Kocik in SF, Noel and Burger at Pilot in Seattle

Two great events below, both of which I'll miss due to being out of down. This is certainly turning into the week of kicking self for not being someplace where important things are happening.

Prior to the newsletter announcements below, a word on Kocik's Nonsite Collective talk/discussion. Which can also be said of what's occurring in Seattle's small poetry community lately, by the way. An urgency and vitality I really admire, much of it spurred by longer-time Seattle poets such as Robert Mittenthal and Nico Vassilakis, much of it picked up on and done with by a newer, hungry crowd of politically invested artists.

Anyway, regarding Robert's work. It was Kocik who, along with Amber DiPietra, Thom Donovan, and Eleni Stecopolous (among many other Nonsite participants), if I remember correctly, began focusing in on somatics a few years ago as part of a "disability" and poetics curriculum (series of events). It was this curriculum that got me deeply interested in the Nonsite Collective, and thus eventually involved. I felt that the questions being asked and the activities which resulted from the Collective (see the website for curriculum materials, essays, etc) were vital on myriad levels, but what I appreciated most was a radical sensibility that showed its vulnerabilities, that desired to critique its own positions while also focusing in on problems that I felt to be the most urgent and often least asked in regard to the relationships between art, sociality, and the political. "Cross disciplinary research" hopes to defend against specialist power brokering and stagnation. Each person involved, regardless of background, was and is committed to asking questions central to making aesthetic practice through cross-disciplinary research a practice, an ongoing field of honest discovery and mutual care-making, which, as Kocik notes in one of his talks up at Nonsite Collective's website, in a sense defines aesthetic practice as that which opposes various forms (systems) of oppression.

Post-ableist poetics and somatics were, and are, central to my work, first in performance and the physics of labor organizing years ago, and second, as this body developed a deadly degenerative disease--one that I still have trouble embracing, even dealing with, especially now as this mouth tries to speak fast for a performance of Maledetto and often can't make it--and has thus largely turned to more sustained acts of writing and stillness. Through all of that Robert's work has spoken to me: his commitment to social change (which involves interrogating what we mean by "social change") is very, very real. It demands of us a collective doing, an active collective inquiry. His multi-genre book Overcoming Fitness was one of the additives for the fuel that first got me writing Occultations--the first few strokes years ago--and attending to performance again, believing that there are more physical acts I could perform. Amber DiPietra and Petra Kuppers have also been vital in this regard, and by late 2007 I could say the same regarding Nonsite Collective, as a self-sustaining whole, as well as each of the participants, as they circled around what gets counted as "disability" and why. These honest conversations had me hooked, for lack of a better vocab.

So as the commons curriculum (last summer's curriculum) developed itself, what emerged again was an interest in a relationship between post-abelism (disability activisms and poetics) and somatic practices. Both Thom Donovan and myself honed in on this relationship in different ways for our talks/discussions. Robert also contributed an awesome essay on commoning ("Stanzas in Commoning") during this time, which also discussed somatics-commoning inseparability, sending it to Thom and I, among a few others, over email--available now by way of the Nonsite Collective front page--which I then gave "analysis" (response) to by way of a poem written (started) a week later during a hospital visit. I mention this because Robert stresses not just orienting around "sorely needed" and missing services, but poets giving up proprietary relationship to the body by way of, among other things, gaining extra-poetic, or even non-poetic knowledges, developing understanding of the terrain of other fields (such as that of the post-industrial medical complex, or property law, or domestic spycraft, etc), to anyway move from the myopia of institutional concerns--even writing per se--and towards developing critique of and participatory alternatives to the oppressive features/arguments of just such analytical systems (using what strengths we have, perhaps writing, perhaps not).

In hospital a week after Robert's call, it was more clear than ever how opaque our understanding of this vast complex really is. What small learned practices have I at my disposal to make visible and visceral this opacity? Language arts, obviously, but with that skilled labor also comes quite a bit of experience with research techniques, observational and otherwise--but most importantly, the time--here--to impassively witness. To turn site into nonsite. That and turning nonsite back into site is what Robert's work here helps clarify and expand. As often enough what gets counted as "expert analysis" or sorely needed specialty (cf medical discourses, the gaze, the creole of insurance "options") under neoliberal capitalism amounts to those in power stealing resources and excluding the vast majority of us from even understanding the terrain enough to form an immediate response (which is why "transparency" though important often means little), and there are ways both to expose and remediate some of this were poetry (and of course any other field) to move outside its own sphere of exchange. We need become better interlopers, better cross-disciplinary collaborators, in other words, into specialist worlds, to know these systems and their languages--these oppressive institutionality--in deep, not just gestural, ways. And conversely to use what strengths we do have, by way of what we practice with one another, to do so with, for, and as one another (as common body).

For my talk, and in previous email discussion with Robert, we were both excited by the potential for the body to be- or become commons. For the body (or "a body") to be the initial site of radicalization, giving over, laying bare to another or others for subsistence, mutual care. To deprivitize the body as moment one in an activist process. But how? Under what conditions? For whom? And in what ways that do not make for a Borg-like living room scene (pardon the Trek reference)? Regardless, to begin with a body, I think Robert, Thom, and I generally agreed (as have many others in Nonsite and elsewhere), is to acknowledge this as necessary condition for any enlarged aesthetic-political set of actions--for further commoning, for organizing, and so forth.

So Robert, now after several months of further thinking, making, and self-critiquing (I can only assume), comes back to the questions we were circling around during the summer curriculum and (I'm obviously excited to see) challenges us to do, to find some direct routes and go--to haul ass (OK, my words, not his). To use our disadvantages to our advantage (so to speak). Not that we weren't actively making or collectively doing over the summer and since, but I love the directly stated urgency of Robert's blurb-invite below. And no doubt there will be some much needed re-thinking and extending of prior suppositions, activities, statements, etc. Because Robert, I've come to understand, does not sit still--even a little. He doesn't languish with an idea. I so wish I could go to this. I'll be with my father and brother over the holiday, so if interested in attending, please contact Nonsite Collective. And look out for further info/talk excerpts/links etc on Nonsite's website (front page).

NONSITE || Robert Kocik's "Offering Up the Body As Food".

Please join us this Wednesday, December 22nd at 7pm for a conversation with visiting architect, artist, and poet Robert Kocik.

Robert writes of his thematic, "Offering Up the Body as Food," "I'd like to place together (as they are inseparable) two major Nonsite concerns: commoning and somatics. Perhaps the discursive is getting us down (it's so little of what we are and what language is). It's hard to get the commoning meetings to get us anywhere (just as when I work with the Phoneme Choir or teach saw-sharpening or voice, if I don't cut the talk and just 'do,' there is no transformation.) Spread-thin is the mode we're all in and need to use to our advantage. Let me introduce INSTEADS (instead of what we'd be doing otherwise, instead of our recognizable artworks, instead of the status quo and to some extent instead of homesteading (in that all the land is already owned) as clear (well, luminous) objectives to be carried out. Wholly speaking, somatics is tripartite: bodywork and then offering up the energized body as activism and I-lessness (the ultimate protest against privatization). Thus commoning, though seemingly an objectiveworld practice, comes from emptying and quickening of compassion within. What I see with I aside (what hurts most and offers the greatest alleviation): Planned Pauperization Of Almost Everybody (PPOAE) and the need to translate the green of the forest of the commons of old as today's money — like water or air, nobody should be able to own a billion parts to another's one. Taxation is an unsolvable distraction — preemptive maldistribution is the work of poets. Vowed to change, as it is from the power of vow that means arise."

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POETRY AT PILOT:

Sunday 19 Dec 7p at pilot books

219 Broadway E - Upstairs in the Alley Building
http://pilotbooksseattle.com/

Melanie Noel writes poems, often in correspondence with musicians, visual artists, and filmmakers and their work. She lives in Seattle. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UjDji5amSWQ

Mary Burger is a writer, visual artist, and landscape designer living in the Bay Area. Right now she’s wondering aboutRobert Smithson’s relationship to environmentalism.
http://www.maryburger.com/bio.htm
http://www.maryburger.com/selections.htm

++++++++++++++++++++

From an introduction at subtext in 2006:

Burger balances what might be an inherent need to make meaning with a “rigorous skepticism about a fixed privileged subjectivity” and acknowledgment that language controls us as much as or more than we control it. Meaning is thus “something negotiated between participants, not something absolute.”

…

In an interview (http://www.maryburger.com/burger-interview.pdf) she talks about wanting to resituate the confessional. Instead of relying on an extremely simplistic point of view, she wants to embrace the “complex, almost inconceivably polyvalent context in which any utterance exists.” To explore different registers of language and utterance – and experience.

Your Golden Gate

The obligation of the living? Verify, in solitude, the veracity of perception. Resolve the discontents of desire and repulsion. Find value, pleasure, and significance. Or anything at all.

I labored through undergraduate Heidegger, I romanticized high school Camus, and I believed in the achievements of the mind. Did I understand then that the obligation doesn’t end? Illusoriness of perception. Disorientation of desire. Disruption of time. Infinite potential, infinitely vulnerable. Each realization the seed of its own demise.

Wild Horses Of Fire: WHOF Five Years In

Wild Horses Of Fire: WHOF Five Years In: "Since October 28th of this month (tomorrow) is the fifth year anniversary of Wild Horses Of Fire, I thought I would mark the occasion by ref..."

Friend Thom Donovan's blog is turning five years old this week, ancient by online standards. He raises a slew of interesting questions about social networking tools and their potential, or lack of potential, to initiate and sustain radical social enclaves, relationships, collaborative friendships, communities. Since I started blogging for precisely the same reasons as Thom--the desire to connect with, or stay connected to, those friends and colleagues of mine that are now very far away since I moved to Washington State, I can really appreciate the stakes of Thom's post, one that doesn't ring to me as the oft-asked "is blogging dead?" Under Thom's excellent starter questions regarding how facebook has changed his writing habits at WHOF, tho, I take to be an interest, maybe not yet entirely worked out, in taking the blog format and doing something ELSE with it, something other than what WHOF has been doing, which, by the way, has been alerting us to deeply alluring critical-creative objects week after week. That is, I take Thom's blog to be one of the more consistently interesting blogs. Myself not in a big city, especially New York or the Bay, this chalkboard serves paltry fixings and makes for a rather skinny archive comparatively. 

Thom does ask why it is that those of us on facebook--admittedly I am--don't use this platform in more (I paraphrase) interesting ways, for more sustained and radical projects. For sure facebook has been used for flash prose writing, collaborative poetry, etc., but I take Thom to be asking about the potential of the platform as a whole virtual ecosystem. I myself am simply reluctant to do so. Even here I'm reluctant to do much more than point things out, offer brief summaries of things I'm working on for more (to me) interesting environments, or adverting my books or Wheelhouse projects--not a whole lot else. Facebook is even less giving as potential to be a "book book" (Donovan evoking Spicer), I think because it's an even more corporate/miltaristic landscape than blogger (its contracts viz. turning over evidentiary material to private corps for instance are larger).  Even so, that's not the only reason people shy away. I mean, there are several open-source platforms like blogger AND now like facebook that are not corporate, that do not come pre-packaged with the conservative donation schemes, etc. So I think, too, these platforms, oddly, since they are more interoperative, are less attractive as radical spaces, potential common areas. Greater interoperativity perhaps means less "control" of the shape of an archive. Or if not the shape, then the access to it. Maybe this is untrue, but if it isn't, what does it mean that the more interoperative the software or platform, the less likely artists are to use it for artistic purposes, eg? Under various names I've used porn sites as insurrection platforms, places where I can "inject" video poetry as upload into the environment, and tho I'm not claiming these pieces to be particularly fascinating artworks, I am drawn to the porn site, especially the amateur site, for reasons of non-interoperativity (low number of options of use, few options with regard to different ways to interface with other platforms). 

Anyway, I do hope blogging stays vital, given that many times in my classrooms I've used blogs such as WHOF as portholes and for use towards critical essaying, as ways to model different conventions given different constraints put on us by the environment and media themselves. But I also like that not a ton of people read my blog (or at least I'd imagine not a ton do), as I am writing to specific people, am writing half-cocked (this, a place where I can semi-publicly, semi-privately, try out questions to see if the "fit" or to share in something I think people I know more or less well would like). That is, I'm writing to people who I largely consider my friends, colleagues, and am, despite the distance and the indirectness, in a kind of conversation, trying out ideas before I enter into a sustained relationship with those ideas, asking friends or would-be friends what they think of x or y, or to take a look at a or b--because these, since 2007, are people I can't just call up and make a date to see. The 1 on 1 conversation, as I am always wont to say (in accordance with a kind of organizing ethos) is what I'll take nearly any day. Well, beyond admitting that this blog is, in part, born of loneliness, there are very good other reasons to play with this particular medium, to see what radical potentials it has, and I think WHOF and other places do this. Black Radish Books' blog is now, like other places before it, trying out ways to make the site a place of real-time gathering. So I admit there's that interest too for me, though perhaps not as strongly so as for Thom, whose constant push to radicalize environments in the service of friendship I really admire....

And so on that note, here's to the 5 years of WHOF! And here's to what's next for the blog. 

 

Rob Halpern's Review of Occultations / PhillySound Feature

I'm really so touched by CA Conrad's attention to Occultations, by how hard he worked in concert with Rob Halpern, Brenda Iijima, J. Townsend, Thom Donovan, and Jules Boykoff, to put together the interview, the featured poetry, and, of course, the community commentary. All the mini-reviews were touching, deeply so, each so insightful if a little too kind. I do want to draw your attention to Rob's review for a very specific reason: in the midst of a move (tenure track job!) to Michigan, Rob wrote a really in-depth piece, one that were he interested in credit, could have been published in a journal someplace, so thorough and investigatory it is. I want to thank him for this. He emailed me a pdf of it a couple days before it came out, and of course I didn't get back to him in any timely way whatsoever (my M.O for emailing). So I don't think Rob's piece gets the props it deserves for sheer amount of time he took to ponder the work, write it. Rob doesn't do things half-assed, which I admire. His compulsions end up making others happy.  I hope Conrad doesn't mind, but here's Rob's review, which were it a review in the sense of "hey read this great book," I wouldn't post here. But as per Rob's work overall, the review is rather an essay thinking through issues both of us, and I take many of you, are interested in. Many thanks to all for the feature! That I post Rob's writeup here is no reflection on how good/touching each of the pieces are. 


Link to the entire feature is on the right side of the blog here, under Book Info & Reviews. 

Re-Printed from PhillySound , Feature by CA Conrad

ROB HALPERN
Militant Bodies, Common Bodies : Some Notes on David Wolach's Poetry

It was David’s affect that attracted me first — open, vulnerable, patient, disarming — all the qualities a queer boy like myself longs for in other guys, whether there’s some amorous prospect to be realized or not. This was several years ago, but the impression remains fresh. David and I introduced ourselves to one another in a dining commons at Bard College. We both had summer gigs teaching in the Language and Thinking program, a scene of deep collaboration around poetry and pedagogy, which would become the setting for our new friendship.

There is a critical militancy that complements David’s affect — permeates it — augmenting, rather than contradicting, all his qualities that move me. Within a few minutes of our meeting, we got to talking about student activism at the Evergreen State College, where I had spent some time as an undergraduate, and where David currently teaches. We found common ground discussing campus politics — always a distorted mirror of larger social forces — and how our various political engagements, both there and elsewhere, changed our lives.

David’s militancy moves from the union to the classroom, from the clinic to the street, through institutional zones and practices where our collective well-being — the commons — is always being stimulated and suppressed, aroused and seized.

I don’t use the term “militant” casually or commonly, but I like the idea of linking it to the commons. Against the grain of dominant “common sense” — grotesque ideology — militating and communing are not at odds. The militant body may even be consonant with the common body, at home in it — the body as commons? Habeas corpus — to have the body — becomes our common ground, if only because of the hostile social processes that disable, subject, constrain, and debase all our bodies commonly. And yet the body also potentiates a resource in excess of anything we can currently name.

In his introduction to the recently translated Genocide in the Neighborhood, a work that emerged from Argentine activist groups responding to the situation of the disappeared, Brian Whitener notes “ ‘militant’ doesn’t mean military […] militant signifies a stronger commitment to politicized collectivity”, and this may get at the sum of David’s practices, pedagogically and poetically. Whether in a classroom or a waiting room, a poem or a chant, a community of friends or a union of laborers, David’s writing and person activate this commitment to collective engagement, while militating for an enlarged politics.

At a recent Nonsite Collective event where David facilitated a discussion on “The Commons and the Body”, I quickly cribbed a few notes to help me introduce his poetry to the group. I wrote: “In David’s writing, the body becomes an occlusion in common sense.” The phrase came unexpectedly. What was I getting at?: the body as resistant to any regime of knowledge — be it medical or military — that would make of it a ward.

The body manifests in David’s poems not as an object, but as a situation where too many social processes, institutions, and apparatuses converge — medical, military, labor, financial, environmental — in often hostile ways, despite whatever benign appearance. David’s body is a body in revolt from the object status to which these apparatuses subject it, and his poetry is nothing if not an agitator in the interest of this revolt.

This is “the body-as-a-hole” (Occultations 77). This is the body struggling to affect a radical displacement in orders of common sense that determine what can and can’t be seen and said. This is the body as supplement and void — in excess of what counts and thus not legitimately here — challenging everything that serves to enforce orders of state. This is the body as nonsite of the commons, the commons being what is not here, the only thing we can share in truth, a set of social relations we’ve failed to actualize, a blank of pure potential, where we’re always dying, and always becoming. This is the body as an assemblage of intensities linked to multiple scenes of power that contain all our utopian and dystopian possibilities: all the vicissitudes of care and harm. This is the body as the critical situation of our undoing: the body as a commons in the way failure is a possibility we don’t know what to do with.

Tortured body. War torn body. Environmentally ill body. Ecstatic body. Immolated body. “What work this dying is,” he writes. David’s poems consistently make the occulted links between various scenes of the body’s expropriation perceptible. And while the poems affirm not knowing what a body can do, they nonetheless register what the body can’t do insofar as its flows have been obstructed, expropriated, owned, and forced to persist in irresolvable conflict with militarized production, environmental degradation, and geopolitical debasement.

David’s writing portends the body as a kind of “dissipative structure” — (according to chaos theory, a form of organization that resists its own conditions of dissipating energy and eroding resource) — a body at once vulnerable and resistant to every form of social erosion, a vulnerability and a resistance commensurate with the struggle to organize under conditions where the commons and the body alike go on sliding entropically toward exhausted resource.

Organize what?: a community, a union, a classroom, a collective, a poem: “organization” being a dynamic movement between all these organs. Prosody as organized pulse.

In David’s poems, the body-in-pain — chronic pain, constant reminder of mortality — is lived like a third world niche market — frontier of development — where the only lexicons available for speaking or singing of first world illness collide with the perverse semantics of the so-called “developing world”: the body as casualty — what can’t develop any more — sung in “the language of paper / cheap and easy,” when all you can do from here is “hold yr breath & pray / for the lynched.”

Under these conditions of ongoing war and environmental disaster, what has been occulted — nonsite: withdrawn from view — is as much the war-torn body, or the flood victim body, or the fallen militant body, as the memoranda that make these bodies possible, all of which are inseparable from the sick body here,wherever we might call home. 

David’s writing proposes to resurrect the failed body as potential and resource. And in this sense, too, his work proposes a perverse model of our occluded commons — body-as-a-hole — the body that fails to count within dominant regimes of visibility. This is the body as “collateral damage”, and it shares what can’t be shared with the militant body fallen in the streets of Gaza, and with the transgendered body violated here on Mission Street.

Just as the commons may be thought of as a nonsite whose history is the story of its own expropriation, this body is a disappearing act: negative ontology of our only common resource. This is the commons as the blank in history — history of the future that haunts us now — and David’s poems propose “degraded lyric as convergence of [these] aporias / The strange tremor of unusual poverties / Of not knowing what will come of this” (Occultations 117). The militant body — the body as secret agent of our commons — hangs on that not, the withdrawn secret of a counter-capacity waiting to be activated, waiting to surge.

This may be our occultation: the militant body as site of common refusal, zone of uncharted futures. This is also the body whose patiency suspends all property relations, to one another and to our life processes — “giving oneself over as shared resource” “given over to community” (David’s notes) — rendering the corpus open, disarming, and vulnerable to forms of unanticipated care, while resisting any form of knowledge that would further subject it.

Here is the abundance of the patient body — “a capacity without limit” — whose unruly excess persists in revolt against a grammar of proper agents and objects, a system that disables, limits, constrains.

David’s writing is the militant affirmation of this patiency.