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mechant-machin

Uncategorized

Artisan

07.02.08 | Permalink | Comment?

In the second part, section II, Technique apprise par l’enfant… two texts come to mind, that expand on the artisan’s way of learning: Marcel Mauss, Les techniques du corps, and Jean-Pierre Warnier, A praexeological approach to subjectivation in a material world , Journal of Material Culture 2001;6;5

Uncategorized

Two poems by Friedrich Hölderlin

06.12.08 | Permalink | Comment?

Translated by Maxine Chernoff and Paul Hoover

Tripped over a reference to the documentary The Ister on Heidegger’s lectures at Freiburg in 1942. The film contains an lengthy interview with Bernard Stiegler who talks around themes dear to us.

The Ister (Der Ister)

Now is the time for fire!
Impatient for the daylight,
We’re on our knees,
Exhausted with waiting.
It’s then, in that silence,
We hear the woods’ strange call.
Meanwhile, we sing from the Indus,
Which comes from far away, and
From the Alpheus, since we’ve
Long desired decorum.
It’s not without dramatic flourish
That one grasps
Straight ahead
What is closest
To reach the other side.
But here we want to build.
Rivers make the land fertile
And allow the foliage to grow.
And if in the summer
Animals gather at a watering place
People will go there, too.

This river is called the Ister.
It lives in beauty. Columns of leaves burn
And stir. They stand in the forest
Supporting each other; above,
A second dimension juts out
From a dome of stones. So I’m
Not surprised that the distantly gleaming river
Made Hercules its guest,
When in search of shadows
He came down from Olympus
And up from the heat of Isthmus.

They were full of courage there,
Which always comes in handy, like cool water
And a path for the spirit to follow.
That’s why the hero preferred
To come to the water’s source, its fragrant yellow banks
Black with fir trees, in whose depths
The hunter likes to roam
At noon and the resinous trees
Moan as they grow.

Yet the river almost seems
To flow backwards, and I
Think it must come
From the East.
Much could
Be said further. But why does
It hang so straight from the mountain? That other river,
The Rhine, has gone away
Sideways. Not for nothing rivers
Flow in dryness. But how? We need a sign,
Nothing more, something plain and simple,
To remind us of sun and moon, so inseparable,
Which go away — day and night also —
And warm each other in heaven.
They give joy to the highest god. For how
Can he descend to them? And like earth’s ancient greenness
They are the children of heaven. But he seems
Too indulgent to me, not freer,
And almost scornful. For when

Day begins in youth,
Where it commences growing,
Another is already there
To further enhance the beauty, and chafes
At the bit like foals. And if he is happy
Distant breezes hear the commotion;
But the rock needs engraving
And the earth needs its furrows;
If not, an endless desolation;
But what a river will do,
Nobody knows.

The Titans (Die Titanen)

It’s not yet
Time. They are still
Unbound. And the indifferent don’t care
About godly matters.
Let them puzzle it out
With the Oracle. Meanwhile, during the festivities,
I’ll take my ease thinking of the dead.
In the old days, many generals died
and lovely women and poets.
Today, it’s many men.
But I am alone.

                                        and sailing on the ocean
The sweetly scented islands
Ask where they are.

For something of them remains
In writing and in myth.
God reveals so much.
For a long time the clouds
Have influenced what’s below
And the holy forest, fertile as a god,
Has sent down roots.
The world’s riches burn too intensely.
For we don’t have the song
That will shake our spirit free.
It would consume itself,
For the heavenly fire can never
Endure captivity.

Yet men enjoy
The banquet, and in celebration,
Their eyes are brightened by pearls
On a young woman’s neck.
Also games of war
                                and through
The garden paths
The memory of battle clatters;
The resonant weapons
Of heroic ancestors lie soothed
And still upon the breasts
Of children. But the bees hum
Around me, and where the plowman
Makes his furrows, birds
Sing against the light. Many give
Help to heaven. The poet
Sees them. It’s good to rely
On others. For no one can bear his life alone.

For when the busy day
Catches fire,
And heavenly dew glistens
On the chain
Leading lightning from sunrise
To its source, even mortals
Feel its grandeur.
That’s why they build houses
And the workshop is so busy
And ships sail against the currents
And men exchange greetings
Holding out their hands; it’s sensible
On earth, and not for nothing
Do we fix our eyes on the ground.

Yet you sense
A different way.
For proportion demands
That coarseness exist
For purity to be known.

But when the first cause
Reaches into the earth
To make it come to life,
People think the heavenly
Have come down to the dead
And the all-knowing has dawned
In a boundless emptiness.
It’s not for me to say
That the gods are growing weak
Just as they come into being.
But when
                            and it goes

As far as the part in father’s hair, so that

            and the bird of heaven
Makes it known to him. Wonderful
in anger, that’s what matters.

Uncategorized

Hypertélie

06.10.08 | Permalink | Comment?

I am not sure I would use the term “defect”. Simondon writes of hypertélie that it is a specialisation, suggesting that it is not polyvalent: “…et le désadaptent par rapport à un changement même leger…” p. 50

I am not sure Baudrillard knew his biology! My understanding of hypertélie is an exagerated developement, which can potentially consitute a gene.

Simondon is not a dialectical thinker.

reading group

Baudrillard’s Hypertelic Overdrive

06.09.08 | Permalink | 1 Comment

I found this in Baudrillard Live: Selected Interviews. In Mike Gane (Editor), London: Routledge, 1993 . p.91. 

…[Destruction within universal discourse] is the paradox of saturation, inversion. There is a kind of reversible fatality for systems, because the more they go towards universality, towards their total limits, there is a kind of reversal which they themselves produce, and which destroys their own objective. It is what I call “hypertelia”, a way of surpassing function, past its own objective. One goes past finality. Things go too far. Cancer, for example, is a hypertelic process: the cells are too lively; they reproduce too quickly. For the organism itself, it is a catastrophic process. With systems of economy, knowledge, production, if they go too far in the one direction they get carried away and over-reach their own limits, and at this moment they lose themselves in reversal. For this reason the dialectical process is no longer operative. In my opinion, the dialectical process plays on certain divisions: production, sexuality, etc. There has been a phase when there really was a production and a dialectic of meaning. And then it contained too much. It is finished. Dialectics are finished. Another regime has taken over. And what interests me is the analysis of this regime.
SM: The regime of hypertelia?
Baudrillard: Yes. Hypertelia, excressence, proliferation.

It would appear that hypertelia is something built-in, a hylomorphic defect where the evolution of the technical object takes place with too many residual degrees of freedom rendering it too polyvalent or open-ended and not specific enough to be of cogent use. Is the opposite of hypertelia, infratelia? Is it like over-specialization? a hyper-pre-determination of the technical object whose development is hampered by too few degrees of freedom to accommodate adaptation? Felix

discussion

notes from the meeting

06.07.08 | Permalink | Comment?

Uncategorized

J.J. von Uexküll

05.27.08 | Permalink | Comment?

The biologist to look at is Jakob Johann von Uexküll: Umwelt und Innenwelt, and Streifzüge durch die Umwelten von Tieren und Menschen. These are available in French, and are also available in English in an old issue of Semiotica , I believe.

reading group

simondon online

05.27.08 | Permalink | Comment?

Hello everybody, finally got this online. This blog will provide a basic background to our Simondon discussions that we will be having this summer. Now that I have a new server, we will have a limitless supply of memory for uploading all of the articles and texts that we may want during the course of the discussion group. Virtually everybody involved in the discussion group will have full editing and uploading privileges. The only thing that I request is that you keep the content of the blog private and blocked from search engines since we have a lot of scanned content.

To the left, we have the side bar with all of our downloadable pdf etc. You can upload the content yourself through the blog authoring window or even just upload it and provide a link in the links section of the blog. I am not a bloqque meister, nor do I want the burden of managing and tweaking this when I should be reading. So please take the time to read the instructions to learn how to use this. I’ll do a quick run through on Thursday when we meet with the performance group.

I am terribly ambivalent about the blog title, so any suggestions would be welcome.

oh and the proper place to login is:

http://simondon.ocular-witness.com/wp-login.php

the login name should be your first name with first letter cap

and pw is …….