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166 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 1, 2012
The year 1977 was a watershed: from the age of human evolution the world shifted to the age of de-evolution, or de-civilization. What had been built through labor and social solidarity began to be dissipated by a rapid and predatory process... in the second decade of C21, post-bougeois dilapidation took the final form of a financial black hole. Adrainage pump started to swallow and destroy the product of 200 years of industriousness and collective intelligence...Indeed. But I'm finding it difficult to process my feelings about the positions Steyerl takes in relation to this situation.
I have repeatedly argued that one should not seek to escape alienation but on the contrary embrace it as well as the status of objectivity and objecthood that goes along with it(I think I read a review of one of Roland Barthes' books recently that expressed astonishment at the profundity of his parenthetical remarks - Steyerl's most startling conclusions, including this one, are often found in her footnotes, like Einstein's E=mc^2) But what am I to make of this? Where do I begin my response? Well, as always I will have to begin from where I am. And I have a sneaking suspicion that Steyerl has described the terrain around me, white female disgruntled freelance worker, all too accurately...
History, as [Walter] Benjamin told us, is a pile of rubble. Only we are not staring at it any longer from the point of view of Benjamin's shell-shocked angel. We are not the angel. We are the rubble. We are this pile of scrap
Though the position of the subject suggests a degree of control, its reality is rather one of being subjected to power relations. . . . But as the struggle to become a subject became mired in its own contradictions, a different possibility emerged. How about siding with the object for a change? . . . A desire to become this thing--in this case an image--is the upshot of the struggle over representation. Senses and things, abstraction and excitement, speculation and power, desire and matter actually converge within images.
Here is the bad news: political art routinely shies away from discussing [labor related and immediately present] matters. . . . the conditions of its own production and display remain pretty much unexplored. . . . If politics is thought of as the Other, happening somewhere else, always belonging to disenfranchised communities in whose name no one can speak, we end up missing what makes art intrinsically political nowadays: its function as a place for labor, conflict, and ... fun