City, politic, to create, critics (english)

  1. Lexine dit :

    All things considered, this is a first class post

  2. lungren fatty dit :

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  3. blm / new media / new age dit :

    New age media tells us the same since 30 years :

    ” visualise your success”, “accept your success”, “separate your fear from your emotion”, “explore your emotion and go deep into it, even it hurts “, “the reality is an hologram”… “be positive , and the rest will follow”

    I propose an other way to survive: Finding new jobs, moving in other countries, meeting new people, trying, trying, trying.

    Because, this new age stuff about success, emotion, fears, propagates secretely the “obligation of happyness” that rises up since decades in the US. It’s pure bullshit, because it avoids the real built-in architecture of the human brain, based on language. Separating the emotion from your fear, is a language mistake, not a solution.
    The words, here, accentuate your fear (or your love, or anything else). Acceptance, lalala new age media, exhibitionism, sado masochism, meditation (that doesn’t erase fascism or ultra capitalism, rejection of the differencies), culpability (if no money success), all these concepts are there to separate your freedom from your acts, from your moves. It’s pueril, and it’s dangerous.
    It’s tipically stuff related by people who are disturbed, who believe in magic, or by people who do’nt want to see how the reality is. People who live in L.A., for instance, who accepts the deshumanisation of the society, and who thinks that they are (inside) probaly wrong, but they’re not! They are just realistic and they don’t accept it. They prefer to adapt to the shit, rather than fighting against it.

  4. blm / new media / new age dit :

    I just met a musician and “programer artist” on facebook :

    After 5 min of chat, suddenly, the nice “digital artist from the internet” reveals himself to beobssesed by his online self-image, and doesn’t stand any argumentation. He’s totally sure about his open mind, his alternative art. He’s especially convinced about how artists should be.

    Well that “open-minded-tech-scene-guy” was an other right wing psychopath disguised in cool dude retro futurist imagery, who doesn’t fear to send you the bill after one minute, or a nice fb block, if case you’re a bit too fast to discover the fakery.

  5. vatican cops.. dit :

    Subject : Recently (july 17)
    Cardinals in Rome / atVican High society, just get busted, doing drug and gay orgy ; in the holy place !
    .
    I don’t see any problems with gay and drug orgies. This joyfull expériences are naturals. The problem is, of course, that they forbid them since 2017 years. They kill. They burn. They SAY! since a very long time.

    They use texts, dogmas and moral for their busnesses and dictatorials cultural hidden shit politics. Because religion is just politic. It has always been like this. And you can observe how ISIS organised the capitalists standarts based on sex and slavery.

    It’s not only catholics. It’s jewishs and muslims and buddhists. All corrupts. All liars.

    So, … why should I be shocked ? Which opinion should we have ? Do we say : oh, it’s horrible, orgies in Rome, in Vatican?

    Choose your enemy… Choose your side.
    Wich side? :-)

    http://nypost.com/2017/07/05/vatican-cops-bust-drug-fueled-gay-orgy-at-cardinals-apartment/

    http://www.ilfattoquotidiano.it/2017/06/28/vaticano-fermato-un-monsignore-festini-gay-e-droga-nel-palazzo-del-santuffizio/3691426/

  6. auddie dit :

    About the recent Las Vegas Massacre.

    It’s about the ugly “normality” of nowadays. And they search for an anomaly in the killer, somthing hidden .But. Nothing is no longer hidden in this clountry ! In this abnormal society full or weakness, lies and disparities. A real fucked up world.

    End of the european holly-days in america

    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2017_Las_Vegas_shooting

  7. blm ^ a photo analysis dit :

    We look at a photography :

    in the forefront, an enlighted young naked tree. In the backgroungd : some modern empty architect appartements from the east-side Berlin. It’s calm. This is the night. The whole art work inspires tension, fear, but also, ulta sharpness. It looks like a failed photo. Under the building, some warm colours in transparency are suggesting an other world, the world of the cars, out of the perception’s range. Hope, maybe.

    The artist is trying to hide something, or the show it
    or, does he reveal that emotional OuR core is hidden behind tons of fakery ? Based on what ?

    A certain ratio of violence is there, no doubt about it. But wich one? Even comfort zones are hiding a violence. European sweet life styles can hide colonialism, wars, or the organised theft of resources in Africa.
    The front subject, a banal fence surrounded by wild plants, a monodirectional gonzo light, and the sad and cold background, are dialoguing. This dialog reflects the violence.
    No crazyness here. It’s not even trying to “blow the whistle”. ( ” M ” , Fritz Lang).
    It is an enlighted young naked tree
    stroked, by a red flashing spektrum on the left side
    visited by some kind of artefact, a small detail,
    something …
    .
    .

    A slight self is hiding sub pulsions
    what you see is what you get
    between the lines : a thriller driller ( me and my camera )

  8. auddie dit :

    Most of the short movies I see on the internet have a perfect image, great colors and quality, thausends euros high end equipment. The work flow is organised like a fashion set up, with perfect model, perfect make up, perfect pictures, design, correction…

    …but it’s still “like” the real thing. It is always “Like” Paris. “Like” the fifties. “Like” we live in the forrest.
    120 years of cinema are suddenly erased. and it is the same with music.

    But I’m sorry to say that we now live in a rubbish bag.

  9. prostate cratère dit :

    Jodorowski, the argentinian philosopher, the writer, the researcher, the tarrot user, the script writer, director and poet, calls the artists who copy the energy of others : ” psychic vampires”. For him, they are only there to suck other creator’s blood.

    I blocked couple of them, even close friends, who where slightely “inventing” new directions, ideas, forms and theories, without even noticing that it didn’t came from them…

    Marcel Proust dedicated famous lines about Bloch, one of his character (an other psychic vampire), who was saying months later exactly the same lines than St Loup, the writer’s double in the crime scene.

  10. The prison box dit :

    I tried to watch a serie…. and barely could ! Even the new Twin Peaks.

    There are some good artworks, but I can’t get the format. It turns me sick. I feel that this addictive habits is based on discouragment : watching the more you can, like in some restaurants, eating the more you can. As it is with facebook, you are disconnected … instead ob BEEING connected. And … staying home all the time… This no rich experience to me.

    After one episode, I get the form, the characters, the subject, and then… the whole. I mean, Personnally, I can’t go further. I feel “they” turn me dumb, and then come the same episodes after the same episodes. It’s so artistically weak.

    Did you noticed that in theses series, nobody is staying in front of their television?
    In these series, the characters are living something.
    …Just think about it…

    But more than this, the worst is that nobody goes to theater anymore.

    Everything is dying : the places, the cities, the communities, the art, the dramaturgy, the past.

    Big web companies just created the : p r i s o n box

  11. The jobs habit dit :

    When you alternate intense moment of creation and moments of normal jobs, you realize how your artists views are pointless.
    You realise what is life in a regular non-artistic life/job. You suddenly understand what people have in mind, what they think about your caprices and aestetics, your pseudo avant-garde, your pseudo courage : they – just – don’t – care – about ! It jsut doesn’t exist for them. You are talking alone.

    Each time, when I struggled to survive these weeks of “normal” work that allowed me to keep continue my researchs: I update my researchs! I update my artist blindness. I look at the non trendy people.

    blm

  12. mirrored event dit :

    Do you know what is a mirrored event ?

    For each slide on Tinder, a migrant is sold as slave in Lybia.

    For each line of cocaine, a young columbian dies hard in the streets of Bogota

  13. Ricardo Rene Dominguez dit :

    This E-age calls on us to create magikal transformations with our artivism and avant-gardening that can capture all the demons that jump from toxic things to the Internet of things, from oil to Hush Puppies, from radiant dust to art bunkers-to route around the bubbling sludge around us and within us.

    Yet, no matter what we do the demons, that old Pazuzu, keep riding downwind. So we mark and draw out our exorcism of our lands, bodies and skies. We make circles and filters that attempt to contain our contagious condition-but something always keeps breaking out.

    So now we attempt to become more contagious,more viral, more weedy, more infecting-using our magik to become wilder beings-to be one in states of effuvian extimacy.

  14. artists-like dit :

    I never saw any good creator without a certain ratio of crazyness and violence, or ruled by paradoxs.
    Or is it just about beeing trully deranged? Can creation enhance that unbalance?

    I also never saw any good artists, I mean, really original artists, who are coming from art schools. Studying art or technique is like studying normality (and competition). You are a nice interpreter, you are well trained in a well balanced world, you are integrated ; but … It’s empty.
    You have to unlearn first.

    Conclusion: don’t go to school. Play whith what you don’t control.

  15. blm ( #metoo ) dit :

    # Metoo.

    In France, women are fighting against each other about the ideas of sexual harassement vs equality vs rape vs pleasure vs puritanism vs freedom of speach vs law vs biology.

    Two sides are just created, to reach, in principle, the third track : a real equality of rights and behaviour with the men.

    The fact that, in front of every social progress, people try to reveals their power and take advantage of it… is… quiet normal, but als overy embarassing.

    One side is purely binary and constrain the speach. The other side is purely provocative and loves to play with words.

    The problem is that the dudes don’t speak about it between each others, and for me, this is the key. Nothing will change if there is no male consciousness in every cultural or social levels, about where the limits are. Because, the limits will be the ones included in that male conversation, and step by step, even in the families, the world will change.

    It will come from a deep change into males mind and politics, not from a biology VS queer dogamtism fight (into the same sex).

  16. blm - women producers dit :

    _ Women producers subject in the rave scenes _

    I can’t stand these quotes about an intentional “discrimination” women producers are facing in the techno scene. It isn’t “intentional”.
    If there are less women playing in the rave scene, it’s because young men like hard musics (they “feel” something then). I don’t say it’s good or bad. It’s a fact, not my opinion. It is statistical.
    Because women today, due to the same societal realities, do love to compose more cerebral and beautiful tunes than animals ones, they play less (and it happens in this particular artistic field only), not because they are “discriminated”. They play less, because the low culture standarts are still the majority in Europe.
    Little dudes do like hard music. They don’t get sensitive music. Most of them. I’m not talking about Berlin or about avant-garde scenes (some niches). Country side scenes in Europe are like that, and it won’t change in a finger snap.
    They are the active clichés.

    An example :

    Me, when I stopped to do hard breaks or hard techno in the end of the 90′, I started to produce more intellectual music, electro, or song writing. I started to play less. It’s like that. It was automatic.
    In the other hand, if a woman producer starts to play radical straight music or break beats, she will play a lot… in some… young men raves and clubs.

    Untill we reach clearer times, when young boys won’t have to challenge themselves with hard beats to fullfill their anger, the social competition or testosterone level or whatever today’s virility has to be triggered, there will be more hard music for hard dudes (and chicks). It doesn’t have to do with “discrimination” in the booking area, like : “oh no, not a woman”.

  17. La Baron Calvina dit :

    so far as we romanticize gunplay as a courageous action it remains an attractive option for alienated youth to express violent impulses. when the user-friendly world of shoot-em-up video games & facebook flamewars gives way to the cruelties of real-time human interactions, the digital identity either collapses gracefully or attempts to handle the situation in the way it knows best: shooting guns.

  18. the art lie dit :

    I don’t think that the world of art, galleries and museums, provide more freedom, equality and integrity than what is happening in the western populist / capitalist scenes.

  19. blm - In Egypt dit :

    last days in Egypt.

    I did 4000 photos and hours of film. The light is amazing.

    This is religious, clumsy, and very hard for women, but I perceive realities that our european mind can’t understand.
    For me now, the contract between a couple is ruled by various forces that unify them.
    Sure, they could do it differently… in different contexts… or continents, or wethers.

    For me now, the context is religious because it’s poor and dry. The earth there is dry.
    The power of the nomad is fragile. He answers to a difficulty with an other difficulty.
    Mothers make sons.

    The arbabic world is way different than we can figure out with our paranoid press.
    These magestic civilisations are asleep. The gestures are so classy.
    The freedom and consciousness of the educated people are exactly the same as ours, but just with more beauty. The potential is huge.

    I love celts, but they could have change 2 or 3 things in their behaviour.
    Once again, as I did with Asia or with Russia, a reality check changed my obscure mind.

  20. blm - under the silver lake dit :

    Under the silver lake ✅

    2018, directed by David Robert Mitchell

    Close-up film and dawn lights on a Los Angeles low-ceilinged..; the main character is most of the time in front of us, in front of you, in front of me, maybe, in front of himself, and in each shot, in each scene, almost identical, we penetrate deeply into what remains of vivacity, both in the cinema-literature culture of Southern California, absurd parts and critical idleness, as in American existentialism – keep your humor, heaven will help you- that crumbles with every lie, or with every bump of a policy that essentializes false news as false statement since trump for us exists. The bank, your landlord, the pound, love, can leave you out in the cold; at least it’s starry.

    L.A. Never confidential again. We are in it, in your brain, in your ellipse and in what we call in your first years of fine arts : the mise en abyme (seeting into abyss). But at the bottom of the hole in the cellar of the abandoned village of the macabre country, there is another hole, left by the previous stiff. Did you ever met a guy from Los Angeles or an actress who comes back from this town? It’s tense panic and moist steam. The looks, the expressions, are not very safe any more. It’s new-age media and deep adolescence, literally incurable. That age is like a disease, and the problem is, you always start out young in L.A….

    The spirit there sticks to your skin and if you do not flee immediately to enter the old Europe and its proven principles of reality, you sink into material opulence and nothing will save you, nothing, nothing, not even to be under the rubble of Hollywood, not even to be near the sea. Get yourself drowned in a pool at the top of a building, drive a Mustang and stagger forward as if your legs, kidneys, and all your inspiration had been broken.
    Los Angeles is a strange city, a computer programmer told me exiled to Berlin. And himself… was strange, so… if he said that… And this actress, a eastern europe chick who drank the hype as one saves a land that has not seen water for months. This city had rinsed it with pop patchouli, vulgarity with too much zero behind, and no numbers in front. The slightest idea, the slightest sign of recognition, the smallest detail worthy of a modern postcard electrified his imagination, for a result… outdated and sordid.

    Sordid is the word, when one follows, close-ups in largesse made to fate, the main actor, sort of Han solo never became pilot. This is what he does: he flirts, fucks, doesn’t pay his rent, lies to his mother, looks for the limit. He’s looking to lose everything, he doesn’t believe in anything anymore. Class nihilism has shaken in him more than his womb can bear. He vomits up his idle fever and sexual geek temper, for once. Yeah, we should give him that, basically. In a sense, what could be more flattering, in this city of madmen, of mental morons, of elegant madmen, of pleasure-seekers stuck to the 80s, than to follow to the letter their beliefs, their decerebral whims, their collective hallucinations. It’s the 600th movie like this. From the novels of Bret Easton, from Map to the stars, from back to the future, to… a man who sleeps (maybe) in Perrec let’s go back to our home what makes the sap of boyholes to son, resorts out of time. Maybe that’s what Los Angeles is all about, except that it’s not Time that is stopped. It’s the wormhole… that doesn’t stop. We lost them all. But he’s venturing. He makes us accomplices of the last process of non-Hollywood fiction: the impossible. Not justified. No fools, no drug addicts, no superpowers, no dark forces. No, it is the whole post-modern pitfall of fiction that is still being tested and that seeks, whatever the cost, to find a justification for freedom, for the canvas for the programmed obsolescence of “cool” auteur, for the springboard to criticism, for the Oscar of the best millenials that has nothing to say but its own fear, that its own deliverance. We go through the atomization of nihilism, we force the narrative to get used to the worst, to the rebound, and since nothing can justify madness, nor psychedelism, nor the superpowers, it is Hollywood, the cinema itself, which is taken as a reference, and here we go again for one more hour of scenes where the investigation mixes with the quest and then, it is a climax, with normality. It’s not even a dream anymore. Even the old people have done much worse. Even the old men have seen more flashes and demons than the coolest recalcitrant 30-year-old. The fractal is enshrined in the constitution. It’s a film from L.A. that overheats instead of going to Asia, a film that films at dawn and in the crazy evening, to get back in the white light of a low morning weather, in a cemetery of bottles and some real graves. Light and decor, nothing stands out anymore, all caught in the dough: we cross them drunk in a sedan, and each chick is a conscientious worker, a consecrated libertarian.

    The truth is under the silver lake, under the astronauts’ mercury, in Dylan’s song: “How do you feel? To be on your own. Like a rolling stone” to say that each initiation leaves you in the same place, but at least you know you won’t die. Too bad… because sometimes there was less effort to be made. Tomorrow is always another day. Fucking life.
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    Brieuc Le Meur

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  21. BLM - Mandy (Movie) dit :

    Mandy (movie) ✅

    Américain thriller written and directed by Panos Cosmatos. Sept 2018.
    Director : Panos Cosmatos
    With Nicolas Cage
    Soundtracks : Jóhann Jóhannsson
    Script : Panos Cosmatos, Aaron Stewart-Ahn

    Mandy is a red film, red as its poster, red as the blood that passes through your eyelids when you press it and you see flames through your retina.

    Mandy is a simple movie. But I imagine that its genesis and the time taken by the writer and director Panos Cosmatos, of whom we know nothing, were long. Deciding on simplicity, purity. Strengthening your defenses to assume this approach from start to finish is not an easy task.

    Mandy seems to have been designed to take on the B-series format, with a framework reduced to the essential: radical, raw jouissance, with no other ambition – in the viewer – than to laugh at the worst horrors. In a piece of dance music, where drop is the law, the rythm change, the relaunch, the break, the insolent gesture, the vibrator, the outlet and sublimation, derisory also, when you think about i. The movement participates in the same idea, in the realization. It’s a popular approach because it doesn’t claim anything else. Buy a pizza, you got your pizza. And all that cheese! And that blood-red, mirror-red sauce!

    Essential… It’s the same for Hollywood’s most credible and less vulgar B-Series actor, the most capable, without flinching, of moving from more secondary genres to arty projects: Nicolas Cage.

    With him and this film, it is certain that thousands of film lovers will rediscover his demented filmography. He cumulates these roles of good devil who takes revenge, who takes revenge and who takes revenge again. He suffers from it, before, during, after it, but no matter what, his rage is proof. His ugly clothes, his absolutely grotesque t-shirts. It feels like it. It is the real life, detached from the eyes of others at the bottom, since it is so big, so overwhelming. Massacre is cultural in America, it’s isolation. He is the gangster from Wales and Brandenburg, lost for 5 generations in the Alaska. It’s Jesus and his gun.

    Then, the script is cut in a single block with the same idea:
    Presentation of the couple, introducing the bad guys. It goes very fast. Moving on to action. Revenge of the hero who lost the woman of his life. He’ll have to carry all the burdens at once.

    It goes straight ahead like a piece of hypno music. There are no other effects than this generosity. No other effects? Maybe not. Many other films have gone through this process, and have printed a post-modern mark. We can, we know, we have the right to make scenes (in films) and actions (in real life) that last, emaciated by the time, that everyone handle with products, alcohol, music, and that’s how life is. Before, we didn’t have too much right to show it and even less to assume it; but today, the acid rain, the rains of liberal comets, the political speeches on the radio, America, the nation, that Cage cuts immediately to drive quietly…. All this isolation of souls. Work, nothing. Work. Nothing. Well, yes, we don’t have much human warmth. The buzzing of souls. The hum of this soundtrack. These red saturations and the clinical support of the assembly. It feels like cotton. It’s almost like therapy. We simply sink into madness as we simply recover from a cataclysm. The transition from one state to another is clear. We’re not even scared anymore. We laugh. The emotion is smooth.
    In the almost identical DNA of the spectators and characters, in the DNA of the cinema itself, no longer so distant, we are used to overdoses, drugs, at worst boredom, resignation. We have even got used to leaving childhood too early, with bits that remain attached to the branches.

    We’ve almost gotten used to death, to the sublime belly down, to hallucinations. We have got used to the fact that there are no major changes in the background: we are being screwed by the great Organization, by the black sect, by the incoherent world. But we’re not afraid anymore. We’re just dazed.

    We are Mandy and Nicolas, who we don’t talk to at the drugstore because they don’t go to the movies…

  22. blm _ representation systems of the leader dit :

    The trickle-down theory / Nowadays, it hides more an intimate “representation systems of the leader”

    *
    (the growth runoff, the dreeping. Also knowed as Trickle-down economics)
    How are our societies, our representation systems doing?

    By Brieuc Le Meur

    *

    Among the proven and combined capacities of French politics, there are some that have recently surpassed all others: brutal frankness, approximation and double standards. These qualities seem to be appreciated since they have been carrying candidates for power for decades. Is this the French spirit in its most unspoken intimacy, its most edifying software? Among these manifestations, one argument reveals the mysteries of public representation: the trickle-down theory. It means that the thirstiest, the most disadvantaged, the most innocent of citizens, will benefit from the good health of the infrastructures, first thought for the powerful, then, forgotten, outright, given the opulence and hangover, left there for the use of a people who are still called themselves: the “people”.

    Largesse therefore, at a time of transnational delusions, systematic short-circuits of the state, the very one that is erected as a barrier when the democratic process comes to life again, when generous people of history and thought propose clearer, fairer and more transparent economic and political systems. Then, suddenly, are we inventing fears, refusals, idealisms, while behind, bad merchants, bad business leads, ruin one by one all the possible. The point is that they’re not even good capitalists.

    Perhaps this possessive evil goes beyond intentions and uses attributed to it in the macro-economic sphere.

    Governments, not just the Macrons “En Marche” government, assume this candid form of persuasion, which is not linked to any form of demonstration. Why?

    Pushed by a journalist, a president would like to convince us that the good health of companies will perhaps bear fruit. From a media point of view, the gesture is linked to the entrepreneurial question, to Dad’s machismo. At the base of the old hierarchies is added a notion of speed, of shortened time: “too much to do, too much work”, but in real, it is clear that the strategy is: why should we answer, when we simply do not know what we are doing? In the other hand, the person who votes is overwhelmed, referred to her own simplistic simulations. From the outset, what we are proposing to the citizen is a voice, and not a polyphony. It is the projection of one’s own simplistic figure, not a palette of possibilities.

    *

    What is actually happening?

    On either side of the oligarchy, rich and poor alike sometimes think about what this ghost of original capitalism would be if it were replaced. Yet it who has multiplied life expectancy by four times, almost eradicated the widespread poverty that reigned, brought more peace than wars… before a more democratic, collective, mechanistic successor, even the most libertarian, the most cultured, the most subversive, demonstrate their attachment to old social contracts and above all, to authority. It is the first safeguard, the confiscation of people’s autonomy. In their minds, it is said: I can control myself, but not my son or my neighbour. “If I were president.” The representation of the self as a leader devalues the democratic from the outset. When it comes to representing others, representing your self, representing, it does not seem possible to trust others. Infantilization is permanent. Being responsible, or truly free, is a fiction. However, for forty years, i.e. after the reconstruction of the territory “Europe”, neither the hysteria of full employment, nor growth, nor equality, have been working. Is it a defect in the individual’s intimate relationship, a love for subordination? (and not for the one at the top)? We can once again ask ourselves if hierarchies are not forced (abusely accused, obtusely denounced), and if beyond historical power relations there is not, installed in our biological software and our personalities, a natural subordination induced by our systems of representation (The attribution of things to oneself by language, for example).

    My opinion is that the force of the nominal carries everything with it: the identity of things, the identity of people, of places.

    With each name given we take the substance in exchange.

    In the end, it is not the leader who represents us, but, this is him who is in us, in our hearts. As in a dream, we are all characters: the authoritarian figure, the crook, the young first, the omniscient, the wise, the angry.
    The fear of instability linked to our unconfidency can vibrate durably at each election and act against any candidate who does not completely hide our own defects and weaknesses, with the clichés of subordination that we would like to be attributed to ourselves. This is the real contract: Master, remind me that I am your servant and I would elect myself powerful. Servant, remind me that I am your master, and I would have little respect for you. This means that we are the ones representing the leader. Of course… didactic statements are here subject to a reserved use. Simply put, these forces are clearly at work when a politician uses familiar expressions or gestures of the people to unconsciously remind them that they are hiding behind the simplistic desire for power of their citizens.

    This is the nature of Trickle down economics, and it is clear that politicians are anticipating this delirium of representation. It is not taught, but it is discussed. After all, teachers are not trained to be in a classroom, in front of students either. The subjects, the program, yes, but the theatre…

    What we must look for is in the adherence to these political beliefs based on intimate springs: tones of voice, power of language over the body, bodily expression. Conviction is not based on logical economic calculation (but was it ever?), but on intentions. This is the crucible of Western political binarities since religion disappeared: how the leader or the national entrepreneurial example is constituted. How do we see ourselves as chief, as a leader.

    Those who have nothing, like those who have everything, are equal in front of the desire for power.

    According to the old model, someone who had and was nothing could become either a master or a monk (a person who must possess nothing). The intercourse is unbalanced. To become a master, you can get closer to it: servant, clerk, peasant, knight, merchant. Some dreamed of it but didn’t become it. It was necessary to accumulate credit, virtue, and possessions. From generation to generation, from marriage to low blow, it was always for the next guy or for the child king, also made in our Dionysian image. But let us look at, on the other side of the social balance, between these two ancient roles, a superb “middle”, which interests us absolutely and constitutes the majority: the people. It is a productive force and a blind spot of representation. It is a political and spiritual reverie that can be exploited infinitely; but in truth, it still does not exist. It is not, and has never been, in the little papers of desire.

    *

    Here is an example that matches the news of the 2018 school year: Nicolas Hulot (French Minister of Ecology and sustainable development in 2017 until beginning of 2018, date of his resignation).
    It was the same reversal of the political process of representation. From his activities as an international activist, his election as Minister of Ecology, until his recent resignation in August 2018, he was accused of being subjected to lobbies, of pampering his image, of being a hollow shell of cathodic ecology, but these imaginary opinions mainly highlighted the lack of information that reigns in this kind of case. The further away from the representative’s real actions, the more man is subjected to the wrath of those who project themselves into them. The commentator solves through him the own incoherence of his actions (human, ecological, in this regard) (through the hyper erotic media network of ghost intimacy.
    As it stands, and being then the figure of the chief, the less we know, the more we discharge ourselves into it. Moreover, from the moment he resigned, he was suddenly no longer the object of attacks. Without further information on his struggles (the real, concrete, behind the scenes, the ecologist), he went back to the esteem of the driest commentators. It was that they suddenly found themselves unrepresented. Hear that, their intimacy was no longer directly related to authority. Because : it is the authority relationship that authorizes the transfer.

    From a symbolic and graphic point of view: the couch (the divan) is reversed. The leader lies on it, and his wrongs or qualities flow into the subject’s mind (on his turgid ego).
    Contestation, polemics, conflicts, are here in direct link with the intimate. It is a necessary awareness, like ceasing to wait for us to be forced, by restrictive measures, to be ecological, instead of no longer spontaneously buying plastic, weed killer. It is not for the State to do that, it is up to the citizen; but the spiritual connection is revealed by its contradictions.

    *

    Yesterday, I was amazed that a Maltese gallery owner told me that my French nationality could bring a plus to my artistic work. It made me think about it. What kind of “plus” did I enjoy as a Frenchman? What was dripping? On the train to Barcelona, a free spirit, backpack and music, desires for beaches and encounters, answered an English friend’s question about the French cultural exception. Among all the battles he had fought against big business in all the windows, he was no longer very sure of the exceptional character of his country of origin. His answer was surprising: we have gastronomy, fashion, Airbus, TGV, and luxury. On another occasion, a Swedish friend finally thought it was possible to invest here, a kind of good time that had been long overdue. When I asked her why she felt it so obvious at that moment. An intuition (feeling, hunch) she said to me.

    On the basis of many other observations in this sense, my conviction is that what is flowing is not a little money escaped from the Elysian plumbing of manu the right pipes, but rather the desire to enjoy a reputation. It even allows injustice to be re-distilled. This is an old imperialist reality, and therefore, an ultra-violent one. We close our eyes to the abuses of leaders and armies, as well as to recent colonisations: we close our eyes to ourselves. It is a strong feeling to feel reassured, safe, with more than enough, or to belong to this master, to this family. It is this fantasy of power through money that flows.

    On the contrary, artists and prophets try to blur what the poor feel. The shared feelings of winning, success or dishonour, which are the prerogative of the loser, notions that are now praised by American culture, are exacerbated in the individual report. Individuals continue to stand up against other individuals – on an equal level in the face of metaphysical adversity (how I support myself), but also on the same level of ignorance. There are no more kings, no more masters, no more knights, no more monks. Only you in front of the absolute and your body that suffers and that is hungry. Have you earned your plot? Your place in the new world? Did you fight? Do you have blood on your hands (yours or others’)? It is this culture that continues today.

    The tax optimization of large groups, the automation of tasks, the end of employment as a pillar of redistribution are modern realities. There are still no adequate political alternatives. We remain in ideology, in binary, in personnel, otherwise in personality. Worse, that a financial advantage for the public derives from these approximations is a radical break with the republican contract. In a sense, Trickle down economics is outlawed.

    It is then a question of thinking about what prevents people from getting angry and going out on the street ?
    And we’ve already said it: first of all, everyone wants to be king.

    Symbolic forces take everything in their path. Even if you don’t like football, as a French expatriate, a victory for the bleus (soccer national French team color) is synonymous with respectability in circles of friends or at work. It is an almost genetic subliminal frequency that can be detected in admiring glances. They are legs, tactics, postures secretly evoked; it is a war game (the idea of ancient conflicts is still present). We appreciate all the more the family and bourgeois capacities of a clan that has been able to impose an ability to command, to negotiate, to find its place in a coded world of men and women of networks that we respect across the seas. We will welcome an ability to communicate or, on the contrary, to turn the discussion on its head, to get to the point. These faculties, hover above all that dwells in the dominant, the dominated, it is even what connects them. It is what will make the master, the godfather, the mother or the father love, and this feeling is always there, that the republic has not erased. Moreover, it is “on the move”, that is, it is slipping away, it is not where it should have exercised its egalitarian thought and its capacity for awakening.
    In this sense, even notion such as “the state“ (having a sense of the state) is as blinding as it is transgressing fundamental values. The runoff theory (trickle down theory) is a flagrant contradiction both of our laws and of the way in which the majority of our citizens perceive their nation, for it is at the first glance (the first projection of yourself), disrupting the idea that “we are the state”. It is, with these old vertical forces, barely impossible. You can’t “be the sate”, you can just highjack it.

    What flows is a reputation. It flows over us and dresses us in glory. That’s what most people vote with. The French said, without really thinking further, that Macron would have been more effective on the international capitalist scene. Whether alternative or in Sunday clothes, the qualities of the leader (in an imaginary duel, the duel that everyone imagines for himself) reflect on the public. It’s always been like that. It is a reflex of voluntary servitude. It’s old; it’s common. Something hovers in the air: the aura of the representative. It’s here and there. This archaic leader is everywhere in us. It is not to be confused with subordination to work, but rather with a brutal idea of divine authority. From this point of view, a judgment, even an absurd one, was the law.

    Sometimes we react positively when our friend accesses a situation. He may have done the wrong thing, he may have made a mistake, but he comes back one morning dressed in new clothes and shows his virtue, if not his humility. His reputation is enhanced. It’s the elevator! The social elevator. The power with fine folds, a clean surface, a delicate matter. Even the most hardened of the protesters feels better off when they see their friend looking more presentable. This is the positive impression of this runoff (it’s dreeping).

    Appearance is still the first driver of seduction. Nature makes snap decisions because it does not have the freedom we are talking about. The flower, the bee, the animal, have no alternatives. The effort given to appear beautiful, to deceive his world, is a fundamental rule. The law attempts to demystify this. Democracy is not the jungle, it is the opposite, but this antagonism with nature is not enshrined in the constitution. It talks about equality. It’s already strong. But is it enough? In birds, the dance announces the missing gene to the female. In humans, the voice (its resonance, its timbre) gives very convincing, instinctive indications. Sometimes there’s nothing else. Everything goes through her and through the gesture. These (in fact much more than details, it’s maybe the most significant) mean more than they say. Here too, genes are intertwined. And here, there is no republic. The clothes impress families, friends, people who don’t know you, employers. Even the one who curses the clothes gets caught in his own game. Who from t-shirt in sandals, angry songs, fasting in resignation, the first white shirt that passes through and it’s folded: it’s combined, it’s respectable. That’s what causes the admiring pout. In women and men, the kingdom is animal. The desire, infinite.

    It is well known that the people are not ready to break out of their patterns. To hell with wandering souls! Servitude is faith in a future within reach. Work is always the sacred value; it is what soon leads our society to collapse. Notorious waste of time and energy, useless tasks, archaic redistribution, it is nevertheless always an object of domination as well as liberation. It’s a metaphysical guarantee. It is a concept that remains (both on the left and on the right). There is -unfortunately for the majority- little evidence of restrictions on freedoms: one likes to be devoted (to someone, to something). And from the point of view of the great causes or the State, we like this noble, electrifying notion of sacrifice. We even love it in art, because we work for posterity. It’s a desire for power. A desperate gesture.

    The republic took a long time to deconstruct secular dominations, to erase the society of bullies, but at the moment, we still accept this political word. Strange. The French (or anywhere else) will vote again for an image of a dominant self. We prefer these simplistic things to mechanistic research, to non-ideological policies. What would we do without our dear intimate conflicts, without our grandiloquent denunciations, without our great declarations? The militant is a prince with clay feet.

    Today, Trump, Putin, Macron, apply the logic of good impression and policing. Their primary profession, forced, purchased, artificial commercial health, leads us to believe that they are fighting an absolute danger: the instability of another system. But the truth is, there is no danger. They take advantage of the intimate strategy of the people who vote for them: the paternalistic figure. Instinctively, they bet that the intention will make any transition phenomenon collapse with loss and profit. It is about exploiting the fear of losing oneself in the face of a multiple, changing, varied other person who would make us feel precarious. It is about keeping everyone in well-defined tasks and roles, and that will lead us to disaster.
    The road paved with old-fashioned violence provokes reactions whose source is known: beyond the effect of surprise, the figure and its mirror are respected. It pleases stepfather, step-mother. Everyone benefits from it. The citizens, with the resignations and submissions that characterize them, and some ultra-rich, souls lost forever in the idiocy of their lives on the edge. They’d rather lose everything. We sometimes think of the difference between Trump and Clinton, between the populist rupture of the former and the oligarchy of the latter… But neither of them is a boon to the Americans.

    *

    There’s that runoff (dreeping, trickle down theory), right there. Not in the economic reality, ready to collapse again, but in a sense that our intimate habits are still usable against us.

    Brieuc Le Meur
    Vineuil / Berlin
    August 2018

  23. auddie - yellow vests marc dit :

    I would love to have my berliner friends in that thinking process.

    What is happening is huge, and trully unique. In France, women, young people, old retired people, students, freelancers, workers, liberals, indie entrepreneurs, all society layers, manifest in the streets since 3 weeks, sometimes violently. They block the whole country. They are simply hungry. They live in debt. They can’t built any life project, and the gov’s keep continue to dispise them. They just don’t want to live like that anymore. This is a survival reaction, and a spiritual one as well. Everything is way too fucked.

    All of a sudden, it happens, and nobody have seen it coming. It’s not even a political party stuff. This is just what it is : a spontaneous human movement.

    “It” doesn’t want to re-instore something related to the old state. They just don’t want it. This is like: a massive horizontal new way of thinking, with horizontal hierarchy. and none and nobody will ever trick us again, with old bits of the system. The system is down and will stay down. People understood that the energy of the people is the only real motor of the economy and the society. It’s enough for itself. It’s politically sufficient. I’m not talking about anarchy or old rockn’roll stuff.

    What I just say (and many others artists, intellectuals, researchers) is that it has enough power, without clear leader or party, to administrate itself, locally.

    What is happening to COP 24 in Polland is closely linked to it : the states of the majors nations, can’t take a single decision anymore. They can’t go against their budget, or against the new protectionist and economic war of Trump-era, but also of the EU-era war. CO2 raising and the killing of the biodiversity will continue, because a state can’t move (in that form).

    The real changes has to come directly from the people, from the civil society. From the citizens organisations. From… something else ; something not reffered to the upper levels of our societies.

    What is going on, today, with the Yellow Jackets movement, is not only a very large new form of self organisation and disruption, this is also the only key to biodiversity preservation.
    Because the strong décisions will have to be taken collectively, with full consciousness. Maybe internet could help. Maybe.

    I hope it’s not too long. I know many of you aren’t use to exchange such ideas. We prefer art, techno, fashion, queer, bdsm, daily surviving, internet, boose, friends, sex or whatever. We are Berlin, in its most intenational way. But.. Berlin also have to get the point.

    Even we are actors of a very special social avant-garde : beeing what we want to be… Our bubble is very very thin … There’s a world outside and we should be part of it.

  24. blm - berlin unconcerned dit :

    Hey you, the “berlin-queer-techno-art-family”. Doesn’t your startup job make you happy ? Are your next gigs more important than fighting against thus who destroy our future and surrounding?

    Alors la techno family, les dandy musclés et les queers sponsorisés gilette, ton job à la con qui te met tout chiffon, tes dates de merde dans des festivals sans âme et tes cachets d’artiste, c’est plus important que de créer et défendre un projet démocratique nouveau, aux fondements environnementaux et sociétaux ? c’est bien ça ?

  25. blm - Sarajevo dit :

    Went to a war museum / About Bosnian muslim turkish genocide by serbs military mercenaries-illuminaties / It was very hard to stand. Especially the videos… You see the men brought to death in the mountains, and the guy who’s filming asked one of them “are you affraid ? You should be affraid”. You see the glance… You don’t understand why they did such… absurdity. The younf soldiers also don’t know. To replace with what ? And UN that were there and didn’t move to empeach the massacre (dutch military). Why ? Same with France in Rwanda. “We” let it happened (in our names?) Why? I don’t believe in borders. I don’t know which words I could use after that. Maybe just one : At the entrance, there was pictures of the young men killed… 400 portraits, on 8000 deads… I can tell : These fascist assholes killed the most beautiful kids. Real angels. Maybe that was the purpose.

  26. halftime baby dit :

    I feel I won against the darkness.
    I can reproduce it, in a musical form, or as text, picture or idea, but It doesn’t affect me anymore.
    It took me years to redesign my brain map, to recable, and to say : no. Just : no.

  27. voidcaïd - Border (the movie) dit :

    Because, Cinema is the only contemporary art that last with techno music in our societies, the good and bad of our realities, and how it pulses, I’m going each week in the dark rooms to discover what other freaks have to say. In the meanwhile, the gigantic freak, the mass, you and me, the normal one, the horrible über normal crypto conservative and unconcerned freak, (work-tv-weekend-metro-work-tv), is soooo normal, that everybody else freaks out. Dinausaur reign.

  28. auddie - Notre Dame Cathedral fire and bigots reactions dit :

    Everything that has been sentimental since yesterday about the “century-old architecture of the companions” is charged with the indifference that reigns today.

    We have crossed all the limits of indecency, exploded all sense of proportion. In the current context, people should contemplate this bonfire, then denounce that political recuperation of the “cool catholics”, of the french billionaires who drop 700 million in a finger snap, as one would make a stupid bet in the name of “national unity”. It’s all they can do, instead of not paying their taxes? Isn’t there any other problems, than buying a fresh new reputation and entering the history, by the door of religious totalitarianism? We see the french young nationalists on tv, on the cathedral’s square, praying for the symbol. We read violent women, who would not shed a tear at the idea of a hard and fascist right-wing policy, in the German way of the 1930s. There are even some who suddenly “pray to God” like that, online, between two book reviews or a militant fights…

    This is not an opinion. This is historic fact : it has always sucked. Lies. Lies. Lies. Only lies with organised religions.

    For me the Louvre Museum could burn, it would be good reason to start painting naked bodies again, to tell the truth, to make new sculptures, instead of praising those who own them. How many aesthetic treasures are denied today? The current companions produce magnificent works, they can be seen in the theater dark rooms of nowadays, but with them, bourgeois families cannot redeem themselves. With Notre Dame, yes.

    What we have read since yesterday is appalling. Even people who are fighting for social justice are going for their sudden condescension, their love of heritage; and why not luxury brands? It’s the same thing. It is exactly the same thing.

    True beauty is the complex cause-and-effect relationships, and the cycles of nature. When we understand them, we realize that 1 – everything can be rebuilt, and – 2 On the other hand, what has been done to men is lost forever. Their injuries and scars last for ever.

    Injustice does not close with sudden aesthetic palpitations. Closing our eyes to the disgusting relationships of domination and manipulation of states and religions is the worst ideology ever. These architectural symbols, whatever they are, whatever their artistic, commercial or historical value, are worthless in the face of this age-old violence and people’s distress!
    But this posture, being “hyper concerned by the art of the companions” is symptomatic of the worrying absence of these leverage effects. One thing leads to that. A lie, a manipulation, hide this. This is what should obsess everyone: the signs of everyday life, even the smallest ones. It’s an open book. And this inferno and its hypocritical reaction, a revelation.

    It’s the bigots and hyprocrite reactions that cause the scandal, not the inferno.

    Closing our eyes to true memory, the memory of scars made to men, is the worst ideology. For indifference, and the belief that one is superior in culture and virtue, contempt for different beings, is the ideology; it is even the basis of all totalitarianism. It is there, everywhere, in French spelling, in luxury, on the gloomy Haussmann boulevards, in this heritage that hides poverty. They are examples, edifying symbols.

    So, of course, I also enjoy entering a church or mosque, which I never fail to do, like photographing them. My mother was a history teacher. I was born in Blois, a royal city, a historic city. I know what I’m talking about.

    Architects, artists, massons, what they love is their work, not what is in the head of the prince who raises a religious building to his lubricated glory.

    The companions don’t give a damn if a building burns down, they’ll always have work to do. They knew better than anyone else about the scams, the corruption of the church.

    Buy the works of those who are alive. Buy today’s Gothic gargoyles, today’s nudes, not those commissioned by the god LVMH of the time. The same people want to renovate the building!

    Unless you want to give your child to the church, or to the provincial elders who fuck them, who destroy their adult lives?

    As one american artist recently said: “to all the ppl saying ugh it was just priceless architecture that was burnt, ummmm yeah, like burning your rapists porsche 911, who gives a fuck”.

  29. Estelle - rage (eng) dit :

    I don’t want to know what the souls of Berlin artists will be like when they are old, undermined by defeat, isolation and despair.
    An entire generation of creators will find themselves stuck, consumed by failure.
    The conquests are those against time, on oneself, not on matter, nor on space, and only those who advance in the shadows, coming from other horizons, will have an exit on the sea, found at the bottom of them.

  30. Jean-Pascal Mattei - For the Daemon dit :

    English translation of the critical analysis (in 2 parts) of my feature lenght ” For the Daemon”, freshly achieved. Written by the unique and über prolific french movie critic Jean-Pascal Mattei

    *
    1
    “Let’s have a drink” to the health of Salome, an almost headless beheaded woman.

    “In Berlin by the wall, you were five foot ten inches tall”
    Lou Reed

    In the last century, on TV, in the presence of one of the interested parties, Bernadette Lafont, not to mention her, a coldly angry Gilles Jacob claimed, about La Maman et la Putain (Eustache, 1973), that it was a non-film not directed by a non filmmaker. We could, today, take up and reverse the formula, make it an indication/invitation and no longer a condemnation, because For the Daemon (2018) explores the land of poetry, as much as it extends Brieuc Le Meur’s previous works, let’s say those available online. In response to a desire for “classical narrative”, the versatile artist proposes the following argument: Cordt Hammer is a journalist who finds himself amidst a feminine revolution as possibly the last man on Earth. Is it a dream? Is this reality? We follow him as he embarks on a journey to the very edges of Berlin to interview a musician, where he is finally captured by a coven of witches only to be roped in to film their nefarious rituals. Where have all the men gone? Will he even make it out alive? Could this be Cordt’s final chance at redemption? Journalism, feminism, subjectivism thus embrace each other within a territory mapped by techno and the office, textures and architectures, dance and wandering, recurring elements of filmography until now. Whether he walks on a beach in Brittany, looks at himself in the mirror of a club in Germany, makes a European journey, beats the fog, shoots warm-ups, shows up near a tire in winter, not Rubber’s, salacious and solar one (Dupieux, 2010), that he put himself in abyss with the beautiful Bianca, BLM keeps his modesty, his humour, does not take the pose, abandons the artifices of the arty.

    What he’s aiming for? A kind of cosmopolitan witchcraft, a materialized interiority, a synthetic trip because at the crossroads of the written, the recited, the played, the danced, the filmed. In his own Women’s City (1980), less psychedelic and psychological than Fellini’s, there are nevertheless a few men, gathered in the basement of an isolated house on the outskirts of the Berlin capital, a space of greenery and detention whose protagonist says that it reminds him of an old Russian film, perhaps, by Tarkovski, The Mirror (1975), go figure. At a nocturnal moment, in echo of closed doors muffled by the supple “witches” above, free, haughty, in the open air, the guys move in a circle, as if van Gogh’s Prisoners’ Round (1890) suddenly came to life. Le Meur loves women, loves and knows how to film them, moving or motionless, funny or threatening. His Bande de filles (2014), more abstract and rural than Celine Sciamma’s, imitates eugenics, as its members are characterized by their youth, sensuality, mischievous beauty, while male representatives, submissive or criminal, laughing sinister understood, hardly provoke sympathy, empathy, polite euphemism. For the Daemon would therefore succumb to caricature, Manicheism, the supreme dream of the futile Femen? Not quite, since our investigator, Tintin to the Uterus, instead of Tibet, resists the supposed accomplices, refuses to put on their dirty and dark black dress. In him resides the film, despite a prologue marked by its absence, by an esoteric omniscience. In him breathes hope, of an encounter between genres and looks. The divinity of the title, in reality not very demonic, transgender, inspiration rather than devotion, now reigns over an inverted universe, both feminist utopia and macho dystopia.

    What do women do with this power, which has finally been acquired, taken over and made visible by their increased visibility? They get off on their feet, their mouths bloody, lipstick slumped, by an off-screen embrace, several, gang bang for once of happiness, they fuck the boys, not those of Sabrina Salerno, although, then worship the occult goddess. In German, English, Spanish and French, each silhouette of the footage is a pure image, a part of the landscape. The POV squared of the gently falot alter ego, certainly not phallo, idealizes and unrealizes. The journalist, like the director, remakes the world at the slightest second, shows his perspective of perceiving it. Like Bill Lee, identically escaped, also with glasses, Cordt Hammer, a bit of a hammer, overworked, attends, actor and witness, a Naked Lunch (Cronenberg, 1991) on the Berlin side. He’ll end up on the run, naked shirt of drolatic coda. Despite his surname and the mist that changed at the beginning, there was no reference to the legendary Hammer, to Mike Hammer, the private man of the day. And no lesbian embraces rhyme with Michel Houellebecq’s La Rivière (2001), similar and unrecognizable dream, quite superbly illuminated by the director of photography Jeanne Lapoirie. When Brieuc sent me his trailer, I immediately thought of Jean Rollin, I thought about it during the screening, correspondences of the cinemas of unsilvered poets, men fascinated by women, vampires or vestals, storytellers little concerned with linearity, introduction, development and conclusion, sacrosanct trinity of the mainstream film, well brought up, well straightened, well formatted to reassure. These countless stale products, already annealed from the trailer, Le Meur doesn’t care, no doubt. He knows that they do not care about a formal revolution or a women’s revolution.

    In this respect, let us repeat, For the Daemon does not belong to the category of ordinary cinema, which is shown on Wednesdays and in the memory bin the following day. Retrieved in Cannes, we giggle, this first attempt arouses curiosity, seduced by its sincerity, at the risk of autarky, stretching. When we elaborate such an odyssey, we border on solipsism, we sin for lack of flesh. Cordt & Celine would like to take a crass break, plan to (re)see each other tonight, to exercise exhaustingly, ecstatically, at home or even at work, glass cathedral dedicated to writing the information, with a sparse, feminized writing. They abstain, abstinence extends its power, on the curves of the servants, freed slaves, not a single drop of sweat, not a sign of truly living life. The protagonist narrator readily admits it, he sometimes thinks that he evolves in a frozen, frozen, anemic space-time, like his counterpart in Morel’s Invention (Bioy Casares, 1940). It is no longer a question of penetrating the spectacle of reality, it is necessary to escape from the “cabal”, i.e. the alubric clique. The sequence of the ceremony therefore works in a deceptive way: no Kubrick orgy (Eyes Wide Shut, 1999), no saphic embraces, no pretty epiphany, no revelation of the ultimate mysteries, camera filming the origin of the world now becoming the alpha and omega of that being, imagine Stravinsky sacred, springtime, coalesced with the hermetic Heidegger. The journey remains (too) wise, knowledge, biblical litany or heuristic unveiling, does not occur. Diffused in the three-sided ice, the monologue interviewer and his replicas are similar to scans, iterations, amplified sampling.
    A girl handles a stroller skeleton, a poignant shot, initialling the children’s fainting. Cellulars encapsulate cells, solitudes, dialogue is only established between responders or speakers retracted, sent back to devalued activities. The geometry of the building vertically draws up the horizontal geometry, overhanging, of the traffic lanes, where the cars even roll in the opposite direction, special effects à la Cocteau. Equipped with his Canon, among cannons, Candide’s cousin, a tax evader, was astounded by the disintegrated, out of tune, out of shape ballet, and recorded it in turn, himself immortalized on film. Previously, he licked kitchen equipment, wondered, lying in the sunny, magnanimous grasses, while his slender colleagues slid along deserted corridors, suffering from the Demy syndrome, the charming triviality, the singing. Brieuc Le Meur combines depth and height, width and thickness. He films near the performers, he frames the faces in profile or in front, within reach of an empathic lens, distance abolished via a distant caress. Deprived of 3D, of the technological equipment of Pina’s crash (Wenders, 2011), he partially succeeds in the (meta)physical, improvised-organized happening of the Teutonic ritual supported by a song. The superimpositions follow the melody, the rhythms of the music and the choreographic movements harmonize, creating a bewitching sequence, close to trance, observation, curious low framing sewn in alternating mounting in the round at the hollow of the stones mentioned above. On a stage, cosmic solo, then final at the table, tarot of renewal. The map of the Bitten indicates cruelty, obsessions, encourages emancipation.

    For the Daemon ends a first time with a gesture of submission, transmission, reconciliation, remembering Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam (1508-12), homoerotic concord for Sistine transalpine. It then ends, for good, in the fade to black of a quivering forest, where the German Adam fled. The scriptwriter-director-editor-producer-sound designer and DP could count on the participation of Cord Schwäkendiek, Beate Lue, Carmen Redecker, Salomé Walbrou or Celine Yildirim, make-up artist Sigune Roloff, on the technical contributions of Alex Diamantstein & Adam Richards, says the credits. Straddling fantasy, SF, comedy of morals and experimental, For the Daemon can be read as a societal fable, in fictional, non-consensual autobiography, in the translation of emotions, of sensations. The reflection in action(s) is not intended for a satanist audience, thank God, rather for adventurous film buffs, English-speaking, possibly music lovers, who agree to leave their visual and sound comfort zone for one hour and twenty minutes. I write it, I write it again – cinema does not exist, unlike cinemas, in a thousand and one ways to do it, to remake, to undo it. The stimulating and unsuccessful attempt of the opus combines the openings and closures of the digital underground, of traditional diegetics. Brieuc reinvents himself, he tells, he infuses his war history in a personal, soothing sensoriality. I hold no truth, not even for that medium (cinema), and only my productive passion for film gives me a semblance of legitimacy. I will not advise the correspondent acting, the analytical writing itself being an expression in its own right, on another sphere.

    Caring Brieuc, continue, persevere, transform yourself, get dirty, excite us, shake us, use your skill in the service of a luminous black mass, not fearful, a funeral rite sometimes austere, a confrontation with ghosts in reflection. We call it cinema, poetry, transcendence, we know, you and I, that it comes from the body, from death, from the mind, from envy, from luck and from childhood. As an atheist assumed, I pray for our reunion on a funeral background and I promise you, no matter what the future holds, to walk your path with a sharp, exhausting, desolate, ravishing wire for days. Ancient or electronic, the demon, in short, refers to our spirituality, our momentum, our energy. Let us film/write with and for him, then share our harvests and lightning, our fires and our miseries, the two or three reasons not to despair, to celebrate, to greet, as adults and friendly simplicity.

    2

    Written/published/deleted last summer, according to the artist’s wishes, surprised by my reactive prose, grateful and yet dissatisfied with its “first draft”, the above text, unchanged by one iota, responded to a film that no longer exists, that does not disappear. For the Daemon (2019) therefore comes back from not so far away, in a non extended redux version, rather reworked. Offloaded by about ten minutes, equipped with subtitles, topographical and chronological indications, the journey to the déjà vu tunes, greeting to the concluding song, now begins as Vidéodrome (Cronenberg, 1983), includes commando radio, Sarah Grether in virago on mic, especially a sexy scene with a “datcha bdsm lover”, sweet Lord. Brieuc Le Meur spoke in MP on FB with your servant and here seems to remember my recommendations to more incarnation. If the awake dreamlike is thus strengthened, the erotic is erased in front of the drolatic, triangular vaudeville re-reading. Comical, anecdotal, the situation ratifies the reversed roles, repeats in private the swapped balance of power, accepted, a dentist will rectify the minimal damage of sexual and dog-fighting play, between totally consenting partners, do not keep children away. A rural colleague of Barbet’s specialized Mistress (Schroeder, 1975), Celine admits her expectation of maternity, Cordt talks about her “super sperm”, the submissive finds his voice and identifies himself as an “intellectual”. Ruthless, the whip-whip editor dismissed the journalist, reframed his slave, summarized the supremacy of the machines, amen, while the overcutting accompanied the stress of the reporter under pressure, contrasted with the calm of the place.

    This gives rise to two reflections, on time and movement. A book does not go faster because shortened, speed does not depend on speed but on velocity, subjectivity, how long the plans last, internally and externally, within the whole and during the process. A Proustian filmmaker, Sergio Leone praised the slowness, not the length, stretching without annoying. Individual temporal feelings rarely align with the arbitrary objectivity of clocks, and in the room, at home, the spectator experiences perfectly different temporalities from the daily, professional, interpersonal flow. Even vitaminized and reordered, For the Daemon therefore retains its quality, its limit, as a psychotronic trip. Then, the film material is practiced in Meccano solo, I go up, I take apart, I go back up moments, I deconstruct a choreography, I swap tumult, I test contexts. Despite the chaos of the RKO, La Splendeur des Amberson (Welles, 1942) retains its witchcraft, its nostalgic rhythm, its hypnotic cruelty. Behind the decisions of the editors Moss, Wise & Robson, we feel Orson’s inspiration, we keep the watermark of the half violated masterpiece, because the personality on canvas, a dual sense, cannot dissolve in extenso: cut, redrawn, Picasso persists in Picasso. Less hermetic, more energetic, For the Daemon does not modify its DNA or its data, produced at a distance, ten months after its initial birth, a similar effect, barely differentiated. The work in progress based on the high priestess certainly lent itself to manipulation and reconfiguration, but Cordt’s heart emancipates itself from the imposed, rethought-out cadence CQFD of the malleable integrity of the filmed object.

    As it stands, the dance of the “I move forward”, of the second “chance”, idiotisms transfused from French, does not open a new horizon. So should we see this second version as a sterile attempt, a useless arrangement? Of course not, it must be appreciated as a testimony of uncertainty, modesty, audacity and honesty. Brieuc Le Meur’s art is a sound sculpture of bodies and settings, not characterized by arrogance, but defined by its high standards. Sensitive or not to his experiments, his representations, his scenic, acoustic, poetic, political, that is to say collective and singularized productions placed in the middle of the City, Berlin or digitalized, the sincerity of his work deserves esteem, sensation, transmission. No matter how he tackles Our Lady’s psychodrama, his “demons” spread wisely, multiple and stimulating présents.

    *

    Original in franch on his website :
    https://lemiroirdesfantomes.blogspot.com/2019/05/for-daemon-ceremonie-secrete.html

  31. blm- Hong Kong 2019 dit :

    What is happening in Hong Kong is for me, humble political analyst and dreamer, the very first sign of the forthcoming end of the chinese diktatorship (and maybe other diktatorships). It will take 30 other years, but this is the sign. This is the changeover. And I think the chinese governement knows it : it’s tricky now.

    30 years after Tian’anmen, the repression will kill again, and the army will take place in the city, but the Hong Kong people won’t give up. It will create some sort of a virtuous circle, backed by the entire world.
    But, the most important of it : it will give ideas to the chineses themselves !

    In France, with the yellow vests protesters, it was the soft socialists, the anarchists, the ecologists, the fascists (french trumpists and liars), all with different levels of consciousness (and there are so much to debunk about it, with mixed or opposite feelings), all against the ultra capitalists, against the network of a few, against the deshumanisation of the world.

    In Hong Kong, this is the capitalists, the so called “free world”…, against the post communist dictatorship… (in fact an other form of ultra capitalism, dream of all “free world” politicians and CEOs. that’s why they won’t move).

    To stick to the bold lines of history, this is just the opposite of what is happening in Europe. The opposite ? I don’t know.

    What’s in the young protester’s hearts ?

    They -surely- have something new in mind.

    Let’s have something new in mind.

  32. Cingualte dit :

    “Closing our eyes to true memory, the memory of scars made to men, is the worst ideology. For indifference, and the belief that one is superior in culture and virtue, contempt for different beings, is the ideology; it is even the basis of all totalitarianism. It is there, everywhere, in French spelling, in luxury, on the gloomy Haussmann boulevards, in this heritage that hides poverty. They are examples, edifying symbols.” – je rattrape, parfait.

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