fette sans @fettesans - Tumblr Blog

my natural environment.. in bed

l'homme de rio (1964) convoi de filles (1979) poor things (2023) les biches (1968) lost in translation (2003) shallow grave (1994)

fettesans

From top to bottom, screencaptures from L'homme de Rio, directed by Philippe de Broca, 1964, Convoi de filles, directed by Pierre Chevalier, 1979, Poor Things, directed by Yorgos Lanthimos. 2023, Lost in Translation, directed by Sofia Coppola, 2003, and Shallow Grave, directed by Danny Boyle, 1994.

Since 2021, Pokémon Go has asked players to record short videos of real-world locations, called Pokéstops, to earn extra in-game items. Scanning all the buildings, streets, and trees in a 360-degree sweep was optional, and Niantic asked separately for permission to keep the footage. Granting it meant agreeing to extra terms.

Those terms handed Niantic a transferable, sublicensable license to the scans, meaning the company could resell the imagery to third parties. Floris De Hingh, a 34-year-old Dutch player who downloaded the game on its first available day in 2016, told Trouw he never connected the footage he captured to a system that would steer military drones. “I was just playing a game,” he said. He had even scanned the inside of his own apartment.

Haye Kesteloo, from Pokémon Go Scans Quietly Trained the Navigation Tech Now Headed Into Military Drones, for DroneXL, June 9, 2026.

#diptych not mine #reoccurrence #safe new world #linked excerpts #awake in someone else's room

Left, Paul Bergon, Dans l'escalier, ca. 1894-1912, Gelatin silver print, image: 24,6 × 12,1 cm, mount: 40,5 × 25,7 cm. Via. Right, Albrecht Dürer, A Woman in Netherlandish Dress Seen from Behind, 1521, Brush and black ink, heightened with white, background with brush and black ink, on gray-violet prepared paper. Via.

See also, Georges Didi Huberman, Le regard dans les plis, 2026

I get scared easily. I’m afraid to be alive because whoever has life shall one day die. And the world violates me. The demanding instincts, the cruel soul, the crudeness of those who have no decency, the laws to obey, murder — it all makes me dizzy just as there are people who faint at the sight of blood: the medical student with a pale face and white lips about to dissect his first cadaver. It scares me when in a glance I see the bowels of other people’s spirit.

Clarice Lispector, from A Breath of Life, 1978. Via.

#diptych #linked excerpts

Top, screen capture from Trouble Every Day, directed by Claire Denis, 2001. Bottom, screen capture from Magdalena Viraga, directed by Nina Menkes, 1986.

I like things that shock and affect my nervous system deeply. But things are not shocking unless they have been put into a memorable form. Once you’ve seen blood spattered against a wall a few times it’s no longer shocking. You think, well, that’s just blood splashed against a wall. It has to have something which just reverberates within your psyche and disturbs your whole life cycle. Something which affects the whole atmosphere you live in. Most of what is called art, your eye just flows over. It may be charming or nice, but it doesn’t change you. The same is often true about photos, even war photos. They are often violent, and yet it’s not enough.

Michael Peppiatt, from Francis Bacon in Your Blood, 2015. Via.

Some lives are hit with catastrophic trauma over and over again; then trauma, with its concomitant strategies of survival, becomes a chronic condition. Defenses and denial become second nature; traumatic repetition becomes second nature. Trauma as a mode of being violently halts the flow of time, fractures the self, and punctures memory and language. And then there are those afflicted by what Freud called “Schicksalsneurose,” that is, a “fate neurosis,” who seem to be living under a bad spell, haunted by a curse that often precedes their lives, an ancestral curse perhaps, hidden and intangible, relegated to secrecy and silence.

Gabriel Schwab, from Haunting Legacies: Violent Histories and Transgenerational Trauma, 2010. Via.

#diptych #reoccurrence #linked excerpts #research for ufp

Top, screen capture from Herakles, directed by Werner Herzog, 1962. Bottom, Ugo Rondinone, Frail foggy fairytale, 2009, Wood, hardware, enamel, 256 × 284 × 13 cm. Via.

Here is the history of the body; water perhaps darkness perhaps stars bone then scales then wings then legs then arms then belly then bone then nerves then feathers then scales, then wings then liquid then pores then bone then blood pouring, then eyes, then distance, only this all that has happened since is too painful, too unimaginable.

Dionne Brand, from Land to Light On, 1997. Via.

#diptych #quotes

Top, photograph by Andrew Norman Wilson & Shane Lavalette, from the series Nobodaddies, 2026. Via. Bottom, Vladislav Markov, LOCATION.LOCATION.LOCATION., 2026, Installation: kitchen, screen, video, carpet, 2 lamps, brown floor cover, Video duration 43'23'', on view at Bernheim Gallery, Zürich. Via.

David Pryor Adickes was an American sculptor and painter born in Huntsville, Texas. He is best known for A Tribute to Courage, the sixty-seven-foot statue of Sam Houston, the first and third president of the Republic of Texas, erected in Adickes’s hometown on the northbound side of I-45 in 1994. That same year, a drive to Mount Rushmore inspired Adickes to embark on his most ambitious undertaking: a series of two-ton, eighteen-to-twenty-foot concrete-and-steel busts of every U.S. president. He ended the series in the early twenty-first century with President Barack Obama. Adickes passed away at the age of ninety-eight in the summer of 2025.

Orchestra, a 10-month-old company, has set up more than 100 street-facing cameras across the city, giving it live coverage of areas including SoMa, the Tenderloin, North Beach and the Marina. It plans to place 900 more cameras across the city's main commercial corridors over the next six months.

The pitch is something like Google Search, but for city streets. "It's a search engine for the physical world," said cofounder and chief operating officer Stephania Stavropoulos.

Orchestra installs free street-facing cameras on private businesses' properties. The cameras stream high-definition video around the clock, and AI converts the footage into structured data, identifying objects, vehicles, and incidents. Cofounder and CEO Drake Burciaga called the footage the "Erewhon of data" because of its premium quality.

Rya Jetha, from This startup wants to turn the world into a searchable video feed, starting in San Francisco, for Business Insider, July 2, 2026.

#diptych #safe new world #linked excerpts #head hitch

Top, spread from Paul Virilio, The Aesthetics of Disappearance, 1980. Via. Bottom, screen capture from A Woman’s Case, directed by Jacques Katmor, 1969. Via.

It is not true that the more you love, the better you understand; all that the action of love obtains from me is merely this wisdom: that the other is not to be known; his opacity is not the screen around a secret, but, instead, a kind of evidence in which the game of reality and appearance is done away with. I am then seized with that exaltation of loving someone unknown, someone who will remain so forever: a mystic impulse: I know what I do not know.

Roland Barthes, from A Lover's Discourse, 1977. Via.

#diptych #quotes #hands

Top, screen capture from Eastern Promises, directed by David Cronenberg, 2007. Bottom, Robert Mapplethorpe, Jay Kiss, 1973, Mixed media. Via.

Here I would suggest that Crowley’s sexual magick is a striking illustration of what Georges Bataille calls the power of transgression, which is a central aspect of eroticism, religious ritual and mystical experience alike. Transgression, Bataille argues, is not simple hedonism or unrestrained sexual license; rather, its power lies in the dialectic or “play” (le jeu) between taboo and transgression, through which one systematically constructs and then oversteps all laws. Perhaps nowhere is this more apparent than in the case of eroticism. Not a matter of simple nudity, eroticism arises in the dialectic of veiling and revealing, clothing and striptease, between the creation of sexual taboos and the exhilarating experience of overstepping them. So too, in ecstatic mystical experience or religious rites (such as blood sacrifices, carnivals, etc.), one must first create an aura of purity and sanctity before one can defile it with violence, transgression or the overturning of law. “The prohibition is there to be violated;” rules are made to be broken, for it is the experience of over-stepping limits that brings the blissful sense of continuity and communion with the Other.

Hugh Urban, from Unleashing the Beast: Aleister Crowley, Tantra and Sex Magic in Late Victorian England, 2003. Via.

#diptych #linked excerpts #head hitch

Top, Ed Ruscha, Century Sickness, 1984, Dry pigment on paper, 73,7 x 58,4 cm. Via. Bottom, screen capture posted on Bluesky by 'viktor shtrum', Ok wait NOW he really is watching himself watch himself on Fox News, July 5, 2026.

A cultural system of signiﬁcance seeks to avoid events that are disruptive for a given system of signiﬁcance or seeks to downplay or explain away the phenomena that are unavoidably disruptive . . . If we accept this general distinction, then we might explicate the exact nature of the “confusion” that induces horror in the following way. The backrooms start being terrifying not just when I ﬁnd myself surrounded by the cultural cavities, i.e. by the disorder and decay of meaningfulness. It occurs when I obtain a ﬁrst unclear feeling that here cavities are not anomalies but the constitutive principles of organization of this situation. A horror-situation, i.e. a setting where horror can meaningfully appear, is characterized by an inversed setting where something like a cultural cavity takes the position of cultural height and cultural heights are moved to the status of an anomaly that themselves call for an explanation and rearrangement; in backrooms, I myself become an anomaly.

Daniil Koloskov, from Beyond Reach: Horror and Phenomenal Life, 2024. Via.

Nothing is wholly obvious without becoming enigmatic. Reality itself is too obvious to be true.”

Jean Baudrillard, from The Perfect Crime, 1995. Via.

#diptych #reoccurrence #linked excerpts #safe new world

Left, screen captures from Les Savates du bon Dieu, directed by Jean-Claude Brisseau, 2000. Right, screen captures from Les Amants du Pont-Neuf, directed by Leos Carax, 1991.

There is directness and equipoise in the fervor, just as the greatest turmoil has precision. Like the discretion a tornado has when it tears down building after building, house by house. It is enough, Kafka said, that the arrow fit exactly into the wound that it makes.

Linda Gregg, from The Precision, in Things and Flesh, 1999. Via.

#diptych #reoccurrence #quotes #the face

Fette Sans, La Reprise (Dérive), 2020-ongoing May 30th, 2026, noon to midnight at Kunstverein am Rosa-Luxemburg-Platz, Berlin.

La Reprise (Dérive) is an exercise in continuity and distortion. This experimental film began on June 21, 2020. On May 29, 2026, it will be 310 min / weeks long. Every week, a subsequent minute is produced by combining scenes shot that week with archival material from the past years. Footage and sound are consistently recorded with the same single device (an iPhone). The film may distort, but there is always a presumption that something exists, or did exist, which is what was recorded. The sequences are neither true nor false, they integrate various degrees of theatricality and authenticity. The narrative is disconnected from the sum of its parts and elaborates on successes and failures. In this regard, the film is in a constant state of being finished, rather than interminably in progress. While its length progressively evolves, it also always is its final duration. This work is meant to continue until my death.

#personal narrative #film work

Fette Sans, La Reprise (Dérive) #310, May 24, 2026.

If you are in Berlin, come watch this minute and all the preceding ones at Kunstverein am Rosa-Luxemburg-Platz, on May 30th. The film will be screened twice between noon and midnight.

#personal narrative #film work #Vimeo

Left, Tatiana Trouvé, From here I disappear, 2009, Wood, mirror, plexiglas, metal, neon lamp, Dimensions variable, from the exhibition A Stay Between Enclosure and Space at Migros Museum für Gegenwartskunst Zürich, November 11, 2009 - February 21, 2010. Via. Right, Victor Simyan, A LARGE MINTON MAJOLICA TURQUOISE-GROUND 'PROMETHEUS' VASE, date cypher for 1867, 97,7 cm H, manufactured by Minton and Co., 1873. Via. More.

This, then, is the paradox of drama and tragedy: how can essence come alive? How can it become the sensual, immediate, the only real, the truly "being" thing? Drama alone creates — "gives form to" — real human beings, but just because of this it must, of necessity, deprive them of living existence. Their life is made up of words and gestures, but every word they speak and every gesture they make is more than gesture or word; all the manifestations of their life are mere ciphers for their ultimate relationships, their life merely a pale allegory of their own Platonic ideas. Their existence can have no reality except the reality of the soul, the reality of lived experience and faith. "Lived experience" is latent in every event of life as a threatening abyss, the door to the judgement chamber: its connection with the Idea—of which it is merely the outward manifestation—is no more than the conceivable possibility of such a connection in the midst of the chaotic coincidences of real life. And faith affirms this connection and transforms its eternally improvable possibility into the a priori basis for the whole existence.

György Lukács, from The Metaphysics of Tragedy in Soul and Form, 1910. Via.

#diptych #linked excerpts

Left, illustration from An American text-book of obstetrics, 1897. Via. More. Right, Louka Anargyros, Now there is a master scenario available to everyone. The color is black, the material is leather, the seduction is beauty, the justification is honesty, the aim is ecstasy, the fantasy is death., 2024, Leather and Paint, 260 × 2100 cm. Via. More.

Ignaz Semmelweis was a Hungarian born physician who received his MD degree in Vienna in 1844. In 1847 he was given a 2 year appointment as an assistant in obstetrics with responsibility for the First Division of the maternity service of the vast Allgemeine Krankenhaus teaching hospital in Vienna. There he observed that women delivered by physicians and medical students had a much higher rate (13–18%) of post-delivery mortality (called puerperal fever or childbed fever) than women delivered by midwife trainees or midwives (2%).

This case-control analysis led Semmelweis to consider several hypotheses. He concluded that the higher rates of infections in women delivered by physicians and medical students were associated with the handling of corpses during autopsies before attending the pregnant women. This was not done by the midwives. He associated the exposure to cadaveric material with an increased risk of childbed fever, and conducted a study in which the intervention was hand washing. Via.

The Greek word, catachresis, means the rhetorical practice of misnaming something for which there would otherwise be no words.

[...]For Derrida, catachresis captures the inherent linguistic instability in all signifying practices and for Spivak it names the inherent colonial violence lurking in the practice of naming and identifying, systematizing and translating.

Jack Halberstam, from Female Masculinity, 1998. Via.

I hope the heavens are ripped open (the moment when the intelligible disposition of objects, which though known have become alien, yields to a presence that is intelligible only to the heart). This I hoped for, but the skies never opened. There's a mystery in my crouching here like a beast of prey, flesh gripped by hunger. It's completely absurd: "Is God the animal I'd like to tear apart?" As if I was really a beast of prey. But I'm sicker than that. My hunger holds no interest for me. Rather than eat, my desire is to be eaten. Love eats my living bones, and the only release is quick death. I'm waiting for an answer from the dark in which I exist. What if it turned out that instead of being ground to pieces, I was just forgotten about, like some kind of waste? There isn't an answer in all this flailing about. Just emptiness. Now say that…. There's no God, though, for me to get down on my knees to.

Georges Bataille, from Guilty (Le Coupable), 1961, translated by Bruce Boone, 1988. Via.

#diptych #safe new world #hands #linked excerpts

Fette Sans, from the Cause that slew Me, 2026, surgical screw, thread, printed paper. Or a category for the pile books placed below it.

On view at GMK, Zagreb from April 28 to May 25, 2026.

#personal narrative #analog

Fette Sans, excerpts from the Cause that slew Me, 2026, printed pages.

On view at GMK, Zagreb from April 28 to May 25, 2026.

#personal narrative #analog

Top, Paul Klee, Prophet (Prophète), May 6, 1930, Tempera on paper, 61 x 47 cm. Via. Bottom, Robert Filiou, That Spiritual Need, 1971, Wood, nails, screws, black and white photograph and tabor with bank card on wooden panel, 55,5 x 68,5 x 7 cm. Inscription on recto: "Concentration and meditation while using works in a bodily way. That my art should be in action. That spiritual need." Via. More.

Who among us has not, by chance, looked in the mirror and felt surprised? For a fraction of a second we see ourselves as an object to be looked at. Some might call this narcissism, but I would call it: the joy of being. The joy of finding in our external face echoes of our internal face: ah, so it's true, I didn’t just imagine myself, I actually exist.

Clarice Lispector, from Too Much of Life: Complete Chronicles, 1967-1977. Published 2022. Via.

Mind, then, as the steady dreaming of this Eairth (sic), the unseen depth from whence all beings draw their sustenance. Mind as wind, this whooshing force, the medium that moves between and binds all earthly beings. This mystery rolling in and out of breathing bodies, invisible: wafting up from the soil and gusting down from the passes in vortices and curling waves that splash against the grasses. A fluid receptacle, clear as crystal, for the inpouring (sic) fire of sunlight; the pellucid nighttime lens through which our eyes receive the stars. Sentience was never our private possession. We live immersed in intelligence, enveloped and informed by a creativity we cannot fathom.

David Abram, from Becoming Animal: An Earthly Cosmology, 2010. Via. More.

#diptych #the face #linked excerpts

Google says. “A lot of your most significant moments live in your Google Photos library. By connecting your Google Photos library to Personal Intelligence, Gemini goes a step further than just understanding your interests. It can use actual images of you and your loved ones.” By its very nature, this goes right to the heart of your most private and intimate moments. “Now your inner circle can become the stars of your images, whether you want a result that feels pulled straight from your life or one that takes your imagination a bit further.”

Zak Doffman, from Google Starts Scanning All Your Photos As New Update Goes Live, for Forbes, April 20, 2026.

#linked excerpts #safe new world #the cult of (...)#oculolinctus

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