Gianni Pettena, About Non-Conscious Architecture, 1972 (via aqqindex)
(Source: aqqindex, via fyeahsouthwesterngothic)
“We have already been led to our slaughter — it is all around us. The world in which we exist is a protracted death, a sort of economically-sustained limbo in which hearts are permitted to beat only to the extent that they can facilitate the upward stream of capital. The plague of domestication has reached into every wild space, and the lines of colonization have crossed us more times than we can count. Every unproductive aspect of the biosphere has been flagged for eradication, from the “beam-trawled ocean floors” to the “dynamited reefs” to the “hollowed-out mountains,”’ the highest calibers of technology are locked into a perpetual killing spree chugging along in a “monotonous rhythm of death.” We who still have air in our lungs are the living dead, and struggle daily to remember what it feels like to be alive, holding tightly to the “desire for wildness that the misery of a paycheck cannot allay.” We roam the desolate architecture of our slaughter houses (“the prison of civilization we live in”) like ghosts who feel but cannot quite understand the vapidity of our existence. To borrow some apt phrases from the Conspiracy of Cells of Fire: we have become thoroughly integrated into “a system that crushes us on a daily basis”, that “controls our thoughts and our desires through screens” and “teaches us how to be happy slaves” while letting us “consider ourselves free because we can vote and consume”, and all the while, “we, like cheerful Sisyphus, are still carrying our slavery stone and think this is life.” As an American Iraq war veteran-turned-strategy consultant wrote in the New York Times in 2013: “The biggest problem we face is a philosophical one: understanding that this civilization is already dead.” The extent to which we have internalized the rhythms, values, and stories of this civilization “ties our future to [this] undead and all-devouring system.” Then perhaps a better question might be: Why are we continuously being led to our slaughter like sheep? To which many of us simply reply: We aren’t.”— Blessed is the Flame
(via civilizationkills)
Anni Albers (German-American, 1889 - 1994)
retrospective @ The Tate Modern, London
Another End of the World Is Possible: Indigenous Solidarity and Blocking Extractive Infrastructure in Canada » Montréal Counter-information
Not only can blockades “shut down the world”, they also open up space for a new one to be built, or in the case of colonized peoples, a world restored. We can look to many of the indigenous blockades or occupations of the last several decades for the examples of ceremonial, culinary, and other socially reproductive practices that point toward new ways of living which are themselves produced through resistance. Similarly, we see the revitalization of warrior culture being expressed at Standing Rock and other moments of indigenous revolt to be indicative of a broader possibility of life without the state or capitalism.[…]
We hold evident that blockades are a crucial tactic in our war against planetary annihilation. […] With this tactical imperative, we call on all warriors and revolutionaries around the world to immediately orient themselves around blockading infrastructure. Collectives must research infrastructure to find the most vulnerable chokepoints and get organized to block them in effective ways. Those without fighting comrades can still contribute by engaging in lone wolf acts of sabotage. – Disrupt the Flows: War Against DAPL and Planetary Annihilation
(via meadowcreature)
“Memory is not just pages in history books. Memory is the force that steels our will so that we continue fighting. It’s the thrust that pushes us never to retreat. Memory sharpens our hatred and arms our revenge. Memory is the land where we meet with those we lost, those we never met, those we would like on our side in the battle, a battle that as long as it continues, our brothers will live inside thousands of conspiracies planned everywhere around the world, through acts of vandalism and arson, executions, prison escape plans and they will never be left to the oblivion of time.”— Conspiracy of Cells of Fire FAI/IRF Imprisoned members cell; Memory is Our Weapon of Conspiracy (2015)
“We regularly ask teenage girls to read books in which characters degrade women, expecting them to understand that the book’s other merits outweigh its misogyny. To set such an expectation and not consider its effect on young women is foolish and hypocritical; we rarely expect young men to do the same, and hardy ever expect young white men to read extensively in traditions where their identities aren’t represented or are degraded. We need to reflect on the way the literature we celebrate supports the idea that women who are sexually frustrated create problems for themselves, while men in the same situation create problems for the world. Though the links are subtle, our celebration of a canon of sad white boy literature affects the way we think, and how much tolerance we offer to men like [Alek] Minassian and [Elliot] Rodger.”— Erin Spampinato, from this article on the correlation between celebrated literary canon and the ‘incel’ culture that has arisen in online spaces (Jun. 2018)
Artist: Kenojuak Ashevak
(1927-2013)
Kenojuak Ashevak, a Canadian artist and printmaker, is regarded as one of the most notable pioneers of modern Inuit art
She was born in Ikirasaq, an Inuit camp, at the southern coast of Baffin Island
Her father was a hunter, fur trader, and respected shaman. When she was only six years old, he was assassinated by Christian converts.
She was arranged to marry a local hunter, but was reluctant, and even playfully threw pebbles at him when he approached her
She was one of the first Inuit women in Cape Dorset to begin drawing, and she went on to create the first Inuit stained glass window for the John Bell Chapel in Ontario
She worked in graphite, colored pencils, poster paints, watercolor, and acrylics as well as creating etchings and carvings from soapstone
(via di-atom)
“In purporting to give everyone an opportunity to participate, majority-rule democracy offers a perfect justification for repressing those who don’t abide by its dictates: if they don’t like the government, why don’t they go into politics themselves? And if they don’t win at the game of building up a majority to wield power, didn’t they get their chance? This is the same blame-the-victim reasoning used to justify capitalism: if the dishwasher isn’t happy with his salary, he should work harder so he too can own a restaurant chain. Sure, everyone gets a chance to compete, however unequal—but what about those of us who don’t want to compete, who never wanted power to be centralized in the hands of a government in the first place? What if we don’t care to rule or be ruled?”
