Tag: Bringing it All Back Home

Bringing it All Back Home

by on Oct.30, 2010

Why is this album cover so beguiling? I think for its gyre-like qualities–the vortex– occult/Modernist qualities. The golden ring feels like an error AND like a media effect– an accident of light, a glitch or warp of the film or lens?– making us feel the presence of (archaic feeling) non-digital apparatus by which this photo was taken. At the same time, it looks like the iris of an eye. So the eye is somehow the ‘same as’ the glitch, the error, and the media– the archaic media. Here, rather than representing rationality and insight, or even just perception in its various definitions, this eye is excessive to itself. It is an eye that can see itself (rather than a transparent eyeball), an eye which seeps (or leaks) its own gold material onto the image itself.

And the image itself has rat-nest, imperialistic qualities. Like Marlowe, or any armchair imperialist, Bob Dylan has lugged a bunch of knowledge ‘back home’, rendered here in material form. Knowledge is materialized everywhere as books, magazines, sheet music, portraits, furniture, friezes, woman, I guess. The woman has a knowing look. She is not the Intended, despite her black hair, because we are at the end of History, here, everything has been or is going to be shortly consumed. Foreshortened to the point of convexity? Perhaps to be consumed by a conflagration, that is, by the evil eye, which does not see but leaks, stains, marks. Stigmatas. (Eye-stigmata.)
Culture as the possessions of the dead.
Shortly to be (re-)possessed by media the eye.

Et in arcadia, I was (always?already?in the process of being!) possessed by media!

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A New Quarantine Will Take My Place, or, Ambient Violence, or, Bringing it All Back Home

by on Oct.11, 2010

et in quarantine ego

Johannes used the term ‘ambient violence’ to discuss Ronaldo Wilson’s book a few posts back, but actually I applied that phrase in a breakfast-table discussion of his book A New Quarantine Will Take My Place and I’d like to discuss what I meant by that.

We live in an environment of total violence, it seems to me. Guns, trucks, carcinogens, sweatshop clothing, “The tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants,” predator drones, gay suicides, fraking, PTSD, gun violence in Chicago, corporations are persons, guns want to be free, and etc. As in the villified[i] Bolaño story, William Burns, violence runs all around the house and then it enters the house.  But at the precise point in which that story is saturated with violence, and the windows in the house start breaking apart with it as in some horror flick,  the supersaturation causes the material of violence to attach at random to various surfaces. Specifically, the apparent agent of violence becomes its victim.  The victim-characters become murderous and throw the violence back.  They who had been the target-receptacles of violence become mediums of violence (the media of violence). The body, the house, the girlfriend, the other girlfriend, the dogs, the narrator, the bodypolitic keeps twitching and switching sides within violence’s tidal, vital erratic currents.

Sarah Palin: Beauty must be convulsive or it shall not be.
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