By Vince Carducci, April 25th, 2012 
Quite often when I read mainstream American social science, especially of the “quantoid” variety, I’m reminded as to how much I appreciate literature. While acknowledging the importance of objective data collection and analysis in distinguishing social facts from all-too-fallible everyday perceptions, I also can’t help thinking that deeper, perhaps more significant meaning goes missing in the process. This occurred to me again recently as I perused the latest issue of the zine called Stupor, which for more than 15 years has surveyed the inner terrains of the shell-shocked victims of the class war known as neoliberalism.
Stupor was started in New Orleans in the spring of 1995 by writer and construction-business sole proprietor Steve Hughes and his friend Bill Rohde. It was originally supposed to be a vehicle for authors to publish experimental, confessional material. Not longer after, Hughes relocated to Hamtramck, Michigan, a mostly Eastern European enclave almost completely surrounded by the city of Detroit and once home to the now-demolished Dodge Main Plant, a massive automotive manufacturing facility that competed with Henry Ford’s River Rouge Complex as a paragon of vertically integrated mass production.
With the move, came the conversion of Stupor into Hughes’s solo project. Instead of publishing stories written by others, he began writing all of the stories himself, using anecdotes he collected from people he met or conversations he overheard in working-class bars, construction worksites, and elsewhere he came upon people talking.
As is typical of the genre, the early issues of Stupor are crude cut-and-paste affairs, produced in small quantities using one-color quick-printers and extremely low budgets. (According to the “History” section of the zine’s website, the first four issues of 1000 each were all published for the cost of two cases of beer.) With experience and the capabilities afforded by newer improvements in desktop publishing technology, the production values have been raised somewhat, but not to the level where one would call them slick. More recent issues have been done in collaboration with visual artists who interact with the author to create thematic mashups . . .
Read more: Washed in Dirt: Steve Hughes’s Stupor
By Luis Tsukayama Cisneros, April 23rd, 2012 
An image is a powerful thing that transcends words and rationalization, and elicits thoughts, ideas and connections that we make consciously and unconsciously. In Camera Lucida, Roland Barthes defined two characteristics that give photography this ideas-eliciting nature: “studium” is that which the observer recognizes consciously about a photograph that raises his/her interests (be it because of culture, a personal exposure to what is depicted in a photo or any other sort of conscious connection to it); and “punctum” as that which “wounds” the observer by appealing mainly to the subconscious.
What do we see in this picture? Can we speak of a cultural subconscious in contemporary consumption society? A few months ago, I showed this picture to some of my friends. They almost unanimously told me it looked like a piece of United Colors of Benetton advertisement from the early 1990s. That is, the punctum of the observers. They referred back not only to a fact of materialistic consumption, but rather to a rhetoric of multiculturality as an expression of freedom (in terms of race, ideals and culture) made popular in the aftermath of the apparent end of history and the “victory” of liberal democracy.
Interestingly, though, I took this photograph not in the midst of the confusion of the early 1990s about what exactly constituted “ideology,” but during a general march by students and workers in New York City in support of the Occupy Wall Street movement, in October 2011. To me, in my studium, this is an image of the people that I saw in that march. Not revolutionaries, not hard-core left-wingers, but normal people who have been affected by the economic crisis and were angry at the fact that Wall Street institutions continued to win in spite of the so-called “99%”.
That being said, this image is not only what I intended. I intended to portray a discourse of “normality,” but what most people saw in it was a long-lasting rhetoric of diversity. This makes me wonder about the connections between the rhetoric of civil society (which . . .
Read more: OWS and the Power of a Photo
By Irit Dekel, April 11th, 2012 
Upon boarding the flight back last Wednesday night from NY to Berlin I picked up the Sueddeutsche Zeitung (SZ), finding on its first page a picture of Guenter Grass, holding a pipe. The headline read “Ein Aufschrei” (An outcry): Guenter Grass warns of a war against Iran: “the literature Nobel Prize Laureate’s claims that Germany should not provide Israel with Submarines.”
I did not read the poem, “What Must Be Said” on the flight (being busy with two young children and recurring attempts to sleep), but thought that, from that headline, I would support an outcry against attacking Iran. I like poetry making the first pages of centrist (left-leaning) newspapers, and as for the pipe and the submarines, they are signs of older times, part of performing memory in Germany around Grass who is identified with the pipe, the 68’ers and Germany’s underwater adventures, and its declared commitment to Israel’s security. So be it. But now I have my concerns about the not very good poem and about the controversies surrounding it.
In the taxi ride back home, we heard discussions in all news channels (as the driver browsed from one to the next) about Grass’s anti-Semitism, which perplexed me. We read the poem at home and were underwhelmed. Thomas Steinfeld noted in the SZ on Wednesday night, it is not Grass’s first poem. Actually, the first published one made him join group 47 in 1955, and his poetry has always been full of exaggerations. Exaggerations are part of the poetic form, we are reminded, and Grass went wrong here, as he erred about, for instance, “trying to save the collapsing GDR from the German Federal Republic.”
I would like to focus a bit on the language of the lyrical prose, preserving and highlighting parts of it that have been overlooked, like the discussion of comparable moral standing and silence, and the performance of national memory narrative.
In the German (and Israeli) discussion following Grass’s poem, the focus has been on the attack on Israeli atomic policy, on Israel’s moral superiority in the Middle East and on . . .
Read more: What Can be Said about Guenter Grass’s “What Must be Said”?
By Vince Carducci, March 21st, 2012 
Carducci continues his series of reflections on art in the age of de-industrialization in this post on the work of Scott Hocking. -Jeff
It was recently announced that after more than five decades of abandonment and neglect, the sprawling, decrepit Packard Automotive Plant on the east side of Detroit will be demolished by its ostensible current owner Dominic Cristini. (For news coverage, click here, here, here, and here.) Designed in the early 1900s by industrial architect Albert Kahn, the 40-acre, 3.5 million square foot complex was once the headquarters and main production site for the Packard Motor Car Company, one of the premier American luxury automobile brands of the 20th century. The plant was the first large-scale reinforced concrete industrial construction project in the world and at its opening in 1907 was considered to be the most advanced facility of its kind anywhere. The plant’s opening preceded by three years Henry Ford’s legendary Highland Park Plant (also designed by Kahn and immortalized by Louis-Ferdinand Celine in Journey to the End of the Night — for $5 a Day) and the moving assembly line by six years.
Since its closing in 1958, the complex has progressively fallen into decay with several sections in collapse as a result of exposure to the elements and a succession of fires; although, most of the buildings remain structurally sound due to their reinforced concrete construction. Much of the wiring and other building materials have been stripped by scavengers over the years. In recent times, the plant has also served as an enclave for so-called urban explorers, graffiti artists, and purveyors of the photographic genre known as “ruin porn.” Without question, the most significant work done in this environment is that of Detroit artist Scott Hocking.
Born in Detroit in 1975, Hocking has been surveying the postindustrial landscape of Detroit for more than a decade. His project . . .
Read more: Scott Hocking’s Garden of the Gods
By Malgorzata Bakalarz, February 27th, 2012 
Last night at the Academy Awards, the Iranian film, “A Separation,” won the best foreign film prize. The Polish film, “In Darkness,” did not win, even though it is an important film about the Holocaust. I imagine Malgorzata Bakalarz, a Polish art historian studying sociology in New York, is pleased. -Jeff
I remember the joke among my friends – photographers and filmmakers – repeated each time when someone would read a film review in a newspaper. “Why are all the film critics unemployed in Poland? – Because sociologists and historians write better film reviews. – And why’s that? – Because it’s all about important movies, not the good ones.”
Indeed, “important” is not a formal category for judging a film, and it should not be a category to discuss “In Darkness” by Agnieszka Holland, either. Holland depicts a true story about Leopold Socha, Polish sewage worker, who saved a group of Jews, hiding them in sewage in Lviv (now in Ukraine). And yet many reviewers were terrorized by the importance of the content and do not really address the form. Is it really so that to watch films touching on important issues one needs to become “a patriot,” “a pacifist,” or “anti-Fascist” instead of remaining simply “a viewer”? And why does a critique of a film on Holocaust seem to be anti-Semitic? The terror of “important movies” is truly a noteworthy phenomenon.
“In Darkness” is not a masterpiece, no matter how important its subject. In it, Holland, the distinguished Polish director, is guilty of the sin of excess (or indecisiveness): among many different angles of the story and many ways of telling it – she has chosen everything. The effect is a lot of unnecessary scenes that make the large picture (sic!) blurry. Should we fully recognize the main protagonist’s transformation, from a crook that wants to get rich on others’ tragedy into a righteous gentile? Or, rather, should we meditate on complex dynamics between the group of Jews – fled from the ghetto to be forced to select among themselves the ones who would die, the “selected” fleeing . . .
Read more: The Terror of Important Films: “In Darkness” (Spoiler Alert)
By Vince Carducci, February 6th, 2012 
Over the last year and a half, I have looked at the field of cultural production in Detroit through several lenses. As I’ve reflected on things a little more, I have come to see that these lenses are interconnected. What’s more, they point to a way in which certain art projects in Detroit are perhaps opening up an avenue for thinking about how we might actually go about making that other world the new social movements slogans tell us is possible.
I first have looked at Detroit from the perspective of what I call the art of the commons. This lens reveals a significant (though certainly not exclusive) tendency within contemporary Detroit art that has emerged in those spaces where the distinctions between public and private seems to have dissipated as part of the process of demassification of the city’s core, which has taken place over the last four decades. (As Marx declared, “All that is solid melts into air.”) The resulting abandonment of commercial and residential property, its subsequent neglect, and its reclamation in many quarters by nature has figuratively and in not a few cases quite literally opened up a new field of cultural production. Referring back to the medieval commons (land left open for grazing, farming, and other uses by anyone without requiring individual ownership — the term “commoner,” i.e., one without hereditary title, comes from it), the art of commons trespasses the boundaries of conventional property relations of modern capitalism.
The idea that private property is essentially an ideological construction, something legitimated by hegemonic authority underlies the psychogeographic investigations of the urban landscape undertaken by the Situationist International. This is my second filter. In particular, the SI concepts of derive (drift), detournement (diversion, derailment), the gift economy, and potlatch provide useful ideal types for understanding how cultural producers in Detroit negotiate the city’s postindustrial condition. (See the post “Beneath the Pavement, the Beach!” for my analysis of Detroit art . . .
Read more: Envisioning Real Utopias in Detroit
By Nancy Weiss Hanrahan, January 19th, 2012 
In most fields of human endeavor, increasing computerization has been accompanied by some kind of critical evaluation of the possibilities that technology affords and those that it forecloses, of the potential good or harm that attends technological mediation. But in music, arguably the field of human experience most profoundly transformed by the new digital technologies, this type of examination has yet to take place. Rather, it seems that if the technology provides a specific capability, it is inherently good, or it must become the new standard. I am not suggesting that there is nothing worthwhile in the new musical situation – it would be difficult, having worked in the music business for many years, to mourn a system that limited the range of music possibilities that reached the market or that routinely denied creative artists the financial rewards of their work. But to claim that new developments are inherently democratic or that they constitute a form of freedom obscures, rather than illuminates, the underlying social conditions and aesthetic ramifications. Music’s material integration with the new technology has been largely accomplished. The question is whether or not technological mastery itself is becoming the dominant criterion of aesthetic value.
Corynne McSherry, intellectual property director of the Electronic Frontier Foundation, recently appeared on CounterSpin (1/6/12) to talk about SOPA (the Stop Online Piracy Act). In the course of her remarks, she made a concise statement of the prevailing common sense:
“… what’s also troubling is this claim that you hear over and over, that in our brave new world, artists can no longer survive. And that’s empirically untrue. In fact what we are seeing is that more people are more able to get their creative expression out to a broader public than ever before. And the artists that are taking advantage of new technologies are doing just fine. The folks that aren’t doing as well are the old media companies that are committed to an old business model…. that’s organized around finding the next Lady Gaga and the next Britney Spears. But if you are in fact an artist or if you’re . . .
Read more: Music, or the Triumph of Technics?
By Jeffrey C. Goldfarb, December 30th, 2011 
I am often accused of being an optimist. I write “accused” because I take it as a mistaken characterization. I think it suggests that I am naïve and unrealistic. And as it happens, I don’t think I am naïve or unrealistic, and don’t feel particularly optimistic. I actually have a rather dark view of the human prospect, one of the reasons I am more conservative than many of my friends and colleagues. That said, I do know why people think I am an optimist. It is because I understand my intellectual challenge to be to find the silver lining within the clouds, to try to find ways in which it may be possible (even if unlikely) to avoid the worst. Thus, my study of the politics of small things, which started with the proposition that after 9/11 “it hurts to think,” and also thus, my investigation in my new book of the possibility of “reinventing political culture,” showing that political culture is not only an inheritance that constrains possibility, but also one that provides resources for creativity and change.
In Reinventing Political Culture, I make two moves: I reinvent the concept of political culture and I study the practical project of reinventing political culture in different locations: Central Europe, the Middle East and North America. I plan to use the book to structure a deliberately considered debate early in the new year. At this year’s end, I thought I would highlight some past posts which examine the power of culture and the way I understand it pitted against the culture of power, which also exemplify the course we have taken this year at Deliberately Considered and a road we will explore next year.
First, there is the link between small things and the power of culture. In a small corner of Damascus we observed people creating an autonomous world for poetry. Clearly the present revolution there is not the result of such activity, though it did anticipate change. But I think such cultural work makes it more likely that the post authoritarian situation will be . . .
Read more: Hope against Hopelessness for the New Year
By Vince Carducci, December 20th, 2011 
In a recent contribution to the Huffington Post, author and community organizer Yusef Bunchy Shakur and co-author Jenny Lee write: “Detroit is modeling life after capitalism.” One of the ways this is happening is through the work of artists who are helping to envision what that life might look like. These artists are constructing what the French philosopher Jacques Ranciere calls an “aesthetic community.”
The aesthetic community of Detroit is more than simply a collection of artists and other creative types working in the same location. It’s a community of sense, as Ranciere expresses it, which operates on three levels.
The three senses of aesthetic community:
The first level of aesthetic community is a certain combination of sense data — materials, forms, spaces, etc. — that constitute the work. In particular in Detroit, this often consists of using recycled castoff materials, adopting makeshift techniques for fashioning them into artistic expressions, and doing so in locations that have been abandoned or otherwise marked by neglect. The notion of aesthetic community at this level comprises what Ranciere terms a “regime of conjunction,” that is, a bringing together of disparate elements into a meaningful whole.
The second level opens up a tension between this regime of conjunction and what Ranciere terms the “regime of disjunction.” The latter can be understood as the way the work points to that which is absent, specifically in the case of Detroit the sense of community dislocated as a result of the ravages of capitalism, the lack that registers the social, economic, and political deracination whose residue is emphatically apparent in the postindustrial wasteland of Detroit.
This aspect of aesthetic community is not the same as what another French philosopher, Jean-Luc Nancy, terms the “inoperative community,” the longing for the original idea of community that was lost or broken in the transition to modernity, the dialectic of what sociologists term Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft. That’s about Romantic nostalgia, the province essentially of so-called “ruin porn.” Instead, it’s what enables the third level of aesthetic community to come . . .
Read more: Aesthetic Community in Detroit
By Michael Corey, December 14th, 2011 
Kevin Kallaugher, the world famous political cartoonist, KAL, recently spoke at a meeting of the New Canaan Senior Men’s Club. He discussed his career, the creative processes involved in his approach to expression, shared his works, and he highlighted recent developments in editorial and political cartoons, highlighting the hazards of being a political and editorial cartoonist. KAL is known for his innovative work in print, animation and interactive animation. He noted that in two thirds of the world his talk would not be possible. He and his audience could either be harassed or prosecuted by authorities or other groups seeking to suppress speech. KAL is a past president of the Cartoonist Rights Network (CRNI), an organization that is dedicated to supporting cartoonists who are at risk. He is a great storyteller — even people not particularly interested in his work, were very interested in his comments. He didn’t spend a lot of time lamenting about the plight of editorial and political cartoonists, just enough to get me interested in trying to find out about the problem.
Political and editorial cartoonists use satire to identify issues and to try to change beliefs and behaviors. They raise issues, but rarely offer solutions. Reactions to their representations are almost always mixed. While cartoonists only occasionally hear from those who approve of their works, people who object to their images, ideas and sentiments often let cartoonists know what they think in no uncertain terms. Negative reactions range from harsh comments to threats, beatings and worse. Many governments ban satirical political and editorial cartoons. Satire is perceived to be disrespectful, and a threat to power and authority. Some groups view the expressions as blasphemous. Cartoonists and organizations that publish and distribute their works have been threatened even with death threats. Success for cartoonists is illusive, but the dangers to them are all too real. In one sense, political and editorial cartoons are no laughing matter.
According to the CRNI, “Editorial cartoonists are frequently the first individuals to be silenced by extremists, thugs and tyrants.” . . .
Read more: Political and Editorial Cartoons: No Laughing Matter
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