In Praise of Skipping

Vivienne Westood photographed by Michael Roberts 

for Vogue (August 1987) [1]

 

 

The other day, walking in a westerly direction along Piccadilly, accompanied by one of the country's leading figures in the field of developmental genetics, an attractive and stylish young woman with blonde hair suddenly came skipping past, to the amusement (and bemusement) of onlookers.

 

And when I say skipped, I mean skipped; she wasn't jogging or power walking past us, but literally skipping, like a child, with joy, in a bilateral manner (i.e., with an alternating lead foot). 

 

It's a vision that powerfully affected me - much as Zarathustra was once seduced by the sight of young girls dancing in the woods by moonlight [2]. 

 

My heart stood still with delight to see someone exorcising the spirit of gravity on the streets of London as Big Ben struck noon; someone who instinctively understood the importance of movement and the crucial role that the body plays in what D. H. Lawrence terms the sane revolution:

 

If you make a revolution, make it for fun, 

don't make it in ghastly seriousness, 

don't do it in deadly earnest, 

do it for fun. [3]

 

I may have certain issues with Vivienne Westwood, but I think she would - in her more lighthearted moments at least, when not banging on about climate change or human rights - share this sentiment and actively encourage those wearing her clothes to hop, skip, and jump their way into the future (as she seems to be doing in the above photo by Michael Roberts).  

 

Notes

 

[1] This charming photo of Westwood by Michael Roberts, along with 54 others, can be found in the Vivienne Westwood Style File on the British Vogue website: click here.

 

[2] See Nietzsche, 'The Dance Song', in Thus Spoke Zarathustra.  

 

[3] D. H. Lawrence, 'A Sane Revolution', Pansies (Martin Secker, 1929), p. 108. 

 

 

This post is in memory of my mother, who enjoyed nothing more than skipping along the seafront at Whitley Bay as a child in the 1930s.

 

From Kant's Cave to Nietzsche's Kindergarten (Confessions of a Children's Entertainer)

Me in my role as a punk children's entertainer 

(c.1985)

 

Now watch closely little girl as I prick your red balloon 

with a safety pin ...

 

I. 

 

Last night I gave a short talk to the crowd gathered at Kant's Cave; a monthly meeting organised by Philosophy for All [1] and held in a first floor function room at the the famous Two Chairmen pub, in Wesminster [2].

 

The paper addressed the question of what constitutes dark enlightenment [3], so perhaps not ideal material for "shopkeepers, Christians, cows, females, Englishmen, and other democrats" [4] - or indeed young children. 

Nevertheless, I was delighted to discover that one of the people Zooming into the event was watching it accompanied by her precocious four-year-old son, who was equally fascinated by my public persona and appearance as he was by the contents of the paper itself:  

 

Mummy, why does he talk so fast? Why is he wearing such funny clothes? What's a zombie apocalypse?

 

 

II. 

 

Deleuze says that children are born philosophers or, more exactly, natural Spinozans; by which I think he means they instinctively know how to map real (rather than imaginary) trajectories and experiment with immediate (rather than representational) affects. 

 

That may or may not be the case. 

 

But what is undoubtedly true is that I should never have abandoned (my very short-lived) career as a punk children's entertainer in the mid-1980s, in order to become a failed artist and spectacularly unsuccessful poet-philosopher. 

 

For it seems I have a real knack for amusing little ones (and corrupting young minds in the manner of Socrates), whereas I have strictly limited talents as a grown up intellectual and adult educator. 

 

Not that I'm unhappy about this: for like Nietzsche, I think it is only by remaining a little childlike ourselves that we remain close also to the flowers, the grass, and to butterflies ... [5]

         

 

Notes

 

[1] Founded by Anja Steinbauer in 1998, Philosophy for All is an independent non-profit organisation that welcomes everyone with a love of wisdom - whatever their intellectual background or IQ - to attend its various events; walks, talks, film screenings, etc. Click here to visit the PfA website for full details.

 

[2] The Two Chairman is thought to be the oldest public house in Westminster and is housed in an 18th-century Grade II listed building in a part of Town at one time as notorious for cockfighting as political intrigue.        

 

[3] I published a four-part series of posts on dark enlightenment on Torpedo the Ark in July 2024: click here for part one, on the politics of hate; here for part two, on exiting the present; here for part three, on the zombie apocalypse; and/or here, for part four, on rejecting universalism. These four posts essentially formed the heart of the paper given at Kant's Cave.

[4] Nietzsche, Twilight of the Idols, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Penguin Books, 1990), 'Expeditions of an Untimely Man', 38, p. 102. 

 

[5] See Nietzsche writing in Human, All Too Human, Vol. II, Part 2 ('The Wanderer and His Shadow'), section 51. 

 

 

On the Art of Destruction and the Creative Potential Within Chaos

Agents of Chaos: Messrs. Rotten and Lawrence

 

 

I. 

 

If, like me, you are keen to promote the idea of D. H. Lawrence as a Sex Pistol, then one of his texts that you might discuss in order to lend credence to such a thesis is his introduction to Harry Crosby's volume of poetry Chariot of the Sun [1]. 

 

Entitled 'Chaos in Poetry', this short text develops the idea not merely of creative disorder that Malcolm McLaren and his young punk protégés will later inject into the moribund UK music scene of the mid-1970s, but of chaos as a realm of infinite possibilities and strange becomings [2].  

According to Lawrence, poetry is not merely a matter of words: essentially, it is an act of attention and the attempt to discover a new world within the known world. 

 

But this discovery of a new world involves an act of violence; the slitting of what he terms the Umbrella and by which he refers to all that is erected between ourselves and the sheer intensity of lived experience (our ideals, our conventions, and fixed forms of every description) [3]. 

 

The poet, then, as Lawrence understands them, is also a kind of terrorist; an enemy of human security and comfort. One whose concern is not with safeguarding the Good, the True, and the Beautiful, or merely experimenting with form and technique, but who wishes rather to unleash the inhuman and forever-surging chaos that punks, animals, and flowers all live within [4]. 

 

 

II. 

 

On 12 February 1976, the Sex Pistols were due to play at the famed Soho music venue the Marquee, supporting the pub rock band Eddie & the Hot Rods. 

 

Shortly before the gig took place, they were interviewed by Neil Spencer from the NME and extracts from this accompanied a review of the above performance, including what has since become a famous quote from guitarist Steve Jones: 

 

"Actually, we're not into music. We're into chaos." [5]    

As Bill Grundy later discovered, Jones always did have a nice turn of phrase. However, I think we can safely assume that he'd picked up this particular term - chaos - from Malcolm, as - along with the word ruins - it had a privileged place within McLaren's thinking.

 

For McLaren, as for Nietzsche, one must always retain a little chaos in one's character if one wishes to give birth to a dancing star [6]; and for McLaren, as for Lawrence, an originary chaos is what lies beneath the ruins of culture and its fixed forms erected to keep us safe and secure, though which in the long run cause us to become deadened. 

 

 

III. 

 

In sum: of course we require "a little order to protect us from chaos" [7], as Deleuze and Guattari recognise. 

 

But so too do we need a little chaos to protect us from the monumental dead weight of civilisation. 

 

And so we need our agents of chaos and angels of destruction - whether they come with red beards like D. H. Lawrence, or spiky red hair like Johnny Rotten.   

 

Sous les pavés, la plage!

 

And surely that's not simply a cry for freedom, so much as for the joy that comes when we smash those structures and systems, narratives and networks, that enframe us within a highly-ordered (and boring) world of discipline, convention, and common sense and get back to chaos.  

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Lawrence wrote the introduction in 1928. A revised version was published under the title 'Chaos in Poetry' in the magazine Echanges in December 1929 (the same month in which Crosby committed suicide). Another version was used for the Black Sun Press edition of Chariot of the Sun (1931). 

      The text can be found in D. H. Lawrence, Introductions and Reviews, ed. N. H. Reeve and John Worthen (Cambridge University Press, 2005), pp. 107-116. 

 

[2] I am, of course, indebted to the thinking of Deleuze and Guattari who, in their final work together, argues that philosophy, science, and art all have the essential task of confronting chaos and that each discipline does so in a manner specific to itself as a way of thinking and creating. 

      If philosophy adventures into chaos via a plane of immanence and science via a plane of reference, then art constructs a plane of composition; indeed, this, for Deleuze and Guattari is definitional of art. But by this they refer not merely to technical composition, but an aesthetic composition concerned with sensation. Thus art is a unique way of thinking and of opening a plane within chaos, which, whilst related to science and philosophy, should not be thought of as merely an aestheticisation of these practices. 

      See Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, What Is Philosophy?, trans. Graham Burchell and Hugh Tomlinson (Verso, 1994). And see also my post on this book dated 23 May 2013: click here.   

 

[3] See the post entitled 'On Poetry, Chaos and the Great Umbrella' (10 June 2013): click here.

 

[4] Unfortunately, unlike animals and flowers, even punks can't live within chaos for very long and that is why they soon topple into cliché and become stereotypical; why they parade up and down the King's Road pretending that they are revolutionaries breathing the wild air of chaos, when they are all the while living and dying beneath the Great Umbrella.

 

[5] Neil Spencer's piece in the New Musical Express (21 Feb 1976) was entitled 'Don't look over your shoulder, but the Sex Pistols are coming'. It was reproduced in The Guardian to mark the 30th anniversary of its publication in 2006: click here. 

      Readers will note that no mention is given to the headlining Eddie & the Hot Rods, who had some of their equipment smashed by the Sex Pistols when the night descended (appropriately and not atypically) into chaos (they, the Sex Pistols, were booed off stage and subsequently banned from playing at the Marquee in future).

 

[6] See section 5 of the Prologue to Nietzsche's Thus Spoke Zarathustra. 

 

[7] Deleuze and Guattari, What Is Philosophy?, p. 201.

 

 

For related posts to this one, please click here, here, and 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. 

Homochirality: Reflections on Mirror Life

Above: Harry Worth demonstrating the comic potential of a mirror image in 1962 

Below: an illustration by N. Burgess showing the chemical structure of a naturally occurring 

amino acid with its mirror image, in Science vol. 386, issue 6728 (2024)

 

 

I. 

 

As if we didn't have enough to worry about, a concerned group of senior scientists are now warning of the unprecedented risk to life presented by research into so-called mirror life - i.e., the production of bacteria constructed from mirror images of molecules [1].

II. 

 

Apparently - and this is the first I've head of it [2] - all known life is homochiral and the molecules necessary for life "can exist in two distinct forms, each the mirror image of the other" [3]. 

 

Thus, whilst dexterous DNA is made from nucleotides on the one hand, sinister proteins are made from amino acids on the other. If you artificially reverse this process, you'll still produce life, Jim, but not as we know it [4].

 

 

III. 

 

Unfortunately, it seems that such experimental work could, potentially, put humans, animals, and plants at risk of deadly new infections, spread by synthetic organisms against which there would be no natural immunity. 

 

What's more, beyond causing lethal diseases, "researchers doubt the microbes could be safely contained or kept in check by natural competitors and predators" [5]. And don't think for one moment that present-day antibiotics will come to the rescue ...

 

 

IV.

 

Still, don't let any of this spoil your Christmas. 

 

Try to remember the old nihilist adage that, in the long term - whether mankind chooses to play fatal games with mirror matter, dark matter, or antimatter - nothing matters. The essential truth of the universe is ... extinction [6].   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Concerns are raised in a 299-page report that is discussed in the journal Science, Vol. 386, Issue 6728 (Dec 2024), pp. 1351-1353. Click here to read online. Those who wish to plough through the full report will find it in the digital repository at Stanford: click here.   

 

[2] Despite my never having heard of mirror life until a few days ago, it seems that the possibility of such was already being discussed by Louis Pasteur back in the mid-19th century.

 

[3] Ian Sample, '"Unprecedented risk" to life on Earth: Scientists call for halt on "mirror life" microbe research', in The Guardian (12 December, 2024): click here. 

      

[4] It is unknown whether homochirality emerged before or after life; whether life must have this particular chirality; or indeed whether life needs to be homochiral at all. 

 

[5] Ian Sample ... The Guardian (12 Dec 2024).  

[6] As Nietzsche reminds us, even human knowledge and intelligence is only a passing phenomenon that arose by chance on a planet revolving around an average-sized star in a remote corner of the universe. Eventually, the star will die and so will the clever animal Man. In other words, even mind won't matter in the long run. 

      See Nietzsche, 'On Truth and Lies in a Nonmoral Sense', essay in Philosophy and Truth, ed. and trans. Daniel Breazeale, (Humanities press, International, 1990), p. 79. 

 

 

For a further reflection on mirror life - with reference to the revenge of the mirror people - please click here.

Reflections on Seeing a Magpie

Mick Robertson and Jenny Hanley on set

of the Thames TV show Magpie (c. 1977)

 

 

I. 

 

Whenever I see a magpie, I think of the ornithomantic nursery rhyme which offers a series of binary oppositions in which one term is more highly valued than the other.

Such metaphysical privileging - be it in the field of emotions, biology, or metallurgy - is politically unacceptable to those who reject all forms of hierarchy based upon violence and subordination, but it's also philosophically untenable for those who, like Nietzsche, recognise that joy and sorrow, for example, are related and grow together; that attempting to reduce the latter will also diminish the other.

 

Thus, for Nietzsche, whoever wants the happiness associated with two magpies, must affirm the grief and suffering associated with a single bird [1]. 

 

 

II.

 

But whenever I see a magpie, I also think of the children's TV show of this name that was broadcast on ITV from July 1968 until June 1980, providing a much hipper (and unscripted) alternative to Blue Peter over on the BBC - who wants Valerie Singleton and Peter Purves when you can have Jenny Hanley and Mick Robertson?  

Mick may have been a bit of a hippie and a Brian May lookalike, but he was younger and way cooler than Purves (in my eyes at least). 

 

And as for the English actress Jenny Hanley - who some readers may recall as the Irish Girl in the James Bond movie On Her Majesty's Secret Service (1969), or as Sarah, in the classic Hammer horror Scars of Dracula (1970), or even as Magda, Lord Brett Sinclair's new valet in the final episode of The Persuaders! (1972) - well, she was almost too sexy for a twice-weekly tea-time kids programme and is remembered fondly by many male viewers of a certain age.     

 

Murgatroyd - the show's logo and mascot

 

Notes

 

[1] See The Gay Science I. 12 wherein Niezsche asks his readers to imagine pleasure and its opposite tied together in such a manner whoever desired to have as much happiness as possible must also accept a maximum of suffering. But note, Nietzsche is not arguing that suffering is in some manner justified or vindicated by happiness. Later, in Zarathustra, Nietzsche will absorb this idea into his concept of the eternal recurrence.  

 

For a related post to this one - 'One for Sorrow ...' (18 October, 2023) - please click here.  

 

Just Do It: Notes on Incitement with Reference to the Case of Danvers Vs de Winter

Joan Fontaine as Mrs de Winter and Judith Anderson 

as Mrs Danvers in Hitchcock's Rebecca (1940) [a]

 

 

I. 

 

As a provocateur, I'm naturally interested in the concept of incitement, which is usually seen negatively and in contradistinction to the more seductive-sounding idea of enticement. 

 

Those with a background in the law will be quick to point out that to incite is, in legal terms, to actively encourage another person to commit a criminal act, whether or not that person carries such out. 

 

Interestingly, incitement now seems to be taken more seriously - to be seen as more sinful - than the deed itself [b]. In other words, it's as if thinking and communicating evil thoughts were more grievous than actually doing bad things. After all, sticks and stones may break our bones, but it's hurty words that cause emotional damage.

 

Such moral logic explains the current obsession with so-called hate speech and why some people are now investigated by the police for non-crime hate incidents when actual criminals are being let out of jail early or not being prosecuted at all. 

 

The rationale seems to be if the police intervene before a criminal act has taken place and actual harm caused, then that has to be a good thing. But if in practice that means curtailing free speech and locking people us for what they post online, that's highly debatable.

 

Having said that, speech is a type of action, of course, and I'm not denying that incitement can be malevolent and trolls who encourage others - particularly individuals in a vulnerable state - to serious self-harm or suicide probably deserve to have their speech curtailed (if not to be branked, indeed). 

And that includes Mrs Danvers, the head housekeeper at Manderley and a woman morbidly devoted to the memory of her adored mistress Rebecca ...

 

 

II. 

 

Arguably, the most disturbing scene in Daphne de Maurier's brilliant novel Rebecca comes in chapter eighteen on the morning after the costume ball, when Mrs de Winter decides to confront Mrs Danvers. 

 

At first, the former, having overcome her fear of the latter, has the advantage. But that soon changes, as the angry colour returns to the dead white face of Mrs Danvers and she begins to rant and rave like a mad woman; "her long fingers twisting and tearing the black stuff of her long dress" [c]. 

 

There's nothing Mrs de Winter can do but watch with fascinated horror; the sight of Mrs Danvers dry sobbing with mouth open making her shudder and feel physically ill. Growing increasingly insane, the latter advances towards the former, backing her towards the open window, and gripping her arm. 

 

"'It's you that ought to be lying there in the church crypt [...] It's you who ought to be dead [...]'", she hisses. [276]

 

The young Mrs de Winter recalls and narrates the scene of incitement for us:

 

"She pushed me  towards the open window. I could see the terrace below me grey and indistinct in the white wall of fog. 'Look down there,' she said. 'It's easy, isn't it? Why don't you jump? It wouldn't hurt, not to break your neck. It's a quick, kind way. It's not like drowning. Why don't you try it? Why don't you go?'

      The fog filled the open windows, damp and clammy, it stung my eyes, it clung to my nostrils. I held on to the window-sill with my hands.

      'Don't be afraid,' said Mrs Danvers. 'I won't push you. I won't stand by you. You can jump of your own accord. What's the use of your staying here at Manderley? You're not happy. Mr de Winter doesn't love you. There's not much for you to live for, is there? Why don't you jump now and have done with it? Then you won't be unhappy any more.'" [276]  

       

 

III,

 

That's certainly incitement to suicide; cleverly expressed as a series of rhetorical questions. Fortunately, however, Mrs de Winter doesn't jump (she's not so much saved by the bell as by a flare or rocket sent up by a ship in distress). 

 

And interestingly, not only does she not want to get the rozzers involved and wish to press legal charges against Mrs Danvers, she doesn't even ask her husband to sack her, having decided that the latter has lost her power over her: "Whatever she said or did now it could not matter to me or hurt me. I knew she was my enemy and I did not mind." [327] 

 

I'm not sure if that's Christian forgiveness born of a spirit of love, or if this refusal to take her enemy seriously and not only forgive but forget wrongs done to her is a sign of a more aristocratic nature [d]. Either way, it's admirable and I wish more people were like this in a world in which there is a growing tendency to criminalise conduct in the name of legal moralism. 

 

 

Notes

 

[a] To watch this scene on YouTube, click here.

 

[b] Incitement falls into that category of crimes known as inchoate; i.e., ones that prepare the way for, further, or encourage a crime. Just as one can be convicted of conspiracy, so too can one be convicted of incitement (for example, using words and images to stir up hatred against others that may lead to violence against them). 

      In the UK, incitement was abolished as an offence under the common law of England in 2008, but was replaced with three new statutory offences of encouraging or assisting crime under the Serious Crime Act (2007).

 

[c] Daphne du Maurier, Rebecca (Virago Press, 2003), p. 271. Future page references given in the post are to this edition of the novel. 

 

[d] In the first essay (§10) of his Genealogy of Morals (1887), Nietzsche writes that to be incapable of taking one's enemies seriously for very long is the sign of strong, full natures in whom there is an excess of the power to forget. 

 

 

Marlene Dumas: Mourning Marsyas (2024)

I. 

 

Regular readers will recall that back in April of this year, I went along to the Horse Hospital to view the overtly political artwork of Gee Vaucher and hear what she had to say about her time working with Crass (an anarcho-hippie collective based at Dial House in Essex and masquerading as punks during the period 1977-1984): click here.  

And they might also recall that in September of this year, I visited the Richard Saltoun Gallery, in Mayfair, to view a solo exhibition by Penny Slinger; another British-born artist who likes to combine elements of surrealism with (feminist-informed sexual) politics and another woman now aged in her seventies (at 77, she's just two years younger than Vaucher): click here. 

 

Anyway, completing this trio of septuagenarian female artists is Marlene Dumas (71), whose solo exhibition of sixteen new(ish) works at the Frith Street Gallery - including the large (100 x 30 cm) canvas pictured here entitled Mourning Marsyas - I went to see earlier this week ... [1] 

 

II.

 

For those, like me, whose knowledge of ancient mythology is patchy at best (but who aren't fortunate enough to have the Little Greek on hand to fill in the gaps), Marsyas was the satyr who - skilled as he was on the double pipe (αὐλός) - mistakenly challenged Apollo to a contest to determine who was the best musician. 

 

All-too-predictably, the Muses found in favour of the latter, and Apollo, proving that the only thing worse than a bad loser is a vindictive winner, punished Marsyas by skinning him alive [2].  

 

There are, I suppose, numerous ways we might interpret this story. But Dumas - who was born and grew up in South Africa during apartheid - always likes to side with the victim, be that Christ hanging on his Cross or a dead member of the Red Army Faction.

 

Thus, for Dumas, Apollo is the villain and Marsyas symbolises not hubris, but the right of the individual to freely express themselves artistically. And so she mourns Marsyas and all others who have died in their attempt to challenge those wielding power and authority. 

 

I've seen it suggested that there's a certain tenderness in Dumas's canvas which is missing from the savage beauty of Titian's Flaying Marsyas painted 470 years earlier. And that might be the case: or it might be pity which is on display here, which is an altogether different thing (often confused with compassion) [3]. 

 

It's a shame that Iris Murdoch isn't around to consult on this question [4]. 

 

 

III. 

 

All in all, I like Dumas's paintings; created, according to the gallery press release, 'through a mixture of chance and intention [...] combining very fast and focused actions with reflective pauses'. 

 

What that means is that Dumas often pours paint directly onto the canvas and then goes from there, teasing out a central figure or a face. Sometimes these figures and faces appear in an instant, whilst at other times they require careful consideration [5].

 

Strangely, despite Dumas openly confessing that her works are "'heavy with the weight of a bad conscience, deceased lovers, past failures and present atrocities'" [6], I found the exhibition quite refreshing; perhaps Nietzsche was right after all and cruelty is indeed one of the oldest festive joys of mankind [7].       

 

Apart from the central work after which the exhibition took its name, there were several other works that caught my eye, including a phallic picture consisting of a pair of big black cocks and a smaller canvas commemorating the 69 people killed at a summer camp on the island of Utøya in July 2011 by the Norwegian neo-Nazi Anders Breivik (what this tells us about her and/or me readers can decide).

 

 

Marlene Dumas: Two Gods (2021) Oil on canvas (150 x 140 cm) 

and Utøya (2018-2023) Oil on canvas (40 x 50 cm) 

Photos by Peter Cox courtesy the artist and Frith Street Gallery, London

   

 

Notes

 

[1] Marlene Dumas: Mourning Marsyas opened at the Frith Street Gallery (Golden Square) on 20 September and finishes on 16 November 2024. Full details can be found by clicking here. 

 

[2] For those readers keen to know further details, the story of Marsyas can be found in Book VI (lines 382-400) of Ovid's Metamorphoses: click here for a translation by A. S. Kline (2000) on poetryintranslation.com 

 

[3] Nietzsche famously viewed pity as a dangerous pathological condition that weakens the pitier and degrades the pitied. It is thus a form of practical nihilism disguised as a moral virtue. Compassion, on the other hand, is a feeling with the one who suffers; not a feeling for and is born of a true love for others as well as a love of fate. 

      Readers who wish to know more on this might like to see the essay by Suzanne Obdrzalek, 'On the Contrast between Pity and Compassion in Nietzsche', in Aporia, Vol. 7 ( BYU, 1997), pp. 59-72. It can be downloaded and read as a pdf by clicking here.

 

[4] The Irish-British novelist and philosopher Iris Murdoch was a huge fan of Titian's late masterpiece (painted c. 1570-76), once describing it as the greatest of all works of art in the Western tradition in that it manages to touch on life in all its ambiguity, horror, and misery whilst, at the same time, being a beautiful work that invests the human story with something divine. 

 

[5] It's not surprising to discover that Dumas often refers to the concept of pareidolia when discussing her work; i.e., the psychological phenomenon by which the brain is given to perceive meaningful images (such as faces) in random visual stimuli. I have written on this phenomenon in a post dated 4 June 2015: click here. 

 

[6] Dumas writing in an introductory essay to the Mourning Marsyas exhibition and cited by Adrian Searle in his interview with her in The Guardian (23 September 2023): click here. 

 

[7] See Nietzsche, Morgenröthe (1881), I. 18. Translated into English by R. J. Hollingdale as Daybreak (Cambridge University Press, 1982).  

 

Marlene Dumas

marlenedumas.nl 

frithstreetgallery.com

And Then This: More Random Thoughts on Samuel Beckett

Stephen Alexander: God Save Samuel Beckett (2024) 

(à la Jamie Reid) [1]

 

 

There are many reasons other than his dark humour and finely crafted words to admire the esteemed Irish writer Samuel Beckett; not least of all the fact that he was stylish, courageous, and free from the spirit of revenge ... 

 

 

Samuel Beckett: Style Icon 

 

With the possible exception of Albert Camus, Sam Beckett was the best-looking of all those twentieth-century intellectuals troubled by questions of nihilism, absurdism, and existentialism. 

 

Already as a sports mad teen, he'd adopted the classic sharp haircut that he was to favour for the rest of his life. I'm not quite sure whether we should refer to his Barnet as coiffed or quiffed, but, either way, it's inspired generations of stylish young men ever since (although as one commentator notes, a thick head of hair is a prerequisite if you really want to achieve the look) [2].  

 

And then there are the glasses: once Beckett found a small, round, steel-rimmed pair of specs that perfectly suited his face and signalled his fierce intelligence, he again stuck with them for life.

 

As for his clothes, Beckett initially liked to wear suits that appeared just a little too tight and ill-fitting, but he eventually settled for a look featuring a simple pair of slacks worn with a turtleneck sweater and a sports jacket. Beckett also had a penchant for raincoats, French berets, and soft suede shoes: "In fact, such was the staying power of this particular ensemble that to this day Beckett continues to be cited as a paragon of uniform dressing." [3]        

 

Ultimately, despite claiming he had no interest in fashion, Beckett was something of a dandy who understood the importance of style and who blurred the line between smart casual and shabby chic. He may have picked up some pieces from the local charity shop, but he matched them with expensive silk scarves and famously liked to be seen carrying a Gucci shoulder bag in the 1970s. 

 

 

Samuel Becket: Hero of the Resistance

 

Unlike that cowardly toad Jean-Paul Sartre - who basically sat out the German Occupation of France during the Second World War and whose role in La Résistance was, at best, what might be described as modest rather than fully engaged - Beckett, a resident of Paris for most of his adult life, was an active member of the Resistance (working as a courier) and he was awarded the Croix de Guerre in March 1945 by General Charles de Gaulle [4]. 

 

It has to be remembered that, as an Irishman, Beckett could have easily returned to Dublin from Paris when the Germans invaded in 1941. But he didn't. He stayed. And he joined the Resistance, frequently risking arrest by the Gestapo. After his unit was betrayed in August 1942, Beckett was forced to flee to the South of France, seeking refuge in the small village of Rousillion. Here, he worked on a farm, but still took part in operations against the German forces when called upon to do so.

 

After the Germans were defeated and France was liberated, Beckett returned to Paris. After the War, he rarely spoke of his experiences and would often downplay his role in the Resistance (again, cf. Sartre), describing his activities as no more than boy scout stuff. 

 

Samuel Beckett: Overcoming the Spirit of Revenge

 

In January 1938, Beckett was almost fatally stabbed when he refused the services of a notorious Parisian pimp who went by the (slightly ironic) name of Prudent. 

 

After recovering in a private hospital room - generously paid for by his former mentor James Joyce - Beckett attended a preliminary court hearing at which he asked his assailant why he had not only pulled a knife on him, but plunged the blade into his chest. 

 

Prudent replied: Je ne sais pas, Monsieur. Je m'excuse. 

 

Taken aback somewhat by Prudent's honesty in admitting that he lacked any explanation for his actions (i.e., any logical motive) - coupled to his well-mannered request for forgiveness - Beckett decided he no longer wished to press charges and the case was dropped. 

This story is open to a very obvious Christian interpretation. Only Beckett, of course, was not a Christian. In fact, according to one commentator: "Christianity is Samuel Beckett's fundamental antagonist: his thought, his aesthetics and his writing cannot be fully understood in isolation from his lifelong struggle with it." [5]

 

Beckett was thus a writer working within the shadow of self-proclaimed anti-Christ Friedrich Nietzsche, rather than the shadow of the Cross (although I'm sure that there are significant differences to be drawn between the two authors) [6].

 

And so I think the tale of Beckett and Prudent the Pimp might best be understood with reference to Nietzsche; a philosopher who wishes to have done with judgement and conceives of revenge as something that should only be found in the souls of venomous spiders, not men. Only a human tarantula who lives in a cave of lies and deals in hidden revengefulness mistakes the latter for justice. 

"'That man may be freed from the bonds of revenge: that is the bridge to my highest hope,'" says Zarathustra [7]. 

 

And it seems that Beckett shares his arachnophobia and mistrusts all in whom the urge to punish is strong.   

 

 

Notes

 

[1] This portrait - done in the style of Jamie Reid's 'God Save ...' series of posters for The Great Rock 'n' Roll Swindle (dir. Julien Temple and starring the Sex Pistols, 1980), features a teenaged Sam Beckett in 1920, looking like a punky link between Arthur Rimbaud and Shane MacGowan.

 

[2] See Jane Hardy, 'Stand aside, David Beckham - now Samuel Beckett is turning heads', in the Belfast Telegraph (6 July, 2012): click here. 

 

[3] Theo Coetzer, 'Bibliophile Style: Samuel Beckett', on the menswear blog Habilitate (17 April, 2023): click here. 

      As Coetzer rightly goes on to point out: "The ostensible disregard for appearance implied by wearing the same thing day after day can arguably be rooted in precisely the opposite impulse - a careful consideration, in other words, of what one looks like and the desire to control the messaging of one's clothing."

 

[4] The Croix de Guerre is a French military decoration, created in 1915, and commonly awarded to  foreign fighters allied to France who distinguish themselves by acts of heroism. Like Beckett, the American-born singer, dancer, and actress Josephine Baker was also awarded this medal for her wartime efforts with the Resistance - not something that Simone de Beauvoir could ever boast of. 

      Baker and Beckett were also both awared the Médaille de la Résistance by the French government for their efforts in fighting the German occupation. 

 

[5] Erik Tonning, 'Samuel Beckett, Modernism and Christianity', chapter in Modernism and Christianity (Palgrave Macmillan, 2014), pp. 104-123. Lines quoted are on p. 104. 

 

[6] Richard Marshall explores the complexity of the Nietzsche-Beckett relationship in his essay 'Beckett the Nietzschean Hedonist' in 3:AM Magazine (21 April 2013): click here to read online. 

 

[7] Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Penguin Books, 1969), p. 123.    

 

Click here to read what is effectively part one of this post: And Then What: Random Thoughts on Samuel Beckett (09 October 2024).  

On Subcultural Barbarism

Photo of Soo Catwoman by Ray Stevenson (1976)

The slogan is a paraphrase of a sentence written by Walter Benjamin [1] 

 

"Why do we fear and hate a possible reversion to barbarism? 

Because it would make people unhappier than they are? 

Oh no! The barbarians of every age were happier: let us not deceive ourselves!" - Nietzsche [2]

 

 

I. 

 

What constitutes a subculture?

 

I suppose, sociologically speaking, a subculture might be defined as a group of people who identify in terms of their shared tastes, values, interests, and practices whilst, at the same time, differentiating themselves to a greater or lesser degree from the dominant culture and its norms [3].

 

In other words, individuals form or join subcultures because they wish to develop an alternative lifestyle, but not necessarily one that calls for revolution or involves dropping out of society altogether. Such individuals may like to deviate from the straight and narrow, but they acknowledge the existence of a path and in as much as they offer resistance to cultural hegemony it's mostly of a symbolic nature.

 

 

II. 

 

In 1985, the French sociologist Michel Maffesoli transformed much of the thinking on subcultures by introducing the idea of neotribalism; a term that gained widespread currency after the publication of his book Le Temps des tribus three years later [4].

 

According to Maffesoli, the conventional approaches to understanding solidarity and society are no longer tenable. He contends that as modern mass culture and its institutions disintegrates, social existence is increasingly conducted through fragmented tribal groupings, informally organised around ideas, sounds, looks, and patterns of consumption.

 

He refers to punk rockers as an example of such a postmodern tribe and, interestingly, suggests that through generating chaos within wider culture they help revitalise the latter in a Dionysian manner [5]. 

 

Maffesoli, of course, is not without his critics and his work is often branded as controversial. However, I think we might relate his thinking on culture, modernity, and tribalism to Nietzsche's philosophy; in particular Nietzsche's longing for new barbarians who might prevent the ossification of culture ...    

 

III. 

 

Anyone who knows anything about Nietzsche knows that he loves Kultur - understood by him as the supreme way of stylising chaos in such a manner that man's highest form of agency (individual sovereignty) is made possible. 

 

In other words, culture is not that which simply allows us to be and does more than merely preserve old identities. Rather, it allows us to become singular, like stars, via a dynamic process of self-overcoming. 

 

Unfortunately, the powers which drive civilisation outweigh the forces of culture to such an extent that history appears to Nietzsche as the process via which the former take possession of the latter or divert them in its favour. 

 

Thus, there's not merely an abysmal antagonism between culture and civilisation [6]; the latter, in Nietzsche's view, co-opts and exploits the more spiritual qualities possessed by a people which have developed organically from within the conditions of their existence. 

 

This becoming-reactive of culture is, as Deleuze reminds us, the source of Nietzsche's greatest disappointment; things begin Greek and end up German as human vitality and creativity becomes overcoded by the coordinating power of the modern state. 

 

So ... what can be done to prevent this or to release the forces of culture once more? How do we free life wherever it is encased within a fixed form? In The Birth of Tragedy (1872), Nietzsche famously calls for a cultural revolution, only to quickly realise that this ain't gonna happen. 

 

And so Nietzsche changes tack and instead of pinning his hopes on an alliance between artists and philosophers to save the day, he invokes a breed of new barbarians who, via subcultural activity, cast off the horny covering of civilisation so that new growth becomes possible and who, when confronted with the ways in which the dominant social order breaks down, "make no attempt at recodification" [7]. 

 

Of course, the question that arises is where will these new barbarians come from. This was a question that troubled D. H. Lawrence as well as Nietzsche, for both recogised that despite the modern world being very full of people there were no longer "any great reservoirs of energetic barbaric life" [8] existing outside the gate.

 

And so, we will need our barbarians to come from within - although not from the depths, so much as from the heights. For Nietzsche's new barbarians are not merely iconoclasts driven by a will to destruction, rather, they're cynics and experimenters; "a species of conquering and ruling natures in search of material to mold" [9] who embody a "union of spiritual superiority with well-being and excess of strength" [10]. 

 

The question of culture and subcultural barbarism is badly conceived if considered only in terms of 'Anarchy in the UK' (and I say that as a sex pistol): what's required is what Adam Ant would term a wild nobility.

 

 

IV.

 

To believe in the ruins, doesn't mean that one wishes to stay forever among the ruins; a permanently established barbarism would simply be another oppressive system of philistine stupidity. Eventually, we have to start to build up new little habitats; cultivating new forms and new ideas upon discord and difference (i.e., stylising chaos).

One of the key roles of the Subcultures Interest Group [11] is to both document and inspire such activity by rediscovering something of the creative energy or potential that lies dormant in the past and projecting such into the future so that we might live yesterday tomorrow (as Malcolm would say) [12].

 

That's not easy: and it's not simply a question of revivalism; it's neither possible nor desirable to go back to an earlier time and mode of existence (despite what the writers of Life on Mars might encourage us to believe) [13]. 

 

It involves, rather, a few brave souls working with knowing mystery for "the resurrection of a new body, a new spirit, a new culture" [14] and accepting back into their lives "all that has hitherto been forbidden, despised, accursed" [15] ... (i.e., becoming-barbarian).    

 

 

Notes

 

[1] This famous sentence from Benjamin's 'Thesis on the Philosophy of History' (1940) actually reads: "There is no document of culture which is not at the same time a document of barbarism." 

      This essay, composed of twenty numbered paragraphs, was first translated into English by Harry Zohn and included in the collection of essays by Benjamin entitled Illuminations, ed. Hanah Arendt (Harcourt, Brace & World, 1968). 

      Alternatively, it can be found under the title 'On the Concept of History' in Vol. 4 of Benjamin's Selected Writings, ed. Howard Eiland and Michael W. Jennings (Harvard University Press, 2003), pp. 389-400. See paragraph VII on p. 392. 

 

[2] Nietzsche, Daybreak, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Cambridge University Press, 1982), V. 429, p. 184.

 

[3] Those whose opposition to or rejection of the mainstream is actually their defining characteristic are probably best described as countercultural militants rather than simply members of a subculture.

 

[4] Le Temps des tribus: le déclin de l'individualisme dans les sociétés de masse was translated into English by Don Smith as The Time of the Tribes: The Decline of Individualism in Mass Society, (SAGE Publications Ltd., 1995). 

[5] In other words, as a polemologist, Maffesoli is attracted to the idea of foundational violence and the vital need for conflict within society. See his 1982 work L’ombre de Dionysos: contribution à une sociologie de l'orgie, trans. into English by Cindy Linse and Mary Kristina Palmquist as The Shadow of Dionysus: A Contribution to the Sociology of the Orgy (State University of New York Press, 1993). 

      Readers might find a post published in February of this year on Sid Vicious of interest, as it explores the Dionysian aspects of the young Sex Pistols' tragic death: click here.  

 

[6] Nietzsche maintained a common opposition within German letters between Kultur and Zivilization, defining the latter in terms of scientific and material progress, whilst insisting the former was invested with a more spiritual quality (Geist). See, for example, note 121 in The Will to Power, trans. Walter Kaufmann and R. J. Hollingdale (Vintage Books, 1968), p. 75.

 

[7] Gilles Deleuze, 'Nomad Thought', in The New Nietzsche, ed. David B. Allison (The MIT Press, 1992), p. 143. 

 

[8] D. H. Lawrence, Fantasia of the Unconscious, ed. Bruce Steele (Cambridge University Press, 2004), p. 189.

 

[9] Nietzsche, The Will to Power ... IV 900, p. 479. 

 

[10] Ibid., IV 899, p. 478. 

      Nietzsche makes several remarks on barbarians and barbarism in his published work, not just in his Nachlass. See, for example, Beyond Good and Evil where he identifies barbarians as culture-founders; "their superiority lay, not in their physical strength, but primarily in their psychical - they were more complete human beings" (9. 257). Translation by R. J. Hollingdale (Penguin Books, 1990), p. 192. 

[11] The Subcultures Interest Group (SIG) is a diverse and informal collective of academics and artists operating out of the University of the Arts London. Established in 2019, they regularly publish a paper - SIG News - which aims to open a window on to the work being undertaken by members of the Group. Click here for further information. For a review of  SIG News 3 on Torpedo the Ark (28 July 2024), click here for part one of the post and/or here for part two  

 

[12] See the post published on Torpedo the Ark dated 10 June 2024: click here.

 

[13] Life on Mars is a British TV series, first broadcast on BBC One (2006-07), devised and written by Matthew Graham, Tony Jordan and Ashley Pharoah, and starring John Simm as Detective Inspector Sam Tyler, who, following a car accident, wakes up to find himself in 1973. See the post published on 2 October 2024 in which I discuss this seductive (but ultimately fatal) fantasy: click here.   

 

[14] Henry Miller, The World of Lawrence: A Passionate Appreciation, ed. Evelyn J. Hinz and John J. Teunissen (John Calder (Publishers) Ltd., 1985), p. 217.  

 

[15] Nietzsche, Ecce Homo, trans. R. J. Hollingdale (Penguin Books, 1988), p. 96.

 

 

With continued gratitude to Keith Ansell-Pearson whose work on Nietzsche helped shaped my own thinking 30 years ago.