Pub Date : 2023-05-01DOI: 10.1353/asa.2023.a910059
Ryan Fitzpatrick, Deanna Fong
Heavy-Hand Holding:Dwelling in Contradiction with Danielle LaFrance and Anahita Jamali Rad Ryan Fitzpatrick (bio) and Deanna Fong (bio) In times of crisis, we must all decide again and again whom we love. —Frank O'Hara1 How to explain, in a culture frantic for resolution, that sometimes the shit stays messy? —Maggie Nelson2 INTRODUCTION In the Call for Papers of this issue, the editors ask us to consider the politics and aesthetics of what they term "the forever crisis": "articulations of catastrophe that appear singular or locally-situated, but which are in fact part of a much larger network of interrelated crises (climate change, war, pandemic, capitalist extraction) that threaten the long-term viability of the planet and its many inhabitants."3 Holding apart the "singular" and the "interrelated"—if only for a moment before collapsing that distinction—raises the question: when we speak of crisis, where do we imagine that crisis taking place? That is, if we imagine [End Page 325] crisis as an event—the emergence of something radically new and the aftermaths it leaves in its wake—is its locus the individual (i.e., the "midlife crisis" or "crisis of faith"), or must it to some degree implicate the individual in relation to the structures and forces that they move through and that act on them (the October Crisis, global economic crisis, etc.)? The answer, of course, is yes: its locus is both of these at once, even if crisis may manifest itself differently or unevenly at these scales. Even in crisis, the singular is always in relation to something. Breaking or shifting relations destabilizes life as we know it. Sometimes this destabilization works from the bottom up, creating effusive new political possibilities that were once thought impossible. Other times, destabilization acts from the top down, splintering solidarities to the benefit of those doing the reorganizing. The notion of a forever crisis, however, asks us to reimagine crisis as structural rather than a series of temporally acute ruptures.4 If crisis structures our everyday lives, how do we imagine maneuvering through, or even stepping outside of that structure—as individual or collective subjects? We believe that framing our contemporary set of conditions as a forever crisis involves grappling with the contradictory and uneven ways that crisis manifests. We're interested in a tendency within twenty-first-century poetics that interrogates our long transmogrifying crisis point by grappling with everyday intimacies and the global regimes they nest with. We believe that poetry acts as a useful tool for mapping life in the friction point between event and structure, between crisis and "normalcy" (or crisis as normal). Poetry is able to entreat with everyday life's often contradictory messiness, with the entanglements of different scales of attention, and with the sheer complexity of words and worlds as they join and articulate together. [End Page 326] The poetry of Danielle LaFrance and Anah
{"title":"Heavy-Hand Holding: Dwelling in Contradiction with Danielle LaFrance and Anahita Jamali Rad","authors":"Ryan Fitzpatrick, Deanna Fong","doi":"10.1353/asa.2023.a910059","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/asa.2023.a910059","url":null,"abstract":"Heavy-Hand Holding:Dwelling in Contradiction with Danielle LaFrance and Anahita Jamali Rad Ryan Fitzpatrick (bio) and Deanna Fong (bio) In times of crisis, we must all decide again and again whom we love. —Frank O'Hara1 How to explain, in a culture frantic for resolution, that sometimes the shit stays messy? —Maggie Nelson2 INTRODUCTION In the Call for Papers of this issue, the editors ask us to consider the politics and aesthetics of what they term \"the forever crisis\": \"articulations of catastrophe that appear singular or locally-situated, but which are in fact part of a much larger network of interrelated crises (climate change, war, pandemic, capitalist extraction) that threaten the long-term viability of the planet and its many inhabitants.\"3 Holding apart the \"singular\" and the \"interrelated\"—if only for a moment before collapsing that distinction—raises the question: when we speak of crisis, where do we imagine that crisis taking place? That is, if we imagine [End Page 325] crisis as an event—the emergence of something radically new and the aftermaths it leaves in its wake—is its locus the individual (i.e., the \"midlife crisis\" or \"crisis of faith\"), or must it to some degree implicate the individual in relation to the structures and forces that they move through and that act on them (the October Crisis, global economic crisis, etc.)? The answer, of course, is yes: its locus is both of these at once, even if crisis may manifest itself differently or unevenly at these scales. Even in crisis, the singular is always in relation to something. Breaking or shifting relations destabilizes life as we know it. Sometimes this destabilization works from the bottom up, creating effusive new political possibilities that were once thought impossible. Other times, destabilization acts from the top down, splintering solidarities to the benefit of those doing the reorganizing. The notion of a forever crisis, however, asks us to reimagine crisis as structural rather than a series of temporally acute ruptures.4 If crisis structures our everyday lives, how do we imagine maneuvering through, or even stepping outside of that structure—as individual or collective subjects? We believe that framing our contemporary set of conditions as a forever crisis involves grappling with the contradictory and uneven ways that crisis manifests. We're interested in a tendency within twenty-first-century poetics that interrogates our long transmogrifying crisis point by grappling with everyday intimacies and the global regimes they nest with. We believe that poetry acts as a useful tool for mapping life in the friction point between event and structure, between crisis and \"normalcy\" (or crisis as normal). Poetry is able to entreat with everyday life's often contradictory messiness, with the entanglements of different scales of attention, and with the sheer complexity of words and worlds as they join and articulate together. [End Page 326] The poetry of Danielle LaFrance and Anah","PeriodicalId":132671,"journal":{"name":"ASAP/Journal","volume":"4 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135563375","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-05-01DOI: 10.1353/asa.2023.a910051
Anna B G Thomas
That Form, Crisis Anna B G Thomas (bio) I Of all the lexicon of the terrible—catastrophe, disaster, collapse—"crisis" presents a formal promise that its usage can never answer. In the OED, the definition of crisis emphasizes a turning point, that a "decisive change for better or worse is imminent" (3: transferred and figurative), or—and this gets me—"decisive of recovery or death" (1: Pathology).1 It is this pathological meaning that draws out the tension in this issue's title and, I suggest, makes clear "crisis" as a formal promise. Does my desire for a decisive improvement show up as a desire for the form of crisis? If not a form of total closure, the pathological crisis promises amelioration or death; yet, if the urgency of this time is to be cognized, we must have categorical forms suited to the ongoing. To locate urgency, therefore, perhaps I need to reject the form of crisis. The misidentification of form is an epistemological problem, one I can access through Sylvia Wynter, who cautions me to be suspicious of categories. I turn to "'No Humans Involved': An Open Letter to My Colleagues," her essay written in the wake of the acquittal of the policemen who beat Rodney King and the revelation in that court case of the acronym [End Page 231] "No Humans Involved" police used to name their violent and murderous encounters with Black men in Los Angeles. I am neither the first nor the last to return to this essay with the devastation of the now in the then. Wynter articulates as urgent the epistemological task of examining the categories of knowledge produced, enshrined, and perpetuated by the academy in order to understand how the acronym NHI (No Humans Involved) can enter into the lexicon. Further, these acts of violence under the sign of NHI are committed, as she reminds us, "[b]y those whom we ourselves would have educated[.]"2 As an educator, then, two fears: the person harmed and the student harming. This is to say, the stakes of what happens in our classrooms are high when the university is itself a site for the reproduction of harm because of the epistemological frame it inhabits and perpetuates, leaving some outside the discourse of Man. This Wynter teaches us: that episteme is the scale of this violence. In my small way, though, I am still stuck on the crisis question: while each individual instance of violence may well have had a turning point, a decisive moment where things could have gone another way, how do we cognize their group categorization? This cannot be a crisis. And as each crisis moment of violence or murder accumulates, I do not know its formal structure; repetition belies the potentiality of the turning point.3 I find two choices in the face of such repetitions: one, exhausted despair, or, two, accessing the resources, wisdom, and humility to know that others have faced and thought through these questions before. These questions are not new. Much work on the question of the human and its episteme is ongoing, but I'd like to
在所有关于灾难、灾难、崩溃的可怕词汇中，“危机”是一个它的用法永远无法回答的正式承诺。在《牛津英语词典》中，危机的定义强调了一个转折点，即“向好的或坏的决定性变化迫在眉睫”(3:转移和比喻)，或者——这让我明白了——“恢复或死亡的决定性变化”(1:病理学)正是这种病态的含义引出了本期标题的张力，我认为，它明确地将“危机”作为一种正式的承诺。我对决定性改善的渴望是否表现为对危机形式的渴望?如果不是一种彻底的结束，病态的危机预示着改善或死亡;然而，如果要认识到这一时刻的紧迫性，我们必须有适合当前形势的绝对形式。因此，为了确定紧迫性，也许我需要拒绝危机的形式。对形式的错误识别是一个认识论问题，我可以通过西尔维娅·温特(Sylvia Wynter)了解到这个问题，她告诫我要对类别持怀疑态度。我翻开了《无人参与:致同事的一封公开信》，这篇文章是她在殴打罗德尼·金的警察被判无罪之后写的，在那个法庭案件中，警察用“无人参与”这个缩写来称呼他们在洛杉矶与黑人的暴力和杀戮。我不是第一个，也不是最后一个回到这篇文章的人，带着当时的现在的毁灭。温特明确表示，为了理解首字母缩略词NHI (No Humans Involved)是如何进入词典的，迫切需要对学术界所产生、保存和延续的知识类别进行检查的认识论任务。此外，正如她提醒我们的那样，这些以国民健康保险为标志的暴力行为是“由我们自己教育的那些人犯下的”。作为教育者，有两种恐惧:受伤害的人和受伤害的学生。这就是说，当大学本身就是一个伤害再生产的场所时，我们课堂上发生的事情的风险就会很高，因为它所居住和延续的认识论框架，把一些人留在了人类的话语之外。这个冬天告诉我们:知识就是这种暴力的规模。然而，在我看来，我仍然被困在危机问题上:虽然每个暴力事件都可能有一个转折点，一个决定性的时刻，事情可能会朝着另一个方向发展，但我们如何认识它们的群体分类?这不可能是一场危机。随着暴力或谋杀的危机时刻不断累积，我不知道它的正式结构;重复掩盖了转折点的可能性面对这样的重复，我发现有两种选择:一，筋疲力尽的绝望;二，获取资源、智慧和谦卑，去了解别人以前曾经面对和思考过这些问题。这些问题并不新鲜。许多关于人类及其认知问题的工作正在进行中，但我想强调的是，温特将该机构的工作与她所说的“新穷人”和“环境”的紧迫性进行了对比。“新研究”(其中包括黑人研究)进入学院的承诺并没有使“无人类参与”的逻辑成为不可能。因此，解决为制度化和部门化的危机并没有满足我们认识框架的紧迫性。有鉴于此，温特呼吁“地平线”、“先锋”、“知识的新前沿”和“趋同”。每个名词的形式属性都脱离了危机的关键，但每个名词都是出于紧迫性。在写这篇文章时，我对自己说:危机的感觉不是知识;把危机和紧急分开。我一直感到被危机和它的话语再现和隐藏的不平衡所强迫。COVID - 19严重不平衡的经济危机就是这样一个明显的背景;看到捐赠增加的大学对危机话语的利用就是一个例子。重点是什么?
{"title":"That Form, Crisis","authors":"Anna B G Thomas","doi":"10.1353/asa.2023.a910051","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/asa.2023.a910051","url":null,"abstract":"That Form, Crisis Anna B G Thomas (bio) I Of all the lexicon of the terrible—catastrophe, disaster, collapse—\"crisis\" presents a formal promise that its usage can never answer. In the OED, the definition of crisis emphasizes a turning point, that a \"decisive change for better or worse is imminent\" (3: transferred and figurative), or—and this gets me—\"decisive of recovery or death\" (1: Pathology).1 It is this pathological meaning that draws out the tension in this issue's title and, I suggest, makes clear \"crisis\" as a formal promise. Does my desire for a decisive improvement show up as a desire for the form of crisis? If not a form of total closure, the pathological crisis promises amelioration or death; yet, if the urgency of this time is to be cognized, we must have categorical forms suited to the ongoing. To locate urgency, therefore, perhaps I need to reject the form of crisis. The misidentification of form is an epistemological problem, one I can access through Sylvia Wynter, who cautions me to be suspicious of categories. I turn to \"'No Humans Involved': An Open Letter to My Colleagues,\" her essay written in the wake of the acquittal of the policemen who beat Rodney King and the revelation in that court case of the acronym [End Page 231] \"No Humans Involved\" police used to name their violent and murderous encounters with Black men in Los Angeles. I am neither the first nor the last to return to this essay with the devastation of the now in the then. Wynter articulates as urgent the epistemological task of examining the categories of knowledge produced, enshrined, and perpetuated by the academy in order to understand how the acronym NHI (No Humans Involved) can enter into the lexicon. Further, these acts of violence under the sign of NHI are committed, as she reminds us, \"[b]y those whom we ourselves would have educated[.]\"2 As an educator, then, two fears: the person harmed and the student harming. This is to say, the stakes of what happens in our classrooms are high when the university is itself a site for the reproduction of harm because of the epistemological frame it inhabits and perpetuates, leaving some outside the discourse of Man. This Wynter teaches us: that episteme is the scale of this violence. In my small way, though, I am still stuck on the crisis question: while each individual instance of violence may well have had a turning point, a decisive moment where things could have gone another way, how do we cognize their group categorization? This cannot be a crisis. And as each crisis moment of violence or murder accumulates, I do not know its formal structure; repetition belies the potentiality of the turning point.3 I find two choices in the face of such repetitions: one, exhausted despair, or, two, accessing the resources, wisdom, and humility to know that others have faced and thought through these questions before. These questions are not new. Much work on the question of the human and its episteme is ongoing, but I'd like to","PeriodicalId":132671,"journal":{"name":"ASAP/Journal","volume":"195 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135563370","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-05-01DOI: 10.1353/asa.2023.a910055
Tao Leigh Goffe
Not Another Lab:The Forever Crisis of Incentivizing Collaboration in the Humanities Tao Leigh Goffe (bio) One's place of death can tell as much of a story as one's place of birth. Anticolonial philosopher Frantz Fanon died undergoing treatment for leukemia at the young age of thirty-six at the National Institute for Health facility in Bethesda, Maryland.1 Far from his place of birth in the Caribbean, as much as he was a political philosopher, the Afro-Antillean thinker was a man of science by training as a doctor of psychiatry. Working in the Bilda-Joinville Hospital outside Algiers, he conducted medical research that took on a transnational and interdisciplinary scope extending the questions of his dissertation "Essay for the Disalienation of the Black Man" to North Africa.2 [End Page 248] As a thought experiment, let us ask, had Fanon lived until today would he have established the Fanon Digital Humanities Lab for Decolonization? Grappling with the psychic terrain of colonial trauma, where would this lab be located if it existed? In his native Martinique perhaps, would he be eligible for EU funding through an ERC grant because the island nation is not sovereign and remains a department of France? Department geopolitics and departmental politics are both matters of sovereignty and dependency. They are fiscal matters. The crisis of the sovereignty of the humanities lies in the crisis of bureaucracy and the unequal geopolitics of grant funding. The current proliferating trend of humanities labs forming not as vehicles of collaborative study but as a matter of branding is extending the crisis by causing fractures instead of incentivizing collaborative study and research. If, as Fanon emphasized, "decolonization is always a violent event," what potential could the confines of a laboratory ever hold to produce work that liberates? What sorts of "reawakenings" are possible in the academy? The answer rests in what it means to incentivize true collaboration in the humanities amid its rapid defunding in favor of STEM. Part of intellectual crisis is the model of the lone genius, which imperils the future of the humanities, with tenure lines withering away. In a rush to adopt the neoliberal funding structures of the sciences, what price do the humanities pay? What do we stand to lose by miscalculating what a "return on investment" (ROI) looks like in the humanities? At its core and etymology, a laboratory is a "workplace." Yet, it is all too easy to overlook the distribution of labor and credit within laboratories. They ought to be experimental and inclusive spaces for collaboration and translation across disciplines. Architectures of alchemy and transformation, labs should be engines of creative hypotheses. Postdoctoral research positions in the humanities that do not lead to the tenure-track mimic the model of the sciences without the path to gainful employment, forming a stopgap and stunting researchers. We should be careful not to reproduce the rigid h
{"title":"Not Another Lab: The Forever Crisis of Incentivizing Collaboration in the Humanities","authors":"Tao Leigh Goffe","doi":"10.1353/asa.2023.a910055","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/asa.2023.a910055","url":null,"abstract":"Not Another Lab:The Forever Crisis of Incentivizing Collaboration in the Humanities Tao Leigh Goffe (bio) One's place of death can tell as much of a story as one's place of birth. Anticolonial philosopher Frantz Fanon died undergoing treatment for leukemia at the young age of thirty-six at the National Institute for Health facility in Bethesda, Maryland.1 Far from his place of birth in the Caribbean, as much as he was a political philosopher, the Afro-Antillean thinker was a man of science by training as a doctor of psychiatry. Working in the Bilda-Joinville Hospital outside Algiers, he conducted medical research that took on a transnational and interdisciplinary scope extending the questions of his dissertation \"Essay for the Disalienation of the Black Man\" to North Africa.2 [End Page 248] As a thought experiment, let us ask, had Fanon lived until today would he have established the Fanon Digital Humanities Lab for Decolonization? Grappling with the psychic terrain of colonial trauma, where would this lab be located if it existed? In his native Martinique perhaps, would he be eligible for EU funding through an ERC grant because the island nation is not sovereign and remains a department of France? Department geopolitics and departmental politics are both matters of sovereignty and dependency. They are fiscal matters. The crisis of the sovereignty of the humanities lies in the crisis of bureaucracy and the unequal geopolitics of grant funding. The current proliferating trend of humanities labs forming not as vehicles of collaborative study but as a matter of branding is extending the crisis by causing fractures instead of incentivizing collaborative study and research. If, as Fanon emphasized, \"decolonization is always a violent event,\" what potential could the confines of a laboratory ever hold to produce work that liberates? What sorts of \"reawakenings\" are possible in the academy? The answer rests in what it means to incentivize true collaboration in the humanities amid its rapid defunding in favor of STEM. Part of intellectual crisis is the model of the lone genius, which imperils the future of the humanities, with tenure lines withering away. In a rush to adopt the neoliberal funding structures of the sciences, what price do the humanities pay? What do we stand to lose by miscalculating what a \"return on investment\" (ROI) looks like in the humanities? At its core and etymology, a laboratory is a \"workplace.\" Yet, it is all too easy to overlook the distribution of labor and credit within laboratories. They ought to be experimental and inclusive spaces for collaboration and translation across disciplines. Architectures of alchemy and transformation, labs should be engines of creative hypotheses. Postdoctoral research positions in the humanities that do not lead to the tenure-track mimic the model of the sciences without the path to gainful employment, forming a stopgap and stunting researchers. We should be careful not to reproduce the rigid h","PeriodicalId":132671,"journal":{"name":"ASAP/Journal","volume":"21 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135563372","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-05-01DOI: 10.1353/asa.2023.a910056
Annie Bares
Fossil-Free Cultural Production:Contesting Petrophilanthropy in Contemporary Environmental art and Media Annie Bares (bio) In a time of ongoing climate crisis in the U.S. Gulf Coast and beyond, South Louisiana artists and culture workers have responded to the host of material, aesthetic, and ethical problems that accompany "petrophilanthropy," a term used by ryan mitchell and the Settler Colonial City Project to denote philanthropic activity of the oil and gas industry funded either by corporations or by individuals or private foundations whose wealth derives from oil and gas extraction.1 In this essay, I analyze art and media by hannah chalew and ana hernandez—including painting, sculpture, social media posts, and other projects—that define petrophilanthropy as a site of aesthetic and environmental struggle. These artists reappropriate petromodernity's representational practices and artifacts, which include mapping, aerial photography, sponsorship, tagging, and incorporating petroleum products into their artwork. ana hernandez's countermaps that mark extractive industrial disaster find conceptual analogues in community [End Page 255] GIS projects. hannah chalew's Becoming With: A Rhizomatic Solar Cart traverses the city's public spaces without using oil, emblematic of a wider artistic vision for a fossil-free culture that assembles as it critiques. While these aesthetic modes are not solely the province of the oil industry, these works of art reference visual cultural artifacts associated with extraction directly. I refer to their acts of reappropriation and recontextualization as instances of critical tagging, critical mapping, critical incorporation, and fossil free-ing of artistic materials. The art and media assembled here travel in varied arenas, from galleries to parks to social media platforms, prompting public knowledge production. Collaborations between artists and environmental organizations produce live and virtual collectivities that question petrophilanthropy's logics by using acknowledgement and tagging critically. These artist-activists do not stop with the now familiar revelation of imbrication; they query how the oil industry uses philanthropy to appropriate the domain of the aesthetic and its strategies for disobedience, and they respond in kind by reappropriating the oil industry's aesthetics. Their creations and the media surrounding their work draw attention to oil corporations' use of arts funding mechanisms as a "social license to operate" at the expense of Louisiana's environmental and human health.2 PETROPHILANTHROPY Petrophilanthropy, unlike the term "greenwashing," registers how oil funding operates not only as an ideological veneer but as a cultural form, meaning that it conditions cultural patterns and habits of aesthetic experience. Philanthropic decisions about what gets funded and what does not set the value of artwork and determine which artists' careers are viable. Because of this influence, I extend the term "p
在美国墨西哥湾沿岸及其他地区持续的气候危机时期，南路易斯安那州的艺术家和文化工作者对伴随“石油慈善”而来的一系列物质、美学和伦理问题做出了回应。赖安·米切尔和殖民者殖民城市项目使用的一个术语，用来指石油和天然气行业的慈善活动，这些活动由公司、个人或私人基金会资助，他们的财富来自石油和天然气开采在这篇文章中，我分析了hannah chalew和ana hernandez的艺术和媒体，包括绘画、雕塑、社交媒体帖子和其他项目，这些项目将石油慈善定义为审美和环境斗争的场所。这些艺术家重新利用了石油现代性的代表性实践和文物，包括制图、航空摄影、赞助、标签和将石油产品融入他们的艺术作品中。ana hernandez的反地图标记了采掘工业灾难，在社区GIS项目中找到了概念上的类似物。hannah chalew的作品《与:一辆根茎太阳能车》(Becoming With: A Rhizomatic Solar Cart)在不使用石油的情况下穿过城市的公共空间，象征着一种更广泛的艺术视野，即一种无化石文化，它在批判中聚集在一起。虽然这些审美模式并不仅仅是石油工业的领域，但这些艺术作品直接参考了与开采相关的视觉文化制品。我把他们的重新占有和重新语境化的行为称为批判性标记、批判性映射、批判性整合和艺术材料的化石解放的实例。聚集在这里的艺术和媒体在不同的场所旅行，从画廊到公园再到社交媒体平台，促进了公共知识的生产。艺术家和环保组织之间的合作产生了现实的和虚拟的集体，通过批判性地使用承认和标签来质疑石油慈善事业的逻辑。这些艺术家积极分子并没有止步于现在所熟悉的对砖块的揭露;他们质疑石油业是如何利用慈善事业来侵占美学领域及其不服从的策略的，他们以同样的方式回应，重新侵占石油业的美学。他们的创作和围绕他们工作的媒体引起了人们的注意，石油公司利用艺术资助机制作为“社会经营许可证”，以牺牲路易斯安那州的环境和人类健康为代价与“漂绿”一词不同，石油慈善表明，石油资金不仅是一种意识形态的外衣，而且是一种文化形式，这意味着它制约了文化模式和审美体验的习惯。慈善决策决定了什么可以得到资助，什么不能，这决定了艺术品的价值，并决定了哪些艺术家的职业生涯是可行的。由于这种影响，我将“石油慈善”一词扩展到类型学之外，以命名一系列将石油开采的剥削和剥夺形式等同于仁慈的社会关系。正如Mitchell和Settler Colonial City Project对这一术语的使用所暗示的那样，石油慈善不仅仅局限于慈善如何影响文化机构和慈善交易。Chalew和Hernandez最好地展示了慈善交易是如何使艺术生产的形式成为可能的，同时也排除了艺术家和艺术机构代表由资助他们的公司和基金会造成损害的可能性。“石油慈善”指的是一组在某种意义上显而易见、在另一种意义上却未被充分考虑的社会关系。这个词描述了慈善所蕴含的自由人文主义(“对人类的爱”)与石油资本主义构成的采掘人类中心主义之间的直观关系。因此，石油慈善不仅是慈善活动的实践和领域，而且是一套由资本主义的剥削和剥夺形式所定义的社会关系，超越了雇佣劳动。在路易斯安那州的石油资本主义政权下，黑人和土著居民历来被排除在石油工业的经济利益之外，同时也不成比例地受到工业发展带来的流离失所和环境种族主义的影响。石油资助的艺术项目可以通过赋予该行业“象征性资本”(Pierre Bourdieu)的术语，来提升该行业的形象。“象征性资本”指的是个人或机构为证明其盈利活动的合法性而组织起来的资本形式。根据布迪厄的构想，慈善事业允许捐赠者积累社会资本，进而积累更多的物质资本因此，石油慈善行为……
{"title":"Fossil-Free Cultural Production: Contesting Petrophilanthropy in Contemporary Environmental art and Media","authors":"Annie Bares","doi":"10.1353/asa.2023.a910056","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/asa.2023.a910056","url":null,"abstract":"Fossil-Free Cultural Production:Contesting Petrophilanthropy in Contemporary Environmental art and Media Annie Bares (bio) In a time of ongoing climate crisis in the U.S. Gulf Coast and beyond, South Louisiana artists and culture workers have responded to the host of material, aesthetic, and ethical problems that accompany \"petrophilanthropy,\" a term used by ryan mitchell and the Settler Colonial City Project to denote philanthropic activity of the oil and gas industry funded either by corporations or by individuals or private foundations whose wealth derives from oil and gas extraction.1 In this essay, I analyze art and media by hannah chalew and ana hernandez—including painting, sculpture, social media posts, and other projects—that define petrophilanthropy as a site of aesthetic and environmental struggle. These artists reappropriate petromodernity's representational practices and artifacts, which include mapping, aerial photography, sponsorship, tagging, and incorporating petroleum products into their artwork. ana hernandez's countermaps that mark extractive industrial disaster find conceptual analogues in community [End Page 255] GIS projects. hannah chalew's Becoming With: A Rhizomatic Solar Cart traverses the city's public spaces without using oil, emblematic of a wider artistic vision for a fossil-free culture that assembles as it critiques. While these aesthetic modes are not solely the province of the oil industry, these works of art reference visual cultural artifacts associated with extraction directly. I refer to their acts of reappropriation and recontextualization as instances of critical tagging, critical mapping, critical incorporation, and fossil free-ing of artistic materials. The art and media assembled here travel in varied arenas, from galleries to parks to social media platforms, prompting public knowledge production. Collaborations between artists and environmental organizations produce live and virtual collectivities that question petrophilanthropy's logics by using acknowledgement and tagging critically. These artist-activists do not stop with the now familiar revelation of imbrication; they query how the oil industry uses philanthropy to appropriate the domain of the aesthetic and its strategies for disobedience, and they respond in kind by reappropriating the oil industry's aesthetics. Their creations and the media surrounding their work draw attention to oil corporations' use of arts funding mechanisms as a \"social license to operate\" at the expense of Louisiana's environmental and human health.2 PETROPHILANTHROPY Petrophilanthropy, unlike the term \"greenwashing,\" registers how oil funding operates not only as an ideological veneer but as a cultural form, meaning that it conditions cultural patterns and habits of aesthetic experience. Philanthropic decisions about what gets funded and what does not set the value of artwork and determine which artists' careers are viable. Because of this influence, I extend the term \"p","PeriodicalId":132671,"journal":{"name":"ASAP/Journal","volume":"81 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135563378","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-05-01DOI: 10.1353/asa.2023.a910049
Zeina Tarraf, Nadine Labaki
Cinema, Crisis, and the Plurality of Meaning:An Interview with Nadine Labaki Zeina Tarraf (bio) and Nadine Labaki (bio) When it comes to Lebanese cinema, few names elicit as much spirited contention and instant familiarity as nadine labaki's. While there are many Lebanese filmmakers who have established themselves as worthy auteurs, what originally set labaki apart from her counterparts was her ability to comfortably inhabit the confines of cultural cliques and film festival circuits and simultaneously resonate among a wider local audience. For the longest time, to the ordinary local viewer, nadine labaki was Lebanese cinema. Known initially as the director behind the salacious music videos for Lebanese pop star nancy ajram, labaki's celebrity status was solidified by the fact that she often stars in her own films. She also often appears in the works of other filmmakers who capitalize on her fame to make their films more Click for larger view View full resolution Nadine Labacki by Fares Sokhn [End Page 211] marketable. Most recently, she starred in mounia akel's widely successful Costa Brava, Lebanon (2021): inspired by the trash crisis in Lebanon in 2015, the film is about a family whose seemingly idyllic mountain retreat from the toxicity and social unrest of Beirut is disrupted by the construction of a garbage landfill right outside their home. Labaki herself has frequently used her fame to draw attention to social issues, more particularly the interlocked crises that are currently plaguing Lebanon. Recent examples include a video she produced starring Cate Blanchett that raises awareness about the infamous Beirut Blast, as well as a controversial parody music video encouraging people to plant their own produce as a way of curbing the effects of the currency collapse and the dramatic rise of market prices.1 These different projects evidence the wide scope of Labaki's unique celebrity status. The mass appeal of Labaki and her work alongside the legitimatization of her success by various national and global institutions—from her honorary doctorate from the American University of Beirut to her Academy Award nomination in 2019—showcase Labaki's striking ability to captivate a multitude of diverse audiences. Her directorial career is as varied as her audiences. Her first feature, Caramel (2007), gained prominence for its portrayal of female friendship and intimacy unfolding against the backdrop of a dynamic city. Set mostly in a beauty parlor, and with a vibrant cinematography interlaced with sensual and suggestive images of melting caramel (waxing sugar), the film follows a group of women who navigate different societal pressures. While most Lebanese cinema up to that point had been preoccupied with processing the memory of the fifteen-year civil war (1975–1990), Labaki's film was a refreshing delve into the ordinary and succeeded in "softening Lebanon's image" not only for international audiences whose perception of Lebanon was marred by a medias
说到黎巴嫩电影，很少有名字能像纳丁·拉巴基那样引起如此激烈的争论，并让人立刻熟悉。虽然有许多黎巴嫩电影人已经证明自己是有价值的导演，但最初使labaki与同行不同的是，她能够舒适地居住在文化集团和电影节的范围内，同时在更广泛的当地观众中产生共鸣。长久以来，对于当地的普通观众来说，纳丁·拉巴基就是黎巴嫩电影。拉巴基最初是黎巴嫩流行歌手南希·阿吉拉姆(nancy ajram)的色情音乐视频的导演，她的名人地位因她经常出演自己的电影而巩固。她也经常出现在其他电影制作人的作品中，这些人利用她的名声使他们的电影更加畅销。点击查看大图查看全分辨率纳丁·拉巴基作者:Fares Sokhn [End Page 211]最近，她主演了穆尼亚·阿克尔(mounia akel)执导的《黎巴嫩布拉瓦海岸》(2021)，大获成功。这部电影的灵感来自2015年黎巴嫩的垃圾危机，影片讲述了一个家庭的故事，他们看似田园诗般的山间隐居，以躲避贝鲁特的毒性和社会动荡，但却被他们家外面的垃圾填埋场所破坏。拉巴基本人也经常利用她的名声来引起人们对社会问题的关注，尤其是目前困扰黎巴嫩的环环相扣的危机。最近的例子包括她制作的由凯特·布兰切特(Cate Blanchett)主演的视频，该视频提高了人们对臭名昭著的贝鲁特爆炸事件的认识，以及一个有争议的恶搞音乐视频，鼓励人们种植自己的农产品，以遏制货币崩溃和市场价格急剧上涨的影响这些不同的项目证明了拉巴基独特的名人地位。从贝鲁特美国大学(American University of Beirut)的荣誉博士学位到2019年奥斯卡金像奖(Academy Award)的提名，拉巴基的大众吸引力和她的作品，以及她的成功被各种国家和全球机构合法化，都展示了拉巴基吸引众多不同观众的惊人能力。她的导演生涯和她的观众一样丰富多彩。她的第一部故事片《焦糖》(Caramel, 2007)因描绘了一个充满活力的城市背景下的女性友谊和亲密关系而备受关注。影片主要以一家美容院为背景，充满活力的摄影手法与融化焦糖的性感和暗示性画面交织在一起，讲述了一群女性在不同的社会压力中挣扎的故事。在此之前，大多数黎巴嫩电影都专注于处理15年内战(1975-1990)的记忆，而拉巴基的电影则是对普通事物的一次令人耳目一新的探索，成功地“软化了黎巴嫩的形象”，不仅对那些对黎巴嫩的看法被战争和暴力的媒体景观所破坏的国际观众来说，而且对当地和流亡者的观众来说，他们也热衷于在大银幕上看到自己的另一种表现同样，她的第二部电影《我们现在去哪里?》(2011)，被证明是一部非常有趣的作品，赢得了多伦多电影节的观众奖，并打破了黎巴嫩的票房纪录。在《我们现在要去哪里?》， Labaki确实提出了冲突的主题，跟随一群乡村妇女试图转移她们生活中的男人远离内战的困境。不过，她的语气基本上还是轻松愉快的。他们的滑稽行为包括雇佣俄罗斯妓女，假装精神启示，最终在男人的食物中加入大麻。最后，拉巴基最新的，也许是最成功的，也是最具争议的电影《迦百农》(2018)，与她之前的电影结构大相径庭，揭示了黎巴嫩贫困、边缘化和无证社区的生活。这部电影为她赢得了多项荣誉，包括奥斯卡提名，戛纳电影节15分钟的起立鼓掌，以及电影节令人垂涎的评审团奖。虽然许多人已经认识到拉巴基作品的重要性，特别是它引发了关于性别及其与国家政治的纠缠的对话，以及她通过强有力地吸引多样化的“维持复杂的清晰表现”的能力……
{"title":"Cinema, Crisis, and the Plurality of Meaning: An Interview with Nadine Labaki","authors":"Zeina Tarraf, Nadine Labaki","doi":"10.1353/asa.2023.a910049","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/asa.2023.a910049","url":null,"abstract":"Cinema, Crisis, and the Plurality of Meaning:An Interview with Nadine Labaki Zeina Tarraf (bio) and Nadine Labaki (bio) When it comes to Lebanese cinema, few names elicit as much spirited contention and instant familiarity as nadine labaki's. While there are many Lebanese filmmakers who have established themselves as worthy auteurs, what originally set labaki apart from her counterparts was her ability to comfortably inhabit the confines of cultural cliques and film festival circuits and simultaneously resonate among a wider local audience. For the longest time, to the ordinary local viewer, nadine labaki was Lebanese cinema. Known initially as the director behind the salacious music videos for Lebanese pop star nancy ajram, labaki's celebrity status was solidified by the fact that she often stars in her own films. She also often appears in the works of other filmmakers who capitalize on her fame to make their films more Click for larger view View full resolution Nadine Labacki by Fares Sokhn [End Page 211] marketable. Most recently, she starred in mounia akel's widely successful Costa Brava, Lebanon (2021): inspired by the trash crisis in Lebanon in 2015, the film is about a family whose seemingly idyllic mountain retreat from the toxicity and social unrest of Beirut is disrupted by the construction of a garbage landfill right outside their home. Labaki herself has frequently used her fame to draw attention to social issues, more particularly the interlocked crises that are currently plaguing Lebanon. Recent examples include a video she produced starring Cate Blanchett that raises awareness about the infamous Beirut Blast, as well as a controversial parody music video encouraging people to plant their own produce as a way of curbing the effects of the currency collapse and the dramatic rise of market prices.1 These different projects evidence the wide scope of Labaki's unique celebrity status. The mass appeal of Labaki and her work alongside the legitimatization of her success by various national and global institutions—from her honorary doctorate from the American University of Beirut to her Academy Award nomination in 2019—showcase Labaki's striking ability to captivate a multitude of diverse audiences. Her directorial career is as varied as her audiences. Her first feature, Caramel (2007), gained prominence for its portrayal of female friendship and intimacy unfolding against the backdrop of a dynamic city. Set mostly in a beauty parlor, and with a vibrant cinematography interlaced with sensual and suggestive images of melting caramel (waxing sugar), the film follows a group of women who navigate different societal pressures. While most Lebanese cinema up to that point had been preoccupied with processing the memory of the fifteen-year civil war (1975–1990), Labaki's film was a refreshing delve into the ordinary and succeeded in \"softening Lebanon's image\" not only for international audiences whose perception of Lebanon was marred by a medias","PeriodicalId":132671,"journal":{"name":"ASAP/Journal","volume":"62 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135563377","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-05-01DOI: 10.1353/asa.2023.a910058
Oded Nir
How to End an Ending?Moving beyond Crisis in Israeli Culture Oded Nir (bio) The experience of crisis means—among other things—a collapse of our sense of time: our ordinary expectations are completely thwarted; our sense of what comes next and how reality operates are at once suspended. Thus, any artistic engagement with permanent crisis entails a preoccupation with time and its rehabilitation or reconstruction. In his latest book, How to Read a Moment, mathias nilges articulates in a new way American fiction's relation to this collapse of temporality. nilges starts by marking a certain shift in the way we perceive this relationship: he offers an encyclopedic survey of criticisms of the absence of temporality, of the stubborn permanent present.1 To understand the importance of nilges's intervention, one should note the newness of these criticisms. In the 1980s and '90s, to argue that our ability to imagine time has completely eroded was a deeply critical statement. Mostly because this crisis of historicity, as fredric jameson put it in the 1980s, was not usually [End Page 301] perceived as a problem, but as a solution; famously, the demise of metanarratives was one of the names that solution went by.2 According to nilges, jameson's once-minoritarian view has now become dominant: in every sphere, from art criticism to economics, everyone seems to agree that we have lost our ability to imagine time, and that it has become a problem for our ability to exert agency over our future—quite an acute problem, faced with climate catastrophe and the global rise of authoritarianism.3 To argue, like nilges, that American fiction today increasingly tries to reimagine time, or overcome this crisis, is to go beyond simply marking the crisis itself. It can be argued that the crisis in our ability to imagine time only appears as a problem when it coincides with a present in which our lives as they have hitherto been structured become unsustainable. The essential role played by the symbolic realm here should not be overlooked: the crucial moment is one in which one begins signifying something as a problem. The minimal act of naming our moment as one of permanent crisis betrays that some of this resignifying effort has already taken place, because now one approaches this present by seeking to escape it or change it.4 It is this transformation—in which we suddenly begin to perceive something as a problem—that interests me in this essay, as it appears in Israeli literature. The Israeli context is significantly different than the American one, in ways that I cannot explore extensively here. One should briefly note, however, that the symbolic importance of the Palestine/Israel antagonism in Israeli politics, makes it a privileged node for the articulation of the crisis of time in the case of Israel. FIRST AS SOLUTION, THEN AS PROBLEM: THE CRISIS OF TEMPORALITY IN ISRAELI IDEOLOGY AND FICTION Within the symbolic space of "the conflict," one evocative example of the crisis
如何结束一个结局?危机的经历意味着——在其他事情中——我们时间观念的崩溃:我们平常的期望完全被挫败;我们对接下来会发生什么以及现实如何运作的感觉立刻被搁置了。因此，任何与永久危机的艺术接触都需要对时间及其恢复或重建的关注。在他的新书《如何阅读瞬间》(How to Read a Moment)中，马蒂亚斯·尼尔斯(mathias nilges)以一种新的方式阐述了美国小说与这种时间性崩溃的关系。尼尔吉斯一开始就标记了我们感知这种关系的方式的某种转变:他提供了一个百科全书式的调查，批判了时间性的缺失，对顽固的永久存在的批判要理解尼尔吉斯干预的重要性，我们应该注意到这些批评的新颖性。在20世纪80年代和90年代，认为我们想象时间的能力已经完全消失是一种非常批判性的说法。主要是因为，正如弗雷德里克·詹姆森(frederic jameson)在20世纪80年代所说，这种历史性危机通常不被视为一个问题，而是一种解决方案;众所周知，元叙事的消亡是解决方案所使用的名称之一根据尼尔斯的说法，詹姆逊曾经的少数派观点现在已经成为主流:在每个领域，从艺术批评到经济学，每个人似乎都同意，我们已经失去了想象时间的能力，这已经成为我们对未来施加代理能力的一个问题——面对气候灾难和威权主义的全球崛起，这是一个相当尖锐的问题像尼尔吉斯一样，认为今天的美国小说越来越多地试图重新想象时间，或克服这场危机，这已经超越了简单地标记危机本身。可以说，只有当我们想象时间的能力出现危机时，我们迄今为止的生活结构变得不可持续，这种危机才会成为一个问题。符号领域在这里扮演的重要角色不应该被忽视:关键时刻是一个人开始将某物作为一个问题来表示的时刻。把我们的时刻命名为一个永久的危机时刻，这种最小的行为暴露了这种放弃的努力已经发生了，因为现在人们通过寻求逃避或改变它来接近这个现实正是这种转变——在这种转变中，我们突然开始将某些东西视为一个问题——引起了我对这篇文章的兴趣，因为它出现在以色列文学中。以色列的情况与美国的情况有很大的不同，我无法在这里深入探讨。然而，我们应该简要地注意到，巴以对抗在以色列政治中的象征重要性，使其成为表达以色列时间危机的特权节点。在“冲突”的象征性空间中，一个令人回味的时间危机的例子是一个建筑:2009年在以色列小镇斯德洛特建造的炸弹掩体游乐场，离巴勒斯坦城市加沙不远。掩体游乐场是为了让镇上的孩子们在遭受导弹袭击时不受干扰地玩耍。应当指出，这些导弹袭击是巴勒斯坦人对以色列继续暴力镇压和剥夺巴勒斯坦人的报复。斯德洛特还有一个额外的阶级和种族维度，以及以色列社会内部的炸弹避难所:正如以色列周边城镇的很多情况一样，斯德洛特的人口绝大多数是穷人和米兹拉奇人。米兹拉契人是中东和亚洲国家移民的后裔，是以色列犹太人。从历史上看，他们在以色列社会中被边缘化5，这种边缘化在地理上表现为在斯德洛特等边境城镇为他们提供住房6。通过对巴勒斯坦人和米兹拉齐人的持续压迫来理解斯德洛特是很常见的。通过不存在未来或时间本身来考虑它的情况要少见得多。因为地堡操场是一个完美的建筑形象，自然而……
{"title":"How to End an Ending? Moving beyond Crisis in Israeli Culture","authors":"Oded Nir","doi":"10.1353/asa.2023.a910058","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/asa.2023.a910058","url":null,"abstract":"How to End an Ending?Moving beyond Crisis in Israeli Culture Oded Nir (bio) The experience of crisis means—among other things—a collapse of our sense of time: our ordinary expectations are completely thwarted; our sense of what comes next and how reality operates are at once suspended. Thus, any artistic engagement with permanent crisis entails a preoccupation with time and its rehabilitation or reconstruction. In his latest book, How to Read a Moment, mathias nilges articulates in a new way American fiction's relation to this collapse of temporality. nilges starts by marking a certain shift in the way we perceive this relationship: he offers an encyclopedic survey of criticisms of the absence of temporality, of the stubborn permanent present.1 To understand the importance of nilges's intervention, one should note the newness of these criticisms. In the 1980s and '90s, to argue that our ability to imagine time has completely eroded was a deeply critical statement. Mostly because this crisis of historicity, as fredric jameson put it in the 1980s, was not usually [End Page 301] perceived as a problem, but as a solution; famously, the demise of metanarratives was one of the names that solution went by.2 According to nilges, jameson's once-minoritarian view has now become dominant: in every sphere, from art criticism to economics, everyone seems to agree that we have lost our ability to imagine time, and that it has become a problem for our ability to exert agency over our future—quite an acute problem, faced with climate catastrophe and the global rise of authoritarianism.3 To argue, like nilges, that American fiction today increasingly tries to reimagine time, or overcome this crisis, is to go beyond simply marking the crisis itself. It can be argued that the crisis in our ability to imagine time only appears as a problem when it coincides with a present in which our lives as they have hitherto been structured become unsustainable. The essential role played by the symbolic realm here should not be overlooked: the crucial moment is one in which one begins signifying something as a problem. The minimal act of naming our moment as one of permanent crisis betrays that some of this resignifying effort has already taken place, because now one approaches this present by seeking to escape it or change it.4 It is this transformation—in which we suddenly begin to perceive something as a problem—that interests me in this essay, as it appears in Israeli literature. The Israeli context is significantly different than the American one, in ways that I cannot explore extensively here. One should briefly note, however, that the symbolic importance of the Palestine/Israel antagonism in Israeli politics, makes it a privileged node for the articulation of the crisis of time in the case of Israel. FIRST AS SOLUTION, THEN AS PROBLEM: THE CRISIS OF TEMPORALITY IN ISRAELI IDEOLOGY AND FICTION Within the symbolic space of \"the conflict,\" one evocative example of the crisis","PeriodicalId":132671,"journal":{"name":"ASAP/Journal","volume":"116 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135563373","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-05-01DOI: 10.1353/asa.2023.a910054
Elda María Román
Fears of the Forever Crisis Elda María Román (bio) They may not say "the forever crisis" explicitly, but both my mother and my friend Chris have pantry staples forever stocked up. Long before the COVID-19 pandemic, they planned for scarcity. In case the lights fail, my mother has candles in every size. Bags of rice and beans just in case. Walk into Chris's kitchen and you'll see cans lining the walls. Past, present, and future catastrophes are remembered and anticipated in stackable items. While my mother hoards, my father retreats in ways a working-class man can. To his room, to a screen. What I once thought was anger and apathy, I now see as high anxiety. If my father could have us all on a compound, with no one coming or going, that would be his ideal living situation. My mom agrees. My mom saw slow deaths through poverty, my father fast ones. As a young adult, he saw teachers massacred by the police when they [End Page 244] tried to protest for educational reforms in Mexico. My parents now live in Providence, Rhode Island with a compartmentalized terror that the bottom could drop at any moment. Meanwhile, those with far more resources than my parents prepare for oncoming societal and economic collapses by ensuring they can shelter themselves from the masses. Gated communities in the U.S. started to increase in the 1980s and are now a global phenomenon. The One Percent is also securing access to bunkers and domes and super yachts. Across class, people are stockpiling weapons and arsenals. _______ For many in the U.S., there's a sense that an inevitable super crisis looms ahead. Civil or World War or complete planet devastation. With social media, we may feel more informed but also overwhelmed, our minds and bodies tasked to deal with the micro and macro at a speed and scale unprecedented. Philosopher Paul Virilio argues that there's been an "acceleration of reality."1 Virilio was a child in France during World War II and experienced the "Blitzkrieg and the war of the radio waves," feeling firsthand the kinds of occupations that are physical as well as mental.2 As Virilio puts it, "Fear was once a phenomenon related to localized, identifiable events that were limited to a certain timeframe: wars, famines, epidemics."3 Now, however, due to technology and the rapid and constant spread of propaganda, "[f]ear is a world, panic as a 'whole.'"4 Virilio's book The Administration of Fear is structured as an interview and when asked how he delt with this fear, he answers: "When the world becomes uninhabitable, we turn to cliques and tribes, even if they are largely imaginary."5 That we turn to a bounded sense of community when we feel so threatened makes sense to me. Evident in how people formed pods during the pandemic. Evident in how the white power movement capitalizes on people's fears to fight for the preservation of white status. External and internal states are inextricably linked, and some feel safer with boundaries against the outside, against
对永远的危机的恐惧Elda María Román(生物)他们可能不会明确地说“永远的危机”，但我母亲和我的朋友克里斯都有食品储藏室里永远储存的主食。早在COVID-19大流行之前，他们就为物资短缺做了计划。万一灯坏了，我妈妈有各种大小的蜡烛。几袋大米和豆子以防万一。走进克里斯的厨房，你会看到墙上挂着罐头。过去、现在和未来的灾难都在可堆叠的项目中被记住和预测。当我母亲在囤积时，我父亲却以工人阶级的方式在退缩。去他的房间，去一个屏风。我曾经认为是愤怒和冷漠，现在我认为是高度焦虑。如果我父亲能让我们都住在一个院子里，没有人进出，那将是他理想的生活状态。我妈妈也同意。我母亲目睹了贫穷导致的缓慢死亡，我父亲目睹了快速死亡。作为一个年轻的成年人，他看到教师被警察屠杀，因为他们试图抗议墨西哥的教育改革。我的父母现在住在罗得岛州的普罗维登斯，他们时时刻刻都担心生活会跌入谷底。与此同时，那些比我父母拥有更多资源的人，通过确保自己能够躲避大众，为即将到来的社会和经济崩溃做好准备。美国的封闭式社区在20世纪80年代开始增加，现在已成为一种全球现象。百分之一的人还可以使用地堡，圆顶和超级游艇。在各个阶层，人们都在囤积武器和军火库。_______对许多美国人来说，一场不可避免的超级危机正在逼近。内战或世界大战或整个地球毁灭。有了社交媒体，我们可能会觉得更有见识，但也会感到不知所措，我们的思想和身体要以前所未有的速度和规模处理微观和宏观问题。哲学家保罗·维利里奥(Paul Virilio)认为存在“现实的加速”。第二次世界大战期间，维利里奥在法国还是个孩子，他经历了“闪电战和无线电波战争”，亲身感受了各种职业对身体和精神的影响正如Virilio所说，“恐惧曾经是一种与局部、可识别的事件有关的现象，这些事件仅限于特定的时间框架:战争、饥荒、流行病。”然而，现在，由于技术和宣传的迅速和持续传播，“耳朵是一个世界，恐慌是一个整体”。’”维利里奥的书《恐惧的管理》(The Administration of Fear)是一个采访，当被问及他如何处理这种恐惧时，他回答说:“当世界变得无法居住时，我们就会求助于派系和部落，即使它们在很大程度上是想象出来的。在我看来，当我们感到受到威胁时，我们求助于一种有限的社区意识是有道理的。在大流行期间，人们是如何形成豆荚的。白人权力运动是如何利用人们的恐惧来为维护白人地位而斗争的，这一点很明显。外部和内部状态是不可分割地联系在一起的，有些人觉得与外部和其他国家的边界更安全。另一些人则在转向内心时感到更安全。人们努力阻止市场受到监管，以免引发经济和环境危机，但冥想应用程序承诺，我们可以学会自我监管。一家公司声称，通过进入他们的神经反馈舱，你可以在五天内获得四十年冥想的好处。_______我的朋友克里斯也住在洛杉矶，他是科尔维尔联盟部落的一员，通过与他的交谈，我意识到我们父母所经历的恐惧遗传给了我们多少。当她带我去好市多，一个让她感到安全的地方，我觉得她在和我分享一些特别的东西。现在，我对装满冰箱和为将来“万一”而购买的不易腐烂的物品有了不同的看法。“你不必压抑人们的恐惧和愤怒，”她提醒我。和克里斯在一起，我也可以诚实地寻求理解。我要学的东西太多了……
{"title":"Fears of the Forever Crisis","authors":"Elda María Román","doi":"10.1353/asa.2023.a910054","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/asa.2023.a910054","url":null,"abstract":"Fears of the Forever Crisis Elda María Román (bio) They may not say \"the forever crisis\" explicitly, but both my mother and my friend Chris have pantry staples forever stocked up. Long before the COVID-19 pandemic, they planned for scarcity. In case the lights fail, my mother has candles in every size. Bags of rice and beans just in case. Walk into Chris's kitchen and you'll see cans lining the walls. Past, present, and future catastrophes are remembered and anticipated in stackable items. While my mother hoards, my father retreats in ways a working-class man can. To his room, to a screen. What I once thought was anger and apathy, I now see as high anxiety. If my father could have us all on a compound, with no one coming or going, that would be his ideal living situation. My mom agrees. My mom saw slow deaths through poverty, my father fast ones. As a young adult, he saw teachers massacred by the police when they [End Page 244] tried to protest for educational reforms in Mexico. My parents now live in Providence, Rhode Island with a compartmentalized terror that the bottom could drop at any moment. Meanwhile, those with far more resources than my parents prepare for oncoming societal and economic collapses by ensuring they can shelter themselves from the masses. Gated communities in the U.S. started to increase in the 1980s and are now a global phenomenon. The One Percent is also securing access to bunkers and domes and super yachts. Across class, people are stockpiling weapons and arsenals. _______ For many in the U.S., there's a sense that an inevitable super crisis looms ahead. Civil or World War or complete planet devastation. With social media, we may feel more informed but also overwhelmed, our minds and bodies tasked to deal with the micro and macro at a speed and scale unprecedented. Philosopher Paul Virilio argues that there's been an \"acceleration of reality.\"1 Virilio was a child in France during World War II and experienced the \"Blitzkrieg and the war of the radio waves,\" feeling firsthand the kinds of occupations that are physical as well as mental.2 As Virilio puts it, \"Fear was once a phenomenon related to localized, identifiable events that were limited to a certain timeframe: wars, famines, epidemics.\"3 Now, however, due to technology and the rapid and constant spread of propaganda, \"[f]ear is a world, panic as a 'whole.'\"4 Virilio's book The Administration of Fear is structured as an interview and when asked how he delt with this fear, he answers: \"When the world becomes uninhabitable, we turn to cliques and tribes, even if they are largely imaginary.\"5 That we turn to a bounded sense of community when we feel so threatened makes sense to me. Evident in how people formed pods during the pandemic. Evident in how the white power movement capitalizes on people's fears to fight for the preservation of white status. External and internal states are inextricably linked, and some feel safer with boundaries against the outside, against ","PeriodicalId":132671,"journal":{"name":"ASAP/Journal","volume":"74 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135563376","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-05-01DOI: 10.1353/asa.2023.a910060
Janet Kong-Chow
Costs of Living:Visualizing Subprime Taxonomies Janet Kong-Chow (bio) On December 22, 1781, a ship arrived in Black River, Jamaica. It might have been an otherwise pedestrian event, were it not for the Zong's status as a "floating crime scene": during its treacherous voyage across the Atlantic, the captain ordered hundreds of enslaved African captives thrown overboard.1 He believed that any enslaved person who died aboard of natural causes, which included illness, would be at a loss to the ship's owners, but those "thrown alive into the sea … would be the loss of the underwriters."2 And so the offense, historically, was not murder; what eventually went to litigation in England was a matter of insurance. What survives in the archive can only tell the story of the Zong in such a way that nearly excises the lived presence of these Africans. The facts of the case available to us mirror the investments of empire, which is to say that documentation follows the logics of finance capitalism. The victims are not even the dead themselves, but those who stood to profit from their speculative sale and death, the latter secured through insurance. The callousness of this relationship, or rather, its transactional nature through murder, became a significant event in the long campaign for the abolition of slavery—but the wound remains. That which transformed human into cargo, death into profit, and rationalized violence with impunity did not disappear with abolition. We are discouraged from seeing it fully, and this ability to circulate globally without significant visual spectacle contributes to its continued [End Page 355] endurance and growth. In what follows, I consider three artists whose work disrupts epistemologies of financial risk, arguing that their practices of fragmentation and taxonomy visualize concealed entanglements of subprime economies without reproducing parallel relations of commodification, extraction, and profit so intrinsic to racial capitalism. Making the invisible visible, then, is also an exercise in answering Kimberly Bain's provocation: "What do we do when the serrated edges of racialization, property, and extraction have flayed open Black flesh and earthly matter to make both available to the privations and deprivations of racial capitalism?"3 In other words, in this system of racial capitalism, differentiations of race are capital, forever producing hierarchies of value once historically appended to the body but now, like modern finance capitalism, can circulate abstractly, no longer a feature of a commodity but the commodity itself. The questions that animate this essay come from my desire to understand the contemporary interplay of financial risk, racialized labor extraction, and visual culture. And while it would be easy to enumerate the many formulas through which value (especially that realized through racialized difference and labor) accumulates, I am more interested in the idea that financial speculation is, at its core, a fo
{"title":"Costs of Living: Visualizing Subprime Taxonomies","authors":"Janet Kong-Chow","doi":"10.1353/asa.2023.a910060","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/asa.2023.a910060","url":null,"abstract":"Costs of Living:Visualizing Subprime Taxonomies Janet Kong-Chow (bio) On December 22, 1781, a ship arrived in Black River, Jamaica. It might have been an otherwise pedestrian event, were it not for the Zong's status as a \"floating crime scene\": during its treacherous voyage across the Atlantic, the captain ordered hundreds of enslaved African captives thrown overboard.1 He believed that any enslaved person who died aboard of natural causes, which included illness, would be at a loss to the ship's owners, but those \"thrown alive into the sea … would be the loss of the underwriters.\"2 And so the offense, historically, was not murder; what eventually went to litigation in England was a matter of insurance. What survives in the archive can only tell the story of the Zong in such a way that nearly excises the lived presence of these Africans. The facts of the case available to us mirror the investments of empire, which is to say that documentation follows the logics of finance capitalism. The victims are not even the dead themselves, but those who stood to profit from their speculative sale and death, the latter secured through insurance. The callousness of this relationship, or rather, its transactional nature through murder, became a significant event in the long campaign for the abolition of slavery—but the wound remains. That which transformed human into cargo, death into profit, and rationalized violence with impunity did not disappear with abolition. We are discouraged from seeing it fully, and this ability to circulate globally without significant visual spectacle contributes to its continued [End Page 355] endurance and growth. In what follows, I consider three artists whose work disrupts epistemologies of financial risk, arguing that their practices of fragmentation and taxonomy visualize concealed entanglements of subprime economies without reproducing parallel relations of commodification, extraction, and profit so intrinsic to racial capitalism. Making the invisible visible, then, is also an exercise in answering Kimberly Bain's provocation: \"What do we do when the serrated edges of racialization, property, and extraction have flayed open Black flesh and earthly matter to make both available to the privations and deprivations of racial capitalism?\"3 In other words, in this system of racial capitalism, differentiations of race are capital, forever producing hierarchies of value once historically appended to the body but now, like modern finance capitalism, can circulate abstractly, no longer a feature of a commodity but the commodity itself. The questions that animate this essay come from my desire to understand the contemporary interplay of financial risk, racialized labor extraction, and visual culture. And while it would be easy to enumerate the many formulas through which value (especially that realized through racialized difference and labor) accumulates, I am more interested in the idea that financial speculation is, at its core, a fo","PeriodicalId":132671,"journal":{"name":"ASAP/Journal","volume":"8 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135563382","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-05-01DOI: 10.1353/asa.2023.a910052
Trisha Federis Remetir
Shifting Atmospheres in Typhoon Media Trisha Federis Remetir (bio) In the Philippines' wet season, a time when storms and floods visit the archipelago, boundaries between land and water dissolve. Typhoons—strong, tropical cyclones that move across the Pacific and trudge through the southern part of the Philippine islands at an increasingly devastating rate—take center stage on international livestreams, reassemble relations of sight and sound, and, finally, reveal longstanding political and historical fractures in the archipelago. Groundbreaking work from Rina Garcia Chua and Jeffrey Santa Ana have explored what it means to engage with typhoons in written works, citing literature's possibility to act as a witness or social memory to ecological crisis and global capitalist development.1 Yet, moving from text to film, I find that film and media projects oftentimes run up against their representational limits when seeking to cover typhoon events. Why is that the case? In this response, I consider recent visual experiments in typhoon media to ask what breaks down in the face of typhoons. The following examples of typhoon media show how impossible of a task it is to capture the typhoon event within a single genre or narrative. Further, the way that these news segments, home videos, and experimental documentaries try—and sometimes fail—to shift typhoons from background to foreground reveal everyday, material realities of living in ongoing global capitalist crisis. Mainstream media typically responds to typhoons by swiveling between macro- and micro-scales of representation, revealing the chasm between collective and individual grief. For example, when Super Typhoon Yolanda (known globally as Typhoon Haiyan) hit Tacloban City in the southern Philippines in 2013—resulting in more than six thousand deaths, the long-term displacement of people in Eastern Visayas, and months of uncertainty as communication lines went down—news segments wove top-down satellite images of storm systems with on-the-ground interviews of survivors in a way to translate across these scales of loss. Yet, in one well-remembered news clip, noted Filipino TV journalist Jessica Soho visited Tacloban City days after Typhoon Yolanda hit.2 Although the eleven-minute clip initially begins with Soho surveying the damage of the local airport, the segment quickly segues into interviews of survivors attempting to speak to their families beyond the broken telephone lines. As more and more survivors [End Page 235] interrupt the film camera crew to address their loved ones through national TV, the filmmakers eventually give way and keep the camera on to center the survivors (Fig. 1). In the way that the shot duration lengthens, and the way that the camera readjusts its gaze from Soho to the survivors, the genre of the quick news segment becomes productively misused and coincidentally finds new purpose in the wake of Tacloban City's infrastructural damage. Homemade videos on aggregator sites such
在菲律宾的雨季，风暴和洪水袭击这个群岛的时候，陆地和水之间的界限消失了。台风——横跨太平洋的强热带气旋，以越来越快的破坏性席卷菲律宾群岛南部——占据了国际直播的中心舞台，重新组合了视觉和听觉的关系，并最终揭示了这个群岛长期存在的政治和历史裂痕。丽娜·加西亚·蔡(Rina Garcia Chua)和杰弗里·圣安娜(Jeffrey Santa Ana)开创性的作品探索了在书面作品中参与台风的意义，并引用了文学作为生态危机和全球资本主义发展的见证人或社会记忆的可能性然而，从文本到电影，我发现电影和媒体项目在寻求报道台风事件时经常遇到代表性的限制。为什么会这样呢?在这个回应中，我考虑了最近在台风媒体上的视觉实验，以询问在台风面前什么会崩溃。以下台风媒体的例子表明，在单一类型或叙述中捕捉台风事件是多么不可能的任务。此外，这些新闻片段、家庭录像和实验性纪录片试图——有时失败了——将台风从背景转移到前景，揭示了生活在持续的全球资本主义危机中的日常物质现实。主流媒体对台风的反应通常是在宏观和微观的表现尺度之间旋转，揭示集体和个人悲痛之间的鸿沟。例如，2013年，当超级台风“尤兰达”(全球称为台风海燕)袭击菲律宾南部的塔克洛班市时，造成6000多人死亡，东米沙鄢群岛的人们长期流离失所，通讯线路中断导致数月的不确定性，新闻报道将自上而下的风暴系统卫星图像与对幸存者的实地采访交织在一起，以传递这些损失的规模。然而，在一个令人难忘的新闻片段中，菲律宾著名电视记者杰西卡·苏荷在台风“尤兰达”袭击后几天访问了塔克洛班市虽然这段11分钟的视频一开始是苏豪调查当地机场的破坏情况，但这段视频很快就进入了幸存者的采访，他们试图通过破碎的电话线与家人交谈。随着越来越多的幸存者(页235)中断电影摄制组来解决他们的亲人通过国家电视制片人最终让步,保持相机中心幸存者(图1)。射击持续时间的延长,和相机的方式调整其目光从Soho幸存者,快速的新闻体裁的部分变得有成效地滥用,巧合的是发现新的目标后,塔克洛班市城市基础设施的损失。另一方面，YouTube等聚合网站上的自制视频向我们展示了相机设备在台风风暴中是如何瘫痪的，揭示了简单的拍摄行为是如何需要审美实验的。“台风雷明(1)”、“台风雷明(2)”和“台风雷明(3)”是用户“llienegram”在2006年12月12日，也就是4级超级台风经过比可尔地区几天后上传的仅有的三个视频在“台风雷明(3)”中，一台手持相机从车库遮阳篷外向外看，记录了台风雷明的狂风(图2)。棕榈树在模糊的灰色背景中弯曲摇摆。台风的声音打在相机的麦克风上，就像打在下巴上一样。一个声音从镜头后面出现，穿过台风的声音墙，回响而微弱地说:“雷明的愤怒”，接着是一阵笑声，盖过了呼啸的狂风。电影研究点击查看大图查看全分辨率图1镜头不稳定地移动，镜头的焦点从电视记者杰西卡·苏荷(右，戴着蓝色兜帽)转移到台风“约兰达”在塔克洛班市的幸存者(覆盖，中间)。“卡普索莫，杰西卡苏荷:超级台风尤兰达的后果”的截图。(来源:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJSes3-_y8c)[结束页236]点击查看大图查看全分辨率图2。手持相机逐渐呈现…
{"title":"Shifting Atmospheres in Typhoon Media","authors":"Trisha Federis Remetir","doi":"10.1353/asa.2023.a910052","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/asa.2023.a910052","url":null,"abstract":"Shifting Atmospheres in Typhoon Media Trisha Federis Remetir (bio) In the Philippines' wet season, a time when storms and floods visit the archipelago, boundaries between land and water dissolve. Typhoons—strong, tropical cyclones that move across the Pacific and trudge through the southern part of the Philippine islands at an increasingly devastating rate—take center stage on international livestreams, reassemble relations of sight and sound, and, finally, reveal longstanding political and historical fractures in the archipelago. Groundbreaking work from Rina Garcia Chua and Jeffrey Santa Ana have explored what it means to engage with typhoons in written works, citing literature's possibility to act as a witness or social memory to ecological crisis and global capitalist development.1 Yet, moving from text to film, I find that film and media projects oftentimes run up against their representational limits when seeking to cover typhoon events. Why is that the case? In this response, I consider recent visual experiments in typhoon media to ask what breaks down in the face of typhoons. The following examples of typhoon media show how impossible of a task it is to capture the typhoon event within a single genre or narrative. Further, the way that these news segments, home videos, and experimental documentaries try—and sometimes fail—to shift typhoons from background to foreground reveal everyday, material realities of living in ongoing global capitalist crisis. Mainstream media typically responds to typhoons by swiveling between macro- and micro-scales of representation, revealing the chasm between collective and individual grief. For example, when Super Typhoon Yolanda (known globally as Typhoon Haiyan) hit Tacloban City in the southern Philippines in 2013—resulting in more than six thousand deaths, the long-term displacement of people in Eastern Visayas, and months of uncertainty as communication lines went down—news segments wove top-down satellite images of storm systems with on-the-ground interviews of survivors in a way to translate across these scales of loss. Yet, in one well-remembered news clip, noted Filipino TV journalist Jessica Soho visited Tacloban City days after Typhoon Yolanda hit.2 Although the eleven-minute clip initially begins with Soho surveying the damage of the local airport, the segment quickly segues into interviews of survivors attempting to speak to their families beyond the broken telephone lines. As more and more survivors [End Page 235] interrupt the film camera crew to address their loved ones through national TV, the filmmakers eventually give way and keep the camera on to center the survivors (Fig. 1). In the way that the shot duration lengthens, and the way that the camera readjusts its gaze from Soho to the survivors, the genre of the quick news segment becomes productively misused and coincidentally finds new purpose in the wake of Tacloban City's infrastructural damage. Homemade videos on aggregator sites such ","PeriodicalId":132671,"journal":{"name":"ASAP/Journal","volume":"11 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135563371","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-05-01DOI: 10.1353/asa.2023.a910057
Matthew Pratt Guterl
The Curious Case of Ariana Grande:Racial Passing in the Present Matthew Pratt Guterl (bio) In late August 2018, at a commemorative event at Detroit's Greater Grace Temple meant to mark aretha franklin's death, singer and pop chanteuse ariana grande performed a version of "A Natural Woman." stevie wonder sang that same day. So did jennifer hudson, yolanda adams, faith hill, and chaka khan, along with many others. All of them stood on the raised dais of the church, facing out to the audience as they performed, their backs to the row of distinguished guests. Former President bill clinton was there, lightly slapping his thighs to the beat of the music. So were jesse jackson, al sharpton, and louis farrakhan. Franklin had passed away on August 16, following a long struggle with pancreatic cancer, and Grande had been invited by the event's planners after she shared a series of heartfelt tributes. In the midst of promoting her new album, Sweetener, which had been released the day after Franklin's death, Grande posted a grainy black and white snapshot of she and Franklin, accompanied by the outline of dozens of hearts, drained of their normal blood red color. The next day, appearing on The Tonight Show, she performed a stirring rendition of "A Natural Woman." "I met her a few times," Grande told host Jimmy Fallon. "We sang at the White House, and she was so sweet and she was so cute. I was like, 'How are you a real person?' It's an honor to have met her."1 Franklin's family was moved by the young performer's words and invited her to join an already star-studded tribute. [End Page 279] Every song performed that day in Detroit was a masterpiece linked to the stylings of the departed Queen of Soul.2 Fittingly, Grande's choice was the same song she performed on the set of The Tonight Show: "A Natural Woman," an ode to sex, to the power of a kiss to provide direction and certainty to someone who needed it. Wearing a sleeveless, short black dress with stiletto heels, she closed her eyes as she sang and rocked back and forth, facing an audience of roughly four thousand. A small silver choker on her neck, the luxurious, signature ponytail dangling behind her, Grande's voice—higher and thinner than Franklin's—was buttressed by a phalanx of Black gospel singers. She was the second performer that day, following Faith Hill, whose exhortative rendition of "What a Friend We Have in Jesus" only thirty minutes earlier had brought the distinguished guests on the podium to their feet and had the audience singing in the aisles. Unlike Hill, who raised her hands, looked out into the crowd, and moved rapidly around the stage, Grande delivered a restrained and somber performance that day, reflecting her youth and the song's introspective tone. As the song came to an end, the camera's live video feed cut to audience members, Black and white, cheering for Grande. The applause died down rapidly, and soft piano music could be heard, as Bishop Charles H. Ellis, III—the emcee for t
2018年8月下旬，在底特律大格雷斯神庙举行的纪念艾瑞莎·富兰克林去世的活动上，歌手兼流行女歌手爱莉安娜·格兰德演唱了一首《天生的女人》，同一天，史蒂夫·旺德演唱了这首歌。珍妮弗·哈德森、尤兰达·亚当斯、费斯·希尔、查卡·汗以及其他许多人也是如此。他们都站在教堂的高台上，在表演时面向观众，背对着一排贵宾。前总统比尔·克林顿也在场，他随着音乐的节拍轻轻拍打着大腿。还有杰西·杰克逊，艾尔·夏普顿和路易斯·法拉肯。富兰克林在与胰腺癌长期斗争后于8月16日去世，格兰德在发表了一系列衷心的悼词后，应活动策划者的邀请。在弗兰克林去世后第二天发行的新专辑《Sweetener》的宣传中，格兰德发布了一张她和弗兰克林的黑白照片，照片上有几十颗心脏的轮廓，已经没有了正常的血红色。第二天，在《今夜秀》(The Tonight Show)上，她表演了一首激动人心的《天生的女人》(a Natural Woman)。“我见过她几次，”格兰德告诉主持人吉米·法伦。“我们在白宫唱歌，她非常甜美，非常可爱。我当时想，‘你怎么能成为一个真正的人?’见到她是我的荣幸。富兰克林的家人被这位年轻表演者的话感动了，并邀请她参加星光熠熠的悼念活动。那天在底特律演唱的每首歌都是与已故灵魂女王风格相关的杰作。格兰德的选择与她在《今夜秀》(the Tonight Show)现场演唱的歌是一样的:《一个自然的女人》(a Natural Woman)，这首歌歌颂了性，歌颂了亲吻给需要的人提供方向和确定性的力量。她穿着一件黑色的无袖短裙和细高跟，她闭上眼睛，面对着大约四千名观众唱着歌，前后摇晃着。她脖子上戴着一条银色的小项链，奢华的、标志性的马尾辫在她身后晃来晃去，格兰德的声音比富兰克林的更高、更细，一群黑人福音歌手支撑着她。她是当天的第二位表演者，继费思·希尔之后。30分钟前，费思·希尔的劝导式演唱《耶稣是我们的朋友》(What a Friend We Have in Jesus)，让台上的贵宾们站了起来，观众们在走廊里齐声歌唱。与希尔举手，望向人群，在舞台上快速移动不同，格兰德当天的表演克制而忧郁，反映了她的年轻和这首歌的内省基调。当歌曲结束时，摄像机的现场视频切换到观众，黑人和白人，为格兰德欢呼。掌声很快平息下来，伴随着柔和的钢琴曲，主持仪式的查尔斯·h·埃利斯三世主教把格兰德拉到讲台前，讲台上写着“一位主，一个信仰，一个洗礼”。“我必须道歉，”埃利斯说，看着她的眼睛，引用了他的年龄和他的女儿觉得他“老了”和脱离现实。“当我在节目上看到爱莉安娜·格兰德的时候，”他继续说道——当这一切发生的时候，格兰德微笑着说，“你做了什么?”-“我以为这是塔可钟的新东西。”在那一刻，观众笑了，她也笑了。他的手紧紧地搂着她的腰，他的手指触摸着她右乳房的边缘，他的手紧紧地握着她。有几次，他的指尖似乎伸向了她的乳房，无视观众的存在和镜头的注视。他把她拉得更近，她靠向一边。尴尬的沉默了几秒钟。尽管如此，考虑到观众和镜头，他们还是哈哈大笑，然后埃利斯恳求观众……
{"title":"The Curious Case of Ariana Grande: Racial Passing in the Present","authors":"Matthew Pratt Guterl","doi":"10.1353/asa.2023.a910057","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/asa.2023.a910057","url":null,"abstract":"The Curious Case of Ariana Grande:Racial Passing in the Present Matthew Pratt Guterl (bio) In late August 2018, at a commemorative event at Detroit's Greater Grace Temple meant to mark aretha franklin's death, singer and pop chanteuse ariana grande performed a version of \"A Natural Woman.\" stevie wonder sang that same day. So did jennifer hudson, yolanda adams, faith hill, and chaka khan, along with many others. All of them stood on the raised dais of the church, facing out to the audience as they performed, their backs to the row of distinguished guests. Former President bill clinton was there, lightly slapping his thighs to the beat of the music. So were jesse jackson, al sharpton, and louis farrakhan. Franklin had passed away on August 16, following a long struggle with pancreatic cancer, and Grande had been invited by the event's planners after she shared a series of heartfelt tributes. In the midst of promoting her new album, Sweetener, which had been released the day after Franklin's death, Grande posted a grainy black and white snapshot of she and Franklin, accompanied by the outline of dozens of hearts, drained of their normal blood red color. The next day, appearing on The Tonight Show, she performed a stirring rendition of \"A Natural Woman.\" \"I met her a few times,\" Grande told host Jimmy Fallon. \"We sang at the White House, and she was so sweet and she was so cute. I was like, 'How are you a real person?' It's an honor to have met her.\"1 Franklin's family was moved by the young performer's words and invited her to join an already star-studded tribute. [End Page 279] Every song performed that day in Detroit was a masterpiece linked to the stylings of the departed Queen of Soul.2 Fittingly, Grande's choice was the same song she performed on the set of The Tonight Show: \"A Natural Woman,\" an ode to sex, to the power of a kiss to provide direction and certainty to someone who needed it. Wearing a sleeveless, short black dress with stiletto heels, she closed her eyes as she sang and rocked back and forth, facing an audience of roughly four thousand. A small silver choker on her neck, the luxurious, signature ponytail dangling behind her, Grande's voice—higher and thinner than Franklin's—was buttressed by a phalanx of Black gospel singers. She was the second performer that day, following Faith Hill, whose exhortative rendition of \"What a Friend We Have in Jesus\" only thirty minutes earlier had brought the distinguished guests on the podium to their feet and had the audience singing in the aisles. Unlike Hill, who raised her hands, looked out into the crowd, and moved rapidly around the stage, Grande delivered a restrained and somber performance that day, reflecting her youth and the song's introspective tone. As the song came to an end, the camera's live video feed cut to audience members, Black and white, cheering for Grande. The applause died down rapidly, and soft piano music could be heard, as Bishop Charles H. Ellis, III—the emcee for t","PeriodicalId":132671,"journal":{"name":"ASAP/Journal","volume":"108 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-05-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135563374","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
京公网安备 11010802042870号
京ICP备2023020795号-1
扫码关注我们
求助内容：
应助结果提醒方式：