Embedded Files
MY NOTEBOOK LOG
Here should be an introduction to the project, but first some ideas in relation to the notes and how these could influence the building of this performative object.
What is a "notebook"? A notebook is a very simple idea: it is only that fold in which we write down and paint and stick things. A place where everything goes in, next to each other, without much order, in times that overlap and without rigid hierarchies. But a notebook is not just an object or a tool, but a device of thought, or a way of being in the world, whose peculiar operations can become the research itself.
What is a "notebook"? A notebook is a very simple idea: it is only that fold in which we write down and paint and stick things. A place where everything goes in, next to each other, without much order, in times that overlap and without rigid hierarchies. But a notebook is not just an object or a tool, but a device of thought, or a way of being in the world, whose peculiar operations can become the research itself.
But, most of the times, in a moment the notebook is "debugged", so the infinite becomes finite, and the flow stops, and levels and hierarchies are created. The limits, the taboo and the impossible appear. No longer everything is worth, nor everything comes in.
But, most of the times, in a moment the notebook is "debugged", so the infinite becomes finite, and the flow stops, and levels and hierarchies are created. The limits, the taboo and the impossible appear. No longer everything is worth, nor everything comes in.
This project is, in some way, an attempt to assimilate what my notebooks had always proposed. A proposal that was always kept outside of the research as a personal defeat in front of the most classical representative device.
This project is, in some way, an attempt to assimilate what my notebooks had always proposed. A proposal that was always kept outside of the research as a personal defeat in front of the most classical representative device.
Lo mágico y lo subjetivo
Lo mágico y lo subjetivo
The magical and the subjective
The magical and the subjective
How to build an autonomous and situated path of thinking.
How to build an autonomous and situated path of thinking.
A peripheral language.
A peripheral language.
FROM THE ENDS OF THE WORLD:
“Why do all sides seem to be in agreement on at least this point: “we cannot go back”? Considering that what is at issue here is obviously not the equally enticing physical question concerning the “arrow of time,” and that it is perfectly evident that we cannot move backward chronologically – at least not according to our present ontological vulgate, which we see no reason to contest here – we should wonder what is so seemingly obvious about this oft-repeated sentence. What makes it so appealing or, rather, what makes doubting its pertinence so shocking? We have two things to say about this before we draw to a close our exploration of present mythologies about the end of the world and of humanity. First of all, the incapacity to mourn that which is already dead is dreadful; worse still, it is deadly. Each day that goes by confirms the impression that we are already living, and shall live more and more, in a radically diminished world. learn from these minor peoples who resist in an impoverished world which is not even their own any more. Let us once again remember the fragility and transparence of the “magic cave” built by “Aunt Steelbreaker” in Lars Von Trier's Melancholia . Maybe nothing will ever look as pointless and pathetic as this purely formal shelter, a rough sketch of an indigenous teepee, and the small ritual that takes place inside it for a few seconds. Yet what takes place there, far from being a “merely” desperate and futile ritual, is a masterful bricolage, an emergency solution , a wild concept-object that expresses an acute perception of the essentially technical, technological nature of the efficacious ritual gesture… the only thing in that moment that is capable of transforming the inescapable effect of the shock (Stenger's “ therefore …”) into an event, in the sense that Deleuze and Guattari ( 1994: 156) give to that concept when they say it is “the part that eludes its own actualization in everything that happens.” There, in that almost purely virtual hut, inside and outside become indistinguishable, and past, present, and future coalesce, as in the time machine in H. G. Wells’ homonymous book (yet another great myth about the worldless humans of the future). Or, rather, what passes (the pass ) in that hut is an operation of deceleration, of slowing down, which enables the extraction of a paradoxical dimension of time, elicits a change in the order of sense, “such that time is interrupted in order to be resumed on another plane” (Zourabichvili 2012: 143). Dead time (Deleuze and Guattari 1994: 158), like that of The Turin Horse , in which nothing passes apart from the gypsies’ cart, which in any case passes on a completely other plane, the plane of the event and of becoming (“Chrysippus taught: ‘If you say “chariot”, a chariot passes through your lips.’ ” Deleuze 1990: 18). Just as we once abhorred the vacuum, today we find repugnant the very idea of deceleration, regression, retreat, limitation, degrowth, applying brakes, descent – sufficiency . 15 Anything that brings to mind any of these movements toward an intensive sufficiency of world (instead of an epic overcoming of the “limits” separating us from a hyperworld) is immediately accused of naïve localism, primitivism, irrationalism, bad conscience, guilt, or even just fascistic tendencies, period. 16 In almost all the dominant forms of “our” historico-futurological imagination today, there is only one thinkable and desirable direction, the one that goes from “negative” to “positive”: from less to more, from the possession of little to the property of much, from “techniques of subsistence” to “cutting-edge technology,” from the Paleolithic nomad to the modern cosmopolitan citizen, from the savage Indian to the civilized worker.”FROM THE ENDS OF THE WORLD:
A Xon talking with Martin Gusinde:
"Oh, if we, the xon, could have caught with our yauatejn the koli of the koliot! We would have killed all those hated whites!" At that time there were still many and very powerful xon. Each of them tried with the greatest effort to get close to the kaspi of the whites, but none succeeded. How many times did I try it myself! Not to say anything else: The kaspi of the whites is different from the kaspi of our Selk'nam. Their kaspi is so mobile, so wild and untamed, that it always escapes our yauatejn. Otherwise, we the Xon would have quickly given the coup de grace to those strangers (...) the strength of sorcerers can not threaten the life and soul of whites ... "A Xon talking with Martin Gusinde:
Un xon hablando con Martin Gusinde
"¡Oh, si nosotros, los xon, hubiéramos podido atrapar con nuestro yauatejn el kaspi de los koliot! ¡A todos esos odiados blancos los hubiéramos matado! En aquel entonces aun había muchos y muy poderosos xon. Cada uno de ellos trató con el mayor esfuerzo de acercarse a1 kaspi de los blancos, pero ninguno tuvo éxito. ¡Cuantas veces lo intenté yo mismo! No se decir otra cosa: El kaspi de los blancos es distinto del kaspi de nuestros selk’nam. El kaspi de ellos es tan móvil, tan salvaje e indómito, que siempre se le escapa a nuestros yauatejn. De no ser así, nosotros los xon hubiéramos dado rápidamente el golpe de gracia a esos extraños (...) la fuerza de los hechiceros no puede atentar contra la vida y el alma de los blancos..." Un xon hablando con Martin Gusinde
" I prefer death a thousand times
" I prefer death a thousand times
Than to endure leftovers "
Than to endure leftovers "
From
From
Ritualistic
Ritualistic
To
To
Narcissistic
Narcissistic
Tychbornes Elegie
Written with his owne hand in the Tower before his executionMy prime of youth is but a frost of cares,My feast of joy is but a dish of paine,My Crop of corne is but a field of tares,And al my good is but vaine hope of gaine.The day is past, and yet I saw no sunne,And now I live, and now my life is done.My tale was heard, and yet it was not told,My fruite is falne, & yet my leaves are greene:My youth is spent, and yet I am not old,I saw the world, and yet I was not seene.My thred is cut, and yet it is not spunne,And now I live, and now my life is done.I sought my death, and found it in my wombe,I lookt for life, and saw it was a shade:I trod the earth, and knew it was my Tombe,And now I die, and now I was but made.My glasse is full, and now my glasse is runne,And now I live, and now my life is done.Tychbornes Elegie
"Through these interstices emerges what have in common the crime perpetrated against the indigenous peoples and the drama that our country is living in the present: a fierce dispossession exerted through a coercion that has become natural, invisible and therefore non-existent."
"Poetry is nothing more than a luminous signals system. Bonfires that we kindle down here, in darkness, for someone to see us, so they do not forget us." Leon Felipe
I don't know what to do with this pain. With this anger. I cannot even watch this without feeling stomachache and tears pushing my eyes. I only could write a story. And I only could cry, and vomit this sadness and anger in something else than words.
"Pues también hay esto: que se busca que algo pase en un rostro en la noche de Montparnasse, en una voz oída en el teléfono, una curva o una recta de entonación, un silencio, una fijeza, una fuerza de relámpago, y nada sucede. Y que, lejos de sentir por ello resentimiento o disgusto, amamos con la más dura impaciencia esa reserva. Danza incluye suspenso, como música incluye silencio"
(Lyotard)
(Lyotard)
Something is going wrong.
These are the left overs of the party. Horrible party. Somewhere, near, they continue partying. By the end of the night, I would be dead. And some kind of revolution will be ongoing, but before that, you may follow me...
Now we are in a desert. Here I grew up. There is nothing but a small house, a wooden house near a dry canal. Red-yellow stones. Wind.
Have you ever try glue? to get stoned?
It's like been drunk at the end of the night laying on the floor receiving kicks all over your head. And this sticky sharp metallic smell all over your body...
So we are in the desert. The wind is blowing, and you walk to the house. You open the door, get inside. The house is unstable. The roof is sounding and moving cause of the wind. Everything is fragile. And you sit down. Here. In a small little chair and start looking everything around involved in this noisy environment, surrounded by kilometres of dessert. And suddenly the wind stops, and the silence came over. Everything is silence.
And you realize that you are waiting for something. Waiting for something to happen.
Ismaïl Bahri
How Nicolas could became a killer? How he could burn to death a person? I know him, I play games with him. I remember the last time I saw him. he was 13 or 14 years old, I was 18 and we ate hot dogs, as always the wind was blowing. He had sadness in his eyes, and he looked tired. I was there with Fernando (isn't strange this?). Then, 5 years later the horror. i never go to visit him to the prison. I THINK THAT MAYBE I SHOULD DO THAT (But it's hard for me)
- "I call pedagogies of cruelty to all the acts and practices that teach, habituate and program the subjects to transmute the living and their vitality into things. In that sense, this pedagogy teaches something that goes far beyond killing, teaches to kill by a de-ritualized death, a death that leaves nothing but waste in the place of the deceased. " Rita Segato
Gender construction in Selk'nam people:
Gender construction in Selk'nam people:
Fiore_D._2007._Painted_genders_the_const.pdf
THE VALLEY OF LAMENTATION
THE VALLEY OF LAMENTATION
(Book Manuscript)
João Biehl
João Biehl
The Mucker War
The Mucker War
The body of a beheaded woman was found in May 1993 in the woods near São Leopoldo, the first German colony founded in 1824 in the southern province of Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil. As if the brutal killing wasn’t bizarre enough, the stories that explained her death were equally strange–they speak to a history of violence in that region.Local newspapers reported that very little was known about the beheaded woman’s identity, aside from her dark skin, her scar from a caesarean section, and her age of roughly thirty years. No fingerprint matches could be made, and her head was not found. The local police chief, in a peculiar move, ordered a dummy to be dressed in the victim’s clothes “so as to rouse the memory of the people.” Someone might recall having seen a woman dressed similarly, he reasoned, and “might then contact us” (Jornal NH 1993).This story was also mentioned in Zero Hora, the province’s main newspaper, in a report on the increasing number of homicides in that relatively prosperous region (ZH 1993). The report stated that the violence originated in metropolitan- area slums now occupied by the legions of unemployed migrants looking for work in local shoe factories, and that middle-class citizens were now building walls around their homes and arming themselves. One reporter went so far as to associate that “migrant violence” with a phantasmatic reoccurrence. A headline read, “Violence Is Resurrected in the Land of the Mucker.” For over a century, the word “Mucker” has signified sectarian fanaticism, communal breakdown, and murderous violence in the region.Following independence from Portugal, the new imperial administration founded the colony of São Leopoldo for some two thousand German immigrants. Given external pressures (mostly from Great Britain) and the urgency to feed a growing urban population, the country needed to find alternatives to slavery and to diversify its agricultural production. Then and in the following decades, thousands of German peasants, Lumpenproletariat, and former prisoners were recruited with promises of land, full-fledged citizenship, and religious rights, none of which would be fully granted. In this Catholic land, Protestant baptisms and marriages had no legal significance; the colonists also had no rights to participate in local administrations. Overall, the history of the São Leopoldo colony epitomizes the makeshift ways in which the plans for Brazil’s modernization have again and again been structured. They are attempts to follow external models and coexist with oligarchic modes of control (Brazil was the last country in the Western Hemisphere to abolish slavery in 1888). In reality, plans are only partially carried out, and people have to invent infrastructures parallel to the state in order to guarantee their survival.Available statistics say that some five million Germans entered Brazil between 1819 and 1947.Until the 1840s, the colonists were subsistence farmers, but that would change as agricultural products began to find their way into the thriving markets of Porto Alegre as well as those of São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro (following a coffee plantation boom). By the late 1860s, the region was prospering, attracting investments from Britain (for railroad construction) and imports from Germany (a range of industrialized goods, from nails to textiles to champagne). Lutheran and Jesuit missionaries came as well.In its coverage of the 1993 beheading story, Zero Hora reported that around 1872 a group of second-generation German-speaking colonists, from various social ranks, began to be singled out as “Mucker” (meaning very religious, stubborn, and hypocritical people) by their neighbors and local authorities. For several years, people from all over the region had been meeting peacefully around the teachings of Jacobina Mentz Maurer and the herbal medicine prepared by her husband, João Jorge Maurer. Most of them were Lutherans, but Catholics also attended the meetings. According to the newspaper, the Mucker were led by “a woman suffering from psychological disturbances.” Local clergy prohibited parishioners from witnessing Jacobina’s trances, as she was said to be interpreting the Bible in a messianic way and engaging in adultery and civil disobedience. According to the newspaper, the ostracized Mucker sought revenge by ambushing local authorities and by burning down neighboring homes and trading posts. The report noted that the army was justifiably called in to respond to the Mucker’s deadly actions and to restore order.Military records show that the Maurers’ house was attacked and set on fire on July 19, 1874. Dozens of men, women and children died in the attack, as did Colonel Genuíno Sampaio, who led the provincial and imperial troops, aided by locals. Several Mucker survived and were taken to prison. Seventeen of them, including thirty-three year-old Jacobina and her newborn child, escaped and hid the nearby woods. Two weeks later, the group was found and killed. Soldiers and colonists mutilated the dead bodies–Jacobina’s mouth was slit–and placed them in a common grave in the woods. The body of João Jorge Maurer was never found. “Mucker” became a curse word and a heuristic for violence and impunity–a continuous legend of the present.Omitted from the Zero Hora report is the fact that the military action against the Mucker was sponsored by the Germanist upper class living in the capital Porto Alegre (then Brazil’s fourth-largest city) and was silently supported by the religious authorities, newly arrived in the region. Karl von Koseritz, a Freemason philosopher and politician who also directed the influential newspaper Deutsche Zeitung (DZ), spearheaded the anti-Mucker campaign. In reference to the Mucker, Koseritz wrote, “These swindlers don’t deserve citizenship. They adore as Christ a woman who with good reason should be considered a Babylonian whore. For this band there is room either in the penitentiary or in the mad house. They have spread over society like a deadly poison. If the government does not liberate society from this monster, the inhabitants of the colonies will themselves seek justice by lynching. Deaths will come” (DZ 12/10/1873).At the peak of the armed conflict, the Deutsche Zeitung‘s editorial read, “The Mucker have to be banished to a land where there are still cannibals. We have to treat them humanly: at deportation we should give the Mucker guns and ammunition. They would then have the opportunity to satiate their death instinct while killing cannibals, and the cannibals would have the pleasure of having Mucker for breakfast. In this way, we would help the Mucker as well as the cannibals” (DZ 7/22/1874). Meanwhile, members of the local German Society for Gymnastics and Hunting had taken over the civic guard of Porto Alegre: “We want to prove to the Brazilian government as well as to the other nations that we by no means share the sentiments of those [criminals] who call themselves our compatriots. On the contrary, we desire to contribute to their extermination” (letter to the President of the state of Rio Grande do Sul, 7/2/1874).Immediately after the war, Koseritz (under the pseudonym C.M.S.) published a report in the German magazine Die Gartenlaube entitled, “Jacobina Maurer, the Feminine Christ, amidst the Germans in Brazil.” The Mucker events should interest the aufgeklärte Deutschen (enlightened Germans), he wrote: “How could a noncultured and libertine woman as Jacobina–who does not read anything which is handwritten and only reads with difficulty what is printed–have gained so much influence over a high number of honored and hard-working men? One is tempted to believe in a certain form of mental alienation, as we can find reference in the reports of the horrendous times of the trials against the witches. . . . It is unfortunate that in spite of all the progress of humanity, an individual can still fall so deeply into the superstition of backward times. We deplore the fact that what the poet Schiller wrote still survives today: “The worst of all horrors is man in his illusion.”
a LIFE.pdf
FROM CATARINA'S DICTIONARY:
FROM CATARINA'S DICTIONARY:
The pen between my fingers is my work
I am convicted to death
I never convicted anyone and I have the power to
This is the major sin
A sentence without remedy
The minor sin
Is to want to separate
My body from my spirit
....
“Underneath was this, which I do not attempt to name”
....
I prefer death a thousand times
Than to endure leftovers
....
I
I want to go
Nobody
I spend the whole night weeping
How many tears of pain
In agony
In this valley of tears
I want to go
“ ‘We’ve gotten used to death,’ he heard the young guy say. ‘Always,’ said the grey-haired guy, ‘it has always been that way’.” Roberto Bolaño, 2666.
“1. The dead surround the living. The living are the core of the dead.”
John Berger, Twelve Theses on the Economy of the Dead.
“ … and I can’t tell you who the hell set things up like thisbut I can tell you that from now on my resistance my simple and daily and nightly self-determination may very well cost you your life”
June Jordan, Poem About My Rights.
“Home is where one starts from.[…]And the end of all exploringWill be to arrive where we startedAnd know the place for the first time.”
T.S. Eliot, The Four Quartets
“1. The dead surround the living. The living are the core of the dead.”
John Berger, Twelve Theses on the Economy of the Dead.
“ … and I can’t tell you who the hell set things up like thisbut I can tell you that from now on my resistance my simple and daily and nightly self-determination may very well cost you your life”
June Jordan, Poem About My Rights.
“Home is where one starts from.[…]And the end of all exploringWill be to arrive where we startedAnd know the place for the first time.”
T.S. Eliot, The Four Quartets
Vídeo el 23-10-18 a las 15.36.mov
IMG_1372.mov
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