Mix-up of self and other is much more easily achieved in language than in life,
Like eros, puns flout the edges of things.
(AC)
flout the edges of things
Category: language
at His Appointment for
Birth, life, and death—each took place on the hidden side of a leaf. (TM).
Carissa Rodriguez, The Maid. 2018.
Metropolitan Museum. Single-channel video, color, sound, 12 minutes 22 seconds.
Columbia Student Activist Arrested by ICE at His Appointment for Citizenship
Mohsen Mahdawi, a legal permanent resident, has lived in the United States for 10 years and was arrested in Vermont. He has not been charged with a crime.
A place to stand and unfurl all that we see
Through both this developmental and this structural model, psychoanalysis enacts an unprecedented science of mediation: a study of how language and norms inform desires; how desires can only make themselves legible in the distortions of parapraxes, dreams, fumbles, and symptoms; how the self is not self-evident but rather a product of social relations. With its conviction that psychic experience is socially produced, psychoanalytic theory can help explore the ways that circulation impresses upon the psyche: an overemphasis on instantaneous fluid exchange, an overabundance of images, an overweighting of presence, and overvaluing of identity can all preclude or fore-close the functioning of the symbolic. Representation slackens, and an unintegrable real impends. Immersion in the imaginary initiates all kinds of psychic dischord, from fantasies of self-possession and delusions of wholeness, to refusals of the other and proliferating dualities, to paranoiac gusts and polarized fluctuation. Each of these disorders vividly characterizes contemporary media culture and contemporary algorithmic logic.
Anna Kornbluh
041125
Jack Whitten at MoMA.
Otobong Nkanga : Cadence, at MoMA.
Kennedy Yanko at James Cohan
Hahn Rowe at La Mama, in Tides.
Pierre Bellot at 56 Henry
Katharina Grosse at Renaissance Society, via the catalogue.
the kindling vision it brings;
And for a moment I rejoice
That whisper takes the voice
Of a Spirit, speaking to me,
Close, but invisible,
And throws me under a spell
At the kindling vision it brings;
And for a moment I rejoice,
And believe in transcendent things
That would make of this muddy earth
A spot for the splendid birth
Of everlasting lives,
Whereto no night arrives;
And this gaunt gray gallery
A tabernacle of worth
On this drab-aired afternoon,
When you can barely see
Across its hazed lacune
If opposite aught there be
Of fleshed humanity
Wherewith I may commune;
Or if the voice so near
Be a soul’s voice floating here.
In a whispering gallery, Thomas Hardy
Studio Museum in Harlem will open in Fall 2025.
its smallness
It’s just depravity that they try to make glorious, natural. But it ain’t.
The beauty of what we do is its secrecy, its smallness.
– TM
Private archive
The deletions began shortly after Donald Trump took office. C.D.C. web pages on vaccines, H.I.V. prevention, and reproductive health went missing. Findings on bird-flu transmission vanished minutes after they appeared. The Census Bureau’s public repository went offline, then returned without certain directories of geographic information. The Department of Justice expunged the January 6th insurrection from its website, and whitehouse.gov took down an explainer page about the Constitution. On February 7th, Trump sacked the head of the National Archives and Records Administration, the agency that maintains the official texts of the nation’s laws, and whose motto is “the written word endures.”
More than a hundred and ten thousand government pages have gone dark
Julian Lucas, New Yorker
A guerrilla archiving movement has responded.
The basest will be well esteem’d
Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness;
Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport;
Both grace and faults are loved of more and less;
Thou makest faults graces that to thee resort.
As on the finger of a throned queen
The basest jewel will be well esteem’d,
So are those errors that in thee are seen
To truths translated and for true things deem’d.
How many lambs night the stern wolf betray,
If like a lamb he could his looks translate!
How many gazers mightst thou lead away,
If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state!
But do not so; I love thee in such sort
As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness; (Sonnet 96), William Shakespeare