.
I want to try to go beyond what I do and know how to do. But I don't particularly know how to do anything.
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February 27, 2012
February 24, 2012
Perverse curating
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Perverse curating / rainbow or darkness / dressing up and acting normal / boring lecture on a fascinating topic / failures come alive / the meta-questions play free bird / I'm a failure here myself / bestseller on the topic of spectacular sexual failure / guitar solos of spectacular width and brevity / the meta-questions play startled stallion / how to photograph inedible food attractively so that people will actually want to eat it / mansions emptied for foreclosure / like a mirror carried along a road / the economy of unwanted attentions / boredom is different nowadays / maybe we’re excessively unbored / experiments in community theater / the something that already exists / over-budget for a video of a video of hell / the economy of unwanted attentions / a few honest paragraphs about each of the performances I have been involved in over the last fifteen years / visual art can now be anything, but how often does anything become something? / no double life for the weekend / Momus and Jay-Z / the great discovery of the 21st century is that what is local is also most sophisticated / the international artist is a capitalist fantasy / Monsanto, alternative energies and depression / sickly prima donna / it must be strange to be that much of a rock star without actually being a rock star / when attitudes become farms / the words in a sentence / whipping a disco ball / we come from Montreal, please invite us somewhere warm in February
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Perverse curating / rainbow or darkness / dressing up and acting normal / boring lecture on a fascinating topic / failures come alive / the meta-questions play free bird / I'm a failure here myself / bestseller on the topic of spectacular sexual failure / guitar solos of spectacular width and brevity / the meta-questions play startled stallion / how to photograph inedible food attractively so that people will actually want to eat it / mansions emptied for foreclosure / like a mirror carried along a road / the economy of unwanted attentions / boredom is different nowadays / maybe we’re excessively unbored / experiments in community theater / the something that already exists / over-budget for a video of a video of hell / the economy of unwanted attentions / a few honest paragraphs about each of the performances I have been involved in over the last fifteen years / visual art can now be anything, but how often does anything become something? / no double life for the weekend / Momus and Jay-Z / the great discovery of the 21st century is that what is local is also most sophisticated / the international artist is a capitalist fantasy / Monsanto, alternative energies and depression / sickly prima donna / it must be strange to be that much of a rock star without actually being a rock star / when attitudes become farms / the words in a sentence / whipping a disco ball / we come from Montreal, please invite us somewhere warm in February
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February 9, 2012
Solidarity is hard: preliminary notes on violence, non-violence and the magic of divide and conquer (with some afterthoughts concerning co-operation)
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I read a bunch of articles on the internet about the Black Bloc, Occupy and Oakland: the one that went viral by Chris Hedges, a trenchant response by David Graeber (my favourite), and some more responses in Counterpunch (also good) and Jacobin. I have often found Hedges inspiring in the recent past and now I'm turning on him a bit. But let's see what he does next. Everyone should be allowed a few striking mistakes. I know I've made millions. I hope it's simply an error in judgment and not the beginning of a witch hunt.
I don’t feel I have enough activist experience to weigh in on these issues, but I’ve been thinking about it all so much lately, and see no reason not to add my reflections (for the forty or fifty people who might read this.)
I usually fall on the side of non-violence, feel that violence most often leads to more of the same. But there are no hard and fast rules. We must carefully take things on a case by case basis, there are certainly some instances in which violence is the best strategy, and as long as state violence rules the day there will be a strong desire to fight back.
What bothers me more: why is it so difficult to have a reasonable dialog among people who disagree on certain points? Why all the name-calling and strife? (Come on: cancer? Why not the black plague, at least the color scheme is right.) Why are the terms so absolute? There need to be disagreements about strategy and about intent - agonism (in Mouffe’s awkward term) - but productive disagreement seems too rare. (Actually, Occupy has been a beacon of productive disagreement. I mean in the world, there seems to be too little productive disagreement in the world. Or at least in my life.)
I believe all of this has something to do with a desire for purity: I’m more left than you are, more pure, my ideas more perfect. I wonder if there is some way of speaking of an “impure left” as something worth searching for. Of course, many have done so, in so many different ways. There is a history of this search. What is effective, and who is the most pure, are separate questions, though rarely treated as such.
The psychological dynamic of being further radicalized by political disappointment needs to be addressed. As a story it makes sense: I tried non-violence, nothing happened, so now I want to get serious. I think everyone can relate to this desire. That’s not to say it should be acted on, but the fact that’s it’s an understandable impulse should always be present in any given debate.
There are many roads from violence to non-violence and back again. No one key will open every lock. An effective opposition must be slippery like soap, full of surprises. There is nothing to be gained from being absolutely predictable.
Infiltration and agent provocateurs are extremely effective government strategies. I would like to hear more about ways to work against their effectiveness. Ways to talk about these questions that open something up. I have no idea what these ways might be.
Also, I feel behind all of this is the magic of divide and conquer. Not exactly a conspiracy, though that certainly happens often enough, more like a daily reality. Sow divisions in the opposition, generate a few cracks and maybe the thing will break. And there are, of course, legitimate divisions. Many. I’m not saying anyone has to be one big, happy family. But with every statement, every rhetorical flourish, one might think: is the value of this statement worth the division it will generate? Are there ways of speaking about these questions that don’t make the person I’m criticizing so defensive that all communication breaks down? Will speaking of things in these terms do more harm than good? (Maybe this is an overly Canadian perspective, since Canadians have a reputation for being polite and considerate, though I feel much of this Canadianess is only a cover for the reality of being passive-aggressive. And, again, maybe I’m only talking about myself.)
The enemy (the very rich, the military state, the free market mafia) is immense and victory against them is unlikely. Solidarity is hard but necessary. I am, personally, terrible at solidarity, not sure I even know what it really is, what it feels like, or even if it’s useful all the time. It is just another magic word for me. I wonder if this will ever change.
I will try to think more about all of this. What I have written here is not nearly enough, barely a beginning. Hopefully, there are more insights in my future. It is always the same for me: how to speak about these questions in new ways, how to think things differently?
[P.S. Just saw a poster (on the internet) that said: Be careful with each other, so you can be dangerous together. And above they had written: That's what solidarity is. A pretty good summation of what I was trying to say above.]
And now it's one day later and I just read this article by Richard Sennett entitled All together now: Montaigne and the art of co-operation in the Guardian. (I so like these little mental coincidences, when one comes across something directly connected to the questions one is wondering about.) Sennett prefers the idea of co-operation to that of solidarity and goes on to explain:
I am still thinking all of this through, but I believe Sennett is suggesting that solidarity always takes place against something or someone, while co-operation can happen more quietly, in the daily interactions of working together. In this sense co-operation must be the basis for all solidarity, the way we learn to work together so, if need be, we can fight together later on. And, if I were contiue this line of thought, solidarity is so difficult today because the basic habits of daily co-operation are absent. (Well, this is not what Sennett says, but it is what I'm wondering.)
.
I read a bunch of articles on the internet about the Black Bloc, Occupy and Oakland: the one that went viral by Chris Hedges, a trenchant response by David Graeber (my favourite), and some more responses in Counterpunch (also good) and Jacobin. I have often found Hedges inspiring in the recent past and now I'm turning on him a bit. But let's see what he does next. Everyone should be allowed a few striking mistakes. I know I've made millions. I hope it's simply an error in judgment and not the beginning of a witch hunt.
I don’t feel I have enough activist experience to weigh in on these issues, but I’ve been thinking about it all so much lately, and see no reason not to add my reflections (for the forty or fifty people who might read this.)
I usually fall on the side of non-violence, feel that violence most often leads to more of the same. But there are no hard and fast rules. We must carefully take things on a case by case basis, there are certainly some instances in which violence is the best strategy, and as long as state violence rules the day there will be a strong desire to fight back.
What bothers me more: why is it so difficult to have a reasonable dialog among people who disagree on certain points? Why all the name-calling and strife? (Come on: cancer? Why not the black plague, at least the color scheme is right.) Why are the terms so absolute? There need to be disagreements about strategy and about intent - agonism (in Mouffe’s awkward term) - but productive disagreement seems too rare. (Actually, Occupy has been a beacon of productive disagreement. I mean in the world, there seems to be too little productive disagreement in the world. Or at least in my life.)
I believe all of this has something to do with a desire for purity: I’m more left than you are, more pure, my ideas more perfect. I wonder if there is some way of speaking of an “impure left” as something worth searching for. Of course, many have done so, in so many different ways. There is a history of this search. What is effective, and who is the most pure, are separate questions, though rarely treated as such.
The psychological dynamic of being further radicalized by political disappointment needs to be addressed. As a story it makes sense: I tried non-violence, nothing happened, so now I want to get serious. I think everyone can relate to this desire. That’s not to say it should be acted on, but the fact that’s it’s an understandable impulse should always be present in any given debate.
There are many roads from violence to non-violence and back again. No one key will open every lock. An effective opposition must be slippery like soap, full of surprises. There is nothing to be gained from being absolutely predictable.
Infiltration and agent provocateurs are extremely effective government strategies. I would like to hear more about ways to work against their effectiveness. Ways to talk about these questions that open something up. I have no idea what these ways might be.
Also, I feel behind all of this is the magic of divide and conquer. Not exactly a conspiracy, though that certainly happens often enough, more like a daily reality. Sow divisions in the opposition, generate a few cracks and maybe the thing will break. And there are, of course, legitimate divisions. Many. I’m not saying anyone has to be one big, happy family. But with every statement, every rhetorical flourish, one might think: is the value of this statement worth the division it will generate? Are there ways of speaking about these questions that don’t make the person I’m criticizing so defensive that all communication breaks down? Will speaking of things in these terms do more harm than good? (Maybe this is an overly Canadian perspective, since Canadians have a reputation for being polite and considerate, though I feel much of this Canadianess is only a cover for the reality of being passive-aggressive. And, again, maybe I’m only talking about myself.)
The enemy (the very rich, the military state, the free market mafia) is immense and victory against them is unlikely. Solidarity is hard but necessary. I am, personally, terrible at solidarity, not sure I even know what it really is, what it feels like, or even if it’s useful all the time. It is just another magic word for me. I wonder if this will ever change.
I will try to think more about all of this. What I have written here is not nearly enough, barely a beginning. Hopefully, there are more insights in my future. It is always the same for me: how to speak about these questions in new ways, how to think things differently?
[P.S. Just saw a poster (on the internet) that said: Be careful with each other, so you can be dangerous together. And above they had written: That's what solidarity is. A pretty good summation of what I was trying to say above.]
And now it's one day later and I just read this article by Richard Sennett entitled All together now: Montaigne and the art of co-operation in the Guardian. (I so like these little mental coincidences, when one comes across something directly connected to the questions one is wondering about.) Sennett prefers the idea of co-operation to that of solidarity and goes on to explain:
The 20th century perverted co-operation in the name of solidarity. The regimes that spoke in the name of unity were not only tyrannies; the very desire for solidarity invites command and manipulation from the top. The perverse power of solidarity, in its "us-against-them" form, remains alive in the civil societies of liberal democracies, as in European attitudes toward immigrants who seem to threaten social solidarity, or in American demands for a return to "family values".
Solidarity has been the left's traditional response to the evils of capitalism. Co-operation in itself has not figured much as a strategy for resistance. Though the emphasis is in one way realistic, it has also sapped the strength of the left. The new forms of capitalism emphasise short-term labour and institutional fragmentation; the effect of this economic system has been that workers cannot sustain supportive social relations with one another. In the west, the distance between the elite and the mass is increasing, as inequality grows more pronounced in neo-liberal regimes such as those of Britain and the US; members of these societies have less and less a fate to share in common. The new capitalism permits power to detach itself from authority, the elite living in global detachment from responsibilities to others on the ground, especially during times of economic crisis. Under these conditions, as ordinary people are driven back on themselves, it's no wonder they crave solidarity of some sort – which the destructive solidarity of "us-against-them" is tailor-made to provide.
It's little wonder also that a distinctive character type has been bred by this crossing of political and economic power, a character type seeking to relieve experiences of anxiety. Individualism of the sort Tocqueville describes might seem to La Boétie, were he alive today, a new kind of voluntary servitude, the individual in thrall to his or her own anxieties, searching for a sense of security in the familiar. But the word "individualism" names, I believe, a social absence as well as a personal impulse: ritual is absent. Ritual's role in all human cultures is to relieve and resolve anxiety, by turning people outward in shared, symbolic acts; modern society has weakened those ritual ties. Secular rituals, particularly rituals whose point is co-operation itself, have proved too feeble to provide that support.
I am still thinking all of this through, but I believe Sennett is suggesting that solidarity always takes place against something or someone, while co-operation can happen more quietly, in the daily interactions of working together. In this sense co-operation must be the basis for all solidarity, the way we learn to work together so, if need be, we can fight together later on. And, if I were contiue this line of thought, solidarity is so difficult today because the basic habits of daily co-operation are absent. (Well, this is not what Sennett says, but it is what I'm wondering.)
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Letter to some members of Maher Shalal Hash Baz (who I have yet to meet) in preparation for our performance together
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Hello Maher Shalal members,
First, I would just like to thank you all so much for agreeing to participate in our performance together. It means a lot to me. I am very excited to see what will happen.
Now I will try to describe, as clearly as possible, what I think might happen on the evening of February 16th in Yokohama. I have never tried anything quite like this before, so it will be a new experience for all of us. However, if we do it right I’m sure we will all have fun and learn a lot. My shows are always experiences that stay with people for a long time and help them think about the world in new ways.
I have divided the performance into six parts in order to be clear. I feel it is important that we keep the basic proposal as simple as possible. However, in reality the parts might not be so clear. The “parts” are mainly for us, so we have a way of speaking about the show with each other during rehearsal.
Part One: Introduction
Jacob explain his basic idea to the audience: how he began working with Tori Kudo by doing pottery and noticed that Tori lives a kind of double life: music and pottery. The idea of a double life was extremely interesting to Jacob and he will speak about why he finds it interesting. He will also speak about some of the ways he himself lives a double life. Jacob will then show the pottery he has made to the audience and explain that he will give the pottery away for free at the end of the performance.
Part Two: Pottery Begins
Tori sits at the pottery wheel and begins throwing. We ask for a volunteer from the audience to write down the words Tori hears from the wheel, and also maybe words he hears from other things happening in the performance. The words will be written on large sheets of paper on the wall and later, in part five, they will be sung. Tori continues doing pottery for the entirety of part three and four. He can also interrupt, say things, do whatever he wants.
Part Three: First Question
The members of Maher Shalal will come on stage. Jacob will ask the first question: TELL US ONE THING ABOUT WHAT IT IS LIKE TO PLAY MUSIC IN MAHER SHALAL HASH BAZ? One at a time, each member will take a few minutes to answer the question. They will be translated into English as they speak, so they will have to say one or two lines, wait for them to be translated into English, then continue speaking, wait for the next lines to be translated into English, etc. They can say whatever they want. They should try to think beforehand what one thing about playing music, or about the dynamic within Maher Shalal, they would most like to share with the audience. When each member is finished speaking they pass the microphone to the next member and it continues until everyone has answered.
Part Four: Second Question
Jacob will ask the second question: TELL US ONE THING ABOUT YOUR JOB? The members can speak about any job they want, and also answer in any way they want. They should think beforehand what they would most like to say. If they can think of a good prop to bring, a physical object that relates to their job that they can show the audience and that will help them explain, that would also be great. For example: one member will bring badminton equipment and play badminton, Tori is already demonstrating his pottery, etc. When each member is finished answering the second question they will go to their instrument and start quietly practicing. They can also look at the words on the wall and start to form musical loops around them.
Part Five: Music
When everyone is finished answering the second question they will all already be at their instruments. Tori and Jacob will join the band and everyone will play music.
Part Six: Conclusion
Jacob will give away his pottery to the audience. If more than one member of the audience wants one of his creations, they will have to explain why they want it and the best answer wins. (It is like an auction but with “reasons” instead of money.) While Jacob is doing this, Tori will collect all the pottery he has made during the course of the evening and roll the clay back into a big ball. He will create pottery during the show, but in the end it all comes full circle, it turns back into clay.
The main theme for the show is the idea of a double life. Tori will play music and do pottery. Each band member will be asked to speak about music and another job they have, two different parts of their life. Of course, we each have more than two lives but for this performance we will focus on just two. We do not need to give any answers to the audience. All we need to do is raise a few questions. If we think about our lives, the audience will see us and also think about their lives.
I do not know exactly how it will all go. It is a performance experiment, hopefully an extremely interesting one, and we can all learn a lot from it together. I look forward to meeting you all on February 16th.
Thank you again.
Jacob
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Hello Maher Shalal members,
First, I would just like to thank you all so much for agreeing to participate in our performance together. It means a lot to me. I am very excited to see what will happen.
Now I will try to describe, as clearly as possible, what I think might happen on the evening of February 16th in Yokohama. I have never tried anything quite like this before, so it will be a new experience for all of us. However, if we do it right I’m sure we will all have fun and learn a lot. My shows are always experiences that stay with people for a long time and help them think about the world in new ways.
I have divided the performance into six parts in order to be clear. I feel it is important that we keep the basic proposal as simple as possible. However, in reality the parts might not be so clear. The “parts” are mainly for us, so we have a way of speaking about the show with each other during rehearsal.
Part One: Introduction
Jacob explain his basic idea to the audience: how he began working with Tori Kudo by doing pottery and noticed that Tori lives a kind of double life: music and pottery. The idea of a double life was extremely interesting to Jacob and he will speak about why he finds it interesting. He will also speak about some of the ways he himself lives a double life. Jacob will then show the pottery he has made to the audience and explain that he will give the pottery away for free at the end of the performance.
Part Two: Pottery Begins
Tori sits at the pottery wheel and begins throwing. We ask for a volunteer from the audience to write down the words Tori hears from the wheel, and also maybe words he hears from other things happening in the performance. The words will be written on large sheets of paper on the wall and later, in part five, they will be sung. Tori continues doing pottery for the entirety of part three and four. He can also interrupt, say things, do whatever he wants.
Part Three: First Question
The members of Maher Shalal will come on stage. Jacob will ask the first question: TELL US ONE THING ABOUT WHAT IT IS LIKE TO PLAY MUSIC IN MAHER SHALAL HASH BAZ? One at a time, each member will take a few minutes to answer the question. They will be translated into English as they speak, so they will have to say one or two lines, wait for them to be translated into English, then continue speaking, wait for the next lines to be translated into English, etc. They can say whatever they want. They should try to think beforehand what one thing about playing music, or about the dynamic within Maher Shalal, they would most like to share with the audience. When each member is finished speaking they pass the microphone to the next member and it continues until everyone has answered.
Part Four: Second Question
Jacob will ask the second question: TELL US ONE THING ABOUT YOUR JOB? The members can speak about any job they want, and also answer in any way they want. They should think beforehand what they would most like to say. If they can think of a good prop to bring, a physical object that relates to their job that they can show the audience and that will help them explain, that would also be great. For example: one member will bring badminton equipment and play badminton, Tori is already demonstrating his pottery, etc. When each member is finished answering the second question they will go to their instrument and start quietly practicing. They can also look at the words on the wall and start to form musical loops around them.
Part Five: Music
When everyone is finished answering the second question they will all already be at their instruments. Tori and Jacob will join the band and everyone will play music.
Part Six: Conclusion
Jacob will give away his pottery to the audience. If more than one member of the audience wants one of his creations, they will have to explain why they want it and the best answer wins. (It is like an auction but with “reasons” instead of money.) While Jacob is doing this, Tori will collect all the pottery he has made during the course of the evening and roll the clay back into a big ball. He will create pottery during the show, but in the end it all comes full circle, it turns back into clay.
The main theme for the show is the idea of a double life. Tori will play music and do pottery. Each band member will be asked to speak about music and another job they have, two different parts of their life. Of course, we each have more than two lives but for this performance we will focus on just two. We do not need to give any answers to the audience. All we need to do is raise a few questions. If we think about our lives, the audience will see us and also think about their lives.
I do not know exactly how it will all go. It is a performance experiment, hopefully an extremely interesting one, and we can all learn a lot from it together. I look forward to meeting you all on February 16th.
Thank you again.
Jacob
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Rough english translation of Tori Kudo's notes towards our project together
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This is an overall image of the performance that we have agreed on.
This performance roughly consists of three circles (music, job and pottery) and interactions between them.
The theme is to offer an opportunity for reflection on the double life between music and job as well as on the loop that can be found in the potter’s wheel and daily routines.
Jacob imagines a double life as something like a fictitious identity for securing oneself from the world or a spy, and he thinks that that kind of double life is recommendable as an individual’s style independent of the demands of capital, because capital often requires one job and one lifestyle.
I mean that it would be nice if that can be an opportunity for the audience to think of the current situation of Japan and the way the notion of happiness is, by showing the process where the daily jobs of those who participate in Maher Shalal Hash Baz are exposed and then they play, and and to think that they want to have another secret circle and habit in their life, which are different from their official circle and habit (not just, for instance, having an anonymous Twitter account), by talking about their own lifecycle.
The performance progresses as the participants and audience talk about the relationship with their jobs, Maher and pottery.
English and Japanese are immediately translated.
What the participants are required to do is preparation.
The audience are required to participate without the preparation.
It is a very beautiful experience to see people who have never spoken in front of audience start to speak, and the main objective of this performance is to experience that.
I ask the participants to prepare what to do and to speak of about their jobs and Maher.
Everything that is involved in a performance in a broad sense must be included in that, and actually there is no rule.
The only requirement is to be oneself.
We gather in the evening, and after rehearsing, we start at 10pm.
At first, Jacob shows the pottery that he made at my place and talks about the experience. He says that it will be given to those who want it after the performance for free.
Then he asks each performer about Maher and their daily jobs.
I put clay on the wheel and start to make pieces, but I keep murmuring, converting the noise of the wheel to words. Large sheets of paper are on the wall, and the words are written on them. The performers create loops and quietly practice the loops with their instruments, looking at the words and listening to what others say. The sound shall be quiet enough not to erase the speeches, and it does not have to loop endlessly. The loops can also be changed according to the changes of the speeches of others and the words on the wall.
I make pottery with the wheel intending to make the figures of the people who are talking. They are taken off from the wheel as soon as finished and given to the one who was talking. When everyone finishes talking, everyone plays a loop together. The lyric is the words on the wall.
After that, the audience are requested to speak, and there is no plot. Maybe someone stands on the wheel, and maybe someone says they want to experience the wheel. People who want the pottery that Jacob made are required to tell why they want it (I mean, that might facilitate talking).
At 10 minutes to 11 o'clock, alcohol is offered, and the performance ends without ending.
I collect the raw pottery and reduce it to a mass of clay: what it was in the beginning.
People who stay there keep talking after the performance.
.
This is an overall image of the performance that we have agreed on.
This performance roughly consists of three circles (music, job and pottery) and interactions between them.
The theme is to offer an opportunity for reflection on the double life between music and job as well as on the loop that can be found in the potter’s wheel and daily routines.
Jacob imagines a double life as something like a fictitious identity for securing oneself from the world or a spy, and he thinks that that kind of double life is recommendable as an individual’s style independent of the demands of capital, because capital often requires one job and one lifestyle.
I mean that it would be nice if that can be an opportunity for the audience to think of the current situation of Japan and the way the notion of happiness is, by showing the process where the daily jobs of those who participate in Maher Shalal Hash Baz are exposed and then they play, and and to think that they want to have another secret circle and habit in their life, which are different from their official circle and habit (not just, for instance, having an anonymous Twitter account), by talking about their own lifecycle.
The performance progresses as the participants and audience talk about the relationship with their jobs, Maher and pottery.
English and Japanese are immediately translated.
What the participants are required to do is preparation.
The audience are required to participate without the preparation.
It is a very beautiful experience to see people who have never spoken in front of audience start to speak, and the main objective of this performance is to experience that.
I ask the participants to prepare what to do and to speak of about their jobs and Maher.
Everything that is involved in a performance in a broad sense must be included in that, and actually there is no rule.
The only requirement is to be oneself.
We gather in the evening, and after rehearsing, we start at 10pm.
At first, Jacob shows the pottery that he made at my place and talks about the experience. He says that it will be given to those who want it after the performance for free.
Then he asks each performer about Maher and their daily jobs.
I put clay on the wheel and start to make pieces, but I keep murmuring, converting the noise of the wheel to words. Large sheets of paper are on the wall, and the words are written on them. The performers create loops and quietly practice the loops with their instruments, looking at the words and listening to what others say. The sound shall be quiet enough not to erase the speeches, and it does not have to loop endlessly. The loops can also be changed according to the changes of the speeches of others and the words on the wall.
I make pottery with the wheel intending to make the figures of the people who are talking. They are taken off from the wheel as soon as finished and given to the one who was talking. When everyone finishes talking, everyone plays a loop together. The lyric is the words on the wall.
After that, the audience are requested to speak, and there is no plot. Maybe someone stands on the wheel, and maybe someone says they want to experience the wheel. People who want the pottery that Jacob made are required to tell why they want it (I mean, that might facilitate talking).
At 10 minutes to 11 o'clock, alcohol is offered, and the performance ends without ending.
I collect the raw pottery and reduce it to a mass of clay: what it was in the beginning.
People who stay there keep talking after the performance.
.
February 6, 2012
Some notes while working in the Ehime Prefecture
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I met Tori Kudo for the first time on January 25, 2012. It’s not so long ago really. He suggested we begin our collaboration by doing pottery together. Though I came to Matsuyama because I was a great fan of his music, and I know absolutely nothing about pottery, I could not think of any reason we should not begin by throwing clay. As the clay spun in front of us, I began to think of Tori’s practice as a sort of double life: on one side is music, on the other pottery. (Tori told me that he tells musicians he is a potter, while he tells potters he is a musician.) In a similar way, I also lead a double life – I make performances and write novels – and when asked how these two practices relate to one another I am never quite sure what to say. I think there is something extremely beautiful in leading this sort of double existence. When one starts to feel trapped in one part, you can always escape to the other. (So much of my life is about not wanting to feel trapped.)
Tori Kudo’s band Maher Shalal Hash Baz is a rotating group of amateur musicians. (I believe there are over fifty so far.) I started to wonder what the difference was between an amateur musician and a professional. One difference might be that a professional does work for money, while an amateur does something he or she loves whether there is money involved or not. The amateur musician might also be said to lead a kind of double life: a job during the day, music during his or her free time. At the time of writing this I have not yet met the members of Maher Shalal Hash Baz, so (during our first try-out in Yokohama on February 16th) the audience and I will meet them, more or less, at the same time. I am extremely curious to see what will happen, what they think about all of these questions, how we might turn these questions into a performance together.
I am a professional in the sense that I make my living entirely from my artistic practice. At the same time, I always approach making art with a certain amateur spirit. Often this is only a question of intuition and instinct. When I am making, I know what I'm doing and don't know what I'm doing at the same time. I see myself on the side of 'not knowing', that's my team, but also fear this 'not knowing' is only a cover for knowing all too well. I've been doing this for a long time now. I'm full of tricks and the trick is most often on me. I know from experience that my most honest work is not necessarily my most popular. People say it looks amateur. Yes, I want to explain, why can't you see that this is also beautiful. And then we are in a battle of values. I value that which is fragile and unsure, while perhaps they value something more strong, effective or powerful. In my way, I also want to be effective. (But, I suppose, only in my way.)
In different ways, it can be said that all of us lead double lives. Whether it be between our public and private life, between work and home, between how we are with our friends and how we are with our family, etc. Some might say that in order to be authentic, in order to be true to oneself, you must be consistent, you must behave the same way all the time. (Would this be the 'strong, effective and powerful' way to live?) Of course, I believe the opposite: that in order to stay sane we need different habits, different personalities within our self, each personality able to get along with the rest. One behaves one way with a lover and a completely different way when being interrogated by the Gestapo. (You tell the truth to a lover and lie to the Gestapo. At least that’s how I would do it.) If one of your jobs is making art, having another job for money might be a way of saying that you don’t want money to corrupt your art. Or maybe not. You do not always have a choice in such matters. And I have never believed that art is particularly pure. However, living in only one room feels a bit claustrophobic. If possible, it’s always nice to have a second room where you can go.
.
I met Tori Kudo for the first time on January 25, 2012. It’s not so long ago really. He suggested we begin our collaboration by doing pottery together. Though I came to Matsuyama because I was a great fan of his music, and I know absolutely nothing about pottery, I could not think of any reason we should not begin by throwing clay. As the clay spun in front of us, I began to think of Tori’s practice as a sort of double life: on one side is music, on the other pottery. (Tori told me that he tells musicians he is a potter, while he tells potters he is a musician.) In a similar way, I also lead a double life – I make performances and write novels – and when asked how these two practices relate to one another I am never quite sure what to say. I think there is something extremely beautiful in leading this sort of double existence. When one starts to feel trapped in one part, you can always escape to the other. (So much of my life is about not wanting to feel trapped.)
Tori Kudo’s band Maher Shalal Hash Baz is a rotating group of amateur musicians. (I believe there are over fifty so far.) I started to wonder what the difference was between an amateur musician and a professional. One difference might be that a professional does work for money, while an amateur does something he or she loves whether there is money involved or not. The amateur musician might also be said to lead a kind of double life: a job during the day, music during his or her free time. At the time of writing this I have not yet met the members of Maher Shalal Hash Baz, so (during our first try-out in Yokohama on February 16th) the audience and I will meet them, more or less, at the same time. I am extremely curious to see what will happen, what they think about all of these questions, how we might turn these questions into a performance together.
I am a professional in the sense that I make my living entirely from my artistic practice. At the same time, I always approach making art with a certain amateur spirit. Often this is only a question of intuition and instinct. When I am making, I know what I'm doing and don't know what I'm doing at the same time. I see myself on the side of 'not knowing', that's my team, but also fear this 'not knowing' is only a cover for knowing all too well. I've been doing this for a long time now. I'm full of tricks and the trick is most often on me. I know from experience that my most honest work is not necessarily my most popular. People say it looks amateur. Yes, I want to explain, why can't you see that this is also beautiful. And then we are in a battle of values. I value that which is fragile and unsure, while perhaps they value something more strong, effective or powerful. In my way, I also want to be effective. (But, I suppose, only in my way.)
In different ways, it can be said that all of us lead double lives. Whether it be between our public and private life, between work and home, between how we are with our friends and how we are with our family, etc. Some might say that in order to be authentic, in order to be true to oneself, you must be consistent, you must behave the same way all the time. (Would this be the 'strong, effective and powerful' way to live?) Of course, I believe the opposite: that in order to stay sane we need different habits, different personalities within our self, each personality able to get along with the rest. One behaves one way with a lover and a completely different way when being interrogated by the Gestapo. (You tell the truth to a lover and lie to the Gestapo. At least that’s how I would do it.) If one of your jobs is making art, having another job for money might be a way of saying that you don’t want money to corrupt your art. Or maybe not. You do not always have a choice in such matters. And I have never believed that art is particularly pure. However, living in only one room feels a bit claustrophobic. If possible, it’s always nice to have a second room where you can go.
.
February 2, 2012
A certain spirit of amateurism
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I've been thinking about the difference between an amateur and an professional. I know I prefer the amateur, that, at the very least, I prefer a certain spirit of amateurism. One very obvious difference concerns money. A professional does work for money. An amateur will keep doing what he or she loves whether or not there is money to do it or not. In our culture, if you are not independently wealthy, and you are doing something mainly because you want to, without giving too much thought to how you might profit from it, it is likely you will need to make money doing something else. Therefore, the amateur leads a kind of double life: one job for money, the other job for love.
Some artists are able to make enough money from their work to live but most are not. Therefore, every artist, if only when they are young and starting out, knows something about amateurism. However, this is almost like a dirty secret, since, as an artist, if you want to make money at it in the future, you must claim to be as professional as possible. Your aura of professionalism mingles with your aura of talent towards the goal of getting paid, whether it be through government funding or private sources. In reality, if necessary, you might be willing to keep making art for free, but if you put that in your grant proposal it will not be very successful. A professional is someone who claims to be good enough at what they do that they deserve to be paid for it.
The double life of the amateur - one part reserved for what they want to do, the other for what they can get paid for - can give a certain freedom to their creative output. In this sense Kafka was an amateur, to give just one example. But it can also generate bitterness. Why do the cynical professionals get all the attention when the work I make is so much more honest and genuine? To be amateur is a choice that very rarely feels like a true choice. Most often it feels like a lack of opportunity.
I am improvising here. These are realities as I experience them in my head. They may or may not be realities experienced by other people. But in much of the work that is most dear to me, there is a certain spirit of amateurism, of leaving the edges rough, of not wanting things to be too polished, of focusing on what is essential and letting the rest take care of itself. In a sense, this spirit of amateurism also leads to a double life. There is the part that is essential, the heart of the matter, the thing that drives you to keep making work even when the world says there's no point, and then there is the form, the technical aspects, the surface. For this amateur spirit I am dreaming of there is no question which side of the equation is most important. If what is essential is present, maybe the rest can gradually take care of itself.
Of course, putting things this way is a bit ridiculous: there is no meaning without form, no communication without clarity. But what I'm trying to say is that the amateur spirit desires to focus on what it finds most essential, whatever that may be. Often it is a question of intuition and instinct. When I am making, I know what I'm doing and don't know what I'm doing at the same time. I see myself on the side of 'not knowing', that's my team, but also fear this 'not knowing' is only a cover for knowing all too well. I've been doing this for a long time now. I'm full of tricks and the trick is most often on me. I know from experience that my most honest work is not necessarily my most popular. People often say it looks amateur. Yes, I want to explain, why can't you see that this is also beautiful. And then we are in a battle of values. I value that which is fragile and unsure, while perhaps they value something more strong, effective or powerful. In my way, I also want to be effective. (But, I suppose, only in my way.) I admire people who are stubborn. I also admire people who are open. How to be both at the exact same time?
.
I've been thinking about the difference between an amateur and an professional. I know I prefer the amateur, that, at the very least, I prefer a certain spirit of amateurism. One very obvious difference concerns money. A professional does work for money. An amateur will keep doing what he or she loves whether or not there is money to do it or not. In our culture, if you are not independently wealthy, and you are doing something mainly because you want to, without giving too much thought to how you might profit from it, it is likely you will need to make money doing something else. Therefore, the amateur leads a kind of double life: one job for money, the other job for love.
Some artists are able to make enough money from their work to live but most are not. Therefore, every artist, if only when they are young and starting out, knows something about amateurism. However, this is almost like a dirty secret, since, as an artist, if you want to make money at it in the future, you must claim to be as professional as possible. Your aura of professionalism mingles with your aura of talent towards the goal of getting paid, whether it be through government funding or private sources. In reality, if necessary, you might be willing to keep making art for free, but if you put that in your grant proposal it will not be very successful. A professional is someone who claims to be good enough at what they do that they deserve to be paid for it.
The double life of the amateur - one part reserved for what they want to do, the other for what they can get paid for - can give a certain freedom to their creative output. In this sense Kafka was an amateur, to give just one example. But it can also generate bitterness. Why do the cynical professionals get all the attention when the work I make is so much more honest and genuine? To be amateur is a choice that very rarely feels like a true choice. Most often it feels like a lack of opportunity.
I am improvising here. These are realities as I experience them in my head. They may or may not be realities experienced by other people. But in much of the work that is most dear to me, there is a certain spirit of amateurism, of leaving the edges rough, of not wanting things to be too polished, of focusing on what is essential and letting the rest take care of itself. In a sense, this spirit of amateurism also leads to a double life. There is the part that is essential, the heart of the matter, the thing that drives you to keep making work even when the world says there's no point, and then there is the form, the technical aspects, the surface. For this amateur spirit I am dreaming of there is no question which side of the equation is most important. If what is essential is present, maybe the rest can gradually take care of itself.
Of course, putting things this way is a bit ridiculous: there is no meaning without form, no communication without clarity. But what I'm trying to say is that the amateur spirit desires to focus on what it finds most essential, whatever that may be. Often it is a question of intuition and instinct. When I am making, I know what I'm doing and don't know what I'm doing at the same time. I see myself on the side of 'not knowing', that's my team, but also fear this 'not knowing' is only a cover for knowing all too well. I've been doing this for a long time now. I'm full of tricks and the trick is most often on me. I know from experience that my most honest work is not necessarily my most popular. People often say it looks amateur. Yes, I want to explain, why can't you see that this is also beautiful. And then we are in a battle of values. I value that which is fragile and unsure, while perhaps they value something more strong, effective or powerful. In my way, I also want to be effective. (But, I suppose, only in my way.) I admire people who are stubborn. I also admire people who are open. How to be both at the exact same time?
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139 Japanese YouTube videos I've listened to while in Japan (with commentary)
I am in Japan. I am here in residency at The Museum of Art, Kochi. During the day I meet with Tori Kudo (from Maher Shalal Hash Baz.) We are at the very beginning of our project together. Some evenings we go out. On the evenings I stay home I spend my time listening to Japanese music on YouTube. I think there is something a bit shameful about this. I should be outside seeing things, not staring at my computer as usual. But there is only so much time I can spend wandering around Matsuyama, and it is almost impossible to communicate with anyone here. (So far I have managed to learn no Japanese.)
Today we drove up into the mountains. I found the view spectacular. Half way up there was a small museum with Japanese oil paintings from the turn of the century (as well as older, more traditional works.) I was particularly struck by some very large, shadowy ink drawings of pine trees from the eighties (or of the artists memories of pine trees that no longer exist, that were killed off by a tree disease, as was explained to me.) Now I'm back at the computer and soon I'll be fast asleep
Most of this Japanese YouTube music I know almost nothing about. It's exciting to listen to music again that I know nothing about. Music that, when I google it, I get only Japanese explanations, utterly garbled by google translate so I am back where I started. I already knew
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