“I understand the unease of all such people. […] they prefer to deny that discourse is a complex, differentiated practice, governed by analyzable rules and transformations, rather than be deprived of that tender consoling certainty of being able to change, if not the world, if not life, at least their ‘meaning’, simply with a fresh word that can come only from themselves, and remain for ever close to the source. So many things have already eluded them in their language: they have no wish to see what they say go the same way; at all costs, they must preserve that tiny fragment of discourse - whether written or spoken - whose fragile, uncertain existence must perpetuate their lives. They cannot bear (and one cannot but sympathize) to hear someone saying: ‘Discourse is not life; its time is not your time; in it, you will not be reconciled to death; you may have killed God beneath the weight of all that you have said; but don’t imagine that, with all that you are saying, you will make a man that will live longer than he.”
— Michel Foucault, Archaeology of knowledge
— Michel Foucault, Archaeology of knowledge
“One outspoken native person said, “We want to show the world that we are an organized people. In the future, we don’t want to end up engraved in a museum’s exhibit. We want our music and dance, our songs to nature, to our homes, and to our motherland performed by our people themselves while they are alive. We don't want to be thought of as dead people to be exhibited in a museum, and described in a book, or recorded on film—that is not our tradition.
We are a community like any other community in the world. When we go back to our communities, we will tell them that at the museum, we have seen the work of our parents and grandparents who—maybe naively—handed over these sacred objects, which are our people's property, heritage, and patrimony.”
— Donald Lee Fixico, The American Indian Mind in a Linear World: American Indian Studies and Traditional Knowledge (2003)
We are a community like any other community in the world. When we go back to our communities, we will tell them that at the museum, we have seen the work of our parents and grandparents who—maybe naively—handed over these sacred objects, which are our people's property, heritage, and patrimony.”
— Donald Lee Fixico, The American Indian Mind in a Linear World: American Indian Studies and Traditional Knowledge (2003)
❤2
Ana Hatherly
Poeta chama poeta I / Poeta chama poeta II
1989
Poeta chama poeta I / Poeta chama poeta II
1989
🔥1
To stand, in the shadow
of the stigma in the air.
Standing-for-no-one-and-nothing.
Unrecognized,
for you
alone.
With all that has room in it,
even without
language.
– Paul Celan, To stand, trans. Pierre Joris
of the stigma in the air.
Standing-for-no-one-and-nothing.
Unrecognized,
for you
alone.
With all that has room in it,
even without
language.
– Paul Celan, To stand, trans. Pierre Joris
❤5
“How to sleep in a world without a lullaby, without a lulling refrain, without a capacity for forgetting, without unconsciousness itself, since Eros and Thanatos patrol everywhere shamelessly, sardonic watchmen armed with whips and cudgels? How to sleep in a world hypnotized by the vision of its own absence of vision of the world, as well as by the inanity of all visions that have dissolved but that always used to promise awakenings, triumphant mornings following splendid evenings in the blaze of which night has been forever discredited?
How to sleep, distraught soul, soul without soul, soul that floats lifeless over the field of battle or muck whose inanity an operating-room lamp garishly exposes?”
— Jean-Luc Nancy, The Fall of Sleep: The Soul That Never Sleeps, trans. by Charlotte Mandell
How to sleep, distraught soul, soul without soul, soul that floats lifeless over the field of battle or muck whose inanity an operating-room lamp garishly exposes?”
— Jean-Luc Nancy, The Fall of Sleep: The Soul That Never Sleeps, trans. by Charlotte Mandell
❤1