MINUS THEATRE RESEARCH GROUP PRESENTS

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hommangerie
imarginaleiro
immedia
inanimadvertisement
infemmarie
luz es tiempo
theatricality
theatrum philosophicum
thigein & conatus

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postexegetical thetic palavers amok: on names, or, towards Minus’s next show, VMG (workshop 1) pt. 1

VMG is the acronym for Visit Me Genius, which is what, so far, after one workshop (the next tomorrow–come along!) I am calling Minus Theatre group’s next show, scheduled to have its public outing 26 June (come along!). It may change, the name, although this is what I called it in the recently finished exegesis (submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the qualification of … Palavers hi-Def) on Minus’s work over the last three years. It does not, the name, refer to mathematical, scientific or artistic genius, however; neither does it refer to political or diplomatic genius, if such a thing were today to exist. It is intended to refer to place, to the genius loci–the spirit of place, of a place, always singular, a place having a spirit which is unexchangeable and inequivalent to any other, nontranslatable from one to another and from place to place. A spirit must then speak in its own singular terms and be the definition, if not the embodiment and encapsulation, of the utmost and extreme differentiation, as an absolutely unique belonging of a place.

To be visited by the spirit of a place, what does it mean? I don’t know… but I do know; I think one does know: one is visited in some places by an uncanny (or is it weird?) and unheimlich (German for unhomely, although nothing is more at home than spirit of place?) sense of… what is it? I think of the magnetism of Auckland’s west coast beaches, which is very literally there in the iron sands, summoning ghosts… And I look out into the bright dappled light of the Waiheke suburb where I write this and recall the pscyhogeography a friend invoked when we were talking about the special attraction this place holds for certain people, whom it holds in its embrace, whom it doesn’t always love lovingly. Some people can’t stand it after a while! It is as if it magnifies the reasons they have for choosing Waiheke as their place of dwelling. So they dwell but don’t abide, are not abided, perhaps by the spirit of the place. Berlin, too–although Paris may be the city of love, Berlin’s embrace is hotter, erotic, sexual, it has been said.

Christchurch–a flat city recently picked up and shaken like a rug: who can deny the genius presiding over the planes on which it is situated? threaded with braids of rivers… It can drive you mad, like Munich in the föhn. And so the place of a climatics must be granted when considering genius loci, which needn’t be anthropomorphicised, but may initiate a nonanthropological discourse…

Last Monday, May 15, Minus held at AUT its first workshop of 2017. Our last show was At the Stock Market Meeting–called this (always something in a name?) for the neurolivestock invented by Gilles Châtelet for his book (there being always something in a name) To Live and Think Like Pigs and subtitled, The Incitement of Boredom and Envy in Market Democracies, which I had recently read. At the Stock Market Meeting (ATSMM–Automated-Teller (Autotelic? Autosomatic?)-Meat-Machine) took place at Auckland Old Folks Association Hall on 19 November 2016, one night only, since which a full six months has intervened. Present on Monday last were all the people in ATSMM, minus Amber, plus Rumen.

In the writing so far on Minus, I have used pseudonyms for those involved. I break with this practice on the precedent of the RJF Project which, without the pretext, without the context of an academic assignation, assignment or task, I covered in regular posts on Square White World in 2007, where I used first names, and, sometimes, just initials. It is interesting to see in this although decade-old precedent also an invocation of the human stockyard and of anacting (proceeding minus theatre), as well as the dancer‘s critique of an actor (or is it a betrayal?), since the halflife of these, or the imaginary and fantasy life of these, as theses and thetic, overlaps with the concerns formalised in and by the work on and with Minus.

This writing, here on SWW (always square, a lit square, and white light, sunny, artificial, screenlight, separating, sacralising a world the profanation of which it presupposes), is anyway less formal and, surprisingly, less fictive: I don’t need to protect the names, to protest the givenness of names, in the essential contingency of their conventionality, here, from something called–a name!–ethics. I am released from the fiction of ethics here, again, surprisingly. …

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Ἀκαδήμεια
luz es tiempo
theatricality
thigein & conatus
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Thank you Minus Theatre. Your participation & involvement in & support for Minus’s next outing is now sought. Rehearsals begin May 15. Production 26 June. For details of how to help email: simon@minustheatre.com

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lyrics to “Hallelujah Money” by Gorillaz & Benjamin Clementine (courtesy Genius)

[Verse 1: Benjamin Clementine]
Here is our tree
That primitively grows
And when you go to bed
Scarecrows from the far east
Come to eat
Its tender fruits
And I thought the best way to perfect our tree
Is by building walls
Walls like unicorns
In full glory
And galore
And even stronger
Than the walls of Jericho
But glad then my friend
Out in the field we shall reap a better day
What we have always dreamt of having
Are now for the starving
It is love, that is the root of all evil
But not our tree
And thank you my friend
For trusting me

[Hook: Benjamin Clementine (Choir)]
Hallelujah
(Hallelujah)
Hallelujah money
(Past the chemtrails)
Hallelujah money
(Hallelujah money)
Hallelujah money
(Hallelujah money)
Hmmm
Hallelujah money
(Hallelujah)
Hallelujah money
(Oooh)

[Bridge: 2-D]
How will we know?
When the morning comes
We are still human
How will we know?
How will we dream?
How will we love?
How will we know?

[Spoken Verse: Benjamin Clementine]
Don’t worry, my friend
If this be the end, then so shall it be
Until we say so, nothing will move
Ah, don’t worry
It’s not against our morals
It’s legally tender
Touch my friend
While the whole world
And whole beasts of nations desire
Power

[Bridge 2: 2-D]
When the morning comes
We are still human
How will we know?
How will we dream?
How will we love?
How will we know?

[Hook: Benjamin Clementine (Choir)]
(Hallelujah money)
Hallelujah money
(Past the chemtrails)
Hallelujah money
(Hallelujah money)
Hmmm
Hallelujah money
(Hallelujah money)
Hallelujah money
(Oooh)
Hallelujah money
Hallelujah money
Hallelujah
Hallelujah money!

[Outro: Spongebob Squarepants]
(Cries)

 

{from Genius}

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Heiner Müller’s instagram courtesy of n.1edicoes

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anciency
Ἀκαδήμεια
CAPITAL CAPITAL CAPITAL
hommangerie
infemmarie
τραῦμα
National Scandal
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Trans-European Express

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The Moral Left

The political (read: economic) bankruptcy (read: extra-economic) of the Left has made a necessity of virtuousness (read: morality). What used to be the Moral Right (and under Reagan the Moral Majority) has been displaced by the Moral Left: this is everything from LBGT to the Green rights of environmentalists and… exactly where its hem begins to fray is the bruited-about Crisis of Value, in other words Crisis of Middle-Class Values. The rights of the family are of course complicated by families of nonhetero albeit heterogeneous makeup. The rights to property are complicated by rights of access, for example, of copyright to knowledge: all coming under the swelling sphere of the commons.

The point here is: the Left used to be about policy, now it is about a moral stance; while the Right has policy like an iron bar that it cannot pass.

What is hateful in this and disastrous for an oppositional, not to say critical politic, is the caving of the notion of value itself, which is now tethered to the somewhat redundant operation of capital, where so many other options of funding are now so much more readily available and applicable, new venture capitalism and entrepeneurship having become a game for the very wealthy and the very stupid. The question as to whether these are mutually irreducible categories is overtaken by the political bankruptcy and unwillingness of the Left to enter discussions at an intellectual advantage–in case it is accused of Rightwing privilege.

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CAPITAL CAPITAL CAPITAL
croydon

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THEATRE WITHOUT AUDIENCE – THEATER OHNE PUBLIKUM – film by Pawel Kocambasi and Carolin Mader

with Andrzej Wirth, Aleksandra Konieczna, Roma Gasiorowska, Tomasz Tyndyk, Agnieszka Podsiadlik, Robert Wilson, Rafal Mackowiak, René Pollesch, Jan Dravnel, Carol Washburn, Miho Takayasu, Richard Raack, Emma Lew Thomas, Helena Waldmann, Marianne Frisch,Hans-Thies Lehmann, Mandie O’Connell & Thomas Irmer

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Ἀκαδήμεια
hommangerie
imarginaleiro
immedia
infemmarie
luz es tiempo
porte-parole
theatricality
theatrum philosophicum
thigein & conatus
Trans-European Express

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the thing about invisible theatre

dermo

It’s an incredible project: part dance, part secret, part ritual. Heroic in its unsustainability, its unrelenting absence of logic tears like a cannonball through our understanding of the value and meaning of art – why we need it, how (and if) it functions, who it is for.

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pique-assiettes
representationalism
theatricality
theatrum philosophicum

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at the stock market meeting …. tonight, towards this Saturday. Are you coming?

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at the stock market meeting (also, Alex)

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