Christoph Cox, 'Of Humans, Animals and Monsters' in Animals (Whitechapel Gallery Ventures Ltd, 2016) p. 122
Showing posts with label Animals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Animals. Show all posts
17 Jun 2020
Becoming animal
'Becoming animal' does not mean imitating an animal. Again, it is not about given animal forms but about animal capacities and powers. To become animal is to be drawn into a zone of action or passion that one can have in common with an animal. It is a matter of unlearning physical and emotional habits and learning to take on new ones such that one enlarges the scope of one's relationships and responses to the world.
13 Mar 2020
Urban space does not simply exist; the land first needs to be tamed
Urban space does not simply exist; the land first needs to be tamed. By the time the British arrived in Singapore in 1819, their approach to land and nature had already been determined. All it needed was the complementary will and the easy compliance of the population for the opening up of that territory. As soon as tigers 'appeared' to and for humans, their very existence needed to be wished away. The island was, quite simply, not big enough for two alpha predators.
Kevin Chua, 'The Tiger and the Theodolite: George Coleman's Dream of Extinction' in Animals (Whitechapel Gallery Ventures Ltd, 2016) p. 216
Animals and the development of modern cities
The process of domestication of some animals like dogs, simultaneous with the systematic marginalization or removal from city centres of certain other animals, both wild and livestock, which started in the Renaissance and intensified in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries across Europe, is for Alÿs an integral aspect of the emergence of the modern era and the development of modern cities.
Miwon Kwon, 'Dogs and the City' in Animals (Whitechapel Gallery Ventures Ltd, 2016) p. 203
Perhaps art begins with the animal
Perhaps art begins with the animal, at least with the animal that carves out a territory and constructs a house (both are correlative, or even one and the same, in what is called a habitat). The territory-house system transforms a number of organic functions – sexuality, procreation, aggression, feeding. But this transformation does not explain the appearance of the territory and the house; rather it is the other way around: the territory implies the emergence of pure sensory qualities, of sensibilia that cease to be merely functional and become expressive features, making possible a transformation of functions.
Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, 'Percept, Affect, Concept' in Animals (Whitechapel Gallery Ventures Limited, 2016) p. 112
12 Mar 2020
Becoming-animal exercises the ethical art of embracing the animal as gifted
In short, becoming-animal exercises the ethical art of embracing the animal as gifted. Through its indifferent hospitality man does not so much become an animal as disintegrate into the visual grounding of all actual beings.
Seung-Hoon Jeung, 'A Global Cinematic Zone of Animal and Technology' in Animals (Whitechapel Gallery Ventures Ltd, 2016) pp. 99-100
Man is the animal that must recognize itself as human to be human
In truth, Linnaeus's genius consists not so much in the resoluteness with which he places man among the primates as in the irony with which he does not record – as he does with other species – any specific identifying characteristic next to the generic name Homo, onlt the old philosophical adage: nosce te ipsum (know yourself). Even in the tenth edition,when the complete denomination becomes Homo sapiens, all evidence suggests that the new epithet doesnot represent a description, but that it is only a simplification of that adage, which, moreover, maintains its position next to the term Homo. It is worth reflecting on this taxonomic anomaly, which assigns not a given, but rather an imperative as a specific difference.
An analysis of the Introitus that opens the Systema leaves no doubts about the sense Linnaeus attributed to his maxim: man has no specific identity other than the ability to recognize himself. Yet to define the human not through any nota characteristica, but rather through his self-knowledge, means that man is the being which recognizes itself as such, that man is the animal that must recognize itself as human to be human.
[...]
Homo is a constitutively 'anthropomorphous' animal (that is, 'resembling man', according to the term that Linnaeus constantly uses until the tenth edition of the Systema), who must recognize himself in a non-man in order to be human.
In mediaeval iconography, the ape holds a mirror in which the man who sins must recognize himself as simia dei (ape of God). In Linnaeus'soptical machine, whoever refuses to recogninze himself in the ape, becomes one.
An analysis of the Introitus that opens the Systema leaves no doubts about the sense Linnaeus attributed to his maxim: man has no specific identity other than the ability to recognize himself. Yet to define the human not through any nota characteristica, but rather through his self-knowledge, means that man is the being which recognizes itself as such, that man is the animal that must recognize itself as human to be human.
[...]
Homo is a constitutively 'anthropomorphous' animal (that is, 'resembling man', according to the term that Linnaeus constantly uses until the tenth edition of the Systema), who must recognize himself in a non-man in order to be human.
In mediaeval iconography, the ape holds a mirror in which the man who sins must recognize himself as simia dei (ape of God). In Linnaeus'soptical machine, whoever refuses to recogninze himself in the ape, becomes one.
Giorgio Agamben, 'Taxonomies' in Animals (Whitechapel Gallery Ventures Ltd, 2016), pp. 82-83
9 Mar 2020
To be hospitable to animals, plants and the gods
To say that a human being can offer hospitality only
to another man, woman, or child is thus to make humanity
an animal species like any other. "Isn't what is
peculiar to humans instead their being able to be
hospitable to animals, plants . .. and the gods?" says
Derrida.
Anne Dufourmantelle, Of Hospitality (Stanford University Press, 2000) p. 140
24 Aug 2019
What's important
So it happens that I am and look.
Above me a white butterfly is fluttering through the air
on wings that are its alone,
and a shadow skims through my hands
that is none other than itself, no one else's but its own.
When I see such things, I'm no longer sure
that what's important
is more important than what's not.
Above me a white butterfly is fluttering through the air
on wings that are its alone,
and a shadow skims through my hands
that is none other than itself, no one else's but its own.
When I see such things, I'm no longer sure
that what's important
is more important than what's not.
Wislawa Szymborska, 'No Title Required' in View with a Grain of Sand (faber & faber, 1995) pp. 176-177
29 May 2012
'If one's wise,' he said at last, 'one doesn't ask whether it makes any sense. One does one's work and leaves the problem of evil to one's metabolism. That makes sense all right.'
'Because it's not oneself,' said Sebastian. 'Not human, but a part of the cosmic order. That's why animals have no metaphysical worries. Being identical with their physiology, they know there's a cosmic order. Whereas human beings identify themselves with money-making, say, or drink, or politics, or literature. None of which has anything to do with the cosmic order. So naturally they find that nothing makes sense.'
'Because it's not oneself,' said Sebastian. 'Not human, but a part of the cosmic order. That's why animals have no metaphysical worries. Being identical with their physiology, they know there's a cosmic order. Whereas human beings identify themselves with money-making, say, or drink, or politics, or literature. None of which has anything to do with the cosmic order. So naturally they find that nothing makes sense.'
Aldous Huxley, Time Must Have A Stop (Triad/Panther, 1982) pp. 298-299
But there is also the life of the spirit, and the life of the spirit is the analogue, on a higher turn of the spiral, of the animal's life. The progression is from animal eternity into time, into the strictly human world of memory and anticipation; and from time, if one chooses to go on, into the world of spiritual eternity, into the divine Ground. The life of the spirit is life exclusively in the present, never in the past or future; life here, now, not life looked forward to or recollected.
Aldous Huxley, Time Must Have A Stop (Triad/Panther, 1982) pp. 269-270
28 Nov 2011
For there to be Self-Consciousness, Desire must therefore be directed toward a non-natural object, toward something that goes beyond the given reality. Now, the only thing that goes beyond the given reality is Desire itself. For Desire taken as Desire – i.e., before its satisfaction – is but a revealed nothingness, an unreal emptiness. Desire, being the revelation of an emptiness, the presence of the absence of a reality, is something essentially different from the desired thing, something other than a thing, than a static and given real being that stays eternally identical to itself. Therefore, Desire directed toward another Desire, taken as Desire, will create, by the negating and assimilating action that satisfies it, an I essentially different from the animal "I".
Friedrich Hegel, "Autonomy and Dependence of Selfconsciousness: Mastery and Slavery" in Introduction to the Reading of Hegel (Cornell University Press, 1980) p. 5
1 Nov 2010
With their parallell lives, animals offer man a companionship which is different from any offered by human exchange. Different because it is a companionship offered to the loneliness of man as a species.
[...]
Animals came from over the horizon. They belonged there and here. Likewise they were mortal and immortal. An animal's blood flowed like human blood, but its species was undying and each lion was Lion, each ox was Ox. This - maybe the first existential dualism - was reflected in the treatment of animals. They were subjected and worshiped, bred and sacrificed.
Today the vestiges of this dualism remain among those who live intimately with, and depend upon, animals. A peasant becomes fond of his pig and is glad to salt away its pork. What is significant, and is so difficult for the urban stranger to understand, is that the two statements in that sentence are connected by an and and not by a but.
[...]
The marginalization of animals is today being followed by the marginalization and disposal of the only class who, throughout history, has remained familiar with animals and maintained the wisdom which accompanies that familiarity: the middle and small peasant. The basis of this wisdom is an acceptance of the dualism at the very origin of the relation between man and animal. The rejection of this dualism is probably an important factor in opening the way to modern totalitarianism.
[...]
The zoo cannot but disappoint. The public purpose of zoos is to offer visitors the opportunity of looking at animals. Yet nowhere in a zoo can a stranger encounter the look of an animal. At most, the animal's gaze flickers and passes on. They look sideways. They look blindly beyond. They scan mechanically. They have been immunized to encounter, because nothing can any more occupy a central place in their attention.
Therein lies the ultimate consequence of their marginalization. That look between animal and man, which may have played a crucial role in the development of human society, and with which, in any case, all men had always lived until less than a century ago, has been extinguished. Looking at each animal, the unaccompanied zoo visitor is alone. As for the crowds, they belong to a species which has at last been isolated.
This historic loss, to which zoos are a monument, is now irredeemable for the culture of capitalism.
[...]
Animals came from over the horizon. They belonged there and here. Likewise they were mortal and immortal. An animal's blood flowed like human blood, but its species was undying and each lion was Lion, each ox was Ox. This - maybe the first existential dualism - was reflected in the treatment of animals. They were subjected and worshiped, bred and sacrificed.
Today the vestiges of this dualism remain among those who live intimately with, and depend upon, animals. A peasant becomes fond of his pig and is glad to salt away its pork. What is significant, and is so difficult for the urban stranger to understand, is that the two statements in that sentence are connected by an and and not by a but.
[...]
The marginalization of animals is today being followed by the marginalization and disposal of the only class who, throughout history, has remained familiar with animals and maintained the wisdom which accompanies that familiarity: the middle and small peasant. The basis of this wisdom is an acceptance of the dualism at the very origin of the relation between man and animal. The rejection of this dualism is probably an important factor in opening the way to modern totalitarianism.
[...]
The zoo cannot but disappoint. The public purpose of zoos is to offer visitors the opportunity of looking at animals. Yet nowhere in a zoo can a stranger encounter the look of an animal. At most, the animal's gaze flickers and passes on. They look sideways. They look blindly beyond. They scan mechanically. They have been immunized to encounter, because nothing can any more occupy a central place in their attention.
Therein lies the ultimate consequence of their marginalization. That look between animal and man, which may have played a crucial role in the development of human society, and with which, in any case, all men had always lived until less than a century ago, has been extinguished. Looking at each animal, the unaccompanied zoo visitor is alone. As for the crowds, they belong to a species which has at last been isolated.
This historic loss, to which zoos are a monument, is now irredeemable for the culture of capitalism.
John Berger, 'Why Look at Animals?' in Mark Dion (Phaidon Press Limited, 1997) pp. 100, 102, 107
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