In Memory of Soo Catwoman

Soo Catwoman (1954 - 2025)

Photo by Ray Stevenson

 

 

I. 

 

What Roland Barthes felt about the face of Greta Garbo, I feel about the face of Soo Catwoman: it's a pure and perfect object; untouched by time or finger-tips; unmarked by traces of emotion. 

 

It's a face that belongs to art, not to nature, and which has all the cold and expressionless beauty of a mask. An iconic face. A punk fetish object.

 

 

II.  

 

Although she wasn't a member of the Bromley Contingent, Sue Lucas - better known as Soo Catwoman - was a crucial (and much photographed) figure on London's early punk scene and a confidente of the Sex Pistols, at one time sharing a flat with Sid Vicious. 

 

Her distinctive feline image was so powerful that she was even chosen to feature on the front cover of the first (and only) edition of the official Sex Pistols' fanzine, Anarchy in the U. K. and she was widely acknowledged - even by Rotten - as being one of the true creators of punk style. 

 

And so, I was saddened to hear of her passing a few days ago (30 September), aged 70. But, just as Leonardo's Mona Lisa has fascinated people for centuries, I suspect people will be looking at images of Lucas for many years to come. 

 

For whilst the latter may not possess the same enigmatic smile as this Renaissance beauty, she perfectly embodies the character of punk womanhood; combining a defiant and aggressive realism with elements of romance and ambiguity.  

 

And, like la Gioconda, Soo Catwoman fixes the viewer with her gaze and it is this challenging aspect that sometimes provokes a violent response in those who like to look at art works, but don't like art works to look back at them.     

 

Note: for an earlier post on Soo Catwoman - Of Clowns and Catwomen (8 Dec 2016) - please click here. 

 

 

Russ Bestley: 'Turning Revolt Into Style' (2025): Notes on Chapters 3-5

Russ Bestley: Turning Revolt Into Style 

(Manchester University Press, 2025)

 

 

I.

 

It's true that although UK punk began in London, it soon spread elsewhere; that it was neither a uniform nor static phenomenon; that it was "subject to rapid and dramatic change over time, particularly as local scenes sprang up across the country" [a]. 

 

But whereas Bestley, like most other punk scholars, is interested in the way in which "punk's evolutionary diaspora was as much geographical as it was temporal and aesthetic" [103], I have to admit that my own interest tends to begin and end at 430 King's Road. 

 

And whilst I wouldn't dismiss the punk scene as it developed in Leeds, or Manchester, or even Penzance [b] as part of the "'incorporation and containment'" [c] of McLaren's project, I do think that the Sex Pistols were something distinctly different, as recognised by Bernard Brook-Partridge [d].

 

In brief, whether we choose to think of them as the "extreme ideological wing of the Peculiars" [e], or as a group of Dickensian yobs looking to swindle their way to the top of the music industry whence they could shit on their own success, they were not a punk band merely offering us, in Rotten's words, a bit of a twang, a giggle ... [f].           

 

 

II. 

 

Post-punk: an aesthetic and stylistic expansion, which, to be fair, did result in some great records and previously unknown pleasures. 

 

And I'd concede the point that one cannot stay forever at the level of the ruins, like those "sections of the original punk scene ossified around a set of fixed aesthetic conventions" [106]. Ultimately, one has to "build up new little habitats, have new little hopes"[g] and even McLaren and Westwood ditched punk for piracy in 1980 and set off in search of new sounds, new looks, and new adventures.   

 

But, on the other hand, I'm extremely wary of those who think Metal Box is more fun than The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle, or more radical than Your Cassette Pet - and I'm sorry to say that seems to include Bestley, who describes the former as ground-breaking and thrills to the album's dub rhythms and "Lydon's leftfield, poetic lyrics" [105], whilst not once mentioning either of the other two albums.     

 

 

III. 

 

Extreme punk politics: from puritanical anarcho-hippies Crass, to fascist morons Screwdriver - what can one say? 

 

Punk, as I understood it, rejected political asceticism of all varieties; it had no time for "the sad militants, the terrorists of theory, those who would preserve the pure order of politics and political discourse" [h]. 

 

Punk was not apolitical; but it was transpolitical ...

 

 

IV.  

 

"A significant part of the emerging punk aesthetic was driven by enthusiastic followers and amateur producers ..." [124] 

  

Sadly, it seems to me that amateurism is, in this professional era, increasingly looked down upon (with the possible exception being that of amateur porn; the erotic folk art of our digital age). 

 

Which is a pity: for I tend to be of a Greek persuasion and consider the amateur as a virtuous figure; open minded, devoted, and full of passion for their discipline regardless of whether this brings public recognition or generates an income. 

 

Ultimately, as Roland Barthes notes, the true amateur is not defined by inferior knowledge or an imperfect technique, but, rather, by the fact that he does not not identify himself to others in order to impress or intimidate; nor constantly worry about status and reputation. 

 

Also, crucially, the amateur unsettles the distinction between work and play, art and life, which is doubtless why they are feared by those who like to police borders, protect categories, and form professional associations.  

 

Having said that, the fact remains that the "history of punk graphics in the United Kingdom starts [... and I'm tempted to say finishes] with Jamie Reid" [124], whose work for the Sex Pistols captured what they were about with a high degree of skill and style.   

 

Obviously, there were many other design practitioners and graphic artists who emerged at the time of punk and contributed to it. But, other than Winston Smith - who was associated with the American punk band the Dead Kennedy's - and Nick Egan, who worked in partnership with McLaren in the post-Pistols period, I can't think of any whose work ever really excited my interest.  

 

I know a lot of people rave, for example, about Peter Saville's cover for the first Joy Division album (Unknown Pleasures, 1979) and Mike Coles's cover for the eponymous debut album by Killing Joke (1980) [i]. However, whilst they're both vaguely interesting works, neither really means anything to me, whereas Reid's Never Mind the Bollocks cover still makes smile almost 50 years later.    

 

 

V. 

 

Chapter 4 concludes on a slightly depressing note (but true, of course):

 

"Despite the rhetoric of the punk 'revolution', little changed at the major labels [...] The recorded music industry was founded on the core principles of innovation and novelty, at least in relation to identifying new artists that could be moulded and exploited to generate popular appeal. The commercially viable areas of punk and new wave were rapidly absorbed, just like the at-the-time radical music and youth scenes that preceded them." [151]

 

Similarly, while some of the "new breed of punk-inspired graphic designers set themselves apart from the traditional art departments [...] many of the more successful practitioners joined the ranks of the commercial studios as time went on" [151].

 

In brief, never trust a punk [j] and remember - to paraphrase Nietzsche writing in the Genealogy - no one is more corruptible than a graphic artist ... [k]   

 

 

VI. 

 

I think the main takeaway from Bestley's book is that amateurs and professionals need one another and that both types of producer "informed the wider punk aesthetic and reflected common visual conventions that were emerging as the new subculture made a nationwide impact" [154].

 

Those who lack education, skills, and material resources but who still attempt to do things for themselves should not be looked down on. But inverted snobbery aimed at those who are professionally trained and talented and do have access to the very latest technologies [l] is also unwarranted. 

 

 

VII.   

   

Whilst I'm not particularly interested in the "range of processes chosen by punk and post-punk designers for the origination and print reproduction of record sleeves, posters and other visual materials" [155], there are passages in Chapter 5 of Turning Revolt Into Style that caught my attention and in which Bestley's analysis is spot on. 

 

For example, I agree that the reason many punk visual tropes and techniques work so well is because they not only "drew upon a much longer tradition of agitprop art and design" [157], but unfolded within "a new context that extended into mainstream culture resulting in [...] a more powerful impact" [157].

 

In other words, things such as record sleeves, posters, badges, etc., "were not fine art objects to be appreciated by connoisseurs in galleries and exhibitions; they were examples of mass-produced printed ephemera that conveyed a sense of identity and subcultural capital" [157].

 

Of course, today, many of these same objects are in fine art galleries and museums and cultural capital is now big business. 

 

Thus, for example, a copy of the one-off official Sex Pistols newspaper, Anarchy in the U. K., produced by Jamie Reid in collaboration with Sophie Richmond, Ray Stevenson, Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood, and featuring a striking photo of Soo Catwoman on the cover, may have had a cover price of 20p when it was sold on the Anarchy Tour in 1976, but it will now set you back £2000 if you wish to buy it from Peter Harrington in Mayfair: click here. 

 

Cash from chaos, as someone once said ...

 

 

VIII.   

 

Bestley mentions many of the more successful punk fanzines; Sniffin' Glue, Ripped & Torn, Chainsaw, etc. - and several of the fanzines produced outside of London which "reflected the development of scenes well beyond punk's stereotypical epicentre" [172].

 

One that he doesn't mention and won't know of - one that probably only me and one other person in the world remember - was Yourself which was a single photocopied page of A4, printed on both sides, and freely distributed amongst the student body of a small Catholic college which, at that time (1981) was affiliated with the University of Leeds. 

 

The subtitle read: 19 and young - 20 and old (ageism was a defining feature of punk as I remember it back in the day) and the text called for a rejection of all authority, particularly beginning with the letter 'P' (parents, priests, and policemen, for example). 

        

 

IX.

Ultimately, as Bow Wow Wow once informed us, it's T-E-K technology - not punk rock or other forms of subcultural activity - that really brings about fundamental change in society; demolishing patriarchal structures and creating greater degrees of A-U-T autonomy [m]. 

As Bestley notes in his closing remarks to Chapter 5, "changes in the social and technical practices of design blurred the boundaries between amateur and professional production" [178-79]. He continues:

"Changing technologies and the culmination of an ongoing restructuring of the labour market [...] enabled more control along with creative freedom for a new generation of designers ..." [179]

 

 

Notes

 

[a] Russ Bestley, Turning Revolt Into Style: The process and practice of punk graphic design (Manchester University Press, 2025), p. 103. All future page references to this text will be given directly in the post.

 

[b] See Simon Parker's PZ77: A Town a Time A Tribe (Scryfa, 2022), for a nostalgic look back at the punk scene in Penzance in 1977. And for my thoughts on this work, see the post entitled 'Punk History is for Pissing On' (21 Sept 2025): click here. 

      In brief: I don't like it. Bestley seems to approve of punk bands acknowledging their roots and paying homage to their locality and that of their friends, family, and fans; singing about "the issues that affected their local community" [113]. But that kind of folksy provincialism doesn't really appeal to me (not even when it's the Clash singing about West London). 

      In part, the is due to my own intellectual background in schizonomadic philosophy; home is made for coming from, it's not somewhere to idealise (or even dream of going to). Punk, at it's best, is headless and homeless (one might do well to recall the destination of the Sex Pistols bus as well as Poly Styrene's problematising of identity). Remember kids: civic pride is simply a form of micro-nationalism.

 

[c] Gary Clarke, quoted by Russ Bestley in Turning Revolt Into Style, p. 103.

 

[d] Brook-Partridge was a high-profile Tory who served as chairman of the Greater London Council's arts committee (1977-79). He famously described punk rock as "nauseating, disgusting, degrading, ghastly, sleazy,  prurient, voyeuristic and generally nauseating". 

      Singling out the Sex Pistols as the worst of the punk rock groups, Brook-Partridge labelled them as the "antithesis of humankind" and suggested that "the whole world would be vastly improved by their total and utter non-existence". 

      Malcolm so-loved this, that a filmed recording of Brook-Partridge uttering these words was included in The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (dir. Julien Temple, 1980). As far as I recall, no other punk (post-punk, or new wave) band ever solicited such a vitriolic response. Click here to watch on YouTube.

 

[e] Peter York, 'Them', Harpers & Queen (Oct 1976), quoted by Paul Gorman in The Life and Times of Malcolm McLaren (Constable, 2020), p. 329.  

 

[f] Of course, Rotten himself would eventually collaborate with Virgin Records and build himself a long term career in the music business. 

 

[g] D. H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover, ed. Michael Squires (Cambridge University Press, 1993), p. 5. 

 

[h] Michel Foucault, Preface to Deleuze and Guattari's Anti-Oedipus, tran. Robert Hurley, Mark Seem, and Helen R. Lane (The Athlone Press, 1984), p. xii.

 

[i] Bestley discusses Cole's Killing Joke sleeve on p. 141 of Turning Revolt Into Style. 

 

[j] Jamie Reid came to the same conclusion and in 2007 he issued a limited edition giclee print with this title; an ironic inversion of the 'Never Trust a Hippy' slogan from The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle.  

 

[k] See Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morality, III. 25. 

      For Nietzsche, the artist, as a creator, should actively invest and transform the world; not simply represent it by holding up a mirror to the times. Or, failing all else, the artist should be prepared to return the world to its chaotic character and become a great destroyer.

      Unfortunately, Nietzsche was obliged to accept that the becoming-decadent of even our greatest artists is far more likely than their becoming-untimely.  

 

[l] Often, knowledge of and access to new technology was what mostly "separated the professionals from the amateurs, the commissioned from the vernacular" [170]. 

 

[m] I'm quoting from the lyrics to the Bow Wow Wow single 'W.O.R.K (N.O. Nah No My Daddy Don't)', written by Malcolm Mclaren and released on EMI Records (1981). 

 

To read the first post in this series - Notes on the Introduction - click here. 

 

To read the second post in this series - Notes on Chapters 1 & 2 - click here. 

 

To read the fourth and final post in this series - Notes on Chapters 6-8 - click here.  

 

 

Re-entering the Circle of Fragments

Self-portrait used for cover of The Circle of Fragments 

(Blind Cupid Press, 2010)

 

 

I. 

 

The final book I published with Blind Cupid Press in 2010 [1] was a collection of little poems [2] written in the period 2000-09.

 

The title of the work - The Circle of Fragments - and, to some extent, the style of the pieces themselves, was inspired by the following lines written by Roland Barthes: 

 

"To write by fragments: the fragments are then so many stones on the perimeter of a circle: I spread myself around: my whole little universe in crumbs; at the centre, what?" [3]  

 

"The fragment ... implies an immediate delight: it is a fantasy of discourse, a gaping of desire. In the form of the thought-sentence, the germ of the fragment comes to you anywhere: in the café, on the train, talking to a friend ..." [4]  

 

What I wrote in a very short preface to the book is even more true now than then: along with a few broken bones and some shards of shattered glass, these leftover fragments - written between Barcelona and Berlin, Aberdeen and Athens - are pretty much all that remain from this period of my life.  

 

And so, it was amusing to recently re-enter le cercle des fragments and look back at what they captured (and, just as importantly, what they missed or failed to capture).    

 

 

II.

 

Obviously, I cannot reproduce all 112 of the fragments, although readers will find a number of them scattered here and there on Torpedo the Ark if they search the index closely enough (or click on those titles below that conveniently come with a link). 

 

However, I thought it might be instructive to provide a full list of titles [5] in the hope that they will provide a clue of sorts as to the content, theme, mood, and tone of the anthology:

 

Sea-Bitch, German Sea-Cow, Sun-Lizard-Rock, Love Remains the Great Adventure, In the Land of Convalescence, Underground with all the World, Death Chant, Sitges, Post-Coital Disappointment, At the Anchovy Museum (Collioure), Mosquito, Black Holes, The Holy Life, One Should Not Apologise Oneself Out of Existence Simply to Please Her, The Sorrow of an Invisible Man, The Bitterness of a Domesticated Man, The Woman Who Was Jealous of the World, Idiota, At the Funeral of a Domesticated Man, Lolita, In Memory of Anaïs Nin, In Memory of Henry Miller, The Birthday Cake, On the Other Side, Blanes, Song of a Discontented Man, When You Are Dead, In the Bookshop, Yolanda, In Becoming a Subject of the Sun, Lemon Drizzle, The Taormina Virgins, Un relation privilégiée, Phallic Defiance on Ward H2, In Memory of Friedrich Nietzsche, Filthy Love (In Memory of Georges Bataille), Diary Fragment, Hakenkreuz, Her Cunt, Supposing Truth to be a Woman, Life Bleeds, At the Party, Spinster (In Memory of Sylvia Plath), Flightpath, In Memory of Marinetti, Under Erasure, Haecceity, In Memory of the Divine One, The Three Consolations, Baby on the Bus, Aberdeen, Miracle, Tear Drops, Polarity, Confession of a White Widowed Male, Being and Nothingness, The Boring Dead, Little Greek, Flow, Becoming-Flower, Promises Promises, Fucked-Up, Crab-Like, Pa amb Tomaquet, Sandals, Floratopia, Fox, We Do Not Have Souls, September, In This Life, Posthumous Hope, Decree Nisi, Dawn, Image, Thomas, Mark, In Kissing Liberty, Odysseus, With the Coming of the Sun and the Rising of the Moon I Think of Her, Dawn Chorus, Conflicted Morality and Desire, Seven Fragments of Glass: I: Crash! II: In the Confrontation with Glass III: At the Hospital in Athens IV: Poppies V: The Vengeance of Objects VI: On Which Side is Wonderland? VII: I Love Everything That Flows, This is not a Love Song, Love, What She Should Tell Him, Tears, The Danger, Gifts, Self-Sacrifice, The Hired Hand, Snippets, Death Sentence, Lost Crows, We’re a Long Way From Wuthering Heights, Breast Relief for a Dying God, Little Miss Microbe, Reflections on the Abolition of Slavery, Regents Park, Cockroach, Caliban, If the World Were Caring, The Tour Guide, Roses in April, Abandoned, Baby Fingers, Negritude, Rats, Beige, Zurüchgeblieben, Aufklärung.   

 

 

III. 

 

Looking back, I still think many of these little poems sparkle in an amusing manner (even if the world at the time did not agree) and I regard them with similar affection as D. H. Lawrence regarded his own collection of fragments, which he called Pansies.

 

Better, says Lawence, to offer a simple thought which "comes as much from the heart and the genitals as from the head" [6], than present clever ideas and opinions - or didactic statements - dressed up in lyrical form. 

 

And this passage from Lawrence re his book of pensées perfectly expresses how I felt about The Circle of Fragments: 

 

"I do not want to offer this little book as a candidate for eternity in the ranks of immortal literature. It is [...] a book of today, and if it is a book of tomorrow, well and good. But I hope that on the third day, it will have gone to sleep, and become forgotten. Immortal literature dragging itself out to a repetitional eternity can be a great nuisance, and a block to anything fresh." [7] 

      

   

Notes

 

[1] There were seven Blind Cupid Press books published in 2010. The other six titles were:  

 

Whore's Don't Fuck Between the Bedsheets: Fragments from an Illicit Lover's Discourse 

Outside the Gate: Nietzsche's Project of Revaluation Mediated Via the Work of D. H. Lawrence

Visions of Excess and Other Essays

The Treadwell's Papers Volumes I & II: Sex/Magic and Thanatology

The Treadwell's Papers Volumes III & IV: Zoophilia and Reflections Beneath a Black Sun

Erotomania and Other Essays

[2] As will become clear, I primarily think of the pieces as fragments, though often in the past I described them as little poems, even if that's a problematic term both for me and for my critics who insist that they lack the rhythymic language and richness of imagery that defines the art of poetry. Some have suggested that they might, at a push, be called aphorisms, but, again, I'd be weary of using that term; the fragments may be short and observational, but I'm not sure they embody any form of wisdom or truth. 

 

[3] Roland Barthes, Roland Barthes, trans. Richard Howard (Papermac, 1995), pp. 92-93.

 

[4] Ibid., p. 94.  

  

[5] I'm one of those writers to whom titles matter. Indeed, I sometimes dream of the perfect title that would make the text redundant. Probably this is why I was once told that I'm not a serious writer or thinker, but, rather, a sloganeer or a comedian addicted to certain catchphrases and for whom everything is ultimately just a set up for a punchline. 

 

[6] D. H. Lawrence, Introduction to Pansies, Appendix 6, The Poems, Vol. I., ed. Christopher Pollnitz (Cambridge University Press, 2013), p. 663. 

 

[7] D. H. Lawrence, 'Unused Foreword to Pansies, Appendix 7, The Poems, Vol. I ... p. 667.   

 

 

On the Politics of the Skirt and the Rise and Fall of Hemlines

Six young women model six classic skirt lengths 

ranging from micro-mini to maxi

 

 

I. 

 

One of the things that Roland Barthes doesn't like is women wearing trousers: and he's not alone in this; many men prefer to see women in skirts. But it depends on the woman. And it depends on the skirt or slacks in question ... 

 

For some skirts are very ugly, whilst some trousers - such as a classic cut pair of Capri pants as worn by Grace Kelly - are very beautiful. 

 

Indeed, some women look so sexy and stylish in trousers that this is how they are best remembered within the cultural imagination; Greta Garbo, Marlene Dietrich, and Katharine Hepburn are very obvious examples - and who can deny that Sydney Sweeney has great jeans? [1]

 

Here, however, we're going to briefly comment on the rise and fall of hemlines during the last 125 years or so and say a bit about the politics of the skirt. 

 

 

II. 

 

According to the Cole Porter song, in olden days even a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking [2], but now, for better or for worse, most people prefer bare limbs to old hymns [3] and don't want dress codes to be enforced by the morality police (or even the fashion police).  

 

I don't know when exactly the sun set on the olden days, but we should probably mention the introduction of the rainy daisy skirt in the 1890s, which had a significantly raised hemline - as much as six inches off the ground - and would later influence the introduction of ever-shorter skirts in the 20th century [4] (although it should be noted that, up until 1914, most skirts still touched the ground, including the infamous hobble skirt that had its brief fashion moment in the Edwardian period).  

 

Before we continue, it's important to remember that there's no progress in the world of fashion; a short skirt is not an improvement nor an advance on a long one. And fashion is not even a striving after beauty. The logic of fashion - if we may call it such - isn't tied to aesthetic criteria, but to an obsessive desire for novelty, innovation, and constant change as a value in and of itself; there is no goal or ultimate look [5].

 

Thus, what we witness throughout the 20th century is hemlines going up and down like a whore's drawers: fashionable skirts were short in the Roaring Twenties (at or just below the knee, thereby allowing flappers [6] greater freedom of movement on the dance floor); long again in the more austere - but also more sophisticated - 1930s (typically reaching mid-calf) [7]; and shortest of all in the Swinging Sixties, when bright young things favoured the mini-skirt (6" above the knee), although some hippie chicks preferred to wear long flowing bohemian-style maxi skirts as the decade drifted toward and into the 1970s.  

 

 

III.

 

And today, in a post-Covid era; "skirt styles are more varied than ever, reflecting a world of interconnected cultures which can no longer be defined by a single  [...] narrative" [8]. 

 

In other words - and returning to the Cole Porter song - anything goes ...

 

Because of this, some commentators are suggesting that the asymmetric hemline is the defining style of the decade, "while others believe the rise in sheer and lace maxis is emblematic of our increasingly obfuscated society" [9].  

 

As we move into the second quarter of the 21st century perhaps the only thing that can be said for certain is that the skirt "is no longer simply rising or falling with GDP, but splintering and mirroring a world of fragmented economies, aesthetics and identities" [10].

 

In an age of chaos and diversity - when no one really knows what the fuck is going on and no single style dominates - we find skirts of every shape, length, and material appearing side by side on the catwalks and in highstreet stores.  

 

Now, of course, some think this a good thing; either a triumph of individualism and the freedom to wear whatever one wants; or of multiculturalism - the great ideal of the motley-spotted who pride themselves of the fact that they have embraced all peoples and value all customs, beliefs, and outfits equally.     

 

Others, however, of a more Nietzschean bent who don't wish to skirt around the issue, see in this barbarism of tastes and fashions a type of systematic anarchy and the destruction of genuine culture, which requires unity of style in all the expressions of a people - including hemlines.       

  

 

Notes

 

[1] I have written two posts on women in trousers; one discussing the case of Katharine Hepburn (9 May 2018) - click here - and one outlining a brief history of Capri pants (featuring Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn (10 May 2018): click here. 

      And for my tuppence ha'penny's worth on the case of Sydney Sweeney (31 July 2025), click here and/or here (the latter giving a Nietzschean take on the controversial American Eagle campaign featuring Miss Sweeney).  

 

[2] Cole Porter, 'Anything Goes', from his 1934 musical of the same title. Click here to play the version recorded by Sinatra for his 1956 album Songs for Swingin' Lovers (remastered in 1998).   

 

[3] This is an extremely anti-Lawrentian position. For Lawrence not only loved old hymns, but he hated bare arms and legs. 

      See the essay 'Hymns in a Man's Life' (Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, Cambridge University Press, 2004), in which Lawrence writes how the hymns he learned as a child have more value to him than the finest poetry. 

      And see 'A Propos of Lady Chatterley's Lover' (published as one volume with Lady Chatterley's Lover, ed. Michael Squires, Cambridge University Press, 1993) in which he writes disapprovingly of the half-naked women of the 1920s who think it very chic and a sign of their independence to expose their limbs in public, describing it as a form of cynical vulgarity. 

      Ironically, when in the Cole Porter song referred to above he writes of good authors who once knew better words, now only using four-letter words, he is very likely thinking of Lawrence and James Joyce.   

 

[4] A rainy daisy is a style of walking skirt originally designed in the United States for use on wet days and was usually just two or three inches off the ground. The origins of the name are uncertain, but it has been suggested that they were named after the flirtatious fictious figure of Daisy Miller, who features in the short novel of that name by Henry James (1879).  

 

[5] As Lars Svendsen notes: "Fashion does not have any telos, any final purpose, in the sense of striving for a state of perfection [...] The aim of fashion is rather to be potentially endless, that is it creates new forms and constellations ad infinitum." 

      See Fashion: A Philosophy, trans. John Irons (Reaktion Books, 2006), p. 29.

 

[6] For a post written in praise of the flappers (1 January 2016), please click here. 

 

[7] Interestingly, economist George Taylor noted in a 1929 book entitled Significant Post-War Changes in the Full-Fashioned Hosiery Industry, that following an increase in sales of fine silk stockings, skirts got shorter (and, presumably, as skirts got shorter, the demand for fashionable stockings increased still further).

      This contributed to a theory known as the hemline index which posited that the length of a skirt will rise when the economy is booming and fall when the stock market is in trouble - thus helping to explain why skirts were longer in the 1930s, for example.   

      Finally, it might be noted that whilst many economists at the end of the 20th century were sceptical about the so-called hemline index, in 2010, two academics at the Erasmus School of Economics (Marjolein van Baardwijk and Philip Hans Franses) examined data from fashion magazines against measures of GDP from 1921 to 2009 and they found that the hemline lengths were an accurate indicator of economic fluctuation, even if  changing trends in skirt length typically lag three years behind market shifts. 

 

[8-10] 'In History: The evolution of the skirt through the decades', TheIndustry.fashion (16 June 2025): click here. 

      This excellent short piece - which comes with some fantastic photos - also describes skirts in the decades I chose to skip (i.e., the 1980s - 2010s).  

 

 

Disrhythmy: A Tale of Two Mothers

'La subtilité du pouvoir s’opère par la disrythmie ...'

 

 

I. 

 

I was amused by the fact that Roland Barthes was a little shocked by witnessing the following scene:

 

"From my window (December 1, 1976), I see a mother pushing an empty stroller, holding her child by the hand. She walks at her own pace, imperturbably; the child, meanwhile, is being pulled, dragged along, is forced to keep running, like an animal, or one of Sade's victims being whipped. She walks at her own pace, unaware of the fact that her son's rhythm is different. And she's his mother!" [1]   

 

For Barthes, this was a clear abuse of power. 

 

But for me, it brought back happy memories of my own early childhood, when I used to walk to the local shops with my mother, holding her hand, as she hurried down Daventry Road and along Hilldene Avenue, obliging me to to keep up as best I could and adapt my rhythm to hers.

 

Happy days: I didn't in the least feel dehumanised or victimised at the time and, it seems to me now, that it's right for a parent to set the pace; modern mothers are mistaken in thinking it is they who should adapt themselves to their child's rhythm and give in to their every demand; that it's they who should be dragged about. 

 

That's how to spoil a child.

 

 

II. 

    

What didn't amuse me, however, was something I witnessed yesterday when taking a stroll:

 

A mother, holding her daughter by the hand. The young girl dawdling to look with wonder at some large yellow daffodils growing in one of the very few front gardens yet to be concreted over. Suddenly, the woman sharply yanks the child's hand and tells her to hurry up: "We haven't got time to look at some stupid flowers!"   

 

Now that's what I call dysrhythmy and shockingly bad parenting ...   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Roland Barthes, How to Live Together, trans. Kate Briggs, (Columbia University Press, 2012), p. 9.

 

Idiorrhythmy

D. H. Lawrence: untitled ink drawing (1929) [1]

 

I. 

 

In a series of lectures in the academic year 1976-77, French philosopher and critic Roland Barthes explored the idea of how individuals might productively live with others in a manner that preserves the right of each to exist at their own pace and maintain a necessary degree of solitude. 

 

He discussed this in his own singular and imaginative fashion - i.e., as a form of fantasy [2] - in relation to the fascinating concept of idiorrhythmy [3]; a term that first appeared in the early middle ages in connection with certain orders of monks whose members although existing alongside one another in the same space, were free to work and prayer each according to their own specific rhythms  [4].

 

For Barthes, idiorrhythmy thus provides the clue as to how we might live together in a society, but, at the same time, respect the character quirks and behavioural idiosyncrasies of members - no matter how strange, irritating, or offensive we might find these things.

 

It sounds good, but, unfortunately, there's the very real danger that such an ultra-liberal (almost anarchic) model for social coexistence risks fragmentation into a chaos of self-sufficient, self-interested, and self-absorbed egoists, caring for nothing for anyone as they spin contentedly on their own axis. 

 

And whilst I might not fancy being a member of a really tight-knit community in which the interests of the individual are stricty subordinate to those of the collective, neither do I wish to live in a world of atomised individualism. 

 

II. 

 

Sometimes, like Barthes, I imagine myself living somewhere by the sea - or perhaps in the mountains - in a little house, "with two rooms for my own use and two more close by for a few friends" [5], as well as somewhere we might gather with our neighbours for celebration.

 

But then, like Barthes, I quickly snap out of this longing for Rananim [6] and realise that it's ultimately just a "very pure fantasy that glosses over the difficulties that will come to loom like ghosts" [7].

 

Indeed, it's hard enough living at times with just one person and one is obliged to ask: is there such a thing as an idiorrhythmic couple? 

 

Barthes doesn't seem to think so. In any case, he's expressly uninterested in such a model per se, preferring to only talk about couples in the context of wider groups. His main objection is not only that the couple offer a model of domesticated and legitimised desire, but that such a model "blocks any experience of anachoresis" [8]; i.e., it doesn't allow for a vital retreat into one's own peace and quiet [9]. 

 

But surely that depends; not so much on who that person is as a person with their various interests and ideas, but on their impersonal rhythym. 

 

Provided the latter isn't too disruptive of one's own and they don't, like Madonna, insist that you get into the groove in order to prove your love [10] - for this invariably means falling into line with their rhythm - then I can't see the problem with individuals forming a monogamous couple (on the condition that they are separated sometimes and don't become "'stuck together like two jujube lozenges'" [11].   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] This astonishing ink drawing of two nude figures by Lawrence illustrates the unique rhythms of the body and how these individual rhythms interact in a pattern of relationship.

 

[2] In his late work, Barthes loved to use the term fantasy, by which he understood "a resurgence of certain desires, certain images that lurk within you, that want to be identifed by you [...] and often only assume concrete form thanks to a particular word [... that] leads from the fantasy to its investigation".       

      See Roland Barthes, How to Live Together, trans. Kate Briggs (Columbia University Press, 2012), p. 6.  

 

[3] The term idiorrhythmic is a combination of the Greek terms for personal and distinct, ἴδιος (ídios) and rule or rhythym, ῥῠθμός (rhŭthmós). In modern English, it therefore means something like self-regulating, or independent. 

[4] Barthes refers to these loose-knit religious communities as idiorrhythmic clusters. Sadly, they were eventually replaced by cenobitic orders of monks who lived according to a single model; we might say that individual rule and rhythm were replaced by centralised law and order. Or, as Barthes writes: "Power - the subtlety of power - is effected through disrhythmy ..." How to Live Together ... p. 9.    

[5] Roland Barthes, How to Live Together ... p. 7.

 

[6] Rananim was the name for a small utopian community dreamed of by D. H. Lawrence; a place where he, Frieda, and a few friends could escape the modern world and create a more fulfilling way of life founded upon the assumption that members were fundamentally good at heart and shared his vision for mankind.

[7] Roland Barthes, How to Live Together ... p. 7.

 

[8] Ibid., p. 8. 

 

[9] Barthes also claims that the history of modern communes has demonstrated that things quickly fall apart "from the moment that family groups are reestablished - due to the conflict between sexuality and the law". See How to Live Together ... p. 8.  

[10] I'm referring to the track 'Into the Groove' by Madonna, which featured in the film Desperately Seeking Susan  (dir. Susan Seidelman, 1985). Written and produced by Madonna and her then boyfriend Stephen Bray, the song was latter added to the 1985 re-issue of her second studio album, Like a Virgin (Sire Records, 1984). It was a number 1 hit and remains her best-selling single in the UK.     

[11] D. H. Lawrence, Aaron's Rod, ed. Mara Kalnins (Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 91. This is Rawdon Lilly speaking. He continues: "'Everybody ought to stand by themselves, in the first place [...] They can come together, in the second place, if they like. But nothing is any good unless each one stands alone, intrinsically.'" 

 

Musical bonus: 'I Got Rhythm' composed by George Gershwin, with lyrics by Ira Gershwin (1930). Originally sang by Ethel Merman in the stage musical Girl Crazy, it has been recorded on numerous occasions by a variety of artists ever since. Click here for a version by Ella Fitzgerald from 1959. 

In Gentle Praise of the Neutral

Cover of the audio CD MP3 (Seuil, 2002)

 

 

I. 

 

In a recent post, I described the excluded middle as the evil realm of fuzzy logic, dark limpidity, and what Nietzsche terms dangerous knowledge [1].

 

But it's also of course, far less dramatically, the zone of what Roland Barthes termed the Neutral ...

 

 

II. 

 

Le neutre was the title and theme of a lecture course delivered by Barthes at the Collège de France in 1977-78 [2]. He defined the concept as that which bafflles the paradigm, i.e., that which both bewilders and frustrates the system of binary opposition that structures and determines our thinking.  

 

For Barthes, to gently mock the above system and throw a velvet spanner in its works - thereby disrupting its smooth operation - has significant philosophical implications. For opening a gateway to the excluded middle and the possibility of speaking the world differently, also allows one to imagine new ways of relating to others. 

 

Thus, the Neutral has vital ethical and political import, which is why we should embrace Barthes's ideas - drawn from a diverse set of writers and intellectual traditions - on those figures, traits, and twinklings which illustrate or embody the Neutral; such as silence and uncertainty, for example.

 

Better these things, I think, than the arrogant loud conviction of those who would bully with the anti-Neutral blackmail of Either/Or. 

 

I may not always achieve the degree of neutrality [3] in my writing that Barthes dreamed of - I may at times fall back into the kind of violent and assertive language full of judgement and doxa that he loathed - but I do my best on Torpedo the Ark to find a rhetorical form of fiction-theory that avoids imposing its meaning on the reader.

 

  

Notes

 

[1] See the post entitled 'On Traversing the Excluded Middle' (22 Mar 2025): click here. 

      What I'm attempting to do here is further illustrate how the excluded middle might be thought of as a small space for nonpolarised phenomena. 

 

[2] Barthes's lecture course was published in book form as Le Neutre: Cours au Collège de France (1977–1978), ed. and annotated by Thomas Clerc (Seuil/IMEC, 2002). It was published in English as The Neutral, trans. Rosalind Krauss and Denis Hollier (Columbia University Press, 2007). 

 

[3] I use the term neutrality with reservation; for Barthes was keen to stress that the Neutral - or what I'm referring to as the excluded middle - doesn't simply refer to a space of impartiality or indifference, but, rather, to a space for destabilising and experimental activity. The desire for the Neutral is, as Barthes says, born of an intense passion.     

 

 

Readers interested in this topic might like to see a post published on TTA entitled 'Sing if You're Glad to be Grey (On the Desire for the Neutral)' (16 Oct 2015): click here. 

Yabba Dabba Doo! On Writing So As to Pleasure and In Praise of the Laughing Caveman

Betty, Wilma, Barney, and Fred enjoying a good laugh

The Flintstones (Hanna-Barbera Productions, 1960-66) 

 

 

A question I am often asked is: Why write?

 

I suppose I could answer as many other writers have answered and suggest it's to stave off death; i.e., one writes so as not to die [1].

However, as a nihilist who subscribes to the Nietzschean view that life is merely a very rare and unusual way of being dead [2], I've no reason to postpone a joyous return to the inanimate; a reconciliation with what is actual [3].    

So, why write, then?

 

Well, as a Barthesian, I remain keen to affirm the pleasure of the text and the posts assembled here - even those which are more readerly than writerly in character [4] - are intended to afford torpedophiles some degree of enjoyment by introducing an element of fun [5] in the field of critical blogging (a field that is all too often determined by those whose practice of writing is weighed down by the spirit of gravity). 

For fun is not only a crucial component of playfulness (i.e., hedonic engagement with the world), but it can also help one avoid what Wilde terms humanity's original sin, i.e., self-seriousness: If only the caveman had known how to laugh ... [6]  

 

Notes

 

[1] Writers - particularly poets and some philosophers - often overestimate the power of language. Unfortunately, whilst sticks and stones may certainly break our bones, I'm not convinced that words can ever save us. See the post 'Writing So As Not to Die' (27 Feb 2025): click here.

[2] See Nietzsche, The Gay Science, Book III, section 109. 

[3] See Nietzsche, Kritische Studienausgabe, Volume 9, 11 [70].

[4] Writing in Le plaisir du texte (1973), Barthes makes a distinction between two types of text; those that are readerly (lisible) and those that are writerly (scriptible). 

      The first, provides the kind of reassuring pleasure (plaisir) that doesn't challenge the reader's subjective consistency; whilst the second type of text induces a state of bliss (jouissance), which allows the reader to lose or step outside the self. Obviously, Barthes values the latter over the former, but he concedes that even the most readerly of text can still give some satisfaction, even if it doesn't make you cum in your pants and cause literary codes to explode.

      See the two-part post entitled 'Postmodern Approaches to Literature (3)', published on TTA on 2 August 2016 where I explore all of the above at some length. Click here for part 1; or here, to leap straight to part 2. 

 

[5] See the post written in defence of fun published on 3 June 2024: click here.

[6]  I've always loved this line from Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray (1890), even if the evolutionary origin of laughter - which can be traced back millions of years to our great ape ancestors - appears to be rooted more in survival and the formation of vital social bonds than merely enjoyment. 

      See Jordan Raine's article on this topic on the conversation.com (13 April, 2016): click here. 

Philosophy on the Catwalk: In Praise of an Exterminating Angel Dressed in Lambskin

Model wearing an Emilio Parka and Ezio Trousers by Loro Piana

loropiana.com [1]

 

It takes a lot of courage to sail gaily, in super-soft shearling, 

right in the teeth of dreary convention. [2]

 

 

Nobody denies that we wear clothes for three very obvious reasons: firstly, to cover up our nakedness; secondly, to protect us from the elements and, thirdly, for purposes of ornamentation. 

 

But these aren't the only reasons and only those with very practical minds who always wear sensible shoes and keep their spending in line with their income, would fail to appreciate that dressing up is "an act of meaning beyond modesty, ornamentation, and protection" [3]. 

 

In other words, wearing clothes is a signifying activity and that's where its importance and real interest lies - particularly when the clothes in question are haute couture, rather than merely mass produced and ready-to-wear [4].

 

For within the world of high-end fashion, the frenzied play of signifiers is taken to the extreme; i.e., to the point of enchantment at which systems of reference begin to break down. In this manner, writes Baudrillard, the very logic of the commodity is abolished and there is "no longer any determinacy internal to the signs of fashion, hence they become free to commute and permutate without limit" [5]. 

 

This rupture of referential reason goes beyond the collapse of all values into the market and the sphere of commodities. When fashion becomes an art, then it transports us into another world entirely; one in which nihilism is consummated and we become (as Nietzsche would say) like the ancient Greeks; i.e., superficial out of profundity and full of the courage to remain at the surface, the fold, the skin; to adore appearance and believe in forms [6].    

 

Those who fail to appreciate this - who don't enjoy the absurdity of fashion; the frivolity and immorality "which at times gives fashion its subversive force (in totalitarian, puritan or archaic contexts)" [7] - will never understand why a young flâneur strolling through Soho in an outrageously expensive outfit made of shearling possesses the beauty an exterminating angel ...

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Loro Piana is an Italian luxury fashion brand, founded in 1924 by Pietro Loro Piana, and based in Milan. Initially known for its cashmere, vicuña, linen, and merino fabrics, the company has expanded to design knitwear, leather goods, footwear, fragrance and related accessories. Since 2013, the company has been majority-owned by Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton (LVMH), the French multinational fashion conglomerate.

      If any wealthy readers fancy sending me the money, I will happily make the outfit pictured here my winter look for 2024/25. The hay-coloured Emilio Parka, crafted from shearling, costs £10,755; whilst the matching Ezio Trousers, in a creamy cashmere colour but also made from finest lambskin, are priced just over £7,000.        

 

[2] I'm paraphrasing a line by D. H. Lawrence, in 'Red Trousers' (1928). See his Late Essays and Articles, ed. James T. Boulton, (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 138.

 

[3] Roland Barthes, 'Fashion and the Social Sciences', in The Language of Fashion, trans. Andy Stafford, ed. Andy Stafford and Michael Carter, (Berg, 2006), p. 97.

 

[4] I'm using the term haute couture in a broader contemporary sense, rather than with its strict 19th-century French definition; i.e., to refer to exclusive creations by the world's leading designers, made with high-quality, rare fabrics and crafted with meticulous attention to detail by skilled artisans, but not necessarily made to order by private clients or stamped with the official seal of the Paris Chamber of Commerce.

 

[5] Jean Baudrillard, Symbolic Exchange and Death, by Iain Hamilton Grant, (SAGE Publications, 2007), p. 87. 

 

[6] Nietzsche, Preface (4) The Gay Science (1887).  

      We might note that Baudrillard is sceptical about this. For whilst he speaks of the charm and fascination of fashion and welcomes the resurrection of forms, he dismisses fashion's revolution as innocuous and rejects the idea that it recovers the superficiality that Nietzsche discovered in the ancient Greeks: "Fashion is only a simulation of the innocence of becoming, the cycle of appearances is just its recycling." Symbolic Exchange and Death (2007), p. 89.

      In other words, fashion's passion for artifice and for empty signs and cycles - for making the insignificant signify - may be genuine, but it lacks symbolic radicality and only announces the myth of change. 

 

[7] Baudrillard, Symbolic Exchange and Death (2007), p. 94. 

Free the Probe-Heads! Once More into the Uncanny Valley with Daniel Silver

Daniel Silver: Angel Dew (2024)

Statuario Altissimo marble and bronze (172 x 66 x 104 cm)  

frithstreetgallery.com

 

Beyond the face lies an altogether different inhumanity - free the probe-heads!

 

 

I. 

 

One of the things I like about Daniel Silver's Uncanny Valley exhibition at the Frith Street Gallery, is that it has given me a new appreciation for the astonishing beauty of that metamorphic rock formed from limestone or dolomite (and composed of calcite crystals) that the ancient Greeks called mármaros, with reference to its gleaming character, and that we know today as marble. 

 

Previously, I've expressed concerns with this material long-favoured by sculptors keen to work within a Classical tradition; concerns mostly of a political nature to do with marble's high-ranking status within what Barthes terms a hierarchy of substances [a].  

 

But, after seeing Silver's new works up close, it becomes impossible not to admire the grandeur of the marble sourced from an old Italian stone yard - particularly as Silver essentially leaves the rock as quarried, only lightly treating the surface or making sculptural marks upon it. 

 

Even without the bronze heads that sit atop them, one could spend many hours happily contemplating these rocks and their geo-aesthetic qualities.

 

But, talking of the metal alloy heads ...

 

 

II.

I'm pleased that Silver seems to privilege the head over the face; that he leaves the latter inscrutable and unsmiling. Because, like Deleuze and Guattari, I have problems with the face which has long held a privileged and determining place within Western art and Western metaphysics in general [b].

 

We like to think our face is individual and unique. But it isn't: it's essentially a type of social machine that overcodes not just the head, but the entire body, like a monstrous hood, ensuring that any asignifying or non-subjective forces and flows arising from the libidinal chaos of the latter are neutralized in advance. 

 

The smile and all our other familiar facial expressions are merely types of conformity with the dominant reality. If men and women still have a destiny, it is to escape the face, becoming imperceptible. 

 

And how do we do that? 

 

Not by returning to animality, nor even returning to the head prior to facialisation. We find a way, rather, to release what Deleuze and Guattari term têtes chercheuses ...

 

 

III.

 

The primitive head is beautiful but faceless: the modern face is produced "only when the head ceases to be part of the body ..." and is overcoded, as we say above, by the face as social machine in a process "worthy of Doctor Moreau: horrible and magnificent" [c].  

 

But we can't go back: neo-primitivism is not the answer. As Deleuze and Guattari note, renegade westerners will "always be failures at playing African or Indian [...] and no voyage to the South Seas, however arduous, will allow us to [...] lose our face" [188].

 

But perhaps art can help us here: not as an end in itself existing for its own sake, but "as a tool for blazing life lines, in other words, all of those real becomings that are produced only in art, and all those [...] positive deterritorializations that never reterritorialize on art, but instead sweep it away with them toward the realms of the asignifying, asubjective, and faceless" [187].

 

In other words, perhaps art can liberate probe-heads that "dismantle the strata in their wake, break through the walls of significance, pour out of the holes of subjectivity" [190] and steer inhuman forces and flows along lines of creative flight. 

 

 

IV.

 

To be honest, I'm not entirely convinced that Daniel Silver is on board with this project; he's a self-confessed Freudian after all and what we're proposing here is very much anti-Oedipus. Ultimately, I fear there's something a little Allzumenschliches about his vision. 

 

But, you never know: he clearly finds heads fascinating and there's definitely the promise of something vital in his work; something that "exists between the human and non-human, intertwining rocks with bodies, minerals with flesh, embodying multiple temporalities" [d].

 

 

Notes

 

[a] See the post dated 1 December 2012 - Why I Love Mauro Perucchetti's Jelly Baby Family - click here. And see Roland Barthes, 'Plastic', in Mythologies, trans. Annette Lavers (Paladin, 1973), pp. 104-106, where the phrase 'hierarchy of substances' is used.  

[b] See the post dated 13 September 2013 - The Politics of the Face - click here.

[c] Deleuze and Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus, trans. Brian Massumi (The Athlone Press, 1996), p. 170. Future page references to this text will be given directly in the post. 

[d] Paula Zambrano, Curator of Programmes at the Contemporary Art Society, writing in a short piece posted on 6 December 2024: click here. 

Readers might be interested in an earlier post published on Daniel Silver's Uncanny Valley exhibition  - From Victory to Stone (17 Dec 2024): click here. 

 

This post is for Poppy Sebire (Director of the Frith Street Gallery) for kindly sharing her insights into Daniel Silver's artwork.