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robertogreco : margins   14

NOPHOTO. Colectivo de Fotografía Contemporánea
"NOPHOTO es un colectivo de fotografía contemporánea nacido en 2005 con el objetivo de hacer viables proyectos individuales y colectivos NO convencionales.


Se caracteriza por una actitud abierta en contenidos, una tendencia interdisciplinar en las formas, la utilización de múltiples soportes de difusión de los proyectos, como web y proyección digital y la implicación personal en el proceso de gestación y producción de los mismos.


NOPHOTO hace de la negación su punto de partida. NOPHOTO no es una agencia de fotógrafos, sino una ACTITUD. Una manera de ver. Una revolución. Un NO (que nunca está de más).


Esta actitud estética hace que NOPHOTO no renuncie a ninguna forma de creación o exhibición. Los trabajos del colectivo ofrecen una experimentada mirada sobre lo cotidiano que siempre conduce a lo extraordinario. Este proceso es resultado de la reflexión en grupo y de la interacción de procesos de creación alternativos.

“No es que nos guste ir a la contra, es que lo que nos divierte es caminar despacio, torpemente, observar las diferencias menudas entre las cosas, descubrir sus ritmos. Tratar de describir un objeto, dar una vuelta alrededor, acariciar su contorno y cubrir todo el perímetro. Preguntarse de qué está hecho y qué papel cumple en la historia. Obligarse a agotar el tema y no decir nada. Obligarse a mirar con sencillez y no resolver nada. No ilustrar, no definir, no fotografiar. Lo que nos gusta es desfotografiar las cosas y desnombrarlas.”

NOPHOTO ha sido galardonado con el Premio Revelación 2006 del Festival Internacional de Fotografía y Artes Visuales PHotoEspaña."
nophoto  photography  spain  españa  collectives  lcproject  openstudioproject  interdisciplinary  español  slow  differences  difference  betweenness  between  margins  periphery  unschooling  deschooling  opposition  discovery  howwelearn  learning  glvo  liminality 
november 2018 by robertogreco
Ricardo Cavolo - Periferias en El Independiente - YouTube
[See also:
https://www.elconfidencial.com/cultura/2017-01-28/ricardo-cavolo-periferias-libro-ilustracion_1320492/
Este libro, subraya, "es un ejercicio de amor que quiero que sirva de protesta para levantar la voz y hacer ver a la gente que tiene que cambiar la mirada, pero evidentemente es un ejercicio para darles cariño". De esta selección destaca esas periferias humanas con las que arranca el libro como las más personales. Especialmente los gitanos, pero también la comunidad trap —"en Estados Unidos los negros son como los gitanos para lo bueno y para lo malo. Es un colectivo en el que me fijo e inspiro"— o las mujeres soldados kurdas — "una nueva versión de aquellos 300 espartanos que se hicieron valer con coraje y honor por un fin superior"—.

https://www.elnacional.cat/ca/cultura-idees-arts/ricardo-cavolo-periferias_134232_102.html
Ricardo Cavolo publica el seu àlbum Periferias (Lundwerg) que es presenta com un homenatge als "altres", a aquells que per motius geogràfics, físics, d'orientació sexual o pel motiu que sigui se surten de les pautes de la normalitat. Per les seves pàgines hi passen presos, siamesos, albins, gitanos, guerrilleres kurdes... Però no només hi ha individus i col·lectius, també inclou territoris, com les illes Fèroe, o Tristao d'Acunha; i animals poc coneguts, com el tapir, el pangolí o la hiena. O fins i tot afegeix el que anomena "perifèries vegetals", plantes i bolets que tenen formes insospitades, com les molses, els bolets fosforescents o les roses de Jericó (unes petites plantes que es conserven durant anys seques i que reviuen quan se les mulla)... I el llibre es clou amb un homenatge a artistes i literats fora dels circuits habituals, com Lovecraft, William Blake o Sam Doyle. Tot un cant a la diversitat del món, dels seus éssers, dels seus homes i dels seus creadors.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5g9Uoo4k8s
https://guardianadelibros.blogspot.com/2017/01/periferias.html
https://www.amazon.com/Periferias-Gran-libro-ilustrado-extraordinario/dp/8416489696

https://ricardocavolo.com/
https://www.instagram.com/ricardocavolo/
https://twitter.com/RicardoCavolo

https://elpais.com/cultura/2013/04/17/tentaciones/1366194108_667727.html ]

[via:
"“Periferias” tells the stories of people (and places and plants and animals) that sit outside of what’s typically understood as “normal,” living at the periphery. I bought it even though I can’t even read it properly. I love that this exists."
https://www.instagram.com/p/BpfYl5UBIem/ ]
ricardocavolo  periferias  periphery  margins  liminality  liminal  2017  comics  illustration  gypsies  sexuality  outcasts  edges  outsiders  betweenness 
october 2018 by robertogreco
An Xiao Busingye Mina en Instagram: “David Wojnarowicz had a concept for the world we inherit, the “pre-invented world,” which he defines eloquently here. I interpret it as the…”
[image with text:

"Wojnarowicz identified with outsiders of all kinds—both those who resisted and escaped the "pre-invented world," and those ground don by it. He identified with the discarded, the trapped, and the rebellious. In this page from his 1988 journals, he expressed those feelings in an offhand notation:
The only hero I have or can think of is the monkey cosmonaut in the Russian capsule that got excited in space and broke loose from his restraints and began smashing the control board—the flight had to be aborted.

"The world of the stoplight, the no-smoking signs, the rental world, the split-rail fencing shielding hundreds of miles of barren wilderness from the human step… The brought-up world; the owned world. The world of coded sounds: the world of language, the world of lies. The packaged world; the world of speed metallic motion. The Other World where I've always felt like an alien." —David Wojnarowicz, Close to the Knives"]

"David Wojnarowicz had a concept for the world we inherit, the “pre-invented world,” which he defines eloquently here. I interpret it as the consensus narrative, the world that we might call the mainstream or the dominant. We are watching today the steady disintegration of the pre-invented world. The post-Cold War consensus is collapsing, and a new world is coming into being. On the one hand is a violent ethnonationalism and authoritarianism. On the other is a global, communal, inclusive outlook. It is not clear which one will win, but for those of us born on the margins, for those of us who’ve always struggled with the pre-invented world, these are the most dangerous times. But this comes with the recognition that the world before wasn’t made for us, either. The world before was also dangerous.
.
Wojnarowicz died of AIDS in 1992. He wouldn’t live to see the emergence of gay marriage and contemporary queer culture in the US, nor of a massive public health campaign to curb the spread of HIV and AIDS. For the queer community in the US, we have seen improvements. And if we are lucky, what comes next after these dark times might be better. For now, we live in a time of monsters."
anxiaomina  2018  davidwojnarowicz  pre-inventedworld  ethnonationalism  authoritarianism  change  mainstream  unschooling  deschooling  queerculture  othering  otherness  homogeneity  ownership  property  consensus  dominant  margins  marginalization  trapped  resistance  discarded  rebellion  1988  multispecies  monkeys  escape 
october 2018 by robertogreco
Critic and poet Fred Moten is profiled by Jesse McCarthy | Harvard Magazine
"IN 2013, a manifesto entitled The Undercommons: Fugitive Planning & Black Study began making the rounds among the growing pool of nervous graduate students, harried adjuncts, un-tenured professors, and postdocs whirling through the nation’s faculty lounges. The Undercommons was published by the small anarchist press Autonomedia and made freely available for download; in practice, however, it circulated by word of mouth, copies of the PDF forwarded like samizdat literature for those in the know. On the surface, the text is an analysis of alienated academic labor at the contemporary American university. But it’s also more radical than that: it is a manual for free thinking, a defiant call to dissent within educational institutions that betray their liberal credos, filling their coffers even as they prepare students, armed with liberal arts degrees and “critical thinking” skills, to helm a social and economic order in which, “to work…is to be asked, more and more, to do without thinking, to feel without emotion, to move without friction, to adapt without question, to translate without pause, to desire without purpose, to connect without interruption.”

For those with little or no knowledge of black studies, the text’s deployment of terms like “fugitivity” and “undercommons” may seem baffling. To those in the circle, however, this lexicon of continental philosophy, remixed with a poetic and prophetic fire resembling Amiri Baraka’s, bears the signature of one of the most brilliant practitioners of black studies working today: the scholar and poet Fred Moten ’84."



"This past fall, Moten took up a new position in the department of performance studies at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, arriving from Los Angeles and a teaching appointment at the University of California at Riverside. In early September, his office was still a bare room with a single high window looking out over Broadway. He hadn’t had a chance to unpack his library, but already a small stack of books on jazz theory, performance, and quantum mechanics rested in a pile near his desk. It soon became clear, however, that he is the kind of thinker who keeps all his favorite books in his head, anyway. His Paul Laurence Dunbar is always at his fingertips, and he weaves passages from Karl Marx, Immanuel Kant, or Hortense Spillers into his conversation with equal facility.

In someone else this learnedness could come off as intimidating, but in Moten it’s just the opposite. Something about his composure, his relaxed attentiveness, the way he shakes his head with knowing laughter as he pauses over the direction he’s about to take with a question, instantly erases any stuffiness: one can imagine the exact same conversation taking place on the sidelines of a cookout. And then there’s his voice: warm, low, and propelled by a mellow cadence that breaks complex clauses into neat segments, their hushed, conspiratorial air approaching aphorism. At one point, Moten asked about my dissertation, which I confessed, sheepishly, was kind of a mess. His eyes lit up. He leaned back with a wide grin, his hands spreading out in front of him. “You know what a mess is?” He said. “In Arkansas, a mess is a unit of measure. Like of vegetables. Where my people come from folks might say: ‘You want a bushel?’ And you’ll say, ‘Nah, I want a mess.’ You know, like that great James Brown line: ‘Nobody can tell me how to use my mess.’ It’s a good thing to have. A mess is enough for a meal.”"



"One difficulty for outside readers encountering Moten’s work is that he tends to engage more with the avant-garde than with pop. It’s easy to see why the art world has embraced him: his taste gravitates toward the free-jazz end of the spectrum so strongly it’s as if he were on a mission, striving to experience all of creation at once—to play (as the title of a favorite Cecil Taylor album puts it) All the Notes. This spring, Moten is teaching a graduate course based on the works of choreographer Ralph Lemon and artist Glenn Ligon. In recent years he has collaborated with the artist Wu Tsang on installation and video art pieces, where they do things like practice the (slightly nostalgic) art of leaving voicemail messages for each other every day for two weeks without ever connecting, just riffing off snippets from each other’s notes. In another video short directed by Tsang, Moten—wearing a caftan and looking Sun Ra-ish—is filmed in “drag-frame” slow motion dancing to an a cappella rendition of the jazz standard “Girl Talk.”

By way of explanation, Moten recalls his old neighborhood. “I grew up around people who were weird. No one’s blackness was compromised by their weirdness, and by the same token,” he adds, “nobody’s weirdness was compromised by their blackness.” The current buzz (and sometimes backlash) over the cultural ascendancy of so-called black nerds, or “blerds,” allegedly incarnated by celebrities like Donald Glover, Neil deGrasse Tyson, or Issa Rae, leaves him somewhat annoyed. “In my mind I have this image of Sonny Boy Williamson wearing one of those harlequin suits he liked to wear. These dudes were strange, and I always felt that’s just essential to black culture. George Clinton is weird. Anybody that we care about, that we still pay attention to, they were weird.”

Weirdness for Moten can refer to cultural practices, but it also describes the willful idiosyncracy of his own work, which draws freely from tributaries of all kinds. In Black and Blur, the first book of his new three-volume collection, consent not to be a single being (published by Duke University Press), one finds essays on the Congolese painter Tshibumba Kanda-Matulu and C.L.R. James, François Girard’s Thirty Two Short Films About Glenn Gould, a comparison between Trinidadian calypso and Charles Mingus records composed in response to the Little Rock Nine, David Hammon’s art installation Concerto in Black and Blue, Wittgenstein and the science fiction of Samuel Delany, a deconstruction of Theodor Adorno’s writings on music and a reconstruction of Saidiya Hartman’s arguments on violence. Sometimes the collision can happen within a single sentence: “Emily Dickinson and Harriet Jacobs, in their upper rooms, are beautiful,” he writes. “They renovate sequestration.”

Taken together, Moten’s writings feel like a Charlie Parker solo, or a Basquiat painting, in their gleeful yet deadly serious attempt to capture the profusion of ideas in flight. For him this fugitive quality is the point. We are not supposed to be satisfied with clear understanding, but instead motivated to continue improvising and imagining a utopian destination where a black cosmopolitanism—one created from below, rather than imposed from above—brings folks together.

For Moten, this flight of ideas begins in the flight of bodies: in the experience of slavery and the Middle Passage, which plays a crucial role in his thinking. “Who is more cosmopolitan than Equiano?” he asks rhetorically, citing the Igbo sailor and merchant who purchased his own freedom, joined the abolitionist movement in England, and published his famous autobiography in 1789. “People think cosmopolitanism is about having a business-class seat. The hold of the ship, among other things, produces a kind of cosmopolitanism, and it’s not just about contact with Europeans and transatlantic travel. When you put Fulani and Igbo together and they have to learn how to speak to each other, that’s also a language lab. The historical production of blackness is cosmopolitanism.”

What can one learn from the expression of people who refuse to be commodities, but also once were commodities? What does history look like, or the present, or the future, from the point of view of those who refuse the norms produced by systems of violence: who consent not to be a single being? These key concerns course through the entirety of Moten’s dazzling new trilogy, which assembles all his theoretical writings since In the Break. At a time of surging reactionary politics, ill feeling, and bad community, few thinkers seem so unburdened and unbeholden, so confident in their reading of the historical moment. Indeed, when faced with the inevitable question of the state of U.S. politics, Moten remains unfazed. “The thing I can’t stand is the Trump exceptionalism. Remember when Goldwater was embarrassing. And Reagan. And Bush. Trump is nothing new. This is what empire on the decline looks like. When each emperor is worse than the last.”

* * *

A THESIS that has often been attractive to black intellectuals (held dear, for example, by both W.E.B. Du Bois and Ralph Ellison) was that the United States without black people is too terrifying to contemplate; that all the evidence, on balance, suggests that blackness has actually been the single most humanizing—one could even say, slyly, the only “civilizing”—force in America. Moten takes strong exception. “The work of black culture was never to civilize America—it’s about the ongoing production of the alternative. At this point it’s about the preservation of the earth. To the extent that black culture has a historic mission, and I believe that it does—its mission is to uncivilize, to de-civilize, this country. Yes, this brutal structure was built on our backs; but if that was the case, it was so that when we stood up it would crumble.”

Despite these freighted words, Moten isn’t the brooding type. He’s pleased to be back in New York City, where he’ll be able to walk, instead of drive, his kids to school. He’s hopeful about new opportunities for travel, and excited to engage with local artists and poets. His wife, cultural studies scholar Laura Harris, is working on a study of the Brazilian artist Hélio Oiticica, who is currently being “re-discovered” by American artists and critics. “I circulate babylon and translate for the new times,” opens another poem in The Feel Trio, … [more]
fredmoten  2017  2013  highereducation  highered  work  labor  anarchism  race  slavery  blackstudies  dissent  radicalism  via:javierarbona  resistance  blackness  bodies  aesthetics  amiribaraka  dukeellington  adrianpiper  billieholiday  nathanielmackey  poetry  scholarship  academia  rebellion  subversion  karlmarx  marxism  hortensespillers  kant  paullaurencedunbar  attentiveness  messes  messiness  johnashbery  ralphellison  webdubois  everyday  writing  undercommons  margins  liminality  betweenness  alternative  preservation  uncivilization  decivilization  consent  empire  imperialism  body  objects  cosmopolitanism  charlieparker  basquiat  weirdness  donaldglover  neildegrassetyson  issarae  georgeclinton  tshibumbakanda-matulu  charlesmingus  samueldelany  saidiyahartman  clrjames  françoisgirard  davidhammon  héliooiticica  lauraharris  charlesolson  susanhowe  criticism  art  stefanoharney  jacquesderrida  jean-michelbasquiat  theodoradorno 
december 2017 by robertogreco
Rachel Held Evans on Twitter: "The folks you're shutting out of the church today will be leading it tomorrow. That's how the Spirit works. The future's in the margins."
"The folks you're shutting out of the church today will be leading it tomorrow. That's how the Spirit works. The future's in the margins."

[See also: "Imagine that: the margins as holy places.
The world turned upside down."
https://twitter.com/KaitlinCurtice/status/884496381049790464 ]
margins  outsiders  religion  rachelheld  2017  church  christianity 
july 2017 by robertogreco
Second Sight - The New Yorker
"Movement in the margins is not enough. Regularity becomes invisible. You switch up the moves, you introduce irregularity, in order to maintain visibility."



"The neurons in the visual system adapt to the stimulus, and redirect their attention."



"Years later, I lost faith. One form of binocular vision gave way to another. The world was now a series of interleaved apparitions. The thing was an image that could also bear an image. If one of the advantages of irreligion was an acceptance of others, that benefit was strangely echoed in the visual plane, which granted the things seen within the photographic rectangle a radical equality. This in part was why signs, pictures, ads, and murals came to mean so much: they were neither more nor less than the “real” elements by which they were framed. They were not to be excluded, nor were the spaces between things. “We see the world”: this simple statement becomes (Merleau-Ponty has also noted this) a tangled tree of meanings. Which world? See how? We who? Once absolute faith is no longer possible, perception moves forward on a case-by-case basis. The very contingency and brevity of vision become the long-sought miracle."



"The stage is set. Things seem to be prepared in advance for cameos, and even the sun is rigged like the expert lighting of a technician. The boundary between things and props is now dissolved, and the images of things have become things themselves."



"The body has to adjust to the environment, to the challenges in the environment. The body isn’t wrong, isn’t “disabled.” The environment itself—gravity, air, solidity or the lack of it, et cetera—is what is somehow wrong: ill-matched to the body’s abilities, inimical to its verticality, stability, or mobility."



"I rest at a concrete outcrop with a bunting of vintners’ blue nets, a blue the same color as the lake. It is as though something long awaited has come to fruition. A gust of wind sweeps in from across the lake. The curtain shifts, and suddenly everything can be seen. The scales fall from our eyes. The landscape opens. No longer are we alone: they are with us now, have been all along, all our living and all our dead."
tejucole  2017  margins  edges  attention  regularity  everyday  irregularity  visibility  invisibility  acceptance  belief  vision  photography  borders  liminalspaces  perception  brevity  ephemerality  adjustment  adaptability  disability  stability  mobility  verticality  body  bodies  contingency  sign  pictures  ads  images  advertising  between  betweenness  stimuli  liminality  ephemeral  disabilities 
june 2017 by robertogreco
Mask: To Be Young, Disaffected, and Black
"It’s been one year since the murder of Mike Brown in the suburban Midwest drew a fault line across the US. So much has been written on the subject, that I’ll spare you the retrospection and simply say that the militant uprising in Ferguson, MO following Mike’s killing represents a kind of historical milestone. Ferguson stands as the point in time after which all discussion about racialized extrajudicial police murder must also include a certain sympathy for the insurrection that will inevitably erupt.

A year later, I’m troubled by Mike’s ghost. Specifically, the specter of his figure in a graduation gown. For most white Americans in my peer groups, college was a kind of grand farce. A place they went. A concession to their parents for which they are deeply indebted. I can count on one hand the number of educated white people my age that I know who currently have a job that their undergraduate degree enabled. The education system and its financial structure are indisputably and profoundly broken. Yet, most of the discourse around racial inequality still holds education as the “way out” of the cycle of poverty for poor people of color. That’s what I was told, anyway. Post-secondary education is seen as a kind of missing ingredient in the “elevation” of communities of color, and a metric for how likely a person of color is to escape the hell of precarious service labor in a nation that measures economic recovery in Dunkin’ Donuts jobs.

This double-standard is fascinating. It’s as if Mike Brown’s murder was more tragic because he was robbed of the rare opportunity of escape, even though that escape was college, a farce under any other circumstance. “But he was about to escape!” We are not allowed even the apparition of escape.

*****

I was one of those kids who got good test scores but never did my homework. In secondary school, I tested into the advanced classes, but then got Ds. I can’t remember a single instance of handing in a piece of homework. It’s not that I hated school per se, I just didn’t see the point. I grew up in rural Middle America as a working class black kid in a mostly white town – we’re talking 95% white. I had a very dim view of what I could do with my life.

Eleven Augusts ago, I was sixteen and I spent all of my money on a one-way bus ticket to an international anarchist gathering in Iowa farmland. Stepping out of my little world, leaving behind the abjection of white conservative modesty and “well-meaning” racialized social constructions. What I experienced there changed my life forever. I returned home with plans to drop out of high school and drop out of whatever I was fated to become.

By the next January, I had left high school. I had left my hometown to publish radical literature (on newspaper in those days) in a larger adjacent city. I taught myself to design, to prepare files for offset printing, to distribute literature on the internet. I organized a nationwide tour of small nowhere towns like mine, to search for other kids like myself. The following summer, I was a seventeen-year-old anarchist criminal, eating from the garbage, fleeing the police, going on adventures with people I had just met. Meeting people all across the country who, like me, had decided to drop out in one form or another.

I spent the next ten years designing radical literature and producing websites to the same ends. Building community spaces, breaking little laws, orchestrating tensions. I was living from odd-job to odd-job, not really thinking about my career or education as contiguous or even existent. Yet, the whole experience left me with what I now realize is the most valuable piece of knowledge in life: You can teach yourself how to do anything that can be done.

That was the ethic of the DIY culture of the late 90s and early 2000s. It was a culture of thousands of kids – we organized show spaces, produced our own books and newspapers, maintained deep networks from city to city such that any wide-eyed young person could enter into it and travel from place to place, and find a couch, or guest bed, or boat to sleep on. These were the days before AirBnB, before “Do I know anyone in Boston?” Facebook posts. It was a dropout culture that has since scattered: disintegrated into young urban professionalism, entered into the seclusion of high political critique, or settled into lumpen criminality.

I count myself among the disintegrated. The skills I built during that era of my life happen to correspond with real jobs, real career opportunities. I’m a designer and developer, but more so I’m self-taught with a decade of experience, which these days is ironically much more valuable than a design or computer science degree. I can find work that interests and challenges me, and I can get paid. I have friends with master’s degrees who serve drinks, and when I think back on how much skepticism I got from loved ones for dropping out of high school and living the life that I did, it’s honestly bizarre.

*****

If I learned anything between chugging gallons of dumpster-dived carrot juice and stealing electricity from lamp-poles, it’s that dropping out prepares you to survive coming economic crises in ways you can’t even anticipate. Sure, I thought I was preparing for an imminent ecological collapse and can therefore make my own rope, compost, and weapons – but it also taught me how to build websites and distribute information quickly. That latter thing has proven to be more useful to me than guerrilla gardening was, and points to a more insidious reality about the “margins”. Namely, that being marginalized taught me more skills for surviving in the new economy than the education system could.

When the flames were finally extinguished at the QT convenience store in Ferguson a year ago, participants in the riots, neighbors, criminals, the criminalized, looters, church moms ... all came together in its wreckage to play music and celebrate the first true victory against police occupation of the era. The fantasy of every anarchist dropout for the last decade happened there on the streets of West Florissant.

I no longer agree that one can ever really “drop out” of society, nor that dedicating oneself to trying to is without its problematics. But I do know that attending that shady anarchist gathering when I was 16 saved my life, and dropping out of high school opened my world to a new possibility of life in opposition to authoritarian power. DIY anarchist punk can’t do that today, but something can. And should.

This is the Dropout Issue, where we tap our pencils, anxious for the bell to ring. We’ll take a close look at different dropout movements, personal accounts of student rebellions large and small. We’ll throw a side-eyed glance at economic assimilation, but glare equally suspiciously at those who think a new world is possible. Our elders will suggest that we “keep our doors open” and we will completely ignore that advice. Thanks for your patience with this late issue, the dog ate our homework."
tylerreinhard  youth  dropouts  education  race  us  society  anarchism  anarchy  economics  diy  ethics  work  labor  careers  unschooling  deschooling  culture  resilience  survival  margins  marginalization  disaffection  ferguson  highered  highereducation  poverty  class 
december 2015 by robertogreco
Twine, the Video-Game Technology for All - NYTimes.com
"One of the most prominent and critically acclaimed Twine games has been Howling Dogs, a haunting meditation about trauma and escapism produced in 2012 by a woman named Porpentine. The gameplay begins in a claustrophobic metal room bathed in fluorescent light. Although you can’t leave, you can “escape” once a day by donning a pair of virtual-­reality goggles. Each time, you’re launched into a strange and lavishly described new world where you play a different role: a doomed young empress learning the art of dying; a scribe trying to capture the beauty of a garden in words; a Joan of Arc-like figure waiting to be burned on a pyre. And each time you return to the metal room, it’s a little dirtier and a little more dilapidated — the world around you slowly decomposing as you try to disappear into a virtual one.

“When you have trauma,” Porpentine says, “everything shrinks to this little dark room.” While the immersive glow of a digital screen can offer a temporary balm, “you can’t stay stuck on the things that help you deal with trauma when it’s happening. You have to move on. You have to leave the dark room, or you’ll stay stunted.”

When I first met Porpentine outside a coffee shop in Oakland, Calif., she was wearing a skirt and patterned knee socks, her strawberry blond hair pulled back in a small plastic barrette. We decided to head to a nearby park, and as we walked across the grass, she pivoted on one foot — an instant, unconscious gesture — and did a quick little spin in the sunshine. When we arrived at a park bench, one of the first things we talked about was trash, because her Twine games teem with it: garbage, slime and sludge, pooling and oozing through dystopian landscapes peopled by cyborgs, insectoid empresses and deadly angels. In Howling Dogs, the trash piles up sticky and slow; in other games, like All I Want Is for All of My Friends to Become Insanely Powerful, tar floods the room suddenly from an indistinct source. Forget pretty things, valuable things: Porpentine’s games are far more interested in what society discards as worthless."



"Many people describe a sort of catharsis that they feel when they play Porpentine’s games. There’s a sudden sense of relief that something important but taboo has finally been acknowledged in a game, and perhaps has left them feeling less alone in the process. So many mainstream games are power fantasies, designed to deliver the bliss of limitless violence. Porpentine’s games tend to be poetic meditations on the scars that violence leaves behind, beautiful but claustrophobic landscapes that thrust players into positions of powerlessness and challenge them to work their way out."



"“The amount of people who have access to the engineering education required to be in programming is very, very small,” says Anna Anthropy, a game developer whose book “Rise of the Videogame Zinesters” helped put Twine on the map in 2012. “And even within that, there are a lot of ways that people are filtered out by the culture.” Anthropy has taught Twine workshops to everyone from 9-year-olds to 70-something retirees who had never played a video game in their lives, and she says they picked it up with equal ease. “If you’re someone who hasn’t played a lot of video games and you’re handed this tool where all you need to do is write, maybe you’re just going to write something about you,” she says. “Maybe you’re going to write something about your pet. There’s no reason you have to create something that’s about space marines.”

The beauty of Twine is that you can make games about almost anything. Over the last several years, it has also been used to create a memorial to a dead brother, a cannibal dating simulator, a 50,000-word interactive horror tale about being trapped in a spacecraft with a lethal alien. One of Anthropy’s most moving Twine games, Queers in Love at the End of the World, lasts only 10 seconds. The moment it begins, a timer starts counting down to an unspecified apocalypse; that’s all the time you have to say goodbye to your lover before the world disappears. There’s a poignant desperation in the brief experience that cuts to the heart of grief — the sense that you simply didn’t have enough time with the person you loved. Rather than offering closure, the game leaves you empty and aching by design."
porpentine  games  gaming  interactivefiction  videogames  twine  2014  laurahudson  annaanthropy  suicide  death  margins  if 
november 2014 by robertogreco
Marginal Space - Marginal Space as a Concept
"In libraries, marginal space is a rather technical term used primarily to refer to binding -- what we do to assemble pages into a unit, or volume. The pages must have blank space at the edges that will be joined, or else the binding will prevent the reader from seeing what was there. A book or journal can have wide margins (good for blinding) or tight margins (not so good).

Marginal space is a concept that is also used in many, many other domains. Here are just a few examples.

"Liminality is not concerned with the old strategies of the edge, the avant garde and the marginal. Instead it is a notion offering a new way to experiment and create using the in between spaces, the interstices. Liminality is fluid, open, unfixed, inclusive, diverse." Shards of Memories, Fragments of Sorrows: Transforming Marginal Space into Liminal Space for Women in Theatre (PDF: large)

"Today the Marginal space grows wider and more interesting while the space for the main text seems to shrink in significance."
Judith McGrath, Carolina Arts, November 2004.

"Marginal space is public space that, lacking satisfactory levels of design, amenities, or aesthetic appeal deters members of the public from using the space for any purpose."
NYC Dept. of City Planning

"If you're working with marginal space ... Well, one of those spaces is on the edge of the law." Adam Chodzko

"Society can establish a stable position by creating some marginal space. Often, only by creating an outside, by creating ideological dichotomies a society can generate stability."
Toshiya Ueno

So, me? I am fascinated with margins, spaces, boundaries, how and why we decide what and who fits in which boxes, and then also how to blur or make crisp the edges between boxes and boundaries and edges. This is my space to explore marginal space."q
margins  marginalspace  binding  publishing  marginalia  liminality  2006  liminalspaces 
august 2014 by robertogreco
Duke Riley :: Artist + Patriot
"My work addresses the prospect of residual but forgotten unclaimed frontiers on the edge and inside overdeveloped urban areas, and their unsuspected autonomy. I am interested in the struggle of marginal peoples to sustain independent spaces within all-encompassing societies, the tension between individual and collective behavior, the conflict with institutional power. I pursue an alternative view of hidden borderlands and their inhabitants through drawing, printmaking, mosaic, sculpture, performative interventions, and video structured as complex multimedia installations.

I often work in the tradition of field naturalists, seeking and gathering data, artifacts, and specimens outdoors, transporting them inside for closer observation and study, displaying them in museum-like diorama settings. I combine populist myths and reinvented historical obscurities with contemporary social dilemmas, connecting past and present, drawing attention to unsolved issues. Throughout my projects I profile the space where water meets the land, traditionally marking the periphery of urban society, what lies beyond rigid moral constructs, a sense of danger and possibility."

[via: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/10/17/arts/design/avian-artistry-with-smuggled-cigars.html ]
art  artists  brooklyn  dukeriley  outdoors  frontiers  borders  urban  autonomy  margins  macollectivebehavior  borderlands 
october 2013 by robertogreco
Dear Cooper Union community, We regret to inform... - Fresser.
"Damn. I make no secret of the fact that I didn’t like Cooper Union much when I went there. But I loved Bob Breer. He taught me how to see some things I’d never really looked at, and was the kind of professor who taught from the margins, from the edges, and respected the work that came from those same places.

Among everything else, Bob was — like my dad — a product of the period immediately following WW2, when America (and in Bob’s case, Paris) provided opportunities for veterans who would otherwise never have had them. Which is just a reminder of the value of such things, because that was value that was passed on to at least two generations of his students. He was generous with his ideas and his time, and I have thought of him often. RIP, Bob Breer."
kevinslavin  teaching  bobbreer  margins  edges  opportunity  cooperunion  2011  film  animation  legends  generosity  whatmatters  relationships  tcsnmy  cv 
august 2011 by robertogreco
Learning from the Extremes - Charlie Leadbeater & Annika Wong - Core77
"That kind of disruptive innovation may not come from the best schools. It is much more likely to come from social entrepreneurs who often seek to meet huge need without the resources for traditional solutions: teachers, text books and schools. Disruptive innovation frequently starts in the margins rather than the mainstream.
education  learning  disruption  charlesleadbeater  change  gamechanging  margins  participatory  future  innovation  schools  deschooling  unschooling  tcsnmy 
february 2010 by robertogreco

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