Simone White - U vodi gdje završava grad

U vodi gdje završava grad. Na nebu gdje završava udisaj. U priči gdje završava razum. U zemlji gdje završava cesta. U tom trenutku.
(Animacija: Hideyuki Katsumata)

Hanne Hukkelberg - Mozgovi od perja

Oči se pretvaraju u uši, uši se pretvaraju u ruke. Mozak od perja. Drevni izvanzemljaci, Sotona od Mjeseca i Mt Everest fotografiraju tvoje neurone. Ne mogu vjerovati onome što vide! Zar su to ljudi koje smo stvorili? Zar seks u troje završava ovako?

Još jedni "studiji" - place studies

Interdisciplinarni miks filozofije, geografije, arhitekture, urbanizma i ekologijskih studija. Kao uvod, evo ulomka iz intervjua s veličanstvenim Dylanom Triggom:


"One of your areas of research interest is the phenomenology of place. In fact, your most recent book is entitled Memory of Place: a Phenomenology of the Uncanny, which has been characterized as a “lively and original intervention into contemporary debates within ‘place studies,’ an interdisciplinary field at the intersection of philosophy, geography, architecture, urban design, and environmental studies.” I was hoping you could give us a sneak peek of your book. In a nutshell, What is the place of memory in Memory of Place?


There are three places of memory I describe in the book. The first is the episodic memories of places that we have from our past. These are the memories we become attached, either though positive or negative experiences. They are the places, in which memorable events occur, and in the process transform the place in question from the background context of our memories to the formative focus of those memories. Typically, one thinks of such places as any place we have developed a relationship with, such that the place becomes a part of our sense of self. The philosophical question surrounding these memories concerns to what extent the memories of places we’ve inhabited contributes to our sense of self. In the book, I argue that the memory of place is a privileged memory, as it allows a heightened interplay between the bodily self and the material world. Put another way, the memory of place attests to our bodily entwinement with materiality. In this way, it presents a critique to the Lockean idea that personal identity is secured by the continuity of an immaterial memory. So, spatiality is not an extension of memory, less even a mnemonic to cue specific memories. I am not, for instance, concerned with how particular places nudge dormant memories into consciousness, as though memory occupied an incidental relationship to the environment. Rather, what concerns me is the necessary relationship between memory and materiality, and how this relationship can pose a source of alienation as well as a source of continuity to the remembering subject.
The second place of memory refers less to the individual experience of places from one’s past, and more to construction of memories through the natural and built environment. Here, my concern is with monuments sites of trauma, and ruins that portend to events outside the memory of the living subject. This transition from the memory of place to the place of memory mirrors a shift from a phenomenological focus on lived experience to a hermeneutic analysis of the environment. So, for example, in my discussion of monumentality and space, the key question is how can a material artefact stand aside from the surrounding world, embody a commemorative silence, and stop us in our tracks? This is a complex process, which carries with the ethical responsibility of how materiality ought to respond to the past. And there are no clear responses here, as any monument has to negotiate between the obligations of the past and the uncertainties of the future.
The final, and perhaps most important, place of memory is the human body. The body’s memory place is implicated in both forms of memories above, but it is also independent from these. This phrase “body memory” needs to be clarified, as it can refer to many things. The way that I use it in the book is less in the manner of Proustean recollection, as an invitation to lost time (though, of course, these memories are vitally important to our understanding of the embodiment of the past). It refers even less to a mechanical retrieval of applied motor memories, such as being able to hold a pen. Instead, the phrase refers to the relation between how we cognitively recall the past and the way in which our bodies act as anonymous organisms for manifesting a history different to that cognitive impression of the past. This emphasis on “difference” is because body memory carries with it a fundamental ambiguity: the body’s memory of places belongs to us as personal subjects and simultaneously can remain at odds with our personal recollection of the past. Obviously one clear way in which the body can manifest a past different to the past we’ve ordinarily remembered is in cases of traumatic recollection. Traumatic memory is one especially visceral way that the body can become a host for a living history that the traumatised subject is alienated from despite being constituted by that past.
But this sense of body memory as being the site of a different past is not limited to trauma. As I argue in the book, the role of body memory can help explain phenomenon such as hauntings. Both trauma and hauntings call upon the idea that the body has a hidden teleology that strives toward the preservation of self, even if that self is now a materialization of self-estrangement, now ill-at-home in its flesh. This principle is also evident in more innocuous environments such as airports, waiting rooms, and modern offices. This transition from sites of trauma to airports may seem flippant. But in fact one of the things I argue in this book is the following: the certain places can be so cognitively overwhelming or disorientating, that bodily intentionality takes a more focal role in guiding us through the world. Of course, thematically, there is a huge difference from being lost in an airport and being imprisoned in a solitary cell. Yet in both cases, the structure of bodily experience retains a parallel role. In turn, this can lead to a nullification of memory in our conscious lives. All along, the body is in the midst of establishing its own history of the world, which may return to us long after the place has receded from our waking lives.
All of this points to the importance of the uncanny in the book. As I mentioned above, phenomenology has a special relationship to the uncanny, insofar as returning to the things themselves can, in Merleau-Ponty’s words, encourage us to view the world, “as if viewed by a creature of another species.” In the book, I am interested in how this other species joins Freud’s account of the uncanny as involving a “species of the frightening.” This encounter of weird species is the backdrop against which my study of memory and materiality takes place. Memory fits especially well into this uncanny landscape, as it involves a twilight zone between presence and absence, past and present, and the familiarity of visual memory and the unfamiliarity of a memory anchored in the body’s cryptic experience of things.

What can you tell us about “place studies” as a contemporary field of inquiry? What can you say about its origins and antecedents?

Place studies is the field of inquiry that dedicates itself to the study of how we experience places, how places intersect in political life, and how places shapes our understanding of identity, individual and collective. My own work in this field has tended to veer toward the phenomenological study of place, even though I occupy a critical stance to some tendencies in the phenomenological tradition. The study of place, as it features in philosophy, tends to take its point of departure from Heidegger’s account of dwelling, Merleau-Ponty’s emphasis on bodily spatiality, and perhaps more critically, Gaston Bachelard’s important book, “The Poetics of Space.” Bachelard is especially crucial here for thematizing the role of place in our remembering lives. For him, the childhood home becomes a sort of ontological centre, around which much of our subsequent live revolves. This is because, for Bachelard, the memory of places is oneiric in nature: memories of childhood homes drift into our daydreams and imaginations, creating an overlapping duration in our history. Of course, there is much that is problematic in this idealization of childhood memories, and Bachelard remains mute in his treatment of the house as a site of hostile memories. Nevertheless, he has exerted a tremendous influence on philosophical studies of place. Both Bachelard and Heidegger are formative in influencing the discipline of human geography, which is closely aligned with phenomenological studies of place. So, in the 1970s and 1980s a steady output of research on place by pioneering thinkers such as David Seamon, Yi-Fu Tuan, and Edward Relph. These thinkers were among the first to explicitly employ a phenomenological background to our experience of the natural and urban environment. At the heart of much of this research is an ethical assumption about what constitutes a “sense of place.” As such, in its earliest stages, the phenomenological treatment of place tended to be slightly one-sided in its criticism of the “placelessness” of the urban environment, at times gesturing toward a vaguely Bachelardian nostalgia. Later on, thinkers such as Karsten Harries, Robert Mugerauer, and the architect Juhani Pallasmaa pushed these origins in a more diverse direction, while still retaining a broadly Heideggerian foundation. Today, the contemporary field of place studies is in a healthy state: thinkers such as Jeff Malpas, Ted Toadvine, and Doreen Massey are all pushing the field in exciting ways. For me, though, the most significant thinker for my own work is Edward Casey. Casey has written prolifically on place, remembering, and imagination. His books such as “Getting Back Into Place” and “The Fate of Place” are exemplary in their thematic richness, scholarly breadth, and attention to phenomenological detail. This last point was especially compelling for me when I first discovered his work as an undergraduate. It seems to me that one strength of phenomenology is the ability to remind us of things that we already know but have been overlooked through habit and over familiarity. Reading Casey was a breakthrough for me, as he work calls attention to the richness of everyday life with such clarity and precision that one has exactly this sense that his thinking is also an act of recollecting what we already know but were blind to." - Figure/Ground Communication

Triggova web stranica ovdje

Zebra Katz - Znanje je umjetnička forma vrijeđanja

"chop that bitch,” “slice that bitch,” “dice that bitch,” “ice that bitch,” “proofread that bitch,” “send that bitch to college,” “give that bitch some knowledge"

... i kako dobra pjesma i dobar video mogu dovesti do dobrog, užasno pretencioznog eseja:

"Some might say poetry is behind visual art, but I think it’s more so the case that voguing is light years ahead of everything. Today I’d like to tell you about my new favorite phenomenon of NYC black and Latino queer culture and its extreme verbal/visual fluency: Zebra Katz’s “Im a Read” featuring Njena Redd Foxxx. Gather and behold how this video turns the page on big bling beats and delivers, instead, a thousand tiny paper cuts to your eyes and ears. It is nothing short of a primer on cannibalizing your enemies, schooling yourself in their flaws, and dressing them down through sheer minimalist precision.
“Reading” in ball culture is “the real art form of insult” (Dorien Corey, Paris is Burning). Especially in the classroom–every kid’s training ground in racism and heterosexism–it takes ferosh verbal swagger to throw shade back at one’s perpetrator and “chop that bitch,” “slice that bitch,” “dice that bitch,” “ice that bitch,” “proofread that bitch,” “send that bitch to college,” “give that bitch some knowledge.” A razorblade visual sense is just as crucial for channeling voguing’s particular sacredness. To “pass” as another person, whether a straight private schoolgirl or teacher, is fundamental to this fine art. We are dealing, after all, with your education in realness. Don’t even act like you can’t get an F. Two masked, braided, gender-defying dark spirits punctuate the video’s report card of carnage and incantation of death spells in a drama that evokes the potatoesque’s annihilation and proliferation of identities. Even our shaman-warrior vocalists confess, as if cohabiting with the bodies they target, “I’ma…that bitch.”
As with the death drop, an exaltation of queerness follows Zebra Katz and Njena Redd Foxxx’s descent into dystopian hallways. Because no other religion expresses tougher love. Here we witness an assault on gender so total that no bitch (boy or girl) remains safe from the ball goddess; we can only pray she will strike us offstage." - Lucas de Lima

Human Centipede - Draga djeco, upoznajmo granice ljudskosti i gledljivosti

Ako ste zatvorili oči jer "ne gledate takve stvari", onda moramo riječima: ludi znanstvenik iz ljubavi prema čovječanstvu i predanosti znanstvenom napretku zašije usta jednog čovjeka za anus drugoga pa kad koncept proširiš na cijelu skupinu, eto ti ljudske gusjenice/stonoge. Horror koji čak ni ljubitelji horrora ne gledaju opušteno. Test za klasična pitanja: koliko se daleko može ići u umjetnosti i što je najstrašnije što uopće možeš zamisliti?

A u nastavku (stiliziranijem, gotovo art-noireu) glavni lik je "ovo":

Što bi on mogao učiniti braći ljudima (a tek sestrama)?

A uskoro stiže i treći dio.

Shablam - Ples kao akcelerator uličnog nasilja u rodno-klasnom kolajderu

Shablam iliti death drop dance je ples u kojemu oponašaš da te je netko pogodio metkom (ili nečime sličnim) pa se rušiš na pod. Performans nasilja, ekstaza nasilja, kritika nasilja? Estetika neizbježnog? Afekt koji se prepoznaje osjetilima/tijelom a ne kao značenje?

"What kind of crazy bitchiness is this? By accelerating collapse, the death drop pushes each vogue dancer’s sashay to its self-annihilating conclusion. This is a defiant performance of death that resonates all too compellingly through disenfranchised bodies of color. A sensation of death that, as in Jasbir Puar’s description of the suicide bomber’s queerness, “brings forth waves of the future into the present.”
If Notley’s Disobedience does the hard work of diagnosis without prescription, of survival through sheer antagonism, today’s voguing invites death as a disorientation of identity politics. The vogue performer’s body takes on a ballistic charge that bypasses the politics of difference reiterated (and redefined) even by the 80′s drag ball culture of Paris is Burning. Instead, the death drop tends to undifferentiate bodies. Its backward descent creates an affect or echo that is sensed rather than signified: we feel, rather than fully comprehend, the death drop’s intensity in our own mortal bodies. In the series of clips above, the counterintuitive drop shocks us repeatedly regardless of identity or context, not to mention the tedium of our necropolitical times.
Such a sensation nevertheless carries with it voguing’s particular social circumstances. The death drop, in this sense, passes on a kind of tactile knowledge: the phenomenon’s emergence is contingent on the categories of race, class, and gender/sexuality that the image at once transmits and defies when it delimits itself, saturating our senses. What the death drop thus challenges is the abstraction and circumscription of bodies that takes place in even our most well-intentioned gestures. As Notley’s poetry suggests through its own obliterative tonal force, the horizon is sacred in that it resists linearity, prediction, and knowability: “I have defined degradation:/Your valuing of present time/above sacred time and its site/in the world’s body.” Instead of relying on the fixations of naming, identity, and representation, any politics to come must exalt the body’s utter porosity and instability as ground…" - Lucas de Lima

Soap&Skin [Anja Plaschg] - Muzika za tužne kralježnice

Letiš na krilima golemog orla, bacaš bombe izravno u ljudska srca i slušaš kako ljubav eksplodira. Hej, čini se da ljubav vrišti i na njemačkom i francuskom. Nebo i zemlja spojeni su gravitacijskom zakovicom, ne, ipak su to usne.

  

"Losing a parent is a traumatic, life changing event for anyone. For an already emotional Austrian teenage musician with one dark and downbeat album to her name it was understandably devastating. It's taken Anja Plaschg, aka Soap&Skin, almost three years to channel the emotional pain of her father's sudden, unexpected death into Narrow, the follow up to her 2009 debut Lovetune For Vacuum. Despite the passing of time Anja's pain is still so raw, the wounds are still so fresh that listening to the album feels like intruding on private grief.
From the self explanatory emotional, piano lead opening track 'Vater' to Lost with it's simple refrain of 'I lost you, I really lost you' and the coffins of 'Deathmental' the ghost of Anja's father looms large over Narrow. 'Vater' may be sung entirely in German but you don't need to be fluent in the Teutonic language to understand the sense of loss and hurt. This is as intense as music gets, a torrent of anguish at the loss of a loved one. Understandably there's nothing upbeat about Narrow. Anja's dark mood colours everything she touches even turning 'Voyage Voyage', a throwaway Europop track from the 80s, into a stripped back melancholic ballad more suited to a funeral than an Italian disco. It's more intense than an Antony Hegarty psychotherapy session and, thankfully, much more listenable.
On the harsh, industrial 'Deathmental' Anja's grief turns to anger providing a welcome change of tone from the oppressive melancholia that covers the rest of Narrow like a shroud. Normal funereal service is resumed with the beautiful, elegaic 'Wonder', a delicate, fragile hymn that could give a statue goosebumps. If you don't shed a tear or two then you should book a trip to a cardiologist to check you have a heart. By the time you reach 'Lost' the tears will be flowing like Niagara Falls in the rainy season.
The album closes with 'Big Hands Nail Down' which starts slowly, quietly before exploding into an orchestral masterpiece which will make your spine shiver and your chest heave. It's a final cry of pain from a young women struggling to come to terms with her loss and using her art as cathartic therapy.
Narrow is an album to be endured more than enjoyed, a work of serious art not entertainment. Despite, or maybe because of this, it will be one of the few albums released in 2012 which will pass the test of time and still be regarded as a classic when we're all drawing our pensions. Once you've heard this disturbing, breathtaking, beautifully bleak album all others will seem frivolous and meaningless by comparison." - thefourohfive.com 

i neke starije pjesme:

Prijedlog za čitanje - moguće dobre priče

 
 AD Jameson je anketirao suradnike Htmlgianta o najboljoj priči koju su pročitali u zadnje vrijeme. Pravi best-of izbor ovo nije, ali dobra sugestija za čitanje jest.


2012

• Said Sayrafiezadeh: “A Brief Encounter With the Enemy” (in The New Yorker)

2011

• Adam Peterson’s “It Goes Without Saying” (in Camera Obscura #3)
• Alissa Nutting: “She-Male” (from Unclean Jobs for Women and Girls)
• Ashley Farmer: “Digging Deep” (in kill author #15)
• Anthony Luebbert: “Bobby Kennedy and His Sea Lion Sandy” (in Quick Fiction)
• Ben Lerner: “Leaving the Atocha Station” (from Leaving the Atocha Station)
• Casey Hannan: “Piano Hands” (in PANK)
• Charles Dodd White: “Winter by Heart” (in PANK)
• Colm Toibin: “The Street” (in McSweeney’s #36)
• George Saunders: “Home” (in The New Yorker)
• Hannah Voskuil: “Currents” (from Sudden Fiction Youth)
• Jeremy Robert Johnson: “Persistence Hunting” (from We Live Inside You)
• Jon Trobaugh: “L’Anguille” (in TRNSFR #4)
• Kirsty Logan: “Underskirts” (in PANK)
• Leslie Bazzett: “Screen Test” (in New England Review, V. 32, #2)
• Mary Stone: “We Will Plan Big Things” (in kill author #15)
• Mike Meginnis: “The Navigators” (in Hobart #12)
• Nathaniel Rich: “The Northeast Kingdom” (in McSweeney‘s #38)
• Pinckney Benedict: “The Beginning’s of Sorrow” (from Miracle Boy and Other Stories)
• Scott McClanahan: “any story in Stories V!”
• Ysabel Sex: “Fuck Coolhunter” (I looked for this but couldn’t find it, sorry.)

2010

• Aimee Bender: “The Color Master” (in Cincinnati Review and from My Mother She Killed Me My, Father He Ate Me)
• Allyson Armistead: “Oasis” (in eight cuts)
• Amanda Goldblatt: “If Your Light Must Leave You” (in The Collagist)
• Angi Becker Stevens: “The Opposite of Free” (in Wigleaf)
• April Ayers Lawson: “Virgin” (in The Paris Review)
• Deborah Willis: “Remember, Relive” (from Vanishing and Other Stories)
• Elaine Castillo: “Graphy, or The Girlhood of Achilles” (in PANK)
• Heidi Julavits: “Multiples of Cohen” (in Harper’s)
• Ingvar Ambjornsen: “Another Star” (in McSweeney’s 35)
• Jennifer Egan: “A Visit from the Goon Squad” (from A Visit from the Goon Squad)
• Matt Bell: “Dredge” (in Hayden’s Ferry Review #45)
• Rachel B. Glaser: “The Monkey Handler” (from Pee on Water)
• Roxane Gay: “Do You Have a Place For Me” (in spork)
• Roxane Gay: “La Negra Blanca” (in The Collagist)
• Seth Fried: “Those of Us in Plaid” (in McSweeney’s #33)
• Stepen A. Dixon: “Wife in Reverse” (in matchbook)

2009

• Amina Cain: “Black Wings” (from I Go to Some Hollow)
• Sam Pink: “Saved by the Bell” (in Titular)
• Steve Almond: “Donkey Greedy, Donkey Get Punched” (in Tin House)
• Ted Chiang: “Exhalation” (in Eclipse Two)

2008

• Brian Van Reet: “The Rooster” (in Shenandoah vol. 58 #1)
• Glen Pouciau: “Claim ” (in The Paris Review)
• Jill McCorkle: “Magic Words” (in Narrative Magazine)
• Kyle Minor: “They Take You” (in Pilots With Guns #3)
• Mary Ruefle: “A Half-Sketched Head” (from The Most of It)

2007

• George Saunders: “Puppy” (in The New Yorker)

2006

• Chris Adrian: “A Better Angel” (in The New Yorker)

2005

• Brian Evenson: “Mudder Tongue” (in McSweeney’s #16)
• James Salter: “Last Night” (from Last Night)
• Jeremy Robert Johnson: “Swimming in the House of the Sea” (from Angel Dust Apocalypse)

2004

• Chuck Palahniuk: “Guts” (in Playboy)
• Brian Evenson: “Moran’s Mexico” (from The Wavering Knife)
• David Foster Wallace: “Incarnations of Burned Children” (from Oblivion)

2003

• Sherman Alexie: “What You Pawn I Will Redeem” (in The New Yorker)

older stuff

• Spencer Holst: “Brilliant Science” (from Brilliant Science, 2000)
• William Gay: “The Paperhanger” (in Harper’s, 2000)
• Joshua Ferris: “Mrs. Blue” (in The Iowa Review V. 29, #2, pp. 34–46, Fall 1999)
• Ken Kalfus: “Pu-239″ (from Pu-239 and Other Russian Fantasies, 1999)
• Gene Wolfe: “Tracking Song” (in The Island of Doctor Death and Other Stories, 1997)
• Greg Egan: “Crystal Nights” (from Crystal Nights and Other Stories, 1997) (PDF)
• A.M. Homes: “A Real Doll” (in Barcelona Review, 1990)
• Gene Wolfe: “Seven American Nights” (from Sailing to Byzantium/Seven American Nights, 1989)
• Barry Hannah: “Testimony of Pilot” (from Airships, 1974)
• Stephen King: “Cain Rose Up” (in Ubis, 1968, and from Skeleton Crew, 1985)

Dean Blunt - The Narcissist II

Muzika za tijela bez glave. Komatozna odiseja kroz noćne more sitno samljevene čekićem i pomiješane s praškom vitamina C.

"Hype Williams’ music roams, meanders, drifts. The group’s members, Dean Blunt and Inga Copeland, bury their stories so deep that listening is like a mindfuck in slow motion. It’s a seductive, intoxicating blend of warped R&B, narcotic dub, broken drone, and comatose hip-hop, but their music signifies nothing/everything so confusingly that it unhinges itself from stylistic barriers, swims down your throat, and infects your body like a virus. The state they put you in isn’t one of hypnagogia or mysticism, but of bodily awareness: in its refusal to commit itself both aesthetically and conceptually, the music has no option but to root itself in the flesh, sweaty and foul-smelling, swishing and swaying away from the clinks and clanks of magic and rainbows. It’s music for the beheaded body, for the transient flesh-state, for the ever-shifting in-between.
If Hype Williams’ music fetishizes the drift in the context of the body, then The Narcissist II, a self-released solo mixtape by Blunt (stream here, download here), acts as a particularly noteworthy foil. For all the evasive dodge-balling — reflected also in their shrouded identities and multiple truth-tellings (Who exactly are Rory Gibb, Roy Nnawuchi, Karen Glass, Denna Glass, Bo Khat Eternal Troof Family Band, and Paradise Sisters?) — the moments of what one might call ‘song’ are framed by a story about abuse and infidelity told through scattered audio clips. Paranoia. Suspense. Rage. Violence. It’s all narcissistic stuff. But tethering the floating, impotent sounds of unstable synths, chink’d rhythms, and brilliant off-tune karaoke-ing (courtesy of Dean, except for a Julee Cruise-sampled track that features Copeland) to such a clear narrative encourages a functional reading: a hierarchy in sound materializes, where the tension-creating becomes complementary rather than an end unto itself. The result is a sort of dragging panic, a grotesque scrawl of ‘deconstructed’ R&B whose impact is muddied with just the right amount of commentary and absurdism.
To be sure, the drift is still clearly heard — songs fade in and out, moods blend unsettlingly, rhythms overlap — but contrary to a lot of sampled music, many of which depend on the structuring of loops to convey a defined trajectory, the insertion of the narrative clips here sounds like a violation. Not in the context of aesthetic flow, but in the context of more transient properties, like trying to anchor something that would otherwise float away. The difference is more easily heard/felt when comparing The Narcissist II to its original CD-R incarnation from late 2011, which showcased many of the songs/moments that appear on part two, but without the audio clips. In this context, these already poorly-lit songs sound even more sketch-like and stitched-together, adapting sloppily to the context in which they’re presented. It’s a tension that’s made even clearer when re-listening to some of the tracks in their detached YouTube origins or by comparing II’s opening drone to its recontextualized form on Blunt and Copeland’s upcoming Black Is Beautiful release on Hyperdub.
All of which is to say that the drift on The Narcissist II is perhaps about movement above all else, exemplified not only in the rhythms, but also in Blunt’s revisionist, cut-and-paste approach to music-making/-distribution (a slipstream methodology that deadens the impact of reviews like this one, which is decidedly after-the-fact and beside-the-point). Blunt has proven himself to be a master participant in this aesthetic float-game, and The Narcissist II is his demented billet-doux to the gratification that continues to elude." - MR P

Doggiewoggiez! Poochiewoochiez! - Dogstravaganza: video-klipovi za ranjavanje mozga

Remake filma Sveta planina Alejandra Jodorowskog pomoću isječaka iz tisuću filmova o psima. Ludilo višeg reda.

"Those krazed VHS-hunting pupz from Everything Is Terrible! (everyone’s favorite found footage chop shoppe) are back with their third inner-eye-opening feature, containing a feat never before attempted in either human or canine history. EIT! asks but two simple questions, “What if we make a movie composed ENTIRELY out of dog-related found footage?” and ‘'What if this magickal movie, made up of thousands of other dog movies, is also a remake of Alejandro Jodorowsky’s 1973 masterpiece The Holy Mountain?” Well, let’s stop asking dumb rhetorical questions because this never-ending spiral of World-Pup winning, sunglasses-wearing, murder-solving, skateboarding pooches is real! No Bonez about it, this is it! Are you dog enough to go fetch it? ARFFFFFF!"


"As with all the best cultural production on the internet, the work of VHS-era found footage curators/editors Everything Is Terrible can sound like an obtuse inside joke when overanalyzed by people like me, but it’s democratically self-explanatory when links are substituted for sentences. For about a decade, the group has spent their time panning the rivers of unloved VHS tapes that flow through second-hand shops and rummage sales for miniscule flakes of video gold that they post to their website as brief excerpts or short compressions of entire films.
Some of what they dig up — e.g. an instructional video demonstrating how to massage your cat — is as luminous as the over-hairsprayed 1980s and 90s hairdos of its stars, and while, like all hair and most ephemera, the individual clips are rarely substantial, embedded in every two-minute compression of a full-length piece of crap is the awareness that it’s simply one brief shart into the bottomless bucket of shit that is humanity’s media production. The terrible is what makes the group’s work hilarious, but it’s this sense of everything — of downright infiniteness — that makes it more than that. Whether by demonstrating through the daily postings to their website that America’s most inexhaustible and unexplored resource is probably bad videos, or by amassing the world’s largest private collection of Jerry McGuire videocassettes (1804 copies, or nearly half a ton, and counting), Everything Is Terrible excels in showing us the awful combined weight of our most flimsy cultural output.
Their most impressive transformation of the easily-discarded into the weightily indispensable, though, is not a collection, but a composition. A recreation of Alejandro Jodorowsky’s 1970s film The Holy Mountain comprised entirely of repurposed clips from 20th-century dog movies, TV specials, commercials, and instructional videos, Doggiewoggiez! Poochiewoochiez! is the group’s third and most conceptually ambitious film. The movie could easily coast on the ridiculous amount of work that went into realizing its weird conceit (with the added bonus that they’re present and dressed in dog costumes for all its screenings). Seemingly thousands of videos ranging from the obscure to the I-wish-it-were-obscure (Tim Allen’s public nude scene in The Shaggy Dog) have been shredded like the morning paper into seconds-long fragments, and then meticulously sequenced into a variation on Jodorowsky’s psychedelic-surrealist masterpiece that conveys pretty much every memorable image in the film, beginning with its opening ritual haircutting (now, of course, a grooming).
Figuring out which clips correspond to which part, if any, of The Holy Mountain might be the ultimate Where’s Waldo for film nerds — I mean cineastes — but it’s definitely not a gimmick. This assemblage of discards is as monumental as Brazilian artist Vik Muniz’s warehouse-sized portraits of garbage dump workers made out of trash, the Heidelberg Project’s reappropriation of abandoned Detroit houses into a site of artistic urban renewal, and that one mosaic portrait of Rick Santorum made up of gay porn. Except unlike those works, the pieces that make up Doggiewoggiez! Poochiewoochiez! aren’t leashed to the object they represent. During, for instance, the impossibly long succession of nearly every horrible dog pun uttered in a movie, you probably won’t care about Jodorwhosky anyway, but you will feel a mercurial progression of emotions, likely including glee, rage, and existential depression. These pets threaten to overtake their master as they break free of the Jodorowski framework, piss where they’re not supposed to, and — with the help of Everything Is Terrible’s greyhound-paced editing — dig under the fences dividing psychedelia, media criticism, conceptual art, and stoner comedy.
While the dogstravaganzas Marley & Me, Bolt, and Beverly Hills Chihuahua were all in Hollywood’s top-grossing films of 2008 (an exceptional vintage for the industry, obvs), nothing should feel timely about an adaptation of a 1970s cult film made out of 1990s videos about dogs. But Doggiewoggiez! Poochiewoochiez! couldn’t be more zeitgeisty in its digital decimation and recreation of the analog. The film’s total subjugation of seemingly all the dog-themed output of an entire medium (VHS) mirrors modernity’s total digitization of cultural artifacts into MP3s, Hulu streams, and Kindle downloads. But by training VHS dogs to emulate celluloid — the ancestral medium of the filmic — Doggiewoggiez! Poochiewoochies! diagrams analog-to-digital not as progress, but perhaps more accurately: as an endless feedback loop. That loop, as the film’s final scene (which one-ups the meta of The Holy Mountain’s fourth-wall breaking finale) illustrates, can be all-encompassing. Shit jokes and spirituality are the same meme.
In one of the most famous scenes in The Holy Mountain, an alchemist seals a man inside an airtight contraption without food or water and lights the man’s shit on fire. With no other choice, the man inhales the fumes and, eventually, shits again. The process is repeated ad nauseum, distilling his crap into its purest form: a big nugget of gold. The alchemist tells him: “You are excrement. You can change yourself into gold.” In Doggiewoggiez! Poochiewoochiez!, this process is transposed to a sequence of dogs eating their own shit. Really, it’s the entire film." - Benjamin Pearson

 
 Everything Is Terrible : VHS-video dignut na razinu  meta-infra-transcendentne trash-psihodelije.

2Everything2Terrible2: Tokyo Drift

"This is it. It's finally happening. Your entire life has been preparation for the mind-altering truth you now hold in your grubby hands. With 2Everything2Terrible2: Tokyo Drift, EIT will lead you on a vision quest through the VHS wilderness to the heart of the American dream. Prepare yourself for racist rabbits, singing babies, perfect killing machines, mid-90's beefcake, and much, much more, including the most adorable Antichrist the world has ever seen! The future is now!"

"Nobody wants to see Angela Lansbury masturbate in a tub. But the folks behind the blog Everything Is Terrible! have done well showing exactly that. Since December 2007, its members have posted the strangest, most mind-bending and disturbing footage imaginable (the site sharply describes itself as Tim And Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!—but real) on an almost-daily basis. This simple premise has yielded some unexpected results: The site wove together snippets into a semi-coherent story for a 2009 feature-length DVD, and its new sequel, 2Everything2Terrible2: Tokyo Drift. The site's latest excursion into DVD territory strings together even more brain-hurting clips on how to massage your cats, Internet prophecies from the 1990s, and so on." - A.V. Club