I’m very different to this. No matter where I look I’m very different to
what I read. I want the institutions that I hate to have a home. Even if
it’s just to rib them until they pay me off. The discursive economies of
criticism and art have constituted themselves as a single bloc of economy /
to the libidinal economy.
I want to counter guerilla-style not from the trenches, not from the entrenched
positions of the counterculture… with its venerable critical armature
still largely left intact… like a ghost limb after the amputation of the
I want to be heard from the outside, an unfortunate Artaudian/Antipodean. My
embodied practice is not itself at risk but I am at risk because of it. I
applaud the voice raised from the outside even when it’s Ralston Saul’s!
Chomsky/Foucault’s … as a unifiable dialectical position as a complex
I betray the fetishism of art at every turn; I give paranoia back to the
psychosis of its atavism – I milk it: it still flows.
I make art bad and bad art: I respect ideology insofar as it rewards me with
its dogged refusal to admit purity; I disarm its political ligatures through
producing nothing useful.
I hate the community because like society it does not exist. I put new media
on trial because new media disinform the fulfilment of an enantiomorphosis;
because they muddy the name of the blameable with the possibility of a
complete erasure of the name.
Therein the necropolis will be built as the worldwide web. I flip the bit on
its lack of constancy as a dread of semiosis and the concomitant paralysis
inside every meaningful articulation as signifiance.
I reject Socrates’ machine in Plato, his restrictions on metaphor, and
Aristotle’s injunction against unnecessary multiplication of characters –
against metonymy. I multiply you. I am because you are.