Tuesday, February 7, 2023

hardly recognize me i'm so

time: that to which I used to be most attached, when, having lost so much time, I tried very hard to outrun it. that's probably also why, browsing around for art history books as a kid, I was immediately taken with the scholarship of Pam Lee, her prescient work on Chronophobia, fear of time, as a condition of postwar art in particular. I love Pat Steir's distinctions between kronos and kairos, born of the same era of thought and tantric practice, when time was the silent partner in hippiedom, which believed itself exempt from, or operating perpendicular to, its bylaws. we obviously have a contested and "multiplicitous" conception of time now, as any Urbanomics book will hand feed you and any Semiotext(e) work will skirt round saying altogether. Masha Tupitsyn, for example, has confronted the subject head on, meaning through films, meaning through images, which is how the French (Proust; Cinema, de notre temps; Stiegler, Bergson) have always mastered time, by canvassing its ceding to and from creation. there's the TimePassages astrology app and I like this song—"interpreted by Marlene Dietrich"—on the topic, too, which is about Pete Seeger, and today's dessicant-packed New York, and the world of the pre, and the reality of the post, about accepting time, warps and all. Marlene is rather duck-faced by that point (1972) but does emote a tender indignation. it's very human to see her like this, pure talking head, floating there, nearly shouting! when did time escape her grasp?



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