💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › politics › SPUNK › sp000912.txt captured on 2022-04-29 at 02:41:21.
⬅️ Previous capture (2022-03-01)
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
THE ELECTRONIC DISTURBANCE Critical Art Ensemble Part 3 of 7 Published by Autonomedia ISBN 1-57027-006-6 Planning a generic leftist documentary for PBS. Subject: The guerrilla war in ____________ (choose a third-world nation). 1. Choose a title carefully, since it is one of the primary framing devices. It should present itself purely as a description of the images contained in the work, but should also function as a privileged ideological marker. For example, "The Struggle for Freedom in ____________." Remember, do not mention "guerrillas" in the title. Such words have a connotation of a lost or subversive cause that could lead to irrational violent action, and that scares liberals. 2. If you have a large enough budget (and you probably do if you are making yet another film on political strife), open with a lyrical aerial shot of the natural surroundings of the country in question. Usually the countryside is held by the guerrillas. This is good. You now have the traditional authority of nature (and the morality of the town/country distinction) on your side. These are two foundational codes of didactic western art. They are rarely questioned, and will create a channel leading the viewer to the belief that you are filming a populist uprising. 3. Dissolve to the particular band of guerrillas that you are going to film. Do not show large armies, and show only small arms, not heavy weaponry. Remember, the guerrillas must look like real underdogs. Americans love that code. If you must talk about the size of the rebel army (for instance, to show the amount of popular support for the resistance), keep it abstract; give only statistics. Large military formations have that Nuremberg look to the them. If at all possible, choose a band comprised of families: It shows real desperation when an entire extended family is fighting. Keep in mind that one of your key missions is to humanize the rebels while making the dominant group an evil abstraction. Finish this sequence by stylishly introducing each of the rebels as individuals. 4. For the next sequence, single out a family to represent the group. Interview each member. Address their motivations for resistance. Follow them throughout the day. Capture the hardships of rebel activity. Be sure to show the sleeping arrangements and the poverty of the food, but concentrate on what the fight is doing to the family. End the sequence by showing the family involved in a recreational activity. This will demonstrate the rebels' ability to endure, and to be human in the face of catastrophe. It is also the perfect segue into the next sequence: "In this moment of play, who could have imagined the tragedy that would befall them..." 5. Having established the rebels as real, feeling people, it is time to turn to the enemy, by showing for instance an atrocity attributed to them. (Never show the enemy themselves; they must remain an alien abstraction, an unknown to be feared.) It is preferable if a distant relative of the focus family is killed or wounded in the represented enemy action. Document the mourning of the fellow rebels. 6. With the identities of both the rebels and the enemy established, you must now show an actual guerrilla action. It should be read as a defensive maneuver with no connotation of vengeance. Make sure that it is an evening or morning raid, to lessen sympathy for the enemy as individuals. The low light will keep them hidden and allow the sparks of the return gunfire to represent the enemy as depersonalized. Do not show guerrillas taking prisoners: It is difficult to maintain viewers' sympathy for the rebels if they are seen sticking automatic weapons in the backs of the enemy and marching them along. Finally, only show the action if the rebels seem to win the engagement. 7. In the victory sequence it is important to show the tie between the rebels and the nonmilitary personnel of the countryside. With the enemy recently beaten, it is safe to go to town and celebrate with the agrarian class. You can include speeches and commemorations in this sequence. Show the peasants giving the rebels food, while the rebels give the civilians nonmilitary materials captured during the raid. But most importantly, ensure that the sequence has a festive spirit. This will add an emotional contrast to the closing sequence. 8. Final sequence: Focus on the rebel group expressing their dreams of victory and vowing never to surrender. This should cap it: You are now guaranteed a sympathetic response from the audience. The sympathy will override any critical reflection, making the audience content to ride the wave of %your% radical subjectivity. Roll credits. Perhaps add a postscript by the filmmaker on how touched and amazed s/he was by the experience. In creating a documentary, one small adjustment could be made with minimal disturbance to the traditional model--to announce for a given work that the collection of images presented have already been fully digested within a specialized cultural perspective. Make sure the viewers know that they are watching a %version% of the subject matter, not the thing in itself. This will not cure the many ills of documentary film/video, since versions themselves are prepackaged, having little meaning in relation to other version; however, it would make the documentary model a little less repugnant, since this disclaimer would avoid the assertion that one was showing the truth of the matter. This would allow the system to remain closed, but still produce the realization that what is being documented is not a concrete history, but an independent semiotic frame through which sensation has been filtered and interpreted. Take, for instance, documentaries on a subject regarded almost universally as pleasant and innocuous, such as nature. It becomes readily apparent that nature itself is not the subject, nor could it be. Rather, the simulation of nature is actually a repository for specialized cultural perspectives and myths that are antithetical to the sign of civilization. Consider the following versions: 1. Aestheticized Nature. This is a viewpoint common to most National Geographic documentaries. In this formulation, nature is presented as the original source of beauty, grandeur, and grace. Even the most violent events become precious aesthetic processes that must be preserved. This is even true in the presentation of "exotic" racial/ethnic groups! The world is reduced to an art museum that testifies to the cosmological and teleological perfection of nature. Nature's highest function is to exist for aesthetic appreciation. Both the aesthetics and the ideology that conjure this beatific version of nature come from a well-packaged nostalgic romanticism that determines both the documentary maker's expectations and the method for filming and editing. 2. Darwinian Nature. This conception of nature is best represented by the series _The Trials of Life_. In this treatment the Hobbesian universe comes alive, and the war of all against all is graphically depicted. This blood-and- guts version of nature assembles the signage of survivalist ideology to represent the blind gropings of a cold and uncaring universe. It is a remembrance of the fatality of the world prior to the order of civilization. Such work acts as an ideological bunker defending the luxury of order produced by the police state. 3. Anthropomorphic Nature. This interpretation revolves around the question of "How are animals like people?" Typical of Disney documentaries or television shows such as _Wild Kingdom_, these films are insufferably cute, and present the natural order as one of innocence. This is not surprising, since these presentations are targeted at children, and so the conflation of human beings (particularly children) with animals is regarded as a good rubric for "healthy" socialization. These films concentrate on animals' nurturing behavior and on their modest "adventures," interpreting nature as a bourgeois entity. In all such readings, the viewer is presented with an artificially constructed pastiche of images that offers only limited possibilities for the mythic establishment of nature. Nature exists as merely a semiotic construction used to justify some ideological structure. Nature as code is kept fresh by showing animals and panoramic landscapes that are then overlaid with ideological interpretive frameworks. Nature films have never documented anything other than the artificial--that is, institutionally- constructed value systems. Much the same can be said about the political documentary, since only the contingent aspects are different. The filmmaker then shows us people and cities, rather than animals and landscapes. The various versions of the present that the documentary imposes on its viewers are refashioned by the film/video form into electronic monuments sharing a number of characteristics with their architectural counterparts. Typically, leftist documentaries parallel the function of monuments and participate in the spectacle of obscenity to the following extent: 1. Monuments function as concrete signs of an imposed reconstituted memory. 2. Monumentalism is the concrete attempt to halt the proliferation of meaning in regard to the interpretation of convulsive events. Monuments are not the signs of freedom that they appear to be, but the very opposite, signs of imprisonment, quelling freedom of speech, freedom of thought, and freedom of remembrance. As overseers in the panoptic prison of ideology, their demand for submission is masochistically obeyed by too many. 3. The return of cultural continuity is what exalts the monument in the eyes of the complicit. In its cloak of silence, the monument can easily repress contradiction. To those whose values they represent, monuments offer a peaceful space through the familiarity of cynical tradition. At the monument, the complicit are not burdened with alienation arising from diversity of opinion, nor with the anxiety of moral contradiction. They are safe from the disturbance of reflection. Monuments are the ultimate ideological bunkers--the concrete manifestations of fortress mentality. To be sure, there are differences between the architectural monuments of dominant culture, and the monuments to resistant culture, such as documentaries; those of resistant culture do not aspire to maintain the status quo, nor do they project a false continuity onto the wound of history. The problem is that many of these monuments do aspire to an eventual dominance; they aspire to produce an icon that is above critical examination. Thus far no sacred icons have been intentionally produced through the production of documentaries, but some have been accidentally produced through media spectacle. The most notable examples are the Hill/Thomas hearings, and the Rodney King beating. Certain images derived from these tapes have transcended the mundane to become sacred images for a broad spectrum of society. Like any sacred image, these icons exhaust themselves on impact, and anyone who insinuates that meanings other than the one that immediately presents itself are layered into the image will be visited with a rain of punishment. These images are so emotionally charged that they produce a panic, motivating a blind and vicious attack on any interpretive heresy. They are to the left very much what the image of the aborted fetus is to the radical right. If autonomy is the goal of resistant image production, the monumentality of the sacred must be eliminated from it. One practical advantage of reality video (video that appears to replicate history) must be recognized--its function as a democratic form of counter-surveillance. No matter how simple the video technology, it easily becomes seen as a threat. It is perceived as a receptacle for guilt that can instantly replay acts of transgression. As the perfect judicial witness, its objectivity cannot be legally questioned. Yet as an instrument of intimidation against the transgressions of power, video functions only within limited parameters. Its strict rational-legal power operates only in the context of exhausted meaning. It is a useful defense in the legal system and in media spectacle, but it is detrimental to the understanding of media itself, as it promotes the authoritarian aesthetics of exhaustion. The supremacy of reality video as the model for resistant cultural production must be challenged by those who want to see the medium of video go beyond its traditional function as propaganda, while still maintaining resistant political qualities. To eradicate reality video is unnecessary, but to curb its authority is essential. This goal can be best accomplished by developing a postmodern conceptual structure that blends with video's postmodern techno-structure. The fundamental contradiction of using 18th-century epistemology with 19th-century production techniques is that this will never adequately address the contemporary problems of representation in the society of simulation, just as medieval theology was incapable of addressing the challenges of 17th- and 18th-century philosophy. To resolve this contradiction, one must abandon the assumption that the image contains and shows fidelity to its referent. This in turn means that one can no longer use the code of causality as a means of image continuity. Preferably, one should use liquid associational structures that invite various interpretation. To be sure, all imaging systems are mediated by the viewer: The question is, to what degree? Few systems invite interpretation, and hence meaning is imposed more often than it is created. Many producers, for fear of allowing interpretation to drift out of control, have shunned the use of associational structures for politicized electronic imaging. Further, associational films tend toward the abstract, and therefore become confusing, making them ineffective among the disinterested. These problems prompt the eternal return to more authoritarian models. The answer to such commentary is that the viewer deserves the right to disinterest, and the freedom to drift. Confusion should be seen as an acceptable aesthetic. The moment of confusion is the precondition for the scepticism necessary for radical thought to emerge. The goals then of resistant nonfiction video are twofold: Either to call attention to and document the sign construction of simulation, or to establish confusion and scepticism so that simulations cannot function. The associational video is by its very nature recombinant. It assembles and reassembles fragmented cultural images, letting the meanings they generate wander unbounded through the grid of cultural possibility. It is this nomadic quality that distinguished them from the rigidly bounded recombinant films of Hollywood; however, like them, they rest comfortably in neither the category of fiction nor nonfiction. For the purposes of resistance, the recombinant video offers no resolution; rather it acts as a data base for the viewer to make h/is own inferences. This aspect of the recombinant film presupposes a desire on the part of the viewer to take control of the interpretive matrix, and construct h/is own meanings. Such work is interactive to the extent that the viewer cannot be a passive participant. S/he must not be spoonfed a particular point of view for a pedagogical purpose. This characteristic often works against popular interaction, since strategies to break the habitual passive consumption of spectacle have not received much attention. What is more unfortunate is that such work is often perceived to be elitist, because its use of the aesthetics of confusion does not %at present% draw popular support. It should be noted that such commentary generally comes from a well-positioned intelligentsia certain of the correctness of its ideology. Its mission is not to free its converts, but to keep them locked in and defending the bunker of solidified ideology. It is disturbance through liquidation of these structures that resistant nomadic media attempts to accomplish. This cannot be done by producing more electronic monuments, but rather, by an imaginative intervention and critical reflection liberated in an unresolved and uncertain electronic moment. Chapter 4 ]]> The Recombinant Theater and the Performative Matrix In some cultures familiar with only modest imaging technologies, people believe that one should not allow oneself to be photographed, as this process steals a part of the soul. This uncanny intuition perhaps shows an understanding that as representation of the self expands, the performative matrix becomes cluttered with simulated persona that can usurp the role of organic self-presentation. The body as representation relinquishes its sovereignty, leaving the image of the body available for appropriation and for reestablishment in sign networks separate from those of the given world. From a contemporary point of view, this is not necessarily negative, since it suggests the possibility that one can continually reinvent one's character identification and role to better suit one's desires. In light of the possibility, we ought to surrender essentialist notions of self, personality, and body and take up roles within the dramaturgical grid of everyday life. Yet there is always an uneasiness that accompanies this utopian possibility. This anxiety arises less from the curious nonposition of having no fixed qualities, than it does from the fear that the power of reinvention lies elsewhere. One senses that hostile external forces, rather than self-motivated ones, are constructing us as individuals. This problem becomes increasingly complex in techno-culture, where people find themselves in virtual theaters alien to everyday life but which have a tremendous impact on it. Abstracted representations of self and body, separate from the individual, are simultaneously present in numerous locations, interacting and recombining with others, beyond the control of the individual and often to h/is detriment. For the critical performer, exploring and interrogating the wanderings and manipulations of the numerous electronic dopplegangers within the many theaters of the virtual should be of primary significance. Consider the following scenario: A person (P) walks into a bank with the idea of securing a loan. According to the dramaturgical structure of the situation, the person is required to present h/erself as a responsible and trustworthy loan applicant. Being a good performer, and comfortable with this situation, P has costumed h/erself well by wearing clothing and jewelry that indicate economic comfort. P follows the application procedures well, and uses good blocking techniques with appropriate handshakes, standing and sitting as socially expected, and so on. In addition, P has prepared and memorized a well-written script that fully explains h/er need for the loan, as well as h/er ability to repay it. As careful as P is to conform to the codes of the situation, it quickly becomes apparent that h/er performance in itself is not sufficient to secure the loan. All that P has accomplished by the performance is to successfully convince the loan officer to interview h/er electronic double. The loan officer calls up h/er credit history on the computer. It is this body, a body of data, that now controls the stage. It is, in fact, the %only% body which interests the loan officer. P's electronic double reveals that s/he has been late on credit payments in the past, and that s/he has been in a credit dispute with another bank. The loan is denied; end of performance. This scenario could just as easily have had a happy ending, but its real importance is to show that the organic performance was primarily redundant. The reality of the applicant was suspect; h/er abstracted image as credit data determined the result of the performance. The engine of the stage, represented by the architecture of the bank, was consumed by the virtual theater. The stage of screenal space, supported by the backstage data bases and internets, maintains ontological privilege over the theater of everyday life. With an understanding of the virtual theater, one can easily see just how anachronistic most contemporary performance art is. The endless waves of autoperformance, manifesting themselves as monologues and character bits, serve primarily as nostalgic remembrances of the past, when the performative matrix was centered in everyday life, and focused on organic players. As a work of cultural resistance, the autoperformance's subversive intent appears in its futile attempt to reestablish the subject on the architectural stage. Like most restorationist theater, its cause is dead on arrival. The performance grid in this situation is already overcoded by the extreme duration of its history, and also suffers from the clutter of codes and simulated persona imposed by spectacle. The attempt to sidestep these problems, by bringing the personal into the discourse, does not have an intersubjective depth of meaning that can maintain itself without networking with coding systems independent of the individual performer. Consequently, the spectacular body and the virtual body consume the personal by imposing their own predetermined interpretive matrices. As shocking as it may sound, the personal is %not% the political in recombinant culture. Such problems indicate powerfully that the model of production is thoroughly antiquated for performance (as for so much contemporary art). Although in ancient times, the stage was the preeminent platform for the interaction of mythic codes, and although this status remained unquestioned until the 19th century, it has now reached a point of exhaustion. The traditional stage in and of itself is a hollow bunker divorced from power. As a location for disturbance, it offers little hope. Rigor mortis has set in, and what used to be a site for liquid characters, who appeared simply by grabbing a mask, has now become a place where only the situations of the past or the simulations of the present may be replayed. Attempts to expand the stage have met with interesting results. The aim of The Living Theater to break the boundaries of its traditional architecture was successful. It collapsed the art and life distinction, which has been of tremendous help by establishing one of the first recombinant stages. After all, only by examining everyday life through the frame of a dramaturgical model can one witness the poverty of this performative matrix. The problem is that effective resistance will not come from the theater of everyday life alone. Like the stage, the subelectronic--in this case the street, in its traditional architectural and sociological form--will have no effect on the privileged virtual stage. Consider the following scenario: A hacker is placed on stage with a computer and a modem. Working under no fixed time limit, the hacker breaks into data bases, calls up h/er files, and proceeds to erase or manipulate them in accordance with h/er own desires. The performance ends when the computer is shut down. This performance, albeit oversimplified, signifies the heart of the electronic disturbance. Such an action spirals through the performative network, nomadically interlocking the theater of everyday life, traditional theater, and virtual theater. Multiple representations of the performer all explicitly participate in this scenario to create a new hierarchy or representation. Within the virtual theater, the data structures that contain the electronic representation of the performer are disturbed through their manipulation or deletion. In order for electronic data to act as the reality of a person, the data "facts" cannot be open to democratic manipulation. Data loses privilege once it is found to be invalid or unreliable. This situation offers the resistant performer two strategies: One is to contaminate and call attention to corrupted data, while the other is to pass counterfeit data. Either way, the establishment of the utopian goal of personal reinvention through performative recombination begins to take a form beyond everyday life. Greater freedom in the theater of everyday life can be obtained, once the virtual theater is infiltrated. The liberation gained through the recombinant body can only exist as long as authoritarian codes do not disrupt the performance. For this to happen, the individual must have control of h/er image in all theaters, for only in this way can everyday life performance be aligned with personal desire. To make the above example more concrete, assume that the hacker is also a female to male cross-dresser. In the performance she accesses h/er identification files, and changes the gender data to "male." S/he leaves the stage, and begins a performance of gender selection on the street. This begins a performance with desire unchained in the theater of everyday life. The gender with which s/he identifies becomes the gender s/he actually is, for no contradictory data resource exists. This performance is not limited to a matter of costuming, but can also affect the flesh. Even biology will begin to collapse. To give an extreme example: Dressed as a man from the waist down, and using "masculine" gesture codes, the performer walks down the street shirtless. S/he is stopped by the police. The appearance of h/er breasts contradicts the desired gender role performance. The police access the electronic information that validates the performer's claim to be a man. The performer is released, since it is not illegal for a man to go shirtless. This performance could easily have gone the other way with the arrest of the performer, but that is extremely unlikely, because such action would require perception to override the data facts. To say the least, a performance like this is extremely risky. To challenge the codes and unleash desire is generally illegal, particularly as described here. Hacking draws the eye of discipline quickly; it is the best way to destabilize the reality and practical structure of all theaters. Yet these extreme examples outline the necessary steps needed for a postmodern theater of resistance. Effective performance as a site of resistance must utilize interlocking recombinant stages that oscillate between virtual life and everyday life. This means that the performer must cope with h/er electronic images, and with their techno-matrix. It is time to develop strategies that strike at virtual authority. As yet, there are none. Performers have been too mired in the traditional theater and the theater of everyday life to even realize how the virtual world acts as the theater of final judgment.