kagablog

As I walked out tonight in the mystic garden
The wounded flowers were dangling from the vine
I was passing by yon cool crystal fountain
Someone hit me from behind

Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’
Through this weary world of woe
Heart burnin’, still yearnin’
No one on earth would ever know

They say prayer has the power to heal
So pray for me mother
In the human heart an evil spirit can dwell
I am a-tryin’ to love my neighbor and do good unto others
But oh, mother, things ain’t going well

Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’
I’ll burn that bridge before you can cross
Heart burnin’, still yearnin’
There’ll be no mercy for you once you’ve lost

Now I’m all worn down by weeping
My eyes are filled with tears, my lips are dry
If I catch my opponents ever sleeping
I’ll just slaughter ‘em where they lie

Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’
Through the world mysterious and vague
Heart burnin’, still yearnin’
Walkin’ through the cities of the plague.

Well, the whole world is filled with speculation
The whole wide world which people say is round
They will tear your mind away from contemplation
They will jump on your misfortune when you’re down

Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’
Eatin’ hog eyed grease in a hog eyed town.
Heart burnin’, still yearnin’
Some day you’ll be glad to have me around.

They will crush you with wealth and power
Every waking moment you could crack
I’ll make the most of one last extra hour
I’ll revenge my father’s death then I’ll step back

Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’
Hand me down my walkin’ cane.
Heart burnin’, still yearnin’
Got to get you out of my miserable brain.

All my loyal and my much-loved companions
They approve of me and share my code
I practice a faith that’s been long abandoned
Ain’t no altars on this long and lonesome road

Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’
My mule is sick, my horse is blind.
Heart burnin’, still yearnin’
Thinkin’ ’bout that gal I left behind.

Well, it’s bright in the heavens and the wheels are flyin’
Fame and honor never seem to fade
The fire gone out but the light is never dyin’
Who says I can’t get heavenly aid?

Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’
Carryin’ a dead man’s shield
Heart burnin’, still yearnin’
Walkin’ with a toothache in my heel

The sufferin’ is unending
Every nook and cranny has its tears
I’m not playing, I’m not pretending
I’m not nursin’ any superfluous fears

Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’
Walkin’ ever since the other night.
Heart burnin’, still yearnin’
Walkin’ ’til I’m clean out of sight.

As I walked out in the mystic garden
On a hot summer day, a hot summer lawn
Excuse me, ma’am, I beg your pardon
There’s no one here, the gardener is gone

Ain’t talkin’, just walkin’
Up the road, around the bend.
Heart burnin’, still yearnin’
In the last outback at the world’s end.

Music and words by Bob Dylan
Copyright 2006 Special Rider Music

These two films by Aryan Kaganof were shown at the National Arts Festival 2005, at Grahamstown in South Africa. We loved them because they (especially the second) reflect the author’s themes of predilection since returning to the country a few years before making this diptych: the portrait of recent South African society from the angle of its culture, particularly its music (see “Sharp, Sharp” or “Bantu Continua Uhuru Nihilismus” from the same period). In the first short film, the society portrayed is today’s American society, but it could also be a metaphorical reference to that of the film-maker’s country. “In Brooklyn” opens with a scene of workmen unloading their tools – “Brooklyn” is written on the door of their van, but we are under the impression that this takes place in another country. In 1997, Kaganof made a clip for the song “Lift Your Hands Up” by Sybil Jefferies. Five years later he drew the portrait of Brooklyn through the microcosm of its Christian churches and those who come into contact with them. For 16 minutes the director presents us with a very convivial church service, its gospel songs interpreted by the same singer Sybil Jefferies. However, she is not singing live; the songs are pre-recorded. She performs successive free and improvised choreographies in front of various places of worship in the district. She is pregnant and this is almost certainly a reference to the new life in preparation through faith. For Kaganof, this faith is at the same time religious and artistic, and marked by signs of improvisation, and therefore a “happening”. During this service we see in parallel passers by, labourers at work, a grocer in his shop, a down-and-out going through the bins, and a tramp-writer sitting on the pavement as he writes. The camera observes all these people closely. This film is a “happening” which highlights the liberty of tone and the liberty of the filming, a principle dear to American alternative documentaries since the genre grew to maturity in the 50s with the works of Lionel Rogosin, Robert Frank and Shirley Clarke.

“Casbah and Back” is also the portrait of a poor district, this time in South Africa. The film takes place in a Johannesburg suburb, and not in an Arab country as the title might seem to suggest. “Casbah” means fortress, but this fortress is not enclosed. In the fourth minute of the film we see the lit-up sign of a drive-in restaurant with the same name. It’s an open space, rather than a closed one, and the sign lends its name to the title of the film. Around this drive-in restaurant we see the poverty of the people and the nation that has just been born. The fixed images of their smiling faces testifies to an interior desire to live in a decent human fashion. The tilted frames and retrograde movements of the passers by serves to underline a return to the title – it’s a return to the poverty of the area, which we see in the graffiti on the walls, showing Labor Party slogans, and the low prices on the menu of a market society, instable and mutating. The return to the area justifies the title “Casbah and Back”. The piano and saxophone music, once again improvised, adds an aesthetic character in common to these two films which could be seen as a diptych with a common theme – poverty.

dionysos andronis, January 28, 2007

translated from the french by lucy lyall grant

i’m inspired by the work of malevich and kandinsky.

these digital dreams are useless, throw away art. art for the 21st century. easily created, easily reproduced, easily destroyed, easily admired, easily dismissed. it has meaning purely because it exists. is it art? of course!anything can be art, as long as you say it is.

cheers. johann

The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed…

221

Emancipation from the material bases of inverted truth this is what the self-emancipation of our epoch consists of. This “historical mission of installing truth in the world” cannot be accomplished either by the isolated individual, or by the atomized crowd subjected to manipulation, but now as ever by the class which is able to effect the dissolution of all classes by bringing all power into the dealienating form of realized democracy, the Council, in which practical theory controls itself and sees its own action. This is possible only where individuals are “directly linked to universal history”; only where dialogue arms itself to make its own conditions victorious.

Chapter 10 “Colophon”
The Society of the Spectacle
Guy Debord

La Société du Spectacle was first published in 1967 by Editions Buchet-Chastel (Paris); it was reprinted in 1971 by Champ Libre (Paris).

The first English translation was published by Black & Red in 1970. It was revised in 1977, incorporating numerous improvements suggested by friends and critics of the first translation.

Guy Debord was editor of the journal Internationale Situationiste from 1958 to 1969. He died in 1994.

and
tomorrow came
to me
in a rush
and I passed
into dream

been thinking about the cho kid…and how uniquely american the campus killing is, and how he’s expressing exactly what so many yankees seem to feel – isolation, alienation, humiliation….

the obvious solution to these problems seems integration. you know, if he had some mates there on campus he wouldn’t have blown everyone away…and yet, the response from the american media has been exactly antithetical to this kind of solution…

first they have a neurologist pointing out that “his brain made him do it”…what the fuck does that mean? of course his mind/brain was in a similar state to other killers, since they were doing the same thing…but how did his brain/mind get to be that way?…how did it become constructed into that formation trough internal and external causes?

also, there are comments by fellow students who describe his face as “evil” and say that he was “wicked” and so on…which is now further going to stigmatise the next lonely kid…instead of saying, let’s try and help these poor suffering tormented fucked up kids, it’s now like – ooo, watch out, they’re time bomb’s ticking away and we have to catch them and lock them up before they go off…i mean, the way they’re now accusing the creative writing teacher and counsellors because “they should have read the signs”…i.e. they should have recognised the face of satan when they saw it…

everybody feels so sorry for the victims, but nobody seems to feel sorry for this kid, and if somebody had, it might not have happened and then they would have had nothing to feel sorry about…

i once watched a snake hiss and burn
to ashes on a well manicured lawn
on the otherside of the island.
my mother all the while screaming
“get thee satan
behind me”

A live cd recording of the performance on M.S.Stubnitz in Stockholm summer of 1998 is released as cdr by the labels Gold Soundz and Humbug

listen here

click here now

Conclusion

The above all said, hip hop’s transformative potential does not extend so far as to permanently overthrow the constraining structures of society, as it necessarily obtains its impetus for existence through opposition to these structures, and would destroy itself should it supercede them (cf. de Certeau, 1984). However, it does provide highly effective symbolic ways of apprehending the threats of change, uncertainty and inequality encountered by headz in the everyday world and bringing them under control. Hip hop has a stylistic ethos which emphasises the maintenance of a “flowing” sequence of events or narrative which incorporates layers of disjunctural elements. These elements serve to rupture the continuity, embellishing and highlighting it as they challenge it momentarily.

Tricia Rose remarks that these stylistic practices can be applied in dealing with concrete practical dilemmas encountered by hip hop headz outside hip hop by suggesting affirmative ways in which profound social dislocation and rupture can be managed and perhaps contested in the public arena. Let us imagine these hip hop principles as a blueprint for social resistance and affirmation: create sustaining narratives, accumulate them, layer, embellish and transform them. However, be also prepared for rupture, find pleasure in it, in fact plan on social rupture. When these ruptures occur, use them in creative ways that will prepare you for a future in which survival will demand a sudden shift in ground tactics (Rose, 1994a: 39). Hip hop’s performative nature gives headz from population cohorts with a history of marginalisation and disregard by dominant hierarchies of communication the capacity to build their self-esteem and status within a group, as well as in wider society. Its practices foster a sense of pride in representing who one is as an individual, as well as acknowledging one’s “roots”, one’s peers and background influences. It exhorts adherents to take up a set of conventional practices to identify themselves with the “hip hop community” at large, but allows and encourages remarkable freedom in personal expression within these genres. It instils a positive sense of the significant cultural contributions they are able to make to Cape Town and, indeed, the world; and dispels the sense of inferiority and resultant apathy instilled by so many years of cultural, spatial and physical domination.

Hip hop operates in ways akin to de Certeau’s (1984) description of a “tactic” rather than a “strategy”. Both “tactics” and “strategies”, as delineated by de Certeau, are techniques of resistance to constraining elements in the dominant social order. The distinction between the two lies in their relative capacity to challenge the existence of those structural constraints. “Strategies” allow participants to transform, even overcome, oppressive systemic restrictions; “tactics” enable them simply to cope with constraints day to day, but not to surmount the structure of the constraints. Headz emphasize that hip hop essentially exists “underground”, in opposition to hegemonic structures. To overcome the structures of domination it rails against, as a strategy could, would be to destroy a significant part of hip hop’s raison d’ etre. Connected questions thus surface around the movement’s ability to sustain itself in a modern global economy characterised by millennial capitalism (cf. Comaroff & Comaroff, 2000). At this juncture, the most troublesome issue to devoted hip hop headz is that, in certain ways, hip hop – more specifically its rap element – is seen to be “selling out” and “going mainstream”. By this they mean that, in general, rap music is becoming part of the global cultural hegemony.

Hamma describes true hip hop as a perpetual “underdog”, suggesting that should it ever come out “on top”, it would lose its power.

Rosemary: Do you think that hip hop’s always gonna stay sort of underground?

Hamma: It will always be second, like I tell everybody all the time. True hip hop will always be second best, no matter what you do to it, no matter what you get out of it. No matter how many Slim Shadies29 come out, it will always be second best.

R: Second best?

H: Ja, there’s always something, in each and every country there’s something else bigger than hip hop.

R: Do you think that’s a bad thing?

H: No, I like it like that. Being the underdog’s cool man.

R: If you weren’t second best, if you came out on top, what would you be? How would you deal with it?

H: Shit. Then… that’s basically when it gets all played-out man, like commerce- the industry will get hold of it, they’ll fuck it up; you’ll see all their stupid emcees in ads and making dumb movies… All that stupid shit will happen and it will become so watered down. So I like it if it’s second best so people must fight, like, to get to the top, man. But even if they get to the top they must just remember, like, where everything comes from man. You must never lose that drive, and that determination, like, to always be better than the next one… always take it to the next level…

Jennifer limps back to her hotel swimming pools. She calls in sick to work. The comforts of anonymity soothe the numbness inside. Her thoughts have petrified into fragile forms. Sometimes she would place too much pressure on one and a tiny section of her mind would crumble, tumbling backward into an abyss, like broken glass down a well. She turns slow somersaults in a universe of clean blue. Overexposures of white light dance across her legs and arms. Anita phones in tears and begs her to come over the following night. Jennifer replies monosyllabilically. Her apartment feels dark and empty to her. She finds herself driving to Anita on a sort of autopilot, as if there never was any other choice. They watch television on the couch and eat dark chocolate together. Anita falls asleep on her lap and some part of Jennifer forgives her without even thinking. And it is as though she has been placed under some enchantment, a spell which makes things foggy and forgettable. They didn’t talk at all about the Blue House, as she had expected them to. Instead Anita was sullen and morose the whole night, constantly offering her tea and staring heavily at the television. Jennifer awoke in her arms, staring at the doll-like sleeping face floating in the half-darkness before her. They were like refugees, she realized, constantly avoiding the subject of their war-torn country. A hard and utterly translucent substance had caked over reality, fixing Jennifer in its resin. She had become like the fly who lands on wet varnish, walks a step or two and then finds itself an inescapable part of its landscape. She sets there, in the plasticky wilderness, swimming length after length after length of cobalt coolness. She eats, walks and sleeps mechanically in this world. Once her nose didn’t bleed for a whole day and she found herself picking at her finger with a nail scissors. A vivid blush of relief occurred when she felt the beads of crimson break from her. She uses a razor the next day. Calm and tiny cuts. She is driving to the laundry when she sees X on the sidewalk. She almost crashes the car. The unexpected sight of him forces a crack in the shell which has formed around her. She slows and tails him like a heavy, morbid shark. He realizes that he is being shadowed after one or two meters and turns slowly in the sun. She pulls up beside him and rolls down her window, slouching heavily against the door. The sight of him makes her want to sleep. He tentatively approaches her. Her hair is wet and the area around her eyes is purplish. She seems older to him somehow. They stare at each other, lost in the bustle of offramps and power cables, dead neon signs and receding billboards. He climbs wordlessly into the car and they turn off into the mid-morning traffic.

I see everything
all the way down
from the time when the world is a
patchwork of fields and forests
stretching out past the horizon
to the time when the tops of the trees
stare into my face

I see it all
every pine needle every lost aphid
my senses are infinitesimal
in their precision
and all the beauty opens up for me
From the curve of the earth
to the immediacy of this situation

to the fact that it is all about to end

by Julia Mooi / Free State Eclectic Writers’ Club / 2001

My intention here is to write briefly about Free State black writers who have shown some literary creativity and to make more people aware of their books (some of them, anyway), which can be found in Free State libraries.

The first name that springs to mind is GILBERT MODISE. He has written and published at least six fiction books, all showing creativity. Five of his books were written in Setswana. Lesiela, Monono wa pelo, Thokolosi ya Mangaung, O itsiwe ke Maagwe and Maagwe o gwebo ka ene. His play “Our Land”, written in English had a mixed reception. Modise has a penchant for using too many big words, mixed with Latin and other strange expressions, and sadly the editing of the book “Our Land” leaves much to be desired.

FLAXMAN QOOPANE is an intriguing writer. As a journalist and photo-journalist he has few peers in the country, and as a storyteller for children too, he has distinguished himself. His published books include A poet abroad, Memories of a cultural activist, Adventures in journalism, and The vision of a poet. A poet abroad and Adventures in journalism make for interesting reading, and one wonders how a writer can be so frank about the events of his life. However, the main criticism of Flaxman Qoopane is that he seems to be fond of writing about himself. Surely a writer of his status should move ahead and produce things like literary essays or fiction.

When it comes to fiction (written in English) OMOSEYE BOLAJI is in a class of his own. His novel Impossible love continues to stun those who read it, and can be described as “a love story with quite a twist in the tail”. Bolaji’s novella, Tebogo investigates has also been hailed as a superb mystery/detective story of local colour. Recently, his latest novel, The Ghostly adversary was published, and it manages to be even more exciting and suspenseful than his earlier works. Another thing worthy of praise is BolajiÕs versatility. He wrote the biographical book, The story of Collins Mokhotho (a Free State traditional dancer) and a book on journalism, Fillets of Plaice.

Bolaji’s main weakness is a lack of motivation and encouragement that could make him into a real “great” in writing fiction, despite his achievements so far. It is common knowledge in Mangaung townships that Bolaji announced a “complete retirement from writing in 2001″. This announcement, it is gathered, was caused by an extraordinary run of bad luck in getting remuneration for his work, and alleged betrayal by close aides who profitted from his writing talents.

Another writer of great talent and potential is JOB T MZAMO, author of the superb anthology of poems Pride of my heart. Mzamo was a very late developer as a writer, but his literary skills are from the top drawer. After the successful publication of his first book Mzamo is now working on a book of literary essays Ð he has read hundreds of books written by Africans!

LEBOHANG THAISI, one of the youngest of the writers (and certainly the youngest to be published) has the potential to be as versatile as Bolaji. With his first book of poems, A voice from Mangaung, Thaisi showed a lot of talent. He has been writing fiction - short stories, and the longer variety, since he was a teenager. A book of some of his short stories is scheduled for publication. But alarmingly, it appears that despite his tender years, Thaisi is also becoming increasingly disillusioned with the lack of material writing success. And unlike Bolaji - who still manages to be active in the literary field despite disenchantment - Thaisi seems to be turning his back on creative writing.

PULE LEBUSO wrote African Renaissance, a small but thought- provoking book. Some find it disturbing - women, certainly, will not be happy with his comments on females in this book. It is however a useful addition to black literature in the Free State and is informative. Lebuso argues that Africans should not turn their backs on their African origins and is clearly angry about the “surplus rights” of women nowadays. This controversial book is a good read.

TSHIDISO RAMATSIE, now working on a Setswana novel, is another interesting author. He has done very well as a journalist in the electronic media (radio) and for newspapers like Die Volksblad and Sunday World (Johannesburg). His strength lies in realising the importance of very hard work and research. This amiable young man shows a lot of promise and we could expect a significant contribution from him in the future, as he is very much into literary matters.

Multi-talented FRANCE NTHEJANE, bravely started a township newspaper, Mangaung Mouthpiece, against unbelievable odds. Then he masterminded a pecial tribute to a distinguished Free State journalist, Mphikeleni Duma. The book, entitled The Tempe man, was added to the stock of the Free State Library, Information and Technology Services Directorate, as were books by Qoopane, Bolaji and Thaisi.

by peter moroe

Many times, we grow to like a particular book mainly because of its title. I know many people who love reading but despite not liking the contents of a particular book, will hold onto it forever because they love the particular title of the book. To be honest, I am largely like that too, especially after getting into the habit of reading.

I love reading African books and i used to read lots of the Pacesetter series, and African Writers series. I appreciate our (African) books and those with gripping titles, in particular. Our continent’s early great works of fiction like Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, known all over the world. But here my mind is focused on the memorable titles of African books.

By a strange irony of fate, the two titles that i like most (part of my all-time 5) I learnt about only over the last year. The first, and the one I like most is Zakes Mda’s The Madonna of Excelsior. I am crazy over this title; the second title is a Free State book, The Quack of Qwa Qwa. This is a title that embodies rhyme, alliteration, ‘consonance’. It appeals very much to the ear - think about it.

There are other titles that I like very much, and they include renowned African books. Like Camara Laye’s The Radiance of the King, Wole Soyinka’s Season of Anomy (whatever this means), Ngugi wa Thiongo’s Petals of Blood (an imaginative title) and Devil on the Cross. Achebe’s Arrow of God is a fine title too.

And in the Free State here, we have some very fine titles for books too. Omoseye Bolaji has produced some good fiction and at least two of his books have intriguing titles: The Ghostly Adversary and Tebogo’s Spot of Bother. And what about Pule Lebuso’s book, African renaissance anti-clockwise? Who would not want to read a book with such a title?

In the end, my final top list of the most intriguing titles for black African books I know is set out below. Cynical readers might wonder why in my all-time list, three or four books based on the Free State are included; but I believe I am sincere and unbiased. Check out my list for yourself.

my all-time five favourite titles

1. The Madonna of Excelsior by Zakes Mda
2. The quack of Qwa Qwa (short stories) edited by Omoseye Bolaji

3. Devil on the Cross by Ngugi wa Thiongo
4. The Ghostly Adversary by Omoseye Bolaji
5. African Renaissance anti-clockwise by Pule Lebuso

by Steven HellerJanuary 17, 2006

The Joseph Goebbels(TM) project, the brainchild of Aleksandar Macasev, is a multimedia attack on the information and disinformation glut that uses the infamous Nazi minister of propaganda and enlightenment as its poster child. Dredging up the Nazi past is always charged, but plastering Belgrade’s streets with posters featuring Goebbels is asking for trouble. Here Macasev (who was graduated from the faculty of architecture, University of Belgrade, in 1998 and now teaches interactive design at the BK Academy of Arts in Belgrade) addresses the issues raised and the responses received. More information on Macasev’s work can be found on Black Pixel.

This project was part of BELEF 05 (Belgrade Summer Festival), visual arts selection (curated by Anica Tucakov).

Why did you launch the Joseph Goebbels(TM) project?

I had been thinking a lot about the nature of mass communication and contemporary media culture because I had been working for a number of advertising agencies. The conclusion I reached (and it may seem obvious to some) was that the truth has become totally irrelevant in the present state of mass-media culture. The first obvious thing that came to my mind was propaganda. And when you say the word “propaganda,” it is highly possible that the image of Joseph Goebbels will pop into your mind. I like to use icons, so I decided to try and use the icon of propaganda—Goebbels—to say something about media. First I made a small web art piece called, “Unstable Portrait of Joseph Goebbels”, which was exhibited at the WebArt festival in Podgorica, Montenegro. That piece drew some attention and it was included in a selection of artwork for Hz magazine, so I figured I could pursue the idea further, this time in the form of an advertising campaign–the very means that I am talking about.

Goebbels may not be known to many in the current generation. Why didn’t you base your iconic image on Hitler himself?

I think that Goebbels is becoming more known to the current generation because of the 60th anniversary of the fall of fascism and the movie Downfall. That movie is very important for my concept because all the famous fascist villains were represented as human beings.

Why not Hitler? Hitler’s iconic image will always be remembered as an ultimate 20th century villain. No more, no less. Joseph Goebbels was the media mastermind, not Hitler. On the other hand, I was fascinated by Goebbels: an ultimate opportunist. He was a left-wing (almost Communist) activist at the beginning. Realizing that he didn’t need a weathervane to tell which way the wind was blowing, he switched to a much more plausible option: the fascist one. And he was a totally non-Aryan type: crippled, refused from the army service, black-haired and brown-eyed. But he had a hypnotizing voice of a messiah–spooky, but fascinating. You can easily recognize the type in many of today’s politicians and media personas.

By elevating Goebbels as an icon of information and disinformation, might you be creating a hero rather than a villain?

I am not trying to achieve either of the above, but part of the point is that I can create a heroic icon out of a villain, by using the power of an iconic advertising image. You place a convincing huge outdoor image in front of the masses, presented in the form of a positive campaign, and people are likely to perceive the image as heroic. But I think the majority of the people who saw the campaign still perceived him as a villain. My attitude in the whole project was to avoid dichotomies: villain-hero, truth-lie, good-bad ? I am just offering imagery and a broad statement. Joseph Goebbels is much more about the Joseph-Goebbels state of media culture and not about the man himself.

This is where I get concerned about unintended consequences. Advertising plays on ambiguities and the public’s lack of long-term memory. When you say you are able to make a hero out of a villain—even to show it can be done—doesn’t that mean that some people will succumb to the myth? Isn’t this a little like creating Frankenstein’s monster?

Well, all this seems like playing with fire, and I was very aware of all that when I started it. I will say it again: it is not about the particular man; it is about media culture. He is just an iconic carrier of the idea. People are very often fascinated by Nazi iconography, but they are ashamed to admit that. Talking about monsters: Joseph Goebbels was a monster, according to the historical documents. Are we capable to look in the face of the monster and recognize ourselves and the society we live in?

Do you really believe that the way propaganda was practiced under Goebbels is the same as what is practiced today in politics, government and commerce?

I don’t personally know what kind of propaganda was practiced during Goebbels’ era, I can only read documents and see images (“history” is just a bunch of documents and vague personal memories that I don’t want to accept as the ultimate truth). But based on my reading and my experience with the present media culture, I believe propaganda is more or less the same now, as it was then.

The famous Goebbels’ quote, “A lie repeated a thousand times becomes a truth,” can be applied to any contemporary mass-media activity. Let’s say that you, many times, see a soap advertisement that will make your skin look younger, and it is made of purely natural ingredients. After a while, you may want to buy it and try it. You will not be upset if your skin doesn’t get younger and if you discovered that the soap is made of synthetic chemicals. You bought the idea and that’s enough. The actual truth/lie has nothing to do with it. To paraphrase Goebbels, “A message repeated a thousand times becomes the truth.” Which means that everything and nothing is truth. Ergo–there is no truth.

Be honest, can this kind of art/design project truly have an impact on people? Isn’t commercial branding such an integrated part of life that any attempt to critique it in this way is futile?

Contemporary art in general has very little impact on the broader audience. Mass-media and graphic communication, however, have a greater impact, and that’s why I try to use it in art. I think the greatest and broadest impact has the political activity in epic tones broadcasted to the millions. A series of performances by Marina Abramovic will move a lot of art lovers, critics and theoreticians. The latest Diesel campaign, however, will move a horde of fashion victims, trendy teenagers and some common people. The speech of George W. Bush about ultimate evil coming from the east will move half a world (ok, a third of the world). My intention with Joseph Goebbels was activist in nature, but basically it was artistic.

What are you hoping to accomplish? Are you saying that people must be aware that they are being lied to, or is there a deeper message?

The power of the media is such that people often believe what they are told. That’s the power of media. You cannot see with your own eyes or experience personally every single detail about some news that you have heard or seen. In theory, you can choose to believe in it or not by using your common sense. My message is that there is no truth or lie. Everything is just a story or a message and you can choose to believe in it or accept it. Healthy skepticism for a healthier life.

I remember my professor of geometry who once said: “Don’t believe everything I tell you. You have to try it yourself.” I was shocked: “But, geometry is a very exact and unquestionable discipline,” I said. “Exactly. Especially because of that.” So I can say to all of you now: “Don’t believe me: See for yourself.”
To paraphrase Goebbels, “A message repeated a thousand times becomes the truth.” Which means that everything and nothing is truth. Ergo–there is no truth.
Okay, I understand where you’re going, but I still wonder what your moral responsibility is. Is it to make people aware they are being duped and that all hope for truth is lost? Is it to stimulate people to be more proactive in what they accept as truth and to fight for greater truth? Or are you simply being kind of nihilistic in saying here it is, do what you will?

The bottom line of the Joseph Goebbels project is: Joseph Goebbels’ methods of propaganda were very efficient and are the most remembered. There is always a moral responsibility in communicating messages to the broader audience. I have taken a relatively morally indifferent position, if such a thing is possible at all. Indifferent in terms of not accepting black/white view of the world. I have offered imagery and challenged the audience’s moral and common sense. The imagery is a portrait of Joseph Goebbels made of randomly chosen media company logos, logo of the campaign that is four loudspeakers that resembles Nazi iconography and the title which is Joseph Goebbels, a sort of a trademark. I will quote disclaimer from the Joseph Goebbels website: “Joseph Goebbels deals with nature of media and mass communication and it doesn’t intend to propagate principles of Nazism or any similar ideology. If you get a different impression after visiting this web page, that’s your problem.” Responsibility of the consumer.

Before the campaign started, we wrote a letter to the Jewish community in Serbia stating that this is a work of art and it has nothing to do with promoting Nazi values. The answer was: “We are not for it and we are not against it.” Good enough.

Now that the Soviet bloc has turned capitalist, what has changed in terms of the propaganda?

Let us clear something up first: we talk much about propaganda, but it is actually about media culture. Propaganda has always very negative connotations, while media culture has not. Media culture uses almost all the principles of propaganda.

It is interesting that you ask me about Soviet bloc, the ultimate nemesis of the American democratic system. As I see it, capitalism and communism are forms of economic system. But capitalism is more “economical” phenomena (a natural one I may add) while communism is more political and ideological. This is very roughly considered because borders between politics, ideology and economy are more than blurred.

Russian switch from socialism to capitalism changed nothing in terms how media culture functions. Only imagery is not so “totalitarian” any more. But let’s go back to America for a moment. When you have lost your “ultimate nemesis” you had to invent a new one: evil coming from the Middle East. I find Michael Moore’s point very interesting: American government is controlling masses by distribution of fear. If I would be a paranoid conspiracy theorist I would say that Michael Moore is an invention of United States government. The best way to control things is to invent them.

I grew up in former Yugoslavia, the only non-aligned country in Europe respected and accepted both by the east and the west. Maybe that’s why I like to take a cozy position of not accepting any of the poles in good-evil or truth-lie dichotomies. During the ‘90s, we faced some sort of totalitarian parody and its very obvious media manipulation. Unfortunately with very bloody consequences.

What has been the response to the project? And has it surprised you in any way?

Oh, there are a whole variety of responses to this. Since Joseph Goebbels was a media campaign, I appeared on a lot of television and radio interviews. The Serbian media did not know how much to praise the work or how harsh to be. The funniest thing was the random old lady asked for the opinion for national television. She said in a low voice “Isn’t that a German? Why didn’t they put up some of our people?” She probably thought of some “lost” war criminals that the Hague Tribunal is trying to catch. Art critics had the most boring response. There is a discussion on a Serbian designer’s online forum about this being totally confusing and stupid. “Why did he use Vodafone and Microsoft?” I was always more interested in opinion of the journalists of some non-cultural pages and of common people.

I was walking the streets with a friend taking photos of the posters and billboards around the town. There was one guy, probably my age, commonly dressed, completely average looking. He was peeling the posters off the wall. I was taking photographs of him and he didn’t react to it. My friend asked, “So, how do you like it?” He said in a completely indifferent voice, “For god’s sake this is Joseph Goebbels and my family name is Ishmael.” I was stunned. That was actually my first real experience with the ultimate villain-victim relation as is Nazi-Jewish. Like a Stockholm syndrome. I thought that we (note that I say “we” although I am not Jewish) have a capacity after 60 years to maybe try to look at the historical narratives from other perspective. Maybe I was wrong.

I had an interview in a chief police station because of a pile of complaints from disturbed citizens. The inspector (a woman) was very polite. At the end of interview, they all became my fans. I told my American friend I was called into the police station, and he was shocked because he thought you can never be investigated by the police because of your art in democratic countries. I just wonder what would have happened if I had put the Joseph Goebbels image in Times Square?

Reactions from abroad were much more affirmative. I’ve received a lot of fan mail from the United States. Some people in the Netherlands were intrigued by Joseph Goebbels, but when I met them they were not quite sure if I could create a public campaign in the Netherlands the way I did in Serbia. A Slovenian journalist used the news about my artwork to point out the radical media restrictions of the new Slovenian government. Israeli designer Dan Reisinger, my idol as a teenager, was fascinated and he took some of the posters with him to Israel. That meant a lot to me. Recently the artwork was printed in Print magazine. It was on the cover of the article “Belgrade confidential” about Serbian design.

The valuable part of the whole project is actually the reaction. And to see the difference between my intention and what really happened. The whole media clipping will be published on www.goebbels.info in February or March 2006.

this interview first appeared on aiga journal of design

most films only merit being cut up to compose other works.

guy debord
Methods of Détournement

most
films
only
merit
being
cut
up
to
compose
other
works

Voice 3: There are now people who flatter themselves that they are

(The screen remains white)

authors of films, as others were authors of novels. They are even
more backward than the novelists because they are ignorant of the
decomposition and exhaustion of individual expression in our time,
ignorant of the end of the arts of passivity. They are praised for
their sincerity since they dramatize, with more personal depth, the
conventions of which their life consists. There is talk of the
liberation of the cinema. But what does it matter to us if one more
art is liberated through which Pierre or Jacques or Francois can
joyously express their slave sentiments? The only interesting
venture is the liberation of everyday life, not only in the
perspective of history but for us and right away. This entails the
withering away of alienated forms of communication. The cinema too
has to be destroyed.

EXCERPTS FROM a Screenplay by Guy-Ernest Debord

1959 DANSK-FRANSK EXPERIMENTALFILMSKOMPAGNI

Voice 2: “Our life is a journey — In the winter and the night — We
seek our passage…”

…

Voice 2: One never really contests an organization of existence

(The screen remains white)

without contesting all of that organization’s forms of language.

Voice 1: When freedom is practiced in a closed circle, it fades into

(Tracking shots in a cafe, the camera’s movement arbitrarily cut by
boards: “The passions and celebrations of a violent age”; “In the
course of movement and accordingly on the transitory side”; “The
most exciting suspense!”)

a dream, becomes a mere representation of itself. The ambiance of
play is by nature unstable. At any moment “ordinary life” can
prevail once again. The geographical limitation of play is even greater
than its temporal limitation. Any game takes place within the

(Board: “With marvellous decor specially made for the purpose!”)

more striking contours of its spatial domain. Around the
neighborhood, around its fleeting and threatened immobility,

(People pass along the Boulevard Saint-Michel in foggy weather)

stretched a half-known city where people met only by chance losing

(A couple at a table in a cafe)

their way forever. The girls there, because they were legally under
the control of their families until the age of eighteen, were often

(In Japan several hundred police come into view running)

recaptured by the defenders of that detestable institution. They

(The outside walls of the Chevilly-Laure prison)

were generally confined under the guard of those creature who among
the bad products of a bad society are the most ugly and repugnant:
nuns.

What usually makes documentaries so easy to understand is the

(The screen remains white)

arbitrary limitation of their subject matter. They describe the
atomization of social functions and the isolation of their products.
One can in contrast envisage the entire complexity of a moment which
is not resolved into a work, a moment whose movement indissolubly
contains facts and values whose meaning does not yet appear. The
subject matter of the documentary would then be this confused
totality.

Voice 2: The epoch had arrived at the level of knowledge and

(Violent confrontations between Japanese workers and the police.
General view of events. The police gain ground.)

technical means that made possible, and increasingly necessary a
DIRECT construction of all aspects of liberated, affective and
practical existence. The appearance of these superior means of
action, still unused because of the delays in the project of
liquidating the commodity economy, had already condemned aesthetic
activity, whose ambitions and powers were both outdated. The decay
of art and of all values of former mores had formed our sociological
background. The ruling classes monopoly over the instruments we had

(The screen remains white)

to control in order to realize the collective art of our time had
excluded us from a cultural production officially devoted to
illustrating and repeating the past. An art film on this generation
can only be a film on its absence of real works.

Everyone unthinkingly followed the paths learned once and for all,

(People pass by in front of the railings of the Cluny Museum)

To their works and their homes, To their predictable future. For
them duty had already become a habit, and habit a duty. They did not
see the deficiency of their city. They thought the deficiency of
their life was natural. We wanted to break out of this conditioning,

(Windows lit up at night in the Rue des Ecoles and the Rue Monagne-
Sainte-Genevieve) HANDEL: FORMAL LOVE THEME

in quest of another use of the urban landscape, in quest of new
passions. The atmosphere of a few places gave us intimations of the
future powers of an architecture it would be necessary to create to
be the support and framework for less mediocre games. We could

THE MUSIC ENDS

expect nothing of anything we ourselves had not altered. The urban

(Some houses in Paris)

environment proclaimed the orders and tastes of the ruling society
just as violently as the newspapers. It is man who makes the unity
of the world, but man has extended himself everywhere. Men can see
nothing around them that is not in their own image; Everything
speaks to them of themselves. Their very landscape is alive. There
were obstacles everywhere. There was a coherence in the obstacles

(English police on foot and horseback drive back demonstrators)

of all types. They maintained the coherent reign of poverty.

(The screen remains white)

Everything being connected, it was necessary to CHANGE EVERYTHING by
a unitary struggle, or nothing. It was necessary to link up with the
masses, but we were surrounded by sleep.

…

Voice 2: Of course one might make a film of it. But even if such a

(A film crew around a camera)

film succeeds in being as fundamentally incoherent and unsatisfying

(The tracking shot across the cafe, as seen before, but uncut and
with a series of faults: people getting into the edge of the frame,
reflections in the lens, camera shadow, with a panorama drawn at the
end of the shot)

as the reality it deals with, it will never be more than a
re-creation — poor and false like this botched tracking shot.

Voice 3: There are now people who flatter themselves that they are

(The screen remains white)

authors of films, as others were authors of novels. They are even
more backward than the novelists because they are ignorant of the
decomposition and exhaustion of individual expression in our time,
ignorant of the end of the arts of passivity. They are praised for
their sincerity since they dramatize, with more personal depth, the
conventions of which their life consists. There is talk of the
liberation of the cinema. But what does it matter to us if one more
art is liberated through which Pierre or Jacques or Francois can
joyously express their slave sentiments? The only interesting
venture is the liberation of everyday life, not only in the
perspective of history but for us and right away. This entails the
withering away of alienated forms of communication. The cinema too
has to be destroyed.

Voice 2: In the final analysis, stars are created by the need we

(A car stops. Tracking shot of the star of Monosavon coming
downstairs)

have for them, and not by talent or absence of talent or even by

(Two images of the film’s clapboard recorded for two shots already
seen)

the film industry or advertising. Miserable need, dismal, anonymous
life that would like to expand itself to the dimensions of cinema

(Horse riders in the Bois de Boulogne)

life. The imaginary life on the screen is the product of this real
need. The star is the projection of this need.

The images of advertisements during the intermissions are more

(The advertising starlette shows how much she likes the soap and
smiles to the audience)

suited than any for evoking an intermission of life.

To really describe this era it would no doubt be necessary to show

(The screen remains white until thirty seconds after the last word
is spoken)

many other things. But what would be the point? Better to grasp the
totality of what has been done and what remains to be done than to
add more ruins to the old world of the spectacle and of memories.

Source: http://library.nothingness.org/articles/SI/en/display/120

The stripped-down, moody compositions of Suchoon Mo are quiet, reflective excursions into passion, pain, and emotional contemplation, filled with Eastern sentiments expressed with Western musical styles. Infused with a sense of meditation, they use spiraling themes and partial repetitions to transport the listener downward through consciousness.

We present two pieces here: “Largo -after Tchaikovsky-” about which the artist says “Largos tend to lack, because of very slow tempo, intense and tumultuous passion. I believe I have succeeded in expressing such passion.” We also present his “Piano Sonata in C,” a playful and enthusiastic counterpart that builds off the largo’s quiet moodiness.—JP

Suchoon Mo is a former Korean Army Lieutenant and a retired university academic living in the semiarid part of Colorado. He authored a number of research papers and monographs in psychology. His poems and essays appeared in East and West, Bitter Oleander, Religious Humanism, Snakeskin, Dissident Editions, Tryst, Spillway Review, Thunder Sandwich, Subterranean Review, Subtle Tea, Verse Adagio Quarterly, Mad Hatters Review, Round Table Review, Strange Road, Orange Room Review, and others. His music compositions in real audio was show-cased in Sage of Consciousness, Mad Hatters Review and Strange Road. He has no formal music education. He is a 4th Dan black belt in Taekwondo and is an official International Referee of World Taekwondo Federation. He may be contacted at suchoon@aol.com.

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