The Opinionated Spectator

[opinionatedspectator-blog]

Art, Feminism, & The Distribution of The Sensible

 It has taken me quite a while to actually write anything on this blog, not really due to a lack of ideas or a lack of inspiring and transpiring events, but I guess mostly I wanted to take the time and be able to define the dimensions of what I aim for this blog to be. Define its boundaries and scope of focus. Perhaps its also because I did not want anything I post here to be of an academic nature, but where I can successfully export my perspectives without really sounding like I’m submitting a paper to a professor.   However, in terms of defining the focus of this blog, which might simply be transmitting my perspective to you, the reader, this blog cannot be but an extension of myself. So here, I’m going to write from the first person perspective. I hope that to you this seems valid enough as reliable information, but the self as a vehicle of experience, for me at least, is anything but negligible.

Also, shoutout to Naeem Inayatullah of Ithica University for importing the narrative approach to political science.

  As a precursor however, I would like you to take the time and look at a paper entitled “Neoliberalism As Creative Destruction” by David Harvey. This should really help you understand where I am coming from as an individual. But do keep in mind that despite me in the future or the past sounding like a left-wing marxist geographer, I am not.  I am in fact neither a supporter of the capitalist way of life, nor the socio-economic, post-capitalistic arrangement that Marx has presented in his Manifesto. I am simply myself, perhaps in terms of background a Humanist... but aren’t we all? 

 A point to stress here is the current cultural phenomena of extremes. For some reason, the polarization of thought and ideology seems to be the status-quo of our times and generation. I am someone who would like to belong to the middle path. 

 Now to get to the point behind this post and why I have asked you to read Harvey’s paper. Neoliberal capitalism is best described as the shift from an industrial based economy, to one that is mostly characterized by the service sector industries. Therefor this calls for a shift in the nature and qualifications of the workforces required to run such economies, and ultimately to populate their cities. To make a long story short, major cities across the globe compete amongst each other to attract as many members of the “creative class”  as possible to empower their industries. The creative class is the term used to describe the modern service sector workforce, mainly graphic designer, app developers, architects, writers, photographers, lawyers, gig industry execs, and overall modern service providers. This activity automatically changes the layout of a city. Gentrified neighborhoods, galleries, art spaces, installations, film exhibitions, speciality coffee shops, and artsy food concepts come in to fill the urban geography. This has previously been described by Sharon Zukin as “pacification by cappuccino”.

 The point I try to make here however is not to describe this shift, nor the socio-economic gaps that are produced through the need of low-wage service sector cohorts and middle to upper class entrepreneurs. Basically baristas and CEO’s. I’m writing this to describe a slight crisis that arises with art and culture being owned or introduced into the realm of state-led enterprises.  Some have described this to be the death of art with regards to the traditional function and definition of the role art has played in the social and cultural sphere. 

Art, whether visual or theoretical, be it a book, a sculpture, a painting, a photograph, or a film, has always participated in shaping what is described generally as “The Distribution of The Sensible”. Lets just call it the realm of the ‘taken for granted’, or socially and culturally accepted notions and activities as, well as modes of thought of a certain society. Art has always navigated on the boundaries of this realm, challenging its norms and its taboos, presenting the internal unheard struggles of the unheard, and representing an outlet for the expression of their experiences. This was not simply limited to the excluded or the impoverished,  but the right of each and every single individual. Art was a valid way to say what could not be said, to contest and to reconsider, to hold up a mirror and allow everyone to take a closer look at their blemishes and open pores. Yet with a state owning art, validating it, empowering, and ultimately, utilizing it as a capitalization opportunity, art is automatically stripped of all of its characteristics as well as its power. Art looses its voice and influence by simply gaining the recognition and normality from that which considered it novelty and abnormal.  

 Today we have art biennials curated by cities through their local authorities. They specify spaces for galleries, times and dates for events, as well as showcase certain artists to be celebrated and presented as the trend setters and pioneers. This applicable to all fields of artistic format; fashion, film, tangible and intangible. The problematic that arises from this dialectic is the control of the expression of art itself, and what is brought to light and left in the shadows is then decided by the hegemony. This could very easily be influenced by agendas, approval and disapproval bestowed by unknown committees. Yet art is not allowed to speak out upon it, resistance becomes illegitimate because art is recognized and now operates within the distribution of the sensible as to previously operating outside of it. You have been recognized, therefore you are not allowed to complain. We have heard your voice and provided you a platform. Thats basically what this procurement entails. 

 Another issue that comes to hand under this light is the over saturation of artistic expression on display everywhere, in every nook and cranny, in every alley and street.. all commissioned.. all artificial.. that really neutralizes the viewer to the impact and meaning of art. I find myself being less interested and less amazed... let alone less curious when I look at art these days. Have I always been this way? no.. not really.. I have noticed myself change however..it was exciting in 2011 up to 2014 when things were really gearing up towards the cultural turn.. but its 2019 now and not much has changed... and in 2019 I find myself incapable and indifferent.

 If you wish to understand this better, the work of professor Jenny Edkins on protests and governmental expansion could be of aid. I have personally had the pleasure and honor to be taught by her under a few modules. What Edkins basically states is the following; if a certain faction of the population who feels oppressed or excluded decided to demonstrate or protest their struggles to the state, the state itself, by recognizing their protests and answering their requests automatically expands its control over the different cohorts of a said population. This faction now can no longer use its voice to demand a certain right, but another representative may do so, yet only once. I have theorized something close to this which I call The Morbid Loop of Misconduct that I might discuss in the following posts.  

 This ownership and capitalization of such fields to be utilized as bait for branding cities and determining their respective levels of ‘coolness’ has reached its limits with testing my tolerance when feminist initiatives got introduced into the mix. We have recently celebrated the International Women’s Day... congratulations by the way... yet many businesses have gone to utilize this day as an opportunity to brand themselves as understanding and co-operative, as good listeners.. as celebrators of feminism.. in order to increase sales and foster public attention. I can pull out so many examples from my instagram feed but there is one photo that I deem appropriate in explaining what I try to describe, a post entitled: Man Visibly Upset After International Women’s Day Post Doesn’t Get The Likes He Banked On. (https://www.instagram.com/p/BuwFxPEFmBQ/)  It was intended for a meme.. yet to me it described anything but a laughing matter.... perhaps memes might be art’s last frontier.. who knows.. we’ll let neoliberalism decide.    The ownership of feminism by the socio-economic hegemony, and currently in the pipeline LGBT discourse, is going to bring about a new frontier of markets. The market of civil right attraction. 

On a second thought though, this is nothing new. The ownership of the state of feminist discourse has been used throughout history for not so human-centered nor humane reasons. If for instance we take Marx’s following statement, “the executive of the modern state is but a committee for managing the common affairs of the bourgeoisie” .. the truth of which I will deal with in a later post, we come to understand that feminism has been used to further service the machine of capitalism and lubricate its gears and cogs for more efficient outcomes since its ownership by state policy. Take for instance the insane push for women in the workforce. Now I am in no way against women having jobs or earning their own living, running businesses, or running countries even, however what we need to address is the socio-economic frameworks within which these ideas were introduced and the outcome that results from this push. The popularization of careerist orientations has many negative impacts on the social fabric itself. This is not simply in the sense of conservatism and maintaining tradition, but disabling cultures when resisting epistemological occupation. Sadly, women have been utilized by this new mode of radical feminism and made to think that they are the patrons of such movements when they are indeed the victims. 

Another example is Edward Bernays’ 1929 “Torches of Freedom” movement. The man was a PR freak and put the natural instinct of social impact and cultural roles that all humans have to service a monstrosity of an industry. You know the story, it was culturally frowned upon, and considered a taboo, for women to smoke in public spaces. It was this whole discourse on a cigarette being another phallic  symbol and a symbol of men’s power... but basically as far as tobacco companies were concerned, half of the population were a potential market they weren’t tapping into. Along comes Freud’s grandson, and rebrands cigarettes as the torches of freedom, asking women who were posing as suffragettes to march in a protest with lit cigarettes as a move to display the power of the feminine.  

Everything that the state has done after obtaining ownership of feminism towards this “cause” has been of the same nature. But what needs to be kept in mind here is that the state in this sense is the collective of corporate. After all what is the purpose of a city? What is the current modern purpose of having an economy? It is to circulate capital through it as efficiently as possible with the largest market share that a state can muster. Read Saskia Sassen’s The Global City for a better perspective. 

 Anyways... im tired of writing this.. I hope you get the point. 

Neoliberal capitalism never fails to surprise me with its creative capacity for destruction. 

 This post might seem to be of no use.. but it was just me letting off some steam. This is what this is all about... letting off some steam.

[opinionatedspectator-blog]

Introduction

 We live in a time where all foundations of all forms of thought and ideology find themselves in danger of accusation. Nothing is stable. Nothing is fixed. Nothing is absolute and all is relative. We live in a time where every social structure which has once existed, which has maintained, supported, or even supplied any state of communal bliss or blight is not comprehended. We live in a time where everything we have believed in, held dear, true, and granted seems to be producing nothing but shockwaves to which a globalized and universalized world flickers. We live in doubt and in disbelief. The past doesn’t seem to exist, and the present churns the wheels of the phantom we willingly denied. 

 This is a blog where I try, for once, to cope with what has been produced. This overarching sense of oblivion is not the product of a generational long term memory loss. But the product of hegemony. A hegemony which has invaded and permeated all aspects of the everyday and the narratives upon which the everyday is reproduced. It came to substitute reality, human contact, and social purpose, with a brilliantly directed marionette production.  A theatrical show where with all vulgarity, the hero is stabbed with a real blade, and all the blood you see is not corn starch and color. This is the pinnacle of this disaster. A fraudulent growth, a fictionalized truth, imagined principles....propagated on colorful banners, billboards, and shimmering lights,.... but an outcome thats felt like a steel knife. 

 In a time where the greatest achievement one can earn is to be human, I write these notes. I write to reassure you, that the orient still stands despite your disbelief in its existence. That it has a voice more beautiful than any that you’ve heard. That the minarets are still lit. That the way we live does not change. That these colors don’t run. 

 As I write this my brothers fall around me. My sisters in Yemen, my sisters in Syria, my mothers in Palestine... my cousins in Saudi, my kin in Egypt, my blood in Lebanon, my blood in Lybia, and my brothers in Iraq. We have known pain, a pain that we have always been dealt, blow after blow, time and time again. An anger and rage that bellows at us from the far corners of the West, resonating throughout Europe and reverbing in our ears. Yet everyday after the storm, the minarets call, Egypt never seems to loset its smile, the cafes are still open, and Umm Kalthoum still sings through its allies. Everyday after the storm we wake up, like nothing happened, like yesterday is of the past, and today will be a brand new one. We have been promised by the sun, that despite the heat it will never shine as lovingly upon anyone, we have been promised by the sea that no matter how much the ocean winds thrust it, it shall never intrude upon our beaches. We have been promised by the ground under our feet that no matter how much you mine it, no matter how much you hurt it, no matter how much you drill it, that it shall never shake, that it shall keep our homes, keep our villages, and keep us.  

 We are hurt everyday for we are different. No matter how profit incentivized you turn our cities, no matter how far your service based economies grow, we will never define civilization according to your terms. We are hurt because we are envied. You wish to see what we see, feel what we feel, and understand what we are born knowing. How can Jerusalem ever become the capital of israel when every stone on every street knows our children by name, and greets them every morning? How can it be claimed if the walls of its churches, mosques, and synagogues call to those believers which they have known, centuries ago, to obey their principles? Do you honestly think that if we’re moved off the land the land wont yearn?  

 This is the difference. This is why the orient still stands and it will always stand in the face of this meaningless parade. The orient stands because its inhabitants have nurtured a true and meaningful relationship with it. An achievement which the western dwelling system has been striving to achieve, creatively destroyed, and all the sciences of the post-modernists have been circulating around. To create meaning in a meaningless environment, for a meaningless society, with a meaningless objective. 

 Don’t misunderstand me, this loss is not the fault of innocent men and women going by their idle days, this is the product of naturalization and fabricated orientations.

 This is a blog about space and place, this is a blog about humanism, about architecture, about politics. This is a blog about what is real, devoid from metaphor. This is where epistemology and ontology align to search for true resilience.  I have seen the world fall into moral ruins, and I have seen those who were able to maintain it, hold it together, and tend to its wounds. This is a blog about community, about poetry, about philosophy, about all that I see, all that I can’t comprehend in a state of sensory overload and irritation. 

 These are the notes of an opinionated spectator.