Let’s put it this way: I have little interest in the position of autonomous authorship that I obviously inhabit, and I have absolutely no interest in making it the subject matter of my writing or even present it as something special. So when I’ve written something that, in the process of writing, I believe I’ve never read anywhere else before, I tend to try and find a section that says the same thing before I did. Then I replace my so-called “own” with the so-called “other”. To me it is more important to place myself within a network of thinking and thought-paths rather than trail after the old-fashioned chimaera called ‘artist’ that propounds one has produced something unique and new. Which means that I prefer the quoted text to “my own” but I make a bow towards the sources by stating more than once where they do come from. The quoted idea may come up again about 40 pages later, this time without any hint towards the source, but that’s because I rely on the readers to notice “Ah, here we’ve got someone like Hubert Fichte or Jack Smith again. But they were introduced some time before.” I do not really use quotation marks. Simply because I do not believe in the enclosed autonomy of the Other. I regard that as open as anything else. That’s why I follow a form of writing that was propagated by feminists such as Hélène Cixous, who describes feminine text as openly accessible from the top and the bottom, from both sides, from the front and the back. – Direction Artiste – Appendix – A Conversation with Thomas Meinecke, David Lieske at Lovaas Munich, November 16, 2017 – December 16, 2017

I define the archive as a “para-institution.” And this relates to the fact that I conceive the archive as an artistic instrument of self-historicising (which in many cases blends with the artwork itself). The para-institution of the artist’s archive was designed for recording, presenting and diffusing ephemeral, often subversive activities, and it produced autonomous contexts. Artists’ archives often reflect on how the ideological apparatuses manipulate everyday life, moreover they inscribe the artwork in history from the artist’s standpoint. That does not only mean that they put the artwork in circulation and communicate it within a limited circle of kindred spirits. Frequently the artist’s archive has a further role, involving an attempt to control the reception of the work in the local and international setting. Such an approach takes a number of levels of comparative research into account. Work at the varying levels of textual or pictorial documents demands a re-evaluation of the relationship of original and copy and must reflect the documents’ modes of production and reproduction, and must also take into account their unique, unrepeatable arrangement in the artist’s archive. One cannot reduce the artist’s archive exclusively to purposes of communication. With the deliberate multiplication and diffusion of documents, things come to a point where archival practices break free from the instrumentalisation, reification and commodification of the artwork. – Daniel Grúň, Monument to a Heroine. Július Koller’s Archive and Processes of Self-Historicisation, September 2017

If I close my eyes at any point during the day, under any circumstance, I can clearly visualise images that have been etched into my memory. Sometimes they are important ones that bring comfort, that are capable of transporting us to a moment in our lives that makes us feel safe. I like to think of them as a sort of vital pedestal; a base to lean on for support in order to carry on walking. – Juan Canela, Walking with Images, August 2017

Silvia Federici. Undeclared War: Violence Against Women

The author must give up on aping genius. Rather show the author as ape, the author as idiot. Don’t have the hubris of being the comedian. You are the straight man in this farce; the universe is the funny man. So don’t be silly, cute, crack jokes, or play coy, but allow hilarity, a cleansing painful laughter that splits your sides and your heart. Follow your own foolishness like tracks upon the sand. – Lars Iyer, Nude in your hot tub, facing the abyss (a literary manifesto after the end of literature and manifestos), The White Review , November 2011

Thomas Nagel. What is it like to be a bat?

Seth Price. Redistribution

After Kathy Acker, Chris Kraus, The MIT Press, July 2017 https://mitpress.mit.edu/books/after-kathy-acker

Louise Lawler. Prominence Given, Authority Taken

It’s interesting, for instance, how charcoal becomes trendy today in organic and well-being food, even if it’s been fucking up generations of miner’s lungs. Some use it as a natural way to ease stomach pain and bad digestion. I prefer its vomiting effects: it’s used as an emergency treatment for certain kinds of severe poisoning and OD’s. I like that it’s presented here in the shape of a large, family-size bread we could eat of all together, while expelling all the possible mad-driving toxins. The idea of letting go, of fluidity, of opening the valves, a joyful communal diarrhea prompted me to ask the baker how we could form a sort of orifice in the bread. He folded his arm and pushed his elbow far in the middle of the fresh dough. – The Future of Not Working, Aline Bouvy in conversation with Louise Osieka, June 5, 2017

The power of capital rests on that fiction of a present engendered by art; it is not least thanks to art that capital has become autonomous vis-à-vis politics and production. And the manifest product of this autonomy is the total aestheticization of life, politics, and (philosophical) thinking. It is in response to this aestheticization that we urgently need to consider (poetic) alternatives. – The Speculative End Of The Aesthetic Regime, Armen Avanessian, Texte Zur Kunst, Issue No. 93 / March 2014 „speculation“

Cady Noland

Seth Price. Wrong Seeing, Odd Thinking, Strange Action

wfw weekend #400

One form of resistance is to go dark, to stop making artwork that can in any way be represented on the platforms that facilitate these forms of recuperation. But even if you as an artist don’t post images of your work on social media, other people might. You could institute a Berghain rule and administer stickers over phone’s camera lenses upon entering an exhibition, but then, hashtags are indexable forms of language that don’t require images and are still a useful metric for brands. You could literally never show your work to anyone. You could embrace chaos and illegibility, creating visual or written work that is non-instrumentalizable, but legible across many parts over a longer period of time. This might mean making work that operates at a different tempo than that of branding and social media, work that occupies multiple sites and forms, work that fights for the complexity of identity (as artist or otherwise) and form, and believes in a creaturely capacity for patience with a maximum dedication to understanding. – Dena Yago, on Ketamine and Added Value, e-flux, May 2017