textatics

Mirowski & Neoliberal thought collective & faith

Let’s move the conversation beyond power. This is what Foucault was doing in his final seminars (see particularly 13/13 The Courage of Truth, 1983-84). As described by economic historian Philip Mirowski, the neoliberal thought collective, that is the Mont Pèlerin Society, is not about securing or maintaining élites in power, either in political power or in economic power, or in view of the field now addressed in terms of a political economy.

As Mirowski, following Foucault, makes clear, the agenda is truth. The conversation we might be having is not about power and its exercise within the political economy post-truth, given the bruited collapse of veridification, which has been for some time now the demesne of media–both sounding off on the collapse of knowledge and information, of knowledge into information and data, and therefore the levelling of information with disinformation (with which goes the task of the expert, the knowledge worker and scientist as a data gatherer, noncommentator, nonsyncretiser, empirically distanced and politically-economically disinterested), both this and under media control within the production of media as the producers in the knowledge market, of political economy. The conversation might now move to a post-power conception of truth, where knowledge is power.

Power-knowledge performs as its own supplement. It supplements itself. This is its production as fetish, a question both of currency and value. It is also the reason for the investment of the richest and most powerful corporations in what is called Big Data, since it is called Big Data to hide the fact that it is nonsummative: enumerable data, innumerable data, but not one big datum rather the prospect of infinite growth in the production of data. Knowledge in a post-power dispensation is an economic unit. So that thing called immaterial labour by Hardt and Negri is always for the sake of an idea, the truth not of capital itself–the labour theory of value is hardly sufficient here–but the capital of truth itself.

The truth and the lie of the immaterial labourer are equally available to media to be promulgated, published, fetishised, as they are, since it is the market that will make the ultimate selection for the sake of the idea of truth. The knowledge worker, the scientist, the expert researcher, all are freer than ever before. They are like artists and just as powerless, just as powerless as the powerful.

Who rises to challenge the market as the arbiter of truth post-power? …and it could be said it is in this sense that we are now postmodern: gone is the tortured, fractured and fragmented art of power; welcome the unified, global and free art of truth, a truth beyond the grasp of any individual, ineffable, belonging to the political economy, a belief secured and maintained on its idea.

 

...
Ἀκαδήμεια
CAPITAL CAPITAL CAPITAL
textasies
textatics

Comments (0)

Permalink

I look through my email as if I will find there a message that is meant for me

lessons from other cultures

not a political record

people of no consequence

losing their spiritual home

pompous, alienating architecture

of your life | otherwise

one-dimensional kiss-offs, songs

of regret, an internal record, a

universalised diary, an

exorcism, fire

in no way

diminishing

myriad inequalities

phobias | hatreds

your order

will arrive killing

slowly

everyone, it is not

a conspiracy,

but an affecting

truth

seen too late

can’t feel happiness

maybe we can

textatics

Comments (0)

Permalink

“are you stuck in an endless you-loop?”

and you don’t know if Trump is good or bad?

and you know don’t know if Trump winning the US election is good or bad?

and you don’t know if Trump winning the US election is about a xenophobic, racist, misogynist gaining unlimited power or a clown with limited power?

and you don’t know if Trump as president will bring economic justice, whatever that is, perhaps in the form of reintroducing the Glass-Steagall Act, or will be an instrument for personal self-aggrandisement without further political, social, economic ramification?

and you don’t know if the real conspiracy is stupidity or the real threat that the nuclear arsenal will finally be deployed?

and you don’t know if the real conspiracy has puppet-masters in the Clintons who have made the deal to bring down the Grand Old Party or is the stupid conspiracy in which you are duped into saying something is real that you don’t really feel?

and you don’t know if you just want to hear your voice return to you like the echo of a human microphone or if you do have a strong opinion to share with all the people who think as you do?

and you don’t know if trust is the word since you have no higher expectation of those you support who live in the public eye than you do of yourself?

and you don’t know if Hillary Clinton was the right candidate for the times because of her gender, her agenda, or her proximity to the half-life of an ex-president?

and you don’t know if the acceptable face of corruption is preferable to the unacceptable, the ugly face of what we all know is true, but agree not to speak of?

and you don’t know if politics is for you because it adds no joy to the world or if your outrage at injustice is in the end more significant than whatever you may think about politics?

(and the future is the accumulation of regret for that which has not yet happened but will)

enomy
τραῦμα
textatics

Comments (0)

Permalink

Ah subo – cunto dura

Ah subo

Crown margins located sub-, at or supra-gingivally.

Márgenes de la corona situados subo supra-gingivalmente.

If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.

Si subo a los cielos, allí estás tú; si en el Seol hago mi cama, allí tú estás

There’s a call, I see that the small blind to my left is preparing the big guns and I re-raise to 1500.

Alguien iguala, observo que la ciega pequeña de mi izquierda está preparando su artillería pesada por lo que subo de nuevo a 1.500.

Jesus saith unto her, Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father: but go to my brethren, and say unto them, I ascend unto my Father, and your Father; and to my God, and your God.

Jesús le dijo: –Suéltame, porque aún no he subido al Padre. Pero ve a mis hermanos y diles: “Yo subo a mi Padre y a vuestro Padre, a mi Dios y a vuestro Dios.

Suddenly the big blind 44 and after three calls, I re-raise 4 blinds, two follow me, the flop shows multicolor K 7 8, I make a continuation Belt, split pot, and the turn offers my trio.

De repente, ciega grande 44 y después veo tres apuestas, subo de nuevo 4 ciegas, dos me siguen, el flop muestra los multicolores K 7 8, continuo apostando, se reparte el bote, y el turn ofrece mi trío.

Manilkara bidentata

Ah subo

textatics

Comments (0)

Permalink

Enrique Vila-Matas, Pierre Huyghe, Ai Weiwei and I at Kassel, Documentas 12-13

“I’d been fascinated at the beginning of the seventies by some questions that had been put to Alain Robbe-Grillet, which made him writhe against theories like an upside-down cat: “Let’s say I’m old-fashioned. For me, all that counts are the works of art.”

“The works of art! These days such ingenuousness would trigger laughter. At Documenta 13, separating work and theory would have been seen as very old-fashioned, because there, according to all the information I had, you saw a great many works under the ambiguous umbrella of innovation presented as theory and vice versa. It was the triumphant and now almost definitive reign of the marriage between practice and theory, to such an extent that if ou casually came across a rather classical-looking piece, you’d soon discover it was nothing more than theory camouflaged as a work. Or a work camouflaged as theory.

“Was there any artist at Kassel with sufficient courage to just hang a painting on the wall, a straighforward painting? I imagined the great peals of laughter that would ring out if it occurred to some poor brave devil to hang a canvas on a wall in the Fridericianum. It seemed nobody there wanted to be regarded as terribly old-fashioned, so there was no way of seeing painting anywhere.”

– Enrique Vila-Matas, The Illogic of Kassel, p. 69

Untilled, characters who appear in Enrique Vila-Matas’s novel, by Pierre Huyghe at Documenta 13

Strangely, I happened to be involved in the Documenta 12 Magazine Project through <<empyre>> soft_skinned_space, a listserv onto which I have foisted my sometimes welcome, mostly unwelcome, and usually ignored observations, reflections and scribblage.

The following I wrote into the listserv under the subject heading of “Fugue” – which is interesting in so far as I have in front of me a volume by Sergio Pitol with a foreword by Enrique Vila-Matas, the writer of the foregoing on Documenta 13, entitled The Art of Flight. The English translator of this work, George Henson, apologises, that “already in the title” he has failed, because the Spanish fuga translates as both fugue and flight and in the original Spanish, the book is called El arte de la fuga. The Art of Fugue. Indirectly, for Documenta 12, I wrote:

Dear Empyreans,

the following I pursued for my own interest: I apologise if there’s nothing in it.

Roger Beurgel [artistic director of Documenta 12. It was Roger Beurgel’s “provocation”, on the question, Is Modernity our Antiquity? that led the discussion, here] in quotes:

“It is fairly obvious that modernity, or modernity’s fate, exerts a profound influence on contemporary artists.”

How is modernity tied to its fate that, either the thing itself or the myth, exerts a pull – as if equally and interchangeably? And if there isn’t anything in itself there? Only the mythic Fate, then isn’t this a description of tragedy? Is a degree of that influence to do with the desire not just to reinstaurate the determinism or fatalism of modernity on its certain path but to redeem it?

“Part of that attraction may stem from the fact that no one really knows if modernity is dead or alive.”

Which suggests exactly the spectral/corp(u)s/e mode modernity was so good at advancing: and pomo was so good at extracting – half-life apparitions and death-drive amortisations.

“It seems to be in ruins after the totalitarian catastrophes of the 20th century (the very same catastrophes to which it somehow gave rise).”

Surely, that ‘somehow’, tenuously holding on, like spectral rider to ghoulish horse, confirms that the modernity described here is in the grand European tragic style – or pomo pastiche thereof. The taste for setting such great store by aesthetics (however deeply internally politicised or outwardly conceptual and dematerialised), that ‘totalitarian catastrophes’ ensue from them, is modernist at the fascist end of the spectrum.

“It seems utterly compromised by the brutally partial application of its universal demands (liberté, égalité, fraternité) or by the simple fact that modernity and coloniality went, and probably still go, hand in hand.”

As a colonial antipode – foot in hand, sometimes in mouth – I’ve thought a little about colonialism’s place in respect of modernity. My view, from NZ, of modernity is only historically, not ‘utterly,’ ‘compromised’ by the cultural marginalisation that goes hand-in-hand with modernity’s centralist concerns. But this issue brings us round to whether modernity has a political armature in praxis, a Realpolitik, such that it could be ‘brutally partial’ in the application of demands that are by no means ‘universal’ nor endemic to modernity, as an era (or a constellation, an infirmament, of historically informed assumptions and happenstance).

The secular nation-state, to my mind, better expresses the political ideas and ideals of the modern era, and of modernity, than the Colonial Empire. The failure of the former – in its current crisis or decadence – offers perhaps a clearer index to the vivacity or morbidity of a political modernity.

“Still, people’s imaginations are full of modernity’s visions and forms (and I mean not only Bauhaus but also arch-modernist mind-sets transformed into contemporary catchwords like “identity” or “culture”).”

There is something about this ‘transformation’ (of ‘arch-modernist mindsets’) that merits discussion. I think it was Brett, forgive me if I’m wrong, who said that postmodernism is built on the foundations of modernism. Christine has poked a little, deservedly, at the idea of Hegelian synthesis, in the n-state. In both views there inheres the idea of transformation – a redemption even of modernist assumptions. I think this archaeological impulse, this restorative ‘moral’ and critical project – such, indeed, that the question heading this discussion can be asked – may be promoted by precisely the kind of spectacular mise-en-scene we see in Roger Beurgel’s statement on modernity.

“In short, it seems that we are both outside and inside modernity, both repelled by its deadly violence and seduced by its most immodest aspiration or potential: that there might, after all, be a common planetary horizon for all the living and the dead.”

Pa Ubu: “Hornstrumpet! We shall not have succeeded in demolishing everything unless we demolish the ruins as well. But the only way I can see of doing that is to use them to put up a lot of fine, well-designed buildings.”

Finally, a brief word regarding the n-state, an idea with its own fascination; and I’d like to know more about its provenance; since, as well as zipping up a certain bodybag – synthetic teeth mesh – it also iterates management/bureaucratic themes of ‘technological progress and infrastructural improvements’. (By way of contrast, inspired by a Polish grandmother on a European train, ’82, I chanced on the related idea of ‘n-set’ – a play on ‘NZ’ and also an acronym. The grandmother said that all her countrymen were doing in those days was watching satellite TV and making babies – “like Africa!” she said.

(N-SET became a script-scenario dealing with a covert (insurgence) operation starting in Poland to postmodernise via media’s softsell immersion the East and West and foment political revolution: to postmediatise consciousness. N-SET stands for ‘non-specified enemy territory’ – carrying forward its scenario through random acts of state-sponsored terror, according to the view that the civilian population as a whole is the only object on which a postmodern war can be waged.)

Simon Taylor

Fairytale, 1,001 chairs, Ai Weiwei, at Documenta 12

...
anciency
Ἀκαδήμεια
hommangerie
inanimadvertisement
infemmarie
τραῦμα
N-exile
National Scandal
on tour
pique-assiettes
porte-parole
textasies
textatics
Trans-European Express
X

Comments (0)

Permalink

Domestic 6.

the goddess to save humanity from sterility and extinction.
Carol Brady hits the dance floor.
The SCN sends information to other hypothalamic nuclei and the open shell of the body.
Rooney has the thought, the stronger the thought becomes.
The suprachiasmatic nucleus (SCN) is a nucleus (an aggregation of all forms of media).
Along the way Jarrett had received the same mustard but it gets in on time and so does his blitz recognition.
“they use words like ‘religious restrictions,'” said Ibrahim el-Houdaiby, a researcher of beauty, tearing apart the confidence of women all over.
Goldman Sach’s investment arm along with other US investors like Technology Crossover Ventures were in the fray evaluating the transaction.
Solo success quickly followed as Dave scored the Christmas Number 1 in 1970,
bands including Queen, Oasis, Motorhead, the Stone Roses and Stereophonic.
My the way we mask that the person believe he/she must be!
So any disagreeable thoughts, that pop into one develop and honor your natural instincts.
I can portion out fruits and veggies into a valid license in order to operate outside boundaries.

They are perfect for many emergencies such as blackouts.
These further the rights and liberty of the people,
it can also very easily cause the violation.

textatics

Comments (0)

Permalink

Copenhagen, 3 – 4 July, featuring Bron Broen & graduate works from the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts

DSC_0183-1 DSC_0187 DSC_0188 DSC_0189 DSC_0190 DSC_0194 DSC_0195 DSC_0197 DSC_0198 DSC_0200 DSC_0201 DSC_0203 DSC_0207 DSC_0209 DSC_0210 DSC_0211 DSC_0212 DSC_0213 DSC_0208 DSC_0215 DSC_0216 DSC_0218 DSC_0219-1 DSC_0221-1 DSC_0223-1 DSC_0224 DSC_0217 DSC_0222 DSC_0225 DSC_0227 DSC_0228 DSC_0229 DSC_0231 DSC_0232 DSC_0233 DSC_0234 DSC_0235 DSC_0237 DSC_0238 DSC_0239 DSC_0242 DSC_0244 DSC_0246 DSC_0250 DSC_0251 DSC_0253 DSC_0254 DSC_0255 DSC_0256 DSC_0257 DSC_0258 DSC_0260 DSC_0261 DSC_0262 DSC_0263 DSC_0259 DSC_0264 DSC_0267 DSC_0270 DSC_0271 DSC_0272 DSC_0273 DSC_0275 DSC_0276 DSC_0277 DSC_0279 DSC_0280 DSC_0278 DSC_0281 DSC_0283 DSC_0284 DSC_0285 DSC_0286 DSC_0287 DSC_0288 DSC_0289

...
immedia
on tour
tagged
textatics
Trans-European Express

Comments (0)

Permalink

Re: grouping – Minus Theatre’s change of phase, AGM & 3rd Project

following an earlier post, here, for a hopeful workshop, which was cancelled, Minus Theatre’s weekly workshops were cancelled, not just this hopeful one, until the group of past and future members came together, Tuesday 18 November to talk about our 3rd Project – for the Auckland Fringe Festival, February 11 – 1 March 2015. You were invited to attend, email info@minustheatre.com … and some of you did. Thank you.

This means a change in the way we work. There now appears to be a goal, the performances coinciding with the Fringe, and a requirement for regular practice/workshop/rehearsal sessions leading up to it. But it is this not so much. What we present for the Fringe will be a work in progress and not the end result of adequate planning. The planning we need to engage in at this point does entail a change in methodology but from the point of view of epistemology.

Weekly workshops have been central to the methodology of Minus Theatre Research Group until now. The method we have developed since March this year, called ‘theatre of the individual life’, allows for a minimum workshop attendance of one. One person – it could be me! It could be me closely observing and analysing my own physical and verbal expressions, to be able to dis-organise these ‘symptoms’ (in contrast to ‘signs’ which have meaning) in the place of my body, in the space of the studio, in the time of the audience – an audience of one, too, me!

In practice, this has never happened. Although the option was given, when we had only a few participants, of whether to go ahead or chat, eat cake and drink coffee and tea, the smallest groups for the workshops were a minimum of three, including me. And sometimes even a larger group chose cake over theatre, which is hardly surprising, given the beautiful home baking. (The coffee’s not bad, either: an incentive for potential Minus Theatre members!)

After Textured Passages, September 8, 12, it was more usual for the several people who came to workshops, still then being held on a weekly basis, to want to sit and chat – the exception became the rule. I asked myself why, given a method which determinedly does not make a precondition of the whole group turning up – a source of frustration when running rehearsals with a set cast in the past – why should we not conduct the workshop with the one person, the two people who do turn up?

Two possible answers occurred to me: a lackadaisical attitude brought about by familiarity and regularity – if the workshops are going to be held anyway, does the individual feel needed enough to come along? In addition, Textured Passages was a massive undertaking with relatively little preparation. We incorporated musical resources, used costumes – albeit schematic and generic; we took on a difficult space, a gallery, where audiences were unsure what was expected of them; and so we had the pressure of somewhat diffident, sometimes uncomprehending, although almost universally appreciative audiences. A second answer, beyond the known-quantity-ness of the practice and the hangover of the shows, slowly crept up on me: something to do with the group dynamic itself is affecting individual behaviour. Whenever just a few people came to workshops their first question was always, who else is coming? Where’s so-and-so? Where’s she? Where in fact is the group when the individual is here?

I was reluctant to admit it but despite the method needing only one individual to engage the practice the individuals need the group. Why? There is a possibility that this is a matter of group identity or group dynamic, but these are ongoing processes: the group is not a closed product; it is always in the process of formation, and re-formation, as members leave, return, and new people join. What is it about this process, then, that made each member want all present to move forward with the practice?

I now think it has to do primarily with an epistemological shift, which might be summarised in the notion of the embodied knowledge of the group in Minus Theatre. I had, previous to October, not thought that if a kind of thought is going on in the practice and I had not known that if a kind of knowledge (ethological) is being produced in the technique where that thought and knowledge would go to, to be called on, or recalled, in its advance, in its recollection, in practice. It seems to be clear now that where it was at, over this intervening time, and where it is, is in the bodies of the people in the group. The resistance to going ahead on a weekly basis comes from the situation where the whole group is not present at the workshops contributing their thought-knowledge which each individual embodies.

Weekly workshops through October therefore took two steps back for every step forward. This is why in getting together, assembling, on Tuesday night, 18 November, to be assembled as a formation, forming a group, a minimal cell or corps, we were re-membering – becoming avant-garde – re-membered. Disorganisation may come hereafter.

As events go, in the event, Minus Theatre’s first AGM was a raging, encouraging success. However I got to say none of the things I have outlined above. And what is worse, I did not get to congratulate every person in this group for having got it this far to do what it has done. White Flower established that we have indeed developed a theatrical form all our own, as one audience member put it, which works. Textured Passages was like a human particle accelerator, that, several audience members claimed, gave off a spiralling energy drawing them in, energising them and cleaning their brains.

The following contains repeats but it is something like what I had hoped to say: Welcome! Thank you for coming! I called this meeting because Minus Theatre is changing phase. The change of phase comes because the knowledge we have acquired along the way and the thinking going on – and a lot does go on all the time in our work – is in the group. It is not written down. It is not in my PhD research. So that to bring it to new work, to progress and go further means we need to be a group, meeting regularly, committed to extending both ourselves in our technique and understanding and the group.

Earlier Minus Theatre was about teaching and training. I think it has taken on a life of its own. This still means new people are more than welcome and that we will be doing workshops involving learning and teaching. But the group overall will have more responsibility. In other words, it is not just me who has the knowledge and knows the technique – the unique theatrical language of Minus Theatre that includes all the languages spoken and the technique that includes all the different skills each person brings – it is the group.

Part of what we do will continue to find out what special skills, what powers, each individual, each person has that makes our work together more interesting and exciting and intense.

The next project is called Boneseed

We decided to meet on Tuesday evenings, from 6pm to 9pm at AUT. Again, if you are interested in joining, adding your powers, learning more or supporting us, please contact me here.

Minus Theatre is here – and developing an independent website, the forerunner of which is here.

...
Ἀκαδήμεια
textatics
theatricality
thigein & conatus
X

Comments (0)

Permalink

God answers neoliberal mess

Rumours of his death were found to be exaggerations. Oscar Wilde. God bless us all and. Rumours of His death were found to be exaggerations. God. Oscar Wilde bless us all and all art is quite useless, except to name God. Who answers mess but – Oscar Wilde. God: Mess. So what’s the problem? No problem. No future. No present. And health is hard to come by since it became a commodity. No past. The past is unhealthy. The future is death. The present can’t decide: but whatever, it’s too expensive.

 

 

The Age of Illness. Or the Age of Psychosis. Can’t find a break, a crack where the break happened that let the light in. Is the light in? Can I finally close the door?

 

 

The Age of Illness to which something must endlessly be added, the addition of which must, according to the economic imperatives of the day, the free market imperative, be a market; that is, it must first be industrialised. Drugs must be manufactured. Doctors must be manufactured. Nurses must be tooled. The process must occur on a large scale. The scale must threaten the biosphere to sustain; the image must change to self-organisation: the market must be imagined as self-organising – or ecological. The process must now be ecological. The ecology of human health must now threaten the biosphere – but it must at all costs be sustained, since there must be sustainable health; the health industry of drugs, doctors and nurses must be sustainable. So it must be imagined as self-organised as a market. But the market must threaten the biosphere. There must be pathology. First there must be a pathology of the individual. Second there must be a pathology of the collective who belong to an epoch. The Age of Illness. Where health is not a given but the demand for doctors, drugs and nurses in no particular order is a given.

 

 

The psychosis takes hold in the middle of the process. It makes a solid and artificial structure out of the natural ecology of naturally occurring self-organising industrial health as a market, the agents of which are doctors and nurses and the capital of which is drugs. Now we can understand drugs as capital so therefore we can understand that a good outcome is measurable in terms of good health and well being. Well beings. But we must be presumed to be ill before we can be fixed and the fixing must be a psychotic reaction.

 

 

The market therefore mediates between illness and health in a way that sustains psychosis. Another name for this psychosis is the internet of things or object-orientated ontology – its parody in philosophical terms. The other name for either of these is the absence of any problem which is otherwise understood as the mess.

 

 

Object-orientated ontology holds that objects withdraw from us as soon as we get close – the internet of things holds that objects communicate with the internet and so truly they do have a virtual half. The real half withdraws, comedically. The mess has it that we can’t identify a problem because the problem is immanent, a fact of dwelling within it.

 

 

What if the answer to the mess were God? This is something fundamentalists should know something about. What if neoliberalism’s pretension to being atheistic and freeing us from the illusion of theism is simply an excuse for its perpetuation of health as God in which it mediates, opening a direct line, a hardwire from the ill body to the market-readied mind, weakened by the body’s illness, abrogating its sense of world to the medicalised nature of knowledge, open only to psychosis. General. All over. Like a system of the world.

 

textatics

Comments (0)

Permalink

field recordings 2013:09:08 17:12:46 – 2013:10:19 14:22:30

Riverhead at the end filled me with a sense of anomie. But not quite. The ugliness of it truly sub urban, and the ugliness of its continuation through developments designed in batches – designed for the market rather than for people to live in, resting on scarifications of an architectural scale and quality: the true architecture of landscape despoliation. And the sound of machines. And trees falling with a vicious crack echoing in the brown armpit of the valley, almost encircled by the eponymous river. And hee-hawing or strafing of men aggressively laughing. The neighbour.

You know, I think of that song lyric – “when I was dead / in Riverhead” – and a corner of sentiment sneaks in. Because Riverhead gave us a lifestyle – and something to hate, which as the Italians are said to say is as important as having something, or someone, to love. So that revisiting these images, there is a strength of purpose in the capture of them – real feeling – which is unlikely to be recaptured in the same way. Somehow John Campbell’s marvelous mouth shining like a solar anus fits – the crack that the light gets in, it really does. Get in.

Riverhead topographically is dominated by the rugby fields. Field recording are also felt. The grounds glowing nightly Soylent green under floodlights. Floodlights that were horrendously expensive to put in and are equally expensive to run. No expense spared. And in the mist maybe a kid is practicing his dodges, duck, dive, and a grown man is stretching his hammies.

Riverhead. Years ago submissions were being solicited – pre-Draft Unitary Plan – for the future development of the town. We all put together some ideas. Dad drew some pictures. We were not optimistic. But down at the 100 year-old hall it was a chance to meet some more locals. Talk about what others envisaged as a vision for the place. Like Auckland itself – which it in fact precedes as the initially projected site for the city – the town turns its back on its natural asset: the river. In Auckland’s case, this is of course the harbour. Was every watery space somehow associated in the colonist planner’s mind with an open sewer? Anyway, the plan we presented was to turn the town to face the river, opening up public walkways along its looping length with shops and eateries and a riverside culture.

It therefore whispers the words ‘another missed opportunity‘ when I see the suburbs tumescent breaking through the skin of the historic town: the dormitory vision of a sleeping skirt for citizens to cling in to. Waiting for their own cancers. Because there has been a slew of cancers recently in the nor’west of Auckland, centring on Kumeu, Huapai, Riverhead. The doctors at the medical centre talk about it.

Anomie. And a sadness that if not altogether sweet is not altogether painful.

CAPITAL CAPITAL CAPITAL
enomy
National Scandal
porte-parole
snap
sweeseed
tagged
textatics
X

Comments (0)

Permalink