— New America NYC (@NewAmericaNYC) November 20, 2015
So excited to be visiting my friends and colleagues at Southern University’s Law Center soon. On Wednesday, November 4, I’ll deliver a lecture there on the interaction of technological flux in social media and simulation technologies on the one hand, and publicity rights of athletes from marginalized communities on the other. This talk builds on some of the concepts I’ve tried to work through at the intersection of celebrity political figures (especially President Obama), IP and science fiction (i.e., the concept of artificial immanence).
Hope to see you in Baton Rouge.
I’m looking forward to giving two talks in Detroit on Halloween. The first takes place at 10a at the legendary community letter press Signal Return, and will cover ways to fund art practices through collaboration on National Science Foundation grants. The second performance will happen at MOCAD‘s Mike Kelley Mobile Homestead at 1p. There I’ll describe the In’s and Out’s of Detroit’s amazing and under-used 0% Interest Home Repair Loan Program.
Please join me for one or both if you’re in town. Feel free to contact me directly, too, if you have questions about either event’s subject.
(A reposting of a HuffPo article that may be timely again)
One of the most striking works held in the Detroit Institute of Arts’ formidable collection is Caravaggio’s Martha and Mary Magdalene (c. 1598). A grand example of the artist’s chiaroscuro style of intensely contrasted regions of darkness and light, the painting depicts a virtuous Martha’s strenuous efforts to convince Mary to turn away from her libertine lifestyle and to embrace piety. The painting’s classic religious conversion story roughly parallels the trajectory of the painter’s art historical assessment. Brilliant but badly troubled, Caravaggio garnered fame in Rome, quickly and flamboyantly, died violently at age 38, and, despite having produced numerous commissioned works for rich patrons throughout Italy, disappeared from the radars of art historians and critics for three centuries and change. Not until the early 20th century would he be reborn through rediscovery.
Juxtaposing Caravaggio’s reputational rebirth and Mary’s spiritual rebirth makes for an intensified viewing. The one resonates with the other, amplifying the painting’s punch. Alongside this aesthetic value, Martha and Mary Magdalenecan also yield a strategic value to the city it calls home. Detroit, like Mary, has an opportunity to undergo a dramatic, and quite literal, renaissance.
As Detroit’s bankruptcy proceedings continue to unfold, once again some creditors and commentators are arguing that the city should sell off the DIA’s art collection to pay off the city’s creditors, among whom are thousands of retired city workers. The pro-liquidators would have the pensioners vote against a federally mediatedGrand Bargain that is designed to cushion the blow to their benefits plans and prevent a sell-off of DIA art. Symbolically and politically, the fate of the Caravaggio and all the other works held under the DIA’s stewardship, hinge on the outcome of a stark choice confronting the city. Shall the city become a post-bankruptcy exemplar of municipal resilience and transformation, or a poster-child for new experimental forms of what some refer to as disaster capitalism? This is the fundamental question the pensioners’ vote will answer. Ultimately, if Detroit’s aim is rebirth, the city will have to vigorously rebut the shortsighted reasoning of some of its creditors, and instead implement a long-term urban design strategy that foregrounds the city’s art, and, in particular, the DIA.
Choosing to become an art center is often considered largely a matter of gathering a critical mass of artists and institutions that train, nurture, employ and showcase them. But it is equally accurate, and arguably more important, to see the decision as a commitment to investing in two types of problems.
The first problem type concerns all the controversial and at times scandalous matters of art forgery and authentication, piracy, repatriation battles, and perennially present appetency –the early modern Caravaggio and his wealthy Roman patrons knew it then, just as the present-day Gagosians and Poly Auctionsdo now– of art to serve as an emblem of the ultra-rich, an adornment like a Sneetch’s belly star, and nothing more. But these are, ironically, good problems for cities to have. They entangle a gaggle of debated viewpoints that hem together strains of ethics, law, cultural criticism, the humanities, and, crucial in the context of bankruptcy, assessments of one of capitalism’s most stupefying exercises in excess–the apparently upper-limitless valuations attached to high art objects.
These are the problems of Paris, Los Angeles, Hong Kong, Toronto, New York. These are the problems of vital, culturally wealthy cities. Infusing the discussions within and about Detroit with them will not rid the city of its more tangible woes. But it is inevitable that the infusion would place the city in good discursive company. An additional salutary by-product? A bold choice on Detroit’s part would likely inspire other cities to not go quietly into an artless night. The DIA has come to occupy so central a role in the bankruptcy proceeding that its fate has political consequences not only locally and regionally, but as well globally. Other financially distressed cities are looking on, particularly in Europe.
Keeping the DIA’s collection and choosing to aim for global relevance also means embracing a fundamental problem of our fractured, frenetic age: rampant meaninglessness facing so many in a world whose degrees of risk, opacity, hardness, and sheer velocity outstrip most scales. Ambitious museums and radical architectural forms can serve as secular Meccas for those who live in their vicinity, certainly; but, as importantly, institutions like the DIA also function as planetary way-stations for pilgrims worm-holing through international airports from city to city, many looking to understand their planet-roaming as something more meaningful than even their most transactionally meticulous spreadsheet would indicate.
Can a solitary DIA pull off this existential task? Within the context of the other material links working like so much connective tissue to anchor Detroit in the flows of people, money, goods and ideas streaming between the world’s cultural hubs — its International Airport, its culture industry, the research universities, the daily examples of resiliency that its residents perform — we should believe so.
Critics have argued that since Caravaggio likely used courtesans as models forMartha and Mary Magdalene that the conversion story is undermined. But against the backdrop of the momentous decision Detroiters are mulling, a better interpretation might read Caravaggio’s choice as indicative of the crucial roles that real people –the workers, mothers, teachers, retirees, the destitute, the children, and even the criminals of Detroit– play in this metropolitan drama, and the power of great art to illuminate the direct connections between real peoples’ lives and questions of massive personal, political and societal consequence. Everyone in the city is confronted with the choice of Detroit’s possible futures. And each one will bear its consequences.
Detroit’s best option, as with Mary Magdalene, is conversion: civic rebirth.Speramus meliora; resurget cineribus (“We hope for better things; it will arise from the ashes”) is the city’s motto, after all. It should also be the key to Detroit’s vision of the future.
In the wake of Judge Rhodes’ ruling on Detroit’s eligibility for bankruptcy, it would culturally criminal and financial silly for the artworks of the Detroit Institute of Arts to be sold off to pay back the city’s creditors.
I was present for the ruling yesterday. Talking with union legal counsel, courtroom artists, marshals, press, interested Detroiters–it was a mind-rocking experience. To clear my head I decided to walk from downtown Detroit instead of take public transportation. I’d almost reached my partner’s home when the above image, juxtaposing a personal injury lawyer’s advertisement and a sign pointing to Canada, froze me in place. It seemed a message to the city overall. An invitation to flee, as so many have already.
Detroit’s dramatic population drop shows the attraction of the juxtaposed message. Most probably didn’t go to Windsor, but people bought the basic message.
Now the same exit invitation is being made to the city’s art objects. The Detroit Institution of the Arts is under pressure from the city’s emergency manager to sell off many masterworks. I think there are smarter options. My proposal for a traveling exhibition was published in HuffPo earlier this year. The New York Times also included some of my thoughts on the DIA in a recent news article.
Building blocks for those of us that have yet to fashion a happiness plan for 2013:
Behold these Great Beasts of the Cinematic Wild:
Who is unfamiliar with the cinema critic’s spin on the Bond franchise as primarily a national propaganda project, subtly turning on an alternative history of Britannia? This view essentially holds that James Bond is to English culture what the Odyssey is to ancient Greek culture—a dramatic time capsule of a forget me not. When we surrender to it, we witness a world in which Britannia’s pink radius remains globally influential—Sauron as a massive pink eye beaming pink rays into every global corner & cranny; at least those outfitted with Cineplexes or nimble pirate markets.
The Bond franchise arrives on Big Screens as the modern colonial world is dissolving into Euro-mimetic nation-states—the films are not only readable as Cold War pop art &cinematic adjuncts of second wave Hipsters (Mailer’s White Negroidism—defined by “ a new breed of adventurers, urban adventurers who drifted out at night looking for action with a black man’s code to fit their facts[,] hipster[s that] had absorbed the existentialist synapses of the Negro, [&] for practical purposes could be considered a white Negro”—as exemplified by the inaugural issue of Playboy, et al.); they also work nicely as reactionary post-colonial artifacts. Imperial implosion’s no need for adventurism cessation.
The realm reduced—intensified, as in gastronomic parlance, & shrunken in size—to a Union Jack draped ceramic bulldog. Fragile resilience. Heavy-fisted metaphors, but they still function. James Bond constitutes this concept as a kind of plane of consistency throughout Skyfall.
Through a racialist lens, the film’s cinnamon-toned cyber-villain, a one-man SPECTRE for a Hacker Age, is an advisory element broken free from the rival reduced empire of Spain, which has become comfortable with relaxing into a kind of national death. Reflecting on the exhaustion that all that Bondian jumping & fighting brings on, the cinnamon-y villain advises Bond to “relax…”—“…unto death” he may as well have said: M’s, that of the sacrificial beauty that JB’s sexes up, Empires’, & of course JB’s own—it’s certainly what I heard.
At times, the fantastical national-imperial psychodrama is echoed by Bond’s personal catharsis. Or his attempt at it. The film is a little longer than a typical therapy session, but not long enough to shrink our Anglo-nostalgia (not even with alley-oop-like assist from The Hobbit thundering from an adjacent theatre cave) & JB’s “unresolved childhood trauma”. The crumpled Bond we witness at the close of the still underappreciated On Her Majesty’s Secret Service would have been more fitting than the aging bulldog Bond of Skyfall’s last minutes. There’s insufficient multidimensional humanity in Craig’s Bond for trauma therapy to have any meaning. His Bond is a plane. A front. A screen.
& also the James Brown of James Bonds; no other visibly works harder. & his physicality, his dogged exhaustion clues us in to Bond’s meaning. “Bond” resonates most strongly with its legal & financial significations in our moment—our bond is our pennywise word as we promise to repay borrowed money, and so on. But it is more meaningful, against the fantastical psychodrama of Skyfall to hear the word ‘s chemical & architectural tones first—as that which holds people, or a people, together, that which binds, that which imprisons. The James Bond franchise may be the most radical counter-insurgency ever mounted—an aestheticized, alternative history, perimeter lined in pink radiance.
I compiled these notes on the film while listening to Anthony Davis’ Clonetics & reflecting on Tom Jacob’s nice essay, which I read today while in flight from Tallahassee to Boston.This discussion between film critic Elvis Mitchell and director Sam Mendes sent me into the theatre.