Thursday, 10 March 2011
A collision
'In a state of rude nature there is no such thing as people... The idea of a people... is wholly artificial; and made, like all other legal fictions, by common agreement. What the particular nature of that agreement was, is collected from the form into which the particular society has been cast' (Burke, ctd. in Williams, 1988: 220)
The tree seems only to be performing itself but it is framed by an unnatural, brutal architecture that makes its nature seem uncanny to me. I live near a very old Weeping Willow that is more nourished than this one; it's buy a pond and in the middle of a park, a psuedo-natural environment. It doesn't perform as this one does; its swaying seems less aesthetically dynamic.
There is, perhaps, something emerging between the urban and the rural, the natural and the human...
Wednesday, 9 March 2011
monkey man
In watching a person, they learn about the habits of trees just as through watching trees we can learn about the habits of people.
Trees and their fruit themselves become characters in the drama of communities and ritual and oral history.
Of course it was a futile endeavour .. as they look around they see one dead white tree , a vista of blankness
the Christmas tree, Easter eggs and Christ’s resurrection hint at the existence of a deep strata of desire for ekstatic connection with the non-human world.
a tree planted as a child will grow with the individual, this represents a quality of relational practice
Maple leaves by Human artist Andy Goldsworthy who takes natural objects and arranges them for his art.
“There is no absurdity in imagining the representation of the needs of a tree for sun and water in the face of a proposal to cut it down or pave its immediate radius for a parking lot. We might of course, on reflection, decide to go ahead and cut it down or do the paving, but there is hardly an intelligibility problem about representing the tree's interest in our deciding not to. In the face of their obvious tendencies to maintain and heal themselves, it is very difficult to reject the idea of interests on the part of trees (and plants generally) in remaining alive.”[1]
at times of recession consumers should “return to the high s---tree-----t” [1]
understanding of growth belongs primarily to the domain of practical knowledge:
“A non-mediated perceptual knowledge that orders social relations between people and between people and other living organisms[1]
the Kayans of Borneo who;
“Are of the opinion” that that a tree spirits “visits them with displeasure when any injury done to them. Hence after building a house, whereby they have been forced to ill-treat many trees, these people observe a period of penance for a year, during which they must abstain from many things, such as the killing of bears, tiger cats, and serpents.”[1]
In the 1980s and 1990s, Borneo underwent a remarkable transition. Its forests were levelled at a rate unparallel in human history.
I lived in the cotter's hovel, together with seven other children, and a pig—out there on the grey plain, where there isn't a single tree. But from our windows I could see the wall around the count's park, and apple-trees above it. That was the Garden of Eden, and many fierce angels were guarding it with flaming swords. Nevertheless, I and some other boys found our way to the Tree of Life—now you despise me?
[1]The Street is lined with cars. There’s not a breath of fresh
air in the neighborhood. The grass don’t grow any more, you
can’t raise a carrot in the back yard. They should’ve had a law
against apartment houses. Remember those two beautiful elm
trees out there? When I and Biff hung the swing between
them?
LINDA: Yeah, like being a million miles from the city.
WILLY: They should’ve arrested the builder for cutting those
down. They massacred the neighbourhood. (Lost.) More and
more I think of those days, Linda. This time of year it was lilac
and wisteria. And then the peonies would come out, and the
daffodils. What fragrance in this room!”[1]
Immaterialisation of ecological networks encourages the individual to turn to the individual ego-self. The subject scrutinises the now authorless book, and finds the human author has become an image neither of god nor of man, nor the tribe but the individual lone subject. This lonely subject in the dualist universe identifies its own being as the only repository of certainty, and cries for help, from the only “subject” not too distracted by their own concerns within the capitalist culture to listen :
“ESTRAGON:
We should turn resolutely towards Nature.
VLADIMIR:
We've tried that.” [1]
the Christmas tree, Easter eggs and Christ’s resurrection hint at the existence of a deep strata of desire for ekstatic connection with the non-human world.
a tree planted as a child will grow with the individual, this represents a quality of relational practice
I became accustomed to listening to the inner whispers of knowledge that every bird, or tree or flower could precipitate and there grew the slow realization that whatever voice it was that spoke, or image that formed, it always had relevance for my own personal unfolding. The truth of the eastern sages, that there is no real separation but a continuum of consciousness, began to dawn in the simplest of its meanings – all beings are dancing within a greater dance of space and time, and that dance is choreographed. Synchronicity rather than coincidence is the unavoidable consequence. Whether one realizes this nature of things, is simply a matter of awareness. What begins at first as openness and acceptance of the possibility evolves into a knowledge based upon the reality of experience. “[1]
by developing awareness of the relations between one’s own breathing and the movement of the wind in the trees for example, or learning to “see” as well as “look”, are invitations to access other modes of being; other possible future selves.
Look at a picture of a tree
Describe a tree,
Smell a tree
Plant a tree
Look out of the window at a tree
Watch a video of a tree
Think of the semiotics of tree
Apply semiotic practices of anlysis to
Attempt to perform tree-ness
Understand its process of photosynthesis
Enjoy the pattern of its leaves
Realise they are acid rain burn marks
Walk slowly to the tree
Burn the tree for warmth
Burn yourself by mistake
See the tree as a home for others
Sell the tree for profit
Be reminded of the patience of your mother
Climb the tree
Eat fruit from the tree
Hug the tree
Hang yourself from the tree
Sit in front of the tree and look out towards the audience.
Paint the tree white
“ESTRAGON: We should turn resolutely towards Nature.
VLADIMIR: We've tried that.
ESTRAGON: True.”[1]
Bower bird nest new guinea[1]
[1]August Strindberg: miss Julie The Project Gutenberg EBook of Plays by August Strindberg, Second series by August Strindberg http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/14347/pg14347.html Unpaginated accessed 15th January 2011
[1] Arthur Miller’s Death of salesman http://pkpolitics.com/files/2008/05/arthur-miller-death-of-a-salesman.pdf unpaginated
A 3 legged woman
She walked, slowly, 3 legs progressing as two as if the pain was bearable, as if she was someone she was not. A life now lived as if. Daring to look into the darkness might mean a challenge to 'as if'. The third leg was palpable, sometimes it even energized her, gave her the sense that she was special and that a life of 'as if' was not necessary. It was a long journey but the third leg made it more bearable somehow.
The cars moved, lurched, danced past the window and a young boy moved across the sand and stones appearing to her to limp. Was this a limp, was this a mis-seeing on her part, or was this the 'as if' manifest in an other? It was impossible to know. Knowing doesn't like 'as if', knowing doesn't like 3 legs, it knows 2 are best, optimal, known and yet...she continued to walk, slowly, 3 legs progressing as if...the sea continuing 'as if' it had no part to play in all of this
JB 8 March, 2011
JB 8 March, 2011
It was an entrance of sorts, I suppose; although they had been waiting too long for a cue. They met twenty one years ago (and repeated it) but if Debord was right it was nothing more an encounter in spectacular time.
No history; unremembered time.
Entering a pseudo-cyclical momentum willingly if not without trepidation. Taut anticipation of retrospection drives them onwards towards attempted knowing but without proper contemplation. They run forwards and as they do three are lifted off their feet and pushed suddenly to the floor. Stop – turn – crouch – grab – lift.
(PD; March 2011)
[(10 + 10) + (20 + 20) + (30 + 30)] x 4. Repeat.
There is an unsteady balance here and in that encounter there is a collective in-breath that punctures the cacophony of noise engulfing it all. Someone weeps.
They run. Two drop. Stop – turn – crouch – grab – lift. Repeat.
Someone weeps.
Run. Drop. Stop. Lift. Repeat.
Repeat.
Stop.
P.D. March 2011
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