Monday, February 15, 2016

Thoughts on Nature

As we make our way through the films, here are some reminders (from Whitehead, Nature Alive).

205-206 Now as a first approximation the notion of life implies a certain absoluteness of self-enjoyment. This must mean a certain immediate individuality, which is a complex process of appropriating into a unity of existence the many data presented as relevant by the physical processes of nature. Life implies the absolute, individual self-enjoyment arising out of this process
of appropriation.

>>  Immediate individuality: no mediation here (no culture/nature dichotomy)
>> self enjoyment of the immediate individuality - this is not about a human's enjoyment, but a process's capacity to reach its potential

206 I have termed each individual act of immediate self-enjoyment an 'occasion of experience'

>> everything that is experienced enjoys its process of experience. To enjoy is not to bring a moral register - it is to emphasize the open-endedness of potential. This is not mediated by human experience, though to become intelligible to us, it will always be in the register of the more-than human (there is of course experience which remains unintelligible to us).

206 This concept of self-enjoyment does not exhaust that aspect of process here termed 'life'. Process for its intelligibility involves the notion of a creative activity belonging to the very essence of each occasion.

>> life exceeds intelligibility. This is its anarchic share. Creativity can be understood as this anarchic share coinciding with a certain capacity to be registered. (The capacity to be registered is something that art can do.)

207 It is nonsense to conceive of nature as a static fact, even for an instant devoid of duration. There is no nature apart from transition, and there is no transition apart from temporal duration. This is the reason why the notion of an instant of time, conceived as a primary simple fact, is nonsense.

>> time exceeds metric time. 

207-208 We must add yet another character to our description of life. This missing characteristic is 'aim'. By this term 'aim' is meant the exclusion of the boundless wealth of alternative potentiality, and the inclusion of that definite factor of novelty which constitutes the selected way of entertaining those data in that process of unification. The aim is at that complex of feeling which is the enjoyment of those data in that way. 'That way of enjoyment' is selected from the boundless wealth of alternatives. It has been aimed at for actualization in that process.

>> aim is the way the anarchic share co-composes with the process of making-intellibile of existence that troubles life. Aim cuts into potential to make experience discernible (to us, to more-than us).









Sunday, February 14, 2016

a way to knead stones

http://brightside.me/article/this-imaginative-spanish-sculptor-discovered-a-way-to-knead-stones-94805/

Saturday, February 13, 2016

Busong Film Group 1 Recap

Hi all,

Erin asked our group to post the questions we posed in Monday's class on the blog, so here they are. Apologies they have been delayed.

Thank you all for your thoughtful comments and an engaging conversation on a beautiful and moving film.


1) In what ways does the 'more than human' manifest in Busong?

2) Considering the film as a text that warrants as close of a reading as any of the philosophy we have  read thus, we selected a 'quotation' or scene from the film for deep thinking.

This scene occurs roughly 44 minutes into the film, when the father and son attempt to cross the channel after their boat has been confiscated. We asked to know how people understood this scene on its own and in the larger context of the film, with particular attention to its formal dimensions.


Michael, Justin, Abel, Alyssa, Natalie, Jillian

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Garden of Earthly Delights

I'm stuck on plants-and-human relationship. Plants narratives.
~cricri

"By connecting the development of botanical science with global circumnavigation and trans-Atlantic trade, Lin's project addresses the acts of abduction by which human beings as well as natural and intellectual resources were removed from non-Western societies under the pretext of "discovery" and used to augment the wealth and power of European patriarchs."

+

"Plants were used in this way to negotiate power in conditions of extreme powerlessness."


Link to full article + all the images, below:
Candice Lin's Garden of Earthly Delights

Candice Lin's Garden of Earthly Delights



In partnership with 18th Street Arts Center
18th Street Arts Center is an artists' residency program that provokes public dialogue through contemporary art-making.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Erotic Viewing


Our discussion at the end of class about the (homo)erotics in Duraeus Solito's Busong reminded me of a kind of erotic viewing practice as proposed by film theorist Laura Marks. She explains:

What is erotic? The ability to oscillate between near and far is erotic. In sex, what is erotic is the ability to move between control and relinquishing, between being giver and receiver. It’s the ability to have your sense of self, your self-control, taken away and restored—and to do the same for another person. Elaine Scarry writes that torture deprives a person of language and reduces him or her to nothing but a body. Language, she argues, is what makes us subjects; it allows us to take a distance from our bodies. A lover’s promise is to take the beloved to that point where he or she has no distance from the body—and then to let the beloved come back, into possession of language and personhood.
In the sliding relationship between haptic and optical, distant vision gives way to touch, and touch reconceives the object to be seen from a distance. Optical visuality requires distance and a center, the viewer acting like a pinhole camera. In a haptic relationship our self rushes up to the surface to interact with another surface. When this happens there is a concomitant loss of depth—we become amoebalike, lacking a center, changing as the surface to which we cling changes. We cannot help but be changed in the process of interacting. 
(2002, Touch: Sensuous Theory and Multisensory Media, xvi)

Continuing in the vein of considering the erotic as more-than-human, perhaps viewing erotically can help us decentre our humaness as we continue in our weeks of watching film. By embracing the potential erotic effect (/affect?) the films may have on us -- rather than bracketing it during our collective viewings as bourgeois prudism has so swiftly engrained -- this haptic mode of viewing can help us touch the film as more embodied than linguistic.


Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Tentative Tendencies


For the sake of getting a grip on what, where, and how we can begin processing the April event, it would be nice if everyone could begin to share what they are feeling for their final valuation.

Please let us know the medium (dance, paper, painting, video, etc), and the technical/spatial requirements for your work to be presented.

We know this is early, but we would like to begin looking for space(s) during a time when other University year end events will be taking place. Plans can change (and they most likely will), so don't stress about committing to something right now :)

This post can be added to from the Blogger main page.

1. Click on "Affect and the Anthropocene"
2. Click on "Articles" (for English users click on "Posts")
3. Find "Tentative Tendencies"
4. Under the title, you should see "Modifier" (for English users click on "Edit")
5. You will see a draft form of this document. Add your name and possible final project.

Business as usual,











Braden, Becky and Alyssa.



Possible final project:

Chelsea Barnett -- fictocriticism piece (creative writing), could be presented on a panel or as a stand alone reading

Christine cricri Bellerose -- video (best media set-up is TV + DVD player + one object installation) + paper lecture (7-15min) 
Title: "The Ecology of Invisible: Partner-dancing a cartography of rhythms with the extreme cold, wind, snow, ice, and the wet."


Monday, February 8, 2016

'Embrace of the Serpent' Is a Violent, Psychedelic Film About the Colonization of the Amazon


At the beginning of the 20th century, the ethnologist Theodor Koch-Grünberg arrived in the Amazon intending to study its indigenous people. A few dozen years later, the North American biologist Richard Evan Schultes appeared in the jungle to study plants used by the same indigenous population. These two true stories are the point of departure forEmbrace of the Serpent, a film by the 34-year-old Colombian director Ciro Guerra. Using these two scientists as a framework, Guerra fictionalizes the history of a forgotten indigenous community, including how the last member of the tribe embarked on important journeys, first in his youth with Koch-Grünberg and later when much older with Schultes.
The film, which won the biggest prize at Cannes Directors' Fortnight and has left American critics breathless with praise, relays the same magnificent spirit of the jungle as in Werner Herzog's classic Fitzcarraldo, but this time tells its story from the indigenous perspective. It's a film that's constantly on the move through this vast, sacred jungle—a sort of psychedelic road trip by canoe—that deals with the history of colonial oppression, religion, and madness. What makes Guerra's film so moving and unique is how well it captures the immensity of the jungle and the incredible lives of the people who have existed there for centuries.
I spoke with Guerra over Skype as the director was preparing to travel from Colombia to Sundance to present Embrace of the Serpent before it opens at select theaters in the United States.


At first I was worried about being faithful to historical and scientific fact, but later I realized it was more important to let it go and immerse myself in imagination, in dream. I started to lose my western logic and tried to embrace another logic. I wanted the film to feel like an indigenous story, like an Amazonian myth. But Amazonian myth is, for us, almost incomprehensible. Its narrative logic absolutely opposes ours.
Another protagonist, beside the natives and the scientists, is the jungle, like a giant living entity that communicates, that says things. This is a bit like the perspective they have of the jungle. We did a very particular thing. We wrote the jungle like a female character, in part because there wasn't a female character in the film. In the actual history there wasn't a way to put a female character in, but then I started to understand that the jungle has this connotation for them. I started to do something I've always wanted to do: create a character out of the environment. We made it feminine because they see it this way. This is incomprehensible in our narrative tradition but makes all the sense in the world in terms of Amazonian myth.


Is there fantasy in the film? The last member of the tribe, the search for the flower, is this based in reality? It's based on a real thing, but it's modified for various reasons. For me to give the native group a real name, the film would have to be an extensive anthropological investigation. I didn't have the right to do that, but fiction gave me permission. The indigenous people don't feel comfortable if we speak of real plants, real myths, real songs because they're sacred. With fiction, however, you can modify these things. We wanted to arrive at the most profound truth, not the superficial truth of anthropological data.
The part of the film involving the messiah is shocking. What's the story there? When we showed the film to the indigenous communities, we showed it in different places in the Amazon and various people were grateful we'd dealt with the evangelical monks. It's a taboo theme there. Everything that happened one must leave in the past, but this is something they remember and that's been part of their lives.
Later in the diaries there appears the story of a mestizo named Niceto. He arrived at the border of Colombia and Brazil, in Yavarate, at the end of the 19th century, and proclaimed that he was the messiah. He had as many as 2,000 followers and did crazy things, demented things, much more so than what's in the film. His group became unstable and the Brazilian army in the end had to remove them by force. It was out of control. Twenty years later, someone else named Venancio also proclaimed he was the messiah and had hundreds of followers. It all ended in a massive suicide. It's a phenomenon that keeps repeating itself up until today. Even now, on the border of Colombia and Ecuador, there are these Amazonian Israelites. It's a phenomenon related to the fact that the Amazon is a spiritual place. When spirituality is removed by force, it creates a vacuum in which fundamentalism and madness grows.



Director Ciro Guerra
The use of language is particular in this film. The messiah speaks a type of Portuguese, he speaks Spanish, German is heard, there are local dialects. How did you decide to make a multilingual film instead of using just one language? It has to do with the region. In the area where we filmed they speak 17 different indigenous languages. You meet indigenous people who speak 108 indigenous languages without a problem—and they're not languages that resemble one another. You have to recognize that the whole world has come to the Amazon. Everyone comes looking for wealth or resources or expanded consciousness. It's a story that's been told by the Germans, French, Austrians, Americans, besides the Portuguese and Spanish. The Amazon is a tower of Babel. We wanted to reflect this.
The two indigenous protagonists are from the Amazon? Yes, they're from the region. We found them where we were filming. It was difficult to find virgin forest because really it's not easy to find jungle unaffected by agriculture, livestock, commerce, tourism. Once we found it, we started walking through the region, passing through communities and inviting everyone to join us. They were very enthusiastic. Everyone wanted to participate. They were very considerate. They didn't ask what we wanted to do. They only asked that we be transparent and not have hidden motives. The people participated without doubt.
Once we found those indigenous actors, we had a space of three months to teach them about acting and movies. Although many of them hadn't had contact with this—not with theatre, movies, or anything like that—they had a strong oral tradition that's persisted for thousands of years, they've maintained it generation after generation, and this gave them the capacity to listen. They really know how to listen, which is hard to find in an actor.