Taiwanese sculptor rehouses gods

(This post discusses an article on CNA, link here.)

Photo: AFP/Sam Yeh via CNA

Gods and myths are as vulnerable to the ravages of societal change as we are. Karl Marx famously wrote of life under capitalism: “All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned”. Where sacred truths once explained the nature of the world, the foundations of those truths are shaken by the development of capital. Once an essential part of the life-world, the change in production and social structure removes the impetus for religion. As a result, it would seem that even deities are relegated to the status of services.

              The Taiwanese sculptor Lin Hsin-lai houses an immense collection of Taiwanese deity figures. These are the objects of worship for believers who seek a variety of protections and blessings in their lives. However, these figures are increasingly likely to be discarded or destroyed as followers lose faith or even blame the deities for failing to protect them. A certain ideology is clearly mapped onto the cartography of religious meaning the figures once held. Where they were once deities, they are now service providers. Failing their task at protecting their owners results in dismissal. Lin holds that it is possible to maintain these ways in the modern day. He repairs and rehouses the figures to the best of his abilities.

It is difficult not to feel a connection between his diligent efforts to uphold these figures as deities and resistance against the assimilating influence of capitalism more generally. Is it possible to preserve this culture in the face of the “creative destruction” of capital? It is difficult to say where the future of these deities lie.

Photo: AFP/Sam Yeh via CNA

But what remains when these are lost? We can see across the world that capitalism generally does not replace religion so much as it subsumes it. The religious instinct becomes another driver of mass consumption, or alternatively a way to assuage the guilt associated with engaging in mass consumption. No such incorporation appears to be taking place with these figures. While they are collected, they are certainly not “collectibles”. It does not even appear that their value as cultural artefacts is considered, as the article about Lin suggests they are simply being given away at no cost.

Perhaps this partial extinction is an intermediate step in the development of deity worship. It is possible that the space these deities inhabit survives in some respect in their adherents, and that the loss of interest in deities is temporary.

For the time being, however, it is a bleak that even gods must contend with the gig economy.

#I am not a virus

When the COVID-19 pandemic broke out in February, it seemed that nobody in the western hemisphere really took it seriously. Where the Chinese government responded relatively quickly with lockdown measures, and was in fact lambasted for its “authoritarian” measures, European countries and the United States did very little to halt the progress of the virus. One might think the East and South East Asian states learned a lot from SARS, while the rest of the world simply took it to mean that nothing would happen to them. Regardless, the peak came quickly in the countries that had been affected by SARS and infections rapidly declined. Where China had had the highest number of infections and deaths, it was very quickly overtaken by the United States, Italy, the United Kingdom, Spain, France and so on.

              Whenever any kind of mass casualty event occurs, the only meaning available to people tends to be blame. Who was to blame for this outbreak? It was impossible for many people in these countries to grapple with the fact that their governments and health authorities had been completely unable to handle the pandemic. Such an event had been predicted for years, and had been preceded by the avian flu and swine flu outbreaks leading up to the 2010s. The only difference between those pandemics and this one was how contagious and how deadly the virus has proven to be. How, then, could people reconcile the fact that they had been caught off guard with the actual situation?

Decades of “yellow peril” anti-Chinese propaganda proved to be more than enough motivation in the West. This is one of the most naked attempts to justify massive systemic inadequacy through a campaign of racism against East Asians. But it exists at multiple levels. Not only did the media play a major part in promoting this racism, the situation seemed to distil and manifest already-existing racism that had otherwise remained barely concealed in Europe and the United States.

The identification of the virus with China, and thus Asians more broadly, has been a conscious effort across many levels. So much so that Asians around the world have suffered racist attacks and harassment due to the pandemic. In response, a protest aligned with a hashtag, #iamnotavirus, has followed. The goal of this protest is to sever the link mass culture and media has worked to establish between the coronavirus and Asians.

Lisa Wool-Rim Sjöblom (2020)

One person working with this subject directly is Lisa Wool-Rim Sjöblom, a Korean-Swedish artist. Her drawings feature sweetly drawn yet unflinchingly journalistic descriptions of the types of attacks and harassment that have occurred. Among other things, she depicts a man in Texas convicted of attempting to stab an Asian family to death. On a smaller scale, she also depicts a white woman saying that she doesn’t “want to come across as racist” but that the Asian woman next to her should get off the tram.

These two points hint at the perimeters of the issue, while at the same time suggesting a far more deeply seated resentment of the Asian “Other” than can be accounted for simply by the hysteria surrounding the pandemic. Instead, it shows how racism can manifest in smaller, less identifiable places. In an interview, Sjöblom describes the strange looks, the distancing and the exclusion that is surely familiar to anyone who is not white in a majority-white context.

Everyone should be horrified at how easily race is weaponized in a time of crisis. That anyone is not horrified is itself horrifying. This will happen again and again as long as racism is tacitly accepted in the global North. And as always occurs when a scapegoat is found, the true culprit escapes. Thus far, no one in the Western world has faced consequences for the hundreds of thousands who have died from the immensely mishandled crisis. There are even talks of sacrificing hundreds of thousands more to appease the blood god of the economy. In such a situation, it is absolutely maddening to hear people speak of the Chinese as mindless. If this isn’t mindless, what is?

The Digital Subject: Moon Relay/Anthony Barratt & Espen Friberg – _…-``-…_

(This post discusses an event, link here.)

When neuroscientists- and, it must be said, pseudoscientists- Stanley Koren and Michael Persinger developed a helmet (the “God helmet”) that would expose the temporal lobe to weak magnetic fields, they purported that test subjects encountered what they termed a “sensed presence”. What they claimed their subjects experienced depended on their suggestibility and background, but ranged from ghosts, to demons, to god himself. Such magnetic influence, they believed, manifested a detached self, a magnetic Other.

              While the experiment itself was absolutely hokum, it serves as a productive analogy to the role of the virtual, digital in contemporary life. The digital is in every way mediated by our neurology and perception, yet it is unmistakably outside our self-identity. Unlike other social influences, it is encountered at an individual level, removed from all others and somehow also removed from ourselves. It thus exists in our every conscious moment, acting on us and manipulating us in ways we cannot account for. In this sense, we are the object of a digital subject. We receive and it transmits.

              _…-``-…_ is a typographically intensive audiovisual concert from musical artists Moon Relay and visual artists Anthony Barratt and Espen Friberg. The music, a combination of post-krautrock repetition, sound collage and sampling, as well as softer, post-rock-tinged pieces, is all performed from within a fortress of CRT monitors and televisions. From the screens, a barrage of patterns and color fields flicker and strobe in harmony with the music.

              The music follows in a recent tradition of bands exploring the intersection of noisy krautrock and dance music. Where krautrock is traditionally a somewhat modernist reaction to industrialization and mechanization, this style of music transfers this mechanical quality to the libidinal impulses of dance music. This effectively dramatizes the instrumentalization of the libido into a mechanism of economy. Meanwhile, sweeping samples and effects intrude on the almost-meditative state the repetition induces, furthering a sense of alienation from oneself and one’s impulses. This effect is enhanced by the television sets, as the patterns and lights act in unison upon the viewer. The word “television” itself means something along the lines of “remote view”, but in this instance, the viewer is the one remotely viewed, evaluated and manipulated by the detached, digital self. The presence of the television screens as an external agent is in this regard similar to Canadian video artist Tasman Richardson’s work Firing Squad, which similarly positions an aggressive deluge of CRT noise cut into rhythmic patterns.

              In this sense, it is ironic that despite the fraudulent nature of the “God helmet”, the electromagnetic influence of screens and data can be felt at the deepest levels of our identity. It comes from us, is never entirely us, and its influence is nonetheless inescapable.

Gilbert & George

(This post discusses an exhibition, link here.)

Photo: Astrup Fearnley Museet

In the 1970s, the British punk scene, an aesthetic manufactured in smoky boardrooms, exploded to the foreground of public consciousness as a psychological field representing authenticity and non-conformity. 

              More or less simultaneously, the artist duo Gilbert & George formed and began producing works depicting themselves (always in the same suits), as well as a number of works focusing on the bodily taboos (excretions, sex organs), seeking to shock and draw viewers’ attention to their own biases and prejudices.

              Images focused on the body have an apparent intention to demystify the body and bodily functions, though this is done in an aesthetic that is clearly centered around the apparent shock value of the depictions. It is unavoidable that to modern sensibilities, these images are thoroughly defanged and declawed. Few people, particularly among those who have any interest in attending a contemporary art exhibition, are shocked to see a photograph of a penis. These motifs are now ever-prevailing to the point of embarrassment.

Instead, what one suspects is that viewers may react to the trappings surrounding the imagery, bold outlines recalling (literally, as these works range from the 1970s to the present day) early collage and mixed media. These outlines direct the viewer’s attention to their center as they suggest that the images contained within them ought to be shocking. The irony then is that the connection between shock and the bodily imagery exists entirely within the work. The artists are reacting with shock, not the viewer. It makes sense that the artists themselves describe themselves as politically conservative. Who else would have the impulse to draw this connection?

Of course, this is an ahistorical reading. These works were not made in the modern art and media landscape and a more generous approach would be to assume that they worked exactly as intended in the years they were produced.

Some more modern glimmers can be found in the exhibition. One work consists of headlines from UK newspapers collected through word searches for terms such as “stabbed” or “murder”.  This is immediately more contemporary, examining the subconscious of the media industry. With the same terms recurring over and over in succession, the viewer begins to experience a sense of skepticism to the headlines. Rather than being objective descriptions of real events, the headlines appear to simply be manifestations of a hysterical imagination.

About EGG.

“EGG is a whoip-style!”

“EGG is a whoip-style!”

“EGG is a whoip-style!”

“EGG is a whoip-style!”

“What’s that?!”

“A leaf…”

”… is a whoip-style!”

Every time you "splonch"

Food for thought: Every time you “splonch”, someone gets shot with a harpoon gun.

Every time you “taf”, three people get gout.

Every time you neither “splonch” nor “taf”, there is a volcanic eruption in the past, destroying the island of Krakatoa, because of you.

Think about it. This changes everything. You can change everything. Start to “splonch” and “taf” to save the island of Krakatoa and cause some deaths and gouts, because in the long run, it's worth it?

BIG chicken in the Chamber of Reflection

At the heart of the celebrated Quartz Monastery is the Chamber of Reflection, a site of impeccable dimensions and shape. Within it are eight equal walls which are said to reflect a visitor's troubled spirit back into the body, keeping one's thoughts from escaping. That said, I saw a BIG chicken in there. It's really big. I don't know how it got in. We locked the door last night, and there aren't any chickens here usually. But it's BIG. Whenever it opened its beak, it spoke with a different voice, sounding not unlike a radio broadcast each time. I don't know if it understands what it's saying or what we're saying to it. Just looks like a chicken. Normal chicken face, but BIG.

despite his achievements

the earl of sandwich

is mostly known for his bizarre and unexplained death at the hands of atlantean fish men

A correction

 

Correction: The mayor of PIG TOWN has not been

proven to exist. The mayor of PIG TOWN is highly speculative.

To the best of our knowledge, the mayor of PIG TOWN is a dream, a table, a story we made up.

The mayor of PIG TOWN has never been seen, at least not by anyone we know

Probably, there is no mayor of PIG TOWN.

An update pertaining to your request

Although we are sympathetic to your assertion that our HSE policies are "unconventional" and in some way "hazardous", we are afraid we cannot comply with your request to work alone. We see our team as a family, and although your complaints have been heard and are valid, we would ask you to refrain from spreading rumors and hearsay. However, we are able to offer you a single compromise. You see, your co-worker has been, if you'll pardon the expression, "splanched". As such, we will allow you to change your seating if you can convince him that he is not, in fact, who he claims to be. He says he is the original author of the Spanish constitution. This is, of course, impossible. All you need to do is demand he accepts the charge that he has, in fact, and on a permanent basis, owing in no small part to this peculiar behavior, and without a doubt, been "splanched". Do not hurt anyone if you do not have to.

friends and associates: an important notice

I stand here before you

a changed series of interconnected telepathies. Ladies and gentlemen, to whom it may concern: it is time to talk about the ills of our time. Yes, my friends, it is the thing that concerns us all, whoever we may be. This one over here knows what we are talking about! It is true that this is an issue that plagues many people of ages between 8 and 80. Even those of us without ears, or who no longer have ears have heard of this and are experiencing it at present. Don't tell me you don't know about the drama! We're all talking about it! Here in the seaweed pits we live for drama. It is warm and we live for drama. There can be no doubt that this is true. I insist that it is true.

We are of course speaking of the cursed soapstone idol, and the terrors it has wrought on our humble pastoral society. Firstly, the cows have ceased to moo as they ought to, instead favoring a tonality more reminiscent of the great apes. Meanwhile, we are suffering a drought even as this horrid monsoon enters its fifteenth interminable month, as our crops are drenched in pepsi.

Wherever we now go, whether it is to the old windmill (no longer old), to the pond (previously a rock) or Farmer Jeff (who is enraged), we are beset by desserts in their true ghoul form. Chocolate, strawberry, pistachio, the list goes on. Bob Dylan once wrote "the timmsss they are a changelingggggg" (he is said to have accidentally had a cursed tablet implanted in his cornea in 1976. Encountering cholera for the first time in his life in a distant yet accessible land, he was immobilized for two weeks. When he was strong enough to stand, he dragged his body to the nearest bus station and handed them, the twin bus drivers, a cursed tablet (which he had received two weeks prior, during a routine dig in an ancient ruin in his homeland of Austria-Hungary. Two men were cut down in the primes of their lives by shock when they beheld a crude charcoal drawing of a skeleton) and said "plug this in my peepers, you rat fink, we're goin' to the land of the Aztecs!") but it seems here, in this day and age it is the Curse that is changing?

We call for our goats but are heard by our corn. All of my good friend Farmer Jeff's teeth have fallen out, and he suffers terrible bouts of rage directed at the sun, that great tortilla in the sky.

Aphorisms

#1 BIG EGG

#2 BIGG EGG FOR SALE

#3 i wwant to sell BIG EGG

#4 NO no SCAM just EGG

#5 GUARANTEED results GUARANTEED satisfaction GUARANTEED egg

#6 ive CHANGED MY MIND

#7 egg is NOT FOR SALE

#8 PHILISTINE this is the QUALITY EGG

#9 BIG EGG. no "time wasters" no "scammers" no "trickster's apprentices".

the (moth) man of the future

We cannot afford to let time walk us by.

The time is now. Are you investing in train sciences? 

Wrong. You're not investing in train sciences. You're interested in one thing: mankind's oldest and first invention: The Light Bulb. That better have got your intention or frankly, my friend, you are of the past and I am of the future. Do you know who I am? I'm the one who's going to pass you a pizza pie of progress. Slang that on your stone age oven. Look at this. Do you see this? No, it's not a phone. What is this, 1998? 2011? 1905? The 1920s? Is this the 1920s? Does this look like the 1920s to you? Do you think Emperor Taisho is sitting in Tokyo right now, losing his marbles? Is that what you think is the case? Do you think it's the roaring twenties? The dawn of Jazz and the goddamned Charleston? Is that seriously what you think? Wrong. I mean right, it's not. This is an eerily glowing rectangle. Smells nice, doesn't it? That's the smell of phosphorous, two unnamed elements and a fern and only a little urine. To you, and your forward-leaning snout, it's the smell of success. Enjoy it. Endorse it. Make it part of your life. Feel the shine it casts on your skin. It really brings out the whites of your eyes, doesn't it? I think so. Look at those people over there. They think so too, they're just too shy to say anything. Don't talk to them. They won't get it. They're not of the future like we are. Look at the rectangle. Take in that seething glow. So clear yet so intangible. Pretty eerie, right?

Please be advised

Please be advised that members of wards 3 through 6 have been excluded from co-mourning due to unacceptable behavior. Be warned that cormorant sightings have been made across the entire habitation floor, and that cormorant presence is likely. Kindly note that cormorants are more commonly felt than seen, and that they leave behind a faint scent of oatmeal. Please observe all standard operating procedures and do not cheer for any sporting team at the upcoming events. Do consider whether your actions are a bother to yourself or others, and try to avoid consuming any cooked foods for six hours. Thank you for your attention. Let's all get home safely every day.

a preponderance of mothmen

I was very surprised, entering a popular grocery store, to see it filled with the mothmen I have been discussing with you. I swear they are real. Yesterday I was speaking to a human man when his face revealed itself to be coated in dense fur of a midnight blue shade. His eyes became large and red and gangly antennae sprouted from his head near the potatoes. By 9 pm, he and his moth brethren had congregated around the rotisserie chicken. No more than 3 hours later, they were gone, and so was the chicken.