The Noise Arts

The Delta Brainwave Society is a Divers Noise Arts Collective. But what, you may ask, are the noise arts?

Noise arts is a catchall term. If it is produced with the mindset or noise art, it is. This, naturally, cannot be the only designator of what makes an art ‘noise’. Indeed not. Intention would never be so solely magnified. Noise arts can only, however, be provisionally defined. They are the aspects of the arts that highlight the gaps, the breakages, the ruptures, the limitations, the failures. They are the strange stranger, the heretic that can never be orthodoxicized. They are the fringe. Sometimes for the delight of the fringe and sometimes because they have been pushed away by everyone and everything else and it simply where they find themselves. “No one ever plans to sleep out in the gutter / Sometimes that’s just the most comfortable place.”

Perhaps, when it comes down to it, the simplest way to phrase it is this:

Life is a noise art.

We are culturally programmed to narrativise. Most of us see ourselves as some version of the protagonist of our own story. We want to find the meaning written into cultural products (novels, movies, pop songs) in our day to day. It is never really there. Life is too erratic, unplanned, unpredictable, chaotic in its normalcy for that. Life is too alive. This is where the desire to claim a divine (but unknowable but I’m still certain it exists even though all evidence is to the contrary) plan comes from. There is no plan, divine or otherwise. 

But in embracing the noise of life, in making art of it, we gain a fair measure of understand and a potential level of control. 

Don’t Panic. 

The human life is the art. It is an extended aesthetic project (often unknowing & unwitting). But acceptance of the noise and art of living leads into the further noise arts. If one’s life is embraced as noise, so to one’s music, speech, writing, film&video, etc. 

This is art as the expression of living as noise. There is no meaning save living as noise. The art is an extension of the life. The life is an extension of the primal chaos. 

the Massive Archive (“I have forgotten my umbrella” & tweeted about it)

I have argued elsewhere against the futility of the Infinite Archive – as expressed through various projects, many of them by google (like the desire to scan and digitize every book ever). But the futility of the Infinite Archive is built into the dream: its being is its perpetually unfinished becoming. The problem is thus not with the Infinite Archive (that at least can be thought and conceived. The problem, rather is with the Massive Archive.

Human beings can think infinity. We can grasp the concept. Sure there are vagaries that escape some and nuances that escape others. We are not all mathemagicians. But the infinitesimal and the massively massive are much more difficult entering into impossible. There are not infinite grains of sand on a beach. Planck length can be grasped mathematically but conceptually? As numbers approach the massively huge and minusculely small, we humans lose the ability to fully grasp their meaning.

Why does this matter? How does this relate to the archival project? Consider, if you will, the process of collecting the libraries, works, letters, files, papers, and documents of the notable. Various libraries and universities pride themselves on the collections that they possess and the research potential of those archives can, indeed, be tremendous. But what will happen to the collected papers of a contemporary figure? For some, it may be little different. But what about those who maintain a significant digital and social media presence? Who conduct research, writing, & public speech, etc. through those various platforms and the platforms to come? Will their archives necessarily include their Twitter feeds? What about deleted tweets? Saved but unpublished blog post drafts? The value of these archives is that they often include personal documents but how will we decide which private messages and private feeds are to be archived? How many of the endless stream of digital photos saved in ever cheaper digital storage? What part of our search histories (even the ones on incognito?)? Ironic and/or informative hashtags? Location data? What portion of the cloud? Will the NSA contribute what they have gathered?

The personal archive of a contemporary individual is not infinite. But the process of archiving a digital life in order that it might be useful and meaningful for later generations is going to involve a whole new form of culling and curation. Because surely keeping everything would make the archive unwieldy, spoiled for riches and thus starving because of its own excess. How can Nietzsche’s laundry lists compare to Istagramming our meals? But who decides what is archived and what is left to the digital landfill? Who decides which fragments and feeds might be relevant in a century or two? And what would that deciding look like?

There remains hope that the metadata of the future might resolve this issue down the line (for those down the line) but since the process of attaching appropriate metadata to current archiving and digitization projects is so complex and time-consuming at present, one wonders if that will provide much help to the present. One can conceive of a search capable of “finding what we are looking for” but is there a practical way of implementing such a vision? Keywords and tags are useful but certainly flawed.

Perhaps the solution lies in curation, perhaps in improved metadata, maybe in some really cool thing that I don’t even know about, but the issue of the Massive Archive remains and remains to be solved. And now, this.

The greatest American liberty

The greatest American liberty is to be left alone to do and say as one pleases (ending at (just the) tip of the other’s nose).

You can call this religious liberty or freedom of speech or any other sociopolitical semantic construction you desire. What many of the conservatives in the room seem to be forgetting of late is that this live and let die policy demands that you don’t get upset by what you see if you insist on being a voyeur and spying on your neighbors.

Exponentially worse than the linguistic decision to allow literally (because of such rampant misuse) to also be defined as figuratively, is the application of law to enforce ‘religious’ liberty. Liberty is based on what one can be forced to do or kept from doing (or, rather, the absence of that force). It is not (in any way) based on what one can be asked to tolerate, to accept, to understand, to learn about, or to accept as fully human. Religious liberty (or liberty of any legally enforceable kind) is unrelated to what one may or may not agree with (despite deeply held beliefs). Otherwise my religious liberty invalidates your capitalism and willingness to destroy the planet.

Given that so many of those ‘deeply held beliefs’ are based on modern interpretations of ancient, translated writing  (mythologic, figurative, and often marked by extreme poetic license) the claim becomes even more tenuous. Social reality is based on consensual construction and shared meaning. Liberty is not, and cannot, be based on the attempt to force shared meaning, especially such culturally specific (in this case evangelical) meaning. The inability to accept that meaning is constructed or the inability to believe that history did not happen the way one wants to believe it did is not a basis upon which to insist that others blindly follow the path of ignorance. One is entitled, in America, to be ignorant and useless. One is not empowered to insist that the government protect that ignorance or force it upon others.

a brief thought on ethics and the inanimate/unhuman

My thoughts on justice revolve around juxtaposition: rights as justified by force vs. responsibilities demanded by ethics.

Rights are not innate or inherent. Whether basic rights, expanded rights, universal rights, they must all be backed by and maintained through force. Rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness can be taken away, can be limited. Thus justice based on rights can only be guaranteed by force. In the expansion of rights beyond the human (beyond the privileged human), it becomes easier to understand justice that is based on responsibilities instead. An animal cannot, at present in our society, insist on its ethical treatment alone but does so through advocates who demand a responsibility to animals. Similarly, we must accept a responsibility to our environment, the land, the oceans, the living, the inanimate.

This is not presently the case – consider the rare examples of shark attacks (#notallsharks) and the mass slaughter of sharks for their fins. Consider the human responsibility for changing the moleculelar make up of the atmosphere, the salinity and acidification of the oceans. This brings us into more complicated territory because, while the living creatures of the oceans, of the planet certainly care about such things as a habitable environment, can it be said that the ocean cares? Do mountain ranges have demands that need to be heard?

The question is not what rights and privileges do we have because we can force others to give them to us (human rights exist only in the mind if they are not backed up by threats of or actual violence and that is equally how they are threatened and removed). The question is what responsibilities do we have to the 10,000 things. Our responsibilities to the inanimate are difficult for me to articulate without becoming biocentric. This is because I am unable to think as the inanimate think (thinking already being the wrong word, words already being the wrong form of communication, communication already limiting understand, etc. etc.)

Yet even to begin down the process of responsibilities to the planet for the sake of the living is to begin heading in the right direction. Perhaps one day we will come to understand the will of the wind. Such a conversation would be awesome to behold.

borrowed words (power of the commons)

reagan's 3rd sotu

reagan's 3rd sotu2

reagan's 3rd sotu3

reagan's 3rd sotu4

reagan's 3rd sotu5

reagan's 3rd sotu6

reagan's 3rd sotu7

reagan's 3rd sotu8

reagan's 3rd sotu9

reagan's 3rd sotu10

reagan's 3rd sotu11

 

 

 

&&&

The source text used here is Ronald Reagan’s Third State of the Union Speech (delivered on January 25, 1984). Nothing has been added. This is not an effort to create a strawman Reagan but rather an experiment to show the creative, poetic, and theoretical potential within contextomy. Reagan was used because he remains a polarizing figure but also because State of the Union addresses are in the public domain. The power of the commons.

 

On not being special: privilege, flags, religion

 

You are not special.

&&&

My thought is a wide ranging mélange of conflicting, contradictory, dissonant ideas juxtaposed to bring out the beauty of noise. There are reasons I study what I do in the ways I do it.

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Recent events (do I need to bother linking to whichever version of these stories you have/haven’t read yet?) have once again brought (White/cis/male/hetero/American/Western/capitalist/human/etc.) privilege under attack. Deservedly. Privilege needs to be continually acknowledge and its dismantling is not an easy or straightforward process but a necessary one. What privilege essentially claims is that you are special, you are exceptional, you are exempt, you are good-better-best. This is simply and obviously untrue. For numerous reasons. I will note here, briefly, one that stands out to me, that fits with my perspective and position as a knowing bearer of privilege, aware and desirous of its decay.

&&&

Privilege requires power to be implemented and there are plenty of sources in which one can research the forms of power (institutional, ideological, religious, historical, martial, etc.) and how they have been and continue to be used to establish zones and forms of privilege and exception. This is an example of those who make the most noise, who have the power to make the most noise, are allowed (or allow themselves) to make the most noise.

Privilege requires authority, though, if it is to be conceived, if it is to be thought and articulated as a political/philosophical position. Appeals to god(s), Science, Nature, Force, etc. are used to develop and explicate this necessary bedrock of authority from which privilege and exception (and violence, and oppression) can emanate.

However, as a nihilist, I acknowledge no authorities-as-such. There is no purpose, no prima causa, or principle of sufficient reason to the universe. Things exist. Indifferently. Thus, we (and this ‘we’ can include any grouping of anything) are not special. We are unique in that everything is unique and hyperdifferentiated. It doesn’t matter.

If there are no transcendent authorities (no gods, no monolithic True Science, no actual Pristine Nature) and Force maintains a tenuous grasp once decoupled from mythos, then there can be no privilege. I am no better than, no more important than, the couch I am sitting on, the river I can see from my bedroom window, the molecules that make up the air I breathe. Note here, even in my posthuman musings, I am still bound to a certain anthropocentrism. I am human; I can only think and act as human. It is my effort to push my thought (and actions) away from privileging my status and standpoint (as white, as male, as cis, as human, etc) but those categories remain and (some are not fully escapable, constructed though they may be). But I will never be able to know how a rock (or a Vampyroteuthis infernalis) thinks, understands, or æffects the world (note how anthropocentric the terms of relation already are).

After that, perhaps distracting, digression into a vague ontology, let me bring this back to what set this post rolling.

Breitbart (who don’t need more links) has a post up demanding the taking down of the Gay Pride flag because it is “Fascist” and “Anti-Christian.” I am sure that they believe that this is a very apt and clever response to the demand for the removal of the Confederate Battle Flag from state and federal property. The fact that it isn’t should be more than obvious. A symbol of struggle against oppression is not the same as a symbol of oppression. Funny how phrases that use some of the same words don’t always mean the same things (that is why I like to work with contextomy as an attack on authority and entrenched power but it doesn’t work as well as a straw man argument). But what the claim surrounding this retort amounts to is that these conservatives and christians want to be treated like they are special, like their hurt feelings matter regardless of their position as privileged.

Now, you might begin to see a slight flaw in this argument. I noted its potential and am thus now, again, digressing. If all things were equal, the desire to remove the Confederate Battle flag would be just as much a claim for a special exemption as the desire for the removal of the Gay Pride flag. All things are not equal. No one starts the race from the same point. This brings us to a question of values. As there are no inherent values in an indifferent universe, societies must choose and establish values. For me, the drive towards equality is an important one. If everyone were equal, had equal opportunity and equal access, got equal pay, and was treated as equally human we (as a human society) would be a lot better off and arguments about flags and racism would be irrelevant. But we are not equal and pretending that we are does not erase that fact. Pretending that racism is gone is something only those in a position of privilege can think that they do (even as they exercise the privileges established by institutional racism).

It is because there are no authorities that we have the freedom (and duty) to make a better society. It is also why we have the freedom and duty to make a better world (which would require denying human privilege and exceptionalism, but perhaps that is another post). Of course it is also why we have the freedom to be colossal fuckups using force, violence, oppression, and mythology to establish unequal societies that rape and pillage the land, the planet, the Other, the environment, etc. etc. etc.

&&&

We are not special. We are to blame.

plague, superbugs, & the sixth extinction

The other day I saw a headline about a septicemic plague fatality and that started this process. Yesterday, this phrase “(To discredit, promote distrust, disuade, deter, delay or disrupt)” jumped out at me from an article on The Intercept and I began reading Elizabeth Kolbert’s The Sixth Extinction. This morning I was reminded that a bit of garlic, some onion or leek, copper, wine and oxgall can kill MRSA and gator blood is even more potent. I started watching The Last Ship. From these disparate points, I began a thought trail that led to this:

[This will be an exercise in hyperstition, heuretics, and thoryvological associative analysis. The following is not meant to be true but æffective, not inherently factual nor necessarily faithful to the original context/intent. The quotes are kept intact and in, for the most part, complete sentences but they are robbed of their originary order and context and juxtaposed in disparate dissonance and harmony with intent bound by the above impulses and ideas, marked by the passing of this the 23rd day of the month. It is not a question of what it means but what it can do.] 

 

 

 

***

This is a textual machine designed to produce other machines. What mattered here wasn’t the author(s) or the means of textual production at all, but rather the circulation and the effects of the text in the world. This is, of course, a demand for complicity. I insist on your freedom. Your tormentors will be purified.

There were things in the text I hadn’t been expecting. Uncomfortable, complicating passages. The distortion of a text is not unlike a murder. The difficulty lies not in the execution of the deed but in the doing away with the traces. The thing is easily false. But the meaning, to this day, still escapes us. This is the lesson you forgot.

Of course, words fail.

***

I love you because there’s nothing else to do. A rage to live, an urge to goodness. Love.

The utterance threw them into confusion or rather angered them further, which often comes to the same thing. Who were these people who could live so placidly while the world fell into an acute global environmental crisis? In our era of natural disasters, climate change, global pandemics, and the ongoing specter of bioterror, we are continually invited to think about humanity in relation to its real, hypothetical, or speculative extinction. Yet to go back is to go forward into uncertainty and invention.

I think there’s still a small block of original quiet that exists in the world. Theory in itself did not free people to reach into a deeper area of sound. Noise also functions in the cybernetic sense, as a result of its viral functioning in the world.

On the universal face of the world, the grand old Pan, the son of all the dead, is dead. The previous habitation of space is a trace that may then go on to constitute it in the future, in its absence. No longer is there a here or appropriation; we live as transients or tenants, deprived of a fixed abode. There is no more space, no more history, no more time. In the end the black river would burst its banks to become a black sea whose centre was everywhere and circumference nowhere.

***

There is no stillness, only change. A movement unlocked my attention. It was a derelict. A relic of something nine-tenths collapsed. Nothing decays either, moreover; nothing truly perishes. In this case, chance as nonsense is visible in the very insignificance of its result. In neither case would one be left with anything except a radically dysfunctional wreck, terminally shut-down hardware.

***

There is nothing, and it cannot be known. Either I do not know the world, or I do not know myself. Nothing alive is ever quite in balance.

I know there is no boatman. It was incomprehensible to her: they didn’t want to know. By necessity there are other characteristics that are not accounted for, that are not measured, and that remain hidden and occulted. The shipwreck will preclude the apocalypse.

***

Without noise, all we do is repeat. The repetition of noise intoxicates as much as violence. Deep thick silence thundered from behind the closed door. And what he finds there is a terrifying abyss, where there is neither certitude nor knowledge, nor even a single thought – just a tenebrous, impassive silence. There was complete silence, intermittently broken by the faintest electronic sounds – something between a distant computer game and muffled speech software. It was like there was this hole in the quiet. Every living creature, animal and human both, was terrified by this cacophony.

***

Following the shaman into the cave. We’ve never lost any of that. We are swept on by a whirlwind which dates back to the dawn of time; and if this whirlwind has assumed the aspect of an order, it is only the better to do away with us. The world was spun out of a blade of grass: the world was spun out of a mind. Except never to see or feel that black river that cannot be crossed, but flows like a nothingness through the hole of you. Chaos? Chaos is rejecting all you have learned, chaos is being yourself. The seduction of the arbitrary alarms us. Thought that stumbles over itself, at the edge of an abyss. It is a kind of mysticism that can only be expressed in the dust of this planet. After having sought to be a sage such as never was, I am only a madman among the mad.

***

While looking for the light, you may suddenly be devoured by the darkness and find the true light. Our luminescent, naked bodies dissolve into a swarm of obscure creeping things, and we are a mass of glutinous coiling worms, endless. How we would conduct ourselves if dragged to its depths, where eternal darkness is punctured only by its bioluminescence, remains to be seen. We do not dislike everything that shines, but we do prefer a pensive luster to a shallow brilliance, a murky light that, whether in a stone or an artifact, bespeaks a sheen of antiquity. Something strange slowly washed over and enveloped me like the black ink of an octopus, as I stood there in the stand, and I felt above all like screaming out the story of my experience, such as they were. The man who has never imagined his own annihilation, who has not anticipated recourse to the rope, the bullet, poison, or the sea, is a degraded galley slave or a worm crawling upon cosmic carrion. For now, at least, it is only with its help that we can hope to orient ourselves in the darkness of the abyss.

 

***

Once again he felt that he had crossed over into a space where the real world had taken on all the qualities of a dream, becoming as glossy and surreal, as unlikely and beautiful, as stuffed to a dark sheen with ungraspable meaning. What spell had been cast around me to make my hold on reality feel so tenuous? I didn’t know if the noise had been part of some dream I’d been having or a real, external thing. A world whose margins would become capricious, but this caprice would not refer to any hidden intention. Rather, it involves the generation of memory outside of and apart from any possible experiential event. Dark traces of the past lay in his soul, ready to break through into the regions of consciousness. That interference covers the sense with non-sense by scrambling it and making his words into waste, or by covering it up with other words. It was as if I was in a madness and a frenzy and a depression that older and wiser peoples may once have denominated the descent of a god, which seized me and for which, though I had no control, I am nevertheless to blame.This truth law has no more reality than the world. Roaring dreams take place in a perfectly silent mind. Now that we know this, throw the raft away.

***

Flux is.

***

Do you think the emptiness of the sky will ever crumble away?

***

***

Sources (in the order by which I claimed them):

Kim Stanley Robinson, Forty Signs of Rain

Justin Clemens & Helen Johnson, The Black River

Michel Serres, Malfeasance

Critical Art Ensemble, Marching Plague

Vilém Flusser, Vampyroteuthis Infernalis

Jun’ichirō Tanizaki, In Praise of Shadows

Naomi Oreskes & Erik M. Conway, The Collapse of Western Civilization

E.M. Cioran, A Short History of Decay

Jack Kerouac, The Scripture of the Golden Eternity

Sigmund Freud, Moses and Monotheism

Eugene Thacker, An Ideal for Living

Quentin Meillassoux, Science Fiction and Extro-Science Fiction

Ed Keller, Nicola Masciandaro, Eugene Thacker (eds.), Leper Creativity

Quentin Meillassoux, The Number and the Siren

Joe Morris, Perpetual Frontier

Nick Land, Fanged Noumena

Steven Hall, The Raw Shark Texts

Eugene Thacker, In The Dust of This Planet

Eugene Thacker, Starry Speculative Corpse

Eugene Thacker, Tentacles Longer Than Night