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<div id="content"><h1 id="title">Title</h1>
<h3 id="grad-project-description">Grad project Description</h3>
<p>BackPlaces is a web-based anthology that explores intimate and
emotional spaces on the internet. It consists of four pages, each
embodying an archetype. The sunrise, the nosebleed, the star, and the
hand.</p>
<p>These pages trace a thread of online emotions: of shared grief,
collective processing through writing, youthful excitement, and finally,
of being on or off the internet. They present stories in the formats in
which they were originally told, allowing you to imagine yourself as one
of these pages, wearing your own clothing as a costume and reenacting
the play of your first kiss.</p>
<p>This project tenderly pays tribute to the rawest emotions found
online. It seeks to diversify the conversation by reminding us that the
internet is a reflection of the people and feelings that inhabit it. The
web is an artifice—a house built by others where we live and communicate
together. If we all left, the internet might cease to exist.</p>
<p>However, the internet can be a harsh landscape where sensitive
individuals find refuge in backplaces, rooms where they can be more than
their physical selves allow. Here, they meet, whisper secrets, share
laughter and pain, and grow together until they move on. These stories
reflect these moments, drawn from the collective knowledge of people
Ive loved online. Their words have been woven into stories to protect
and celebrate them. Some were social media comments, some were friends
sharing cake, some were emails, and some were conversations.</p>
<p>Hi.<br />
I made this play for you. It is a question, for us to hold together.</p>
<p>Is all intimacy about bodies? What is it about our bodies that makes
intimacy? What happens when our bodies distance intimacy from us? This
small anthology of poems and short stories lives with these
questions—about having a body without intimacy and intimacy without a
body.This project is also a homage to everyone who has come before and
alongside me, sharing their vulnerability and emotions on the Internet.
I called the places where these things happen backplaces. They are
small, tender online rooms where people experiencing societally
uncomfortable pain can find relief, ease, and transcendence.</p>
<p>I made three backplaces for you to see, click, and feel: Solar
Sibling, Hermit Fantasy, and Good Pie. Each of these is the result of
its own unique performance or project. Some of the stories I will share
carry memories of pain—both physical and emotional. As you sit in the
audience, know I am with you, holding your hand through each scene. If
the performance feels overwhelming at any point, you have my full
permission to step out, take a break, or leave. This is not
choreographed, and I care deeply for you.</p>
<p>Solar Sibling is an online performance of shared loss and the complex
pain that siblings can sometimes bring. This project uses comments
people left on TikTok poetry. I extracted the emotions from these
comments, mixed them with my own, and crafted them into poems. It is an
ongoing performance, ending only when your own feelings are secretly
whispered to me.</p>
<p>Hermit Fantasy is a short story about a bot who wants to be a hermit.
Inspired by an email response from a survey I conducted about receiving
emotional support on the Internet, this story explores the contradiction
of being online while wanting to disconnect. It is a web play inviting
you to navigate both of these feelings.</p>
<p>Good Pie is a great big play of pies, a performance that took a year
to bring together. It had three phases. First, as my friends left, I
baked each of them a goodbye pie. Then I hosted two performances. In the
first, I asked participants to eat cake, sitting facing or away from
each other and sharing their stories about cake and the Internet. In the
second I predicted participants future lives on the Internet using
felted archetypes and received stories from their Internet past in
return. This website is a reflection of all these experiences. Each Good
Pie has a filling that tells a story, merging the bodily with the
digital and making a mess of it all.</p>
<p>I love you and hope you see what I saw in these stories.</p>
<p>Safe dreams now. I will talk to you soon.</p>
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<div id="content"><h1
id="a-narrative-exploration-of-divergent-digital-intimacies"><?Water bodies>:
A narrative exploration of divergent digital intimacies</h1>
<p>Water, stories, the body, all the things we do, are mediums that hide
and show whats hidden. (Rumi, 1995 translation)</p>
<h2 id="for-you">꙳for you</h2>
<p>All intimacy is about bodies. Is this true? Does it matter? I doubt
it. Do you know? Lets find out, maybe.</p>
<p>Once, I thought that everything in the world was either one or zero
and that there was a harsh straight line between them. Then I found out
you could step or hop across the line, back and forth, if others showed
you how. Today, I am no less binary, no less interested in dichotomies,
but I am willing to dance through them if you are too. Can we dance
these dichotomies together, embracing the contradictions of the virtual
and physical, the comfortable and uncomfortable, intimate and
non-intimate? I cant do it alone, the subject is too heavy and the
binary is too 1011000. I wont ask you to resolve these contradictions,
I have no desire to. Instead, I hope we can cultivate the tension and
tenderness inherent in holding together incompatible truths because both
prove necessary.</p>
<p>To dance through these dichotomies I will start in a specific
position, growing from Donna Haraways in A Cyborg Manifesto”. In her
essay, Haraway explores the concept of a cyborg as a rejection of
boundaries between humans, animals, and machines. A symbol for a
feminist posthuman theory that embraces the plasticity of identity.
Before she does all this dancing, however, she takes a strong stance of
blasphemy. She engages seriously with traditional notions of feminism
and identity but with irony, not apostasy, which is to say without full
rejection—without unbelief. My position as I jump will be the same as
hers, ironic faith. My mocking is grave but caring and my primary aim is
for us only to spin fast enough not to see the line anymore, while still
being able to see the binaries. It wont be an easy dance for us but I
will do my best to keep softening for you, I promise.</p>
<p>I will show you a digital body, make it comfortable and then
uncomfortable, lightly intimate, and richly intimate. I have my own
story, my own digital body, of course. This is where I take my second
stance, however. This time, the position is Lauren Berlants, from The
Female Complaint. The book places individual stories as inescapable
autobiographies of a collective experience and uses the personal to
explain an intimate general experience. In our story, the difference
between my body and the collective digital body is unimportant, I hope
you see that. I will tell you my story if you know how to look, but I
will tell you through the stories of many others who shared them with
me. I have no other choice, every time I have tried to tell this story a
chorus of voices has come out.</p>
<p>Some of the stories I will tell you will carry memories of pain;
physical and emotional. I will keep holding you while you hear this, but
your limbs may still feel too heavy to dance. In that case, I give you
my full permission to skip, jump, or lay down completely. This is not
choreographed and I care deeply for you.</p>
<p>I love you and hope you see what I saw in these stories.</p>
<p>Safe dreams now, I will talk to you soon.</p>
<h2 id="digital-bodies">0. DIGITAL BODIES</h2>
<p>I think the worst must be finished. Whether I am right, dont tell
me. Dont tell me. No ringlet of bruise, no animal face, the waters salt
me and I leave it barefoot. I leave you, season of still tongues, of
roses on nightstands beside crushed beer cans. I leave you white sand
and scraped knees. I leave this myth in which I am pig, whose death is
empty allegory. I leave, I leave— At the end of this story, I walk into
the sea and it chooses not to drown me. (Yun, 2020)</p>
<h3 id="a.-what-is-a-digital-body">a. what is a digital body?</h3>
<p>A digital body is a body on the Internet. A body outside the internet
is simply a body. On the internet, discussions about corporeality
transcend the limitations of physicality, shaping and reshaping
narratives surrounding the self. This text explores the intricate
dynamics within these conversations, dancing at the interplay between
tangible bodies and their digital counterparts. The construction of a
digital body is intricately intertwined with these online dialogues,
necessitating engaged reconstructions of the narratives surrounding
physical existence. Yet, the resulting digital body is a complex and
contradictory entity, embodying the nuances of both its virtual and
tangible origins.</p>
<p>There is a specific metaphor that would allow us to better carry
these contradictions as we further explore digital bodies. Do you
remember that dream you had about deep ocean pie? Allow me to remind
you.</p>
<p>You were walking on the shore, slowly, during a summer that happened
a long time ago. Your skin was warm and you could feel the wet cool sand
sticking to your feet. The gentle lapping of the waves washed the sand
away as you walked towards the ocean. You stepped, stepped. Then dove.
Underwater, the sea unfolded deeper than you remembered. It was a
vibrant display of life: bright schools of small fish, and tall
colorful, waving corals. It looked like that aquarium you saw once as a
kid. Your arms moved confusingly through the water as if you were wading
through a soup or were terribly tired. On the sandy ocean floor, you saw
a dining table. It had a floating white tablecloth, one plate, a fork,
and a pie in the center of it, on a serving dish. You sat on a chair but
could not feel it underneath you. You ate a heaping slice of pie. It had
a buttery-cooked carrots filling. You woke up. In the world, the sun was
still timid and your bedroom thick with sleep. What a weird dream. You
rubbed your face, sat up on your bed, and drank the glass of water next
to you. You felt full, as if you just ate a plateful of carrot pie.</p>
<p>There were two bodies in this story. An awake one and a dream one, an
ocean one. In dreams, bodies have their own set of rules, often blurring
the boundaries between waking and sleeping, wanting and fearing. Digital
bodies are very similar to dream bodies. They exhibit a similar fluidity
and abstraction, a defiance of traditional notions of physicality. They
share the blurring and inherent potential nature of dream bodies. They
are slower, stronger, and different. They switch and change and melt
into each other, they lose and regrow limbs, they run sluggishly and fly
smoothly. If we scream in our dreams, we sometimes wake up still
screaming. Our waking bodies react to our dream bodies, they have the
same tears, the same orgasms, the same drives.</p>
<p>This is a story of two bodies, same but different, influenced but not
driven. A tangible body, full of fluids and organs, emotions and
feelings. Cartilage, bacteria, bones, and nerve endings. A digital body,
cable-veined and loud-vented, shiny and loading.</p>
<p>The digital body is ethereal and abstracted, embarrassing, graphic,
and real but not physical.</p>
<p>This is the beginning.</p>
<h3 id="b.-body-vs.-computer">b. body vs. computer</h3>
<p>Framing the discourse around bodies on the internet as a clear-cut
dichotomy feels clunky in todays internet landscape. The web is today
available by body, cyborg dimensions of the internet of bodies, or
virtual and augmented realities, creating a complex interplay between
having a body and existing online.</p>
<p>As intricate as this dance is now, it certainly did not begin that
way. It started with what felt like a very serious and tangible line
drawn by very serious tangible people; this is real life and this is
virtual life. Even people like Howard Rheingold, pioneers who approached
early virtual life with enthusiasm and care, couldnt escape
characterizing it as a “bloodless technological ritual” (1993).
Rheingold was an early member of The Whole Earth Lectronic Link (Well),
a seminal virtual community built in the 1980s that was renowned for its
impact on digital culture and played a pivotal role in shaping what
would become the landscape of the Internet. Rheingolds reflections on
his experience on this primordial soup of the Internet offer insight
into the initial conceptualizations of online life by those joyfully
participating.</p>
<p>In “The Virtual Community”, Rheingold offers a heartfelt tribute to
intimacy and affection through web- based interactions which, at the
time, were unheard of. He struggles in his efforts to highlight the
legitimacy of his connections, finding no way to do so except by
emphasizing their tangible bodily experiences. The communitys claim to
authenticity thus had to lie in the physical experiences of its members—
the visible bodies and hearable voices, the weddings, births, and
funerals (1993). (1).</p>
<p>Even then, and even by people with no interest in undermining the
value of the virtual, the distinction between physical and virtual was
confusing. Rheingold himself reinforces the boundary of body relations
and computer relations by referring to his family as a “flesh-and-blood
family and his close online friends as “unfamiliar faces” (1993).
Constantly interplaying digital connections with the physical
characteristics of the kind of connections people valued before the
internet. (2)</p>
<p>In any case, his primary interest seemed to be to emphasize computer
relations as valid forms of connection between bodies, not to talk of
any distinction quite yet. Its the eighties, the internet is still
fresh and new and the possibility to form close relations with strangers
online seems fragile and concerning yet exciting. This is the clearest
the distinction between in-real-life and online has ever been and its
still fuzzy and unclear.</p>
<p>At the same time and in the same digital space as Rheingold, there
was another man, a digital body being formed. This is our second story,
the ocean body we dreamt of earlier is now in a digital primordial soup,
questioning itself and stuck between staying and leaving. In this story,
its name is Tom Mandel and when he died, he did so on the Well.</p>
<p>Mandel was a controversial and popular figure in this pioneering
virtual community. According to many other members, Tom Mandel embodied
the essence of the Well—its history, its voice, its attitude. Mandels
snarky and verbose provocations started heated discussions, earning him
warnings such as “Dont Feed The Mandel!” (Leonard, 1995). His sharp
comments often stirred emotions that reminded people of family
arguments, fuelling an intimacy that was characteristic of the Well:
both public and solitary (Hafner, 1997).</p>
<p>Until 1995, Mandel had done a quite rigorous job of keeping his body
separate from The Well and had never attended any of the physical
in-person meetings from the community. His only references to being a
body had been on the “health” online conference, where he often talked
about his illnesses. One day, after nearly a decade of daily
interaction, he posted he had got the flu and that he felt quite ill.
When people wished for him to get well soon, he replied he had gone to
get tested and was waiting for a diagnosis. This way, when cancer was
found in his lungs, the community was first to know. In the following
six months, as his illness progressed, the community followed closely
(Hafner, 1997). They were first to know when Nana, a community member
with whom he had had a publicly turbulent relationship, flew to
California to marry him. The community was a witness and is now an
archive of his declining wit as cancer spread to his brain and his
famously articulate and scathing comments got shorter, fearful, and more
tender. (3)</p>
<p>Before he posted his final goodbye, he chose to do one last thing.
Together with another member, they programmed a bot that posted randomly
characteristic comments from Mandel on The Well—the Mandelbot. In the
topic he had opened to say goodbye, he posted this message about the
bot:</p>
<p>I had another motive in opening this topic to tell the truth, one
that winds its way through almost everything Ive done online in the
five months since my cancer was diagnosed. I figured that, like everyone
else, my physical self wasnt going to survive forever and I guess I was
going to have less time than actuarials allocateus [actually allocated].
But if I could reach out and touch everyone I knew on-line… I could toss
out bits and pieces of my virtual self and the memes that make up Tom
Mandel, and then when my body died, I wouldnt really have to leave…
Large chunks of me would also be here, part of this new space. (Hafner,
1997)</p>
<p>With the Mandelbot, Mandel found a way to deal with what he later
called his grieving for the community, with which he could not play
anymore once his own body died. By doing so, he was starting to blend
the boundaries of intimacy through computers and bodies, driven by his
love and grief. (4)</p>
<p>When he talked about the bot in previous messages, it sounded almost
like a joke. A caring haunting of the platform, to keep his persona
alive for the community in a way that could be quite horrific for those
grieving. In his admission though it becomes clear that this was closer
to an attempt to deal with his grief around losing the community, his
unreadiness to let go of a place he loved so dearly. A place just as
real in emotion, that was built in part by Mandels digital body and its
persona.</p>
<p>In a tribute posted after his death, fellow Well member and
journalist Andrew Leonard tried to convey his own sense of blended
physicality and emotion.</p>
<p>Sneer all you want at the fleshlessness of online community, but on
this night, as tears stream down my face for the third straight evening,
it feels all too real. (Andrew Leonard, 1995)</p>
<h3 id="c.-bot-feelings">c. bot-feelings</h3>
<p>An internet body has bot-feelings if allowed to. Let me explain.</p>
<p>A bot functions as a different entity from a cyborg, as it does not
attempt to emulate a human body but rather human action and readiness.
Its role is to mirror human behavior online, simulating how a physical
body might act, what it would click on, and what would it say. On social
media, bots engage in a kind of interpretative dance of human
interaction, performing based on instructions provided by humans.
(5)</p>
<p>Unlike an internet body, which represents the virtual embodiment of a
person, a bot doesnt seek to be a person. It comments under posts
alongside many other bots, all under a fake name and photo but nothing
else to give the illusion of humanity. When an internet body has
bot-feelings, it is a disruptive performance. They are feelings that do
not attempt to be human body feelings, they exist as their own genuine
virtual expression.</p>
<p>In “Virtual Intimacies”, McGlotten also incidentally argued that a
virtual body has bot-feelings (2013). He described the virtual as
potential, as a transcendent process of actualization, making it into,
generally, a description of bots. Internet bodies, as virtual, would be
by this understanding also charged with the constant immanent power to
act and to feel like a human body. It is a constant state of becoming,
of not- quite-pretending but never fully being anything either.</p>
<p>Most of the time we can tell disembodied bots online from tangible
people and as such they have the potential to be bodies, without ever
trying to be.</p>
<p>Of course, when McGlotten described the virtual as such he placed it
in a dichotomy, once again, against the “Intimacies” which are the other
side of his book. The emphasis here lies in intimacy being an embodied
feeling and sense and a carnal one at that. Virtual intimacies are, by
this definition, an inherent failed contradiction. However, McGlotten
plays with the real and non-real in new ways, using the text to
highlight how virtual intimacy is similar to physical intimacy and then,
even more, blurring as he shows the already virtual in physical
intimacies. Applying this to a body, rather than an affective
experience, works just the same.</p>
<p>McGlotten uses a conceptualization of the virtual based on the
philosopher Deleuzes, (6) which can be used to refer to a virtual body
as well. The virtual is in this case a cluster of waiting, dreaming, and
remembering, embodying potential. Something that is constantly becoming,
an object and also the subject attributed to it (2001). An internet body
with its bot-feelings is a body in the process of being one, acting as
one, an ideal of one beyond what is physical but including its
possibility.</p>
<p>Going a step further in McGlottens interpretation of Deleuze, this
also plays into how virtual intimacies mirror queer intimacies as they
approach normative ideals but “can never arrive at them”. Both queer and
virtual relations are imagined by a greater narrative as fantastical,
simulated, immaterial, and artificial—poor imitations and perversions of
a heterosexual, monogamous, and procreative marital partnership (2013).
A virtual body is similarly immanent, with both potential and corruption
at the same time. It carries all the neoliberal normative power of
freedom that a queer body can carry today but also reflects the unseemly
fleshly reality of having one.</p>
<p>This is where the story continues. The body from the dream ocean
leaves the primordial soup of the internet to stage a disruptive
performance. It moves from potential creation to a wild spring river. A
fluid being, that exists simultaneously inside and outside normative
constructions. It channels deviant feelings and transcendental opinions
about the collectives physical form genuinely as people use it to
navigate their physicality. Both virtual and queer intimacies highlight
the constructed nature of identity and desire. They disrupt the notion
of a fixed, essential self, instead embracing the multiplicity and
complexity inherent in human experience. This destabilization of
identity opens up possibilities for self-expression and connection,
creating spaces where individuals can redefine themselves beyond the
constraints of societal expectations while still technically under its
watchful eye. In essence, the parallels between virtual and queer
intimacies underscore the radical potential of both to disrupt and
reimagine the norms that govern our understanding of relationships,
bodies, and identity. They invite us to question the rigid binaries and
hierarchies that structure our society and to embrace the fluidity and
possibility inherent in the human experience.</p>
<h2 id="digital-comfort">1.DIGITAL COMFORT</h2>
<p>The only laws: Be radiant. Be heavy. Be green.</p>
<p>Tonight, the dead light up your mind like an image of your mind on a
scientists screen. The scientists dont know and too much.</p>
<p>In the town square, in the heart of night (a delicacy like the heart
of an artichoke), a man dances cheek-to-cheek with the infinite blue.
(Schwartz, 2022)</p>
<h3 id="a.-comfort-care">a. comfort care</h3>
<p>Lets care for this digital body. Ill feed it virtual vegetables
while you wipe away the wear of battery fatigue. And why not encourage
it to take strolls through the network, it might be good for it.</p>
<p>But what if it falls ill? What if its sickness is inherent, designed
to echo like the distorted reflection of rippling water a corrupted,
isolated, and repulsive physical form? Then we must comfort care for
it.</p>
<p>Comfort care is a key concept in healthcare, described as an art. It
is the simple but not easy art of performing comforting actions by a
nurse for a patient (Kolcaba, 1995). The nurse is in this story an
artist full of intention, using the medium of comforting actions to
produce the artwork of comfort for the uncomfortable. Subtle,
subjective, and thorough. However, achieving comfort for another is far
from straightforward. It demands addressing not only the physical but
also the psychospiritual, environmental, and socio-cultural dimensions
of distress, each requiring its blend of relief, ease, and transcendence
(Kolcaba, 1995).</p>
<p>In moments of need, digital comfort may become the only care certain
digressive bodies receive. When the distress a body is in becomes too
culturally uncomfortable, no nurse will come to check on it.</p>
<p>If care is offered, its often only with a desire to assimilate the
divergent body back into expected standards of normalcy and ability.
This leaves those with non-conforming bodies isolated, ashamed, and
yearning for connection and acceptance (7)</p>
<p>In the depths of isolation and confusion, marginalized bodies often
look for belonging and understanding online. Gravitating towards one
another with a hunger born of desperation, forming intimate bonds
through shared pain. Through a shared sense of unwillingness, a lack of
desire, and a desperate need for physical assimilation with the
norm.</p>
<p>The healthy body, the normal body, the loved body.</p>
<p>On the internet, these digital bodies claw onto each other, holding
each other close and comfort-caring for one another. The spaces where
this happens are rooms, or corners of the internet that Ill call back
places. Back places were initially defined by the sociologist Goffman as
symbolic spaces where stigmatized people did not need to hide their
stigma(1963). In our story, backplaces are small rooms online, tender
soft spaces reserved by those in terrible psychological pain themselves,
where they can find relief, ease, and transcendence.</p>
<p>Of course, when we speak of digital bodies, their physicality is not
relevant. To comfort care for a digital body one would thus need to
provide relief, ease, and transcendence for the mental, emotional, and
spiritual; through the digital environment of the body and the
interpersonal cultural relations of the individual. As with any place of
healing, however, it is a transient place. It is an achy place, for the
last step of the journey will see them leave the community and
compassion that saw and sustained them.</p>
<p>There is no other way for divergent people.</p>
<h3 id="b.-uncomfortable-comfort">b. uncomfortable comfort</h3>
<p>In the past and the present, social scientists have studied the
people in the corners of the internet, characterizing these spaces
between people as deviant. Like children lifting stones to look at the
bugs underneath— simultaneously repulsed and fascinated by the coherence
discovered where once was separation. A partition that was then
reinforced by the scientists themselves as they began documenting the
bugs behavior. They eavesdropped on conversations, captured intimate
moments, and asked again and again what made them so different. The more
they probed, the more they made sure to separate their behavior from the
norm to place the deviants against (Adler and Adler, 2005, 2008; Smith,
Wickes &amp; Underwood, 2013).</p>
<p>The concept of deviance, particularly concerning what people do with
their bodies and how their bodies behave, I find inherently flawed.
Observing from an artificial external standpoint only serves to further
alienate those already marginalized. I like to approach my research into
the intimacy and comfort care expressed in marginalized digital
communities without the alienation of social science. There are many
approaches one can take if one wishes to avoid this, and the one I am
choosing to borrow is a mathematical approach to anthropology. I would
like to borrow from mathematician Jörn Dunkels work in pattern
formation. Its a conscious choice to approach divergences in bodily
behavior through their similarities, not differences. This includes
specificities in atypicality, of course, but also the distinctions
between me as the writer and them as the writer. You as the reader and
you as the community. Me and you, as a whole. Both exist, both separate
but in what is not of such importance.</p>
<p>Though many of these systems are different, fundamentally, we can see
similarities in the structure of their data. Its very easy to find
differences. Whats more interesting is to find out whats similar. (Chu
&amp; Dunkel , 2021)</p>
<p>Individuals who forge and inhabit these communities, fostering
tender, intimate connections amongst themselves, are not deviant but
rather divergent. Deviance involves bifurcation, a split estuary from
the river of appropriate cultural behavior. (8)</p>
<p>Divergence can be so much more than that. In mathematics, a divergent
series extends infinitely without converging to a finite limit. A
repetition of partial sums with no clear ending, never reaching zero.
Mathematician Niels Abel once said that “divergent series are in general
something fatal and it is a shame to base any proof on them. [..] The
most essential part of mathematics has no foundation”(1826). Drawing a
parallel to social relations would then imply that there is no end to
divergence, too many paradoxes in the foundation of normativeness to
base anything on it.</p>
<p>Harmonic series are, on the other hand, also divergent series. They
are infinite series formed by the summation of all positive unit
fractions, named after music harmonics. The wavelengths of a vibrating
string are a harmonic series. These series also find application in
architecture, establishing harmonious relationships. Despite their
integral role in human aesthetics, all harmonic series diverge,
perpetually expanding without ever concluding. They embody a richness
that transcends conventional boundaries, blending into one another
infinitely.</p>
<p>[Figure 1 - Harmonic Series to 32 (Hyacint,2017).]</p>
<p>By likening digital bodies to divergent series, we embrace the
complexity and infinite possibilities arising from their
interconnectedness and deviation from the norm. However, its crucial to
note that the divergence Im discussing here carries a halo of pain,
accompanied by the requirement of bodily discomfort. There are other
forms of divergence, ways to have different bodies that necessitate
creating spaciousness around normativity to allow them grace to
grow.</p>
<p>The divergent digital bodies we are dancing with and caring for,
however, are of a particular type. If we were to go back to our water
stories, wed see that the digital bodies we are following are painful
ones. Cold, deep streams, hard to follow, hard to swim in. Their
divergence from the norm makes them so.</p>
<p>They have intricate relationships with themselves, existing in
unstainable forms devoid of comfort, nourishment, or thriving. What does
comfort mean for a body whose whole existence is uncomfortable?
Moreover, what if the comfort care performed for these divergent bodies
makes them too comfortable being in their pained state of self? Could
they be? (9)</p>
<p>Caring for a digital body involves providing it with space to live,
giving its experimental bot-feelings tender attention, and revealing
your own vulnerable digital body in response. Its about giving it an
audience, hands to hold, eyes that meet theirs in understanding. A
rehearsal room, a pillow, a mirror. These rooms, backplaces scattered
across the internet, are hidden enough to allow the divergent to
comfort- care for one another, sometimes to the point where it is only
the same type of divergent digital bodies reflecting back at each
other.</p>
<p>So far I have talked fondly of divergence and the harmony of
divergent series, and the need to have no finite ending. Id like to
tell you a different story now. Divergent digital bodies are, by this
point in our text, built and alive as they can be. They are many, they
are together and seeing each other, producing harmonic waves. They are
in backplaces on the internet, but they are less safe than they seem.
They are themselves resonant echo chambers, with an ongoing risk of
catastrophic acoustic resonance.</p>
<p>Acoustic resonance is what happens when an acoustic system amplifies
sound waves whose frequency matches one of its natural frequencies of
vibration. The instrument of amplification is important for the harmonic
series, for the music must not match exactly. An exact match will break
it for the object seeks out its resonance. Resonating at the precise
resonant frequency of a glass will shatter it. Digital bodies meet in
these rooms, amplifying their own waves seeking resonance but the risk
of an exact match is that it may shatter them. These spaces full of
divergent digital bodies quickly grow unstable, tethering echo chambers.
Rooms full of reflections, transforming what was once individual pain
into a mirrored loop of anguish. Caring for your own and others bodies
becomes increasingly difficult, making permanent residence in the mirror
room unbearable. You all know you must leave before you meet your exact
resonance.</p>
<h3 id="c.-unbearable-intimacy">c. unbearable intimacy</h3>
<p>This is the end of the story. Our digital bodies have a shape, a
sense of life and death, and someone to care for us and to care for. We
are alive and have found intimacy with each other.</p>
<p>We live in the backplaces, hiding and being hidden online as we have
been for years. We used to be on invitation-only forums,
password-protected bulletin boards, or encrypted hashtags. Now we are
alive in the glitches between pixels, in a shared language of numbers
and acronyms and misdirection. Avoiding a content moderation algorithm,
always hunting the dashboards of social media websites for visible pain
it can cure by erasure. We cannot tell you where to find you or it might
too. We try to stay alive, to hold each other, hiding behind code words,
fake names, and photos. We care for each other as best we can, the blind
leading the blind, the sick caring for the sick. We have brought our
unseemliness, our gory gross bodies to each other and found tender
intimacy and understanding.</p>
<p>On good days, dashboards are full of goodbyes and my heart swells
with hope, for those of us who make it and for the small bright light
telling us that we may be one of them. At the same time, some of us
leave only to come back ghosts of ourselves, hunting threads with the
empty hope of missionaries.</p>
<p>Dont give up, its worth it!</p>
<p>Most of us scoff at this. The idea of leaving only to come back and
tell people you left is uncomfortable, the failed progress that washes
away hope. A healed patient who regularly comes back to the hospital to
encourage the sick, who wish to be anywhere but there. The genuine love
and care within these communities transpire better under goodbye posts.
When people do heal and shed their accounts skin, they often leave it
surrounded by all those who once cared for the digital body within
it.</p>
<p>Im so proud of you! Never come back, we love you so much.</p>
<p>Recover, dont come back. Recover, dont come back. Recover, never
come back.</p>
<p>I had a conversation with a friend who once lived in these spaces
between letters but has since moved outside them. When asked, he
mentioned he could only find recovery by leaving that community. His
body has changed since now it is the spitting image of a standard,
healthy body. I didnt ask, but he knew Id wonder. He told me he didnt
like his new body and preferred the divergent one he once built himself.
Why leave then? Why did you stop?</p>
<p>Because that was no life.</p>
<p>Now life sparkles, everything feels brighter and more exciting. I got
my will to live back. Before, there was nothing but my body. I was
willing to die for it.</p>
<p>He pulls up the sleeve of his shirt to show me his shoulder, where he
has tattooed a symbol for a community friend who died.</p>
<p>I hope I never go back. I miss them every day.</p>
<p>This is the last dichotomy. For the divergent digital body cant stay
in a Backplace for very long, the intimacy of it is unbearable. It is an
intimacy that floods, and overruns. In their definition of intimacy in
the context of a public surrounding a cultural phenomenon, the author
Lauren Berlant denotes that intimacy itself always requires hopeful
imagination. It requires belief in the existence of an ideal other who
is emotionally attuned to ones own experiences and fantasies,
conditioned by the same longings and with willing reciprocity (2008).
(10)</p>
<p>In the context of the intimacy of a Backplace, where divergent
digital bodies have formed a community around existing outside the
healthy and standard, longing and hopeful intimacy becomes a heavy-
hearted and cardinal concept. Being in these rooms and finding care and
love for others like you can be so uncomfortable when the longings,
experiences, and fantasies you are sharing are centered around pain. The
shared cultural experience of existing as a collective divergent digital
body promises a fantasy of belonging, a collective hope, and commitment
that is extremely fragile.</p>
<p>There is a duality then, if not a dichotomy. As a divergent body,
there is nothing you crave more than to be seen and to be loved in a
space where you are safe, where the faces looking at you are not
repulsed but warm with familiarity. Yet, it is this very warmth that
becomes unbearable and an inherently traumatic intimacy. Being loved at
your worst, at your most embarrassing, cultural borderline self is an
agonizing duality to deal with. McGlotten, who was referenced earlier
concerning the potential of bot-feelings of a digital body, now comes
back to remind us of their impossibility. In his book, he talks of a
digital intimacy that inundates us and is both a source of connection
and disconnection (McGlotten, 2013). We are looking at a smaller scale
than he does, but intimacy in the context of shared vulnerability can be
a need just as intolerable.</p>
<p>Certain kinds of witnessing can become curses, shivers of resonance
so close to an explosion of glass if only you strike the cord that will
keep me going. Certain kinds of divergence can only end with leaving or
death, truth be told. People in these bodies know this, even if the
digital bodies behave as if there is hope in a future where the
divergence brings joy to ones life consistently. The shared
vulnerability itself then, is unbearable. I need you to see me, I need
you, who are just like me at my worst, to love me. When you do, I cant
stand it. It ruins both of us to be seen this way and we need it so
desperately. It has to exist and yet it cant for long.</p>
<p>I leave even though I love all of your digital bodies. I leave
because I love you, little digital body and you are me.</p>
<h2 id="a-life-to-be-had-11">2. A LIFE TO BE HAD 11</h2>
<h2 id="sidenotes">sidenotes</h2>
<ol type="1">
<li><p>Youre dreaming again, good. Would you feel closer to me if you
could hear my voice? Is my voice a sound? Could it be a
feeling?</p></li>
<li><p>I will be honest with you, I have little patience for this
recurring line of thought that seeks to distinguish peoples noses from
their hearts, as if there was a physical love that is the valuable one
and a virtual imaginary one that is feeble and unworthy.</p></li>
<li><p>Initially, when a member he often argued with o ered to pray for
him Mandel had replied: “You can shovel your self- aggrandizing
sentiments up you wide ass sideways for the duration as far as Im
concerned.” Later, as the cancer progressed: “I aint nearly as brave as
you all think. I am scared silly of the pain of dying this way. I am not
very good at playing saint. Pray for me, please.</p></li>
<li><p>Its out of care and not lack of relevance that I am not showing
you Mandels goodbye message. Its enough to know he was deep in the
grief of having to leave a community he loved and cared for and that
pain was felt in every word.</p></li>
<li><p>The first bot communities on the internet are now born, half-
mistakenly. They are always spiritual communities posting religious
images created by artificial intelligence, all the comments echoing
choirs of bots praising. Amen, amen, amen. I am not naive, I know they
are built by humans but it is this performance of religiosity that I am
interested in, and how little humanity is shown in it. It is something
else.</p></li>
<li><p>A step in a step in a step, sorry.</p></li>
<li><p>I am talking here about the distress caused by mental health
issues that have direct connections to physicality—self- injuring in any
direct form; food, drugs, pain. The culturally uncomfortable diseases,
the its- personal- responsibility, and just-stop disorders. This is a
hidden topic of this text because I cared more about the pain
surrounding them and the reasons to hide rather than the grim
physicality of them all.</p></li>
<li><p>Of course, the river itself is not a river; its many confused
streams that believe themselves both the same and separate. I dont know
where Im going with this, I just dont love the river of normativity
and Id rather go swim in the ocean of dreams with you.</p></li>
<li><p>I heard the idea of living questions for the first time in
“Letters to A Young Poet” by Rainer Maria Rilke and then again on the
podcast On Being with Krista Tippet. It may be a bit transparent but
this entire text is informed by the concept of keeping the unsolved in
your heart and learning to love it. Not searching for the answers for we
cannot live them yet. The point is to live it all. It could be that at
some point we will live our way to an answer but it is feeling the
questions alive within us that is important. Do you?</p></li>
<li><p>If we were to be honest, the entire exercise of writing this for
you requires this very faith.</p></li>
<li><p>Was this the end of this story? In the epilogue, you sit your
body down and enter your computer. The air coming in from the window
smells wet and earthy, new. The sun shines low on the horizon. You log
in to the internet and realize you are being told a story. You start to
listen, carefully and, full of love, touch the story to let it know you
are there. Delicate-fingered, curious like a child holding a fallen
bird. I hold you and the story tentatively.</p></li>
</ol>
<p>I dont know if I am touching you, to tell you the truth. Digital
bodies are stories, like physical bodies are, like dreams are, and like
water is.</p>
<p>Stories that are hard to tell and hard to hear and even more, maybe,
hard to understand. I have loved these stories and I have loved telling
them to you. I hope you understand that my goal was for you to live
these questions, to feel these stories in their confusion. My digital
body, my bot-feelings, my divergent communities. I have given them to
you, so they may live longer, like an obsolete but beloved cyborg shown
in a museum.</p>
<p>Look: I was here, Look: I was loved, Look: I was saved.</p>
<p>The digital bodies that kept me alive, kept me from becoming fully a
machine are no longer around in these online rooms. They are in
different places, being touched by tentative hands, being loved for more
than their divergence. I am too.</p>
<p>The rooms, the backplaces, however, are still full of others,
divergent digital bodies who did not leave, who keep caring for each
other at the bottom of the whirlpool. There is no happy ending because
there is no ending. They keep typing and hoping, writing their
collective pain down on keyboards that transmit love letters to each
other. I am not embarrassed by my care for you, but you may be so if it
helps. I know how overwhelming intimacy can be.</p>
<p>Telling you these stories was important for me, so much so that I
will tell you so many more in a different place if you wish to listen to
me longer. With this story, I dreamt of a digital body for you. It came
from an ocean of dreams, into a primordial soup that gave it enough
shape to become wild rivers, deep streams, sound waves. It flooded and
now, it leaves. A digital body that grew its own feelings, looked for
others like it, and realized its divergence and the need to leave. A
dream body, a primordial body, a disruptive body, a divergent body, and
now, a leaving body. This last story, however, of the leaving and loving
body, is yet to be told.</p>
<p>The sun is now almost up, and the birds are alive and awake, telling
each other stories just outside the room. We dont have so much time
left. I have made you something, to tell your digital body the stories
of the leaving and loving body. It is a webpage, the address is
adadesign.nl/backplaces.</p>
<p>You open the page, and you are asked to write the characters you see
in a captcha. E5qr7. eSq9p. 8oc8y. Fuck. You try not to panic, but you
know you have been detected.</p>
<p>You pack up your things: the pie I made you, a love letter, two hands
made out of felt, a star, a door, a stuffed animal; and you leave
again.</p>
<h2 id="references">references</h2>
<p>Adler, P.A. and Adler, P. (2008) The Cyber Worlds of self-injurers:
Deviant communities, relationships, and selves, Symbolic Interaction,
31(1), pp. 3356. doi:10.1525/si.2008.31.1.33.</p>
<p>Berlant, L.G. (2008) The female complaint the unfinished business of
sentimentality in American culture. Durham: Duke University Press.</p>
<p>Chu, J. (2021) Looking for similarities across Complex Systems, MIT
News | Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Available at:
https://news.mit.edu/2021/jorn-dunkel-complex- systems-0627 (Accessed:
08 March 2024).</p>
<p>Deleuze, G., Boyman, A. and Rajchman, J. (2001) Pure immanence:
Essays on a life. New York: Zone Books.</p>
<p>Goffman, E. (2022) Stigma: Notes on the management of spoiled
identity. London: Penguin Classics. Hafner, K. (1997) The epic saga of
the well, Wired. Available at: https://www.wired.com/1997/05/ff-well/
(Accessed: 01 February 2024).</p>
<p>Haraway, D.J. (2000) A cyborg manifesto: Science, technology, and
socialist-feminism in the late twentieth century, Posthumanism,
pp. 6984. doi:10.1007/978- 1-137-05194-3_10.</p>
<p>Hyacint (2017) Harmonic series to 32,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Harmonic_series_to_32.svg.</p>
<p>Kolcaba, K.Y. and Kolcaba, R.J. (1991) An analysis of the concept of
comfort, Journal of Advanced Nursing, 16(11), pp. 13011310.
doi:10.1111/j.1365- 2648.1991.tb01558.x.</p>
<p>Leonard, A. (no date) All Too Real, https://people.well.com/.
Available at: https://people.well.com/user/cynsa/tom/tom14.html
(Accessed: 01 April 2024).</p>
<p>McGlotten, S. (2013) Virtual intimacies: Media, affect, and queer
sociality [Preprint]. doi:10.1353 book27643.</p>
<p>Rumi, J. al-Din and Barks, C. (1995) Story Water, in The Essential
Rumi. New</p>
<p>Schwartz, C. (2022) Lecture on Loneliness, Granta. Available at:
https://granta.com/lecture-on-loneliness/ (Accessed: 08 March 2024).</p>
<p>Smith, N., Wickes, R. and Underwood, M. (2013) Managing a
marginalised identity in pro-anorexia and fat acceptance
cybercommunities, Journal of Sociology, 51(4), pp. 950967.
doi:10.1177/1440783313486220.</p>
<p>Yun, J. (2020) The Leaving Season, in Some Are Always Hungry.
University of Nebraska Press.</p>
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title: <?Water bodies> A narrative exploration of divergent digital intimacies
author: Ada
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<li><a href="">Special Issues</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<div id="content"><h1 id="title">Title</h1>
<h3 id="grad-project-description">Grad project Description</h3>
<p>This is where your grad project goes</p>
<div id="content"><h1 id="talking-documents">Talking Documents</h1>
<h3 id="section"></h3>
<p>Talking Documents are performative bureaucratic text inspections
using auto-ethnographical means that intend to create temporal public
interventions through performative readings.</p>
<p>While I had this inherent concern about borders and bureaucratic
structures in relation to migration, I decided to start zooming in and
explore my own bureaucratic surroundings through my personal lens. As a
student, I was eager to understand and dig into the educational
institutions bureaucratic mechanisms being driven by smaller-scale
bureaucratic struggles and peers narratives, stories and experiences.
My starting point were concerns and a need to explore potential
bureaucratic dramaturgies within the educational institution I am
currently part as a student. However, unexpected emergencies placed
centrally my personal bureaucratic struggles that were being unfolded in
parallel with the making period. Accordingly, this project was
dynamically being reshaped due to the material constraints of the
bureaucratic timeline. I utilized the paperwork interface of my
smaller-scale story in order to unravel and foreground questions related
to the role of bureaucracy as less material border and as a mechanism of
regulation that reflects narratives, ideologies, policies of the
state.</p>
<p>The scenario Central element of this project is a seven-act scenario
that construct my personal paperwork story, unraveling the actual
struggles of my communication with the government due my recent eviction
on the 31st of January 2024. The body of the text of the “theatrical”
script is sourced from the original documents, email threads as well as
recordings of the conversations with the municipality of Rotterdam that
I documented and archived throughout this period. I preserved the
sequence of the given sentences and by discarding the graphic design of
the initial forms, I structured and repurposed the text into a playable
scenario. I perceive the document as a unit and the primary interface of
the bureaucratic network. The embedded performativity of “real”
bureaucratic rituals establishes and empowers (bureaucratic)
institutions through repetitive acts. The transformation of the
materiality of a document into a scenario to be enacted collectively in
public attempts to examine these artifacts and highlight the shrouded
performative elements of these processes.</p>
<p>The public readings of the scenario I see the collective readings of
these scenarios as a way of instant publishing and as a communal tool of
inspecting bureaucratic bordering infrastructures. How can these
re-enactments be situated in different institutional contexts and
examine their structures? I am particularly interested in the
site-specificity of these “acts”. I organized a series of performative
readings of my own bureaucratic literature in different spaces and
contexts, pubic and semi-public, like Leeszaal, WDKA, Art Meets Radical
Openness Festival in Linz, the City Hall of Rotterdam where I invited
people to perform the play together, like a theater. The marginal voices
of potential applicants are embodying and enacting a role. “The speech
does not only describe but brings things into existence”(Austin, 1975).
My intention was to stretch the limits of dramaturgical speech through
vocalizing a document and turn individual administrative cases into
public ones. How do the inscribed words in the documents are not
descriptive but on the contrary “are instrumentalized in getting things
done”(Butler,1997). Words as active agents. Bodies as low-tech “human
microphones”. A group of people performs the bureaucratic scenario in
chorus, out loud, in the corridor of the schools building, in the main
hall, at the square right across, outside of the municipality
building.</p>
<p>I documented and recorded these public acts and I re-created the
collectively vocalised and transformed scenario. This audio piece is a
constellation of different recordings and soundscapes of these public
moments that I edited and collaged into a single story that could
constitute a vocal archive.</p>
<p>I am inviting past and future applicants, traumatized students,
injured bearers, bureaucratic border crossers, stressed expired document
holders to share, vocalize, read out loud, amplify, (un)name, dismantle
the injurious words of these artifacts.</p>
<p>[images] [Leeszaal West Rotterdam - 7th of November 2023 People
queuing to receive their documents] [WDKA- Winjhaven Building- 5th of
February 2024- reading of act0 “” and act1 “”] [Art Meets Radical
Openness Festival Linz, Austria - 11th of May 2024 - Reading act 2””
and act3 “” in the tent] x2 [City Hall Rotterdam- 30th of May 2024 -
Reading of act 5 “” and act 6 “”] x2 [XML at XPUB studio - January 2024
- Passport Reading Session] [BOOKLET 1] [BOOKLET 2]</p>
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<div id="content"><h1 id="title">Title</h1>
<h3 id="thesis-description">Thesis Description</h3>
<p>This is where your thesis goes</p>
<div id="content"><h1 id="performing-the-bureaucratic-borderlines">Performing the
Bureaucratic Border(line)s</h1>
<h3 id="i-n-t-r-o-d-u-c-t-i-o-n">i n t r o d u c t i o n</h3>
<p>This thesis is an assemblage(1) of thoughts, experiences,
interpretations, intuitive explorations of what borders are, attempting
to unleash a conversation concerning the entangled relation between
material injurious borders and bureaucracy. I unravel empirically the
thread of how borders as entities are manifested and (de)established.
How does the lived experience of crossing multiple borders change and
under what conditions?</p>
<p>The eastern Mediterranean borderland(2), I happened to come from,
proves to be one of Europes deadly borders towards specific ethnic
groups. The embodied experience of borders and practices of (im)mobility
change radically depending on the various identities of the people
crossing them. As I moved to the Netherlands I started more actively
perceiving bureaucracy as another multi-layered border. I was wondering
how this situation is shifted and transformed moving towards the
European North. What is the role of bureaucracy and how it could be
perceived as a mechanism of repulsion for some bodies - a camouflaged
border?</p>
<p>But what is my starting point and where does my precarious body fit
within the borders that I am touching? The language of the
administrative document is rigid and hurtful but myself lies between the
margins of these lines.</p>
<p>This thesis does not consist of an excessive inquiry about the
profoundly complex concepts of borders and bureaucracy. On the contrary,
it is initiated by personal concerns, awareness and my positioning. I
choose to structure my argument and talk through a personal process that
is being unfolded in parallel with the writing period. Accordingly,
these words are dynamically being reshaped due to the material
constraints of the bureaucratic timeline. A more distant approach became
personal and tangible with auto-ethnographical(3) elements as I was
trying to squish myself and my urgencies under these thresholds and fit
the A4 document lines.</p>
<p>I would like at this point to acknowledge and state explicitly my
privilege recognizing the different levels of otherness produced by the
several bordering mechanisms. My European machine-readable passport as a
designed artifact dictates and facilitates the easiness of my mobility.
In other (many) cases the lack of it creates profoundly a severe
barrier(4). I do not intend in any respect to compare my case to the
lived experiences and struggles of migrants and refugees. I utilize the
paperwork interface of my smaller-scale story in order to unravel and
foreground the aforementioned questions.</p>
<p>This thesis is very much indebted to some text-vehicles that
mobilized my reflections and nourished the writing process. “Illegal
Traveller, an autoethnography of borders” and “Waiting, a Project in
conversation” both written by Shahram Khosravi as well as “The Utopia of
Rules: On Technology, Stupidity, and the Secret Joys of Bureaucracy” by
the anarchist anthropologist David Graeber. Graeber initiated his
research utilizing the horrendous prolonged bureaucratic processes he
had to follow in order to place his sick mother in a nursing home. In
parallel, Khosravis work is itself the outgrowth of his own embodied
experience of borders, of ethnographic fieldwork among undocumented
migrants. I found valuable and inspiring in both texts the personal
filter through which they articulate their positioning and develop
critique.</p>
<p>I follow a zoom-in approach in mapping my thoughts beginning from the
large-scale rigid border as entity and ending up at the document as the
smallest designed artifact of the bureaucratic labyrinth.</p>
<p>In the first chapter, I touch the concept of borders in relation to
migration. I begin with a personal inspection and comprehension of
material borders as entities. Alongside, I interweave in the text the
concept of hospitality as a cultural attitude towards strangers from
the states perspective. Conditional and unconditional. How the document
I hold in my hands reflects positions on the governments conditional
hospitality and what constraints it dictates.</p>
<p>In the second chapter, I unpack bureaucracy and focus on its
bordering function. From migration ghost bureaucracies to the
educational bureaucracies of my surroundings to even smaller components
of this apparatus. I end up analyzing the document as a unit within this
complex network. Through the “interrogation” of the form as an artifact
are emerging issues related to language, graphic design and
transparency, universality, and underlying violence.</p>
<p>In the third and last chapter, I bridge the written text with the
ongoing project that runs simultaneously as part of my graduation work
in Experimental Publishing, where I mainly speak through my prototypes.
Talking documents(5) are performative bureaucratic text inspections,
vocal and non-vocal, that intend to create temporal public interventions
through performative readings. The intention is to underline how the
vocalization of bureaucracies as a tool can potentially reveal their
territorial exclusive function and provide space for the invisible
vulnerability.</p>
<hr />
<p>“on the other side is the river and I cannot cross it on the other
side is the sea I cannot bridge it” (Parra, cited by Anzaldua, 1987,
p.139)</p>
<h3 id="b-o-r-d-e-r-s">b o r d e r s</h3>
<p>How a border is defined? How, as an entity, does it define? How is it
performed? I used to think of borders in a material concrete way, coming
from a country of the European South that constitutes a rigid, violent
border that repulses and kills thousands of migrants and refugees. In
the following chapter, I will attempt to explore the terrain of material
borders in relation to bureaucracy as another multi-layered filter.</p>
<p>[Front-facing camera at self-counter in LIDL]</p>
<p>What constitutes a border? Is it a wall, a line, a fence, a machine,
a door, an armed body or a wound on the land? When somebody crosses a
border are they consciously aware of the act of crossing? I am crossing
the pedestrian street and walking on the white stripes to reach the
pedestrian route right across. Are the white stripes a border or a
territory to be crossed to reach another situation? Does the way I
perform my walking when I step onto the white stripes change? Is there
any embodied knowledge about what could be classified as border? Under
which circumstances does this knowledge become canonical? I hop over a
fence that separates one garden from another. What if instead of
assuming that the fence is a device or a furniture or a material of
enclosure, it is just part of the same land? The process or act of
jumping a fence can be itself a moment of segregation and a moment of
re-establishing or demonstrating the bordering function of it.</p>
<p>Borders could be considered as devices of both exclusion and
inclusion that filter people and define forms of circulation and
movement in ways no less violent than those applied in repulsive
measures. Closure and exclusion are only one function of the
nation-state borders. Of course, borders are not always that visible or
treated and perceived as borders, as Rumford argues they are “designed
not to look like borders, located in one place but projected in another
entirely” (Rumford, cited by Keshavarz, 2016, p.298)</p>
<p>As institutions, they seem to be much more complex, flexible, or even
penetrable in comparison with the traditional image of a wall as a
bordering device that demonstrates in a way itself. Crossing and borders
are inherently defined in relation to each other. “Where there is a
border, there is also a border crossing, legal as well as illegal”
(Khosravi, 2010).</p>
<h4 id="c-o-n-d-i-t-i-o-n-a-l-h-o-s-p-i-t-a-l-i-t-y">c o n d i t i o n a
l h o s p i t a l i t y</h4>
<p>I started thinking about hospitality as a cultural behavior and as an
inseparable term in the context of borders due to a recent personal
bureaucratic experience. Hospitality can be instrumentalized to describe
an individuals as well as a nations response towards strangers within
their enclosed territory - a property, a home, a land, a country. What
does hospitality mean and how hospitality under specific circumstances
can be a tool in the hands of a state?</p>
<p>I will share a personal story related to hospitality and bureaucracy.
I was recently evicted from my previous house [31/01/2024] due to a
trapping contract situation. My former roommates and I were forced to
terminate our previous contract and sign a new one that further limited
our rights. The bureaucratic free market language of the contract, the
foreign law language barrier, the threats of the agent and the precarity
of being homeless in a foreign country forced us to sign the new rental
agreement which was the main reason for our eviction. Currently, I am
hosted temporarily by friends until I find a more permanent
accommodation. Meanwhile, the government requires me to declare the new
address which I do not have within five days of my moving. Consequently,
I have to follow another bureaucratic path. This involves requesting
permission for a short-term postal address while declaring the addresses
of my current hosts [4/02/2024]. I gathered the required documents, I
processed a 9-page-text and another one with the personal data of my
hosts and myself and answered questions about:</p>
<p>why dont I have a house, who are the people who host me, what is my
relationship with them, where do I sleep, where do I store my
belongings, how many people are hosting me and accordingly their
personal data, for how long, why I cannot register there, what days of
the week do I stay in the one house and what days do I stay in the other
house, whether and how am I searching for a permanent place and what is
the tangible proof of my search?</p>
<p>All these questions provoked thinking around the concept of
conditional hospitality as a behavior of the state towards strangers. I
can see that on a smaller scale it is being applied to the hospitality I
receive from my friends in the middle of an emergency. I am wondering,
though, whether is it that important for the government to know on whose
couch I sleep or where I store my belongings. The omnipresent gaze of a
state who has the right to know every small detail about myself while at
the same time questioning peoples hospitality in case of emergency. It
seems that forms of knowledge are inseparably related to forms of power.
It will take 8 weeks for my request to be processed and for the
government to approve or reject if I deserve my friends
hospitality.</p>
<p>“Today as yesterday, her land and her time are stolen, only because
she is told that she has arrived too late. Much too late” (Khosravi,
2021)</p>
<h4 id="w-a-i-t-i-n-g">w a i t i n g</h4>
<p>Waiting can be considered as a dramaturgical means embedded in
bureaucratic procedures that camouflage power relations through the
manipulation of peoples time. When people are in the middle of a
bureaucratic process and waiting for the governments decision on their
case or just waiting for their turn. “The neoliberal technologies of
citizenship enacted through keeping people waiting for jobs, education,
housing, health care, social welfare or pensions turn citizens into
patients of the state” (Khosravi, 2021). I waited two weeks for a
response from the municipality only to discover that my request was
rejected [16/02/2024].</p>
<p>Contemporary border practices mirror past colonial practices, as they
exploit migrants time by keeping them in prolonged waiting, “like the
way colonial capitalism transformed lands to wastelands to plunder the
wealth underneath” (Khosravi, 2021). The current border regime, known by
extended waiting periods and constant delays, is part of a larger
project aimed at taking away wealth, labor, and time through colonial
accumulation and immediate expulsion.</p>
<p>When someone opens their house to a guest, a stranger, someone in
need, means that they open their property to someone. Hospitality is
interweaved with a sense of ownership over something. Expanding the
concept of hospitality to a nation-scale, we could say that the
nation-building process involves people asserting artificial ownership
over a territory even if they do not own any property within this
land.</p>
<p>Conditional hospitality is tied to a sense of offering back to the
home-land-nation-state-country as a way to win or trade your permission
to enter and enjoy the hospitality of a place. Coming from specific
places in comparison to others, having to offer some special skills or
your labor - if it is asked for - can be possible conditions that may
allow somebody to receive hospitality. I would say that an efficient
check of these conditions is regularly facilitated through bureaucratic
channels. The concept of unconditional-conditional hospitality is
closely related to exchange. When you do not have something to offer
according to the needs or expectations of a “household”, you may not
receive the gift of hospitality.</p>
<p>The notion of hospitality is excessively instrumentalized within the
Greek context portrayed as an “ideal” intertwined with the
nation-building narrative and as a foundational quality - product by the
Greek tourist industry. However, the Greek sea has been an endless
refugee graveyard and the eastern Aegean islands a “warehouse of
souls”(6) for the last many years. In this case, conditional hospitality
applies primarily to those who invest in and consume.</p>
<p>Hospitality can function as a filtration mechanism that permits
access lets in the ones who deserve it, those who have “passports,
valid visas, adequate bank statements, or invitations” (Khosravi, 2010).
By doing this, unproductive hospitality is being avoided due to
sovereign states border regulations and checks. Conditional
hospitality, is about worthiness, is directed towards migrants deemed
good and productive skilled and capable for assimilation- or a tiny
minority of vulnerable and marginalized asylum seekers who lack
representation. Only in a world where the nation-states boundaries have
been dismantled and where the undocumented, stateless, non-citizens are
unconditionally accepted, only at this moment, we are able to imagine
the “political and ethical survival of humankind” (Agamben, 2000).
Hospitality does not seem a matter of choice but a profound urgency, if
humanity desires to foster a future together.</p>
<h4 id="t-h-e-r-i-g-h-t-t-o-h-a-v-e-r-i-g-h-t-s">“ t h e r i g h t t o h
a v e r i g h t s ”</h4>
<p>(Arendt, as cited by Khosravi, 2010, p.121) What about the crossers
who managed to travel and reach the desirable “there”, the ones who
transcended the borders and the control checks of the ministries of
defense(7), the ones who enter but do not own papers, the paperless?
What does it mean to be documented and what is inefficiently documented
within a territory? They are threatened if they get caught by
authorities and also according to the official narrative, they threaten.
Since the physical mechanisms of bordering did not succeed in repulsing
them, the bureaucratic border appears as an additional layer of
filtration. The undocumented are non-citizens, they might be crossers or
burners(8), both, or even none. “Undocumented migrants and unauthorized
border crossers are polluted and polluting because of their very
unclassifiability” (Borelli, Poy, Rué, 2023). The loss of citizenship,
denaturalisation, makes somebody denaturalised, they are rendered
unnatural. “Citizenship has become the nature of being human” (Koshravi,
2010).</p>
<p>According to Hannah Arendt, the right to have rights and claim
somebody elses rights is the only human right (Arendt, as cited by
Khosravi, 2010, p. 121). The foundational issue with the Universal
Declaration of Human Rights is its dependence on the nation-state
system. Since human rights are grounded on civil rights, which are
essentially citizens rights, human rights are tied to the nation-state
system. Consequently, human rights can be materialized only in a
political community. “Loss of citizenship also means loss of human
rights” (Khosravi, 2010)</p>
<p>“…(9) I am here for the rights of the children which havent be in
the taking part in the education since they have undocumented mothers
and they are more than <em>(10) years. I am here to represent mothers
who are looking for a place to have a sense of belonging or how long are
you trying to continue humiliating them and the female gender. I am here
to express my frustration with IND(11). So frustrated. And I will not
stop talking about democracy. Democracy is the rule of law where
everybody feels included. Democracy is a rule of law where everybody
feels </em> We, undocumented people, we dont feel a sense of belonging
from the system.”</p>
<hr />
<h3 id="b-u-r-e-a-u-c-r-a-c-y-a-s-i-m-m-a-t-e-r-i-a-l-b-o-r-d-e-r">b u r
e a u c r a c y a s i m m a t e r i a l b o r d e r</h3>
<p>Apart from the rigid visible borders, bureaucracy related to
migrants, refugees and asylum seekers can also constitute an in-between
less visible borderland. I used to perceive bureaucracy as an immaterial
and intangible entity. However, now I can claim that this assumption is
not true. Bureaucracy is material and spatial and can be seen as an
apparatus, a machine, a circuitry, an institution, a territory, a
borderland, a body, a zone a “dead zone of imagination” as Graeber
claims. It can be inscribed on piles of papers, folders, drawers,
booklets, passports, IDs, documents, screens, tapes, bodies, hospital
corridors, offices, permissions to enter, stay, work, travel, exist,
come and go, leave, visit family, bury a friend.</p>
<p>Bureaucratic documents especially those related to migration, can
become territories or should be interpreted “as sites where social
interactions happen, where power relations unfold and are contested”
(Cretton, Geoffrion, 2021). When these bureaucratic objects are used and
manipulated, they can constitute sites of “confrontation, reproduction,
negotiation and performance” (Cretton, Geoffrion, 2021) shaping social
relations and producing meaning.</p>
<p>Bureaucracy related to asylum seekers reveals the profound bordering
nature of these practices, as a continuous process of producing
otherness. Accordingly, I see bureaucracy as a practice that raises
material and symbolic walls for specific groups of people who are
rendered unwanted and unwelcome because they dared to cross the borders
of the Global North. It is as if they could never manage to eventually
arrive and shelter their lives within the desirable “there”(12). “In
these bordering processes, we can detect the “coloniality of asylum”(13)
(Borelli, Poy, Rué, 2023). Bureaucracies in practice act as filters,
determining who, from an institutional standpoint, deserves to receive
protection and who does not. They operate as systems that classify
non-citizens and place them in a social hierarchy of disproportionate
unequal obligations, lack of rights and access to institutional
support.</p>
<h4
id="h-i-g-h-e-r-e-d-u-c-a-t-i-o-n-s-e-x-p-a-n-d-i-n-g-b-u-r-e-a-u-c-r-a-c-y">h
i g h e r e d u c a t i o n s e x p a n d i n g b u r e a u c r a c
y</h4>
<p>While I had this inherent concern about borders and bureaucratic
structures in relation to migration, I decided to start zooming in and
explore my own bureaucratic surroundings through my personal lens. As a
student, I was eager to understand and dig into the educational
institutions bureaucratic mechanisms being driven by smaller-scale
bureaucratic struggles and peers narratives, stories and experiences.
How can higher education in a European country reflect policies around
migration and border control less profoundly. How can education filter
and distinguish, how it can reproduce efficiently itself?</p>
<p>I gradually started perceiving the bureaucratic apparatus as an
omnipresent immaterial border - a ghost infrastructure - that one always
encounters but does not really see, a borderland that lies in the gray
zone between visibility and invisibility. Bureaucracy renders us
“stupid” and vulnerable in front of it. It is rarely questioned but it
should be performed efficiently for people to exist properly.</p>
<p>The contradiction embedded in many cultural and educational
institutions lies in the level of unawareness regarding surveillance via
multiple bureaucratic rituals that (re)produce docile behaviors. How
these mechanisms are masked and standing in the margins of the visible
nonvisible sphere.</p>
<p>“This is what makes it possible, for example, for graduate students
to be able to spend days in the stacks of university libraries poring
over Foucault-inspired theoretical tracts about the declining importance
of coercion as a factor in modern life without ever reflecting on that
fact that, had they insisted their right to enter the stacks without
showing a properly stamped and validated ID, armed men would have been
summoned to physically remove them, using whatever force might be
required.”, (Graeber, 2015)</p>
<p>The genuine essence of education is not bureaucratic at all, neither
does it have to fit and ground its foundations under a bureaucratic
roof. “The pedagogical process runs counter to the hierarchical,
impersonal qualities of bureaucracy” (Cunningham, 2017). However, people
working in educational institutions acknowledge the fact that entrenched
bureaucratic systems impose their material constraints on teaching
structures and on how these actors in this process interact with each
other.“Students and staff are treated as human capital” (Cunningham,
2017). This determination can dehumanize people involved, like when
“faculty-as-labor” and “students-as-consumers” are marginalized and
treated as just variables.</p>
<table>
<tbody>
<tr class="odd">
<td>|…………………*…………………|</td>
</tr>
<tr class="even">
<td>|………………………………………|</td>
</tr>
<tr class="odd">
<td>|………………………………………|</td>
</tr>
<tr class="even">
<td>|………………………………………|</td>
</tr>
<tr class="odd">
<td>|………………………………………|</td>
</tr>
<tr class="even">
<td>|………………………………………|</td>
</tr>
<tr class="odd">
<td>|………………………………………|</td>
</tr>
<tr class="even">
<td>| |</td>
</tr>
<tr class="odd">
<td>| … + |</td>
</tr>
</tbody>
</table>
<p>“t h e r e i s n o D O C U M E N T o f c i v i l i s a t i o n w h i
c h i s n o t a t t h e s a m e t i m e a d o c u m e n t o f b a r b a
r i s m” -Walter Benjamin- (Pater, 2021)</p>
<h4 id="t-h-e-d-o-c-u-m-e-n-t">t h e d o c u m e n t</h4>
<p>From fences and armed police to nation-state mechanism of
less-material bordering to bureaucracy to the elements of bureaucracy to
the document itself as the minimum unit of an apparatus. Understanding
and unhiding the violence of a form -violence materialized and at the
same time camouflaged by the language structure, the vocabulary, the
graphic design, their ability to render subjectivities that fit and
dont fit within the controlled territory of the lines of the form. A
language that fragments, classifies, places and un-places. Thus
bureaucratic apparatus is something more than a metaphor it is also a
symbol. It is hard to see that there are many more layers beneath the
purpose it propagates. A metaphor that is so perfectly materialized as
well as naturalized that you cannot even see it.</p>
<h4 id="b-u-r-e-a-u-c-r-a-c-y-a-s-t-e-x-t-u-a-l-i-n-s-t-i-t-u-t-i-o-n">b
u r e a u c r a c y a s t e x t u a l i n s t i t u t i o n</h4>
<p>The bureaucratic apparatus can be considered as something more than
an infrastructure that organizes institutions, markets, states, etc. It
can constitute itself an institution, a textual institution. As the
factory generates commodities and sets them within a circuit of motion,
bureaucracy generates documents and sets them throughout a communicative
circuitry (Cunningham, 2017). An institution that organizes and
(infra)structures other institutions and similarly reproduces itself
through text. The materiality of a text document reflects the ideology
of the interconnected institutions and their underlying bureaucratic
systems. Language occupies a dual contradictory role as the foundational
element of bureaucracy. Language can become a shroud to conceal the
violence and reinforce hierarchical structures and simultaneously can be
transformed into the rigid rational cell itself. They shape their own
narratives, they reflect the institutional narratives.</p>
<h4 id="t-h-e-m-y-t-h-o-f-u-n-i-v-e-r-s-a-l-i-t-y">t h e m y t h o f u n
i v e r s a l i t y</h4>
<p>One of the great powers of bureaucracies is their ability to render
themselves transparent. It seems that bureaucracy does not have to say
anything more beyond itself, is self-referential and self-contained. It
is boring or most likely is supposed to be boring. “One can describe the
ritual surrounding it. One can observe how people talk about or react to
it” (Graeber, 2015). The supposed universality of the form which is
carefully constructed can be partly attributed to the individuality and
impersonality of many bureaucratic processes. “Bureaucracies operate
through an assemblage of hierarchy, impersonality, and procedure in
order to complete organizational tasks with maximum efficiency” (Weber,
as cited by Cunningham, 2017, p. 307).</p>
<p>I had to open a discussion with students from non-EEA (non European
Economic Area) countries in order to understand that they have to
conduct tuberculosis x-rays(14) when they arrive in the Netherlands. It
seems that for the Dutch state, their bodies might be more threatening
than bodies coming from a European country. The relativization in the
quality and the quantity of paperwork requested from different “groups”
of applicants in a specific context deconstructs the myth of the
universality of the bureaucratic form.</p>
<p>Undoubtedly the success of bureaucracy is drawn from its efficiency
in relation to schematization as an efficient material quality. “Whether
its a matter of forms, rules, statistics, or questionnaires, it is
always a matter of simplification (Cunningham, 2017)”. Bureaucracies
ignore the social existence of a person and fragment, classify and
define them under specific perspectives. Why do they ask for this
information instead of others? “Why place of birth and not, say, place
where you went to grade school? Whats so important about the
signature?” (Graeber, 2015)</p>
<h4 id="m-a-t-e-r-i-a-l-i-t-y---u-n-d-e-r-l-y-i-n-g-v-i-o-l-e-n-c-e">m a
t e r i a l i t y - u n d e r l y i n g v i o l e n c e</h4>
<p>There is a great materiality in bureaucracies. Bureaucratic
procedures are often compared to a labyrinth which appears as a
similarly complex structure constituted by simple geometrical shapes
(Weber, as cited by Cunningham, 2017, p.310). Bureaucratic documents can
be complicated and multiple due to this infinite accumulation of really
simple but at the same time contradictory elements. A constant
juxtaposition of letters, symbols, stamps, signatures, paper, ink,
barcodes, QR codes within a circuit of workers, interweaved and
interconnected offices, repetitive performative tasks and rituals.</p>
<p>Underneath every bureaucratic document, there is a good amount of
graphic design labor. What kind of visual strategy is embedded in
administrative objects that the design aspect of these artifacts appears
to be invisible? The material decisions applied as well as the material
constraints attributed to the document can transform or produce
different textual meanings and consequently understandings.</p>
<p>“This does not mean that constraints limit meaning, but on the
contrary, constitute it; meaning cannot appear where freedom is absolute
or nonexistent: the stem of meaning is that of a supervised freedom”,
(Roland Barthes, 1983)</p>
<p>When I encountered the green logo of the municipality of Rotterdam I
did not cultivate any feelings of enthusiasm or even boredom. A big
calligraphic “R” with the flawless green ribbons that penetrate it on
the left corner of a 229x162 mm standardized dimension folder with a
transparent rectangle that reveals my inscribed name and surname from
the inside part. I did not put any aesthetic critique over this but I
rather felt this rush of stress for the expected response to my
objection letter or a fine or a tax to be paid within a specific
timeline cause another fine would come if I did not comply with
this.</p>
<p>One month ago (from the writing present), my friend Chae made for my
birthday this amazing Dutch-government-like biscuit forms, recreating
the entire layout of the document using the interface of a crunchy
biscuit. She used the same color blue scheme and she placed the biscuit
form inside the same standardized dimension folder 229x162 mm with the
same transparent layer that reveals my name and surname. According to
literary critic and theorist Katherine Hayles:</p>
<p>“to alter the physical form of the artifacts is to change the act of
reading and understanding but mostly you transform the metaphoric and
symbolic network that structures the relation of world to world. To
change the material artifacts is to transform the context and
circumstances for interacting with the words, which inevitably change
the meaning of the word itself. This transformation of meaning is
especially possible when the words interact with the inscription
technologies that produce them” (Hayles, 2002).</p>
<p>In the latter case, the inscription technology used is the sugar blue
paste and the handwriting of Chae. The text in the white-blue government
document forces a different reading from the white-blue biscuit
document, even if they carry the same bits of information. If I do not
read carefully the text in the folder and if I do not act according to
the suggested actions there is a threat. The level of threat varies in
relation to the case, the identities of the holder, the state, the
context, etc. There is no room for negotiation in bureaucracy and this
is the omnipresent underlying violence. The threat of violence shrouded
within its structures and foundations does not permit any questioning
but on the contrary creates “willful blindness” towards them(15).
Bureaucracies are not stupid inherently rather they manage and coerce
processes that reproduce docile and stupid behaviors.</p>
<p>[ The birthday biscuit that Chae made, re-creating the Dutch
government form ]</p>
<hr />
<h3 id="v-o-c-a-l-a-r-c-h-i-v-e-s-t-a-l-k-i-n-g-d-o-c-u-m-e-n-t-s">v o c
a l a r c h i v e s t a l k i n g d o c u m e n t s</h3>
<p>This chapter is mainly a constellation of some prototypes I created
while writing and coping with personal bureaucratic challenges. I
provided some further space for my anxiety by unpacking and exploring
the material conditions that nourished it within this timeline.</p>
<p>An administrative decision on a case may not seem necessarily hurtful
in linguistic terms. However, it can be injurious and severely
threatening. By performing the bureaucratic archival material of my
interactions with the government, I aim to draw a parallel narrative
highlighting the bordering role of bureaucracy and the concealed
underlying violence it perpetuates.</p>
<p>A bureaucratic text does not just describe a reality, a decision, a
case or an action, but on the contrary, it is capable of changing the
reality or the order of things that is described via these words.
Bureaucratic official documents are inherently performative. These texts
regulate and bring situations into being.</p>
<p>My intention in transforming bureaucratic texts into “playable”
scenarios is to explore how embodying these texts in public through
collective speech(16) can provoke different forms of interpretations and
open tiny conceptual holes. “The meaning of a performative act is to be
found in this apparent coincidence of signifying and enacting” (Butler,
1997). The performative bureaucratic utterances - the vocal documents -
attempt to bring into existence -by overidentifying, exaggerating,
acting- the discomfort, the threat, the violence which is mainly
condemned into private individual spheres.</p>
<p>How performing a collection of small bureaucratic stories can
function as an instant micro intervention and potentially produce a
public discourse. Where do we perform this speech, where and when does
the “theater” take place? Who is the audience? I am particularly
interested in the site-specificity of these “acts”. How can these
re-enactments be situated in an educational context and examine its
structures? Is it possible for this small-scale publics to provoke the
emergence of temporal spaces of marginal vulnerable voicings? According
to the agonistic approach of the political theorist Chantal Mouffe,
critical art is art that provokes dissensus, that makes visible what the
dominant narrative tends to undermine and displace. “It is constituted
by a multiplicity of artistic practices aiming at giving a voice to all
those who are silenced within the framework of the existing hegemony”
(Mouffe, 2008).</p>
<p>I started working and engaging more with different bureaucratic
material that my peers and I encountered regularly or appeared in our
(e)mail (in)boxes and are partly related to our identities as foreign
students coming from different places. I chose to start touching and
looking for various bureaucracies that surround me as a personal filter
towards it. From identification documents and application forms to
rental contracts, funding applications, visa applications, quality
assurance questionnaires related to the university, assessment criteria,
supermarket point gathering cards, receipts. A sequence of locked doors
to be unlocked more or less easily via multiple bureaucratic keys. The
methods and tools used to scrutinize the administrative artifacts are
not rigid or distinct. It is mainly a “collection” of small bureaucratic
experiments - closely related to language as well as the performative
“nature” of these texts themselves. I was intrigued by how transforming
the material conditions of a piece of text could influence the potential
understandings and perceptions of its meaning.</p>
<h4 id="p-r-o-t-o-t-y-p-e-s">p r o t o t y p e s</h4>
<h4 id="section">1.</h4>
<p>Title: “Quality Assurance Questionnaire Censoring” When: October 2023
Where: XPUB studio wall Who: myself</p>
<p>Description: Some months ago my classmates and I received an email
with a questionnaire aimed at preparing us for the upcoming quality
assurance meeting within the school. Ada and I had a meeting, in an
empty white room with closed doors, with an external collaborator of the
university. The main request was to rate and answer the pre-formulated
questions covering issues about performance, different and multiple
topics related to the course, the teaching staff, the facilities, the
tools provided. The micro linguistic experiment of highlighting,
censoring and annotating this document aimed for an understanding of
what a quality assurance meeting is within an educational
institution.</p>
<p>Reflections-Thoughts: This experiment was my first attempt to start
interrogating and observing the language and the structure of a
bureaucratic document. How these “desired” standards propagated through
text. What is the role of the student-client in these processes as an
esoteric gaze of control over the course and their teachers? My focus
was to locate and accumulate all the wording related to measurements,
rate, quantity, assessments, statistics. Highlighting the
disproportionate amount of metrics-related vocabulary was enough to
craft the narrative around this process.</p>
<p>These rituals are components of a larger “culture of evidence”,
serving as a tool that blurs the distinction between discourse and
reality (Cunningham, 2017). This culture of evidence influences how
people perceive and understand information. The primary purposes of
these metrics are twofold: they play a role in the marketing sphere,
attracting potential students to the university as well as they are
utilized in interactions and negotiations with the government, which
increasingly cuts budgets allocated to universities.</p>
<p>[ The linguistic experiment of the Quality Assurance Questionnaire
Document ]</p>
<h4 id="section-1">2.</h4>
<p>Title: “Department of Bureaucracy and Administration Customs
Enforcement” When: November 2023 Where: Leeszaal(17) Who: XPUB peers,
tutors, friends, alumni</p>
<p>Description: During the first public moment at Leeszaal, I decided to
embody and enact the traditional role of a bureaucrat in a graphic and
possibly absurd way performing a small “theatrical play”. I prepared a
3-page and a 1-page document incorporating bureaucratic-form aesthetics
and requesting applicants fake data and their answers for questions
related to educational bureaucracy. People receiving an applicant number
at the entrance of Leeszaal, queuing to collect their documents from the
administration “office”, filling forms, waiting, receiving stamps,
giving fingerprints and signing, waiting again were the main components
of this act.</p>
<p>Reflections-Thoughts: Beyond the information gathered through my
bureaucratic-like questionnaires, the most crucial element of this
experiment was the understanding and highlighting of the hidden
performative elements that entrench these “rituals”. It was amazing
seeing the audience becoming instantly actors of the play enacting
willingly a administrative ritualistic scene. The provided context of
this “play” was a social library hosting a masters course public event
on graduation projects. I am wondering whether this asymphony between
the repetitive bureaucratic acts within the space of Leeszaal, where
such acts are not expected to be performed, evoked contradictory
feelings or thoughts. Over-identifying with a role was being
instrumentalized as an “interrogation” of ones own involvement in the
reproduction of social discourses, power, authority, hegemony.</p>
<p>[ Participants, during Leeszaal event, are waiting in a queue (18) to
collect the application forms and sign1 ] [ One of the forms that the
audience had to fill out during the Lesszaal event ]</p>
<h4 id="section-2">3.</h4>
<p>Title: “Passport Reading Session” When: January 2024 Where: XML
XPUB studio Who: Ada, Aglaia, Stephen, Joseph</p>
<p>Description: This prototype is a collective passport reading session.
I asked my classmates to bring their passports or IDs and sitting in a
circular set up we attempted to “scan” our documents. Every contributor
took some time to browse, annotate verbally, interpret, understand,
analyze, vocalize their thoughts on these artifacts, approaching them
from various perspectives. The three passports and one ID card were all
coming from European countries.</p>
<p>Reflections-Thoughts: For the first time I observed this object so
closely. The documentation medium was a recording device, Adas mobile
phone. The recording was transcribed by vosk(19) and myself and a small
booklet of our passport readings was created.</p>
<p>“So the object here is like not by random it comes from the history
of nation-states and how nation-states and nationalities created like a
form of identity. So nation-state is actually a recent invention that
came into existence over the last two hundred fifty years in the form as
we know it nowadays, in the form of democratic capitalism, before like
monarchies and so on and each citizen of such a nation-state got also
kind of a particular identity”, Joseph says about his ID card.</p>
<p>We read the embedded signs, symbols, categories, texts, magical
numbers in our passports that construct our profiles. Seeing someones
passport, ID cards, visas, travel documents might mean that you are able
to understand how easy or not is for them to move, what are their travel
paths, how departure or arrival is smooth or cruel. Are there emotions
along the way? For some people these are documents “that embody power —
minimal or no waiting, peaceful departure, warm and confident arrival”
(Khosravi, 2021).</p>
<p>[ Part of the A6 booklet of the transcription of the passport
readings session ] x2</p>
<h4 id="section-3">4.</h4>
<p>Title: “Postal Address Application Scenario” When: February 2024
Where: Room in Wijnhaven Building, 4th floor Who: XPUB 1,2,3, tutors,
Leslie</p>
<p>Description: This scenario is the first part of a series of small
episodes that construct a bureaucratic story unfolding the processes of
my communication with the government. The body of the text of the
“theatrical” script is sourced from the original documents as well as
recordings of the conversation I had with the municipality throughout
this process. I preserved the sequence of the given sentences and by
discarding the graphic design of the initial form, I structured and
repurposed the text into a scenario. The main actors were two
bureaucrats vocalizing the questions addressed in the form, in turns and
sometimes speaking simultaneously like a choir, three applicants
answering the questions similarly while a narrator mainly provided the
audience with the context and the storyline constructing the scenery of
the different scenes.</p>
<p>The first and the last moment of the performance was during a
semi-public tryout moment where XPUB peers performed the distributed
scenario in a white room on the 4th floor of the Winjhaven building.
They were seated having as a border a black long-table. A border
furniture between the bureaucrats and the applicants. The narrator was
standing still behind them while they were surrounded by the audience.
The main documentation media of the act were a camera on a tripod, a
recorder in the middle of the table and myself reconstructing the memory
of the re-enactement at that present - 6 days later.</p>
<p>Reflections-Thoughts: Vocalizing and embodying the bureaucratic
questions was quite useful in acknowledging the governments voice and
presence as something tangible rather than a floating, arbitrary entity.
It was interesting observing the bureaucrats performing their role with
confidence and entitlement, contrasting with the applicants who appeared
to be more stressed to respond convincingly and promptly. There is a
notable distinction between performativity and performance. Performing
consciously and theatrically amplifying real bureaucratic texts by
occupying roles and overidentifying with them can constitute a
diffractive moment, a tool itself. From bureaucratic text to
performative text scenarios to speech. The embedded (but rather
unconscious) performativity of “real” bureaucratic rituals establishes
and empowers (bureaucratic) institutions through repetitive acts. These
theatrical moments attempt to highlight the shrouded performative
elements of these processes.</p>
<p>[ A6 booklet of the first chapter of the “theatrical” scenario
created out of the Postal Address Application documents and performed by
XPUB peers ] x2</p>
<hr />
<h3 id="instead-of-c-o-n-c-l-u-s-i-o-n">(instead of) c o n c l u s i o
n</h3>
<h4
id="next-chapters-of-the-case-with-reference-number-a.b.2024.4.03188">(next
chapters of the case with reference number A.B.2024.4.03188)</h4>
<p>I expanded the “play” by incorporating additional “scenes” sourced
again from the documents accompanying the ongoing “conversation with the
government”. Two weeks after submitting my application for a short-term
postal address [16/02/2024], I received a letter from the municipality
stating their rejection of my request and warning me of potential fines
if I fail to declare a valid address and provide a rental contract.
After extensive communication with the municipality, I decided to
respond to this decision by writing and sending an objection letter
[19/02/2024]. The objections committee received my letter [21/02/2024],
and after some days, they issued a confirmation letter outlining the
following steps of the objection process which involves hearings with
municipality lawyers and further investigation of my case. The textual
components collaged for the next “episodes” are sourced from the
transcribed recordings of my actual conversations with the municipality
clerks, my objection letter, the confirmation documents including the
steps I am required to take.</p>
<p>My case has finished by this time. I withdrew my objection
[7/03/2024] and I de-registered [11/03/2024] after a good amount of
stress and precarity. My bureaucratic literature is meant to be read and
voiced collectively. Peoples bureaucratic literatures should be read
and voiced collectively.</p>
<p>My intention is to facilitate a series of collective performative
readings of bureaucratic scenarios or other portable paperwork stories
as a way of publishing and inspecting bureaucratic bordering
infrastructures. The marginal voices of potential applicants are
embodying and performing a role. “The speech does not only describe but
brings things into existence” (Austin, 1975). I would like to stretch
the limits of dramaturgical speech through vocalizing a document in
public with others and turn an individual administrative case into a
public one. How do the inscribed words in the documents are not
descriptive but on the contrary “are instrumentalized in getting things
done” (Butler, 1997). Words as active agents. I am inviting past and
future applicants, traumatized students, injured bearers, bureaucratic
border crossers, stressed expired document holders or just curious
people to share, vocalize, talk through, read out loud, amplify,
(un)name, unplace, dismantle the injurious words of these artifacts.</p>
<p>[ Part of A6 booklet scenarios of the next chapters of my
bureaucratic story aimed to be performed ] x2</p>
<hr />
<h4 id="we-didnt-cross-the-border-the-border-crossed-us20">“we didnt
cross the border, the border crossed us”(20)</h4>
<p>As I sit in the waiting area at the gate B7 in the airport preparing
to come back to the Netherlands, I am writing the last lines of this
text. I am thinking of all these borders and gates that my body was able
to pass through smoothly, carrying my magical object through which I
embody power- at least within this context. However, I yearn for a
reality where we stop looking at those bodies that cross the
multifaceted borders and get crossed and entrenched by them, but on the
contrary we start interrogating and shouting at the contexts and the
frameworks that construct them and render them invisible, natural and
powerful.</p>
<h3 id="s-i-d-e-n-o-t-e-s">s i d e n o t e s</h3>
<ol type="1">
<li>I live somewhere in the margins of scattered references, footnotes,
citations, examinations embracing the inconvenience of talking back to
myself, to the reader and to all those people whose ideas gave soul to
the text. I shelter in the borderlands of the pages my fragmented
thoughts, flying words, introspections, voices. Enlightenment and
inspiration given by the text “Dear Science” written by Katherine
McKittrick.</li>
<li>I use the word borderland to refer to Greece as a (mostly) transit
zone in the migrants and refugees route towards Europe.</li>
<li>I perceive auto-ethnography as a way to place myself, my lived
experiences, my identities, reflections in the (artistic) research and
talk through them about structures and within the structures of social,
cultural, political frameworks.</li>
<li>“Passports still function as a technology to control movement.
Technologies like RFID chips and face recognition are part of a control
system for digital state surveillance. Designing a passport is relative
to design a surveillance tool. The analysis of passport designs rarely
looks at the social consequences of identification, control, and
restriction of movement, which can have violent consequences.” (Ruben
Pater, 2021)</li>
<li>Working title of the project</li>
<li>For further reading:
https://wearesolomon.com/mag/focus-area/migration/how-the-aegean-islands-became-a-warehouse-of-souls/</li>
<li>One of the tactics for regulating or preventing the so-called
unproductive hospitality is border control checks. According to the
website of the Ministry of Defense of the Netherlands, “the Royal
Netherlands Marechaussee (RNLM) combats cross-border crime and makes an
important contribution to national security. Checks are still performed
at the external borders of the Schengen area. In the Netherlands, this
means guarding the European external border at airports and seaports,
and along the coast. By participating in Frontex, the European border
control agency, the RNLM makes an important contribution to the control
of Europes external borders in other EU member states. There is one
single EU external border.” (Border Controls, 2017)</li>
<li>I would like to refer to the practice of Harragas introduced by my
friend Rabab as a counter-act of dealing or breaking or burning the
multilayered borders. The burners or Harragas is a term alluding to the
migrants practice of burning their identity papers and personal
documents in order to prevent identification by authorities in Europe.
Crucially this moving out is in defiance of the bureaucratic rules and
their elaborate visa systems. Those who engage in harraga, burn
borders to enter European territories. “They do not, however, burn the
bridges to the people and places they depart from. To these, they keep
all kinds of links. For, as they burn borders, they dont move away from
their place of origin. Harraga is about expanding living space”
(Mcharek, 2020).</li>
<li>This is a transcribed recording of my phone during a protest on
migration at Dam Square in Amsterdam. I insert part of the speech of a
Palestinian woman addressing the matter of undocumentedness. Date and
time of the recording 18th of June 2023, 15:05.</li>
<li>“*” means undecipherable</li>
<li>Immigratie- en Naturalisatiedienst - Dutch Immigration and
Naturalisation Service</li>
<li>I am referring to the desirable potential destinations of migrants
and refugees corresponding mainly to Global North countries.</li>
<li>In this text they insert the concept of the “coloniality of asylum”
introduced by Picozza, which talks about how asylum systems are
intertwined with colonial legacies and power dynamics. These systems are
often colonial structures reinforcing hierarchies between nations and
reproducing patterns of domination and oppression. In this framework,
asylum is not just about offering protection but also about regulating
and managing populations in a way that reflects colonial
relationships.</li>
<li>“To keep the Residence Permit, some non-European students need to
visit the Dutch Public Health Authority (GGD) after they arrived in the
Netherlands. They will undergo a medical test for tuberculosis (TB).
This is a requirement from the IND (Dutch Immigration Office)”.
(Introduction days, 2021)</li>
<li>I am referring to those people subjecting others to bureaucratic
circles shaped by structurally violent situations as well as people in
positions of privilege who deliberately ignore these facts.</li>
<li>I imagine the theatrical play as a “human microphone”, a low-tech
amplification device. A group of people performs the bureaucratic
scenario in chorus, out loud, in the corridor of the schools building,
in the main hall, at the square right across, outside of the
municipality building. The term is borrowed from the protests of the
Occupy Wall Street Movement in 2011. People were gathered around the
speaker repeating what the speaker was saying in order to ensure that
everyone could hear the announcements during large assemblies. Human
bodies became a hack in order to replace the forbidden technology. In
New York it is required to ask for permission from authorities to use
“amplified sound” in public space.</li>
<li>Community Library in Rotterdam West</li>
<li>I was thinking of queues as a spatial oppressive tool used often by
(bureaucratic) authorities. The naturalized image of bodies-in-a-line
waiting for “something” to happen at “some point” under the public gaze
in an efficiently defined area.</li>
<li>Vosk is an offline open-source speech recognition toolkit</li>
<li>US Immigrant Rights Movement Slogan (Keshavarz, 2016)</li>
</ol>
<hr />
<h3 id="r-e-f-e-r-e-n-c-e-s">r e f e r e n c e s</h3>
<p>Agamben, G. (2000) Means without end: Notes on politics. Minneapolis,
MN: University of Minnesota Press. Anzaldua, G. (1987) Borderlands - la
Frontera: The new mestiza. 2nd ed. San Francisco, CA: Aunt Lute Books.
Austin, J. L. (1975) “lECTURE VII”, in How to do things with words.
Oxford University Press, pp.83-93. Barthes, R. (1983) Fashion system.
Translated by M. Ward and R. Howard. Hill &amp; Wang. Border controls
(2017) Defensie.nl. Available at:
https://english.defensie.nl/topics/border-controls Borelli, C., Poy, A.,
and Rué, A. (2023). “Governing Asylum without Being There: Ghost
Bureaucracy, Outsourcing, and the Unreachability of the State.”
<em>Social Sciences</em>, 12(3), 169. [DOI:
https://doi.org/10.3390/socsci12030169] Butler, J. (1997) Excitable
speech: A politics of the performative. London, England: Routledge.
Cretton, V., Geoffrion, K. (2021). “Bureaucratic Routes to Migration:
Migrants Lived Experience of Paperwork, Clerks and Other Immigration
Intermediaries”, University of Victoria Cunningham, J. (2017),
“Rhetorical Tension in Bureaucratic University”, University of
Cincinnati, Ohio, USA Graeber, D. (2015) The utopia of rules: On
technology, stupidity, and the secret joys of bureaucracy. Brooklyn, NY:
Melville House Publishing Hayles, N. K. (2002) Writing Machines. London,
England: MIT Press. Introduction days (2021) Rotterdam University of
Applied Sciences. Available at:
https://www.rotterdamuas.com/study-information/practical-information/international-introduction-days/Tuberculosis-test/
(Accessed: April 8, 2024). Keshavarz, M. (2016) Design-Politics: An
Inquiry into Passports, Camps and Borders. Malmö University, Faculty of
Culture and Society. Khosravi, S. (2010) “illegal” traveller: An
auto-ethnography of borders. 2010th ed. Basingstoke, England: Palgrave
Macmillan. Khosravi, S. (ed.) (2021) Waiting - A Project in
Conversation. transcript Verlag. Mcharek, A. (2020) “Harraga: Burning
borders, navigating colonialism,” The sociological review, 68(2),
pp. 418434. doi: 10.1177/0038026120905491. Malichudis, S. (2020) How
the Aegean islands became a warehouse of souls, Solomon. Available at:
https://wearesolomon.com/mag/focus-area/migration/how-the-aegean-islands-became-a-warehouse-of-souls/
(Accessed: April 7, 2024). McKittrick, K. (2021) Dear science and other
stories. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Mouffe, C. (2008) Art and
Democracy: Art as an Agonistic Internvention. Open:14 Art as a Public
Issue, No.14 (2008), p.4 Pater, R. (2021) Caps lock: How capitalism took
hold of graphic design, and how to escape from it. Amsterdam,
Netherlands: Valiz. Picozza, F. (2021). The coloniality of asylum :
mobility, autonomy and solidarity in the wake of Europes refugee
crisis. London: Rowman &amp; Littlefield Publishers.</p>
</div>
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@ -41,7 +41,7 @@ I cannot bridge it”
How a border is defined? How, as an entity, does it define? How is it performed? I used to think of borders in a material concrete way, coming from a country of the European South that constitutes a rigid, violent border that repulses and kills thousands of migrants and refugees. In the following chapter, I will attempt to explore the terrain of material borders in relation to bureaucracy as another multi-layered filter.
[Front-facing camera at self-counter in LIDL]
![Front-facing camera at self-counter in LIDL]
What constitutes a border? Is it a wall, a line, a fence, a machine, a door, an armed body or a wound on the land? When somebody crosses a border are they consciously aware of the act of crossing? I am crossing the pedestrian street and walking on the white stripes to reach the pedestrian route right across. Are the white stripes a border or a territory to be crossed to reach another situation? Does the way I perform my walking when I step onto the white stripes change? Is there any embodied knowledge about what could be classified as border? Under which circumstances does this knowledge become canonical? I hop over a fence that separates one garden from another. What if instead of assuming that the fence is a device or a furniture or a material of enclosure, it is just part of the same land? The process or act of jumping a fence can be itself a moment of segregation and a moment of re-establishing or demonstrating the bordering function of it.

@ -34,9 +34,13 @@ holds hands with the written text Performing the Bureaucratic
Border(line)s which attempts to unleash intuitively a conversation
concerning the entangled relation between material injurious borders and
bureaucracy.</p>
<p>Ada made like a thing called Backplaces. Before that she wrote about
it in a text called <?water bodies>. Its about people on the
internet.</p>
<p>Ada made a project called Backplaces. Its a web play exploring the
relationship between bodies and intimacy, and how people share
vulnerability online. The project consists of three backplaces— digital
spaces for relief from societal discomfort—through three performances:
Solar Sibling, Hermit Fantasy, and Good Pie. Each piece navigates shared
loss, the desire for intimacy, and the merging of the physical and
digital, offering a safe space for introspection and connection.</p>
<p>Wink, is a web platform made by Irmak Susan Erta?, a creative writing
and reading toolkit that enables children to make their own stories or
read the stories they want from the existing library. The text Fair
@ -52,7 +56,7 @@ personal element in each project.</p>
<p>XPUB is the Master of Arts in Fine Art and Design: Experimental
Publishing of the Piet Zwart Institute. XPUB focuses on the acts of
making things public and creating publics in the age of post-digital
networks. XPUB’s interests in publishing are therefore twofold: first,
networks. XPUBs interests in publishing are therefore twofold: first,
publishing as the inquiry and participation into the technological
frameworks, political context and cultural processes through which
things are made public; and second, how these are, or can be, used to

@ -16,9 +16,16 @@
<li><a href="">Special Issues</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<div id="content"><h1 id="title">Wink- A Prototype for Interactive Children's Literature</h1>
<h3 id="grad-project-description">Grad project Description</h3>
<p>Wink is a platform which contains a childrens story I wrote called Bee Within and am making into an interactive experience, in relation to my research. Throughout this year, I hosted three workshop with kids between the ages 6-8 where we read "Bee Within" and played improvisation games around this theme; games including sound, acting, drawing. The main aim is to make the reading experience more fun for children and to make them re-visit the text to read through the multiple narratives in the story. </p>
<div id="content"><h1 id="title">Title</h1>
<p>Wink- A Prototype for Interactive Childrens Literature ### Grad
project Description Wink is a platform which contains a childrens story
I wrote called Bee Within and am making into an interactive experience,
in relation to my research. Throughout this year, I hosted three
workshop with kids between the ages 6-8 where we read “Bee Within” and
played improvisation games around this theme; games including sound,
acting, drawing. The main aim is to make the reading experience more fun
for children and to make them re-visit the text to read through the
multiple narratives in the story.</p>
</div>
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@ -0,0 +1,218 @@
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@ -68,7 +68,12 @@ src="imagename.png" alt="Book recycle bins description" /> <img
src="imagename.png"
alt="Cloud of gards with instructions to be performed into the books" />
<img src="imagename.png" alt="inside page of the final book" /> <img
src="imagename.png" alt="Photo of the book - cover and sleeve" /></p>
src="imagename.png" alt="Photo of the book - cover and sleeve" /> <img
src="imagename.png"
alt="How to play leeszal as a process image to how the cards evolved" />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="image from social practice library about librarying" /> <img
src="imagename.png" alt="map of leeszaal also can be there" /></p>
</div>
</body>
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@ -16,26 +16,47 @@
<li><a href="">Special Issues</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<div id="content"><h1 id="special-issue-19">Special Issue 19</h1>
<h3 id="what-was-the-special-issue">What was the special issue</h3>
<p>Description about si19 goes here</p>
<figure>
<img src="imagename.png" alt="Image Caption" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">Image Caption</figcaption>
</figure>
<div class="full-image">
<figure>
<img src="imagename2.png" alt="Image Caption 2" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">Image Caption 2</figcaption>
</figure>
</div>
<p>Another thing that came out of our first two sessions was the <em>One
Sentence Ritual</em>. Each week for six weeks in a row, we wrote down a
ritual of our own and took turns performing the ritual from the list.
Coffee fortune-telling, hard drive purifications, collective eating,
sound meditations, and talking to worry dolls made us reflect on the
content of the week and our lives.</p>
<p>:::::</p>
<div id="content"><h1 id="console-special-issue-xx">Console: Special Issue XX</h1>
<p>Console is an oracle; an emotional first aid kit that helps you help
yourself. Console invites you to open the box and discover ways of
healing. Console provides shelter for your dreams, memories and worries.
Face the past and encounter your fortune. Console gives you a new
vantage point; a set of rituals and practices that help you cope and
care. Console asks everyday questions that give magical answers.</p>
<p>Special Issue XX was co-published by xpub and Page Not Found, Den
Haag. With guest editors Lídia Pereira ♈and Artemis Gryllaki ♐ we
unraveled games and rituals, mapping the common characteristics and the
differences between games and rituals in relation to ideology and
counter-hegemony. We practiced, performed and annotated rituals,
connected (or not) with our cultural backgrounds while we questioned the
magic circle. We dived into the worlds of text adventure games and
clicking games while drinking coffee. We talked about class, base,
superstructure, (counter)hegemony, ideology and materialism. We
discussed how games and rituals can function as reproductive
technologies of the culture industries. We annotated games, focusing on
the role of ideology and social reproduction. We reinterpreted bits of
the world and created stories from it (modding, fiction, narrative)
focusing on community, interaction, relationships, grief and
healing.</p>
<p><img src="imagename.jpg"
alt="Console box with instruction book, games and ritual objects, produced in an edition of XX." />
<img src="imagename.jpg"
alt="SIXX Licence reading ceremony at Page Not Found. The copyleft licence for this object included (in additional permission 4b) a term specifying the ritual absorption of intellectual property." />
<img src="imagename.jpg"
alt="Screenprinted book cover, from The Upside Down Oracolotto card." />
<img src="imagename.jpg"
alt="Fiction Friction gameplay at Page Not Found" /></p>
<p><img src="imagename.jpg"
alt="Oracolotto readings at Page Not Found." /> <img src="imagename.jpg"
alt="Wheel of Fortune healing exercise at Page Not Found." /> <img
src="imagename.jpg" alt="Holographic Oracle Deck" /> <img
src="imagename.jpg"
alt="Page of book open on something else not mentioned: youtube tarot, fortnite, papa louie?" /></p>
<p><img src="imagename.jpg"
alt="Page of book open on Tetris Fantasies" /> <img src="imagename.jpg"
alt="Nighttime Ritual: Guided meditation from cardboardlamb" /> <img
src="imagename.jpg" alt="Worry Doll" /> <img src="imagename.jpg"
alt="Inscribed quote from Silvia Federici" /></p>
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---
title: Console: Special Issue XX
title: Console Special Issue XX
author: Stephen
---

@ -16,26 +16,94 @@
<li><a href="">Special Issues</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<div id="content"><h1 id="special-issue-19">Special Issue 19</h1>
<h3 id="what-was-the-special-issue">What was the special issue</h3>
<p>Description about si19 goes here</p>
<figure>
<img src="imagename.png" alt="Image Caption" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">Image Caption</figcaption>
</figure>
<div class="full-image">
<figure>
<img src="imagename2.png" alt="Image Caption 2" />
<figcaption aria-hidden="true">Image Caption 2</figcaption>
</figure>
</div>
<p>Another thing that came out of our first two sessions was the <em>One
Sentence Ritual</em>. Each week for six weeks in a row, we wrote down a
ritual of our own and took turns performing the ritual from the list.
Coffee fortune-telling, hard drive purifications, collective eating,
sound meditations, and talking to worry dolls made us reflect on the
content of the week and our lives.</p>
<p>:::::</p>
<div id="content"><p>z— title: tty special issue 21 author: Stephen</p>
<hr />
<h1 id="tty-special-issue-21">TTY: Special Issue 21</h1>
<p>why shd it only make use of the tips of the fingers as contact points
of flowing multi directional creativity. If I invented a word placing
machine, an “expression-scriber,” if you will, then I would have a kind
of instrument into which I could step &amp; sit or sprawl or hang &amp;
use not only my fingers to make words express feelings but elbows, feet,
head, behind, and all the sounds I wanted, screams, grunts, taps,
itches, Id have magnetically recorded, at the same time, &amp;
translated into word or perhaps even the final xpressed thought/feeling
wd not be merely word or sheet, but itself, the xpression, three
dimensional-able to be touched, or tasted or felt, or entered, or heard
or carried like a speaking singing constantly communicating charm. A
typewriter is corny!!</p>
<p>Amiri Baraka, Technology &amp; Ethos,
http://www.soulsista.com/titanic/baraka.html</p>
<p>This issue started from a single technical object: a Model 33
Teletype machine. The teletype is the meeting point between typewriters
and computer interfaces, a first automated translator of letters into
bits. Equipped with a keyboard, a transmitter and a punchcard
read-writer, it is a historical link between early transmission
technology such as the telegraph and the Internet of today. Under the
administration of our kubernētēs, Martino Morandi, each week hosted a
guest contributor who joined us in unfolding the many cultural and
technical layers that we found stratified in such a machine, reading
them as questions to our contemporary involvements with computing and
with networks.</p>
<p>The format of the issue consisted of on an on-going publishing
arrangement, constantly re-considered and escaping definition at every
point in spacetime, a sort of Exquisite Corpse Network. It evaded
naming, location, and explanation; the Briki, the Breadbrick, the Worm
Blob. A plan to release weekly bricks was wattled by a shared
understanding of time into something more complex in structure, less
structured in complexity.</p>
<p>Initially, the weeks caretakers were responsible for collecting
materials from our guest contributions, which included lectures,
collective readings, hands-on exercises, an excursion to the Houweling
Telecom Museum, Rotterdam and another to Constant, Brussels. The
caretakers were responsible for recording audio, editing notes,
transcribing code, taking pictures, and making lunch. Meanwhile the
weeks editors were responsible for coming up with a further step in how
the publishing progressed, by adding new connections and interfaces,
creating languages, plotting strikes and cherishing memories. This mode
of publishing made us develop our own collective understandings of
inter-operation, of networked care and access, backward- and
forward-compatibility, obsolence and futurability.</p>
<p>Teletypewriters ushered in a new mode of inscription of writing: if
the typewriter set up a grid of letters and voids of the same size,
turning the absence of a letter (the space) into a key itself (the
spacebar), the teletypewriter finished it by inscribing the space in the
very same material as all other letters: electrical zeros and ones, that
were to immediately leave the machine. The Teletype Model 33, one of the
most widely produced and distributed text-based terminals in the 1970s,
introduced multiple technological concretizations that are present in
the computers of today as a sort of legacy, such as the qwerty keyboard
with control keys, the ascii character encoding and the TTY terminal
capability. We have created short-circuits that allow us to remember
otherwise technical progress and computational genealogies.</p>
<p>TTY was produced in april-june 2023 as special issue 21 with guest
editor Martino Morandi, and contributors Andrea di Serego Alighieri,
Femke Snelting, Isabelle Sully, Jara Rocha, Roel Roscam Abbing, and
Zoumana Meïté.</p>
<p><img src="imagename.png"
alt="An inscription performance using the TeleType Model 33 and a 40m stairwell." />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="A reading and writing of poetry using pedestrians and vinyl quotes." />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="Gesture Glossary (screenshot or gif? maybe several): how a body language is documented, how it expands, how it is capable of creating or enhancing identities." />
<img src="imagename.png" alt="It would have been better to fuck." />
<img src="imagename.png" alt="maybe an image at the telecom museum" />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="Wiki strike screenshot: embedding hidden comments in a wiki to highlight the invisible labour, to provide comprehensive details about our intentions and the underlying ideas while maintaining the wikis regular functionality." />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="Hey Babe arduino based telephone experience. Callers can listen to love stories, excerpts from conversations at the Houweling Telecom Museum, Rotterdam, parts from the documentary The Phantom of the Operator and a collective reading experience on binary systems, time, worms and pebbles." />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="Ive fallen in love with you and I have no idea what to do about it. Phone cards inviting participation in “Hey Babe”. Someone holding it in the street?" />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="Encoding Convertor: the wacky world of character en-coding." /></p>
<p><img src="imagename.png"
alt="Overlap screenshot (or is there an image from when we were working on it in the MD room?) We have a bag full of planets, stars, our favorite moments, darkest fears, best intentions and worst feelings. Our bag is now in the middle, its ready for you to discover and see the networks of our minds, make knots in the middle or intervene with what we call is a collective memory of few xpubbers." />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="Hexalogue booklet. A conversation for six voices is encoded and documented in a script." />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="Hexalogue reading in Constant, Brussels." /> <img
src="imagename.png" alt="The brick." /></p>
<p><img src="imagename.png" alt="Adas switchboard" /> <img
src="imagename.png" alt="wiki edit inscriptions" /></p>
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z---
title: tty: special issue 21
title: tty special issue 21
author: Stephen
---

@ -0,0 +1,54 @@
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<li><a href="index.html">Home</a></li>
<li><a href="">About</a></li>
<li><a href="">Graduates</a></li>
<li><a href="">Special Issues</a></li>
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<div id="content"><p>Special Issues are publications thrice released by first-year XPUB
Masters students. Each edition focuses on a specific theme or issue.
The themes tie to external events and collaborations. Students and staff
work together to explore these themes, rethinking what a publication can
be. Each edition culminates in a celebratory release party.The
structure, tools, and workflows are reset every trimester. This reset
allows roles to rotate among participants and fosters an adapting
learning environment. It provides a space to experiment beyond
traditional collaborative methods. Our inaugural Special Issue was
number 19, in collaboration with Simon Browne. Garden Leeszaal was a
snapshot of Leeszaal Library through the metaphor of gardening. During
the release, we invited participants to engage with the librarys
discarded books. We pruned, gleaned, and grafted the books using pens,
pen-plotters, scissors, and glue. Then we harvested a book of our
collective work. Garden Leeszaal was an open dialogue. It was a tool for
collective writing, a group-made collage, and an archive. For us, being
a gardener meant caring for the people and books that formed the
library. The following Special Issue was number 20, assisted by Lìdia
Pereira and Artemis Gryllaki. Console was 20 hand-made wooden boxes. It
was an oracle and an emotional first aid kit to help you help yourself.
It invites you to delve into its contents to discover healing methods.
Console offers refuge for dreams, memories, and worries. It guides you
to face the past. You will then meet your fortune and gain a new view
through rituals and practices. It prompts everyday questions with
magical answers, asking: Are you ready to play? Our last special issue
was number 21. TTY was guided by kubernētēs Martino Morandi and weekly
guest collaborators. We started with a Model 33 Teletype machine, the
bridge between typewriters and computer interfaces. Through guest
contributions, we explored the intersection of historical and
contemporary computing. The Special Issue evolved into an ever-changing
“Exquisite Corpse Network” chasing weekly publications. Along the way,
we created gestures, concrete vinyl poetry, phone stories, and much
more.</p>
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<li><a href="">Special Issues</a></li>
</ul>
</nav>
<div id="content"><h1 id="title">Title</h1>
<h3 id="grad-project-description">Grad project Description</h3>
<p>This is where your grad project goes</p>
<div id="content"><h1
id="what-do-graphic-designers-do-all-day-and-why-do-they-do-it-and-what-does-graphic-design-even-mean1">What
do graphic designers do all day and why do they do it and what does
“graphic design” even mean?!????!!1!?</h1>
<p>An investigation into the practices and ideologies of graphic design
in 202324 though practice-led artistic research and ethnographic
methods. I held graphic design in my hands using ethnography, toolmaking
and performance as research methods. I examined how a designer spends
their time in everyday life, this designer, me, as well as you, what are
we doing? What are our worldviews, belief systems, mythologies and
ideologies?</p>
<p><em>What do graphic designers do all day and why do they do it and
what does “graphic design” even mean?!????!!1!?</em> is an assessment of
what the term “graphic design” means to its practitioners today. Through
experimental ethnographic research methods and the development of
reflexive tools, the project highlights and questions the boundaries
that exist around this apparent category. The research focuses on my own
practices as well as other people and groups that identify with “graphic
designer” as a label. The research was both conducted by and shared with
interested parties in the form of the tools themselves, as well as a
series of performances. There is no strict distinction between the
research and its publication. The tools were released in an iterative
cycle throughout the process of the project, and the research is
conducted through the performative use and development of these
tools.</p>
<p>This research is carried out in three intersecting methods:
experimental ethnographic research, reflexive tools, and performative
research. Keylogging, performance of personal work habits, interviews
about the manual work of “immaterial labourers”, and dream analysis are
combined in order to uncover less obvious and less discussed aspects of
what a designer is and does in their daily life, as entry points to
their worldviews, belief systems, mythologies or ideologies. The methods
were developed in an iterative process that reflected on findings from
the previous prototypes. The research took into account its own
publication as part of one process.</p>
<ol type="1">
<li><p>Experimental ethnographic research methods: I documented my own
practices as a graphic designer for nine months. Sometimes based on
technical observations of my interaction with my tools, primarily my
laptop computer and the software on it. I conducted interviews with
designers. I recorded the interviews. I had prompts to open the
discussion such as reading material and weird tools to try with them. I
will carry out auto-ethnographic research using experimental methods
such as mouse tracking and unusual annotation methods. I shared the
results of this research as a series of interactive publications (tools)
with a small but selected audience of people who are involved in these
processes and who would benefit from it.</p></li>
<li><p>Reflexive tools: Software and hardware tools that explore the
boundaries of “graphic design” as a category. For example at the
boundaries between graphic design and other disciplines. At the
boundaries between work and play, or between design and art. These tools
malfunction in order to explore what it even means to be working. The
tools aim to highlight what a graphic designer does by interacting with
their user in ways that the designers standard tools do not (for example
an interface to connect musical instruments to the designers workflow),
or conversely by amplifying how the designer usually interacts with
their tools (for example a keylogger to celebrate and focus on the use
of the keyboard). The tools are digital in nature and involve software
and hardware interventions into the graphic designers work.</p></li>
<li><p>Performative research: I see all the methods above as having a
performative element. For example the ethnographic-slash-performative
act of answering my emails on a large screen in front of an audience,
research which was carried out as part of this project at Leeszaal,
Rotterdam West on November 7th 2023. By showing directly the work
practices of graphic designers to an audience, or their interaction with
the tools mentioned above, I am publishing through performance the daily
activities of designers and my aim is to show these practices without
the conventional lenses they are seen through. To be contrasted for
example with how graphic design is presented on behance.net or in a
bookshop, this performative approach will highlight the mythologies and
practices of the graphic designer.</p></li>
</ol>
<p>I made this to explore why designers make design, based on Clifford
Geertzs ideas of why humans make culture: “to affirm it, defend it,
celebrate it, justify it and just plain bask in it” (Geertz, 1973). This
exploration will also involve less constructive actions like
participating, dissociating, questioning, protesting, destroying and
disregarding. There is a disconnect between the narratives about
“graphic design” and the effects it is known to have on its audiences,
practitioners, and society in more general terms. I am attempting to
“loosen the object” of graphic design (Berlant, 2022), to make the
definition less defined and maybe more useful or easier to engage with.
This shit could be better. Its urgent for the people being exploited by
it, to break the inequalities it serves to maintain, to expose what it
hides, to improve things that are definitely working but not in a good
way. Design can hide and reproduce inequalities in its output and also
dominate workers in its practices. This research starts primarily from
the bodies and actions of the practitioners so will primarily engage
with the effects on and by these bodies.</p>
<p><img src="imagename.png"
alt="The result of a tool that connects musical instruments to a pen plotter, using an arduino module. I created this tool to cross the boundary of “graphic design” as a discipline separate from music." />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="A performative tool that measures the laziness of the designer as they work and graphs it on a pen plotter. The less the designer uses the mouse, the longer a line the pen plotter will draw." />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="A performative autoethnographic research of graphic design practices, in this case answering emails using Googles Gmail service. Leeszaal, Rotterdam West, November 7th 2023" />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="Collective performative dream re-enactment at Piet Zwart Institute, Rotterdam, Netherlands. February 5th 2024." />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="Collective performative dream re-enactment at Art Meets Radical Openness, Linz, Austria. March 11th 2024." />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="Keyboard of things designers have said." /> <img
src="imagename.png"
alt="keylogging research, recording the buttons a graphic designer presses while working" />
<img src="imagename.png"
alt="do you ever dream about work? online research" /></p>
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