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posted on 05.31.09

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Architecture

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Architecture

structures (homes, public buildings) that simultaneously beg the question of disintegration (how far can something fall apart before it ceases being that thing?) and which enunciate socio-elemental legacies of the middle east: the architecture of mehrdad iravanian conjugates the folkloric and the hypermodern to form a transtemporal cybernetics of design.

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Theater

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Theatre

boal was the founder of the theater of the oppressed, named in honor of paulo freire's pedagogy of the oppressed. boal's improvisatory approach considered the soapoperaesque 'tragi-dramas' of most contemporary theater to be a diffuse, unwitting tool of state control.

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Sound Art

amacher, a sound artist who studied with cage and stockhausen, and who currently teaches at bard, has no (or negligible) interest in recordings. her work, which is primarily concerned with psycoacoustics, is too immersive for compact disc and is highly site specific (i.e. the teotihuacan pyramids.) live, her music is a an exercise in perception, confusion, euphoric rush, and deterritorialization.


this interview from '99 goes into amacher's interest in architecture, science-fiction (ballard & eshun!) and turning places into sound:


http://archive.futuresonic.com/sensesonic/archive/MARYANNE/msg-0001.html

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posted on 05.30.09

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Independent Film

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Film Theory

as mentioned in the blog below, the dominance of the french new wave and so-called american independent film in cinematic discourse is long overdue for a dispersion; what i'd like to suggest is a working list of independently-minded films and filmmakers which offer other perspectives on the form, be they postcolonial, emerging out of nonalignment movements, feminist, etc. these films recognize that micropolitical intervention finds struggle and problematics at the very level of form. think of this not as an anti-cannon, but simply a countercartography.


handsworth songs, who needs a heard, seven songs for malcom x, the black audio film collective


2046, wong-kar wai


79 springtimes, santiago alvarez


the apu trilogy, satyajit ray


bad lieutenant, abel ferrara


bad timing, nick roeg


battle of algiers, gillo pontecarvo


blade runner, ridley scott


close-up, a taste of cherry, abbas kiarostami


the cloud capped star, ritwik ghatak


elephant, alan clark


ganja & hess, bill gunn


the gleaners & i, agnes varda


heat, michael mann


hour of the furnaces, octavio getino & fernando e. solanas


inland empire, david lynch


the intruder, claire denis


jaguar, jean rouch


kaagaz ke phool, guru dutt


le samourai, j.p. melville


a moment of innocence, mohsen makhmalbaf


otolith i-iii, the otolith group


rockers, ted bafaloukos


salvatore giuliano, francesco rosi


sans soleil, grin without a cat, chris marker


state of siege, costa gavras


soy cuba, mikhail kalatozov


symbiopsychotaxiplasm take one, william greaves


videogrammes of a revolution, harun farocki


all andrei tarkovsky


 

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“i'm just stealing blade runner back from its admirers.”
Posted over 5 years ago
“Great list, except, I don't get what Bladerunner is doing here! It's a staple of film school discourse, and pretty canonical... defend yourself!! Chris Marker and Agnes Varda, however, are definitely micropolitical intervention (what a great way of putting it).”
Posted over 5 years ago
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20th Century Music

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Brazil
Tropicalia
Mpb

The highly combustible (roughly) two-year period in Brazilian history in which the Tropicalia movement swept through music rightly receives much press (see Caetano Veloso's Tropical Truth for what could be as close as a definitive document for such a highly deterritorialized moment): a total liquidation of high and low culture constructs, prefiguring eclectic digitalia thirty years early.


However, the period immediately following ('70-'75, let's say) was at least as musically rich, if not as conspicuous in its deconstructionist fervor. While Laurel Canyon was a few thousand miles away, the Brazil70 aesthetic was not entirely removed from the same post-trip mellowness, if not somewhat less insular and markedly more comptent compositionally.


Here, in time for summer, and in no particular order are nine crucial post-tropicalia Brazilian records.


 


Novos Baianos-Acabou Chorare: Communal-folk stylings, some subtle, downcast-cosmic samba cannibalism, one or two sudden acid guitar solos to keep things from getting too soporific.


Gal Costa- India: Even split between early bossa Costa and a sort of pan-global, extended groove style marked by some tangoesque accordian work.


Milton Nascimento- Clube de Esquina: Collaborative record with Lo Borges, 'spiritual' in the best way, shimmering arrangements, an overall sophisticated-rural vibe.


Edu Lobo- Missa Breve: Langorous, lapsed-Catholic, slowed-down MPB. Most of Lobo's LP's from the 70's are keepers.


Arthur Verocai- s/t: The Brazilian David Axelrod? Huge breakbeats, angular string arrangements, swaths of delay feedback, gorgeous melodies. This has been sampled to death so crate-diggers keep moving, probably.


Jorge Ben- Africa Brasil: Ben, among other things, really enunciated the influence of West African rythm in Brazilian musics, as well as on this disc progenating a few strands of proto-disco DNA. Trivia: the track 'Taj Mahal' was pilfered in its entirety for Rod Stewart's "If You Think I'm Sexy."


Caetano Veloso- Joia: Whispy, fey, gossamer strands of voice, mbira, hand-percussion and a Beatles cover (Help) make this one of the least insufferable "domestic solo" LP's.


Caetano Veloso- Araza Azul: The influence (and excellence) of this record cannot be overstated: a post-acid musique concrete aprroach to the last half century of Brazilian song: microtonal singing, loops of fragments of songs, field recordings, and some quite subtle choices in pitch, panning, and mic placement. Playful, experimental, and surprisingly listenable, even to the uninitiated.


Nelson Angelo e Joyce- s/t: Angelo and Joyce were newlyweds when they recorded this LP, and it shows in the best way:dimly-lit, closely-harmonized guitars and voices, almost  reverse-psychedelia (expansively intimate, cosmos within.)


 


 

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The Cannibal Manifesto

Cannibal Manifesto Only Cannibalism unites us. Socially. Economically. Philosophically. The unique law of the world. The disguised expression of all individualisms, all collectivisms. Of all religions. Of all peace treaties. Tupi or not tupi that is the question. Against all catechisms. And against the mother of the Gracos. I am only interested in what’s not mine. The law of men. The law of the cannibal. We are tired of all those suspicious Catholic husbands in plays. Freud finished off the enigma of woman and the other recent psychological seers. What dominated over truth was clothing, an impermeable layer between the interior world and the exterior world. Reaction against people in clothes. The American cinema will tell us about this. Sons of the sun, mother of living creatures. Fiercely met and loved, with all the hypocrisy of longing: importation, exchange, and tourists. In the country of the big snake. It’s because we never had grammatical structures or collections of old vegetables. And we never knew urban from suburban, frontier country from continental. Lazy on the world map of Brazil. One participating consciousness, one religious rhythm. Against all the importers of canned conscience. For the palpable existence of life. And let Levy-Bruhl go study prelogical mentality. We want the Cariba Revolution. Bigger than the French Revolution. For the unification of all the efficient revolutions for the sake of human beings. Without us, Europe would not even have had its paltry declaration of the rights of men. The golden age proclaimed by America. The golden age. And all the girls. Filiation. The contact with the Brazilian Cariba Indians. Ou Villegaignon print terre. Montaigne. Natural man. Rousseau. From the French Revolution to Romanticism, to the Bolshevik Revolution, to the Surrealist Revolution and the technological barbarity of Keyserling. We’re moving right along. We were never baptized. We live with the right to be asleep. We had Christ born in Bahia. Or in Belem do Pata. But for ourselves, we never admitted the birth of logic. Against Father Vieira, the Priest. Who made our first loan, to get a commission. The illiterate king told him: put this on paper but without too much talk. So the loan was made. Brazilian sugar was accounted for. Father Vieira left the money in Portugal and just brought us the talk. The spirit refuses to conceive spirit without body. Anthropomorphism. Necessity of cannibalistic vaccine. For proper balance against the religions of the meridian. And exterior inquisitions. We can only be present to the hearing world. We had the right codification of vengeance. The codified science of Magic. Cannibalism. For the permanent transformation of taboo into totem. Against the reversible world and objectified ideas. Made into cadavers. The halt of dynamic thinking. The individual a victim of the system. Source of classic injustices. Of romantic injustices. And the forgetfulness of interior conquests. Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays. Cariba instinct. Death and life of hypotheses. From the equation I coming from the Cosmos to the axiom Cosmos coming from the I. Subsistence. Knowledge. Cannibalism. Against the vegetable elites. In communication with solitude. We were never baptized. We had the Carnival. The Indian dressed as a Senator of the Empire. Acting the part of Pitt. Or playing in the operas of Alencar with many good Portuguese feelings. We already had communism. We already had a surrealist language. The golden age. Catiti Catiti Imara Notia Notia Imara Ipeju* Magic and life. We had relations and distribution of fiscal property, moral property, and honorific property. And we knew how to transport mystery and death with the help of a few grammatical forms. I asked a man what was Right. He answered me that it was the assurance of the full exercise of possibilities. That man was called Galli Mathias. I ate him. The only place there is no determinism is where there is mystery. But what has that to do with us? Against the stories of men that begin in Cape Finisterre. The world without dates. Without rubrics. Without Napoleon. Without Caesar. The fixation of progress by means of catalogues and television sets. Only with machinery. And blood transfusions. Against antagonistic sublimations brought over in sailing ships. Against the truth of the poor missionaries, defined through the wisdom of a cannibal, the Viscount of Cairo – It is a lie repeated many times. But no crusaders came to us. They were fugitives from a civilization that we are eating up, because we are strong and as vindictive as the land turtles. Only God is the conscience of the Uncreated Universe, Guaraci is the mother of all living creatures. Jaci is the mother of vegetables. We never had any speculation. But we believed in divination. We had Politics, that is, the science of distribution. And a socio-planetary system. Migrations. The flight from tedious states. Against urban scleroses. Against Conservatives and speculative boredom. From William James and Voronoff. Transfiguration of taboo into totem. Cannibalism. The pater familias is the creation of the stork fable: a real ignorance of things, a tale of imagination and a feeling of authority in front of curious crowds. We have to start from a profound atheism in order to reach the idea of God. But the Cariba did not have to make anything precise. Because they had Guaraci. The created object reacts like the Fallen Angel. Ever since, Moses has been wandering about. What is that to us? Before two Portuguese discovered Brazil, Brazil discovered happiness. Against the Indian de tocheiro. The Indian son of Mary, the godson of Catherine of Médicis and the son-in-law of Don Antonio de Mariz. Happiness is the real proof. No Pindorama matriarchy. Against Memory the source of habit. Renewed for personal experience. We are concrete. We take account of ideas, we react, we burn people in the public squares. We suppress ideas and other kinds of paralysis. Through screenplays. To believe in our signs, to believe in our instruments and our stars. Against Goethe, against the mother of the Gracos, and the Court of Don Juan VI. Happiness is the real proof. The struggle between what we might call the Uncreated and the Created – illustrated by the permanent contradiction of man and his taboo. Daily love and the capitalist modus vivendi. Cannibalism. Absorption of the sacred enemy. To transform him into a totem. The human adventure. Earthly finality. However, only the pure elite manage to realize carnal cannibalism within, some sense of life, avoiding all the evils Freud identified, those religious evils. What yields nothing is a sublimation of the sexual instinct. It is a thermometric scale of cannibalist instinct. Once carnal, it turns elective and creates friendship. Affectivity, or love. Speculative, science. It deviates and transfers. We arrive at utter vilification. In base cannibalism, our baptized sins agglomerate – envy, usury, calumny, or murder. A plague from the so-called cultured and Christianized, it’s what we are acting against. Cannibals. Against Anchieta singing the eleven thousand virgins in the land of Iracema – the patriarch Joa Ramalho the founder of Sao Paulo. Our independence was never proclaimed. A typical phrase of Don Juan VI – My son, put this crown on your head, before some adventurer does it! We expel the dynasty. We have to get rid of the Braganza spirit, the ordinations and snuff of Maria da Fonte. Against social reality, dressed and oppressive, defined by Freud – in reality we are complex, we are crazy, we are prostitutes and without prisons of the Pindorama matriarchy. Note: *"The New Moon, or the Lua Nova, blows in Everyman remembrances of me" from The Savages, by Couto Magalhaes.

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