Killing God to Find Palestine ‘after the End of the World’ in Adania Shibli, Mahmoud Amer, and Maya Abu al-Hayyat

2021 ◽  
pp. 155-172
Author(s):  
Nora Parr

While imagery and ideas from the past remain significant across much of Palestinian cultural production, there is an increasing push against a quagmire of language, where meaning is stuck in a past paradigm. Focusing on the work of Adania Shibli, Maya Abu al-Hayyat, and Mahmoud Amer, this chapter looks at contemporary writers who use their art to forge new words—a new language, a new framework for language—that better responds to life as they live it. In the process, existing structures of representation are forcefully discarded, though not entirely left behind. The chapter contends that the stories demand repudiation; a reckoning with the fact that somewhere between the Oslo Accords and the new millennium Palestine’s symbolic order and its lived world ceased to cohere.

2021 ◽  
Author(s):  
◽  
Nicholas Wilkey

<p>In Haruki Murakami’s Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, reality and imagination are infused in an interplay of narratives. The story is about discovering the identity of Self, using a walled city as a metaphor for the subconscious. The novel weaves the stories of two characters, the external self and the internal self, each chapter flicking between the real and the dream, from conscious to unconscious. Murakami provides the reader with a contemplation on the nature of existence, being versus non-being. Dr William S Haney, Professor of Literary Theory and specialist on culture and consciousness, argues that the shadow in Murakami’s allegory is a representation of the mind. As the narrative unfolds, the shadow—stripped from its owner—slowly dies, causing loss of memory, emotion and desire. The relinquishing of one’s shadow in the allegory suggests a loss of the metaphysical aspect of Self. The Shadow is not merely seen as an immaterial entity; rather it is the sign of full corporeality. The Shadow grants meaning to existence, illuminating the reality that we cannot perceive the light without the darkness.  This thesis is born out of a concern for the dearth of meaning in architecture in an age of uncertainty. In the modern contemporary sphere, we have become obsessed with the image, with rationalistic tendencies; with evermore light and luminosity, architecture has primarily been caught up in trying to order and rationalise the world. In this condition of objectification and reduction, architecture risks falling into a trap of homogeneity, thereby limiting itself to an empty datum of quantification. Thus, the unhygienic, the disorder and the chaos, the darkness that grants life its pungency, have been ‘relegated to the shadows’. Roberto Casati, senior researcher and Professor of Philosophy at the Centre National de la Recherche Scientique and an authority on shadow perception, argues that shadows avoid direct reading: “[t]he interaction of the two unequal brothers has been described in different ways, from the notion that shadows are ‘holes in the light’ through to the opposite idea that they are ‘the remaining representatives on earth of the cosmic darkness, otherwise torn apart by light’”. Viewed in this sense, Shadows can be seen as both corporeal operation—bound to the physical cycles of earth, moon and sun—and metaphysical entity, alluding to the primordial darkness before the birth of light and matter.  The allegory of the Shadow in Hard-Boiled Wonderland can be seen as a rumination on the loss of the metaphysical aspect of Self in a contemporary cybernetic age. In Murakami’s novel, the shadow cannot enter the walled Town; it must be left behind in the Shadow Grounds, the threshold between inner and outer realms. The Gateway, as described in Murakami’s novel, becomes the provocateur for this thesis. Interpreting Murakami’s architectural and allegorical program of the Gateway and Shadow Grounds in relation to Penelope Haralambidou’s seminal article “The Allegorical Project: Architecture as Figurative Theory”, this design-led research investigation interrogates the use of the Allegorical Architectural Project as a critical method. Allegory provides a structure of thought whereby meaning is not grasped immediately, but rather through progressive discovery and continual interpretation of its ambiguous traits. Ambiguity in architecture has the ability to appear ever-changing, resist resolution and remain open to interpretation.  The methodology of the investigation explores the spatial realm of the shadow through the critical and creative process of drawing. The principal aim of this thesis is to journey into the darkness, to embrace the shadow of the unknown, searching for a space in-between—between light and shadow, architecture and art, reality and fiction, the constructed and the imagined. Using Haruki Murakami’s Hard Boiled Wonderland and The End of the World as a generator and provocateur, the research employs the notion of the shadow as both mythological entity and corporeal signifying process. Rather than seeking concrete conclusions, it posits a speculative allegorical architectural project that invites critical engagement and interpretation. It argues that architecture occupies the liminal position between darkness and light, the true place of human existence, and as such, the design of Shadow is essential to the meaningful design of architecture.  The thesis investigation asks: how can the speculative architectural drawing be used as a means of interrogating the realm, and enhancing our awareness of, the shadow in architecture?</p>


2021 ◽  
Vol 14 (2) ◽  
pp. 114-127
Author(s):  
Tiffany Rhoades Isselhardt

Where are the girls who made history? What evidence have they left behind? Are there places and spaces that bear witness to their memory? Girl Museum was founded in 2009 to address these questions, among many others. Established by art historian Ashley E. Remer, whose work revealed that most, if not all, museums never explicitly discuss or center girls and girlhood, Girl Museum was envisioned as a virtual space dedicated to researching, analyzing, and interpreting girl culture across time and space. Over its first ten years, we produced a wide range of art in historical and cultural exhibitions that explored conceptions of girlhood and the direct experiences of girls in the past and present. Led by an Advisory Board of scholars and entirely reliant on volunteers and donations, we grew from a small website into a complex virtual museum of exhibitions, projects, and programs that welcomes an average 50,000 visitors per year from around the world.


Author(s):  
Samuel Cohn

The author of this book asks us to prepare for the inevitable. Our society is going to die. What are you going to do about it? But the author also wants us to know that there's still reason for hope. In an immersive and mesmerizing discussion, this book considers what makes societies (throughout history) collapse. It points us to the historical examples of the Byzantine empire, the collapse of Somalia, the rise of Middle Eastern terrorism, the rise of drug cartels in Latin America, and the French Revolution, to explain how societal decline has common features and themes. While unveiling the past, the message to us about the present is searing. Through an assessment of past and current societies, the book offers us a new way of looking at societal growth and decline. With a broad panorama of bloody stories, unexpected historical riches, crime waves, corruption, and disasters, the reader is shown that although our society will, inevitably, die at some point, there's still a lot we can do to make it better and live a little longer. This inventive approach to an “end-of-the-world” scenario should be a warning. We're not there yet. The book concludes with a strategy of preserving and rebuilding so that we don't have to give a eulogy anytime soon.


Author(s):  
Kitty Hauser

Photography, as is well known, is the image-making technology which specializes in the freezing of time.1 What kind of historiography, then, might photography be said to embody? How can photography, with its ineluctable connection to the present moment, hope to say anything at all about the past—about either the broad processes of history or even the events of the hours and minutes immediately preceding the second in which the photograph is taken? What kinds of knowledge of the past does photography allow, and what does it disallow? How can photography, that most superficial of media, hope to become a vehicle for the archaeological imagination, with its love of immanent depths? If photographic technology is uniquely equipped to record (visually) the present moment, it is also characterized—famously—by its thorough and indiscriminate recording of surface detail. What it lacks in temporal depth it makes up for in this meticulous rendering of appearances; any surface marked by the effects of action or time can be faithfully recorded by this technology which itself produces the marked surfaces of photographic plate, film, or print. History and the passing of time is available to photography only in the form of its traces, the more-or-less legible marks and remnants it has left behind at any one moment in the world. And it is precisely photography’s own nature as a chemical trace (until digitization, at least) that enables it accurately to reproduce these marks and signs of history. As discussed in Chapter 1, since the nineteenth century (at least) historical sciences such as palaeontology, geology, and archaeology have based themselves upon the reading of such signs of the past in the present, and this broad epistemological model could be extended to include military reconnaissance, forensic science, and art connoisseurship. Photography, fixing these signs in an image, has had—unsurprisingly, perhaps—an important part to play in the historical development of these disciplines. Photography meets the archaeological imagination as soon as photographic images are scanned for historical information in these disciplines and practices. In a sense, however, photography cannot help but represent the world archaeologically, since it cannot help but record its objects and landscapes in a temporal context, the traces of the past scattered across their surfaces. Ruskin enthused over this quality of the new medium.


2020 ◽  
pp. 45-57
Author(s):  
Nicholas Mee

Astronomy was the first science. Even in the fourteenth century, astronomers could accurately predict the date and time of an eclipse that lay one hundred years in the future. But early astronomers also developed some strange ideas which still resound today. Astrologers of the past identified conjunctions of the planets, especially the outer planets Jupiter and Saturn, with disastrous events such as floods, schisms, and pestilence. These ideas were related to the notion that world history can be understood as a series of 1,000-year cycles. This idea dates back to ancient Persian and Babylonian astrologers, but it has been perpetuated within Zoroastrianism, Judaism, and Christianity and is known today as ‘millennialism’. It is quite remarkable that the sequence of conjunctions of Jupiter and Saturn was also the key that led Johannes Kepler to dedicate himself to astronomy and ultimately to transform astronomy into a modern science.


Arts ◽  
2020 ◽  
Vol 9 (2) ◽  
pp. 71
Author(s):  
Yael Munk

This article relates to the complex approach of Dina Zvi-Riklis’ film Three Mothers (2006) to immigration, an issue that is central to both the Jewish religion and Israeli identity. While for both, reaching the land of Israel means arriving in the promised land, they are quite dissimilar, in that one is a religious command, while the other is an ideological imperative. Both instruct the individual to opt for the obliteration of his past. However, this system does not apply to the protagonists of Three Mothers, a film which follows the extraordinary trajectory of triplet sisters, born to a rich Jewish family in Alexandria, who are forced to leave Egypt after King Farouk’s abdication and immigrate to Israel. This article will demonstrate that Three Mothers represents an outstanding achievement, because it dares to deal with its protagonists’ longing for the world left behind and the complexity of integrating the past into the present. Following Nicholas Bourriaud’s radicant theory, designating an organism that grows roots and adds new ones as it advances, this article will argue that, although the protagonists of Three Mothers never avow their longing for Egypt, the film’s narrative succeeds in revealing a subversive démarche, through which the sisters succeed in integrating Egypt into their present.


2020 ◽  
Vol 24 (2) ◽  
pp. 96-109
Author(s):  
Leniqueca A. Welcome

Looking ethnographically at the 2018 flooding of Greenvale Park, Trinidad, and in conversation with disasters and their aftershocks throughout the region, this essay explores the entanglements of crisis, loss, and liberation. Drawing on the grassroot responses to recent not-so-natural crisis events as evidence, it shows that repetitive states of coconstituted ecological and political-economic devastation create vivid spaces of loss that make clear to the affected that repeating states of dystopia cannot be ruptured by the reiteration of the past political visions of nation-states. Finally, the essay suggests that our apocalyptic present makes the case for an abolitionist praxis to intentionally end this world that singularly values Man2/homo oeconomicus to save ourselves as a species.


Author(s):  
Frank F. Schambach

I am pleased and very honored that you have invited me here today to tell you something about the past of the Caddo people as it is known to archaeologists. This is a subject that has been both my occupation and my major preoccupation for more than 25 years. The story that I and other archaeologists have been piecing together over many years is long, complex, and endlessly fascinating. It is a heritage that anyone could be proud of. Let me give you some of the highlights. The story began over 11,500 years ago--or about 9,500 B.C.--when the first people arrived in the historic Caddo territory of Northwest Louisiana, Southwest Arkansas, East Texas, and Southeast Oklahoma. There were not many of them, perhaps only a hundred or so in this whole area at first. And the world they lived in was very different from the world today. It was cold, about like northern Maine or northern Michigan today, with forests of spruce and birch, because the Ice Age was still going on. They were probably dressed like Eskimos in carefully sewn parkas, trousers, and boots. We know this because many of the stone tools they left behind are tools for preparing hides and for making the bone needles necessary to sew them into clothing. They probably lived in skin tepees like those of the historic Plains Indians, but smaller, because they did not have horses to carry their gear from place to place. They did have dogs and they probably trained them to work as pack animals.


Author(s):  
Irina Aristarkhova

1. Matrix = Womb. 2. The Matrix is everywhere, it’s all around us, here, even in this room. You can see it out your window, or on your television. You feel it when you go to work, or go to church or pay your taxes. It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth ... that you, like everyone else, was born into bondage ... kept inside a prison that you cannot smell, taste or touch. A prison for your mind. A Matrix. (Wachowski & Wachowski, 1999) 3. What is Matrix? Simply ... the “big Other,” the virtual symbolic order, the network that structures reality for us. (S. Zizek, 1999) What is Matrix? In the past years, the notion of the Matrix has become dominant in figurations of cyberspace. It seems as if it is the most desirable, the most contemporary and fitting equation; however, its gendered etymology is rarely obvious. On the opposite, the gender of the matrix as a notion and term has been systematically negated in such disciplines as mathematics, engineering, film studies or psychoanalysis. It is necessary thus to explore and critique the Matrix as a most “fitting” metaphor in/for cyberspace that has conceived it (cyberspace) as a free and seamless space very much like the maternal body (Aristarkhova, 2002). The challenge today, therefore, is to reintroduce the maternal as one of embodied encounters with difference, to recover the sexual difference and gender in the notion of matrix with reference to cyberspace and information technologies that support it.


Author(s):  
Suzanne Raitt

For Sinclair, the past was a wound. She feared being unable to escape it, and she feared in turn her own persistence in a form that she could not control. Mystic ecstasy – what she called the “new mysticism” – was a way of entering a timeless realm in which there was no longer any past to damage her. But she was also fascinated by what could never be left behind – hence her interest in heredity, the unconscious, and the supernatural. However, the immanence of the future can also emancipate us from the past, in Sinclair’s view, and this is the key to why mystical experience was so immensely appealing to her. Mystical experience could take the self out of the body and thus out of past traumas and into the future. False dying – like that which creates ghosts – traps the psyche in its own pain and forces it to re-experience the suffering of its life; real dying – mystical dying – involves forgetting the self and the world.


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