduate education at a university Performance Studies—it would be the repudiated paradigm. Th without of a theatre department. It was during this time that my own discussion would be as phlogiston to performance’s oxygen: theatre sch of theatrical avant-gardism and reading in ter 3,investigations and also and performance scholars would be unable to engage in mean theory brought home to me that theatre is a much le is performance based in exchange; those who insisted on the validity of the Theatre St largervery category than I had originally conceived it to be, and that it ting those paradigm would be regarded as quacks akin to those who w is, in turn, the inclusion of a subset of a still larger category reasonably called defend the scientific integrity of astrology against that of astron performance. I want to chart As the thumbnail biographical sketch I have offered here s To from me, then and now, this insight seems wholly unproblematic. own work imply, my own practical and scholarly experience of theatr I have never felt that my (admittedly often strained) allegiance to ore theoretically performance suggests that the relationship between Theatre St theatre isofsomehow compromised by the notion that it is part of a at a moment and Performance Studies is not best described as a paradigm picture. My academic career has been reflective of the peaceful icateslarger historical The concept of performance enabled me to extend my ori coexistence iversal levels of of the concepts of theatre and performance: I frequently inquiry into the nature of theatre to other forms (e.g., perform literature but, as this collection will attest, I almost urses;teach fromdramatic the art and stand-up comedy) and to look at those other forms in never write about plays, preferring to focus on performance texts he 1960s toward the same way that I had previously considered theatre and theories of performance. Early in my scholarly career, this meant eatrical mimesis evolution of Performance Studies out of Theatre Studies, S examining persona,” with theories of acting rather than more conventional theatre Communication, and Anthropology has the character of what historical former’s self inor critical issues. Even as I have moved away from theatre calls the articulation of a paradigm. By articulation, Kuhn mean as my primary object of study, I have always felt that my work has application and extension of a paradigm to new areas of res remained rooted in the same fundamental concerns.1 deconstruction, Elin Diamond has identified some of the basic questions eme One of the flashpoints for recent debates over the relationship of as a framework from the study of theatre that are also fundamental to the stu Theatre Studies to Performance Studies was Richard Schechner’s a longstanding performance more broadly construed: 1992both editorial “A New Paradigm for Theatre in the Academy.” to offer a in stirring up controversy, Schechner declared that nd a Always context interested in [P]owerful questions posed by theater representation—que “The new paradigm is ‘performance,’ not theatre. Theatre e the theoretical of subjectivity (who is speaking/acting?), location (in what departments should become ‘performance departments’” (1992:9).

Introduction 87 Introduction

Hibernal solstice / March 3

commitment of my work from the mid-1980s on. The three essays the analyses of performance practices that make up the final section grouped in the second section of the book under the title of of the book. “Postmodernism and Performance” address two fundamental issues: The theoretical questions that surround the performing body have the role played by the concept of postmodernism in defining the long intrigued and perplexed me. As some notes and passing relationship of performance to theatre, and the question of what references in several chapters here suggest, I have wondered postmodernist political performance might look like. The first essay particularly whether the body in performance can be accounted for in the section, “Presence and theatricality in the discourse of semiotically, for the body seems in some ways to defeat signification. performance and the visual arts,” was written for an American On the other hand, to posit the body as an absolute, originary Society for Theatre Research conference on the relationship of theatre presence beyond signification is neither accurate nor theoretically and the visual arts in 1992. It occurred to me that 1992 marked the defensible. The problematic of the performing body lies in the twenty-fifth anniversary of the publication of Michael Fried’s tension between the body’s inevitably serving as a signifier while notorious essay “Art and Objecthood” (1968 [1967]), a central text simultaneously exceeding, without transcending, that function: for critical work on postmodernism in both the visual arts and “when the intention is to present the body itself as flesh…it remains performance, and, therefore, a suitable object of discussion at the a sign nonetheless…. When the intention is to present the conference. I wanted to show that the relation of opposition between performer’s body as primarily a sign…, corporeality always intertheatre and performance that informs many discussions of venes…” (Erickson 1995:66–7). The essays in the third section, postmodernist performance was generated out of Fried’s opposition entitled “Postmodern body politics,” continue the discussion of the of color field abstraction and minimalism in visual art, and explore signifying body begun in Chapter 8 and atttempt in various ways the irony of the use of Fried’s implicitly anti-postmodern polemic to arrive at a non-essentialist view of the body that nevertheless by critics championing the postmodern in performance. acknowledges its corporeality.6 The next two chapters assert my thesis that the models we still The first essay in this section, “Vito Acconci and the politics of have for political art and theatre, which descend from the modernist the body in postmodern performance,” opens with a restatement of avant-garde and the 1960s, are no longer viable and that the project the question concerning postmodern political art explored in the of political art must be reconceptualized in postmodernist terms. previous two chapters, and a cultural critique of the status of the Both essays deal directly, though in different contexts, with the body in modernist theories of acting that complements the question of what that means for theatre and performance. Even deconstructive critique in Chapter 3. Thereafter, I analyze Vito though the material in my essay “Toward a concept of the political Acconci’s “body art” of the early 1970s as a postmodern political art in postmodern theatre” appears scattered through my book Presence practice focusing on the body and its cultural significations. The next and Resistance: Postmodernism and Cultural Politics in Contemporary chapter, “Boal, Blau, Brecht: the body,” situates Augusto Boal’s work American Performance (1992a), I have included it here (as Chapter 6) in relation to modernist performance theory and argues that Boal’s for two reasons. The first is simply that it has never been reprinted formulation of the “spect-actor,” an entity which combines the in its original form. The second, more substantial, reason is that, functions of theatrical spectator and actor in a single body, provides a way of reconceptualizing postmodern subjectivity without denying together with Chapters 7 and 8, which also have never been its fracturing, so as to recover a space for critical distance and, hence, reprinted, it forms a sequence of essays, all written around the same politics in postmodern performance. time, that touch on theories and practices in theatre, dance, and performance art in the context of a particular view of political art The third essay in this section, “‘Brought to you by Fem-Rage’: stand-up comedy and the politics of gender,” may seem anomalous under postmodernism. That view, which repu-diates the transgressive stance of the modernist avant-garde in favor of in a that it is the only essay in this collection to look at a popular cultural performance genre. I have argued elsewhere (Auslander concept of resistant political art, is adumbrated and justi-fied in 1992b) that the stand-up comedy produced during the comedy boom Chapter 6, where I also discuss its implications for theatre. The same of the 1980s must be understood as a specifically postmodern concept then serves as the basis for my critique of Susan Foster’s phenomenon, qualitatively different from the cultural positioning of Reading Dancing (1986) in Chapter 7 and, indeed, as the ground of Introduction

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earlier stand-up comedy. Although I do not wish to rehearse yet again the oft-stated claim that postmodernism is characterized by a breakdown of the distinction between high art and mass culture, I would suggest that such a breakdown has indeed occurred in the distinction between avant-gardistic and popular performance (see Auslander 1989). One consequence of this breakdown is that one can no longer assume that positive political work can be done only by vanguard art; as my analysis of The Roseanne Barr Show demonstrates, popular cultural texts, too, can be understood as resistant political art. In addition to that analysis, this chapter presents the work of women stand-up comedians as a discourse in which the body is the locus of a critical analysis of gender in culture. Women comics also engage in a discourse of bodily transformation that relates both to Acconci’s manipulations of, and attempts to alter, his own body and to the work of Orlan and Kate Bornstein, the two performance artists discussed in the final chapter. Whereas the women comics discussed in Chapter 10 subject the body to purely verbal, discursive transformations, Acconci goes beyond the verbal in his actions on his own body. These actions produce only partial and temporary transformations; in the high-stakes body performances undertaken by Orlan and Bornstein, the transformations are surgical and permanent. My discussion of their work in “The surgical self: body transformation and identity” (Chapter 11) continues my analysis of bodily gender performance and resistant political art, while simultaneously carrying that analysis into the realm of techno-medical interventions on the body that foreshadow the issues to be addressed in the cyborg culture of the very near future.

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Hibernal solstice / March 4

MIKÄ TÄMÄ ON? Jarmo Kontkanen <jarmo.kontkanen@gmail.com> 4.3.2013 -> minä Nappasin kuvaruututulostuksen www.juostenkustannus.net osoitteesta. Tälläisenä sivusto näkyy minun selaimessa. <img src=”data:image/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAoMAAAFpCAIAAABoO7WgAAAgAElEQVR4nJzbV2xjaYLo94Zh+ME2DDgA98lPvlj42 ri4u76Gca93Zmd2sLsTdme6e7p7uqtDdVd15VwllXKOFHPOOeecRDGIOeecgyhKJCWREilSobrlB1X1pN1rXwM/HHznnO+V/J/vhPe2S5e28htH7XtX5dJTHnqq57bCwJE/dRcH3vLQXxkGa2eh2lm4fhapn4XrZ+H6WWjnLFgbBqvDQGUQqAz8lYG/MvCWB55S313oOfM9R/b4mj3btWe79kzXnunaMu8G2a4107Wmu9vJjjFxuBU7METam5GmPtzUh5u6cFMX2tcEGkpvXe6uSBwFgSXN3YqzNiMMbYiuDdG1IYY2zNRHWYYEZyvNM2V55jzfUuBbijxLiWcp87fLAmtVaNsROXbFzj2xuyl2t8TutsjdFrpbAtc+197gWOtMS41mrJA2SzhdEaUqQOX5DUluVZhZ4ibnmNEpamCM4B7B2l6izC/gWy/gWy8RxldI0wjK/ BpleY0yjSIMr6Da5xuKx6viB0u8e/OsO7P0O7O0u7OM+wvsh8u8pwDJS4h6FGEYx1mnKL5ZdnRBlFlRFNd0lXVDDWCsAYy1dWNt1VBZ0ZeXNYUldWFRmZ+ X5+ZkmRlhcpIXfU0PvCA6HqO27gHlt5Z5X87SbkwQPn2N+d0o6nejqE9fo29M4L6aId9eZD4ACJ5B5aMY/QTRNE2xzlIdczTHPN21wPQscQIrgihAloFoyvDNXa SxiTK1EIYGRFPdkGVX+OEFlneW5pih2maotjm6a5HlXeIGl/mRZUF0mR9Z4gTmmZ4Zim0CbxxBap6CJA9WOLdmSDdGkR892fj1vcVffjPz91+O/ 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Hibernal solstice / March 5

From Acting to Performance collects for the first time major essays by performance theorist and critic Philip Auslander. Written over more than a decade, from the mid-1980s to the present, the essays survey the changes in acting and performance that occurred during the crucial transition from the ecstatic theatre of the Vietnam era to the ironic postmodernism of the 1980s. This collection begins with analyses of the modern theories of acting that inspired the theatrical experimentalists of the 1960s, including those of Antonin Artaud, Jerzy Grotowski, Jacques Copeau, and Peter Brook. Subsequent essays contrast these conceptions of acting with the emerging postmodernist theatre and performance of the 1980s, represented by the Wooster Group and Willem Dafoe. Discussions of postmodernism in performance examine the indebtedness of ideas about postmodern theatre to art criticism and the politics of postmodernist theatre and dance. The last section is devoted to the status of the body in theatre, performance art, and stand-up comedy, and includes essays on Vito Acconci, Roseanne Barr, Augusto Boal, Kate Bornstein, and Orlan. Philip Auslander is Associate Professor at the Georgia Institute of Technology. He is currently a contributing Editor for TDR: The Journal of Performance Studies. Previous publications include Presence and Resistance: Postmodernism and Cultural Politics in Contemporary American Performance.

Part I From acting to performance From Acting to Performance Essays in Modernism and Postmodernism

Philip Auslander

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Maailmankuva

Acknowledgments

Like any book, this one is the fruit of a long and debt-ridden gestation period. The project evolved through a series of group experiences, each of which made a crucial contribution to what you find before you. I thank Kate Hayles and the students in her 1998 NEH summer seminar for planting the initial seeds. I thank my students at Stanford University, Scott Bukatman, and the entire Department of Art History for offering me a forum to immerse myself in the field of new media art. I thank Tim Lenoir, Casey Alt, Steven Meyer, Haun Saussy, and the members of the Writing Science Group at Stanford University for compelling my first focused engagement with video and new media art and also for many stimulating discussions in and around the field of contemporary imaging technologies. I thank the Center for Media Art in Karlsruhe, Germany, and especially Annika Blunk, Jeffrey Shaw, Birgit Wien, and Thomas London Zandegiacomo Del Bel, for their generous welcome and for furnishing a wealth of material indispensable to my research. I thank the students in my 2001 graduate seminar on the body at Princeton University for challenging and (I can only hope) strengthening my theoretical engagement with Bergson, Deleuze, and much else besides. And finally, I thank Irving Lavin and the members of the Art History Group at the Institute for Advanced Study who helped me frame my argument in the context of the wider institutional practices at work in the contemporary art world. Along the way, I have had the chance to try out my arguments on many welcoming and helpful ears and eyes. I especially thank audiences at the Society for Science and Literature conference in 2001, at the Society for Cinema Studies conferences in 2001 and 2002, at the DAC conference in 2001, at the American Comparative Literature Association in 2001, at the Stanford Writing Science Workshop in 2002, and at the Surviving the Photograph conference at Princeton in 2000. An embarassingly large number of colleagues, students, and

and New York

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Hibernal solstice / March 6

From Acting to Performance Essays in Modernism and Postmodernism

Loneliness of the Project Room

Philip Auslander

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London and New York

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16 essayes on typography; warde Crystal goblet; Luettavuus; lukukelvottoman; epäluotettava Miksi lukukelvoton on vaarallista?: Susan Stewart; nonsense Common sense is rooted in the reality.. Vs nonsense...rooted in the Nonsense kiertää kehää; ei pääse minnekään, Common sense on matkalla jonnekin; sillä on olevinaan päämäärä; ja järkevä suunta vallitsee ihmisten keskuudessa; .... Charles Bernstein: the politics of pohtia form.. Epäartikulaatio, änkytys ja outous ovat hyvin tavallisia asioita, Man ray..laude...light Paragrammatic reading challenges the normatiivisen.. Leon Roudiez.. Kielen materiaalisuus; Ron Silliman _ massaromaanin sivu on "tyhjä" Dwork: sensuurin estetiikka; Ken cambell; father ́s (artist ́s book) Emilio Isgro; cancellatura" It se se nsuuri ;;; ; Det ournment ; Interventiota must always be made within the preeexisting structuraes;; Dworkin Olemassa olevissa kehyksissä; silloin tulee nonsense aspekti; tekstien ideologiat tulevat esiin; olemassa olevissa rakenteissa; (poliittisuus) onko väliä, miten se määritellään? Ja yhtäkkiä on: "The utopian potential of the anti-funktionalismi perspective" Met a-have n Can jOkes bring governments down;; Oudosti tuttu, kumma; unheimlich Hölderlin; psykoosin tuottama kieli; Cmy Twombly;; psykoottinen toiminta suhteessa kieleen; Unica Zürn;; Jasminin mies; the man of Jasmin; Itsesensuuri; liittyykö se psykoosiin vai poliittisuuteen;; Tohtori screber;;; An ti o id ip u s 1.0 Distra cti on; Focus; Ets int ä; Translation; transformation; Menee johonkin; tulee löytämään muodon; Tekstin ja esineen suhde ; (Viimeistelemättömään; välinpitämättömyys;) Temaattinen kirjoitus; itsesensuroiva tyyli viittaa kehämäiseen ajatteluun; kaikki ei ole kaunista ei myöskään kuulasta

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Loneliness of the Project Room

Hibernal solstice / March 7

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Hibernal solstice / March 8

Tytti Rantanen

Kirjallisuus ja oikeus raunioihin Mietteitä Edmond de Rothschildin puistosta Jälkistrukturalistisessa kirjallisuusfilosofiassa kirjallisuudelle annetaan ”oikeus kuolemaan”, lupa olla ei-mitään: ei-esittävää, ei-informoivaa kieltä, joka antaa sanallisen muodon sanomattomalle kokemukselle. Samalla tavoin rauniot ja muut rakennustaiteelliset fragmentit ovat sammaloituneiden portaiden, ruostuneiden porttien ja luhistuneiden pylväiden sanomatonta kieltä, ei-enää-mitään. Vaikka raunioilla olikin itseisarvo jo romantiikan aikaan, nykyisessä funktionalismin jälkeisessä maailmassa ne edustavat entistä radikaalimmin kaunista turhuutta ja ovat esteettinen memento menneiltä ajoilta.

Loneliness of the Project Room

”Meaulnes ja Yvonne kyllä juttelivat, mutta valitettavasti Meaulnes palasi koko ajan itsepintaisesti, itse sitä tuskin tiedostamatta, menneen ajan ihmeellisiin kokemuksiin. Ja piinatun neiti de Galaisin piti toistella tavan takaa, että kaikki oli kadonnut: vanha, outo sokkeloinen asuinrakennus oli purettu, iso lampi kuivattu ja täytetty, ja viehättäviin pukuihin pukeutuneet lapsetkin olivat kaikonneet omille teilleen... […] Sitten Meaulnes muisteli huoneensa esineitä: kynttelikköjä, isoa peiliä, vanhaa särkynyttä luuttua... Hän kyseli kaikesta oudon kiihkeästi kuin olisi halunnut vakuuttua siitä, ettei hänen hienosta seikkailustaan ollut jäljellä mitään ja ettei neiti de Galais voinut tuoda hänelle – niin kuin sukeltaja tuo meren pohjalta kiven ja leviä – ainuttakaan hylkyä joka todistaisi, etteivät he molemmat olleet nähneet unta.”1

Alain-Fournierin katkeransuloisessa romaanissa Ensirakkaus (Le Grand Meaulnes, 1913) raisu koulupoika eksyy merkillisiin juhliin rappeutuvaan kartanoon keskellä metsää ja omistaa elämänsä tämän kartanon sekä siellä asuneen salaperäisen neidon jälleenlöytämiseen. Kun Meaulnes vihdoin löytää kaivatun Yvonne de Galais’n ja alkuvaikeuksien jälkeen menee jopa tämän kanssa naimisiin, asettuuko hän tyytyväisenä aloilleen ja ryhtyy kunnostamaan tuhoutunutta kartanoa entiseen loistoonsa? Vielä mitä – kuin noiduttuna hän syöksyy jatkamaan rauhatonta seikkailuaan ja jättää vastavihityn vaimonsa riutumaan vähin erin pois tästä maailmasta. Vai onko lähes raunioitunut kartano surumielisine asukkeineen alun perinkään tästä maailmasta? Melankolisen tasapainon nimissä ja tietenkin kaikkien romantiikan myrskyisten sääntöjen mukaan autiotalojen ja raunioiden on pysyttävä lohduttomina – suorastaan vainottuina, täynnä aaveita, häilyviä aavistuksia jostain, mitä ei enää ole. Alain-Fournierin kai-

hoisa teos sijoittuu romantiikalle ominaisen rauniokultin jatkumoon. Raunioita oli toki ihannoitu aiemminkin, mutta viimeistään Auguste Rodinin (1840–1917) julistus, jonka mukaan kaunista kohdetta kauniimpaa on kauniin kohteen jäännökset, vahvisti, että niille oli muodostunut esteettinen itseisarvo, joka teki niistä paitsi pittoreskeja myös suorastaan subliimeja näkyjä. Hans Holländer toteaa fragmenttien, keskeneräisten tai osittain tuhoutuneiden teosten, olevan mysteerien tavoin hermeettisesti suljettuja: ne ovat haaste niitä kokoavalle mielikuvitukselle, mutta päinvastoin kuin mysteerit, fragmentit eivät palaudu mihinkään yhteen oikeaan ratkaisuun, mikä tekee niistä myös paradoksaalisesti avoimia2. Keskeneräinen rakennus tai teos ei ole vielä saavuttanut lopullista muotoaan, raunioituva taas lopullista tuhoaan. Fragmentti on kuin – ainakin potentiaalisesti – elävä organismi. Tämä organismi voi olla vaikkapa puolustusasemiin piikkipalloksi käpertynyt siili, kuten varhaisromantiikan keskeisen teoreetikon, Friedrich Schlegelin, usein siteerattu määritelmä kuuluu.3

Durasin Intia-syklin loputtomat tanssiaiset Hermeettisesti suljetut monimieliset fragmentit eivät kuulu ainoastaan rakennus- ja maalaustaiteeseen. Keväällä 2010 kirjoitan opinnäytetyötä Marguerite Durasin vangitsevasta4 Intia-syklistä, joka koostuu kolmesta romaanista ja kolmesta elokuvasta. Sykli ei tarjoa vastaanottajalleen mitään lopullista sulkeumaa, sillä sen osat pikemminkin purkavat toisiaan kuin antavat yhteen sommiteltuina jonkin lineaarisesti rakentuvan loppuratkaisun. Innostun, kun luen Laure Adlerin kirjoittamasta elämäkerrasta, että Durasin elokuvissa India Song (1974) ja Son Nom de Venise dans Calcutta désert (1976) käytetty rapistunut ja hylätty huvila, joka esittää britti-

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Lightpress Oy

LASKU

Nummenniityntie 28 20780 KAARINA

Laskupäivä

Laskunumero

Toimituspäivä

Tilausnumero

24.01.2012

69159

24.01.2012

16306

Tilaaja

Asiakasnumero

Kristian Jalava

kristianjalava@gmail.com

Tarjous/tarjouspäivä

Toimituskohde

Viitteemme

Käsittelijä

Mirva Hollstén

Viitteenne

Tilauspäivä

24.01.2012

Maksuehto

Eräpäivä

14 päivää netto

07.02.2012

Toimitusehto

Tuote

Selite

á-hinta

Alv-%

Alv €

Yhteensä €

060203

Tuloste 440x310 mm 80g cyclus

12 kpl

0,40

1,10

5,90

060203

Vihko A4 16-siv. 140g silk

1 kpl

1,60

0,37

1,97

060203

Vihko A4 16-siv 140g silk 2x11 kpl

22 kpl

1,60

8,10

43,30

060204

Vihko A4 16-siv. 80g cyclus 2x11 kpl

22 kpl

1,60

8,10

43,30

060204

Vihko A4 16-siv. 140g silk 2x11 kpl

22 kpl

1,60

8,10

43,30

060203

Vihko A4 16-siv. 80g cyclus 2x11 kpl

22 kpl

1,60

8,10

43,30

060203

Vihko 16-siv. 140g silk

18 kpl

1,60

6,62

35,42

060204

Vihko 20-siv. 140g silk

4 kpl

2,00

1,84

9,84

060203

Vihko 16-siv. 80g cyclus

18 kpl

1,60

6,62

35,42

060203

Vihko 20-siv. 80g cyclus

4 kpl

2,00

1,84

9,84

060203

Vihko 20-siv. 140g silk

2 kpl

2,00

0,92

4,92

060204

Vihko 16-siv. 140g silk

20 kpl

1,60

7,36

39,36

060203

Vihko 20-siv. 80g cyclus

2 kpl

2,00

0,92

4,92

Käsittelykulu

1 kpl

3,00

0,69

3,69

Käyttäkää maksaessanne viitettä

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0746602-2 Turku

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571004-285656 FI47 5710 0420 0856 56 OKOYFIHH

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Loneliness of the Project Room

Hibernal solstice / March 10

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Loneliness of the Project Room

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The fifth dimension of the serial publication.

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 D9T4gSo/UBOFW1Kgp06NdZmFAVsa8NX3Mz7+NbsyZFfGA9P+yxzso4WVlVjZiJUtt7LnVo7cyplfOfMrV2HlLqw8xZW3uPKVVr7Syl9aBchVkFyHKjcgvYPoHVC7iVVvYrUbYG8D1DZAdQNUN0BtHaut47VNuDh1ZvpmiDZDtDXVcWYYLzHy5yfBwvSd5xLfS6HtucD6XGh9IbYfK9xnau+x0vNC5vpaaP2Ka37KNT3jWV6KHady97nCc6nyXWn819rAtTZwpQlcqP3nSu+p3HMq954pfZfaENcY45kBviUusMTFtrjUkZQ5EnJbTGIJCg1OntbMVes5aiNXa+UbfUJLVGhNCKxJrjF2rQtf6 yIcQ5RvSQisoMAKCixJnjnOMwFcU+zaEL3ShS80wTN14EwdONcEzzWBC23oUhu61IYuNMEz9f6lM3XgTBO80IaudOFrfZhjCHOMUZ45LrRBIjssskN8c4JnivFNgNCSFDtgiTMldqYlgTLPnOAao9f6MMcQ4RiiXGOUa4xxjTGuMcp5JcY1AVxTnGuK88wJvhXkW5I8c4JrinNMwLURuDax4hxTnGtOCmywwA4LbBDXlLgyRK+NMa45IbDDYhcicSJiByy0Jvns2w2xK33kWh+5NkSv9dFLXeRSF7rQhi60oSt9mF3PMca4xn3pXGPsWh++UPvP1f5LbfBaH+EYY9eGyJUudKEJnKl8Z0rv 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 YKLx55/4m+f72r14yzb/40rn6hdKD18fSOcbSayWxKpJrMretcNy9c/YIfYnJP+06l/kh+z5+4B4LUXUrtReqSWCEA0Ir8HZ6mOpbBX6QRfhzVoE4fua/Fqt+AHH8xeU9dZa+udeYThb98SwPwotsVQReq3jaoBEEySaENEE8T/rTh1O6oee17/A66Ucm uRbtoQOr8LZOvyq8b52VZFcwxFOfyM032zWu3/n/+5v9a6owhqBs/UkVktg1W9LYjUoW9O7AFemF6EWoeIkXJpFqUWsvIyV2T+LWrzD13pBvB6GyX+3IikqCJW+5plCUCmcopJYFcnVU49A2dq/+UH+q12KQLLwNc8UhslwioqlqzG0GkOrUa QSQ6vsr//mB/mvA8IbFyqPwBBM4vUoQsWQMpAug1g1kqIAtBJDylGE+jc/yH8dIF6/Unul1mgSq0dSpDdJeZOUO045AMoVp7xJKpIiw6l/++P87y2KlL3x3DO+KYpQIbgUTVcAvBlOUYEw4vUm3S7A6YoF4rlw6v//FSOGlB1h7Buh+eb2fr2929zc 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 yreBNBUACwDegojG2860GEGqCbwWSVEAWo2kyAhSAdBqBP7Wcf6PA361nMRqZwonV+ePpssdZnKzvd3tdhBWLFKV+WK5vb0bTReB/5e99wyS67ryPOvDftzZiP28MbPTPRPd0drtUbd2elrqljctSiJFiiRAeBRQ3nvvvffee5Plq9J7/9J7732Z9N5

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Opening / Vernissage / Aukeama 16-18 in UTC time (18-20 in UTC+2)

Hibernal solstice / March 16

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Hibernal solstice / March 17

Spring reception

17.-26.3 Kevätpäiväntasauksena (20.3. kello 12.30, UTC 11.30) kevätlehden julkaisutilaisuus vastaanotto (toinen / vieras, informaatio, kevät)

Hibernal, Vernal, Estival, Autumnal in Chronicle condition

Julkinen tila, julkaisun tila

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The Loneliness of the Prjoject Room floor plan OPEN HOURS 9-16 in UTC (11-18 in UTC+2)

Canon EOS 500 N

Tilan editoiminen, lisääminen, poistaminen, itseään korjaava systeemi, toiminnallinen, elävä, digitaalinen kronikka

Ympärillä kortteli; (polkupyörän appropriaatio) kuvan ja esineen suhde toisiinsa PDF portable digital file

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Project Room, Lรถnnrotinkatu 35, Helsinki

Hibernal solstice / March 18

Vieraskirja, (kirjoittamalla nimesi otat osaa teokseen)

Marraskuun 11. päivän kohdalta löytyy fragmentaarinen teksti “On tavallinen päivä”.

Toimituksen maailmankuva; Pääkirjoitus? Essee? Informaatio? Temporal collapse of .. irrational Narratiivi, kerronta, jatkumo luovat hetkellisen selkeyden

The Loneliness Loneliness of of the the Prjoject Prjoject Room Room The

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sivulle

Premissit; tasaus-ja seisauspäivät; gregoriaaninen kalenteri (UTC) ja länsimainen kirjansidonta

Säännöllisyys, sarjallisuus, kestollisuus, kroonisuus, krooninen tila vapaus Päivittäinen logiikka - näyttelyn päivät tulevat osaksi lehteä;

Keskeneräinen, valmis, Reception; informaatio, systeemi, vieras, Editorial; toimitus, toiminta Makhazan; varasto, alitajunta

Pimeä huone; Hyvin valaistusta informaation tilasta projisoituu kuvajainen pimeään tilaan, Päällekkäinen, fiktiivinen taso; suunnitelma, pohjapiirros - Tässä on myös odotushuoneen vessa.

seuraavalle

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Hibernal solstice / March 19

Haft Sin, Tehran, 1389. Nowruz marks the first day of spring and the beginning of the year in Iranian calendar. It is celebrated on the day of the astronomical vernal equinox, which usually occurs on March 21 or the previous/following day depending on where it is observed.

Noruz Tuli on Noruzin tunnus. Noruzin viettäjiä Istanbulissa. Noruz (myös Newroz ja Nowruz; pers. ‫زورون‏‬‎, noʊˈɾuːz, ”uusi päivä”, kirjaimellisesti ”uusi valo”) on perinteinen iranilainen uudenvuodenjuhla.[1] Noruzia kutsutaan myös persialaiseksi uudeksi vuodeksi.[2] Juhlaa vietetään kevätpäiväntasauksen mukaan 19.03. - 21.03. . Unesco lisäsi noruzin aineettoman kulttuuriperinnön luetteloon vuonna 2009.[3] Newroz on kurdien ja persialaisten uudenvuodenjuhla. Kurdit ja persialaiset ovat viettäneet Newroz- juhlaa jo 2715 vuotta ja se on ainoa juhla, joka yhdistää kaikkia iranilaisia kansoja. Kurdit ja persialaiset ovat ainoa kansa, joka pitää Newrozia omana uutena vuotena virallisesti. Newroz on jäänyt iranilaisten kansojen kultturiin zarathustralaisuuden ajoilta n. 3000 vuotta sitten.[4] Sisällysluettelo [piilota] 1 Juhlapöytä 2 Kuvia Haft-Seen-juhlapöydistä 3 Lähteet 4 Aiheesta muualla Juhlapöytä[muokkaa | muokkaa wikitekstiä] Perinteinen Haft-Seen -juhlapöytä Haft-Seen tai myös Haft Sīn (Seitsemän S:ää) on perinteinen Noruz-juhlan juhlaruokapöytä, jossa on 7 symbolista ainesta, joiden farsinkieliset nimet alkavat S-kirjaimella.[5] Haft-Seen -juhlapöydän pääainekset ovat: Sabzeh – vehnän, ohran, vihreän pavun tai linssin ituja lautasella - symboloi uudestisyntymää Samanu – vehnänjyvistä mämmin tapaan imellyttämällä valmistettu ruoka – symboloi hedelmällisyyttä ja vaurautta Senjed – kuivattuja villioliivin hedelmiä – symboloi rakkautta Seer - valkosipuleita – symboloi terveyttä ja lääkitystä Seeb - omena – symboloi kauneutta Somāq - sumakin marjoja – symboloi auringonnousun väriä Serkeh - etikkaa – symboloi pitkää ikää ja kärsivällisyyttä Lisäksi Haft-Seen -pöydässä voi olla muutakin, esimerkiksi peili, koristemaalattuja kananmunia, lamppu tai kynttilöitä, leipää, vesikulho, kolikoita, sypressin tai männyt oksia, kultakalamalja, persialainen runokirja tai uskontokirja. Noruzperinteeseen kuuluu että Haft-Seen -pöytä valmistellaan kevätpäiväntasauksen alla ja perhe asettuu pöydän ääreen odottamaan täsmällistä kevätpäiväntasauksen aikaa, jolloin Noruz-juhlan viettoon myös kuuluvat uudenvuodenlahjat annetaan. Kuvia Haft-Seen-juhlapöydistä[muokkaa | muokkaa wikitekstiä] Haft Seen -pöytä Haft Seen -pöytä Haft Seen -pöytä

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Haft Seen -pöytä

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The Loneliness of the Prjoject Room

Hibernal solstice / March 20