Untitled
liiiiive daaa liiiiiiife <3
thenewinquiry:

Pictures from Lisle de Vaux Matthewman’s Business (1905)  |  See more

thenewinquiry:

Pictures from Lisle de Vaux Matthewman’s Business (1905)  |  See more

thenewinquiry:

[In Beautiful Places to Hide a Body or Make Art (Romance)], Laurel Nakadate feeds lurid lines about herself to a croaking old man, who dutifully repeats them over footage of Hollywood alleys and apartment complexes. It feels like an effort to assert mastery over an obscurely traumatic event through compulsive repetition. Most of the echoed lines are leering commands — “Let me look at you,” “Show me your panties,” etc. — but the most insistent and threatening of them is a question: “You know you’re pretty, right?”
The statement comes up again in Good Morning Sunshine, a sequence of three films in which Nakadate stages pervert home invasions, issuing similar orders to a silent and demurely obedient teenage girl in her bedroom. She directs each girl to take off items of clothing while zooming in on their flesh, simulating a stereotypical male gaze. “You know you’re the prettiest girl, right?” But what she really seems to be asking is, What does it mean to agree to that when it no longer matters who is asking? Is that indiscriminateness how one comes to deserve attention? The girls offer no resistance, show no sign of wanting some other kind of recognition. They patiently abide their objectification as if it were utterly beside the point. Their bodies are present, but the attention has sent them elsewhere.
- Rob Horning, “You Know You’re the Prettiest Girl,” The New Inquiry Magazine: Beauty
Support TNI —&gt; Subscribe for $2

thenewinquiry:

[In Beautiful Places to Hide a Body or Make Art (Romance)], Laurel Nakadate feeds lurid lines about herself to a croaking old man, who dutifully repeats them over footage of Hollywood alleys and apartment complexes. It feels like an effort to assert mastery over an obscurely traumatic event through compulsive repetition. Most of the echoed lines are leering commands — “Let me look at you,” “Show me your panties,” etc. — but the most insistent and threatening of them is a question: “You know you’re pretty, right?”

The statement comes up again in Good Morning Sunshine, a sequence of three films in which Nakadate stages pervert home invasions, issuing similar orders to a silent and demurely obedient teenage girl in her bedroom. She directs each girl to take off items of clothing while zooming in on their flesh, simulating a stereotypical male gaze. “You know you’re the prettiest girl, right?” But what she really seems to be asking is, What does it mean to agree to that when it no longer matters who is asking? Is that indiscriminateness how one comes to deserve attention? The girls offer no resistance, show no sign of wanting some other kind of recognition. They patiently abide their objectification as if it were utterly beside the point. Their bodies are present, but the attention has sent them elsewhere.

- Rob Horning, “You Know You’re the Prettiest Girl,” The New Inquiry Magazine: Beauty

Support TNI —> Subscribe for $2

thenewinquiry:

By selecting this type of man as her muse, [Laurel] Nakadate posits an equivalence between herself and them that seems cruel because it is so unlikely, so obviously belied by the testimony before our eyes. The stark emotional reality of their lives seems self-evident, and Nakadate is pushing to uncover their secret, how they’ve managed to live with anonymity, in a truce with loneliness. Her beauty and vivacity seem to disqualify her from real feelings of loneliness and reconciliation with them, no matter how much time she spends in the netherworld of male mediocrity, or no matter how hard she feigns sadness for her photographs.
- Rob Horning, “You Know You’re the Prettiest Girl,” The New Inquiry Magazine: Beauty
Support TNI —&gt; Subscribe for $2

thenewinquiry:

By selecting this type of man as her muse, [Laurel] Nakadate posits an equivalence between herself and them that seems cruel because it is so unlikely, so obviously belied by the testimony before our eyes. The stark emotional reality of their lives seems self-evident, and Nakadate is pushing to uncover their secret, how they’ve managed to live with anonymity, in a truce with loneliness. Her beauty and vivacity seem to disqualify her from real feelings of loneliness and reconciliation with them, no matter how much time she spends in the netherworld of male mediocrity, or no matter how hard she feigns sadness for her photographs.

- Rob Horning, “You Know You’re the Prettiest Girl,” The New Inquiry Magazine: Beauty

Support TNI —> Subscribe for $2

thenewinquiry:

Solitude is a problem for writers generally, who spend so much time alone rehearsing a form of ideal communication. And men —as a practical matter — are often worse at being alone than women. But for male writers, however often an appearance of self-sufficiency can be stripped away to reveal a hidden structure of support, there is a writerly tradition of solitude that has existed at least since Romanticism: Rousseau’s “my habits are those of solitude and not of men,” or Shelley’s “Alastor; or, the Spirit of Solitude.” A man who chooses to be alone assumes the glamour of his forebears. A woman’s aloneness makes us suspicious: Even today it carries connotations of reluctance and abandonment, on the one hand, and selfishness and disobedience, on the other.
- “The Lonely Ones” by Emily Cooke

thenewinquiry:

Solitude is a problem for writers generally, who spend so much time alone rehearsing a form of ideal communication. And men —as a practical matter — are often worse at being alone than women. But for male writers, however often an appearance of self-sufficiency can be stripped away to reveal a hidden structure of support, there is a writerly tradition of solitude that has existed at least since Romanticism: Rousseau’s “my habits are those of solitude and not of men,” or Shelley’s “Alastor; or, the Spirit of Solitude.” A man who chooses to be alone assumes the glamour of his forebears. A woman’s aloneness makes us suspicious: Even today it carries connotations of reluctance and abandonment, on the one hand, and selfishness and disobedience, on the other.

- “The Lonely Ones” by Emily Cooke

thenewinquiry:

Bodies that deny the process of flow—by now it is as common to hear move along, there’s nothing to see here in colloquial form as it is to read it in a volume of French theory—are considered a blockage.
In Defense of Spontaneous Contestation and/or Beauty, Maryam Monalisa Gharavi

thenewinquiry:

Bodies that deny the process of flow—by now it is as common to hear move along, there’s nothing to see here in colloquial form as it is to read it in a volume of French theory—are considered a blockage.

In Defense of Spontaneous Contestation and/or Beauty, Maryam Monalisa Gharavi

thenewinquiry:

Gamification is awful for many reasons, not least in the way it seeks to transform us into atomized laboratory rats, reduce us to the sum total of our incentivized behaviors. But it also increases the pressure to make all game playing occur within spaces subject to capture; it seeks to supply the incentives to make games not about relaxation and escape and social connection but about data generation. The networked mediation of games — in other words, playing them on your phone or through Facebook — undermines the function of games in organizing face-to-face social time, guaranteeing presence in an unobtrusive way. Instead we typically take our turn in mediated games on our time and play multiple games at once, to cater to our convenience and our desire to be winning at least one of them.
Rob Horning, Dummy Discards a Heart

hmmmmn

thenewinquiry:

Gamification is awful for many reasons, not least in the way it seeks to transform us into atomized laboratory rats, reduce us to the sum total of our incentivized behaviors. But it also increases the pressure to make all game playing occur within spaces subject to capture; it seeks to supply the incentives to make games not about relaxation and escape and social connection but about data generation. The networked mediation of games — in other words, playing them on your phone or through Facebook — undermines the function of games in organizing face-to-face social time, guaranteeing presence in an unobtrusive way. Instead we typically take our turn in mediated games on our time and play multiple games at once, to cater to our convenience and our desire to be winning at least one of them.

Rob Horning, Dummy Discards a Heart

hmmmmn