Tertiarymatt

THE only time art ever seems to make news here in the West anymore is when a Pollock or Warhol sells for a sum commensurate with the budget of a “Transformers” film. It seems bizarre, then, to find ourselves grappling with international crises in which art is the issue: the imbroglio involving the Sony movie “The Interview,” the massacre at Charlie Hebdo in Paris. The incomprehension, whether bemused or horrified, that we feel toward people who take up arms against the creators of cartoons or comedies is a chastening reminder that there are still cultures in which art is not a harmless diversion or commodity, but something real and volatile, a potential threat to be violently suppressed. These attacks are, in a way, a savage, atavistic show of respect.

I was a cartoonist for The Baltimore City Paper from 1997 to 2009, so I well know what influence a political cartoonist wields in this country. The last time art had any real-world effect on United States politics was about 140 years ago, when Boss Tweed was not only driven from power by Thomas Nast’s caricatures of him but ultimately arrested after he’d fled to Spain, where he was recognized from those same cartoons.

Much as I admire Steve Bell’s caricatures of George W. Bush as a dung-flinging chimpanzee, it’s hard to imagine them landing the former president in The Hague. Most daily editorial cartoonists in the United States produce work about as incisive as a prime-time sitcom, and the rest are consigned to niche markets where they preach to their demographic choirs. I have to wonder whether any of my colleagues felt the same queasy mix of emotions I did on hearing about the assassinations in Paris: beneath the outrage, sorrow and solidarity, a small, irrational twinge of guilt that we’re not doing anything worth shooting us over.

Kurt Vonnegut Jr. likened the cumulative firepower of all the art and literature directed against the Vietnam War to “the explosive force of a very large banana-cream pie — a pie two meters in diameter, 20 centimeters thick, and dropped from a height of 10 meters or more.” A lot of artists in America tend to be self-deprecating futilitarians, because we’ve grown up in a culture in which art doesn’t matter except, occasionally, as a high-end investment. When art has been controversial here it’s most often been because it’s deemed obscene. (Sex is our tawdry Muhammad, the thing that cannot be depicted.) But it’s hard to think of a time in our recent history when art gave any cause for alarm to anyone in power.

It’s a testament to the brittleness and fragility of ideologies like the thuggish cult of North Korea and the more homicidally literalist sects of Islam that they react so violently to art most Westerners regard as silly and trivial: dumb comedies, crude cartoons. North Korea saw “The Interview” as some sort of invidious state-sponsored attack on its revered leader, the cinematic equivalent of a dirty bomb. It was almost endearing; you wanted to explain to them, No, see, in our country, this is stupid art. We weren’t even going to go see it in theaters until you threatened to bomb them; we would’ve waited for it on instant streaming. Some part of the international reaction to the Charlie Hebdo massacre was this same kind of condescending incredulity: Wait, this was about cartoons?

It speaks well of our own relatively flexible system that it can accommodate criticism and dissent without lopping anyone’s hands off. But this is also a backhanded testament to our society’s successful denaturing of satire, and the impotence of art in our own culture. Autocrats from Plato on have advocated control and censorship of the arts to ensure the stability of their states and micromanage their people’s inner lives. In the mature democracies of the West, there’s no longer any need for purges or fatwas or book-burnings. Why waste bullets shooting artists when you can just not pay them? Why bother banning books when nobody reads anyway, and the national literature is so provincial, insular and narcissistic it poses no troublesome questions?

The real Machiavellian genius of the First Amendment is that free speech turns out to be mostly harmless — a lot of P.C. nit-picking, dingbat conspiracy theories, tedious libertarian screeds and name calling. The only “free speech” that has any effect in a stable, well-run plutocracy is the kind protected by Buckley vs. Valeo in the form of campaign contributions.

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American capitalism has its own ingenious system for neutralizing or absorbing dissent: Any art that challenges its fundamental assumptions, its inevitability and rightness, is either ignored, so the artist has to tend bar or learn graphic design, or, if it becomes successful, lavishly rewarded and painlessly welcomed into the system it criticized. As systems of oppression go, this is definitely the one you want to suffer under. Getting paid only 20 bucks a week for my political cartoons was kind of insulting, but at least I wasn’t forced to eat them at gunpoint.

I’m relieved to live in a place where the worst thing I have to worry about is being called names on the Internet. And I don’t mean to romanticize what happened in Paris: It was obscene and stupid and sad. And yet there is also occasion for pride in it, the kind of somber pride any soldier is entitled to feel in a comrade’s sacrifice. It is a reminder that art is not a frivolous diversion, not just a product or “content.” It is still alive and dangerous, and still hated and feared by those most deserving of our mockery.

A lot of people are calling the cartoonists of Charlie Hebdo “heroes,” which it’s hard to imagine happening while they were still alive. (Would Seth Rogen be one if the North Koreans poisoned him?) But if grown-ups are going to use a word as childish as “hero” at all, then I’m afraid we may have to apply it, now and then, not only to those uniformed few who control drones from Langley or Vegas or bust teenagers selling weed on the street but also to silly, irrelevant people like cartoonists.

Last week, we quietly added a few more names to the roll call. And tonight, in the real ceremony, my colleagues and I will salute them with the traditional instruments of our trade — glasses raised around tables in the bars and cafes and tea houses of the civilized world. And, after a few, we’ll do what cartoonists do — make cruel, gleeful fun of Islamic wackos and right-wing bigots, opportunistic politicians and useless cartoonists, absolutely everyone. No one will be spared.

yoannlossel:

[Yoann Lossel] "The Forgotten Gods" - Graphite, Gold leaf and hydrangea petals - 17,3/23” 

"The Forgotten Gods" - Graphite, feuilles d’or et pétales d’hortensias - 44/58cm

Mon hommage à la forêt Primordiale de Bernard Boisson.

My Website :: on Etsy :: on Facebook :: on deviantART

© Yoann Lossel 2013

If you’re ever unlucky enough to find yourself in an argument on Twitter as to the nature of faith and the relative worth of the globe’s various major religions, one refrain you’re quite likely to hear — usually after an overheated reference to the Crusades, but before someone brings up Salman Rushdie — is that there’s something especially wrong with Islam. It’s a common talking point of apologists for certain other religions, but it’s also a favored line of new atheists like Richard Dawkins and Bill Maher, too.

Usually, the conversation at that point will descend into a semantic debate over Islamophobia and whether or not it’s “politically correct” to engage in that time-honored practice of just asking questions. The part that tends to get skipped over, though, is the most important — namely, is the “Muslims are different” theory even true? That’s what Berkeley’s M. Steven Fish tried to find out in his groundbreaking book, “Are Muslims Distinctive?: A Look at the Evidence.” What he found, as you might guess, is that the answer is complicated.

Recently, Salon spoke with Fish over the phone about his research and its possible implications. Our conversation is below and has been edited for clarity and length.

What made you want to look into this question of whether Muslims are distinctive, and in what sense were you looking at it?

Well, you know at the time I started thinking about this project, I realized that there was an awful lot of debate going on in the public arena, and also in academia, about whether Muslims were more violent or not, or whether Muslims had a problem with gender inequality, whether Muslims were more likely to want to fuse religious and political authority. There were all these questions about how Muslims differ from us, or from everybody else. Especially in the West, people were asking these questions — but also in confessionally mixed societies that have large Muslim minorities like India.

by @fobski

 St. Vincent has shared a new song called "Bad Believer", the first song to be unveiled from the deluxe release of her eponymous 2014 record St. Vincent. The forthcoming deluxe edition (out February 9) will feature four new songs and a Darkside remix of "Digital Witness". Listen to "Bad Believer" above, via the Guardian.

As previously reported, the new season of HBO's "Girls" will feature a new song from St. Vincent (and another one from Grimes) called "Teenage Talk", which will close out an episode.

Read our interview with St. Vincent.

Watch St. Vincent's full set from Pitchfork Music Festival Paris:

ericnyquist:

Books are in! Thanks Bloomsbury! #Elizabethkolbert #fieldnotesfromacatastrophe #climatechange

Probably a book I need to buy. And more awesome cover work from mr. nyquist. 

pohnnyworld:

The last thing you want to see in the sky is an error message, especially now that science is 85 percent sure that The Matrix is real. If we’re all living in a computer simulation, we at least want to know that shit isn’t running on freaking Windows 8.

That is, however, an untouched photo of a real sky and a real tree — if you had been standing in that spot, this is what you’d have seen. The photo was taken in Odessa, Ukraine when a digital billboard malfunctioned, projecting a Windows error into the fog and temporarily convincing who knows how many passing motorists that somebody was going to have to go out into space and reboot God.

Amusing, and unexpected.

Seriously, it isn’t complicated. 

freebarrettbrown:

Good afternoon, Your Honor.

The allocution I give today is going to be a bit different from the sort that usually concludes a sentencing hearing, because this is an unusual case touching upon unusual issues. It is also a very public case, not only in the sense that it has been followed closely…

Well worth reading. And a load of shit that he got the sentence the government asked for. 

saving this, for reasons.

I do love me some Hillbilly Jazz, even if I do mostly listen to solemn metal these days.

publiccollectors:

A Critic’s Choice column by Bill Meyer in the Chicago Reader from a 1998 show by Godspeed You Black Emperor! with Low at Schubas in 1998. One thing I remember about this show is that it took me forever to get to the venue because I was stuck driving behind a school bus that was being towed. As it turned out, it was Godspeed You Black Emperor!’s school bus so the show started a bit late. Both bands played great sets but the most noteworthy moment was when Low played the song “Do You Know How to Waltz?” and gradually every member of Godspeed joined them onstage for a rendition that lasted almost a half hour. Happily, someone recorded this and you can hear it on Youtube.

I’ll never make anything as good as that thing.

I’ll never make anything good.

I’ll never make anything.

Never make anything.

dictionaryofobscuresorrows:

opia
n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable—their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque—as if you were peering through a hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there’s someone standing there, but unable to tell if you’re looking in or looking out.

I was getting bored with those “Seen and Heard” post titles, so I changed  it for today — but that’s still what this is: a collection of new songs that I spotted and heard over the last 24 hours and would like to recommend to you. And since it’s Monday, you know what kind of mood I’m talking about.

P.S. This is a holiday in the U.S., and although I still have to work, we won’t have the usual volume of posts today. Hope you enjoy this one, and the next installment of our “Most Infectious” song list, which will be up a bit later.

PYRAMIDS

When I first saw the album cover (above) for the new album by Texas-based Pyramids, I quipped to some friends: “This is what happens when you let monkeys play with a tape dispenser”. I’m still not sure what the photo signifies, but the music is no joke.

The new album is named A Northern Meadow and it’s set for release by Profound Lore on March 17. And on this album the Pyramids line-up is augmented by some notable guests: Vindsval of Blut Aus Nord; Colin Marston of Gorguts, Dysrhythmia, and Krallice; and composer/musician William Fowler Collins. This will be my first exposure to the band’s music (so far as I can remember), but I’m now very eager to hear the album because the first advance track has now premiered.

“I Am So Sorry, Goodbye” is an atmospheric unfolding of dissonant, doomed melodies overlaid with a coating of distortion and undergirded with a grimy, grinding bass. Twisting, contorted guitar leads and very interesting drum beats that aren’t in lock-step with the riffs add to the song’s magnetic appeal. The shimmering guitars at the end come like rays of light through the heavy gray of a threatening sky, only to be snuffed out by the inevitable squall.

Yes, the vocals are high and clean, and thus the song is a well-earned exception to our rule. It’s a potent offering of post-metal joined with other elements, and it’s a fine start to this soundtrack for a blue Monday.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Pyramids/199484580063400

KJELD

Kjeld come to us from the Frisian area of The Netherlands (which includes part of northern Germany as well).  They released a debut EP in 2010 (available on Bandcamp), and their debut album Skym will be released on March 2 by Hammerheart Records (with lyrics in the Frisian language).

Recently a new advance track from the album became available for listening, and it has really grabbed me by the throat. “Tûzen Sinnen” (A Thousand Suns) begins as a stalking dirge and then becomes a flesh-ripping hail of knives, with warping tremolo riffs, furious drum rhythms, and an eerie, atmospheric melody. The piercing guitar leads cast an aura of dark beauty that contrasts with the vocalist’s feral snarls, and the song succeeds wonderfully in mixing rampaging intensity with a sense of triumphant grandeur.

https://www.facebook.com/Kjeldblackmetal
http://www.hammerheart.com
http://www.hammerheartstore.com

DECLINE OF THE I

Unlike the first two bands in this collection, the French band Decline of the I is one whose music I’ve heard before. The band’s principal creative force is the multi-instrumentalist A.K., who has performed in such bands such as Vorkreist, Merrimack, and Malhkebre.

The band’s second album, named Rebellion, will be released by Agonia Records on February 27 in Europe and March 10 in North America and features artwork designed by David Fitt (Aosoth, Secrets of the Moon, Svart Crown). On this album, A.K. is joined by musicians from Merrimack, Anus Mundi, Temple of Baal, Eibon, and Drowning.

Last October I wrote about the first advance track from the album, a song named “Hexenface”, and now a second one has premiered at Zero Tolerance. Like “Hexenface”, “Lower Degree of God’s Might” is really good and quite multi-faceted. It includes bursts of automatic weapons fire in the percussion alternating with metronomic beats; angelic choirs and keyboard ambience; spoken words and acidic shrieks; slow reverberating guitar notes and vibrating dissonance. It’s atmospherically dark, with a melody that I suspect will get stuck in your head, as it did in mine, despite how variable the music is over the song’s changing course.

The album is available for pre-order here.

https://www.facebook.com/declineofthei

These are utterly fabulous. Pretty sure people take selfies now, instead.

Speaking of the ambiguous intensity of eye contact: @claytoncubitt and KT, to cocorosie. I have watched this many times, and still am not sure how to read him.  

sci-universe:

Did you know that in 2011 a bizarre underwater “icicle of death” was filmed by a BBC crew?

They did it using timelapse cameras, under the ice at Little Razorback Island, near Antarctica’s Ross Archipelago.
The icy phenomenon, called a brinicle, is caused by cold, sinking brine, which is more dense than the rest of the sea water. When salt-rich water leaks out of sea ice, it sinks into the sea and can occasionally create an eerie finger of ice. Brinicles are found in both the Arctic and the Antarctic.

The world is so endlessly strange. 

January, 16th

January, 18th

OUR galaxy, the Milky Way, is home to almost 300 billion stars, and over the last decade, astronomers have made a startling discovery — almost all those stars have planets. The fact that nearly every pinprick of light you see in the night sky hosts a family of worlds raises a powerful but simple question: “Where is everybody?” Hundreds of billions of planets translate into a lot of chances for evolving intelligent, technologically sophisticated species. So why don’t we see evidence for E.T.s everywhere?

The physicist Enrico Fermi first formulated this question, now called the Fermi paradox, in 1950. But in the intervening decades, humanity has recognized that our own climb up the ladder of technological sophistication comes with a heavy price. From climate change to resource depletion, our evolution into a globe-spanning industrial culture is forcing us through the narrow bottleneck of a sustainability crisis. In the wake of this realization, new and sobering answers to Fermi’s question now seem possible.

Maybe we’re not the only ones to hit a sustainability bottleneck. Maybe not everyone — maybe no one — makes it to the other side.

Since Fermi’s day, scientists have gained a new perspective on life in its planetary context. From the vantage point of this relatively new field, astrobiology, our current sustainability crisis may be neither politically contingent nor unique, but a natural consequence of laws governing how planets and life of any kind, anywhere, must interact.

The defining feature of a technological civilization is the capacity to intensively “harvest” energy. But the basic physics of energy, heat and work known as thermodynamics tell us that waste, or what we physicists call entropy, must be generated and dumped back into the environment in the process. Human civilization currently harvests around 100 billion megawatt hours of energy each year and dumps 36 billion tons of carbon dioxide into the planetary system, which is why the atmosphere is holding more heat and the oceans are acidifying. As hard as it is for some to believe, we humans are now steering the planet, however poorly.

Can we generalize this kind of planetary hijacking to other worlds? The long history of Earth provides a clue. The oxygen you are breathing right now was not part of our original atmosphere. It was the so-called Great Oxidation Event, two billion years after the formation of the planet, that drove Earth’s atmospheric content of oxygen up by a factor of 10,000. What cosmic force could so drastically change an entire planet’s atmosphere? Nothing more than the respiratory excretions of anaerobic bacteria then dominating our world. The one gas we most need to survive originated as deadly pollution to our planet’s then-leading species: a simple bacterium.

The Great Oxidation Event alone shows that when life (intelligent or otherwise) becomes highly successful, it can dramatically change its host planet. And what is true here is likely to be true on other planets as well.

But can we predict how an alien industrial civilization might alter its world? From a half-century of exploring our own solar system we’ve learned a lot about planets and how they work. We know that Mars was once a habitable world with water rushing across its surface. And Venus, a planet that might have been much like Earth, was instead transformed by a runaway greenhouse effect into a hellish world of 800-degree days.

By studying these nearby planets, we’ve discovered general rules for both climate and climate change. These rules, based in physics and chemistry, must apply to any species, anywhere, taking up energy-harvesting and civilization-building in a big way. For example, any species climbing up the technological ladder by harvesting energy through combustion must alter the chemical makeup of its atmosphere to some degree. Combustion always produces chemical byproducts, and those byproducts can’t just disappear. As astronomers at Penn State recently discovered, if planetary conditions are right (like the size of a planet’s orbit), even relatively small changes in atmospheric chemistry can have significant climate effects. That means that for some civilization-building species, the sustainability crises can hit earlier rather than later.

Even if an intelligent species didn’t rely on combustion early in its development, sustainability issues could still arise. All forms of intensive energy-harvesting will have feedbacks, even if some are more powerful than others. A study by scientists at the Max Planck Institute in Jena, Germany, found that extracting energy from wind power on a huge scale can cause its own global climate consequences. When it comes to building world-girdling civilizations, there are no planetary free lunches.

This realization motivated me, along with Woodruff Sullivan of the University of Washington, to look at sustainability in its astrobiological context. As we describe in a recent paper, using what’s already known about planets and life, it is now possible to create a broad program for modeling co-evolving “trajectories” for technological species and their planets. Depending on initial conditions and choices made by the species (such as the mode of energy harvesting), some trajectories will lead to an unrecoverable sustainability crisis and eventual population collapse. Others, however, may lead to long-lived, sustainable civilizations.

Such research is, however, more than prospecting for scientific curiosities.

One answer to the Fermi paradox is that nobody makes it through — that climate change is fate, that nothing we do today matters because civilization inevitably leads to catastrophic planetary changes. But our models may show that isn’t the case.

By studying sustainability as a generic astrobiological problem, we can understand if the challenge we face will be like threading a needle or crossing a wide valley. Answering this question demands a far deeper understanding of how planets respond to the kind of stresses energy-intensive species (like ours) place on them. It’s an approach no different from that of doctors using different kinds of animals, and their molecular biology, to discover cures for human disease.

With this perspective, we also gain an essential truth. We are one form of life, on one planet, in a universe of countless planets. Through hard-won scientific gains, we’ve begun discovering the patterns and laws governing planets together with the life they host. Ten thousand years from now the Democrats and the Republicans and their squabbles over climate change will be long gone. But the laws of planets and life we’re now revealing won’t have changed. Not on this world or any other.