Fred Moten – Reading
Fred Moten
African American history, avant-garde jazz riffs and activism intertwine in experimental verse of extraordinary and affecting beauty that has to be heard.
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African American history, avant-garde jazz riffs and activism intertwine in experimental verse of extraordinary and affecting beauty that has to be heard.
Out of a dark haze, shafts of light emerge, as the emulsion is scratched from the surface of the film. Simultaneously, out of the black silence, noise and audible scratches bloom into a bright drone.
Stripping back the domesticated ‘meaning’ of (everyday, mundane, kitchen) tools to reveal “a lexicon of rage and frustration.” Plus an allegorical use of mundane, everyday things as an examination of how meaning is constructed in film.
“Beginning where you and me ends, where we don’t so much come but are already here.” Join James and Nisha to talk about breath, erotics and flesh, about our social, poetic cosubstantiality.
An original and beautifully simple performed installation forging a direct link between sound and image.
Journalist and underground music champion Alan Cummings talks to Keiji Haino about his career and his performance the previous evening.
Taku’s actions strip back musical performance to one of its original proposals: what is an action and how does it create a situation for spending time together, for paying attention?
In many ways, this Episode is our attempt to engage with Fred’s incredible writing: with his proposal that all black performance (culture, politics, sexuality, identity, and blackness itself) is improvisation.
Introducing and setting intentions for a crip grief transformation and witness altar. A place to sit and breathe, remember our dead, wash our hands and leave offerings to and for loved ones we’ve lost – and for ourselves.
A film performance about Guy then, and Guy now, as a metaphor for the passing of time, which of course all film is inherently about.
Individual experience separated by physical boundaries (of space, time or ability) suggested as communities of collective experience by (perhaps voyeuristic) artists.
Philip Jeck creates slowly evolving symphonies that are as much about the crackling hiss of old vinyl as the actual ‘musical’ material.