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July 11, 2009

Interview with Mike Davis

From BLDGBLOG:

BLDGBLOG: I’m curious about the vocabulary that you use to describe this new “post-urban geography” of global slums: regional corridors, polycentric webs, diffuse urbanism, etc. I’m wondering if you’ve found any consistent forms or structures now arising, as cities turn away from centralized, geographically obvious locations, becoming fractal, slum-like sprawl.

Davis: First of all, the language with which we talk about metropolitan entities and larger-scale urban systems is already eclectic because urban geographers avidly debate these issues. I think there’s little consensus at all about the morphology of what lies beyond the classical city.

The most important debates really arose through discussions of urbanization in southern China, Indonesia, and southeast Asia – and that was about the nature of peri-urbanization on the dynamic periphery of large Third World cities.

BLDGBLOG: And "peri-urbanization" means what?

Davis: It’s where the city and the countryside interpenetrate. The question is: are you, in fact, looking at a snapshot of a very dynamic or perhaps chaotic process? Or will this kind of hybrid quality be preserved over any length of time? These are really open questions.

There are several different discussions here: one on larger-order urban systems – similar to the Atlantic seaboard or Tokyo-Yokohama, where metropolitan areas are linked in continuous physical systems. But then there’s this second debate about the spill-over into the countryside, this new peri-urban reality, where you have very complex mixtures of slums – of poverty – crossed with dumping grounds for people expelled from the center – refugees. Yet amidst all this you have small, middle class enclaves, often new and often gated. You find rural laborers trapped by urban sweatshops, at the same time that urban settlers commute to work in agricultural industries.

This, in a way, is the most interesting – and least-understood – dynamic of global urbanization. As I try to explain in Planet of Slums, peri-urbanism exists in a kind of epistemological fog because it’s not well-studied. The census data and social statistics are notoriously incomplete.

Our thinking chairs

FromThe Pinnochio Theory blog:

Arguments for panpsychism come in many forms, and its adherents often contradict one another. But if there is a central strain to contemporary panpsychist argumentation, it is this. If we reject radical mind/body dualism, and accept materialism, physicalism, or any other form of monism, then we must face the question of \emph{how to explain} the indubitable existence of mind or mentality. I am using “monism” here in its widest possible sense; I define it to include, not just scientific physicalism (the doctrine that the world is composed entirely of mass-energy, or that it is reducible to the subatomic particles described by contemporary physics), but also any form of what might be called “immanentism” (the doctrine that the world is composed of something like Spinoza’s unique substance, or of Bergson’s multiple durations, or of “experience” as it is understood in William James’ “radical empiricism”, or indeed as pure multiplicity, or as an open collection of independent objects a la Graham Harman). In other words, any philosophy that rejects supernaturalism or mind/body dualism as a way to explain the existence of mentality, must find some naturalistic, or at least immanent, way to do so.

I am trying to give as broad as possibile a definition of “mind” or “mentality” as well. This may be defined as consisting in cognition, and cognitive operations, of some sort; and, I would argue, in affectivity as well. But above all mentality consists in phenomenal experience, or of what analytic philosophers call “qualia”: my sensation of the redness or hardness of some particular object, or of pain or delight, or simply of being present in the world. Phenomenal experience is often conflated with consciousness, or the state of intentionality, being-aware-of; I have reservations about this identification, which I will get to later, but the rough equation may be accepted for the moment.

Understood in any of these ways, mentality would seem to be an irreducible aspect of our own existence, at the very least — leaving open the question of what other beings might have it. The question nagging at philosophers is how to explain the seeming indubitability, or incorrigibility of phenomenal experience. (”Incorrigibility” is what Descartes bases his entire philosophy upon. Everything that I think may be false or mistaken; but the fact that I am thinking cannot be mistaken). Cartesian dualism is the great classical solution to this dilemma, of course. Descartes has been (rightly) criticized for hundreds of years for reifying the act or fact of thinking into the the form of the “I” as a thing-that-thinks, and for separating the thinking-mind from any notions of body, matter, or extension. But this doesn’t negate the urgency of his initial observation.

Few of us are willing today to take Descartes’ dualist route, however. So the question becomes: how do we explain qualia, or phenomenal experience, or consciousness, or “inner” experience, on a materialist or monist basis? Modern thinkers have tended to favor either eliminativism or emergentism. Eliminativism is a reductionist thesis; it argues that qualia, consciousness, intentionality, and phenomenal experience are merely illusions, or linguistic misunderstandings, which disappear once we understand how neurological mechanisms operate on the physical level (one can find different versions of this position in Daniel Dennett, in Thomas Metzinger, and in the Churchlands). . . .

. . .Panpsychist thinkers propose, against the eliminativists, that mentality is real. Against the emergentists, they propose that mentality doesn’t just come into being out of nothing; it is always already there, no matter where you look. Mind, in some form or other, exists all the way down. Panpsychists argue that mentality, or experience, is itself a basic attribute of matter (of subatomic particles, of quanta of mass-energy, of actual occasions, of minimal differences, etc.). In other words, mentality is not separate from physicality, but coextensive with it. One might think of this, classicaly, in Spinozian terms (matter and mind are two attributes of the same unique substance) or in Leibnizian ones (every monad is at once material and mental, since it is both a particle of the world and a perspective upon the world). But Galen Strawson, David Skrbina, and others have reconceptualized these arguments in terms that are grounded in contemporary physics. As Strawson puts it, the “ultimates” out of which the universe is composed “are intrinsically experience-involving… All physical stuff is energy, in one form or another; and all energy, I trow, is an experience-involving phenomenon.”

This line of argument intersects in interesting ways with the arguments of the Speculative Realists. For it implies that mentality must be seen as intrinsic to the universe itself — rather than just being a feature of the way that “we” (human beings, rational minds, subjects) approach it. To restrict mentality just to human beings (and perhaps also to some other species of “higher” animals) is an unjustified prejudice, an instance of the “correlationism” denounced by Meillassoux, or the human-centeredness questioned by Harman. (This also accords with Whitehead’s frequent point that the duality of subject and object is a situational and always changing one. Every entity is a “subject” in some conditions or some relations, and an “object” in others).

What is wrong with this photograph?

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Edgar Martins

From Jörg Colberg's weblog:

Why these manipulations? And why done so badly? Why/how did they pass the editorial process at the Times magazine?

Of course, the fact that these photos were published in the Times magazine makes things particularly interesting. Martins is a fine-art photographer, but the photographs were clearly used in a documentary context. In such a context, such manipulations are not acceptable, especially given the Times' guidelines.

It seems that Martins also stated that "When I photograph I don't do any post production to the images, either in the darkroom or digitally, because it erodes the process. So I respect the essence of these spaces." in an interview found here. This is a most curious statement, since you rarely meet a photographer who does no "post production" whatsoever. None? No dodging or burning, nothing? How does that work? Are these photos Polaroids?

I reviewed Martins' Topologies book last year. I quite liked the book, and I still do. I never actually thought/believed that the photographs in the book were done using no post production - after all, post production is what photographers do; and in a fine-art context modifying your work (let me use the word "modify" to phrase it in a neutral way) is a very accepted practice. If one were to follow the Times' "ethics guidelines" large parts of fine-art photography would consist of what they call "photo-illustrations".

For many photographers, modifying their work is an essential part of the process (of course, it always has been, since even in the darkroom you can very generously modify your work, but that has been noted many times before). Of course, there are two types of modifications, namely the dodging and burning and cropping and changing the contrast etc. (this is one applies very easily to darkrooms and Photoshop); and then there's the copying and cloning and repeating - for the most part something the digital age has brought us (exceptions prove the rule). If one wants to talk about modifying/manipulating photography I think one would want to separate these two.


Milton Montenegro

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Afrocirco, 2006

July 10, 2009

deFocused

450x450_062403 from deFocused.net

Interview with Peter W. Singer

Peter W. Singer on Child Soldiers, Private Soldiers and Robot Soldiers:

In 1961, Eisenhower warned us for the pervasive influence of what he then famously dubbed the ‘military industrial complex’, referring to an essentially American dynamic. Is the private military industry essentially an American product?

This question is put from a very 20th-century mindset: we live in a global world, and industry is not structured along predominantly national lines. Executive Outcomes, a now defunct but heavily controversial company, came out of South Africa, so the industry does not only come out of the US or have a American only dynamic. Because of our size and military spending, the US is definitively an 800-pound gorilla in the market, but it is by no means a monopoly.


But interestingly, one can ask what Eisenhower would think about current developments. He only referred to defense manufacturing, and we have now moved into defense services as well. I think he would probably be rolling over in his grave if he saw that essentially military tasks have been handed over to civilians without any structures, regulation or planning in place.


In your latest book, Wired for War, you explain how technological change is transforming warfare, and how this ‘impersonal’ form of warfare is spreading throughout the world. How pervasive is this tendency? Is technological innovation the new ‘race to the bottom’ which will replace nuclear buildup as the primary source of competition and thus tension between conflicting actors?

I think one tendency which we are observing is the ‘open source phenomenon’. This tendency is not just limited to the software industry – we are increasingly using military technologies that are commercial and off the shelf, do it yourself. For example, the Raven drone is a drone US soldiers use in Iraq and Afghanistan; however, for about 1.000 US dollars you can build your own version of this drone.

Now whether you talk about this machine or some other low-cost weapon system like the AK47, the general tendency is towards flattening of the marketplace of war and the technologies used in it: not only because of low costs but also because of the (black) market as the prime forum of exchange of these items, the state no longer has exclusive access to the tools to effectively wage a war. In the past, due to the huge investments required to produce war machines, only strong states were able to show preponderance. During the 20th century, the industry changed dramatically, producing on the one hand highly capital and technology intensive systems like nuclear arms, but on the other very cheap and relatively simple weapons like the AK47 and some chemical weapons. If you wonder how so much civil conflict is possible, or why warlords and rogue states seem to proliferate, one question to ask would be: can it be that they endure simply because the weapons are so easy to make or to get by? Take a situation like that of the Lebanon war a few years ago, where Israel, the state with probably the most powerful army in the Middle East, is fighting a non-state actor, Hezbollah, a weird amalgam of a terrorist group, a political party and a social services organization with its own hospitals and schools. It may not be a state or formal military, but Hezbollah was able to fly four unmanned drones back and forth over Israel.

Another example would be a radical internet site that allowed you to detonate a roadside bomb in Iraq from your home computer in the US.


In order to understand what has happened, you can look at the software industry: it started with a couple of huge players, which increasingly faced competition from smart copycats and competitors improving on services or offering them for less. The landscape is flattening.

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Interview with Clayton Eshleman

From Jacket 36:

CE: I started doing Caterpillar Books after I moved to NYC in 1966 and discovered that I could cover more ground with a literary journal than with undistributable chapbooks. So, Caterpillar, initially subtitled “A Gathering of the Tribes” (which I soon dropped), began in the fall of 1967. I wanted to do a magazine based on Cid Corman’s origin, but one that was bigger and more burly, taking on more “fronts” than Cid had engaged. I sensed, correctly I still feel, that I was part of a new generation “coming on board” at the time, and there was no magazine around that was going to let us gather and do our thing in one (hopefully) noisy space.

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I stopped Caterpillar with its 20th issue, in the spring of 1973, then living in Los Angeles. Caryl and I were preparing to go to France for a year.

4

As for Sulfur: in 1981 I was a poet-in-residence at Cal Tech, in Pasadena, and once more, there was nothing around that was up to my vision of what I thought a literary journal could be. I recalled that Charles Olson had sold the idea of The Black Mountain Review to the administration at Black Mountain College as a promotional flag for the school, so I approached Roger Noll, an economist who was the Head of the Humanities Division at Cal Tech, and suggested that a literary journal would tell the world that Humanities were alive and well at Cal Tech. It was a little far-fetched (as was Olson’s proposal) but Roger liked the idea, and found money to start and underwrite Sulfur for five years.

5

In contrast to Caterpillar (20 issues in 6 years), Sulfur had a long life for a non-institutionally-based magazine — 46 issues, 19 years (I lost Cal Tech’s backing in Sulfur’s third year, something we can discuss if you like). Caryl and I moved to Ypsilanti, Michigan in 1986, when I became a Professor in the English Department at Eastern Michigan University. EMU gave us a little support, and we edited issues 17 through 46 there, coming out bi-annually most of the time. By the late 1990s, we had realized everything that Sulfur had set out to do, and we were ready to do other things. We had also lost our National Endowment for the Arts grants (of which we had 13), so that made doing the magazine more difficult, including no longer paying contributors. So we stopped it with a big double issue, #45/46, in 2000.

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July 08, 2009

Jiha Moon

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Auburn Hillock

July 07, 2009

David Schorr

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Chartreuse

July 06, 2009

Brandon Scott Gorrell

SEEING A WOMAN COUGH TODAY MADE ME SENSE A VAGUE FEAR OF DEATH

a vague despair feels horrible

as a result of the nature of despair

all day i imagined myself customizing my blog

an hour and a half after i arrived at my laptop i was staring vacantly, refreshing gmail

last night i went to your house

two of your friends were there

i asked them questions

i feel we all attempted witticisms

everybody was trying to be funny

every time someone wasn't funny everyone felt weird

and you felt weird, definitely

people were talking for a long time, resultingly

i had a vague sense of victory, i think

i am at the library

people make many facial movements when they look at inanimate objects

such as computer screens

i forgot how to create impressive poetry

i feel worried about writing often

i think about a fat girl sometimes

there is a high chance i can predict the next two weeks with extreme accuracy

and that it would be easy for you to say something to me

that would cause my facial expression to become complex

and my brain to think 'say something, you're losing so hard'

Skull protection

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from Fotki Yandex

July 05, 2009

Interview with Murakami

Interview with writer Murakami at Daily Yomiuri Online:

Q: In your speech at the award ceremony, in which you used the metaphor about "an egg and a wall," you stated that you write novels to "bring the dignity of the individual soul to the surface and shine a light upon it."

A: The role of writers, I believe, should be to create a story that can counter fundamentalism and certain kinds of mystique. A story stays forever--if it is good and finds a place in the hearts of the right people.

No matter how much my "egg and wall" metaphor was lauded, such a raw message will gradually lose its impact as it is passed around. But a story enters one's heart in its entirety. It can't bring about an immediate effect, but it can survive for a long time and it can even develop with the passage of time. A "story" needs to be powerful all the more at a time when the Net is being drowned in "opinions."

A thesis or a message attempts to put hard-to-express sentiments regarding one's soul into simple words so that they instantly touch someone's heart. Novelists, on the other hand, create a story through words that are as close to the core concept as possible and convey hard-to-express messages in great detail. I think that's the difference between them. Novelists derive immense pleasure when a reader discovers a truth wrapped up in the words of a novel. What counts isn't the number of copies a book sells but how the novelist's messages can reach the readers.


July 04, 2009

Celebration

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from Fotki Yandex

Ready for the 4th

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from fotki yandex

Willie Colon in DC on the 4th! Que rico, que bueno

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 Vallejo Nocturno 2009 - Willie C. in DC at the Reagan building!

Doubles

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from Fotki Yandex

July 03, 2009

In image

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from adski kafeteri Live Journal

July 02, 2009

After the storm

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Vallejo Nocturno 2009 - baby love by candlelight

Poly Ticks

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Vallejo nocturno 2009 - in the heart of the heart of the country

The Meaning of Occupation

From Helena Cobban's blog:

As we Americans withdraw our military occupation regime from Iraq, we must equally work to ensure that Israel, a state to which we have given-- and continue to give-- an extraordinary level of all kinds of support, likewise speedily ends the military occupation regime that it has maintained for 42 years over the residents of the non-Israeli territories of the West Bank, Gaza, and Golan; and that it withdraws its troops from those areas back inside its own borders.

The US has committed many bad--indeed, under international law, illegal-- acts during its six years of occupation so far in Iraq. These included the mass detentions and the major abuses in the detention facilities; the complete (and quite illegal) transformation of the political and economic order in the country; use of excessive force in numerous military engagements; and so on.

However, one violation of international law it did not commit was to seek to implant its own citizens as settlers inside Iraq.

During Israel's 42-year occupation of the West Bank and Gaza it has committed all or nearly all of the same abuses the US committed in Iraq. (Including, after the free and fair Palestinian election of January 2006, it decided to work to overthrow the results of that election; and outrageously, it received full backing from Washington in that endeavor.) But in addition to all those violations of international law, successive Israeli governments since 1967 have also worked systematically to implant large numbers of their own citizens into the occupied areas.

This has constituted a major and ongoing infraction of the natural rights of the Palestinians and the Golani Syrians to the free use of their own land's resources. It has also made the act of withdrawing from the occupied areas, as international law stipulates must happen, that much harder for any Israeli government to contemplate. But that is the fault of all those Israeli citizens who for 42 years now have participated in, profited from, supported, or condoned the settlers' project. Now, Israelis need to take the settlers back into their own country.


July 01, 2009

Ti Die

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Vallejo Nocturno 2009 - little face

Juan Carlos Onetti Centennial

From El Pais :

Buscara o no ser original, Juan Carlos Onetti escribió en 1950 La vida breve, según Vargas Llosa, la "primera novela moderna" en lengua española. "Me atrevo a decirlo", afirma, "porque en esa época había ya novelas importantes, pero él es el primero en aplicar la revolución formal de la narrativa". La que habían llevado a cabo Proust, Joyce, Kafka, Thomas Mann y Faulkner. Y no sólo en la estructura, también el lenguaje: "En nuestra lengua, tanto en España como en América Latina, había entonces una distancia radical entre aquello que se contaba y cómo se contaba. El lenguaje todavía era artificioso, rebuscado, literario en el peor sentido. Onetti fue uno de los primeros en crear un lenguaje que imita el del hombre de la calle".

Para Juan Carlos Onetti, descendiente de un gibraltareño llamado Pedro O'Nety que italianizó su apellido, sólo había una humillación mayor que morirse: ser elogiado después de muerto. Una ofensa sólo comparable a ser considerado escritor latinoamericano. "A él le irritaría que se lo llamaran", sostiene Vargas Llosa, "pero es muy latinoamericano, aunque de una manera muy indirecta y más bien simbólica. Su visión desesperanzada de la vida y del entorno político y social refleja bien la América Latina de las dictaduras, los problemas económicos, de las desigualdades".

En su famosa entrevista televisiva con Joaquín Soler Serrano, el propio Onetti dijo que, "como las mujeres honradas, los países felices no tienen historia". Fue en 1977 y la conversación se había abierto así: "En la relación amorosa siempre hay al menos uno que es sordo. A veces los dos".




Donald Sultan

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Donald Sultan - Mary Ryan Gallery

Brandon Scott Gorrell

Relationship Poem

on the couch i kept asking what was wrong

you said that nothing was wrong

then you said it had nothing to do with me

then we turned on american idol

and only talked about american idol

later we went to bed

and gmail chatted the next day

using 'ok' and 'i don't know' at a frequency that seemed higher than usual

i was on the 5th floor of the downtown public library

sitting next to an obese teenager

who was listening to death metal on her ipod

i minimized our gmail chat and looked at the escalators

mentally projecting myself minimizing our gmail chat and looking at the escalators

then the music on the obese teenager's ipod switched to r&b

it was interesting

There's an ant on your southeast leg

From Lera Boroditsky at the Edge:

Humans communicate with one another using a dazzling array of languages, each differing from the next in innumerable ways. Do the languages we speak shape the way we see the world, the way we think, and the way we live our lives? Do people who speak different languages think differently simply because they speak different languages? Does learning new languages change the way you think? Do polyglots think differently when speaking different languages?

These questions touch on nearly all of the major controversies in the study of mind. They have engaged scores of philosophers, anthropologists, linguists, and psychologists, and they have important implications for politics, law, and religion. Yet despite nearly constant attention and debate, very little empirical work was done on these questions until recently. For a long time, the idea that language might shape thought was considered at best untestable and more often simply wrong. Research in my labs at Stanford University and at MIT has helped reopen this question. We have collected data around the world: from China, Greece, Chile, Indonesia, Russia, and Aboriginal Australia. What we have learned is that people who speak different languages do indeed think differently and that even flukes of grammar can profoundly affect how we see the world. Language is a uniquely human gift, central to our experience of being human. Appreciating its role in constructing our mental lives brings us one step closer to understanding the very nature of humanity.

I often start my undergraduate lectures by asking students the following question: which cognitive faculty would you most hate to lose? Most of them pick the sense of sight; a few pick hearing. Once in a while, a wisecracking student might pick her sense of humor or her fashion sense. Almost never do any of them spontaneously say that the faculty they'd most hate to lose is language. Yet if you lose (or are born without) your sight or hearing, you can still have a wonderfully rich social existence. You can have friends, you can get an education, you can hold a job, you can start a family. But what would your life be like if you had never learned a language? Could you still have friends, get an education, hold a job, start a family? Language is so fundamental to our experience, so deeply a part of being human, that it's hard to imagine life without it. But are languages merely tools for expressing our thoughts, or do they actually shape our thoughts?

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Green hearts

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Vallejo Nocturno 2009 - in Columbus

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