https://mnemozine.lu Mnemozine Wed, 29 Jan 2025 08:15:40 +0000 https://mnemozine.lu en https://mnemozine.lu/Contingent-Frames-2-3-Unexpected-and-Expected-Endings Wed, 29 Jan 2025 08:15:40 +0000 Mnemozine https://mnemozine.lu/Contingent-Frames-2-3-Unexpected-and-Expected-Endings 29.01.2025Contingent Frames 2/3 Unexpected and Expected EndingsMathieu Buchler <img width="1000" height="416" width_o="1000" height_o="416" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/b209d5e26b325397074214906865bd1438a420bbca6031c1c603159f4e1caab1/1_Vqde0Xjn5_0UPJIIFZ-uOQ.jpg" data-mid="225705310" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/b209d5e26b325397074214906865bd1438a420bbca6031c1c603159f4e1caab1/1_Vqde0Xjn5_0UPJIIFZ-uOQ.jpg" />©Gunpowder &amp; Sky This is a continuation of reflections I developed in an earlier article. Through a personal reading of films and series, I am exploring how surprises can play a ground-breaking role in our interactions with reality, for better or worse. In cinema, grossly unexpected events oftentimes shatter the expectations of viewership and cut the rope which suspends their disbelief. If a character's action comes out of the blue or the ending resembles a deus ex machina, the narrative construct and fictional theories spun by the viewer unwind, only to become tangled in utter confusion and dissatisfaction. However, if the surprise lands, the viewer's experience becomes meaningful and memorable precisely because it was unexpected and cleverly prepared. Commonly referred to as plot twists, such moments entirely redirect the viewer's understanding of the narrative by making them aware of a hitherto unrealised, unrecognised and utterly surprising seismic motion within the film's internal mechanism. Interestingly, such surprising scenes, often accidental bearers of meaning, afterwards feel like an absolute necessity in the stories' progression. Although plot twists as such generate insights into the functional role of the unexpected in films, this article will suggest that the most effective surprise takes place when it is, paradoxically, entirely expected. The article contains spoilers for The Usual Suspects (1995) and The Summer of 84 (2018). I. Repeated Reading What makes a good plot twist? Think of the film The Usual Suspects (1995) directed by Bryan Singer. In it, a small-time and physically disabled con-man called Roger "Verbal" Kint, played by Kevin Spacey, is interrogated by the police for his involvement in the burning of a ship docked in San Pedro Bay, which claimed 27 victims and was at the centre of drug-related crime. The majority of the film is told through Verbal's recollection of what took place in the weeks leading up to the ship's immolation. All seems to point to a mysterious Turkish crime boss named Keyser Söze. Dave Kujan, the U.S. Customs agent interrogating Verbal, connects the dots in Verbal's story and comes to the conclusion that Söze must be Dean Keaton, a career criminal and one of the victims claimed by the immolation. Kujan believes that Keating, being Söze, probably wanted to wipe his tracks by killing a smuggler onboard the ship who was able to identify him. Kujan then concludes that Keaton must have faked his own death on the ship and escaped disguised as Söze. Verbal corroborates Kujan's theory and his statement ultimately leads to his bail being set and his release. The twist of the story is as clever as it is unexpected. As Verbal leaves the police station, his hitherto cramped hand starts to loosen, and his limping leg regains its strength. His identity as the physically disabled Verbal was all an act. Kujan, glancing around the room after Verbal left, realises that the story he has just been told by Verbal, including any references to names, places and other events, had been entirely constructed by Verbal referring to random objects, names, newspaper clippings and other pieces of nominal inspiration strewn across Kujan's office.&nbsp; Looming behind Kujan is a typically adorned wall of a detective's office: photos of suspects, locations, inconsequential details, all pinned together into a seemingly random but perfectly meaningful mess revolving around Söze's identity. Fortuitiously picking out words and names from Kujan's wall, Verbal told him a cleverly spun piece of fiction. The common thriller trope of a detective connecting the dots of his chaotic evidence using a red thread is thus upended, with the criminal playfully pulling at the seams of the detective's meticulously constructed narrative of whom he is investigating. Kujan's coffee mug, which slips out of his hand as he realises who he has just let walk free, shatters alongside his reality. When reflecting on necessity and contingency, The Usual Suspects is an interesting philosophical playing field. Not only is Kujan taken by surprise once the final twist is revealed, but so is the viewer, whose entire experience of the film's plot has been orchestrated by Verbal's fictional account of Söze. The ground-shattering revelation that Verbal is not who he claimed to be throughout the film is experienced as a satisfying plot twist which rearranges the convoluted and mysterious story unfolding until that point and gives them a hitherto unrealised meaning. In an almost Hegelian movement, the dormant truth of the film's central mystery, absently present from the very beginning in the form of a lying protagonist, is revealed as an intrinsic element of the film's internal logic and only reveals itself once the motion is complete. Only at the end do we as viewers solve the mystery by working out a truth which has been lingering in Verbal's fiction-within-a-fiction. However, there is a downside to films which rely on their final resolution. Once the mystery is lifted, the pieces fall into place and remain there, motionless and without possibility to ever stir as stronlgy as they did before. A plot twist works as a singular surprise, a moment of momentary confusion turning into a static revelation. While there is of course beauty in rewatching such films in order to satisfy the curious desire to catch the action before the veil is lifted, for example by spotting moments which, for a knowing viewer, already give the ending away, the surprise itself is unable to be replicated. Viewing the film a second time is therefore not in any way an invigorating epistemological experience but rather a confirmation of an existing understanding. In a way, it aligns with Hegel's dialectical phrase, which, as Žižek often mentions, is only fully comprehensible when it is read a second time. II. An Expected Surprise What if we turned the notion of the plot twist on its head? The teen-horror-thriller Summer of 84 (2018), directed by Anouk Whissell, François Simard and Yoann-Karl Whissell, is a clear attempt to subvert expectations by cleverly leaning entirely on them. The film follows Davey Armstrong, a 15-year-old paperboy enthralled by conspiracy theories and the possibility of alien life. Evidently wanting to find magic in the mundane, he becomes fascinated by the possibility that his neighbour Wayne Mackey, a popular police officer in their hometown Ipswich, may be an infamous serial killer called the Cape May Slayer. When he first shares his theory with his friends Woody, Curtis and Eats, they shrug it off on account of his general fixation on dubious urban legends. However, when Davey tells them that he saw a boy who recently went missing in Mackey's home, the group decides to take matters into their own hands and bring down the policeman-turned-serial-killer, walkie-talkies and all. The film is, in general, rather inconsequential. It follows many teen adventure tropes taken from classic 80s flicks, such as The Goonies (1985), or copies of such films, for example Stranger Things (2016). Yet, the movie excels at one specific thing: creating surprise at the heart of something entirely expected. Summer of 84 does not attempt to hide the fact that Mackey could likely be the mysterious killer. While never showing him committing any incriminating act during the boys' investigation, we become fully immersed in the teens' paranoia. For instance, Mackey leads Davey to a locked door in his basement while the boy is helping him carry down a piece of furniture right at the beginning of the movie, immediately causing suspicion about what horrors could lie hidden behind such a door. In a later scene, Davey catches Mackey spying on him with binoculars through his window and later places a walkie-talkie that the boys had hidden away on his property to spy on him on his windowsill to signal that he's onto them. Throughout the film, thus, the viewer learns to mistrust Mackey and truly suspects him of being the killer. Even when the film offers plausible explanations for Mackey's strange behaviour, such as him buying pound upon pound of dirt for his gardening project rather than the burial of dead children, the suspicion never truly dissipates. Still, watching this film is akin to an episode of intense self-doubt. If you are somewhat versed in modern horror cinema, you expect recent releases to play with fundamental tropes. If the Goonies were a group of successful adventurous teens who snatch a pirate treasure out of the hands of experienced criminals, then it is almost to be expected that a 21st-century teen thriller would seek to subvert the notion that innocent children are capable of foiling the plan of a calculating murderer. Throughout the film, thus, you cannot but wonder if the directors are trying to take an unexpected turn by revealing the killer to be some unsuspected, innocent bystander, such as Davey's love interest, his attractive older neighbour Nikki, who, curiously, and to the surprise of everyone in Davey's friend group, starts inviting herself into his house to get to know him better. The genius twist of this film, however, is precisely the fact that it opts to see the story to its end without the need of a real twist at all. After taking the viewer through a winding array of pre-climactic scenes trying to highlight Mackey as a likeable cop and further instilling doubts about whether or not he is the killer, the film stays true to its original project: telling the story of an observant and slightly paranoid and inquisitive child who sees right through Mackey's overly friendly demeanor. Towards the end of the film, Davey, Willy and Nikki break into Mackey's house while he is at a town gathering celebrating him for supposedly catching the serial killer. The group enters the locked door in his basement only to confirm their suspicion in a horrific scene: they find the missing boy now dissolving in a bathtub filled with sodium hydroxide, as well as another kidnapped teenager whom they subsequently rescue. In a scene which harkens back to The Usual Suspects, the group returns to Mackey's living room and Davey realises, much like Kajun staring at his web of evidence, that the framed family pictures lining the wall don't depict Mackey and his family, but rather his many victims and their parents. To Davey's surprise, he sees a picture of himself beside his parents among them, confirming his fear that he may be the next target. What is interesting here is that the ground-breaking moment for Davey is not that he was wrong, but rather that he was entirely correct and that all his suspicions, previously considered outrageous by his parents and peers, were justified, retroactively giving them a haunting quality. From the very beginning of the film, Davey has been right, and the viewer, cautiously expecting this conclusion, still ends up surprised by a horrifying reality. After the resolution, the film moves to a scene which hints at a happy ending: Davey is back in the safety of his own home, his parents apologise for doubting him, he is hailed a hero and his best friend Willy sleeps over while the police hunt Mackey, who is now on the loose. It is within this entirely expected climax of Mackey being the killer and of Davey assuming the role of the hero that another likely twist takes place. Mackey has been hiding in Davey's attic and, once the house is asleep, kidnaps both boys before chasing them into the woods. The film's imagery rapidly increases in&nbsp; violence, with Mackey slicing Davey's heel while he's scurrying away and cutting Willy's throat as he is trying to run to his kidnapper's car in order to escape. Upon finding Willy, Davey is toppled by Mackey who instils in him the greatest of fears through a calculated, eery monologue which he whispers to him inches away from his face: All you had to do was leave me alone. This is your goddamn fault. [...] You stole my life. You did not need to be sorry. All I want to do is kill you. Isn't that enough for you? You have spent so much time thinking about me. I want you to keep thinking about me. I want you to imagine what I am going to do when I come back to you. And I am going to come back to you. After you've spent your life looking over your shoulder, after you've wondered every single day if that is the day that I'm going to come for you. One day, you'll be right. <img width="1920" height="1080" width_o="1920" height_o="1080" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/49f280c36a6cc1cf824f39a495855a021d2403059c37f1e7d8224d38749f689b/summer84-7.jpg" data-mid="225705312" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/49f280c36a6cc1cf824f39a495855a021d2403059c37f1e7d8224d38749f689b/summer84-7.jpg" />©Gunpowder &amp; Sky Davey is given a sentence which revolves around a suffocating paradox: an expected surprise. Rather than taking revenge on the boy for causing his downfall, Mackey announces his second coming as an event without a date, a return without a departure. He makes it perfectly clear to Davey that his retribution is guaranteed, but by barring him from knowing when the day will come, he subjects his life to the rule of an expected accident, an almost tantalising prospect that some day his life will suffer a gruesome end and that his existence will hitherto be marked by a dreadful sense of anticipation. What interests me in this film is how, as suggested earlier, it subverts the notion of the plot twist, excellently portrayed in The Usual Suspects, by turning a deducible, rational and logical reality into the horrifying twist itself. Once in the face of the child serial killer, all sense of meaning and hope gathered in Mackey's pursuit is lost and reality enters as a corrupt and cold-hearted cop, a sliced heel, a cut throat and a looming revenge. Davey, in wanting to unveil the real identity of the killer, comes face to face with the real in the shape of Mackey: Yes, you found out who I am, and now what? You've passed through the veil of illusion, you've successfully accessed a moment of truth, but this revelation is akin to a re-vealing, a repeated shrouding of clarity and a shiver-inducing realisation that, indeed, reality is exactly as harsh as you expected. No consolation comes after revelation, no comfort comes with knowledge. The very narrative spun upon reality bites back, even if it ended up being entirely accurate. Like Mackey's final monologue suggests, reality is a plan waiting to be foiled, a bad surprise to be expected. Lying on the floor, Davey is left to live a life under the header of a terrible fate. The viewer, at the very end of the film, is left with a similar feeling of dread. The build-up towards the climax was nothing other than a straightforward development to a reasonable conclusion which still ended up being truly haunting. The final scenes offer glimpses into a new reality: Davey cycling with his bandaged foot, Nikki driving off in her divorcing parents' car to start a new life elsewhere, Mackey's house being up for sale and Woody's presence lingering as a bittersweet memory. Facing the expected has led to the realisation that what remains is a fragmented, elusive and unsolvable web of threaded, eery questions. The surprise in Summer of 84 is not the fact that some unsuspected character turns out to be the killer, a possibility which is subtly teased throughout the film but ultimately only appears in a sceptical viewer's mind, but rather the fact that an expected conclusion can still end up utterly shattering you. Once Davey solves the mystery, all doubts are lifted, all suspicions confirmed and yet the expected outcome turns out to be the most surprising moment of the plot, offering no sigh of relief. Davey, who attempted to resolve the mystery and verify what he already expected by stumbling upon that one surprising piece of evidence which would satisfy his curiosity and give him a definitive answer about the killer's identity, is upended by the true horror of the film: unleashing the prospect of an ever-deferred, constantly and continuously expected and yet unexpected coming of a surprise.︎ Mathieu Buchler, co-founder of Mnemozine, studied philosophy at University College Dublin and at Freie Universität Berlin. He currently works as a writer, editor, photographer and teacher. He is co-director of Six Minutes Past Nine, curator at Safelight Paper and member of AICA Luxembourg.You can find more of his work here on Mnemozine, on his website mathieubuchler.com or on Instagram @mathieu.buchler. ︎previous https://mnemozine.lu/Reorganisation-Christophe-Rippinger Mon, 30 Oct 2023 07:32:41 +0000 Mnemozine https://mnemozine.lu/Reorganisation-Christophe-Rippinger 03.11.2023Reorganisation Christophe Rippinger Die Bifurkation des sozialen Raums ist gängige Praxis und überall beobachtbar, jederzeit. Der Mensch unterscheidet zwischen oben und unten, links oder rechts, wir oder sie, gut oder schlecht usw. Diese Liste ließe sich nahezu unendlich weiterführen. Die binäre Einteilung jedoch birgt ein Problem: was tun mit beobachtbaren Elementen, die sich weder eindeutig der einen noch der anderen Seite zuordnen lassen? Ich denke, das ist der Beginn der Differenzierung. Oder mehr sogar: der Reorganisation. Es gibt in liberalen Demokratien prinzipiell nur wenige Möglichkeiten, wie sich politische Ideen eingliedern lassen. Entweder wird etwas dem linken Spektrum zugeordnet oder eben dem rechten. Plötzlich jedoch werden linke Themen von den Rechten aufgegriffen. Unterschiede verschwimmen, der außenstehende Beobachter weiß nicht mehr, in welche Richtung die Parteien schauen. Wird dadurch die Unterscheidung von links und rechts im politischen Raum obsolet? Ich denke nicht. Eine Partei, die sich den Ideen der anderen annähert, tut dies in der Regel, weil sie sich dazu gezwungen sieht. Wer bei Wahlen schlecht abschneidet, tut besser daran, sich im Anschluss zu reorganisieren. Was ist denn nun links, und was ist rechts? Wenig überraschend handelt es sich dabei um einen kontingenten Sachverhalt. Es handelt sich bei diesen Begriffen um leere Signifikanten im Sinne Ernesto Laclaus. Diesen Begriffen werden so viele Bedeutungen zugerechnet, dass sie am Ende für alles stehen können, und damit zugleich für nichts mehr stehen. Sie erscheinen hohl, leer. Die Linke der Spätmoderne hat recht wenig mit der ursprünglichen Linken aus der Zeit der französischen Revolution zu tun. Die politischen Inhalte haben sich im Laufe der Jahrhunderte verändert und den gesellschaftlichen Bedürfnissen angepasst. Die Unterscheidung links/rechts fungiert als funktionale Schaffung von zwei konkurrierenden Lagern, die die Differenzierung vorantreiben soll. Differenzieren heißt Unterschiede machen. Und Unterschiede machen bedeutet, den Status Quo vermeiden. Wenn also links und rechts sich auf die Mitte zu bewegen, kann man die Frage nach einem dritten Weg im Sinne Anthony Giddens stellen. Vielleicht kündigt dieser Umstand jedoch lediglich an, dass die politischen Lager dabei sind, sich zu reorganisieren. Die leeren Signifikanten werden mit neuen Inhalten gefüllt, ansonsten droht ihnen das Ende. Differenzierung und Reorganisation lassen sich also auf zwei verschiedene Arten lesen. Die Differenz birgt implizit eine Differenz in sich. Die Ausdifferenzierung kann die leeren Signifikanten mit neuen Inhalten füllen und damit ihr Überleben sichern. Die Ausdifferenzierung kann jedoch auch dazu führen, dass eben durch sie die bestehende Unterscheidung obsolet wird. Die Unterscheidung mag dann nur noch einen historischen Wert haben. Doch was passiert in diesem Moment? Kommt es zu einer dritten Kategorie? Oder entsteht eine neue Einteilung des Spektrums in zwei Seiten? Ich denke, es lässt sich beides beobachten. Es kann sich eine außerparlamentarische Bewegung formieren, und im Anschluss parlamentarisch einverleibt werden. Als Beispiel ließe sich hier die Bewegung der Grünen nennen. Verlassen wir nun die Politik und schauen uns an, wie sich Reorganisation in anderen gesellschaftlichen Bereichen beobachten lässt. Biologisch gesehen gibt es zwei Geschlechter. Ob man der einen oder anderen Seite zugeordnet wird, hängt von der Keimzellenproduktion ab: produziere ich Ei- oder Samenzellen? Der soziale Raum erweitert dann diesbezüglich die Komplexität, Individuen mögen sich unter Umständen nicht mit einer der beiden Seiten identifizieren. Die Lösung scheint einfach, eine Reorganisation des sozialen Geschlechts hat zu einer dritten Kategorie geführt, dem sogenannten dritten Geschlecht. Das dritte Geschlecht als Form der Ausdifferenzierung hegt keinen Anspruch, Teil der bestehenden Bifurkation zu werden. Es handelt sich dabei auch nicht um eine Art dritter Weg, das heißt als eine Art Mischform, die sich durch Elemente beider Lager kennzeichnet. Stattdessen handelt es sich dabei um eine Differenzierung, die den Anspruch erhebt, auf Dauer Bestand zu haben. Das Dritte Geschlecht soll die bestehende Bifurkation ergänzen, die Dyade wird aufgelöst und ihr wird ein Element hinzugefügt. Wir haben es nach der Reorganisation also mit einer Triade zu tun, die vor allem in liberalen Demokratien vorzufinden ist. Autoritäre Regimes und Diktaturen scheinen es dagegen zu bevorzugen, an der bestehenden Bifurkation der Geschlechtsidentität festzuhalten. Eine frühe Form der Überwindung der binären Aufteilung des sozialen Raums lässt sich in der Wirtschaft beobachten. Das liegt vielleicht auch daran, dass die kapitalistische Wirtschaftsform auf Expansion und damit der Überwindung von Grenzen ausgelegt ist. Man macht sich den Kredit zunutze, indem man sagt, was der Kunde heute nicht zahlen kann, kann er morgen zahlen. Dass daraus schnell ein Zwang entstehen kann, lässt sich leicht erkennen. Der Kredit also sprengt die Status Quo Situation der Zahlungsfähigkeit/Unzahlungsfähigkeit des potenziellen Käufers. Der Kredit wird dabei gezielt so eingesetzt, dass der Kunde, der unzahlungsfähig ist, zu einem zukünftigen Zeitpunkt zahlungsfähig sein wird. Wir beobachten hier eine Triade, die die Wirtschaftsaktionen so umorganisiert, dass sie Handelsblockaden durch die Hinzunahme der Zeitdimension zu lösen sucht. Etwas komplexer zeigt sich die Situation in der Kunst. Sie ist wohl so alt wie die Menschheit selbst, doch die Vorstellungen darüber, was Kunst ist, haben sich im Laufe der Zeit stark gewandelt. Die bourgeoise Vorstellung von Kunst als etwas Ästhetisches ist Teil der Vergangenheit. Es scheint so, dass vor allem die zeitgenössische Kunst darum bemüht ist, Grenzen zu verschieben. Leitunterscheidungen werden oftmals erweitert zum Beispiel durch Kombination mit anderen Dualismen. Es reicht nicht, schön oder hässlich zu sein, es kann zudem sinnlos oder verboten sein. Dieses Überschreiten der Grenzen fördert die Reorganisation, weil sie Aspekte in den Vordergrund setzt, die ansonsten außen vor sind. Zudem werden verschiedene Kunstformen zusehends vermischt, Performance ist hier eines der Zauberwörter. Musik wird verbunden mit Film oder Tanz usw. Zeitgenössische Kunst versteht sich also per se als Triade, als Versuch, die Bifurkation zu durchbrechen. Was sie zeigt, war vorher ungesehen, und wenn sie dennoch auf Redundanz setzt, dann mit Vorsatz. Ansonsten würde man wohl daran zweifeln, inwiefern es sich dabei um Kunst handelt. Die Beispiele haben es gezeigt, Bifurkationen verbergen nicht selten dritte Elemente, die erst bei genauerer Betrachtung zum Vorschein kommen. Die Bifurkation muss sich in der Zeit bewähren, in ihr schlummert ein temporales drittes Element, dass neue Differenzierungen zum Vorschein bringen kann. Auch wenn die soziale Welt also binär kodiert erscheinen mag, mit der nötigen Zeit und Gestaltungsfreiheit lässt die Welt sich neu organisieren. Und nicht selten scheint es so, als sei eine Reorganisation der einzige Ausweg aus einer Situation, die festgefroren scheint. Die liberale Demokratie bildet dabei keine Ausnahme.︎ Christophe Rippinger, co-founder of Mnemozine, studies sociology at FernUni Hagen and is a writer and teacher. ︎previous https://mnemozine.lu/Can-You-Hear-Me-Gabrielle-Antar Sat, 22 Jul 2023 11:42:13 +0000 Mnemozine https://mnemozine.lu/Can-You-Hear-Me-Gabrielle-Antar 13.10.2023Can you hear me? Gabrielle Antar Society, the way I see it, can be divided into three categories: the first, the unattainable, the second, the individualist, and the third being the queer as fuck obviously. But, the point here is to deconstruct normality; to question the very norms that rip people’s voices out and silence them, and destroy whatever makes them feel unworthy of support, kindness and generosity. 1. The unattainable The first constitutes what has been ascribed as normal by the hegemonic decision-makers in our society. It is a fictional category that even those who have created it cannot adhere to. It is the impossible standard people try their whole lives to squeeze themselves into in vain. Just like Cinderella’s ugly step-sisters trying hopelessly to fit their huge imperfect feet into that unreal tiny glass shoe. When I speak of unattainability and impossibility, I speak of false promises and narratives put in place by an on-the-brink of collapse capitalist machine pushing us to believe that if we just work hard enough we will be successful. Yet, if you take a second to look around, you will know that this not-so-well-oiled machine has been advertising a promise they themselves cannot fulfil. People will one day, in a perhaps too hopeful attempt on my part, wake up from this well-structured nightmare and realize that productivity and success is not based on buying five Teslas (or coming up with the idea of a Tesla) but instead based on what good you bring to the people around you and how you decide to put an end to a generational lie that is killing our planet. The first category is, as I mentioned at the beginning, the glass slipper, the unreal; only existing in the narrative of your conditioned, brainwashed mind. It is the category of the dominant white old man, the boomer ideal of what you think things should be without taking the reality of humanity’s complexity into consideration. It is building something just to exclude others. It is throwing the door into your own face, thinking that by excluding everyone except “your kind” of people, you will be showered in profit and power. That perhaps is true for all those fuckers at the top of the food chain, but the only thing they are worthy of is a golden shower. I hope every person who reinforced this culture of “eat or be eaten” has unwanted piss dripping onto their face. And, I hope every decision-maker who prioritized profit instead of the good of the people has endless shit to wipe off their filthy capitalist hands. Okay, maybe I went to overboard with the angry curses? Perhaps. But, I am telling you if that were the case for every single one of them, indigenous populations would have their land returned to them, the environment, animals and plants alike, would be chilling instead of having to constantly survive every capitalist-made climate disaster, and, generally, people’s identities would be just that. Identities, not unattainable categories that make you feel unworthy of being a part of society. One would say, my thoughts are too utopian, too dreamy, and they are right. But, if we are going to make up fantastical exclusionary categories in society, shouldn’t they at least be cool? Nice? Enjoyable? Empowering? And relevant to the actual people that are part of this magnificent world? 2. The individualist The second category is for all the delusional people on this planet #special_tribute #yolo. It is for all those trying to force you into the first and destroying our existence for the sake of their individualistic life of “success”. But, who’s gonna tell them? Who’s going to tell them that running too close towards the light makes the rest of the world burn? Flying to close to the divinely golden idea of profit will make us all fall, testicles first, to the polluted ground? I think living at the epicentre of capitalist individualism in Luxembourg has maybe unscrewed a few of my revolutionary brain cells. Originating from a place where community and generosity of spirit is ever-present, it is difficult to have to integrate into a space so void of the infamous joie de vivre. It is somehow a culture shock that I have not yet become accustomed to. A systematic error of embodying collectivism has just not been able to compute with my neighbors’ coldness. It is so odd to exit the door of my home to see the people who I share my street with. It is odd to see how when we lock eyes, as any person curious enough to see who else lives near them, there is no ability to say ‘hello’. Usually, I see them while they are walking past me, and when I realize we have crossed looks, I smile and say hello respectfully. Their reaction? A computing error, where their cyborg knock-off of a human glitches endlessly. They just do not have the social ability to respond, as if saying ‘hello’ to a total stranger is just too strange for their mind to comprehend. And their fear of the unfamiliar, aka the other person who is living on their street, is just too much for them to process in their feeble individualistic mind. That’s the city life I guess. So many other glitches in the system here in this bizarre country where you really only look out for yourself. The second category has truly been embraced in this kind of chilly society where after the sun sets, everyone quietly isolates in their big homes, and when you walk in these gloomy streets with no sound to be made. Everyone must be hunched in their expensive but uncomfortable furniture counting their money and making sure not one penny has been missed, because how else will you buy yourself another Porsche if you are losing time saying hi to a neighbor when you’ve got all that cash money waiting to be calculated. Upon reflection and various conversation, and maybe also too much time in the grayness of this small nation, I understood that individualism is a part of western culture. Nobody needs to call someone to help them get out of a speeding ticket when you have all the money in the world to pay that not-even-going-to-look-at-the-price fine. As we all know, money can solve a good majority of our daily issues. Money has allowed people to look out only for themselves. Money is the foundation of individualism. In a world where money is no longer the commodity that it is today, people will be put back into a position where community support is necessary for survival. However, even if money won’t turn back into the worthless paper it actually is at midnight, I think it is a strange but beautiful thing to acknowledge how important community, and not individualism, is the kind of green flag and healthy support system we are all striving to end up in? Besides my never-ending philosophical questioning, my point is actually pretty simple (surprise surprise). All I am trying to say here is that I wish more people would smile and say hello when we cross paths. After all, everyone can benefit from a bit more kindness on their way to their soul-sucking job. 3. The queer AF I feel like anyone who has reached this point of my sophisticated rant will be aware that I reek of frustrations and annoyances. But, you have been patient enough to see the promising establishment of the third, the final category in this essay of reflections, the blossoming classification that exudes potential for all future generations. The most inclusive category to exist is dubbed by the resilient concept of queerness. Queerness not as in the naïve and basic idea of just being gay. This is not a critique of gayness but rather shedding light on the potential of having this category represent a diverse set of experiences that encompasses all those who do not fit in. Regardless of what makes you feel excluded, know that the concept of queerness is where you will feel home again. Queerness is the deconstruction of all the normalized features of our society. It opens with welcoming arms every person who is not enough. It provides a safe space to all those who have been left to fend for themselves in an unjust system of egocentrism. Being queer is exactly what it means: the odd, the abnormal or the weird, but all of this in the best sense. By this I mean that if you do not fit into the first or the second, the queer offers you the realm of possibilities to question, challenge, deconstruct and reconstruct a reality where your exclusion empowers you to see how your unique abilities are the key to unlock a world where you are free and embraced with love and generosity, demolishing an era of individualism and capitalist-led horror. So, pick up the frustration that has been lying, ignored and disregarded, in the corner of your mental room, dust off the sadness and anger and see the glowing light that shines through it. See how your pain of being rejected by the unattainable demands of today’s society can be used as a weapon to build a new world. A world where differences are not only celebrated, but also the norm, where the abnormal is the standard model of the future. We are all the imperfect foot of Cinderella’s ugly step-sister, and it is about time to rave out in an anarchic, improvised, and radical dance of the souls honoring all that is odd and flawed, so that the next generations always feel that their reality is the revolution that we have all been waiting for.︎ Gabrielle Antar, a Luxembourgish-Lebanese writer, has spent most of her life in Lebanon. Formerly a journalist, she now channels her writing to advocate for causes close to her heart, from anti-capitalism to queer transnational feminist liberation. Her mission: to mainstream the idea that “the personal is political.” ︎previous https://mnemozine.lu/Challenging-the-Binaries-of-Nature-and-Culture-Joe-Birchen Sat, 22 Jul 2023 11:42:18 +0000 Mnemozine https://mnemozine.lu/Challenging-the-Binaries-of-Nature-and-Culture-Joe-Birchen 13.10.2023 Challenging the Binaries of Nature and Culture: Against Manichaean Thinking (and Hybridism) Joé Birchen One of the most unravelling questions about nature concerns its relationship with the human and cultural. Can humans be considered part of nature, and consequently form one unity? Or do we set forth a divide, which sees both as two strictly seperate realms? In the following paragraphs, I will argue that there is more to the relation between nature and culture than a matter of mere opposition. In ecophilosophical thought, the constructivist viewpoint underlines the tensions between the cultural and the natural. Here, any notions of ‘authentic’ nature are rejected. Philosopher Kate Soper refers to it as the ‘nature-skeptical’ approach, reminding us that it is a theory mostly influenced by post-structuralism which is “loathe to recognise any independent natural determinations” of ‘nature’, underlining only “its culturally constructed or purely discursive status” (The Politics, 48). In this light, nature always remains an ‘artifact of culture’, rendering any perceptive distinction between humans and nature redundant. Well yes, there will always be a natural or physical environment other to us, but separating ourselves from its concept becomes unnecessary: we spoil it as soon as we touch it. This, however, encourages an understanding of the natural environment as a source of truth and authenticity. If there is something to spoil, there must be something pure too. It refers to what Soper named ‘nature-endorsing’ theories, building on a ‘deeper green disposition’, which sees nature as ‘pure’ and being of ‘intrinsic value’ to humans. It is a thread that runs through various essentialist ecologies, which advocate the “preservationist and heritage impulse [that] speaks of [...] a more harmonious order in time [and] a more natural way of living of the past” (The Politics, 54). It is a way of living synonymous with the romanticisation of the environment, which invokes a sense of belonging to nature, and nature belonging to us. It is another thought, which endorses a link between humans and the outside world, consequently paving the way for what the cultural critic John Ruskin called the ‘pathetic fallacy’. This term describes the belief that emotions and feelings, thus consequently human minds, can be merged with external reality, creating bonds between the entities of the outside and inside, or the human and natural. It corresponds to nothing else than a discourse put on Nature. To this, Soper adds that “an exclusive emphasis on ‘discourse’, signification and the construction of nature can very readily appear evasive of ecological realities and irrelevant to the task of addressing them” (The Politics, 50). Paradoxically, for Soper, it is the construction of discourse, as addressing and pointing at objects that constitute ‘nature’, and our attachment to it, which simultaneously detaches us from it. Interestingly, in this attaching and detaching, humans and nature seem like two different magnets, which at the same time repel and attract each other. When we ‘other’ ourselves from Nature, we attribute a certain purity to it, where it receives the characteristic of being untouched by us, marked by a natural sterility and a realm of her own. This happens when we consider nature as being distinct from humanity, but strangely also when we consider nature as the ‘domain of intrinsic value’, and our place of belonging, thus emphasising our touch upon it. The sterility coexists entirely with the idea that Nature is the absolute origin of humanity, implying that Nature is part of us and that we are part of her. These incessant attempts at escaping ‘nature’, and our returning thoughts on it, raise the evidence of a proper Möbius strip. Dark ecology suggests that this strip - ontological reflections on the relationship between the environment and human - can be best understood when Nature is left out of the equation. Timothy Morton explains in his book Dark Ecology: For a Logic of Future Coexistence (2016) that “[e]cological awareness is a loop because human interference has a loop form, because ecological and biological systems are loops. And ultimately this is because to exist at all is to assume the form of a loop” (6). Being aware of our natural environment means valuing, but simultaneously protecting its resources and knowing our detrimental influence on it. This ouroboros predestines the looping effect of human interference, which, for instance, can be best demonstrated with climate change and its effects: humans change landscapes, because of this we interfere with the carbon storage reservoirs, which alters the carbon cycle, and eventually results in climate change. The effects of climate change, such as global warming and floods, result again in a change in landscapes, which influences our interference with the environment. So the end comes back to its beginning. Morton adds that “for every seeming forward motion of the drill bit there is a backward gyration, an asymmetrical contrary motion” (7). According to that logic, every detrimental influence on the environment will have an effect which will be felt and to which we will adapt. Our relation to the planet only makes sense, argues Morton, when meditations on Nature are left out, necessitating, in his words, an ‘ecology without nature’. Here the ‘nature’ and culture divide becomes dispensable, as Nature will always be without ecology, thus without any substantial environment to which we can relate. Nature will always be the ‘other’ and consequently distance itself from ecology - which is nothing else than a discourse put on Nature - and any other theories on ourselves and the relation to our physical environment. Trying to know Nature will leave a shadow on it, a veil which we can never see through, but which builds that untouched, pure and unknowable spot that Nature exists with, or what ‘real’ Nature is at all. In the dark ecological loop that Morton describes, everything is “suffused with and surrounded by mysterious hermeneutical clouds of unknowing” (6). The ‘clouds of unknowing’ refer to the ‘weird weirdness’ and confusion that arises when we think about the loop and the force of the ‘asymmetrical contrary motion’. But how do we make sense out of the distinction between the environment and the human, when we are able to change landscapes and the climate - domains we refer to as ‘nature’ - and what do we make out of the fact that the environment influences how we act, and therefore also who we are? This whirling loop troubles any clarity of ontological questions that concern the nature and culture divide, which makes one assume that the divide is more permeable than we have ever thought. We remain in the same strange paradox that nature and culture are not divided, but divided at the same time. When we have an influence on something, we have an influence on something other, which is not us. Nevertheless, the other is prone to be reappropriated. Morton writes that “[t]he Anthropocene names two levels we usually think are distinct: geology and humanity”, adding that “[s]ince the late eighteenth century humans have been depositing layers of carbon in Earth’s crust” (7-8). He suggests that, through our influence and its ‘strange loop’ form, the environment, ‘nature’, and geology turn into a creation of ours. In an entry to the International Encyclopedia of Human Geography (2020), geophilosopher Nigel Clark states “that it is vital to consider one’s social positioning or local environment when making theoretical or practical interventions, [just as it is equally] important that we do not take for granted the kind of planet we inhabit or the moment in deep geological history at which we find ourselves” (144). Meditations on the ‘social positioning’ and environment feed the dialogue between humans and nature. Clark and Kathryn Yusoff write in their article Geosocial Formations and the Anthropocene (2017) that this dialogue is attuned to the Anthropocene thesis, claiming that “humans have become geological agents” (5), adding that there are “moves under way to open the very categories of the social, the cultural, the political, the historical to the forces of the earth” (6). Hence, the Anthropocene merges the two distinct ‘levels’ of nature and culture into one, consequently reinforcing Morton’s strange loop. According to that logic, the back and forth of our ecological awareness and the reciprocal relationship between humans and our environment contribute to a symbiosis of the latter two. It is a symbiosis, appealing to the Gaia Hypothesis, coined by chemist James Lovelock and explained by philosopher Bruno Latour, who sees “the Earth [as] a totality of living beings and materials that were made together, that cannot live apart, and from which humans can’t extract themselves”. This strongly speaks in favour of hybridism, a theory which suggests an intermingling of the cultural and natural, consequently deleting their referents. But still: there is more than only one, and climate change delivers the necessary evidence. Considering Morton’s logic, one can argue that climate change is anthropogenic and results in nature, which makes us, to a certain extent, the creators of our environment. However, this is a syllogism, with hidden dangers of which we need to be aware. Journalist Naomi Klein asserts that “we have learned from atmospheric science [that] the essence of all relationships in nature was not eliminated with fossil fuels” elucidating that “it was merely delayed, all the while gaining force and velocity” (175). Thus, ‘nature’ and our relationship to it cannot be driven out so easily. In The Progress of This Storm: Nature and Society in a Warming World (2018), activist-philosopher Andreas Malm asks: “If I cut and mould wood into a bookcase, I have undoubtedly built that bookcase - but if I cut a branch off a tree, have I also built that tree?” (37). This means, in other words, that we did not create nature itself. Science tells us that climate change is heavily influenced by CO2 emissions, and with our contribution to these emissions we change the carbon cycle of the planet. But this does still not make us the creators of the carbon or oxygen atom. Here, we use nature to degenerate nature, but do not make it. Criticising the post-structuralist idea that nature only exists through discourse, Andreas Malm underlines that “global warming is not a discourse. It trivialises the suffering it generates to see it as a text. The excessive temperatures are not a piece of rhetoric” (22). With that, ‘time’ can be empirically measured, and the (damaged) environment certainly exceeds the realm of the constructed. He adds that climate change is a “great blender and trespasser, [sweeping] back and forth between the two regions traditionally referred to as ‘nature’ and ‘society’” (15). It does this, as we have seen, with its influence on nature. However, as long as both can be distinguished from one another, nature needs to be accepted as a category of its own (43). It “really is nature that comes roaring back into society [...] knocking on the door of the postmodern condition - occasionally breaking it down, crashing through glass, sweeping away screens” (77). Thus, nature can bite back. Or, how the Roman poet Horace once put it, “naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret”: You can drive out nature with a pitchfork, but she will always return. This leaves us with a very strange dynamic and relationship between our two notorious binaries. As we have seen, nature as a physical environment manifests its own sphere, even if we influence it. And in Western hermeneutics, the social construct of nature is always a representation of something untouched by representation. Kate Soper elucidates this in her book What Is Nature? (1995) while she states that “Nature is that which Humanity finds within itself, and to which it in some sense belongs, but also that from which it seems excluded in the very moment in which it reflects upon either its otherness or its belonging” (49). Nature, then, is always escaping its own definition, it can never really be grasped or touched, whether this be in a philosophical or environmental and physical context. We are left with an eternal back and forth when it comes to the scrutiny of nature and culture. What is clear is that the answers go into more than two directions. The residue which remains is a rumbling, a noise, or even a feeling. It is a new space that opens up, similar to the effect of two different views on a river, as described by philosopher Edward Casey: “Seen from a sufficient height, [the river] resembles a line drawn in planiform space. But the closer one comes to the river itself, the less likely a strictly linear representation is able to capture its natural coursing and seasonal variability” (8). Upon closer inspection, the river is not just a line or a border between two states: it has space between its banks, which forms an important part of an ecosystem. There is more to a river than its two banks, and as we have seen, there is more to the binaries of nature and culture, too. In the turbid waters and between two entities lies the relation: the third element of two different regions and one land. ︎ Joé Birchen studied Literary and Cultural Analysis at University of Amsterdam. He works as a freelance journalist for the departments of culture and music at the public service radio station in Luxembourg. Bibliography: Casey, S. Edward. The World on Edge. Indiana University Press, 2017. Clark, Nigel, and Kathryn Yusoff. “Geosocial Formations and the Anthropocene.” Theory, Culture &amp; Society, vol. 34, no. 2-3, 2017, pp. 3–23, DOI: 10.1177/0263276416688946. Clark, Nigel. “Anthropocene.” International Encyclopedia of Human Geography, 2020, pp. 139–145, DOI: 10.1016/b978-0-08-102295-5.10503-7. Klein, Naomi. This Changes Everything. Penguin Books, 2015. Malm, Andreas. The Progress of This Storm: Nature and Society in a Warming World. Verso, 2018. Morton, Timothy. Dark Ecology: For a Logic of Future Coexistence. Columbia University Press, 2016. Soper, Kate. “The Politics of Nature: Reflections on Hedonism, Progress and Ecology”. Capitalism Nature Socialism, vol. 10, no. 2, 1999, pp. 47–70, DOI:10.1080/10455759909358857. Soper, Kate. What Is Nature? Blackwell, 1995. ︎previous https://mnemozine.lu/Creativity-as-Practice-In-Defense-of-Bad-Art Fri, 13 Jan 2023 15:29:48 +0000 Mnemozine https://mnemozine.lu/Creativity-as-Practice-In-Defense-of-Bad-Art 28.08.2023Creativity as Practice: In Defense of “Bad” Art Jessica Lentz <img width="3584" height="2004" width_o="3584" height_o="2004" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/da345e7c876f87bc4de83dc92ed7751d6296ed931607d7b0faac2c8af5605319/Screenshot-2023-08-26-at-09.44.11.png" data-mid="188936617" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/da345e7c876f87bc4de83dc92ed7751d6296ed931607d7b0faac2c8af5605319/Screenshot-2023-08-26-at-09.44.11.png" /> This year, I’ve started submitting more of my writings and getting them published here and there – an experience which, to me, has simultaneously felt incredibly fulfilling and also unbelievably vulnerable. It takes so much courage to put our creations out into the world and, all too often, we place way too much importance on how they are received by others and/or compare ourselves to more established creatives. In this vein, I wrote 2 poems called Cotton Candy Dream Land (A Dreamer’s Paradise) and An Ode to Cheap Art: in their own ways, they meditate on the importance of art-making and shift the emphasis from the “finished product” to the creative process itself, as well as to the emotions that come with making and/or receiving art. I do not think of creativity as an intrinsic quality a person is born with, but rather as a practice that is worth being pursued as and of itself: it allows us to enter the realm of personal expression, feeling and dreaming. So: I dare you to create! - Jessica Lentz Cotton Candy Dream Land an ode to cheap art sometimes you will encounter poems full of clichés, spelling mistakes and typos, with endings hanging off them like frills or art exhibitions in dark backrooms, with black-and-white photographs taped on walls, blurry images blurring even more in front of your drunk eyes or movies with plot holes like craters, mediocre actors, low budgets and even lower ratings, entire stories hanging onto a singular thread of tooth floss yet these works of art will sparkle, rising from nothingness, screaming regardless in your face, stamping their feet violently, shifting something in you to let in their strange light, shining it relentlessly onto your heart, and you will treasure them like the most precious of gemstones, for what is the value of art, if not to make us feel for the length of a moment? ︎ Jessica Lentz is originally from Luxembourg and currently studies literature at the University of Amsterdam. She enjoys creative writing and experiments with visual art as well. ︎previous https://mnemozine.lu/Season-II-The-Third-Editorial Sun, 28 Aug 2022 11:03:09 +0000 Mnemozine https://mnemozine.lu/Season-II-The-Third-Editorial AnnouncementSeason II: The Third <img width="2546" height="1490" width_o="2546" height_o="1490" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/49ea624001180eafe14cf2e612e70802503f6aff66cb0bc86250a28fd9831145/Screenshot-2023-01-14-at-10.26.17.png" data-mid="164684826" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/49ea624001180eafe14cf2e612e70802503f6aff66cb0bc86250a28fd9831145/Screenshot-2023-01-14-at-10.26.17.png" /> Editorial Last spring we brainstormed ideas to find a new theme for the second season of Mnemozine. After many unsatisfying leads, the term ‘the third’ was cast into the room out of comic necessity. Why not skip the second issue and concentrate on what really matters: the third issue! However, this joke, like a die unexpectedly landing on one of its edges, slowly shifted into an attractive proposal and gave form and matter to our hitherto abstract deliberations. It is almost as if the initial joke (skip the second, focus on the third) carried with it the clarity of a general truth: the access ( from a starting point, the one ) to any thing ( the second ) seems be intercepted by a constitutive distorting layer ( the third ) which, paradoxically, gives the second its shape. After all, how are we to discuss that which revolves around the number two (dualism, balance, opposition, conflict, intersubjectivity, sequence, …) without some reference to a third, mediating element: the relation between the first and the second? Against all sequential logic, the third seems prior to the second, the relation before the related. Focussing on this threefold structure, our second season will thus attempt to delve into the disorienting noise of ‘the third’ as that which stands between, subverts, shifts and reshapes, welcomes in, acts as a threshold and creates transformative openings from one towards another. We are inviting philosophers, writers, artists and musicians from diverse backgrounds to explore these questions based on their own research and practice and to relate it to notions of identity, politics, art, phenomenology and embodiment, sensory experience, sound studies, perception, reality, psychoanalysis, hermeneutics, sociology, architecture/urbanism, ecology, etc. in order to reflect upon the rogue element or inherent outsider that is the number three. The result of this research will be published in September 2023. In the context of the new season, we are also launching Mnemosonic, a subproject investigating relationality through sound and music. Throughout the entire year, we will collaborate with partners to host events which will further unravel this season’s theme and seek to offer a public framework for dialogue (trialogue?), experimentation and collective creation.︎ Mnemozine ︎previous https://mnemozine.lu/Mnemosonic Fri, 13 Jan 2023 15:39:00 +0000 Mnemozine https://mnemozine.lu/Mnemosonic Announcement <img width="1566" height="1768" width_o="1566" height_o="1768" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a3e1bbc72b56a4ab53c05a7ffacb8bd879d7d8227ce8faf63885760009559104/Screenshot-2023-01-13-at-16.44.48.png" data-mid="164617494" border="0" data-scale="16" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a3e1bbc72b56a4ab53c05a7ffacb8bd879d7d8227ce8faf63885760009559104/Screenshot-2023-01-13-at-16.44.48.png" />For its second season “The Third”, Mnemozine is excited to announce its new sub-project oriented towards sound and music, Mnemosonic. We will kick off this project with a series of experimental concerts focused on the acoustemological potential of relationality through vibrations. Each third will explore one type of vibration, examining how networks of vibrational relations grow and evolve into acoustic structures. We will explore the thirds, these relational lines of flight emerging in-between the first and the second. Ultimately, we will seek to sketch the contours of a sonic cartography of thirds. For the first third, we will investigate how musicians listen, react, and respond through their instruments to other musicians playing in other rooms, exploring the emergence of sonic relations relying solely on the interaction with mechanic vibrations. Join us on the 28.01.23 at 19:00 at Casino Display for an evening of experimental, improvised sounds. Mnemozine ︎previous https://mnemozine.lu/Event-Review-An-Acoustemological-Study-in-Three-Thirds-2-3-Electronic Mon, 10 Apr 2023 07:37:39 +0000 Mnemozine https://mnemozine.lu/Event-Review-An-Acoustemological-Study-in-Three-Thirds-2-3-Electronic <img width="1566" height="1768" width_o="1566" height_o="1768" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a3e1bbc72b56a4ab53c05a7ffacb8bd879d7d8227ce8faf63885760009559104/Screenshot-2023-01-13-at-16.44.48.png" data-mid="174788931" border="0" data-scale="25" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a3e1bbc72b56a4ab53c05a7ffacb8bd879d7d8227ce8faf63885760009559104/Screenshot-2023-01-13-at-16.44.48.png" /> Event ReviewAn Acoustemological Study in Three Thirds 2/3 Electronic Vibrations “An Acoustemological Study in Three Thirds - 2/3 Electronic Vibrations” was a live sonic experiment performed at Casino Luxembourg with Mnemozine members Charles Rouleau, Max Gindt and selected artists Claude Petit and Kevin Muhlen. Using four inter-connected modular synthesisers, the artists created an hour-long soundscape oscillating between harmonious humming and visceral noise. Part of our investigation of relationality, understood as the term “the Third”, the performance sheds light on rogue, contingent interactions within a set parameter. ︎previous https://mnemozine.lu/An-Acoustemological-Study-in-Three-Thirds-3-3-Mnemonic-Vibrations Sun, 23 Jul 2023 10:01:46 +0000 Mnemozine https://mnemozine.lu/An-Acoustemological-Study-in-Three-Thirds-3-3-Mnemonic-Vibrations <img width="1566" height="1768" width_o="1566" height_o="1768" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/a3e1bbc72b56a4ab53c05a7ffacb8bd879d7d8227ce8faf63885760009559104/Screenshot-2023-01-13-at-16.44.48.png" data-mid="185834222" border="0" data-scale="25" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/a3e1bbc72b56a4ab53c05a7ffacb8bd879d7d8227ce8faf63885760009559104/Screenshot-2023-01-13-at-16.44.48.png" /> An Acoustemological Study in Three Thirds3/3 Mnemonic Vibrations <img width="1920" height="1920" width_o="1920" height_o="1920" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/fbf37f09f0ce4b5adc70fa14dcb5870e3a3fa269e031de72d7cb1eceae71aeb2/Insta-post-1_.png" data-mid="185834231" border="0" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/fbf37f09f0ce4b5adc70fa14dcb5870e3a3fa269e031de72d7cb1eceae71aeb2/Insta-post-1_.png" /> Mnemonic vibrations are sounds, ideas and memories re-emerging from the past. They bridge the gap between what has been experienced and what is experienced, reigniting lingering feelings for what once was. For this final third in their series of acoustemological interventions, Mnemozine will explore how temporalities merge within the timelessness of sonic worlds. Join the event: 27.07.23 - 7pm - Casino Luxembourg ︎previous https://mnemozine.lu/2022-Jahresruckblick-Satire-Nein-Danke-Wladimir-und-die-starken Sat, 13 Aug 2022 14:14:08 +0000 Mnemozine https://mnemozine.lu/2022-Jahresruckblick-Satire-Nein-Danke-Wladimir-und-die-starken 06.01.2022 2022 Jahresrückblick Satire - Nein Danke! Liberal bis zum bitteren Ende: Wladimir und die starken Männer Traudich Sohnemann <img width="2250" height="1500" width_o="2250" height_o="1500" data-src="https://freight.cargo.site/t/original/i/eb35a90f96bfc24f51aaefd460ee38f778a21025c78e525831a59d75e9f9a181/wikinger.jpeg" data-mid="152140725" border="0" data-scale="66" src="https://freight.cargo.site/w/1000/i/eb35a90f96bfc24f51aaefd460ee38f778a21025c78e525831a59d75e9f9a181/wikinger.jpeg" /> Ein Foto des ersten Russen überhaupt. Kiew gehörte einst zu Russland. Wladimir Boudin erinnert sich. Welchen Liberalismus könnte man eigentlich noch erfinden? Wie wäre es mit einem Liberalismus, der sich an einer fiktiven Vergangenheit orientiert und auf eine Gruppe von Menschen zurückgreift, der ein Wir-Gefühl unterstellt wird, und der dieser Gruppe alle möglichen Freiheiten zuspricht, während er alle anderen bloß als Mittel zum Zweck benutzt? Das gibt es nicht, meinen Sie? Gibt es wohl! Willkommen in Russland! Der Geschichtskenner und Präsident Wladimir Boudin (Boudin heißt im französischen in ungefähr so viel wie “schlaffe Wurst”) ist der Designer eines Liberalismus zwischen Fantasie und Nostalgie. Bei seiner Suche nach den Ur-Russen stieß er auf die Wikinger, die durch fremde Länder zogen und sich alles unter die Nägel rissen, was nicht von dreiköpfigen Drachen verteidigt wurde. Dabei ritten sie auf riesigen Mammuts und trugen Helme mit bunten Hörnern in den Russland-Farben. Bei Bedarf kamen ihnen von Gott gesandte Drachenwesen zur Hilfe und brannten ganze Dörfer nieder. Auch die Geschlechterrollen waren klar verteilt. Während die Männer sich ums Plündern und Erobern kümmerten, blieben die Frauen gemütlich zu Hause und leisteten unbezahlte Reproduktionsarbeit. Dabei kümmerten sie sich um Sklaven und Kinder und lästerten anstandslos über ihre Männer oder aber und oder auch trauerten sie um die Gefallenen. “Es gab eine Zeit, da war Russland noch ein großes Land. Auch heute noch ist Russland groß, freilich. Aber ein großer Teil davon sind bloß Schnee und Chinesen. Wir wollen jedoch wieder ein Russland, das stolz auf sich sein kann. Eine Welt, in der alle Menschen wissen, dass sie Russen sind.” Es darf dabei nicht vergessen werden, dass Wladimir Boudin fast so alt wie der amerikanische Präsident Bidon ist. Seine Senilität könnte deshalb auch Mitgrund für seine verzerrten Erinnerungen und seine verzogenen Einschätzungen bezüglich des russischen Wir-Gefühls sein. Es bleibt also zu hoffen, dass der Fantasie-Liberalismus nur eine ephemere Erscheinung bleibt. Traudich Sohnemann, geboren in Gelsenkirchen, Deutschland. Er studierte viel, doch vor allem lang und hart. ︎back