#373 – Indebted to the Federal Government

March 1st, 2010

when it comes to debt, the federal government remains a valued brand.

You wouldn’t think companies would want to be associated with the federal government in any way these days. But when it comes to debt, the state remains viable as a commodified brand.

Images of the White House and Capitol predominate in advertisements for private, for-profit debt settlement companies. These ads are presented in mock newscast style, as if they were public service announcements.

It’s as if the state, declared dead, cursed for its tax collecting and other infringements, now returns, like a zombie. Only now it’s a puppet government. Corporate CEOs pull the strings. Dollar signs appear in the eye holes of the masks. Interest accumulates on stage.

This phantasmagorical entity dances across the proscenium, casting a mere shadow of actual state power on the backdrop. Nonetheless, the lingering power of even the commodified image of the federal government reminds us that we may yet have witnessed the final curtain for state power.

The debt settlement companies in these advertisements imitate New Deal alphabet soup federal programs in their names. And they echo the Obamanian call for the continued role of government in their slogans. The NMHC—the National Mortgage Help Center—declares, “Let’s get through this together!” after showing an image of President Obama himself and mentioning the federal stimulus act of 2009.

Notice, though, if you log on to the group’s website, an important disclaimer: “The ‘National Mortgage Help Center’ is not affiliated in any way with any government program. The National Mortgage Help Center is a for profit business that educates the general public and works with attorneys and brokers to reduce monthly mortgage payments through loan modifications.”

How American it is, then, to see the federal government at once so trivialized and yet so crucial. The public interest, corporate interests, and plain old interest collide in debt collection.

But there remain bills to be settled yet.

#372 – The Militarization of Social Networking

March 1st, 2010

data mining for saddam.

Yikes! The Internet returns to its military origins, or, watch out who you befriend on Facebook: a new, five-part series at Slate, Chris Wilson’s “Searching for Saddam”, on “how the U.S. military used social networking to capture the Iraqi dictator.”

#371 – A New Ballet Mécanique

March 1st, 2010

thinking through the digital & the body.

Digital Incarnate: The Body, Identity, and Interactive Media, an exhibition at Columbia College, features multiple paths to the place where the corporeal and virtual meet. This is a place with a long history: humans have been pondering the body and the mind, the physical and the mental, for millennia. But it’s also a new place: a site in which the technologies of the digital both echo older histories and point-click toward unknown destinations.

Digital Incarnate @ The Arcade Gallery, Columbia College Chicago, February 8 – April 2, 2010.

Two of the displays—Luftwerk’s Doppelgänger and Troika Ranch’s Liquid Mirror—are playful and fun. They pull the viewer’s body into the digital through shadow play, silhouettes, and light shows. Actual limbs and their visual extensions blur on a dark screen in Luftwerk’s piece and flickers of light in Troika Ranch’s vertical screens.

One thinks Marshall McLuhan here, but also, glimpsing darker shadows in the shadow and light, x-ray scanners at the airport and other modes of surveillance. The body seemed to evaporate into the digital in these pieces in ways that were at first frolicsome, but increasingly ominous: the body etherealized, but also filled with foreboding.

OpenEnded Group’s Paul Kaiser and Shelley Eshkar lean toward the traditions of animation in their collaborations with Bill T. Jones and Merce Cunningham. The OpenEnded pieces—Ghostcatching and Hand-drawn Spaces—are striking for how much they reproduce the signature styles of these two famous choreographers in digital form.

As Kaiser explained in his talk, the transformation of Jones’ body to the digital realm revealed his muscular, flowing, vibrant dance style (the markers to record Jones’s dancing body would literally rip off as he moved). When OpenEnded Group combined the motion of a male and female dancer in a Cunningham piece, the angular, skeletal aspects of Cunningham’s choreography remained. They were even accentuated by the merging of two actual bodies into one digital body. Cunningham’s already-abstract emptying out of subjectivity and control from his dancers’ bodies were even more ghostly and phantom-like as they flashed across three screens.

A final computer station features a collaboration between the choreographer William Forsythe and  researchers at Ohio State University. Synchronous Objects, a complex digitalization of Forsythe’s One Flat Thing, reproduced, feels like a lab report, but one that is endlessly entertaining. One Flat Thing becomes quite multidimensional, almost overwhelmingly so—it is indeed reproduced. The user can instruct the computer to map out different aspects of the dance: traces of the dancers’ limbs, the negative space between the dancers, particular relationships between different dancers, and more.

I’m not sure if it’s art or science, or both, but it is something. One plugs into the matrix, in control of data that may lead to new programs of the very self. As fingers manipulate a dance of virtual space, bodies may simply become like so many other buttons, knobs, dials, and touch screens that we use to move between the flesh itself and our machines. Or, perhaps, at the module, our bodies tap into a grid we never knew we already occupied. We begin to glimpse a secret map of the place where inside and outside might merge in what essayist Sondra Fraleigh calls “the elusive soma,” the “body mysterium.”

Choreography has become cartography. We reach the edge of skin at the synapses of the circuit board, and feel, for a moment, sitting in front of a boring screen, waiting for a video to upload, the electrifying shock of watching the material leap into the virtual—what is becoming what might be.

#370 – Critiquing Critique

March 1st, 2010

beyond beyond critical thinking.

In “Beyond Critical Thinking,” Michael Roth offers an intriguing argument that humanities scholars should turn from offering critique to creating norms. But ultimately it feels like a strawman argument.

Roth creates too strong a binary between norms-creation and critique. There are more supple ways to imagination the relationship between building ideas or values up and tearing them down.

One better question might be, as Joel Pfister puts it, critique for what? What’s the end of critique?

Another better question might be, what kind of critique?

It strikes me that there are many kinds of critique, offered with multiple motivations and goals, and articulated in multiple modes and idioms. There can be sympathetic critique, criticism offered in the spirit of negation, and condemnation offered as insistent refusal. There can be a critique driven by reason and one driven by emotions, and most driven by some combination of both. Critique can be nihilistic and suffocating and it can provide oxygen and life support. There can be the cliched “constructive critique” and there can be questioning that lingers between rejection and acceptance, and there can be a kind of Trojan Horse critique that arrives in the guise of a gift while actually seeking to destroy all.

Roth’s article begins to add nuance to the pedagogy of critique. Humanists might do more than teach our students the techniques of dismissal, the ability to locate inconsistencies and holes in arguments and drive a stake (or a truck) through them.

But dismissal and refusal are not the same thing as critique, which might be more elastic, capacious, and perhaps even generative than Roth suggests.

#369 – Nonsense and Sensibility

March 1st, 2010

hearing the seriousness in the silliness of they might be giants.

Person man, person man / Hit on the head with a frying pan / Lives his life in a garbage can / Person man / Is he depressed or is he a mess? / Does he feel totally worthless? / Who came up with person man? / Degraded man, person man – They Might Be Giants, “Particle Man”

At first, it all sounds like so much silliness that you want to tag all the music as novelty songs. They Might Be Giants seem to amount to nothing more than silly stoner-nerd fantasies, art-school concepts gone too cute, lyrical gimmicks and goofy Beatleseque musical quotations that float by harmlessly but slowly start to annoy. We all live in a yellow polka dot bikini, etc.

But re-listening to the songs of They Might Be Giants reminded me that there’s much more to their music than just cotton-candy fluff. What’s most intriguing about the duo of two Johns—Flansburgh and Linnell—is that it achieves a tone that mingles silliness and seriousness in a peculiar arrangement.

Two Johns: Flansburgh and Linnell of They Might Be Giants

The absurdist lyrics of songs such as “Particle Man,” “Doctor Worm,” and “I Palindrome I” are like deadpan jokes. You start to laugh, but the more you listen, the less funny they become, the more they become tales about feelings of sadness, shame, guilt, revenge, bitterness, and other emotions one would never expect to lurk in silly sounds. These are comics who wrap bitter truths inside gaffaws. Theirs are truly punch lines.

The songs of They Might Be Giants lead to unexpected comparisons. I think of the lyrics of songs such as “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” which also mingle the silly with the serious. This music draws blood from nursery rhymes, offers a sensibility rendered from nonsense. Like Nirvana, They Might Be Giants let us smell the stink beneath the underarm deodorant, show us how power lurks in playfulness, and shrink-wrap the void into the details of even the most vacuous trash of contemporary lives.

#368 – The Idea of the Marketplace, Continued

February 18th, 2010

grafton on distinguishing the humanities from the marketplace.

Anthony Grafton weighs in on Louis Menand’s The Marketplace of Ideas:

But thinking about the academy only, or mainly, as a market is another matter. As Menand unwittingly shows, it narrows the field of vision. The humanities need reform because their traditions are confining and their job market is a catastrophe, but reform cannot mean surrender, or dilution. It means finding out how to do what the scientists have already done: how to combine the rigor of tradition with experiment and innovation–but without replacing hordes of underpaid adjuncts with hordes of underpaid post-docs, as the scientists have. More generally, it means finding creative ways to make life instructively hard, for a few years, for the broadest range of talented people of all sorts and conditions whom we can educate and then employ productively and decently. What makes reform urgent is the passion, the erudition, and the intelligence of those whom the academy is now failing–the sheer destruction of talent and love and energy, of the traditions of deep learning, over which we humanists are presiding. The masters of the next generation are still knocking on our doors, but most of them find themselves too busy speeding down the freeway to their next campus, grading stacks of papers, and worrying about their debts to learn as they wish to learn and as we need them to learn. They are missing from Menand’s cool, lucid, and limited book, as they are from so much of what is thought and written about us humanists in these bad days.

From “Humanities and Inhumanities,” New Republic.

#367 – Metered Out

February 13th, 2010

the state is dead, long live the state.


#366 – Aggregation Elation

February 11th, 2010

digesting bookforum’s omnivore blog.

I remain amazed at the continual flow of articles and links at Bookforum’s Omnivore blog. Its authors remain in the shadows—in fact, they might best be called blog editors instead of authors—but their assemblages are magnificent examples of materials organized in playfully thematic ways.

#365 – Culture Rover’s Unfamiliar Quotations

February 10th, 2010

In spite of worthy, and indeed indispensable, attempts to become different, history, as its clearsighted practitioners are obliged to admit, can never completely divest itself of myth. – Claude Levi-Strauss

#364 – The Digital Made Flesh

February 9th, 2010

koosil-ja/dancekumiko’s algorhythms.

A cyborg is a cybernetic organism, a hybrid of machine and organism, a creature of social reality as well as a creature of fiction. Social reality is lived social relations, our most important political construction, a world-changing fiction. – Donna Haraway, “A Cyborg Manifesto”

Blocks of Continuality/Body, Image, and Algorithm, Koosil-ja/danceKUMIKO’s multimedia dance performance, explores “the coexistence of the digital and flesh worlds” to dramatize “the potential of a dynamically networked body situated in digital environment.”

At first you are drawn to the screens onstage, trying to grasp how the dancers are “playing” them, but soon this grows frustrating, and you realize that it makes much more sense to watch the dancers themselves, and the ways they are registering the onslaught of images and sounds. But even that starts to lose its centrality. One is ultimately left in a Benjaminian “state of distraction,” lost in the dizzying architecture of the digital network, bodies dancing through in fragmented bits and bytes.

In the opening series of pieces, images of traditional dancers, advertisements, famous paintings and sculptures, and other material flash up on the screens and the dancers cut and paste movements together from these digital sources. A girl kicks her foot against a wall, repeatedly. And the dancers follow suit. An African tribal ceremony shifts to a Picasso nude to an advertisement for cigarettes. The dancers seek to lose themselves—and the audience—in the gestural mix. It is not altogether unlike Merce Cunningham’s Cage-ian efforts to choreograph dance by improvisatory chance rather than controlled design. One is not surprised to learn that Hwang studied with Cunningham.

The final piece of the performance grows more intriguing when the dancers attach digital sensors to their bodies, and musician Geoff Gersh plays a large thumping pneumatic bar with his brain waves (also by digital sensor). Here the give and take between digital and flesh promises to be most “dynamically networked.” However, the results are a bit disappointing. The screens feature rather stereotypical “virtual world” imagery and the relationship between dancer movements and digital screens is predictable. The cyborg at this dance turns out to be a wallflower.

What is oddly the most compelling moment is when the dancers, musician, and technicians alike incorporate the wiring up of technology into the performance itself. The choice to lay bare the process of getting into digital gear, calibrating the equipment’s remote control capacities, and verbally announcing when the dance is about to begin (“Ready, ready, ready, go,” the call goes round) made visible the complex coordinations required in all networks. The digital, this Brechtian moment suggested, is above all else social.

It is indeed the sociality of the digital network that Koosil-ja and danceKUMIKO start to summon into heightened form. This sociality is where the flesh and the digital meet. The social body is between the buttons, on the beams, and in a digital ether whose long tail turns out to be embodied itself: it’s the foot of a young woman kicking against a wall.